#FUCK slow ass america

[veltana]

As Captain America's new girlfriend it's important to be as nice and sweet as he is. You don't want to ruin his image with your bad behavior. Unfortunately for you, Steve is really really hot.

Nsfw below

After another gala with Steve dressed in an expertly tailored suit you're a mess. There is no other way to describe it.

All night, you were having all these crazy fantasies of Steve bending you over the closes surface to fuck you, all quick and dirty. But instead you held his hand and smiled, like a good girl, a good girlfriend.

You're so wired when you get home it's impossible to fall asleep, even snuggled against Steve's large chest.

His breathing is even and deep, fast asleep, and you're wide awake, so horny you think you might die.

And Captain America's girlfriend isn't someone who wakes him up just to have a quick fuck. A nice, sweet, good girl wouldn't beg him to fuck you hard from behind to feel his dick deep inside you. No, the two of you have nice, sweet, gentle sex in the missionary position.

But you need something, and before you know it your hand is inside your panties, stroking your clit and finding your entrace soaked, trying to keep your breathing even and not moving too much.

Every dirty, filthy fantasy you've ever had filles your mind. Steve fucking your throat or your ass. Forcing you to come over and over again. Painting you with his cum after he tied you to the headboard.

The orgasm comes quickly and the only tell is a low gentle whimper from you.

As your racing heart slows down the acute need is disappearing. Now, maybe you can get some sleep.

Suddenly, Steve grabs your hand and in the darkness you feel his mouth closing around the fingers, sucking them clean of your arousal.

"Fucking delicious."

His voice is raspy and filled with sleep but it's not what shocks you. Steve cursed!

Before you can wrap you mind around what's happening, Steve shoves you onto your stomach.

His large body weights you down. There is no mistaking what's pressed against your ass.

"You looked fucking divine in the dress tonight, made me wanna do all kinds of fucked up things to you."

"Yes, Steve, please!!!"

His deep chuckles vibrates against your back.

"Oh, I think we need to have a discussion about our sex life, sweetheart. But we'll do it in the morning. Now I'm gonna fuck you until your hoarse from screaming my name."

And he does.

[hiddenlife-manager]

Baaabeeee! I need one where jude went somewhere for some time and came back more buff and you struggling to take him while he's being cocky about it. 😭 ❤️ 🥺

Jude Bellingham x Fem Reader

cw... creampie, doggy and missoinary, size kink, taunting Jude, degrading, slight praise, overstimulation, ass slapping, and etc

notepad... I am on a roll, this is like preparing you all for me to go missing for even longer periods. Well enjoy it because I fucking love Jude! Also let us talk about Jude official goal! Request things please.

"I'm too big, baby?" He asked, smirking as his fingers pumped into your cunt, the couch soaking wet from your last two orgasms. "I think I've prepped you enough." You shook your head as he was eye level with your cunt. He licked at your clit holding onto your plush thighs while you tried to move away.

"Ah-no!" You were clearly sensitive; Jude's fingers were coated with your glistening slick. He placed his fingers in his mouth and chuckled at your weak looking body.

"Come on, baby, I know you want it." You sheepishly nodded, and he fixed himself on the couch, his cock at your entrance, your leg over his shoulder. "You can take it, I know."

Jude's muscles were so big now; he towered over your body, and you were tiny compared to him. But it seemed Jude needed you now; he was tired of prepping you and of the pleasure his hand could give him while overseas.

Without a warning, he slammed his cock into you, and your back arched as you grabbed onto the edge of the couch. Your cries were music to Jude's ears; he loved how you shivered from the size. He stayed still; it was as if he were fucking you for the first time.

He couldn't care anymore as he started to thrust into you harder than normal, leaving your eyes landing on your cheeks.

"How charming. Baby can't even take me." He pulled out and stuffed himself back into your cunt. "One month I was in America, and you couldn't take me. You're so tight." Jude grew a feeling to want to grab your ass and pulled it out, leaving you a moaning and breathless slut of his. He turned you around on the couch; your ass was out for him, and Jude chuckled.

"Such a perfect ass." Jude smacked your left cheek, causing you to scream into a decorative pillow. Jude lined himself up and shoved his cock into you, his hands reached your hips instead of thrusting; he made you bounce. Moans ripped through the living room, the stretch stinging each time.

You could only stutter out pleas for him to be gentle, and Jude took that and threw it out the window. When your bouncing slowed down, he grabbed your hair and pulled your head up from the pillow.

"You can handle me." He moaned into your ear and began to quicken his speed. You were shocked as you grabbed onto the edge of the couch, feeling so overwhelmed. Quickly, the pain felt like fullness, and the moans mixed with screams turned into moans of pleasure. Jude chuckled, letting go of your hair, and your face landed back on the pillow.

Jude's left hand pressed on your back as his right gripped your hips. He fucked you quickly, and he was proud of how you were taking his cock so well.

"Take me well, baby." He gloated and was right when he said that your pussy clamped down onto his veiny cock. Jude was so much bigger now; his muscles were stronger and bigger, and he was naturally tall. The thought of it made you close to cumming on his cock. A white ring on his cock began to show up, and Jude chuckled.

"You like it, baby-" Jude grunted as he slammed his cock into you. "I'm bigger now!" He slapped your right ass cheek which made you push your ass towards him, wanting more. Jude's cock twitched in you, Jude was close and needed release. "Haven't cummed in so long, so close." Jude muttered, fucking you harder and faster.

Your body felt the knot, and you knew you were just as close. With one last slap on your left cheek, your legs shivered, and you collapsed. Jude's grunts being loud as you felt his cum fill you up, Jude once more pulled out and shoved himself back into your cunt pushing his cum deep into you. The pain of his girth hurting again makes you scream into the pillow.

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Can y’all please let me know if the long chapters are harder to digest? Because I love writing them, but if they actively impair enjoyment of the story I can start to cut them in half. Chapter Title from DEVIL by Shinedown.

Word Count: 13k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Everyone has a lesson in actions and their subsequent consequences. Emphasis on mental health issues warning for the chapter: specifically suicidal ideation and PTSD.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 6 - Chapter 8

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Free will was cruel, and you had some choice words for whatever had given it to you. "Words,” meaning several unspeakable acts of violence, a wide variety of cuss words and vulgar phrases that would leave even Ben agape, and at least one loud, feral scream.

Free will had allowed you to attend a fancy party at Vought, a party that put you in a silk dress and winged eyeliner with glossy lips. Free will had let you do one, two, three shots and gotten you tipsy enough that when the elegant woman with strawberry hair had asked if anyone wanted to sing on stage, asked the crowd if there was at least one guest who wasn’t tone deaf and could do a passible rendition of Moon River, you’d raised your hand. Free will had made you not do a fourth shot, so that when you started to sing you didn’t stumble around the stage, missing notes and embarrassing yourself, but had put on a perfect show, singing and swaying in time to the music.

Later, you had learned that the woman with the strawberry hair had been killed later that night, and Free will had allowed you to feel sorry about it. Free will had you visit her grave in the dead of night in a thunderstorm, and let you sing Moon River one last time.

Free will had allowed you to cave when Butcher and the Boys had found you in a different graveyard, only a month later. Free will let you stick with them all the way to the barn. Free will was what had you coming up with very, very stupid plans.

Not this plan, though. You loved this plan. You loved this plan enough that you hadn’t waited even a half hour after thinking of it to call Butcher, or two minutes after Butcher had screened your call to turn around and call MM instead.

“What’s wrong?” MM had picked up after two rings, and you could almost see his worried frown with his words. “Did Soldier Boy-“

“Ben’s in the living room yelling at a documentary about World War II.” You’d dismissed. “He likes to point out all the alleged inaccuracies. I have a plan, I need everyone here by tonight.”

“Uh,” MM said your name apprehensively. “I don’t think that’ll really work.”

“Look, I know everyone’s probably still freaked out about last night, but this is really important-“

“No, that’s not it. We’re fine. Butcher’s still being a fucking ass about it, but everyone else- Hey!” MM had yelled away from the receiver as something banged in the background, accompanied by muffled shouts.

“Uh, MM?” You’d frowned. “Where are you?”

“Ohio.”

“Ohi- why are you in fucking Ohio?”

“Soldier Boy’s shield is here. Turns out it’s been so motherfucking difficult to get because Vought has their hands on it, and they’ve been keeping it in a warehouse in Akron.”

“I thought it had been flown from Jacksonville, with the suit?”

“Nope. Akron. We didn’t know until a few days ago, even Mallory thought it was just waiting in cargo at JFK.”

You’d glanced down the hall to make sure Ben hadn’t heard that his shield was in Ohio, a state he’d once called “America’s shitstained taint” while watching a football game. You heard him shout “fucking commies didn’t do goddamn shit about the Nazi’s, fuck off!” And decided you were in the clear.

“When do you think you’ll be done?” You’d asked, keeping one ear open in case Ben decided to stop fighting with Ken Burns’ voice and join you in the kitchen.

“If Butcher keeps it together and nobody sees Annie and tips off Vought? Tomorrow night.” MM had answered tensely.

“Ok, come right here when you get back. Like I said, I've got a plan, but it’s time sensitive.” You gone to hang up, but paused with your finger over the button. “Don’t die.” You’d added, and heard MM’s grunted acknowledgment just before the call dropped.

Somehow they’d managed to meet MM’s prediction, and all returned in one piece. The team had stood awkwardly in the kitchen—almost everyone avoiding full eye contact with you despite MM’s claim of everything being fine—as you and Ben had sat at the counter, Ben making a mediocre effort to fake some sort of hospitality per your request.

“Thanks to Ashley,” you’d started. “We know Sage told Homelander that I’m in New York and Ben’s awake.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry about that.” Annie had said your name apologetically. “We should’ve been more careful-“

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You’d cut her off, giving Ben’s shin a swift kick behind the counter before he could’ve said anything, his disbelieving scorn at your statement running through where your arms were brushing. “And we can use this.”

“Use what?” Hughie had frowned, and you’d continued.

“They haven’t told anyone else about it. We weren’t even sure they knew until Ashley told us. I’m not anticipating them to start alerting the media about me anytime soon, but they should’ve announced that America’s number one traitor is back from the dead and out to attack the innocent.”

“Fucking rude.” Ben grumbled, and a surprisingly bruised feeling ran through you. “All I do is help you, Sunshine, and that’s how you fucking thank me?”

You gave him a quick, half-apologetic, half-annoyed look. I’m being sardonic for arguments sake, and you know it. He’d just rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the mozzarella sticks you’d heated up before the Boys arrived.

“But they haven’t done that,” you’d continued, giving Ben one last dirty look. “Which means-“

“They’re saving it for something.” Annie had finished your sentence with a thoughtful frown.

“Exactly. Sage has some sort of plan, some dramatic and complicated way to fear monger people, turn everyone against Starlight by saying you released Soldier Boy, and have been risking public safety by letting him run rampant for your own anti-American reasons.”

“You want to get ahead of it.” MM had said, eyes narrowed.

You’d nodded, and shared your plan. Now, two days later, you were squished in the back of the van between Hughie—a well placed towel separating any physical contact—and Ben—who despite many protests was eating your burger—watching Firecracker and The Deep sing in a way that made you want to permanently remove your ears.

You visibly recoil as The Deep looks into the camera, and Ben looks up from eating to watch the video as it plays on Hughie’s laptop.

“Fish-boy sounds like a fucking constipated cowboy,” Ben mutters through a mouthful of food.

You hum in agreement. “You even sounded better on your stupid Rapture video.”

Ben scowls, taking another large bite that muffles his words. “I was fucking fantastic in that.”

“You were certainly, technically, singing.” You look up at him with a grin. “With all the passion of a dying squid giving one last, mighty squirt.”

“I don’t ’squirt’, Sunshine.” Ben grumbles, and you can see the moment every filthy thing he could say pops into his head. He takes a rough swallow, mouth opening to say something that will undoubtedly make Hughie regret volunteering to stay in the van, and you cut him off.

“Before you say anything, keep in mind that is still my burger, meaning I have every right to take it back and shove it right up your ass.”

Ben glowers at you, taking another aggressively large bite. “Bitch.” He grunts, and a piece of lettuce falls fully out of his mouth. Though you can feel his dirty look in your direction, you can also feel a spark of amusement run from where your knees are touching into your chest.

“Cunt.” You pick the lettuce off his lap and throw it into his face. “You eat like a squid too.”

“The only thing that me and squids have in common is our giant-“

“Okay!” Hughie shouts, pausing the video. “Soldier Boy, can you please not say something sexual for like, fuck, ten minutes?”

Ben doesn’t respond, invested completely in the burger, and you elbow him in the ribs.

He gives a loud cough, little bits of meat spurting out of his mouth. “What the fuck?!” When you incline your head to Hughie, Ben rolls his eyes and offers Hughie a grunted, “Fuckin hell- fine, you pussy.”

“Oh, ok.” Hughie blinks at Ben nervously before fumbling to unpause the video.

As the laptop catches up with the live feed, jumping to Firecracker bouncing over-excitedly around the now empty stage, Ben leans over you to get a good look at the screen.

“That’s her?”

“Yep.” You give the screen a glare. “Crazy brown-nosing bitch.”

Hughie lets out a noise of agreement, and Ben snorts. After another minute, in which Firecracker manages to say a record twenty-two objectively wrong things in a row, Ben grunts in annoyance.

“When I was at Vought, we had real goddamn talent, not whatever the fuck this is.”

“I know, in the 80s they managed to book a Pretty Boy squid who could kind of sing.”

Lettuce hits you in the face, and you let out a sputtering string of profanities.

“I can more than kind of sing, Sunshine. I have the voice of a goddamn angel. And that song didn’t make any fucking sense, I fucking blew it out of the fucking water- what the fucks so funny?”

“Nothing!” You try and smother the giggles that had built in you as he’d devolved into rambling ire. “You’re way angrier about this than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m not fucking angry-“

“I can feel it, Ben.” You press your leg further against his in reminder. “And even if I couldn’t, you just said ‘fuck’ so many times.”

“I’m not a damn pussy, I’ll swear as much as I fucking please-“ Ben falters slightly as the word slips out once more, and you grin at him.

“When you’re angry, every other word out of your mouth is ‘fuck’. It’s actually really funny.“

“I’m glad it’s amusing for you.” He’s glaring at you, but you can feel the rapid ebbing of his anger through your body.

“It is.” You shrug, and attempt an olive branch. “So was the Rapture video. I used to watch it all the time.”

“Really?” At your words, he’s suddenly giving a toothy, egotistical grin. “What, did you have a crush on me?”

“No,” You mirror his grin, even as you feel your cheeks heat and hear your sister’s teasing in your ear. “It was just really funny.”

He scoffs. “Like you could’ve done it any damn better.”

“Oh, I know I couldn’t have. I sing like a horse who chain smokes.” The lie slips through your teeth with practiced ease. “But nobody would be paying me whatever digusting amout they payed you.”

"Joke's on you, Sunshine. I bought a house with that money."

"Hm," you give him a toothy smile. "I think that makes the joke on Vought."

“I liked your dancing,” Hughie offers weakly. “It was… interesting.”

“See, Cocksucker gets it.” Ben says smugly, giving you a nudge as his attention refocuses on the video.

“That’s, that’s not my name…” Hughie sighs, and you offer him an apologetic, close-lipped smile.

Still leaning over you, Ben takes another bite of the burger as he watches Firecracker. “She’s got good tits,” he observes, and you tilt your head to look at him incredulously. “What?! She does!”

“You didn’t even last,” you look at the clock on Hughie’s laptop. “Five minutes.”

“That’s bullshit, I always last more than five minutes- Hey!”

You manage to fit the entire remaining burger into your mouth a once, chewing frantically before he can try and take it back from you. You give him a smug look. I warned you, Pretty Boy.

He narrows his eyes at you. I’ll make you fucking regret that, Sunshine.

You swallow, his promise of regret already catching up to you from the large bite as the food aches down your throat, and push Ben until he’s fully in his seat. “Her tits better not be nice enough that you decide to blow the mission.”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine, yours are better.” He ignores your venomous look. “And she’s with Homelander. Even the best fucking tits in the world couldn’t make up for choosing that pussy.” His eyes narrow at the screen. “I should just fucking go now, it’s been the same stupid shit for a damn hour.”

“No!” Hughie’s arm shoots out to hold him in his seat, before thinking better and pulling back just as fast. “No, they’re almost ready, please, can we just wait until they’re ready?”

Ben shoots you a look of questioning annoyance. I could just fucking go. Cocksucker couldn’t stop me, and we could all be fucking done and go home early.

No. We’re sticking to the plan. You glare back.

He rolls his eyes. Fucking stupid plan if it takes ten goddamn hours to set up.

You stick your tongue out at him, and turn back to Hughie. “Have they sent any updates? At least gotten the stage passes?”

“They aren’t supposed to check in for another three minutes.” Hughie shakes his head. “And MM’s still working on the stage passes. They’re $350 for some fucking reason.”

“I don’t need a stage pass.” Ben grumbles. “I could just walk in if you would give me the suit, none of those pussies would stop me.”

“The whole point is that you don’t have the suit. But…” You trail off, frowning to yourself. “Hughie, Ben might be right about the stage pass.”

Ben makes a satisfied “Ha!” as Hughie gives you a wide-eyed stare.

“But they can’t know he’s working with-“

“Butcher and Starlight, yeah, I know, it's my plan. But the whole idea is that he’s rogue. Soldier Boy, back from the dead once more, loose on the streets of Manhattan with no adult supervision.” You sweep your hand in a mock headline gesture, and pretend you can’t feel Ben’s indignance. “A real rogue hundred year old terrorist would not have a credit score that lets him buy Vought’s super-diamond-truther backstage pass.”

“So I can have my fucking suit-“

“No,” you snap, and Ben scowls. “That defeats the point even more than the stage pass. Your suit is known government property. It was being kept in a high-security warehouse in Florida. It would be really fucking suspicious if you were wearing it.”

“They were keeping my suit in Florida?!” Ben’s face coils in disgust. “Was my fucking shield in Florida too?! Fuck, is it still fucking there?! In goddamn, sweat-stained-“

“No, apparently Vought was keeping your shield in Ohio.”

“Fucking Ohio?!”

“This doesn’t really seem like it’s about the mission anymore,” Hughie says nervously.

“It’s not, it’s about you fucking dumbass cum guzzlers keeping my shit in goddamn Florida and Ohio- Fuck!”

You give Ben a warning glare, fingers still smoking, as he rubs his arm. “They survived it, and maybe if you put on your big boy pants you’ll manage to as well. Now-“ You turn to Hughie. “You should tell MM that we don’t need the stage pass before he spends a disgusting amount of money on it.”

As Hughie takes out his phone, closing his laptop and standing to cross the van for some semblance of privacy, Ben nudges you with a grunt of your name.

“I don’t like this.” He’s frowning at nothing in particular, and you can feel tight, solid concern through your body. “It’s too fucking public.”

You wrinkle your brow at him, eyes narrowing. “Since when do you give a shit how ‘public’ a mission is?”

“Since it’s a fucking liability. Too fucking public means too many fucking people that even I won’t be able to control.”

“That’s the point-“

“I fucking know ‘that’s the point’, Sunshine, you’ve made that real fucking clear.” Ben grunts, giving you an odd look as his tight feeling grows in your chest. “Doesn’t mean I have to like this fucking dumb plan.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I love it. It’s going to work, you’ll admit I’m a goddamn genius, and maybe Firecracker will start crying like a baby.”

Ben snorts, and a jab of his amusement hits you. But before he can make any snide comments, Hughie hangs up his call with MM and returns to where you and Ben are pressed against the wall of the van.

“Well, MM’s really not happy about it, but he agrees it’s smarter not to do the pass.” Hughie sighs. “And he says that Butcher’s on his way to get us. He should be here in five.”

You nod, turning to Ben with narrow eyes. “Repeat the plan to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “What, don’t you trust me, Sunshine?”

“To retain vital information about my plan that you’ve called ‘fucking stupid’ numerous times? Absolutely not.”

“It is fucking stupid.” He grunts.

You sigh. “Please, Ben. Humor me and pretend you give a shit for one minute.”

Ben’s leg tenses against yours, and something falters along your ribs. He scowls as he speaks in terse, clipped words.

“Get on the stage, make sure the cameras see me, neutralize that Firecracker broad, and beat her up, but don’t kill her for some fucking reason.” The last part is muttered resentfully, and you chose to pretend you don’t hear it.

“And then?” You prompt.

“Break the cameras, find you, and get back here.” He grumbles.

You nod in approval. “You have to make sure you break the cameras, Ben. Frenchie’s going to make sure that all the phones get fried, but you need to break the cameras. There can’t be any evidence you’re not working alone.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I fucking got it. Kill the bitch, break the cameras.”

“Do not kill Firecracker!” Hughie says frantically, giving you a desperate look and saying your name in a pleading tone. “Please don’t let him kill her.”

You elbow Ben in the gut as you respond. “He knows, he’s just being a fucking dick about it.”

“Fuck off, Sunshine,” he mutters. “And you should let me kill her. She’s not fucking innocent, she’s a goddamn lying bitch.”

“Nope. No killing her.” You say firmly, crossing your arms. “You only get to beat her up because we need to sell the whole ‘out for revenge’ narrative. That’s-“

“The point.” Ben finishes your sentence mockingly. “I fucking got it, Sunshine.”

You kick him again. “So prove it, Pretty Boy. No killing Firecracker.”

“What if she tries to attack me? I should be allowed to fucking defend myself-“

You snort. “Her power is being a dogshit human sparkler. Her attacking you would feel like this.” You poke Ben’s arm, and he frowns.

“I thought she was a fucking fire supe. Like you.”

“I mean, yeah. She technically is. But not all fire supes can have massive fucking horse cocks like mine.”

Hughie lets out a chocking sputter, and Ben rumbles a loud laugh that makes your stomach feel soft and warm. You’re saved from dwelling on how the feeling lingers, starting to spread through your body in time with an easy delighted, sensation that’s not yours, by the opening of the van door.

“Am I bloody interrupting something?” Butcher’s dry voice is raised over Ben’s laughter, an angry and wired frown across his face. “Or can we all stop jerking each other off and do our fuckin jobs?”

“Pull the damn stick out of your ass, Butcher.” Ben rolls his eyes. “We’re not the pussies who took a year to do recon on three fucking blocks.”

"Well, someone has to make sure you don’t blow your load all over a bunch of innocent civilians again.” Butcher sneers, and Ben’s fists curl at his sides.

“I have it under control, you fucking-“

“Butcher,” you interject, feeling something hot and bloody in Ben’s chest start to grow. “We’re ready?”

Not taking his eyes off of Ben, Butcher grunts. “We’ve been ready, Love. We’re just waiting on you bloody cunts.”

“Then let’s go.” You start to stand but have barely moved from your seat when Ben’s hands are on you, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ben glares at you, and you feel that weird, tight concern along your skin again.

“On the mission, dumbass.” You snap, trying to pry his grip off of your thigh.

“No.” His hand doesn’t move, and the tight feeling grows. “Too fucking risky.”

“It’s my plan, Ben. Did you seriously think I was going to stay in the fucking van?”

He ignores you, turning to where Hughie and Butcher are watching the exchange, Hughie wide-eyed and Butcher scowling impatiently. “Tell her she’s fucking staying here with Cocksucker.”

“No can do, Mate. She goes where you go.” Butcher gives Ben a mocking grin, and another weird feeling writhes in your—Ben’s—gut.

“We’re right in front of fucking Vought, there’s going to be a shit ton of cameras-Fucking hell!” Ben’s hand jerks off of you, smoking and red.

“I’m a grown ass woman, Ben.” You hiss. “I know what I’m walking into, and I know what the risks are. And seeing as you somehow forgot, I’m in charge of you. I go where you go, and that’s not up for fucking debate. I can, I will handle my goddamn self.”

“Trust me, Sunshine, I know you can.” He says, facing his still-raw palm to you. “Doesn’t mean you have to fucking risk yourself for this bullshit-“

“It’s my fucking job!” You burst out. “The whole ‘find me’ part of the plan requires me to be in the fucking crowd, not sitting on my ass with Hughie!”

“What if fucking Homelander’s there? Then what?”

A painful ardor kicks up in your lungs. “He won’t be.”

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben’s voice is dripping with unconvinced cynicism.

“Why are you being so weird about this? It’s not like-“

Butcher gives an overdramatic cough over your words. “Oi, Bonnie and Clyde. I’d let you two fuck it out, but we’re on a bloody tight schedule. She’s coming, that’s that. Now get off your arses and let’s fucking move.”

“Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not done with our fucking conversation.”

“Yes, we are.” You stand up, walking across the van. “Hughie, wait a bit until we’re out of the alley, then send Ben out. Ben,” you raise your hand, dropping fingers one by one as you run through the plan. “Get on stage, blast Firecracker, give her a few light punches, break the cameras, and find me. No casualties.”

“Maybe sprout some anti-patriot shit as well, Gov.” Butcher adds. “Really bloody sell it.”

You shake your head, giving Butcher an exasperated look. “No, we don’t know what Firecracker might say. What Homelander and Sage have told her. In, violent, and out. That’s it.”

You look back at Ben with a steel gaze, to find a glower of his face you’ve never seen before. His whole body is rigid, jaw clenched, mouth in a dropped scowl as his eyes burn through you. He’s looking at you in a way you aren’t able to read, but you feel like he wants you to. Everything about his face screams that you should be able to understand it, but you can’t.

“You’re, you're leaving me here with him?” Hughie’s voice is unsteady, and when you remove your eyes from Ben you find his face has grown pale.

“It’s only a few bleedin’ seconds, Lass. He don’t bite, don’t he?” Butcher gives Ben a cocky smirk.

“Fucking watch yourself, Butcher, I’ll crack your weak fucking skull and not break a sweat.” Ben snarls, eyes still on you.

Butcher scoffs, a taunting jeer in his voice. "No, you won’t. You don’t want to upset Sunshine.”

Ben’s eyes rip from you as he stands up at a freighting speed, body tense and fists clenched as he reaches his full height. For a second, you think you might have to interfere and prevent Butcher’s life from finding a brutal and inconvenient end in the alleyway, but Ben just gives him a violent, twisted growl.

“Count your fucking blessings that I have a job to do, you pussy. And sleep with one fucking eye open, because once this is over, I’m going to drown you in your own blood.”

Butcher gives him a mocking wink and turns to walk down the alley, leaving you scramble after him.

Before you’re fully out of the van, you turn and give Ben one last look. “No casualties.” You say, and almost against your will, your face draws into a look of and stay safe.

You don’t have time to read his face before you jog after Butcher, but the last thing you see of Ben is his arms still braced at his side, his eyes on yours with an almost feral look.

You catch up to Butcher right at the end of the ally, running face-first into his arm when he holds it out, halted before stepping onto the main street.

“Fucking ow, Butcher.” You rub your face where you’d collided, and over your fingers you barely have time to register the Noir baseball cap and jacket flying at your face, managing to catch them against your chest at the last second.

“Put them on.” Butcher says, and looking over the merchandise you see him leaning out the ally, watching the flowing crowds of pedestrians. People clad in red and blue Firecracker costumes and costume adjacect outfits, a few less in dark greens and Deep trademarked Love the Ocean like the Earth and Fish and Man are One shirts, and exactly one, a bouncing little girl with a tutu and big eyes, wearing a Homelander cape.

You look back down at the cap and jacket—which is a few sizes too big—and realize both were made by Uought International, and that Noir has been spelled as Noire. Looking up, you see that Butcher has pulled a Quen Maeve sweatshirt over his shirt, and is wearing green-tinted sunglasses that have little, blue Soldier Boy brand symbols along the frame.

“You shouldn’t wear those,” you point to your nose, mirroring where the sunglasses sit on Butcher’s face.

“Why, Love, you want them so you can feel close to Ben?” He mocks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, dumbass. Right now Soldier Boy is a dead American traitor who’s going to rise from the dead and commit an act of terrorism in like, seven minutes. It’s not smart to wear anything associated with him to ‘blend in’, especially if you’re pairing it with an off brand shirt of the woman who sacrificed herself to save the world from him.”

“You know just as bloody as well as me that Maeve is picking dandelions in California.”

“Yeah, and Soldier Boy isn’t dead, he’s in the van, probably trying to blackmail Hughie into buying him drugs. The internet is a liar sometimes.”

Butcher pulls off the sunglasses with a scowl and a dirty look in your direction before dropping them on your Noire jacket. “Put on your clothes so we can get a fucking move on. We wanna get outta here before Soldier Boy sees you and carries you back to the bloody van.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and pretend you don’t hear the questioning contempt of his voice, shoving the sunglasses into your back pocket before you pull on the jacket. You give Butcher a nod and step out into the current of the street.

The walk to Firecracker’s stage is silent, both you and Butcher angling your heads down from the crowd, down from the blue, cloudless sky and anyone who may be in it. The sun beats down a warmth that is only offset by the biting of the wind, and Firecracker’s voice, projected by speakers to carry over the horns and shouts of the city, starts to claw into your head.

“Patriots, are you ready to know the truth about Starlight and how she’s been kidnapping and trafficking your innocent babies?!” Her voice has the same southern drawl you’ve heard on TV, her bubbly tone in stark contrast to her words. “We’re lucky we have Homelander lookin out for us, keepin us safe, otherwise Starlight might try to take us too!”

You drop your head further, some fearful part of your brain telling you that Homelander might hear his name from the Tower and decide to make an appearance.

Fucking risky, Ben’s voice says in your head, and suddenly you can see him in your head, that strange, angered and piercing face watching you. What if fucking Homelander’s there, Sunshine? Then what? You’ll freeze up, and I won’t be there to help.

I’ll manage, you snap back at his voice, and can almost hear his scoff.

You’ll start crying and wish I was there. You wish I was there right now. You hate that you’re walking with Butcher, who’s probably going to try and kill you instead of me.

Butcher won’t kill me. He can’t.

Never stopped him from trying before. I wouldn’t let him, Sunshine.

I’m stronger than Butcher. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than fucking Homelander. I don’t need your help.

But you fucking want it.

“No, I don’t!” You hiss, and only realize you’ve spoken aloud when the words come out strained, caught on a lump that has formed in our throat.

You hear Butcher snort from your side. “Who the bloody hell are you talking to?”

“No one,” you mumble, feeling your face heat as you feel his disbelieving look.

“If you’re going to lose your damn mind and go all mental, you can wait until all this is done? Would be real bloody inconvenient to have to kill you ahead of schedule.”

“Not funny.” You mutter, and are saved from Butcher’s response by arriving at the crowd, stopping next to where MM watches the show in an A-Trane shirt.

“He behind you?” MM says by way of greeting, voice barely raised over the children’s choir rendition of God Bless the USA, complete with trumpet and string accompaniment.

“Should be,” Butcher looks over the heads of the audience, scanning for something that he doesn’t seem to find. “Frenchie gonna be ready when Soldier Boy gets here?”

“Kimiko got them up on a roof across the street, and Annie will get him the electricity he needs when it happens.”

You glance behind you, hoping that Hughie can manage to keep Ben in the van a few minutes more. “We should move,” you say, turning back to MM. “We don’t want to be anywhere near the path to the stage.”

MM nods and begins to lead you and Butcher deeper into the crowd, weaving through the frenzied cheers and whoops as the choir walks off the stage. You stop at the edge of the crowd, off to side enough to avoid any crossfire, but with Firecracker still in a clear line of sight.

She’s staring down the camera, her toothy and smug smile projected on a Jumbotron as she speaks. “I don’t know about y’all, but I think Starlight should come down here and tell us why! Why she won’t show us any proof of her claims that Homelander is a murderer! When, need I remind y’all, Homelander was found innocent! Has Starlight been found innocent?” You watch her cup her ear, listening for the crowds shouted responses.

“Jesus Christ, she has to know this is bullshit, right?” You mutter to yourself, and MM chuckles beside you.

“As far as I can tell, she really believes all the bullshit she’s saying.” He says with a shake of his head. “She got this job cause her head was up Homelander’s ass for free, she ain’t gonna pull it out now that Vought’s paying.”

You hum, looking up at the sky nervously. “MM, has Hughie texted that Ben-“

You’re cut off as screams sound from down the street, and your head shoots to where you had just stood, watching as the crowd beings to franticly part for something you can’t yet see. Butcher and MM are stiff beside you, Butcher’s gun already in his hand as MM’s lingers at his hip. Firecracker’s voice has faltered through the speakers, her eyes wide and face slack on the Jumbotron. The feeling in you, the ardor against your spine and clawing at your skin, begins, and you try not to watch the sky. The sun is bright and there are no city lights, the only thing you can hear is the terrified people, but Homelander’s not here, so you’ll be fine.

The feeling is in your blood and gut, but you’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

Are you sure about that? Ben’s voice says in your head.

Shut up. You tell it, just as Firecracker lets out a shrill sound that echos down the streets.

You look up and find Ben has gotten to the foot of the stage, only his side profile visible to you. Firecracker has a shaking finger pointing at him, her mouth agape as she watches him walk closer, closer, closer. You hadn’t been sure what to expect once it began. For Firecracker to scream, beg, cry, fight, run, or collapse once it became that her life was gone from her hands. Of all the scenarios you’d traced, all the outcomes with more blood, less blood, more scream or quick silence, you hadn’t thought she start to laugh. Doubled over, cackling glee, tears in her eyes visible on the Jumbotron.

“Well, look here, folks! No need to be afraid, it’s going to be just fine! Soldier Boy here’s a guest, and he’s going to tell us all about how Starlight tricked him and forced him to fake his death!”

You watch Ben freeze on stage, and the Jumbotron begins to broadcast his tight, angered face to the steadily regrouping audience.

“Fuck,” MM breathes out. “They’re going to flip him.”

Butcher says your name roughly. “You need to get there, get him in bloody line. We can’t have him running off with Vought.”

You need to move. Every part of you is screaming that you need to go, go, get there and remind Ben that you’re watching and keeping him in check. But you can’t, frozen as you watch his movements on the Jumbotron, trying to keep control when your blood has run cold, and every breath you take is caught against that lump in your throat. You can’t move, and all you can do is watch him on stage, eyes scanning the crowd as he watches them look at him in awe.

Then your falling forward, barely managing to catch your footing before your knees hit the pavement, turning to see MM on the phone speaking in a commanding, measured tone, and Butcher reaching forward to push you once more. You take another, smoother step back before he can, but you don’t wait for him to bark an order for you to go. You turn back to the crowd with the bass of the speakers barely drowning feeling, trying to weave without touching anyone as it grows and grows.

You’re at the base of the stage now, and before you can start to figure out a subtle way to alert him, his eyes lock with yours.

What the fuck is happening. His gaze asks at it runs through you, his body turned as though he may start to move in your direction, and Firecracker's voice rings the air.

“Lovely, you brought her too!” Both you and Ben turn to where she stands, smiling and looking at you. “Our very special guest, The Anomaly!”

Your blood isn’t cold. It’s burning, everything is burning inside of you, scraping to get out. But there are people moving around you now, people everywhere, and someone is nudging you forwards to the stage until a smiling face is pulling you up and moving you right next to Ben. It’s so bright, and you’re burning, and when you turn your head out to the crowd, you see yourself. Up on the Jumbotron. And there are cameras. Cameras everywhere. Cameras that are following your movements as Firecracker speaks.

“I know ya’ll don’t recognize her, she hasn’t been around for as long as this patriot!” Your eyes tear from the screen just in time to see Firecracker playfully slap Ben’s arm, to watch his whole body go rigid as she did. “But she’s a real good friend, and she and Homelander go way back!”

You’re cold again. Cold and angry and sharp. Everything is sharp again, the faces of the audience are clear, and Firecracker’s words are no longer miles away. No, she’s right in front of you with a wide smile of teeth, and you can hear drums.

Drums.

You look down, and your foot is bumped against Ben’s. His eyes aren’t watching you anymore, fixed on Firecracker, but everything sharp in him, in you, is pointed at her.

“If fact,” Firecracker has turned back to the crowd, hands placed over her heart with a simpering face. “She and Homelander? Well they were childhood sweethearts! Supes, raised together, only having each other. And when Homelander went off to become our great hero, she stepped away from the spotlight.” Firecracker takes a large step back, turning back to you. “She didn’t want the fame. She just wanted him!”

A chorus of sickly sweet awwws ripples through the crowd, and the feeling is behind your eyes.

“Homelander was, is, the love of her life. Which is why, when Starlight and her team of devil-worshippers came to kill her, The Anomaly fought with all she had to stop them.”

It’s under your nails.

“She wasn’t strong enough, though, and they dragged her away from where Homelander had been keeping her safe to let her bleed out, far away from the man she loved.”

It’s on your teeth.

“Love that kept her alive, love that made her find another who had been wronged, another who would do anything for Homelander-“

Firecracker makes a gesturing sweep to Ben, and the world begins to blur.

“Soldier Boy! And now they’re here, to reunite with their lover, their son, and have the happy endings they deserve!”

The feeling is everywhere. Ben is pressed closely against you, and the drums are in your ribs. Firecracker is still smiling and her teeth are so white. The crowd is cheering and whooping and you’re going to crack-

Something smashes off the stage, and Firecracker’s smile drops. You make yourself follow her gaze, the movement like moving through mud, and see smashed cameras at MM’s feet. Gunshots ring out, and something above you shatters as Butcher appears, gun raised.

Firecracker’s face has contorted, cheery persona vaporized and she starts to shout in a furious wail.

“No! My cameras! My show- Do you have any idea how hard that speech was to memorize?! I worked so hard, and you ruined it you fucking-“

She flys across the stage, Ben taking large, violent strides to where she lands with a crack. You can see her fear when she looks up to where he stops above her, the light growing in his chest.

“Help!” She screams, looking around at the stage audience and tech workers. “He’s- he’s fucking crazy, he’s going to kill me! Someone- someone fucking stop him!”

The stage audience.

The tech workers.

You’re running. Words aren’t fast enough, and Ben’s too far gone for them anyway. You are, though. You’re flying, tearing across the stage and throwing yourself against Ben. He falls to the ground, the light still building, and twists to try and throw you off of him, his eyes so deep into himself you don’t think he knows it’s you.

Pressed against him, you can only feel the drums, and you brace yourself as the light in him explodes.

It’s painful. A blinding and unforgiving pain that sears through your body. Numbness follows behind it though, fast and empty relief, and when your eyes can see once more Ben is watching you with horror across every feature.

He looks like he’s going to roar at you, tear into and across you. You can feel fury and something deep into his chest that’s screaming.

Firecracker lets out a breathy, sobbing laugh from somewhere to your side, and even if nothing in him wavers, it saves you from whatever Ben was going to say.

“Shit, you're both pathetic. You can’t even take out one person?” Firecracker starts to pull herself up to her feet. “I don’t know why Homelander was so worried about y’all. You’re weak.” She reaches down, grabbing the back of your tattered Noire jacket and pulling you off of Ben. “I mean, I expected more from at least you, Soldier Boy. He looks up to you still, you know. Was so hopeful you’d flip. But,” she shakes her head sadly. “What a disappointment.”

You’re not sure how it happens, let alone where the energy comes from, but you twist in Firecracker’s hold and punch her square in the face. She drops her hold, stumbling back as her nose starts to fill with blood. You never hit the floor though, Ben’s arm looping around your waist as he draws himself upwards.

Everything is sharp and hungry anger that is driving in you—in Ben—to Firecracker. The thing in his chest is still clawing at him, and you can feel your own glacial fervor, but nothing is as strong as the hungry anger.

Firecracker doesn’t feel it though, the storm that's brewing. And she doesn’t know when to quit.

“You worthless bitch.” She sneers through her fingers, trying to plug the blood. “You frigid little whore.”

“Watch it.” Ben growls, arm tensing around your waist.

“Oh, fuck off, you fossil! She’s tricking you, sinking her little claws into her like she did Homelander, with her stupid little songs and dances!”

“Shut up,” the words don’t come out in the firm command you wanted. Your voice sounds pathetic, weak against your ears.

“Do you have any idea how fucking exhausting you’ve been?” Firecracker whines. “Everything was amazing until you came back. He was starting to trust me! And then Sage comes back, accuses Homelander of lyin to her, and says you’re alive. And all of a sudden that’s all that fucking matters! He’s just angry and hurt and it’s so annoying.”

The world is less focused.

“I’ve heard Moon River so many fucking times this week, it makes my skin fucking crawl. I don’t even get it! What can you do that I can’t? I want him, you don’t even care to stick around-“

Nothing is in focus. It’s only Firecracker, her voice, and the feeling.

“I love him, I am perfect for him, I am blessed and chosen and you’re just a lonely little stuck up slut who didn’t even wait after leaving him and everything he did for you-“

Her teeth are so white and you don't think you can breathe.

“Everything he gave you-“

You can feel ghosts of the pain, see the bright light as they push the fire into you. Can feel it now, trying to get out.

“To turn around and spread your fucking whore legs!”

Something in you snaps. Cracks, echoes through your body, and explodes. You’re everywhere, the fire bleeding from you. You can’t see anything but the white room around you, and you have to get out. So you let everything go. It’s just you and the fire, cocooning around you and keeping you safe.

Just you and the fire and something else that is gripping around you. Something in your chest that is thrashing and trying to keep you close. It feels safe too, so you let it stay as everything else continues to burn.

A deep, roaring voice is calling your name. It sounds like the thing in your chest, and it reverberates through you as if it’s pressed against you. There are screams too, broken and raw screams, but you can’t see where they’re coming from, and they don’t feel safe like the voice.

The thing gripping around you feels heavier. It feels safer. There’s no city lights, you can’t even really remember what they might look like, but there’s music. Soft and deep in your ear, wrapping around you. Putting something out along your skin. You’re getting weak, and you feel cold.

You can’t stop. Something in your head tells you. You falter, and you’re back in the room.

But you’re so tired. The grip feels safe. And the music is settling into you and feels so good.

So when the world goes black, the last thing you feel is the thing in your chest reaching for you, and you could swear it breathes in relief.

————

He’d figured it out. The tapping. Firecracker had said Moon River, and he’d realized that was it. The rhythm of the verses matched that incessant tapping of Hers perfectly. He’d taken a fucking gamble, dragging the verses from somewhere deep in his brain as she’d been consumed by the fire, and it had paid off when She’d collapsed into him. The fire still lingered long after She closed her eyes, long after Ben stopped humming. Most of the stage was ash, from the hollowed, disgusting bodies of Firecracker and a few unfortunate audience members to the still flaming stage curtains.

Ben picked her up, and her eyes didn’t even flutter. Her body was still burning, and his hands protested in pain against her skin, but he bit down his pain with ease. Ben wasn’t a pussy, and he’d heal. This was more important.

A thought that had everything in him—except the feeling he’d been keeping in his gut that had somehow managed to crawl into his chest—very fucking irritated.

Ben turned, carrying Her off the stage to get her as far away from here as possible, only to find both MM and Butcher waiting, guns pointed right at his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled. They didn’t have any fucking time for these dramatics. As far as he fucking understood from Her explanations, all that shit show had just been broadcast through the fucking nation. Homelander was probably on his way, and Ben wouldn’t be able to do his fucking job and wipe the floor with that pussy if She was still unconscious and the stupid fucking thing in his chest was worried.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gov.” Butcher jeered back. “We’re not letting you off that bloody easy.”

Ben glowered at him, and his desire to throw Butcher against the nearest concrete wall was only barely defeated by the godforsaken need to get Her somewhere safe. “We don’t have fucking time for this. Move out of my fucking way, or I’ll make you.”

“Take your best fucking shot, cunt.” Butcher taunted.

“Last fucking chance to get out of my way.” Ben could hear the hitch in both their hearts, uneven from the growing steadiness in Hers.

“We ain’t moving, Soldier Boy.” MM angled his gun higher. “And you’re not taking her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking pussies!” Ben roared, whatever patience he’d managed to hold onto vanished. “Homelander is probably on his fucking way, and unless you want him to take her, we need to fucking leave right fucking now!”

Both men blink, Ben’s words hanging in the air just long enough that he was starting to get ready to just fucking push through them. He’d deal with Her anger about it later, when she was awake and they were far fucking away from cages and boxes.

But MM lowered his gun, narrowing his eyes at Ben. “You’re going to let us take you back to the safe house?” His voice had a tone of disbelief that Ben didn’t fucking appreciate.

“Fucking hell, yes. Now fucking move your dumb fucking asses before I change my fucking mind!”

MM looked over at Butcher, whose gun was still aimed at Ben’s head. “The kid’s bringing the van round?”

“He bloody should be.“ Butcher grunted, but didn’t move. “But that don’t mean shit, I ain’t trusting this cunt to go quietly.”

“I’m certainly not going to go quietly if you keep a fucking gun in my face.” Ben sneered. “I might not do jackshit to me, but it’s goddamn rude when I’m trying to fucking help.”

“Why should we trust that?” MM asked coldly, glancing down at Her in Ben’s arms. “This is your ticket out. You’re probably just going to kill us in the van while she’s still out.”

Ben fucking knew that, he wasn’t an fucking idiot. He could hear Her heartbeat, fully steady as sleep held her under, could feel the scalding heat of her body almost fully faded. When he glanced down at her face, it painted into an empty ease. But when he blinked, it would flash back to just before she’d burst. Afraid. Only pure terror on Her face as Firecracker screamed about Homelander.

She wasn’t going back there.

“I guess you’re going to have to take a fucking gamble.” Ben held MM’s stare. “Because you have five seconds to fucking move before I kill both you pussies and leave with her.”

Some part of Ben still managed to be surprised when they exchanged one last, tense look, MM’s eyes flaring at Butcher, who dropped his gun with an angry huff. When MM started to walk away, likely to where Cocksucker waited with the van, and Butcher only said, “Breathe one wrong breath, Soldier Boy, and I’ll put you right back under.”

Ben wanted to. He wanted to step just far out enough of line that he’d be justified in bashing Butcher’s smug, pussy fucking head against the curb. But he didn’t, just keeping Her in place against him until they were back at the safe house, glaring at the whole sorry fucking lot of Her team as they watched Ben hold Her in the corner. Her heartbeat stayed steady, and it kept the drum in him from bursting, aided by the thing in his chest settling back into him the more distance grew between Her and the stage, Vought Tower, and Homelander.

When they reached the safe house, Ben didn’t bother to pause, waiting only for Butcher to open the door, before he was moving through the hall in tight, bounding steps. Up the stairs, shoving the door to Her room open, laying her on the bed above her sheets. She let out a little sigh as he let her go, and Ben hated how it made the thing in his chest wake up. He had to get himself under fucking control. She was safe, he’d done what he fucking needed to, and he wasn’t about to be a goddamn creep and watch her sleep.

The seconds were starting to stretch though, as he watched Her, listened to the steady sound of her heart. She looked so fucking peaceful, and it was calming the thing in his chest.

Fuck, he didn’t like how easy it felt. Especially as she let out another small sigh, rolling over with an arm stretching out, and he wanted to touch her upturned palm. That realization snapped him out of whatever stupid fucking trance he’d been dragged into, and he managed to turn, walking towards the door.

Before he left though—practically against his will—he turned back just in time to hear another sigh and see Her body curl into the mattress.

“Sleep well, Sunshine.” He muttered and tried to ignore the last sigh released from her chest, and how if ran through him.

When Ben got down to the kitchen, goddamn fucking Cocksucker and Starlight were waiting for him.

“What are you cum guzzlers still fucking doing here?” He grumbled, pushing past them to get to the pantry.

“Is she ok?” Cocksucker asked, and Ben shrugged, grabbing a bag of half-eaten jerky from the top shelf.

“She’ll fucking live.” He ignored the flash of Her fearful face in his head, and how his grip on the bag turned to steel. “One of you better answer my goddamn question.”

“We need to talk to her,” Starlight said softly.

“Don’t hold your fucking breath, she’s out cold.” Ben snapped.

Starlight sighed. “We’ll wait.”

“No, you won’t.” Ben turned around to face her. “She needs to fucking rest.”

“Cocksucker look between Starlight and Ben nervously. “We need to make sure-“

“She did you a fucking favor.” Ben growled. “Firecracker’s not a problem anymore, and her stupid plan fucking worked.”

“She killed four people.” Starlight said tightly. “And after Ashley, we need to know that she’s still with us.”

“With you?” Ben scoffed, saying Her name in the same exasperated tone. “Her? You think she’s going to turn against you fucking pussies?”

“She’s- she’s been weird.” Cocksucker stuttered. “And you’ve gotten closer than we thought-“

“Fuck off.” Ben snorted. “I haven’t turned her, if that’s what your dumb little pea-brains think.”

“We’re not who you have to convince, Soldier Boy.” Starlight watched Ben with a frown. “I trust her. Hughie trusts her.”

“Then what the fuck-“

“Butcher,” Cocksucker said softly. “MM. Mallory. They’re worried she’s going to be a liability.”

“Then they can come fucking tell me their fucking selves.” Ben hissed. “Now get the fuck out.”

Starlight looked like she was going to push back, and Ben was ready to throw her through the door himself, but Cocksucker placed his hand on her back, and something passed silently between them.

“Fine,” Starlight sighed, giving Ben one last, tired look. “If you promise to tell us when she’s awake, I can try and hold them off.” Her eyes narrowed. “For her.”

Ben grunted. “Deal.”

And they were gone, and Ben was alone in the kitchen.

She didn’t wake up for three full days. Three, long, insufferably quiet days where it was just Ben. Three days of pacing, of eating alone, of watching TV all through the damn night because he couldn’t sleep even if he fucking tried. Three days of the awful thing in his chest making up stupid excuse to open the door to her room and check to see if she had vanished. She never had, she would always be twisted on the bed, heart steady, face empty. At some point Ben moved Her under the covers, after he made up an excuse to touch her and found her not burning like he’d been checking for, but freezing cold. Three long days of wishing She was awake, reminding himself he didn’t fucking need Her awake, and the thing in his chest roaring that he did.

He tried to push it down, and almost succeeded, but at the end of the second day he walked downstairs from where he’d been standing outside her door for a disgustingly long time—finally managing to not push in and check on her—to find Butcher in the living room.

“She’s still out.” Ben had grunted, and Butcher had only shrugged.

“I ain’t here for her. We need to have a little chat.”

“I’m good.”

“I wasn’t bloody asking.”

Ben remembered wondering in the moment if he was already in enough hot water that killing Butcher wouldn’t really matter. “You’re playing a game you can’t fucking win.” He’d warned, and even Butcher’s heart hadn’t stuttered.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a flash, Gov. But not until you fucking listen.” Butcher managed to have more intelligence than Ben thought him capable of, and didn’t wait to hear Ben’s answer before he began. “Her plan, somehow, bloody worked. Most of the media coverage is sayin that Firecracker started panicking and lying to try and keep herself alive. You’re being label as a crazed lunatic, out for revenge.”

“Then what’s the fucking problem-“

“Her. Everyone’s buying the story about Her and Homelander, thinkin you kidnapped her after we tried to kill her.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make any fucking sense.”

“Don’t need to make sense. It’s the narrative Vought got, and they’re running with it. As far as the public knows, you’re back, out for bloody and evil revenge, and are holding her hostage to hurt Homelander.” Butcher narrowed his eyes at Ben. “And they’ve reached out. They want to meet with you.”

“They?” Ben paused, ready to grab Butcher’s tongue and make him stop talking in fucking riddles. “Who the fuck is they?”

“Vought.” Butcher said shortly. “Sage. Homelander.”

Ben snorted. “Fuck no. We’re not bringing her anywhere near that goddamn pussy and his conniving bitch.”

“Good thing they only want to talk to you, then, ain’t it.”

That made Ben pause, eyes narrowing at Butcher as suspicion had begun to build in his chest. “The fuck are you talking about.”

“One hour, a truce, just you, me, Starlight, Homelander, and Sage. At the old Starlight Fund building. Just talking.”

Ben snorted. “You dumb enough to believe that?”

“Nope. But you agree, it happens.”

Ben grunted. He didn’t trust any of it. He didn’t trust Homelander to have no ulterior motive. He didn’t trust Sage to not be plotting something. He didn’t trust Butcher to not have a fucking trick up his stupid fucking Hawaiian shirt. “And if don’t.”

Butcher shrugged. “Then this conversation never happened.”

Ben had said your name carefully, trying to feel out whatever it was he fucking knew Butcher was hiding. “What about her?”

“She’d stay here.”

Ben raised his brows at that. “You’d trust me without her?”

“Fucking hell, no. Not if hell bloody froze over. Don’t trust you with her. We’d set up something to make you go night-night if you get all nuclear. CIA got more than enough gas to put you under, they can spare some for our lovely uses.”

“How long does the offer stand?” Ben asked, pushing down the drum.

Butcher had shrugged. “Until you give an answer.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ben said. “Now get the fuck out.”

Butcher chuckled dryly. “Alright, Gov. Keep your damn pants on.” As Butcher walked, hands in pockets, down the hall, he paused as he passed Ben, and shoved something into his hands. “She dropped those on her way to the stage. Good luck when she wakes up, Mate. I’d keep her away from the telly.”

Ben had looked down at what Butcher had given him as the man walked away, brow furrowing at what he found.

Shitty, off-brand Soldier Boy sunglasses.

Ben had placed them in his room to give to Her later. But another full day had passed before she woke up, and Ben’s mind had not stilled the whole fucking time.

He hadn’t been lying. Ben thought about Butcher’s—Homelander’s—offer. Constantly. Starting with the fact that he didn’t have a goddamn thing to say to Homelander. The shock of their relation had long passed, fading into a numbness of just another fucking job for Ben to do, just another way in which he had to be alone. Then the numbness had been replaced by a blinding wrath. A disgust from what he had done. Ben wasn’t a saint, saints were weak, self-righteous whiners. But he wasn’t a fucking monster. He did what had to be done, and a little more to make sure he didn’t have to do it again. He didn’t take women and lock them in cages. He didn’t hurt people until the singular thought of him made them afraid. People fear Ben, yes. But just as much as they should.

Ben didn’t fear Homelander. She didn’t fear Ben. But She feared Homelander. A weak, fucking pathetic man who had needed to break someone stronger than him, someone worth more than him powerless, to feel big. She was worth so much more than Homelander that she wanted to help people. Worth so much more that she still somehow looked at the world and found it worth something. She found worth in fucking everything. Everything was amusing to Her, everything was beautiful, everything had value and meaning. Ben fucking hated it. It leaked into him, and felt fucking strange. Because he could hear Her in his head, saying Pretty Boy, this is an opportunity. Don’t be a petty baby and waste it.

And that was where the thoughts would loop. Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Homelander had hurt Her and Ben never would. She’d find a way to use this, though, and She’d want him to go. But Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Over and over until Ben heard Her heartbeat stutter, heard shuffling around in Her room, and had to fight the thing roaring in his chest to sprint up the stairs. He somehow managed to remain seated on the couch, everything in him fucking strained to stay in place as she tapped down the stairs and cleared her throat behind him.

Ben turned to find Her watching him with eyes still crusted from sleep. When She spoke, her voice was hoarse, and her words were quiet.

“How long was I out?”

“Few days.” Ben answered, trying to watch her passively, to pretend he wasn’t studying her every feature. He wasn’t even fucking sure what he was looking for himself.

“What-“ She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

Ben paused, finding her eyes again. Keep her away from the telly, Butcher had said, and Ben had immediately checked to see what the fuck he was talking about. He’d found the answer fast: photos of Firecracker’s scorched body, interviews with the families of the audience members who had met the same fate. Speculation about what Ben was doing to Her, fabricated “evidence” of Her and Homelander’s love. A complete, well-developed, entirely bullshit story about her life. Born in the same hometown as Homelander, happily giving up her life to support him, working instead behind the scenes in Vought marketing and cooking in her free time.

Homelander didn’t have a hometown, that pussies whole story was even more bullshit Vought propaganda than Ben’s was.

She wouldn’t “give up her life” to support anyone. And if she did, they’d have to hear her bitch about it until they fucking died.

Ben had once heard her call marketing “a plague upon human culture and societal development” during the third commercial break of one of his football games.

Everyone would know if She had tried to cook Homelander food, because it would’ve killed him.

Butcher had wanted Ben to lie. But Ben fucking knew She wouldn’t have lied to him. And he knew She would find out the truth somehow and be a real bitch about Ben lying to her.

“Three audience members and Firecracker died. You passed out. We got back here.”

“Oh,” she said softly, but didn’t look away, and Ben could see something fragile in her eyes fracture. Hear the taps of Moon River begin. “What are they saying?”

“They?”

“Vought.”

“Your plan worked.” Ben grunted, and the rhythm of Her heart told him she knew there was more. “But Firecracker’s bullshit stuck. I’m being painted as a revenge-blind maniac, and you’re being painted as my victim.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “If anything, you’re my victim.”

Ben felt his mouth twitch. “That’s what I keep fucking saying.”

She let out another, smaller huff of amusement before her face fell back into that soft state, her eyes still tired as she watched him. “That’s all?”

He nodded. “That’s all.”

She gave one last sigh, and it sounded so weak. He wanted to grab her and figure out a way to make her move. Get her to sit next to him and laugh so the fucking thing in his chest would let go of his lungs. Before he could, though, she turned and padded back up the stairs, her door closing behind her.

Another day passed before Ben even fucking saw her again. She’d slunk into the kitchen around dinner, hair tangled and eyes hollow, heating up a box-meal before placing it on a plate and carrying it back upstairs. The next day was the same, and Ben had tried to grab her and make her fucking talk to him, and she'd stared at him with a wide, empty gaze.

“We need to fucking talk.” He’d grunted.

“Please don’t.” Her voice had been so fucking quiet.

“Don’t what?” He’d growled. “Fucking talk to you? You’re just going to never fucking talk to me again?”

She’d given a small shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk. Please.”

“You’re being fucking weird.”

“Please.” She’d sounded desperate. “I can’t talk. Please.”

He’d never heard her say please so many times. He’d only seen her like this, a weak and fearful girl, once.

He’d hated it on the Neuman mission. He hated it now.

He hated she looked weaker now. Hopeless. He hated how he relented, let go of her, and she’d gone back upstairs and didn’t come back down. Two more days passed, and the only way Ben knew she was alive was the sounds of music coming from her room and the food that vanished from the kitchen overnight.

Ben was going to lose his fucking mind. The last time she’d avoided him this much had been the beginning, and, fuck, that had been better than this. She’s seen him and fought with him, tearing him to pieces as he did the same to her. Stood her fucking ground against him, a completely insufferable, violent, angry bitch of a woman. Even after they’d called truce on their war, she’d remained a powerfully wrathful, unrelenting pain in Ben’s ass. Now she wouldn’t stand in the same fucking room as him, and he was going to go fucking insane.

So, on the fifth day, Ben banged down her door, ready to demand she fucking tell him who to kill to fix this.

He found her curled in her bed, staring far ahead into nothing. Something hit his nose that he forced himself to ignore, and she didn’t even move as he pushed into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked gruffly. She didn’t answer, so he said her name roughly. “What’s fucking wrong with you?”

“Why did you do it?” Her voice was light—frail—as she stared ahead.

“Do fucking what?”

She finally looked at him. “Why did you go back, with Sage, why did you fucking do that?”

“I saved your life, Sunshine. And you never even fucking thanked me.” Ben knew his words were cruel, shooting to hurt Her. But maybe she’d fucking fight him. Fucking do something that wasn’t just fucking sitting there.

“You should’ve left me.” She whispered, Ben rolled his eyes, and her voice raised. Not to a scream, but a high-pitched, frantic tone of desperation. “You should’ve! You should’ve left me and run! You could’ve been free, why did you do that! Why! You should’ve just fucking left me!”

This was worse, Ben knew. So much fucking worse. “Why are you being so fucking dramatic-“

“You should’ve left me to die!” She screamed. “You should’ve just left me to die! Why didn’t you just let me fucking die?!”

Ben stared at Her as she started to cry, shaking on the bed, trying to push herself further back into its frame. She’d tucked her head into her arms, sobs wracking through her whole body as she held herself, fingers digging into her skin. No smoke was rising, no tapping or chewing, just Her tears falling as she let out another, broken scream. Ben was frozen, he didn’t know how to fucking deal with this. Fuck, he barely knew how to deal with Her when she wasn’t breaking down in front of him.

Through sobs, Ben heard Her say it again. “It would be better if you had just let me die.”

Ben didn’t need the thing in his chest to tell him to move. He crossed the room in two long steps, dropping on the bed next Her.

“Look at me.” She didn’t, so Ben grabbed her wrists and pulled them down. “Sunshine, fucking look at me.”

She glanced down at where he still held her and blinked, letting out a stuttered breath. Her voice was still so weak when she spoke, “What?”

“Fucking look at me.” He growled one last time, and she finally did, her eyes still so empty. “You’re being fucking stupid.”

She gaped at him, disbelief finally filling her expression. It wasn’t the amusement or rage Ben wanted back, but it was something.

“What?’

“You’re being a goddamn idiot. Things would…” The words vomited out of him. “Be a lot fucking worse if you were dead.”

She shook her head, the hopeless looking creeping back. “I killed four people, they’d still be alive-“

"Maybe.” Ben grunted. “Maybe not. But they, along with a few more, would still be dead if you hadn’t knocked me down. Which was even fucking stupider than you’re being now, but we’ll fix that later.”

“Fix that?” She gave him a sharp look, words still choked. “I thought we agreed not to fix each other.”

“You agreed not to fix me. I made no such fucking promises.”

There was a silence for a second before She spoke again. “I don’t want you to ‘fix me’. I want to care that I…” Her stuttered, and she took another shaky breath before pushing them out. “I hurt people.”

“That’s to job, Sunshine.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I didn’t even want the job anyway.”

Ben watched her, wrists still in his hands, face faraway, and eyes still lined with tears. An image flashed in front of him, of Her a few years younger, singing karaoke and crying about stupid, normal shit. Something Ben himself had never done, something Ben wouldn’t even know how to miss. The image lingered in his head, her smile carefree, singing loudly and off-key, no blood on her hands, and the thing in his chest was angry.

“Ben?” She said softly, and the image vanished. “I’m sorry.”

He scowled. “Why are you fucking apologizing to me?”

“You don’t want to deal with this, with me. It’s not- it’s not useful to cry over spilled milk-“

“Shut up,” he snapped. “No, it’s not useful. For me. For Butcher. For Homelander. You get to whine over it, because-“

“Because I’m a woman?” She asked dryly, and he glared at her.

“No, smartass. Because you’re not like us. You didn’t fucking choose this.”

“You didn’t choose that,” she nodded to his chest. “Do you get to cry?”

“I don’t cry.” He said firmly, and She tilted her head at him in a way he didn’t like. “But I get to be angry. You get to be angry. And if you need to have a little breakdown to be angry, then so fucking be it.”

“But I killed people-“

Ben rolled his eyes. “Three Homelander supporters and Firecracker. Real fucking contributors to society, I’m sure.”

“They were still people.” She pushed. “People who I killed. People who would be alive-”

“If you say ‘if you were dead’, I’ll kill you myself.” Ben snapped.

She stared at him in disbelief and something harsher flickered in Her eyes. Fucking finally.

“I’d like to see you fucking try, Pretty Boy.”

He huffed a laugh. “I’ll wipe the floor with your ass, Sunshine.”

“I’ll make you regret crawling out of your mother in the first place, cunt.” She taunted, and Ben felt a wide grin on his face.

“I’m sure you will, you bitch.” Ben gave her a sweeping look. Her matted hair, tear crusted and red eyes, the smell he’d been pushing down starting to feel fucking visible. “But you need to fucking shower first, you smell like the shit you’ve been wallowing in.”

She glared at him, and for a second Ben thought she’d keep fighting him, or worse, start crying again, but she just gave a light tug against where he still held her.

“Can’t fucking shower if you won’t let me move, Ben.” She said flatly, and Ben rolled his eyes as he let go.

“Fucking drama queen,” he muttered, and She gave him a sarcastic, toothy smile as she stood.

“Eat me.”

“I would if you’d let me, Sunshine.” He called after Her, and though she closed the door with a slam, Ben still heard her heart flutter.

He waited as the water ran and tried not to think about Her, naked, in just the other room. Tried not to think about the relief the thing in his chest had felt when she’d stopped crying, the satisfaction it felt when he’d gotten her to laugh, and the stupid fucking anger it had felt at everything when she’d broken in front of him. He didn’t let himself dwell on the way it made him sit here. Fucking waiting for her like a lost goddamn puppy. Wanting to make sure she was okay. She was fine, she wasn’t sobbing and screaming, so she was fucking fine.

But what if She’s not, you fucking ass? The thing growled. What if she’s just waiting for you to leave?

Ben fucking hated that it worked, and he stayed on the bed.

What if She needs you? It hissed. What if she wants you to stay?

Ben loathed that even more. Because it echoed in his brain, and made him listen intently for any sounds of distress over the water, made him sit rigid and alert until the door opened.

She walked out, a towel wrapped around her body. She blinked at him once, and Ben couldn’t fucking figure out if she was even surprised he was there.

“Clothes,” she mumbled, walking to her dresser. Ben grunted, and watched her return to the bathroom, the door closing behind her once more.

Maybe he should go now. It was late, it had been a weird, long fucking day. He should fucking go and put some distance between the thing in his stupid fucking chest and Her-

The door opened, and She walked over to drop back on the bed, a small smile on her face.

“You’re real shit at comforting people, Pretty Boy.”

Fine. He’d fucking stay.

“Good.” Ben grunted. “And it fucking worked on you. Didn’t even get a damn ‘thank you.’”

He felt Her hand on his arm, and looked at her face, soft and open. “Thank you.”

He grunted again, staring back at the wall, and she chuckled.

“I mean, it was still a shit job, but it was so shit it looped around into being remarkably effective.”

“Doesn’t count as a damn thank you, Sunshine, if you fucking insult me right after.”

She shrugged. “Then do a better fucking job next time, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorted. “Don’t hold your damn breath.” She didn’t respond, and he turned to find Her watching him, lips in a thin frown with her brow gently wrinkled. “I can hear the fucking gears in your head, Sunshine.” He said. “Say what you’re fucking thinking.”

“I’m going to ask you something once. If your answer is no, you’re not allowed to talk about it again.”

Ben frowned. Every time she started a question with a phrase like that, it ended up being something fucking insane. “Okay.” He said shortly, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“If you want, you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to-“

“Quit fucking edging and spit it out.”

She glared at him. “You can stay in here tonight.”

Ben stared at Her, the thing in his chest clawing against him. “What?”

“You can sit in my bed. If you want. I know you won’t sleep, and I won’t sleep well, and I’d probably end up sitting in your room at some point-“

“Why?” Ben cut off Her rambling, frowning.

She held his gaze, her uneven heart the only sign of her nerves. “I don’t-“ she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone. You’d just be sitting here, nothing else. But if you don’t-“

“Fine.” He answered, and the thing in his chest roared.

“Oh,” she paused, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure She’d expected him to say no. “Okay. Good.”

She pulled herself under the covers, looking up at Ben from her back. He didn’t like what that made him feel, and how easy it would be to just pull Her against him and keep her there.

“Thank you.” She said with a small smile. “No insults."

“Whatever,” Ben grumbled, leaning back in a pointless attempt to find a comfortable position. “Just saving you the fucking walk to my room.”

“You’re a saint,” she mumbled sarcastically, eyes drooping. “I’m sure this must have been very hard for you.”

“I’ll live.” He said, watching Her. “I need you functional, Sunshine. Small, stupid fucking price to pay.”

“You need me?” She breathed out, a sleepy smile on her face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “You burn, I burn.” He echoed the words she'd said before. “I’m not going to let you fucking burn. You don’t get away from me that easy.”

“How sweet.” She whispered, eyes fully closing. “I won’t let you burn either, Pretty Boy.”

Ben wanted to protest, and tell Her that he wasn’t sweet, just practical, and he—despite the protests of the thing in his chest—didn’t need her at all. But Her breathing became steady and even, fast asleep in seconds at his side, and he couldn’t fucking bring himself to wake her. So Ben just studied Her sleeping face, not empty, not twisted in pain, a soft smile playing on her lips. He should fucking go, She was asleep and that’s all She’d fucking needed from him. But he stayed in place, and watcher Her like a fucking creep. Her peaceful face, smooth heartbeat, and gentle breaths soothing the thing in his chest. Ben need to get himself under fucking control, he was being fucking pathetic.

But he stayed, all fucking night, unable to move and barely capable of looking away. And the more of the night that passed, the long he watched Her, the more he realized she was pretty. Really fucking pretty. He hadn’t been fucking blind, he’d known she was pretty before. Thought about it more than he’d ever fucking admit. But fuck, this was different. She was really, really goddamn pretty. And then She rolled over, settling so she was comfortably pressed against him, and he realized she was beautiful. Like one of those stupid, overpriced paintings art-pussies in the 70s had tried to sell him. But real. Fucking beautiful, in a way that made him unable to look away, that made him feel fucking stupid.

Beautiful in a way that made him stay at Her side the whole night, frozen on her bed with her body against him, all the way until the sun started to leak into the room.

[kavlitzlver]

Fuck me you.

Tom Kaulitz x Fem!reader

summary : after moving to America to persue your acting career, you had to leave your old life behind, with that, the complicated relationship you had with Tom Kaulitz too. One day you two fuck, the other you’re just typical best friends. You managed to stay in contact for a while through face time and texts, until you found out about that girlfriend of his. When you were invited to an after party of some award show, things get very heated.

warnings: smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex , just sexual language

I wrote this in a hurry and didn’t test read it, so excuse me for any mistakes :)

———————————————————

The loud music was blasting through my ears, people dancing and laughing everywhere I looked as I scanned the whole club. I knew he’d be here anywhere, I saw his damn name on that security guards list. Tom Kaulitz.

His name alone caused my stomach to turn.

I sat down at one of the round tables standing in each corner of the overfilled club, full of celebrities I’d die to talk too. The co stars of my recent Tv show sat besides me, ordering drinks and talking about the next few shoots we had, but all I could do was looking for him, looking for his fucking face in that crowd. He still had that chokehold over me.

There he was, now with black braids, a bandana around his head, his typical oversized clothes, all black, legs spread like he wants everyone to stare, his tongue playing with his lip piercing, so damn arrogant - just like I remembered.

He spotted me all the way from the other side of the club, his dark eyes reflecting the lights, staring right through my souls when he starts to grin. I felt my heart sink to the ground, a mixture of anger and desperation inside me, I hated how he still looked at me like nothing happened.

I stand up, pulling my tight dark red dress a few inches down as it slipped almost above my ass, I don’t dare looking at him, but when I did for just a second, he was already standing, watching my every move. His head pointed to the bathroom, grinning at me like a desperate animal as he mouthed something I couldn’t quite understand.

Fuck me, why did I actually found my way into that bathroom, why does he still have that control over me.

I closed the door, facing the wall when I fix my hair and dress, not even daring to look behind when two hands gripped my waist, pulling me back until there was no space between us. “Missed me?” his raspy voice send shivers down my spine, I felt his breath on my neck, his mouth almost touching my ear.

He turned me around in a quick motion, almost throwing me against the wall, his whole body pressed against mine, lips almost touching. “Haven’t answered my calls…” he stroked my hair behind my ear, revealing my neck. “Not nice.”

“Didn’t want to be a burden for that blonde chick you’ve been fucking” I scoff, tensing under his touch.

“Who told you?” He looked up again, almost surprised by my words. His hands slit down my waist,then my thighs, until he found the end of my dress, pulling it up just enough so he could slit under it. “Who told you?” He repeated, playing with the hem of my laces underwear. I couldn’t help but slipped out a soft moan as his fingers left soft touches down there, running circles on my inner thigh.

“Does it matter-“ I look to the side, not facing him, I knew one look into those eyes would make me weak. He grinned, moving my panties to the side and inserting his middle finger into me, making me gasp. “Trying to change the subject hm? ” his voice echoed through my ears, his finger moving in and out of me as I barely stood on two feet. He clearly enjoyed the effect he caused on me as he had a satisfied smile all over his face.

“Who told you?” Tom asked again, not bothering to slow down his pace as he inserts another finger inside me, making my walls clench around him, a wet mess. “I-…fuck-“ my head empty, i couldn’t find words as he kept moving in and out while placing kisses on my neck. “Words baby….I need words…” he hummed against my skin. “Wasn’t nice just ignoring me-“

“No- No one told me- i-…found out…didn’t wanna be a…fuck Tom..” I was a wet mess, melting under his rough motions. “You’re jealous-“ his eyes fixated on mine whenever he lifted his head from my neck. So satisfied by the way my body reacted to him. When his fingers exited me I let out a gasp, desperate for more. He found the zipper of my dress, slowly undoing it until he ripped it off me in a quick motion, throwing it somewhere on that dirty bathroom floor. His one hand immediately found my nipple, playing with it while he kissed the other, leaving me a moaning mess. “She wasn’t my girlfriend…” I felt like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, but I was too stubborn to show. “Just a bitch that thought she could own me..” his lips hummed against my sensitive skin, his lips kissing my body, starting with my nipples, then down to my stomach, my inner thighs. “She’s nothing compared to you” those words alone could make me reach my peak in an instant, he was on his knees, kissing my inner thighs when he moved closer and closer to my wet mess. “You’ve been a bad girl-“ his fingers played with the hem of my lingerie, pulling it down slowly as my body was aching for him, he still had that damn control over me.

“Fuck you.” I moan as he stopped kissing me, now looking at me from down on his knees. “How about I fuck you instead hm?” He slid his finger into me again in a rough motion, his thumb running circles over my clit when my hands found their way to his braids, holding onto him as my legs began to tremble. “Be a good girl hm? Pay for what you’ve done-“ his tongue now replacing his thumb, licking my wet mess and drawing circles around my soft core. “Tom-“ I whined. “Faster-“

his groan sent a vibration on my clit, making me almost lose my mind, his fingers curling just the perfect way to hit my g spot. He looked up to me, I felt him grinning in satisfaction as he watched the effect he had on me, my eyes shut, my mouth gasping for air, I was about to reach my peak.

“Gonna cum…fuck…” i moaned, my walls clenching around him. “Hold on…don’t just yet” he slowed down his pace, his tongue stopping when he slowly stood back up, his fingers still inside me, pressed against my g spot. “Gonna have to wait a bit hm? Show me how much of a good girl you are…” I nodded, a bitter whine escaping my mouth.He pulled out of me, grabbing me by my jaw, his eyes scanning every inch of me, his eyes now staring into mine as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking off my sweet juices. His fingers leaving his mouth with a pop, now stroking over my lips as all i can do is watch him, the wetness between my legs increasing more and more as i couldn’t take any more of his teasing.

His hands wandered down to my thighs, picking me up in a swift motion and sitting me down on the counter, the coldness of it causing my body to shiver. It didn’t take long for him to unbuckle his belt and allow his jeans to fall on the ground, not even caring to take them off completely, his boxers following. His tongue finding its way to his lip ring, playing with it as he spreads my legs with one hand, my wet core now being revealed to him, aching for him inside me.

“So why have you been ignoring me?” He now stood between my legs, wasting no time in positioning himself at my entrance, clapping his tip against my clit. He was so close to being inside me it made me go insane, and he loved watching my body react to his actions.

“Maybe I was done with you..” i was lying through my teeth, My body rested on my elbows, leaned back as Tom had a tight grip on my waist with his one hand, the other on his cock before he buried his head into my neck, i feel him smirk against me.

“Liar-“ he groaned in between kisses. It felt like he couldn’t bare his own teasing anymore as he entered me in a swift motion, stretching me out, i let out a loud moan as my walls needed to get used to his size. He stopped for a moment, before pulling out and bottoming me completely once again, now picking up a slow pace.

“So rude…” his hand playing with my nipple, groans escaping his mouth, i feel my walls clench against him. “Be a good girl hm? Moan for me…” i did as he said, not even needing his command as soft moans and whimpers escaped my mouth, gasping for air as he quickened up his pace, thrusting in and out of me, knowing exactly how to move to hit the right spot, my nails digging into his biceps, needing of a strong hold as i couldn’t bear holding my peak any longer.

“Gonna cum…Tom…” I whined, filling the bathroom with my moans and heavy breaths.

“Cum for me baby..” he now used his thumb to draw circles on my clit, making me go over the edge as I moan his name, my legs wrapped around him as I release my thigh grip, my whole body trembling a he was about to reach his high too. He thrusted into me even rougher now, filling me up so nicely as he groaned and released himself into me. His juices now dripping out of my core as he was riding out his peak.

“So good….” he mumbled as he placed his hot forehead onto mine, staring me deeply in the eyes before placing a kiss on my lips, still inside me.

“That bitch is nothing to me kay?” he grinned, his hand now cupping my face, stroking a tear away that has escaped my eye. “You better not ignore me next time”

“Maybe I will.”

[chrisevansstitties]

Hey, guys remember when people were trying to say Tyler was a groomer for dating Wednesday because he was supposedly older than Wednesday. Keep in mind that there’s scene like where Lucas was trying to stop his friends from pranking the Rave’N and they accuse him of going soft like Tyler. Also, in the first episode I believe when before Wednesday beats they guys asses they tell Tyler, “Galpin” they call him, to say out of it. So they know Tyler. And given these interactions it’s safe to assume Tyler knows these guys and they used to hang out. And if we say on that mindset we can also say they may have went to the same school and hung out in the same group. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they could’ve have been the ones that helped Tyler prank Xavier mural on outreach day. What I’m leading to for the slow people is that they’re all the same age. And if Lucas and his friends are the same age as Wednesday and her friends we can say Tyler is too.

Like, I wonder what it is that made them jump to that conclusion. Is it because he has a job? Because teenagers can have jobs. Is it because he drives. I mean they live in a small town so that’s not unusual. It an international fan thing? Do they not get the this is normal in America? It could be a because Hunter is 30 playing a teenager and that I can almost understand but it’s not unusual in Hollywood. Im just trying to understand the adultifying, not sure if that’s the right word, of Tyler. It makes it easier not to sympathize with his story if he’s seen as an adult. But once you think about the fact that Tyler is a teen 16-17 now like the rest of the characters. Then you’d have to focus on the fact that he had to be around 14-15 when Laurel manipulated him, tortured him, had him chained up in a cave, and physically abused and drugged him all in the efforts to break down his mind and resolve to turn him into a monster she could use do do her bidding. And that already sounds fucked up with the supernatural part of him being a Hyde. The fact that this grown woman could do this to a kid monster or not. But Tyler doesn’t get to be a kid in some people eyes. And I’m I wonder why. Is it also because they want to… you know what… let me not be messy.

[ameliaenya707]

Cowboy!dabi who works on users grandparents farm and user comes over for summer. He later at night notices her outside watching the stars, and after some chatting leads to user getting fucked silly on a haybale in the barn? 😫😳

Biting my lip so hard it bleeds. My mum is texan and although I was born in Rhode island I'm a SUCKER for cowboys. AHUWGSUQBDHWIW. GOD BLESS AMERICA, COUNTRY ROADS TAKE ME HOME.

You know me so well.

So so well.

Country Boy

Dabi worked the feilds some nights. It wasn't his favorite but it was necessary most nights. Make sure the crops took well to the soil and all. He was trying to make it on the ranch but shit was going down fast. He knew of you. Seen you every once in awhile at the markets, in your pretty little sun dresses picking out fresh produce. How sweet your voice sounded talking to the cashier's when you checked out. Your tote bag slung over one shoulder, a new bouquet of flowers craddled in your other arm every week. Your ranch was only a little ways from his. Around a 5 minute drive in his truck, but he didn't see you often other than at the shops and on his drives, you sitting all pretty on your porch steps, sometimes even waving as he drove past.

Tonight was different though. He was driving back to his ranch when he drove past you sitting on the porch steps looking up at the sky, his window was already down so he figured a little hello wouldn't hurt. He slowed his truck to a molasses pace as he drove past, leaning out his window. "Hey doll, whatcha doing out here so late?"

"Should be asking you the same thing boy," you hum, standing up as his truck comes to a stop and he steps out.

He takes his hat off, throwing it into his truck before turning to face you. "Just came back from the shop, and you?"

"Watchin' the stars is all, they get so pretty these nights." You give him a soft smile, one that never fails to make heat rise to his cheeks. The only stars he wanted to watch were the one in your eyes. He didn't fail to notice a missing car in the drivewygyyay. It was always two, yours and your pops.

"Ya daddy ain't here?" He asks, nodding to the vacant lot in the dirt driveway. He watches as you glance at the driveway before looking back at him.

"He went out for business this weekend...why, have something...in mind?" He chuckled at the softness of you question, a sheepish smile on your pretty face.

"Nothing particularly but you are awfully cute may I say, prettiest girl round here for miles," He tops of his charm with a smirk and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He watched as your cheeks flushed and you averted your gaze to the ground. You were only dressed in a tank top and a cute pair of jeans that he would argue hugged your ass just right. He slid his coat of and drapped it over your shoulders with a wink. He watched as you seemed to consider something before your lips parted to speak.

"I uh...I ain't ever seen horses up close, never owned any...you got some yeah, I was just wondering if you'd let me see them?" You were adorable with the way you twirled a strand of your hair, blinking up at him through long lashes.

"Sorry sweetheart, the horses are out right now. Let a friend borrow them for a riding contest he's doin...I could always show ya round the barn though." This totally wasn't an excuse to see you more tonight. "Take ya in my truck right now if ya want,"

"I'd like that a lot,"

Score!

"Then hop on in, sweetheart." He said, holding out his hand chuckling as you hesitantly took it. He led you round to the passenger side of his truck, helping you step up and climb in. He closed the door, jogging over to his side and sliding in. The drive over was filled with mindless chatter.

He helped you out of the car once you pulled up to his barn. He watched your eyes sparkle once you were inside, admiring the expanse. You turn to him. You were both chest to chest, breaths mingling. Things were really going his way tonight.

"It was real nice of ya to take me over here...don't suppose you'd wanna...get up to something while we're in here?"

"You tryin say you got the hots for me, doll?" He chuckles, grabing your chin softly and tilting your face to look up at him, his lips inches from yours.

"Might be more than the hots," your giggle is infectious and he can't help but press a chaste kiss to your lips, pressing you up against a near haybale. His arms caging you agaist it as he slips his tounge into your mouth.

"Daddy always said you was bad news, your piercings and tattoos. Your attitude. But I'd have to disagree with him," you gasp into his open mouth. Your hands tangling in his hair, lighting tugging on the strands as he trails hot open mouthed kisses down your neck. Leaving marks in their wake. His hands fumbling with the zipper of your pants as you tug off your shirt and bra, tossing them onto the floor.

"You gonna let me ruin you baby?" He mumbles, tugging down your jeans, hooking his fingers in the waist band of your panties. You nod as your hands fly to undo his belt but he stops you. "Gotta hear you say it baby, need to know you want it,"

"I want it! I do, so bad, please Dabi!" He chuckles at how needy your voice is. He lets you pull his pants down before he lifts you up onto the haybale. "Ouch, this shit keeps poking me" you whine.

"Lay down on my jacket, sweetheart" he chuckles, tossing you his jacket, waiting for you to lay it down and lie on it before he slides his boxers off and rips your panties off. "I'll buy ya another pair, don't worry baby..." he promises under his breath, lining himself up with your entrance.

"You ready baby, need any prep?"

"Mm-mm just put it in please, I gotta feel you inside me,"

"Sure you don't want any prep, I ain't exactly small," you glance down at his cock. He was big, six inches atleast with a delicious looking curve. You chew your bottom lip before glancing back up at him.

"I'm ready, c'mon please!" He shrugs, pushing into you. He savours the way whimpers and crys escape your throat as he bottoms out inside you, the euphoric feeling of your nails leaving red lines down his back as he thrust into you. You gasped when cold metal poked at your cervix.

"Surprise baby,"

You mewl in pleasure from the added stimulation of the cold metal of his prince Albert dragging against your gummy walls. The cord in your abdomen winding more and more until it snapped and you cryed out, finishing in time with him as he pulled out to shoot his load on your stomach.

"Could've came inside, m' on birth control..." you pant out once you've regained your voice.

"Next time then?"

"Yeah,"

[rillils]

how do explain stucky from the moment they met to where they are now (together in each others arms) to my friend who knows nothing about marvel

ohh this is a tough one, honey! i think i've got two options for you:

the short answer:

stucky is a compendium of all the best tropes out there, and i'm sure i'm gonna miss a few:

soulmates? check! star-crossed lovers? check! battle husbands? super check! mutual pining? check! 'and they were roommates'? check! best friends to lovers? check check check! long-lost lover comes back from the dead? fuck yeah, check! temporary amnesia? check! dude in distress trope? check! 'they will always find each other and choose each other in every lifetime'? also check! identity porn? extra check! saved by the power of love? you guessed it: check! slow burn or childhood sweethearts? you decide!!! did they share their first kiss when steve was 16, as per a popular fanon theory? did they only confess their feelings during the war? did they only get together much later, when bucky was healing in wakanda? you can pick literally ANY point in their timeline, and it will still make sense! they're all equally valid! you can even have multiple different headcanons at once, i mean who's gonna stop you??? all you have to do is join in the fun! 💕

the long AF answer, aka:

STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 1/3

all right, let's set the scene:

imagine two young kids, let's call them steve and bucky. they meet, they immediately take to each other, they become instant besties! and as they grow up together, facing many hardships, their bond deepens. not only are they best friends; they are also each other's family. they take care of each other, and they both know they can always rely on one another in times of need.

when steve's mom (and only remaining relative) passes away, bucky reminds him that he's not as alone in this world as he thinks he is: bucky will always be by his side. bucky will always love him unconditionally, will always be there for him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, and he wants steve to know that.

in fact, he asks steve to move in with him, thus offering steve both a literal and a metaphorical home.

and steve says yes!

SO. they are each other's home, they're living together, they're getting by all right. but then war breaks out, and eventually it reaches their little home as well: bucky is drafted, and steve, due to his many health issues, and despite his best intentions, can't follow the boy he loves onto the battlefield.

it's a very difficult time for them both - so much so that they can't even bring themselves to talk about it.

they have no choice but to say goodbye for now, knowing that they might never see each other again. but here's something you might not know yet about steve: he's the most reckless, most stubborn fucker america's ever seen. he's not gonna let this stop him!!! instead, he goes and gets a very sweet, kindly scientist to fucking experiment on him, because screw it, he's going to fight in this war if it's the last thing he does. and that's how he goes from Smol Steeb to Lorge Premium Steeb.

of course, things don't go exactly as he predicted, and steve is made to be the star of a war propaganda-fuelled musical kinda thingie, which he resents (but he looks fucking precious in his costume)

BUT! he does get closer to the actual battlefield. which is where he discovers that bucky has been captured by the enemy (!!!!!!!) and is most likely dead by now. but steve isn't willing to give up so easily! he'll believe bucky's dead when he sees it with his own eyes. so, he embarks on this suicide solo mission in the attempt to get bucky back, even if it means wandering on his own. into enemy territory. where he would be shot. on. sight. with no protection for his dumb ass except for a bunch of theater props!!! but such is the power of love, y'all.

against all odds, steve finds bucky very much still alive! and as soon as bucky recognizes him, even as confused as he is, he pulls out this beautiful, ecstatic, angelic-ass smile, like he's just seen god or he got high on some real good edibles or maybe both idk, like my man here was having a serious Religious Experience™ you guys

and i just wanna say, they could have totally kissed here and it would have made plenty of sense. but that's true of like 90% of their scenes in this franchise, so *shrugs*

ANYWAY steve takes bucky in his arms (well technically yes he does) and brings him to safety, and on their way there, bucky proves once more just how hard he meant that "with you til the end of the line" from before

afterwards, steve is finally given the chance to fight, just like he wanted.

bucky, on the other hand, could very well leave the war behind and go home; but when he learns that steve is staying, he chooses to stay too, and fight by his side. and he tells steve so in this very intimate, softspoken, delightfully suggestive conversation, which can be summed up like this:

and so they walk right back into the heart of the fight, only this time together, as they were always meant to be!

but. during an especially tricky mission, they're surprised by the enemy, and as a result, bucky falls to his death into a deep ravine.

steve is devastated. overwhelmed with guilt, grief and rage, he vows to bring down the people responsible for his loss, even if it costs him his own life.

and um, it kind of does? cost him his own life?

victorious after his last vis-a-vis with The Antagonist™, steve still chooses to sacrifice himself to prevent the catastrophe set into motion by the aforementioned Antagonist™. he's flying a jet over the frosty expanse of the atlantic, and you know, from the outside, you could easily argue that he could try to save himself. if he really wanted to. but with bucky dead, and the people responsible for all this pain, either dead or captured, it seems like all the will to fight is gone from steve; and so he plunges the jet straight into the ocean, and himself with it.

is this the end of their story?, you might ask.

the answer is: of course not!!!! the best is yet to come, babes!!!

EDIT: here is part 2

[suekeyyyy]

-The Seven-

Serious:Somewhat single moms-Pt 1- Bolivia flage cape and a black suit .☟ _The boys x reader_

-Homelander- John x black! Fem! reader

Summary: Y/n is South America's number one. Hero is in a group called Patina, and she has been sent on a trip to North America. To meet the Seven for a National But her representative wants her to get close with Homelander.

Waning: bad language, Angst, reader being Sexualize.

Set in: it's the plot so don't come after me if I redo it.

@z3r0art

Seva Airlines is the plane that Y/n and her lower Supes know as patina. We're on to make it to North America to meet the Infamous Seven. Y/n didn't really care all that much she had her representative Steve up her ass about this opportunity.

For three months. The persistent Bitch really pushed that it would help with her look as a Hero and get her more Points.

Y/n was somewhat like Homelander, just female. She was just better at pretending to smile waving. But she hated having to smile all the time. It was exhausted. Her smiled and would always fade after the currents fell. Like she had ever smiled ones.

Now her was going to meet the men of America and his side show. She was only somewhat happy to meet Starlight. A new hero So much potential That made fire strom have a little bit more hopeful in the world.

Steve had told Y/n that Vought wanted to have a National Superhero Appreciation. Or Nsh, the plane soon landed on top of the vot building y/n slow stood up and walked out the plane with a small smile. To keep up her illusion of being happy, she could see Ms. Madelyn Stillwell and she big white women smile on her face.

" Patina. The heroes of South America welcome to Vot I'm Madelyn Stillwell." She says,"Were glad to be here." Y/n says as Madelyn walks them into the blinding. She slowly.

and fucking your Secretary kind. " This with be your freedom room. Basically, what im saying is that you can do whatever in here." She smiles she walks out.

Y/n sits down at the head of the table with a smile that makes everyone tense up. " Sit down." She says, and they all slowly sit down.

" So does everyone have something to say. Questions, concerns?" Y/n says," Why the hell are we here? I know that's what we're all thinking." BB says

-BB- Ballon boy. -Jimmy Hall - power: immoral.

" That is a good question. we are here for National super hero day." Y/n says," What the hell does that mean?" BB says," we walk around a bit, help the seven if needed, and just breathe air." Y/n says. Everyone looks at each other, and they agree on how easy it is. " Oh, and hear are your keys." Y/n throws five keys out to her team. " For what?" BB says," Your rooms." Y/n says in a soft tone. " There on the fifth floor." She smiles." Now, all of you go." Y/n says in a cold tone. They all sigh and whisper to themselves about how dumb this was. Y/n slowly turned her head to the side. " BB, what do you want?" She sees him sitting on the table." What ya thinking about, doll?" He says " How to quit." She says.

" You could just retire." He says. With a smile," You and me both know what that means. I go into some cold old room little nowhere to be tested on." He nods." You can start a family. That's what Liya did, and I still see her." He says,

" Maybe. "

•┈┈┈••✦ 🔥 ✦••┈┈┈•

Y/n leaves the room and walks over to the elevators and waits for it where she hears someone walking over to her and the elevators. She looks over to see Homelander walking over to the elevators. " shit." She whispers. Homelander walked up to the elevators, and they opened. "Excuse me." He says y/n looks back." Oh, sorry." She smiles he walks in first.

Homelander slowly looked down at y/n and her outfit. The boob window and her Bolivia flag on her back. Her black suit on her skin was tight and small, mostly around her back side. " Nice ass." He said with a smirk with a look of contempt as he looked at her.

The ends of y/n's hair are set on fire, her hair Indulgeinng in the red flames. " Thanks, I guess. " y/n was creeped out and taken a back. How could he see her ass? He looked at the fire at the end of her hair and then back at her, "No problem." He says."So. Why are you here?" He asks her.

" National super hero's Appreciation Month." She says," So you're a part of Patina?" He asked." Actually, I'm the leader of Patina." She says," Well, it's always nice to have younger heroes as leaders. " y/n chuckles. He was trying to butter her up. He turned his head back to he and then smirke. "So. You can control fire?" " Yes." She says." So. You're like the strongest superhero in South America." He asked her, and he wanted to know everything about her." You could say that." She was trying to keep dry a conversation.

Homelander thought for a second before speaking, "I'm surprised I know of the group Patina. You know most people can't name a single group from South America." He says in a sarcastic manner. As if South America was beneath him, "But I guess you didn't tell me your name?"

Y/n give him a what the fuck look trying to overlook how disrespectful that was. " My real name?" She says,"Yeah, your real name?" He said in an annoyed fashion, waiting for her answer. " y/n no last name. " She says," That's interesting. " he says Try the sound disinterested. "I'm curious. How much is Patina respected in South America?" He said, wanting to see if her pride was big like Homelander's " as much as the seven is in the States." She says.

"Oh, I see. So Patina's just as big down south as we are up here in the States. Is that what you're saying?" He said, trying to gauge y/n to see if she had a big ego" yeah." The elevator stops, and she walks out. Homelander follows y/n and catches up to her. "So. Let me guess, y/n ." He said, walking up next to her."You just happen to have the most beautiful ass in all of South America." He said, wanting to see her reaction to that.

" I thought you dropped that conversation." Y/n says, walking past Madelyn Stillwell's Office.Homelander chuckled and shook his head."Come on, y/n. Who doesn't love talking about a beautiful ass. Especially one like yours. I mean, look at that peach." He said, touching her ass over her suit, smiling while he does it.

She grabs his hand, her eyes turning eye. " Don't touch me." Y/n says her hand, burning his suit arm slightly.

"Aww. Come on, y/n, don't be like that. My hands just so happened to wander over there. Don't be so uptight." He said in a sarcastic manner, keeping his hand on her ass " Oh well, my hand wandered to your face." She slaps him.

He stood in shock as he rubbed his cheek with his free hand. He couldn't believe she had done that. But then he took a deep breath and regained his composure and took his hand off her ass. "What the hell?" He screamed at her."How dare you lay a hand on Homelander. I am the most powerful superhero in the god damn world." He yelled in a scary, intimidating tone at her." Do I really give a shit?" She thinks," Oh, I don't."

Homelander took a second to process what she told him, and then he got angry again. "I am The Homelander. You show some respect. "He yelled at her in anger. He wanted her to beg for his mercy. He wanted to scare her, but she wasn't showing fear. It was pissing Homelander off.

" Oh, stop it, you're just as broken and damaged as everyone else." Earlier that day, y/n Looked at John's File or his life story on a paper.

Homelander grew very angry as he took another step closer to y/n. He was now in her face with the heat of his breath hitting her lips. He looked down at her and took another angry breath. "I am a god compared to everyone else, and you should respect me." He yelled at her with no fear of what she would say in return. He was the most powerful being in existence, and she would not cross him.

Homelander didn't seem to notice the haft Chub he was getting. Was he fucking turned on? " Well, I guess.''god'' has a boner." She pointed out his pants.

That caught Homelander off guard, and as he looked down at his pants, there was indeed a boner starting to show through his pants. "What the..." He began to stammer, looking at y/n. Her face was still, and she didn't give any response."That's normal." He says, trying to change the subject to something less awkward.

" it shouldn't be. You shouldn't get a boner when you yell at me." She was speaking Facts.

He cleared his throat before saying, "Hey, it's common for a man to get a boner when a hot woman is standing in front of him." The words come flying out of his mouth quickly as he realizes he just said what was on his mind."You're hot." He said awkwardly.

That was out of character. " And you got that from yelling at me?" She says. "No, I mean... I just look at you, and it happens." He says with a smirk, he was enjoying talking to y/n, she was the first woman to actually talk back to him. And it made him want to keep talking to her. Something he wasn't used to, he was attracted to y/n, and he knew it.

She rolled her eyes and walked away."Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Don't go, I want to keep talking to you." He yelled after her, not wanting her to leave just yet. She just continued walking.

"Damn it." He said to himself, he was actually enjoying talking to y/n, and she had to ruin the moment for him by walking away."Well, I hope you have a nice night. And by the way. You do have a nice ass." He yelled out to y/n as she walked. "Nice and fat." He whispered to himself as he watched her leave.

A/n: I'm so happy. 😁 thank you for your support. Love you guys.😘😘

Next pt:

[techmomma]

Driving Tips

As I understand it, there's actually quite a few of you on here who either don't drive or are very new at driving, or are very scared of driving! So as someone who has been driving for 15 years, here are some tips from good ol' Steph in no particular order.

Put more space between you and the car ahead of you than you think you need. Especially on freeways/highways/motorways. I grew up with the rule of "for every ten mph, add another car space." So if I'm going 30mph, then I should have at LEAST 3 car's worth of space between me and the car in front of me. I don't know how that translates to kph but I'm sure there's something similar.

I extend this even to coming to a stop. I try to leave at least a car space even when stopping at intersections.

The reason for this, if you remember from driving school, is to be able to come to a safe stop for your vehicle. But did you know it's not just for you? It's ALSO for the people BEHIND you, who may still be up your ass. If you come to a sudden stop, they're going to ram right into your backside. The space to slow down gives them time to slow down too.

If you've never had to come to a hard stop, YOU NEED MORE SPACE THAN YOU THINK YOU DO TO COME TO A FULL STOP. YOUR CAR WILL JUST KEEP GOING IF YOU WERE GOING FAST ENOUGH.

See this bad boy? The little circular mirror?

If your side mirrors don't come with one of these, get one. They will let you check your blind spot without twisting around in your seat--meaning you're not taking your eyes off of the road ahead of you so you can see behind you! They're literally like $5 and you can get them almost everywhere from convenience stores to supermarkets to auto shops.

It also helps with parking!!

The more scared you are, the worse you are going to drive. Like yes, don't be lackadaisical, you're driving a machine that weighs several tons. But the more afraid you are, the more you're going to overreact and overcompensate when things go wrong and in a car, keeping a cool head is going to be one of your biggest strengths if something goes wrong. Panicking will make things worse. You need to take active steps to stay cool when driving.

One of the ways you can do that is trying to find things you do enjoy about driving. You're controlling a scientific marvel full of incredible math and physics at play! Find ways to turn driving into something you can enjoy and it'll get easier to keep a cool head in it, rather than focusing on the myriad of ways it can kill you.

A horse can kill you in a myriad of ways too. But so can a dedicated duck. Your car ain't special.

In the same vein, I approach cars kind of like riding horses: yes this thousand pound animal can kill me, but also if it moves wrong it will break all of its bones, so while I need to respect its power, I also need to remain calm and take charge, to keep both the horse and myself safe. Do it. Anthropomorphize your car.

Another way is learning how to take care of your car, yourself! There are countless youtube videos that can teach you how to change a tire, emergency supplies you should keep in your car, how to change the oil, etc.. Taking care of your car helps turn it from something scary to something you start to understand inside and out--and knowledge helps us be less afraid.

In the same way, take some time to sit in your car, pull out the owner's manual, and read it over. Learning all of the buttons and what-does-what also helps give you a sense of control over your car.

Wear your fucking seatbelt jesus christ the laws have been in place for 50 fucking years (in America) for a reason

Figure out the best driving setup that works for you and keeps you the most comfortable and relaxed. For some people, this means putting on some tunes. For some, it means turning them off. Adjust your chair so that you have the best view around you, of your mirrors, while not putting strain on your back.

Keep your eyes ahead but take glances at cars to either side of you. There are two kinds of driving, called "reactive" and "proactive" driving. Reactive driving means only reacting to whatever immediately comes up, proactive driving means anticipating things that could come up. So for example, I'm driving down the highway. The car to my side is driving faster, at such a rate that if they continue, they will hit the car in front of them. If there is space in front of you, that probably means they're going to try to merge into your lane! (And probably suddenly, without using heir turn signal!) I slow down in those cases, to give this manic plenty of room to merge.

This also looks like keeping an eye not just on the car ahead of you, but several cars ahead of you. If you notice red lights in the distance, that means people are slowing down or coming to a stop, and you should be preparing to do so, too!

Just let people merge, man. If you're moving forward, you lose nothing by letting people merge with you. I don't put a "limit" on the number of people who "can" merge into my lane--if you keep enough space between you and the car ahead of you, there's always enough room to merge. There's literally nothing to be gained by not letting someone merge, besides being called an asshole.

And I mean. How many times have you tried to merge and fucking nobody would let you? And then some saint of a person finally lets you in before you miss your turn and you want to kiss their feet. Just imagine how many people will call you a saint for letting them merge. Imagine how many days are made when you let people merge.

In addition, though you probably won' reap the benefits, letting people merge helps keep the flow of traffic going and prevents backups and slow-downs! You, personally, can help clear up traffic that's come to a crawl. I have watched it happen in my rearview mirror, just by letting people merge.

(Think of how many accidents you also prevent because someone isn't panicking as they try to get to merge and trying to make sudden decisions under high pressure.)

Obviously don't do it FREQUENTLY if you don't have to: but try to learn how to drive one-handed. Being able to do so (briefly) means you know what to do if an emergency comes up and you need one of your hands. (Secret: it's your palm, not your fingers, for one-handed driving.)

Look, I KNOW the temptation is fucking real. I know. I KNOW. But do not brakecheck people. It is way more dangerous for you than it is for the shithead up your ass. It doesn't even work most of the time, if they're gonna get on your ass, they're gonna get on your ass, and brakechecking them is just gonna make them even pissier about it.

I do, recommend, however, going slower. Ease back on the gas~ This will also piss them off but it will make them more likely to just get fed up and pass you. If they can't pass you then you get to drink in the exasperation on their face in your rearview mirror.

When it comes to seeing other Problem Drivers on the road, there's kind of two main schools of thought, which is to either keep them ahead of you or put them behind you. I personally like to keep Problem Drivers ahead of me, if I can help it. I'd rather be able to see a problem and be able to react to it than put it behind me and then the Problem driver slams into me from behind because I had no idea they were still there.

If you have problems with night driving, try getting some kind of anti-glare lenses. It's glare that's typically the biggest issue with night-driving, so cutting through that will make things easier, safer, and more relaxed if you have to do so by night.

If your tire is losing air somewhat slowly and you can't afford to get it replaced just yet, there's an old solution that younger people might not know: find an air pump at a gas station, and fill the tire with air, yourself! It's really not hard, you just need to find what psi the tire is supposed to be pumped to (this will be on the side of the tire). At the air pump station, most stations now will let you set the psi you need for the tire, so you can set it to idk 42 psi? And it will automatically cut off or warn you when the tire pressure hits that psi! Pchow, easy fix, and if it's deflating slowly, this will buy you a little more time. Best of all, some stations offer their air pumps for free, but even if you have to pay, I think when I filled my tire a few months ago it was like $2 for 5 minutes of unlimited air pumping, which is more than enough for all of my tires, let alone just one.

That's all I can think of for now, so if you have any questions or want any advice, please feel free to ask! I am happy to impart whatever cultural knowledge/adulting information I can to you!

[apocalypse-shuffle]

SAM WILSON | CAPTAIN AMERICA/FALCON (the mcu | tfatws | captain america: the winter soldier)

—

“Arm Day” (Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader)

| You don’t show up for your running “date” with Sam so he shows up at your place to get a different kind of exercise in.

| SFW, exercising, romantic tension(?)

| Jesus, my summary is very nearly an innuendo. (Pic Source — Captain America: Civil War [peachy-ash icon], Captain America: The Winter Soldier [iconpsds icon], The Falcon & The Winter Soldier [marina-na-na icon])

| Inspo: Instagram

| 1k+ words

It’s the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand that wakes you up, and with a groan you lift your head to squint at it.

‘Sam Wilson’ flashes across your screen and you in no way can suppress the eye roll that elicits.

He was your gym buddy more often than not, but this was getting ridiculous.

When y’all ran laps together he’d slow down for you so you could keep one another company. When you were on the treadmill he’d be running in the one right beside you and hold out his arm if you stumbled so you wouldn’t go flying, emergency stopping the machine for you. You would spot each other, go out to eat afterwards, even make meal plans together. Sam was your number one.

He was also more of a pain in your ass than your actual personal trainers had ever been in the past.

You grope around for the phone, lifting it up to your ear once your clumsy fingers stumble across it.

“Yeah?”

Your grunt is met with an honest to god laugh. At this early in the morning?

“Oh my god,” you whine. “Sam, please, what do you want?”

A scoff this time.

“Y/N, it’s Saturday. Get your ass up, we got places to be.”

Still laying on your stomach you flip your head over to press the other side of your face into your pillow and switch your phone to the other ear accordingly, eyes slipping back closed.

“We? I told you I’m not leaving my house today.”

A beat of silence and then: “Okay…”

“Awesome. Have fun sweating by-”

“I’ll see you in five.”

You choke on your spit, words coming out in a whoosh and eyes snapping open.

“Fuck no! Sam!”

The sound of the dial tone reaches your ears and you curse, shooting out of bed, sleep no longer an option.

You drop your phone on your sheets and then scramble around for some shorts. If you could get to Sam before he got all the way to your apartment maybe you’d be able to shove his overactive ass back in his car.

In a frenzy you stuff your phone in your pocket and start towards the front door scratching at your head when it hits you. You’re scratching at your bare head.

“Shit- where in the world…?”

You whip around and start back towards your bedroom to look for where your head wrap had hidden itself during the night. You weren’t going all the way downstairs looking a mess.

Anywhere on your bed was a no show. It wasn’t hanging off your lamp like you’d found it once (who knows how it ended up there in the first place), and it wasn’t under your bed.

You're just about to throw caution to the wind and run out as you are regardless when two things happen at once. You find your wrap sunken into your shoes at the end of your bed and someone knocks at your door.

“Oh come the fuck on.” You grit your teeth, snatch up and firmly situate your traitorous wrap, then stomp over to jerk open the door.

“No.”

In front of you, dressed in a gray pair of sweats, Sam frowns lightly, thick brows raising.

“You made a promise,” he hedges.

You flip off said thick - accusatory - eyebrows.

“Screw my promise. I'm going to stay home and you’re going to leave. Goodbye.”

The door closes right in his face. He doesn’t take the chance not to let it, only to step back so he doesn’t break his nose. You appreciate that.

“Now hold on-! Aw come on, Y/n!” There’s muffled shuffling behind the door, him adjusting his gym bag more than likely, before he knocks again.

While you ignore him to start taking stuff out the freezer for a smoothie - you were already up, you might as well make it worth your while - he knocks three more times.

It’s when your phone starts buzzing on the countertop that you cave, stomping back over to the door and cracking it open just enough for him to see the glower on your face.

“What part of ‘Bye’ isn’t clicking? I’m tired, my muscles ache in places I didn’t even know were possible, and if I have to meal prep anymore I’m going to scream.”

He peeks through the sliver.

“Just one little circuit, alright? I brought everything with me so you won’t have to leave… .” His eyes have taken on a particular brightness that makes you just a little weak in the knees. “I’ll even cook for you after.”

Goddamnit. Your face smooths out from the glare you were rocking and Sam’s lights up.

“See? That sounds nice, now, doesn’t it?”

“Fine. A full meal, not no damn sandwich, and you make my smoothie before we start.”

“Deal. Thought you were gonna break my heart for a minute there, I'm really glad we pulled through though.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble and drag him and all his crap in.

_ _ _

“If you’re still aching after two days then we probably have to adjust your routine,” he curls upward and the muscles in his arms flex, stretching the sleeve of his maroon shirt to its limit. “I’ll take a pen and paper to it and we’ll figure it out, that fine by you Queen of Sheba?”

You scoff while going down on your push-ups.

“Yeah, it’s fine Sam,” you make sure to catch his eye as you straighten your arms to come up, “thanks.”

He smiles, switching to do curls with his left arm.

You go down, but end up watching unblinking for a few seconds as the muscles on his bicep become well defined peaks.

Hn.

Sam glances up and you rapidly realize that you’ve been laying on the ground and staring creepily at him for the better part of a minute.

Roughly, you clear your throat; Sam smirks and seems to go deliberately slow on his next curl. The way you gulp hurts a little.

“See something you like?”

Scowling, you roll your eyes and pick back up where you left off on your push-ups. You’re focusing intently on the tile underneath your palms when you answer him.

“No,” you snap to the floor.

Everything about Sam’s laugh says he doesn’t believe you worth a damn.

You don’t particularly care what he thinks though; something that you reiterate over and over in your head as you go on to the next workout.

Where the fuck Sam’s forward ass got off hiking a portable pull-up bar up to your apartment you did not know, but here the thing is, sitting nice and pretty like it belonged to be an absolute eyesore in the middle of your living room.

You sigh and decidedly don’t stare at him too hard as he eases down to the floor to take your previous place and start his own round of push-ups, and probably a few floor presses or something considering he brings the dumbbells down with him.

On your end starting your pull-ups starts off relatively easy. They’ve never been your favorite - and you’re certain they never will be - but at least you could do them now since you started training with Sam almost a year ago now.

Sam was neat like that. Uplifting without slipping into condescension, and being one of the few people who could push you so thoroughly out of your comfort zone.

Certainly the only person you allowed to upheave your more flexible boundaries with so little push back.

Breath huffing out of you you force yourself to rest before starting on your next set, eyes running over your workout partner’s back and the way the muscles there are also incredibly defined as he engages them.

It was a little unfair honestly. Who gave Sam Wilson the right to look so perfect? With a grunt you start working out again.

Eventually you begin waning, you can feel it in the way your arms instantly start to shake as you try to pull your body weight up for your next set, and the excess heat building in your fingers. How even as you attempt to swing your legs to get more momentum to do the pull-up you just barely manage to get one in before your arms give out, straightening back, and you’re left just hanging there.

“Goddamn,” you curse. Today really was just not your day.

Distantly you note the soft thud of weights being set down at your left but you're so focused that you don’t notice Sam move until he’s already in front of you.

He jumps up and you make a startled noise as you come face to face before he does a pull-up as easy as can be. Your lips purse.

He grins, “I got you, come on. One more rep.”

You sigh but he’s looking right into your eyes with that soft grin on his face - and you’re a sucker - so you cave in less than five seconds. Also, you don’t want to keep hanging any longer than necessary.

“I might not have one more in me, period, but I’ll try,” you murmur as you look away. You prep your muscles to move, assuming the right position, when Sam shaking his head in your peripheral catches your attention.

“Didn’t I just say I had you?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s swinging just that much closer on one arm - fucking show off - and grabbing enough of your thigh to nudge you forward so he can get his arm around your upper leg and then pull you in.

“You’re such a show off, you know that?”

You still follow his line of reasoning, though; pulling up enough that you can get both of your legs around his waist.

Sam just laughs, teeth glinting.

“I’m just happy to help.”

“Ha,” you mock, but when he pulls up you do so with him. Your arms bend, but not with nearly as much strain as before with him taking the majority of your weight, and the pressure on your core significantly lessens.

You won’t admit to having to bite back a smile at the feel of him tucked against you.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah,” you pant out, legs tightening absentmindedly around his waist. Sam grunts lowly in the back of his throat. “You in the habit of catching people like this?”

The look that briefly flashes across his face is far more severe than you think your question merits, and when Sam answers he makes sure to look you in the eye.

“I try to be.”

Then the moment’s broken, he’s pulling you both back up into your final exercise of the day and you’re left wondering where the hell Sam Wilson got off making you love him like this.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! If there’s any typos I’ll catch them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

I need y'all to be so normal about this but I'm writing a GoYu Bakery AU (first two chapters are up on AO3) and I'm just. SO proud of how I wrote Gojo's dramatic gay ass realizing he has a crush on a college kid in this scene in chp3.

~

The realization was slow. It actually hit him just as he was midway through saying hello to Megumi as he returned to the office. Gojo froze, words dying in his throat, as his brain began to frantically analyze his own behavior over the past six months. He’d been so sure that he was only going to the cafe for the food, and for the way no one fawned over him, that he’d completely missed the fact that he was only happy after a visit if he got to speak to Yuji.

He had not been going for the food. He’d been going for the baker.

Gojo let out a string of vicious cursing, calling himself a dozen kinds of idiot, and just barely caught himself in time to set the slice of lemon meringue pie he’d brought for Megumi down gently, so as not to ruin it, instead of throwing it at his poor assistant.

“Megumi,” Gojo said in ominous tones, “I am the fucking stupidest man on the planet.”

“Yes, I knew that,” Megumi agreed. “What did you do this time?”

Gojo began to pace the waiting room, running his hands through his hair. “Okay. So. You know how I’m shit at explaining what I want from other people in regards to things like relationships and sex?”

“Yes. Tanaka still wants you back.”

“Tanaka can wait. Well, it appears I am also shit at explaining to myself what I want. Because I thought I just really liked the food at Lucky Pond, and the atmosphere, and how nobody treats me differently there. It’s a novelty. Nothing more. Except.” He spun on his toes sharply, feeling like a prophet of doom, realizing that he had well and truly fucked up. “It’s not just that the food’s exquisite and the atmosphere’s comfortable. It’s the fact that fucking Itadori Yuji works there.”

Megumi blinked mildly. Then his eyes widened in shock, and he blurted, “He’s over a decade younger than you!”

“Exactly!” Gojo exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s a baby, barely nineteen! But he’s adorable and sweet and talented and kind and just stupid enough to be endearing but still intuitive enough to be fun to talk to and I want to be the kind of man worthy of his attention so bad that it’s pathetic!” He collapsed in a chair, flinging his arm over his eyes. “Megumi. As your mentor, I beg of you to kill me, throw my corpse in the ocean, and make everyone think I retired to Malaysia.”

“Absolutely not. Fake your death like a normal person.” Megumi shoved the pie aside and started typing aggressively on his computer. “I’m emailing Nanami. He can take over all business with Lucky Pond while you get over Itadori. Fucking hell… at least you realized this before he fell in love with you.”

“He’d never,” Gojo said gloomily. “I overheard him talking to Jupei last week about his celebrity crushes—he likes women. Tall, curvy women with butts and boobs. Not dudes with no meat on their bones.”

“Sensei, are you… are you actually moping?” Megumi demanded incredulously. “Because a guy ten years younger than you is straight and into curvy women?!”

“Oh, god.” Gojo covered his face with his hands. “I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. I’ll fake my death. Nanami can run the business himself, it’s fine. I’ll run away to America and change my name. Should I dye my hair brown or red?”

“Neither. Blond is pretty common in America, right? Blond and blue eyes? You’ll fit right in with the rest of them, annoying as you are.”

"Fuck you. Blond it is."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 32

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Angst AN: Can you believe it's almost done? Book two will come later this year. :)

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Tom was just walking in the door when his phone rang in his pocket. It had been a nerve-wracking journey back to his flat. Back home. In this moment, it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold as worry fueled him. 

“Well?” Tom didn’t waste time with pleasantries. 

“She’s okay. Everyone is okay. I just left the apartment.” Ashley likewise skipped the pleasantries. 

“Okay?” Tom fell hard against the wall as he took what felt like his first breath in the last half an hour. 

“She’s been crying and said it was a rough night.” Ashley hesitated before continuing. “She was talking like you were not coming back. Is- Did something happen?” 

“No, not that I- Would she be one to read tabloids?” 

“About you? Maybe. Is there something in one that would make her think you’re not in this weird ass bullshit marriage with her anymore? Did you do something?” 

“I did nothing wrong.” Tom snapped, cringing back as soon as he realized he was taking his stress out on someone who’s been nothing but fairly kind to him. With great effort, he forced himself to take a deep, slow breath before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for snapping. Gossip rags can take a small assumption and a wish and make it into something mad. I- I need to go.”

Hanging up, he dialed Luke as he made his way to his laptop. 

“This is Luke.” 

“I need you to clear the week.” Tom didn’t spare any pleasantries for his long-time friend, either. He had his phone pinched between his shoulder and ear as he opened his laptop and hit the power button.

“What’s wrong?” Luke was in friend mode, though Tom could hear him working a keyboard, typing away. 

“I’m not sure. Something with Mia. It’s probably nothing. Fuck, I hope it’s nothing.” While his computer powered on, he opened his suitcase and tossed it on his bed. “She left a voicemail crying and isn’t answering now. I don’t-”

“You can’t just run to America every time your wife has a cry over missing you.” Luke was trying to walk the line between sanity, supporting his friend and doing his job. “You’re going to be away for filming. You’re going to have commitments.” 

“I’m aware. We’ll get there. I just- I think something is wrong.”

“What did she say when you called her back?”

Tom tossed handfuls of clothes into the suitcase. “She didn’t answer. Right to bloody voicemail. Her sister checked on her, though.”

“Her sister checked on her. She is clearly okay, but you’re still going to drop everything and run to her?” There was a hint of a smile in Luke’s voice. As a professional, this was not something he could support. But as a friend and a bit of a romantic himself, it was hard to stay against it. That was what Tom was counting on. 

“I’ll take care of it. When are you taking off?” 

“I haven’t booked a flight yet.” Tom was standing at his laptop. “Figuring that out now.” 

“Keep me updated.” 

~~~~~<3

It was a few hours before Tom could get on a flight, but he had found one that left that evening. Pacing through the airport, Tom passed his time on the phone with his mother between attempts to call Mia again and again. There was only so much his mother could do to keep him grounded while anxiety ate at him.

He had snagged a direct flight to Las Vegas, a bloody miracle he couldn’t be more thankful for. There wasn’t anything he could do to calm his nerves while he was stuck waiting. His neg bounced, and he fidgeted as he attempted to review scripts, email apologies for rescheduled meetings, and beg the universe to allow the plane to fly faster somehow. 

One eleven hour flight later, Tom’s feet were on the ground in Nevada in an airport he was becoming more accustomed to than he ever expected. Anxiety had his stomach rolling through the whole flight, rejecting the concept of food. Sleep didn’t come in anything more than fleeting moments when he had tried. All he could do was wait and waiting felt like it was slowly killing him. 

Memories played in his mind, regardless of if he wanted to think of them. There were fragments of what he could almost remember. There was a white dress that he was sure he could only remember because he saw it the morning after, ripped and discarded on the ground. 

He remembered, or thought he did, the way her soft skin felt against his and the way they smiled at eachother through a lense of alcohol. He had tried again and again to remember the night they got married, but it wouldn’t come, dancing just out of reach of his mind. 

It was just over two months since the wedding he couldn’t remember and he was more terrified now than at any point in the previous two months. It felt like the entire world was crashing down around him. 

Something told him it was over. Everything was over, slipping through his fingers like the memories he couldn’t grasp. They had made it two months out of the twelve he had asked for and it was crashing down around him. What would be left when the dust settled?

Would there be a relationship left? Would there be anything left at all? 

Two months. They had made it two months into what he had hoped would last for the rest of his life. It wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He needed more. 

In these two months, he had fallen in love with Mia and he was kicking himself for not telling her that in no uncertain terms. That’s all he had left to hope for, that he would have time to tell her. 

~~~~~<3

Mia sat at the counter with her shattered phone in her hands. She needed to get it replaced. If she smacked it just right, it would try to power on and pings of missed phone calls or notifications would sound, but as soon as she jostled it again, it would turn off. 

The screen was in ruins, too. Even if she could get it to power on, she couldn’t make or send calls. 

Sally was out with Ashley for the day, a gift from her sister allowing Mia to wallow in her own poor decisions. Mia had taken the day off, using the office phone to call in. She told them she was sick, and that was close enough to the truth for her. 

She was lovesick. Heartsick. Heartbroken. 

She just couldn’t bring herself to go in.

Had Tom called her? What would he have said? Could she bring herself to believe him? Would she? 

~~~~~<3

Tom took the first taxi he could catch. He didn’t care how much it cost or any of the specifics. Without ceremony, he shoved his suitcase in the trunk and folded into the back seat, giving his Nevada address. 

His address. God, he hoped it was still his address. 

While the driver made his way through traffic, Tom’s knee bounced rapidly in the back seat. He was running on nothing but anxiety, caffeine and a few fleeting seconds of sleep. 

He tried Mia’s phone again. It rang for a second before going to voicemail. It was progress; he guessed. She had her phone on, but she didn’t answer. 

What had happened? What had he done? The only thing he could think of was the tabloids. That was the only thing that seamed to make any sense. If he could have just talked to her, if she could have heard the radio interview- snippets of it were being passed around online already, dashing any speculation about the meaning of his missing ring in the minds of most. 

But not all. It would never be all. Of that, he could be sure. But that was the price of his career. 

As the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her building, their building, Tom unbuckled and was handing a few twenty-dollar bills to the driver before they had even really stopped, knowing he was overpaying and not stopping to give a fuck by how much. 

As Tom climbed out, he instructed the man to keep the change as the trunk popped open. The wheels of his suitcase slammed against his shin as he pulled it from the vehicle carelessly. Swearing, he rubbed the pain away as he slammed the truck closed. 

Tom pulled the suitcase behind him toward the building door. Punching in the code, he grabbed it by the side handle and carried lifted it from the ground. There was a wet splotch on the corner of the bag that showed something spilled during the flight. 

Hopefully, it was something that leaked from another bag onto his. If it was the shampoo he had absently thrown in while he was packing in a panic, he would deal with that later.

He realized while pacing the airport that he didn’t actually need to pack a suitcase, but if he was honest, he didn’t think it would have made it any difference if he had realized it before. The only earlier flights he could have taken would have had stops and layovers, getting him moving faster but arriving later. This was the soonest he would have been able to arrive, no matter. 

Tom pressed the call button for the elevator and waited. Not even thirty seconds later, he pressed the button again. And again. And again. 

This was taking too long. Objectively, he knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t stomach just standing there. Anxiety made it feel like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Picking his bag up again, he opened the door to the stairwell and began running. Running made him feel better, ever so slightly. It gave him a way to expel his anxiety and accomplish something other than waiting. His feet pounded each concrete step and his breath quickly became pants as the first floor gave way to the second. 

Panic had a nasty way of taking over when you were not looking. Tom’s running became clumsy and frantic as the second floor gave way to the third. Nearly tripping at one point, he scraped his shin against the sharp edge of the step. It stung and he wouldn’t be surprised to find it bleeding if he had cared to stop and check. 

That didn’t slow him down, though. Tom burst through the stairwell door with all the energy of a storm. Or the energy of a panicked rat running from a looming cat. Either fit accurately enough, though one matched the look on his face far better than the other. 

Thankfully, no one was in front of the door, let alone in the hallway. Tom barreled down the hall, his bag slamming against the back of his calfs more than once. He all but collapsed in front of the apartment door, their door. Please still be their door and not just her door. 

His fingers shook as he put in the code as fast as he could. A red light flashed, and the door did not open. Again, he put in the code in a rush and got a red light. He had to have had it right. He must have been just moving too fast, hitting the wrong keys. She didn’t change the code. Please, don’t have changed the code. 

He knocked on the door and tried again. He could hardly control his hands as he hit the keys. It had been years since he had an adrenaline dump like this. 

He wanted to scream and rage at the door as his knocking turned into slapping the door with his open palm. 

“Mia!” He called, finally finding his voice. “Mia!” 

~~~~~<3

Mia was terrified when someone had tried to unlock her door. She wasn’t in the mental space for whatever was going on. Dark circles rested under her red-rimmed eyes. 

Knocking started, and she grabbed the only weapon she could think of in the moment, a frying pan. In hindsight, a knife would have been better, but we can’t all make good decisions under stress. 

Whoever was on the other side tried the lock again and failed to enter the correct code. She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t have a way to call for the police with her phone down. 

Whatever was going to happen, she was beyond thankful Ashley had taken Sally for the night. Sally would be safe. 

Knocking started again, quickly devolving into frantic pounding as she crept closer to the door. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite, @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom, @buttercupcookies-blog, @violethaze, @kats72, @soulpiercing, @evedia, @princess-ofthe-pages, @tom-hlover

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone, thank you so much to @thighzp for the tag that made me get off my ass and post a snippet. It's been a big day here in America, writing felt nice, and so if anyone needs a cheer up, I'm including a huge snippet of Sugar Baby Alex. So big, and so nsfw, that it's under a cut. Everyone take care of yourselves, sending so much love to everyone <3

-----

“Are you apologizing for sexualizing me? When I’m laying here with my dick out literally begging you to fuck me? Also, calm down you just used the word ‘immaculate’. You sound like you’re critiquing art, are you like… actually horny?” the brunette asked, his face scrunched up as if confused. But he wasn’t confused, Alex was nervous, dreadfully anxious under the gaze of this man he wanted so badly. The man who would soon be the first man he’d done more than give a quick blowjob; but that wasn’t the part that concerned him. It wasn’t that Henry was a man, it was that he was Henry; and for some reason that Alex couldn’t quite place yet, he felt a desperate need to impress Henry. “Must I be crass?” the blond huffed, averting his eyes for a moment, a slight flush to his cheeks. “Of course, I’m horny,” his voice was low, like maybe he was embarrassed by that fact, or Alex’s question. “I will have you know that when I was your age, I had quite the reputation around Oxford.” “Oh, did you?” Alex teased, sitting up on one elbow so that his face was closer to the other man, “Well, why don’t you give me a lil taste of Henry the Oxford slut?” “You’re a demon.” “Oh baby, keep talking dirty to me.” Any retort that might have come after that was cut short as Henry’s hand grabbed Alex’s jaw and he was pulled into a stomach dropping kiss. If he’d thought the kitchen makeout session had been intense, Alex was currently being proved that he had no idea what Henry was capable of. No one had ever kissed him like this, like they were drinking the air out of his lungs. He felt Henry’s tongue slip into his mouth as he felt the blond’s palm run down his stomach. Experienced fingers wrapped around Alex’s shaft, stroking slowly and making a shudder rock through his body. It was impossible to stop the moan bubbling out of him, the one that made Henry lick into his mouth. Their kiss was broken moments later, only so that Henry could speak. “You’ve got such a nice cock, darling, I’ve been dying to get it in my mouth since the first time I saw you. You’re going to be a good boy for me and let me take it down my throat, aren’t you?” Breathless and near helpless, all Alex could do was nod eagerly. “No, I need better than that,” the blond’s thumb ran over Alex’s bottom lip as he spoke, locking their eyes together, “I need enthusiastic consent from you before we go on with this. I need to know you want it. Tell me what you want Alex, do you want me to swallow every inch of this gorgeous cock?” he punctuated that question with a flick of his wrist that made the brunette see stars for a moment. “Do you want me to spread you open? Press you into the mattress and take you apart slowly? Do you want my teeth on your neck while you feel your body stretching to take my cock? Do you want to be split open and feel me in your stomach, fucking you slow and deep, so that every time you make one of those pretty moans you feel me throb inside of you? Is that what you want, Alexander?” “Yes,” Alex tried to inhale but his breathing trembled, catching in his throat, “Yes, please Henry, I want you so bad. You’re… so fucking good at that. And it’s just a handjob, fuck. I can’t wait to see what you can do. I need it so bad, please, take me apart,” he panted, leaning in to chase Henry’s lips, only to be stopped by the hand on his jaw holding him in place.

I know it's late, but I'm throwing in some tags for anyone who might want to join in. I know being tagged inspired me. But of course no pressure as always lovelies.

@taste-thewaste @onthewaytosomewhere @henrysfox

@mikibwrites @eusuntgratie

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics

@henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones

@henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese @redlipstickandglitter

@thesleepyskipper @tailsbeth-writes

+ literally anyone else I'm tired and forgot.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 30

MASTAPOST

huge thanks to brekitten again for betaing uwu

Despite Damian complaining of the smell, Danny personally thought his new outfit was very comfortable, at least compared to the alternatives. At some points their little nature walk along the road brought them close to the river they’d swum up to get to the locks. They could’ve easily jumped in if they wanted, but the presence of GiW boats in a narrow passage made it a very unappetising option.

They also didn’t know what his human form looked like, but they did know about siren human forms in general. Once they realised the canal itself was empty, they would very likely transition into hunting him on land. Then there would be problems.

Danny picked up the pace. Jogging was easy when you could ice over your overheating muscles from the inside, a technique that had fascinated and disgusted his friends. To their right, the remains of the canal shipyards, and to their left, a large hill covered in trees and foliage overlooked the water. Wind rustled through the leaves and blew through his clothes. Ah, to be clothed at last. What a luxury.

As they walked, the boys made idle commentary on the scenery, including sardonic comments at the presence of a golf club on the hill.

“I should hope they do not punt any balls into the water.”

“I dunno. Could be a fun challenge. Imagine doing a hole in one across the canal!”

The shade was nice too. Even the air felt cooler underneath the trees. As they rounded the corner of the mountain, their next issue made itself known.

A car drove past them, only to stop and slow down at a check point manned by, who else, the GiW. At some point Danny was seriously questioning the Panamanian government. If he were in charge, he would definitely not let the US government just run roughshod over his country’s infrastructure. That being said, it probably wasn’t the first time the government fucked things up in South America, as Sam’s many rants had led him to learning.

Danny ran his finger along Damian’s forearm, earning a hiss from the kid. He slathered the mucus over his ear, turning it into its siren form.

“Shush. Lemme listen.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. “Sorry ma’am. We’re with the US government. We’ll need to inspect your car for any siren contraband or smuggling. We’ll also have to test you for mind control.”

With that, another voice seemed to repeat the command in very apologetic Spanish. It seemed their translator was about as unhappy with the arrangement as the poor civilian.

“Tt. Amateurs.” Damian muttered.

Then came a very rapid series of what he believed was swearing from the driver, an older woman. Oh. He didn’t need his ears to notice the sandals smacking into the agents. Danny couldn’t help but laugh a little.

It wasn’t like the blockade would do anything! There was a whole-ass hill right beside him.

“How were these people ever a threat to us?” Damian muttered. He hissed at a stray branch jabbing into his ribs, batting it away.

“Probably all the money the government throws at them to buy weapons. From my parents.” Yeah it kinda said a lot that the only reason they were any issue at all were because of his parents.

Damian stiffened. If Danny weren’t holding him so close, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

Danny hiked into the forested hill. Great thing about clothes, Damian, is that they protect your very soft human skin from being sliced up by thorns and branches and other sharp shrubbery. “It’ll be fine. I’ve beaten these clowns a dozen times before.”

 “With allies, and a healthy body. And in the water. Be wary.”

Danny grinned. “But I still have my powers!”

“Tut. Be wary. Triumphant pride precipitates a dizzying fall.”

“Hah! How many dictionaries did you consume to be able to say that?”

“Five. And I do not consume books, I read them, unlike you and your sullen species.”

“I am literally human right now. And I read plenty of books.” Comic books, in fact. But that addendum didn’t stop the (invisible) smirk on his face. Comics books are literature too! Even if the canon keeps getting ruined every few years.

Damian began another retort, only for the forest to fill with alarm blares. The sounds overlapped and pounded in Danny’s ears. “What happened!?”

He was in human form, they couldn’t detect-  Wait. He slapped himself in the face. It was Damian. They’d detected Damian’s signature. Fuck.

“The forest covered up their smell. Dangit. The one time they weren’t wildly incompetent.”

His head snapped to the side, then he turned around. Nobody yet. Damian growled. “We need to get moving.”

“You can say that again.”

Danny wove through the branches amidst rising shouts, and alarms that continued to sound. He caught a glint on the side of a tree. One ice spear was all it took to take out a sensor. More still screamed.

“Behind you!”

Danny dove to the floor. A shot whizzed past his head. His body creased leaves and pressed the dirt.

“There’s the specimen! Take it down!”

Several more guns whined. Danny rolled to the side. He got up in seconds. The dirt exploded behind him. Three more shots fired into a tree, causing it to creak and groan.

Damian squeezed his arm. “Throw me,” he whispered.

Danny’s face went slack. “What?!”

“There are only two of them. They do not know my identity, and they have weapons.”

Yeah them having weapons was a very good reason not to throw you at the racist government agents, Damian! “You’re crazy.”

“The Atlanteans underestimated me similarly. Now hurry!”

Another two agents flanked them on the other side. Despite his reservations, Danny was forced to admit the kid had a point. “Fine, but be careful!”

Danny stepped back. He threw his arms over his shoulders, Damian’s waist held tightly. With all his strength, he hurled him like the screaming ball of fury and spite that he was. The boy flashed into visibility. The agents behind him screamed girlishly, a fact that he wished he could have recorded.

Instead he squared his shoulders at the two in front of him. It was G from earlier and another guy. Hello misplaced aggression. The goons cried out, preparing to fire on Damian. While the kid was still on top of their friends’ faces!? Well, friendly fire never stopped them. Danny flicked two beams. One froze the trigger on G’s gun solid, scoring half his hand as a bonus. The other got his friend’s gun muzzle. The agent pulled the trigger anyway, and was rewarded by scalding hot metal shards to the face for his troubles.

Danny’s eyes glowed steely black and blue. He fired off another salvo. His attacks bound their wrists and feet to the ground. At the same time, his nose tickled with a coppery odour. The screams of the men behind him reduced to pained sobbing.

“I am returning,” Damian declared. Danny had about half a second between that warning and the kid slamming onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck again. The extra weight almost knocked him off his feet.

“What the heck are you carrying?!”

The skin around his ears shivered. A gun charged right over his shoulder. Damian nailed a reinforcing agent in the shoulder. “A new acquisition. Now move!”

Only Damian. Only Damian.

So the stealthy approach wasn’t working out amazingly. By the time Danny had cleared the forest, and lost his pursuers, there were about a dozen men lying on the dirt in various states of pain. Danny jogged past the now-unmanned barrier, wondering if there was really any point to sneaking around.

Damian panted over his shoulder. They needed to stop for another water break. His friend wouldn’t last long without one. And he was feeling the fatigue of keeping his powers up already. He’d need another snack soon.

“We cannot afford another confrontation. It was lucky we had the advantage in terrain, and they squandered their numbers by walking in one by one. The next fight may not be as fortunate.”

It was an apt time to say that, seeing as their presence had definitely not gone unnoticed.

A large white truck barreled through the road, giving Danny an honest to god heart attack. He dashed behind an electric post without thinking. Luckily it hadn’t noticed him, but the road ahead reeked of further agents. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were checkpoints along every road and intersection from here to the beach.

“Like seriously. There’s no way Panamanian government could be happy with this. I’m not going crazy, right?”

“This will likely be an international incident, especially if my plan is to go through.”

Danny suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. “What plan?”

“It is simply the most logical way to proceed. As I said, we do not have the resources to fight many more battles. At some point, we will be encircled, and either be captured or severely injured.”

“So what’s your plan, then?”

Damian laughed. It was not the joyful, innocent laughter of a kid his size, but rather a cackle fitting a demon, or some sadist coming up with creative ways to inflict pain on his victims. Danny got very, very worried.

“Wrench!” Dad called out. Jazz pulled one out of the toolbox and handed it over.

“Nope, wrong tool. I need the, uhh the thingamajig.” Without a beat lost, Jazz passed some fiendish contraption meant for measuring hydroplasm levels, name still pending.

“Thanks Jazziepants.”

For a man who’d been insistent on keeping her in bed or out of any hard work, and whom had been specifically instructed to do so regardless, her father’s willpower was very weak when subjected to Jazz’s arguments. That was what led her to sitting in the engine room with her father, watching him put the hydroplasm back into working levels. She felt a little bad about making her dad spend so much time, but what guilt she felt would have been outweighed a thousand-fold by the pain of seeing her brother in their parents’ grasps.

Now she needed to know the direction of his heart.

“Dad, are you ok?”

He shrugged. “I’m ok as ever, Jazzie.”

“You’ve been worrying.”

Her father yanked out a faulty wire. “What kinda dad wouldn’t be? When I was a kid, my grandpa Fenton told me one day, I’d be the man of my own house. I’d protect my wife and my kids from those gosh darn delinquents of the deep. Of course, I ended up finding a lovely wife who’d protect me just as much as I her, but,” He swallowed.

“It’s ok. I’m here for you, Dad. Is it something to do with the interrogation?”

“Jazzie, look, I don’t want you to worry.”

“But it’s bothering you, right?”

Her dad’s boots arced inwards, like he’d clenched his toes. “Our only lead was Phantom. That’s the whole point of this trip. But we got him, and he wouldn’t spill. And I didn’t know what to do.”

“Were you hurt?”

“No. Nobody got hurt. But your mother… I’m sorry, it’s not something you should be hearing.”

Her father’s voice went uncharacteristically serious. No! She didn’t need protecting. She needed information.

“Dad, you and mom have been dreaming of capturing a siren for years.”

Her father’s body went still for a moment. He quietly screwed in a bolt. “I know. It was nothing like I’d ever expected.”

“In a good way?”

“I thought he was gonna fight. Or throw snark at us like the fish felon he is. It was what our research told us what would happen. But it didn’t.”

She said nothing, her silence prompting her father to continue.

“Jazzie, he… cried. And suddenly I realised that Phantom looked like a kid. Like Danny’s age.”

“That young?” Jazz said with fake surprise. “Do you think he still could’ve done it?”

“I don’t know. But he must be involved, somehow. In any case, we’ll still have to pursue him.”

Jazz leaned in closer. Her father’s goggles were off, which gave her an unblocked view of his eyes. Just like her mother, they faltered with hidden speculation with doubt. The relief made her cry, almost. “There’s no guarantee, Dad,” she whispered.

Her father sat up from the creep. He stretched his arms out, and pulled her into an embrace. “I promise we’ll figure something out. Your brother’s got the might of the Fentons in him.”

‘Specimen Phantom is in disguise. Be on high alert. Nobody is above suspicion.’ Agent H hummed. That damned fish freak. Crawled its way out of the water the moment trouble hit. Now everyone was mobilising. Agent H shut off the radio, having heard enough.

Frankly, he’d had enough of this damned country and the heat. He’d been got by at least three mosquitoes already, and this brief respite in the truck was all he’d get until another six hours spent underneath the tropical sun, looking for a damn slippery siren.

He hoped Phantom would turn into fried fish before he did. Goddammit.

That was not to mention the freaking local police, who’d been harassing them all day about their tasks. Ignorant locals. How could they not notice the threat lurking right under their noses? Without the help of his organisation, the Canal would’ve been wrecked, then who’d have the final laugh? Definitely not Panama.

“Be on high alert, H.” Agent I said. “Specimen Phantom and its accomplice just took out squad A in the trees.”

H turned to her. “And why aren’t we assisting them?”

“Squad B’s taken care of it. We need to cut of the specimen’s escape, before it reaches the open ocean.”

H scoffed. “We have enough manpower, I. These sirens are smart enough to get around us. We need to hunt the specimen actively.”

“And you need to follow orders, Agent H. The local government’s only barely tolerating our presence as is. One wrong move and there will be hell to pay, do you understand?”

Agent H grumbled.

“Do you understand, Agent H?” Agent I ground out.

“Yes, ma’am. I-”

Agent H was unable to finish his sentence. He slammed the brakes. He and Agent I jerked forward in their seatbelts as the truck screeched to a halt in front of a gruesome sight. In the middle of the road, two wooden stakes were erected. Blood stained the road at the base of them. Strung up to the stakes were two familiar uniforms.

“Agent G! Agent F!” He cried out. Agent H tore off his seatbelt. He snatched his hydro gun and rushed out. His blood ran cold. How dare that- that- that monster!?

“Agent H! Get back here!” His superior ordered. He ignored her. He needed to-

Agent H was right in front of the wooden stakes when he realised his error. What looked like G’s soft brown skin and F’s paler tan from afar became patchy, holed. It was no human, but a kind of mocking imitation made from dried reeds and branches.

That meant- Shit.

Agent H had no time to react. Brilliant blue blasted him across the road. He struggled, cursed, tried to reach his communicator, but his efforts were for naught. The ice bound his wrists together like concrete. In the corner of his eye, he saw Agent I put up just a few more seconds of fight, before a barrage of hydro beams took her down too. That was their weapons!

Shame burned his skin hotter than the tropical sun. The dirty, evil sirens opened the door to the truck, invisibly. He could only watch helpless as a trapped rat as the truck kicked into full gear.

[mdhwrites]

My Biggest Problem With TOH Fight Scenes

So first I just want to say that for as much as people laud TOH's animations... Its fights aren't good. I'm not saying they're poorly animated but as fights, they're not interesting. There's rarely much in the way of back and forth, the choreography is just okay, it usually is really floaty and slow, in part due to how TOH does its bigger budget animation. Some of the ones counted as fight scenes really shouldn't as Grom would be the best fight scene of the series... But it's not. It's really just a small dance routine without the opponent involved and then a super move and that's not a fight. It's much closer to a curbstomp if anything, especially with how powerless the leads are before then.

But all of those explain why TOH's fights are kind of lackluster and how that fuels a general feeling that TOH just isn't a very good adventure series which is kind of rough for an adventure/comedy series. No, my biggest issue, and part of why Covention is easily the best fight in the series to me (Eclipse Lake is second and the rest are... There at best) is a lack of personality to these fights. A lack of a personal touch that should make them more memorable. Feel like who is fighting matters beyond skill set, especially in a show with magic.

But what do I mean by personality? After all, in a fight your goal is to beat the opponent. Where is the room for personality? If you're asking that then WOW where have you been to have missed the Superhero boom of the last decade? Then again, plenty of those movies fuck this up too. It's effectively how you make sure Spider-Man punching someone feels different from Captain America punching someone. Through body language, how they treat the fight, the creative ways they get the opening to land their blow, etc. like that. More straightforward thinking people will use more brute force while smarter characters will use their environment to their advantage and silly characters may use jokes and the like both for amusement and distraction. How brutal are they in taking down their opponent, do they hold back, etc. etc.

In TOH though... Everyone just brute forces everything with maximum power all the time. My go to example of this is how smart, studious Amity's go to weapon in S2, all of S2, was an abomination fist. Despite having the second most versatile and expressive type of magic in the show, Amity decides to always go for just punching a bitch or literally throwing a fist (or she's not actually really a part of the fight). Why? What part of her character, besides the asinine element of her once being a Grudgby Captain, would make you expect her to be some sort of brawler? To want to get up close and personal with her very own fists? She should be summoning minions, setting traps, ensnaring and debilitating her opponents... And instead she keeps punching people or using the gauntlet as a projectile which isn't even used as a joke for "I cast Fist" which would at least lightly play into her being a nerd even if that's much more a line that should come from Luz.

But even worse is Gus actually. He's not a part of a lot of fights but when he is, how does he use illusions? Literally the most expressive magic there is in almost any setting? The coven that does magic with pizzazz as he puts it? With basic ass clones that aren't even in silly poses or costumes, darkness and mind jacking. The one time he actually makes an illusion to use as an illusion in a fight is very tenuously Looking Glass Ruins. Even then, it's not as a distraction or the like or even coded to who Gus is as a character for the most part. It's more of a trap/set piece than any sort of fight and the level of horror it goes to feels honestly out of character for the most light hearted comedy character in the show. Otherwise though... Where's the pizzazz?

It makes most of the fights in TOH just blend together. It makes the magic feel like everyone is just using energy blasts and vines. I mean even Willow always goes for the most aggressive, brutal approach she can to put down a threat with as many vines as possible. Why? Why does she behave, even when calm, much closer to how you might expect Hunter to since he's actually trained to kill and fight?

None of this is helped either by the fact that I think the first monster Belos fight is really the only one that actually has talking during the fight. Every other fight, the characters entirely shut up until there's a pause in the action. That may be more realistic but it still implies that none of these characters are afraid or panicking or coordinating or anything like that. Even during the ones I can genuinely recall, it's always the villain who speaks. The heroes are too busy just trying to destroy the threat to say anything. It makes how short the fights are a weird sort of blessing because hey! Now the actual story and characterization can continue instead of having a pointless, fluff piece of a fight going on.

So now they don't just feel floaty, they don't have narrative weight either. None of them are a clash of ideas because that only happens once there's a victor. That's less interesting than letting what's being said also follow the eb and flow of the combat itself. It's probably part of why TOH's longest fight is like a minute long.

Then again, if I want good fights then I could just go watch Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles because they have throwaway fights that are better animated, better choreographed and have better personality than either TOH's or Amphibia's best fights. Like seriously: If you've seen clips of that show's big ticket fights, I promise you that it's not a once a season occurrence that they have a great fight. That show is incredible with how silly and fun and GORGEOUS its animation is and I still want to know how the fuck they did that on a tv show budget.

But TOH's fights? I can absolutely see how they were done with a tv show's budget and they don't lean into character or creativity enough to make up for that.

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