#actually both song titles fit too

[thelonelyraven]

I needed to put these together because reasons

Skeletons in my closet Skeletons in my music

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

happy wip wednesday! this one is the ed’s pov version of this post

—————————-

“Izzy.” Ed waits, knowing Izzy is playing out any responses that lead to him going back to bed. Fortunately there are none, or at least none that Izzy deems worth the effort to argue with him over.

With a sigh, he hears Izzy rustle around for a moment before there’s suddenly a blanket in his arms. “Fine.”

[yuikomorii]

Ayato: Idol AU Headcanons

// Since you guys enjoyed my DL K-pop AU posts, I decided to write some HCs about Ayato, because he was the most talked about. In this AU, the Sakamakis aren’t actual brothers, nor are they vampires; the group’s concept is just the one of a vampire family. Some details here are based on true things about Ayato but have been slightly tweaked to better fit the idol AU. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

He was once a basketball player and even served as the captain of his team. His dedication to the sport often led him to compete in numerous tournaments, causing him to skip many classes.

Ayato was scouted for his visuals. The CEO of REJET LABELS noticed his youthful yet refined features while Ayato was casually walking home from high school.

A former classmate confirmed Ayato’s popularity at school. She also mentioned that people would randomly take pictures of him on the street, and a bunch of his photos are used on Pinterest for inspiration.

Even before starting his trainee period, Ayato was already quite good in both slow and freestyle dancing. After beginning his training, he discovered his rapping abilities.

As a trainee, the first person Ayato befriended was Laito, who remained his closest companion even after debuting. The two are often spotted hanging out together.

Ayato hates doing aegyo. However, during a special episode of the variety show MUKBROS, Kou dared him to sing and dance to a cute song. The performance went extremely viral, skyrocketing his popularity. Despite this success, Ayato has admitted that the experience still gives him PTSD.

Ayato is in high demand for brand deals and appears to be everywhere. Rumor has it he’s poised to become the next Chanel ambassador. Unfortunately, this has led some solo fans of other members to accuse him of favoritism, casting him in a negative light.

He is the first member of the SAKAMAKIS to appear in Vogue, where he was officially recognized as the "IT boy."

He was ranked 1st in top 100 most beautiful faces (male version); one of the reasons why he gained the “Visual God” title within the idol community.

His best known controversy involves plastic surgery. Netizens noticed changes in Ayato’s nose and jaw when comparing his pre-debut photos and videos to his current appearance. A bunch of Dialovers took his side, attributing the changes to puberty, yet others strongly disagreed, spreading hate by making posts about him looking “botched.”

Last year, he partnered with soloist Cardia as a MC. This experience had a mixed impact on Ayato’s image. While some criticized him for occasionally forgetting his lines or laughing and posing in front of the camera while Cardia consistently gave her all, others came to his defense. Many fans and non-fans argued that the criticism was too harsh, pointing out that Ayato was never intended to be the spokesperson of his group, but Reiji. They also emphasized that it was unfair to compare someone with no prior experience to someone used to give speeches.

When asked who he considers the best-looking person he knows, he confidently answered, while giggling, "myself." Shu then posed the same question but added a rule: he couldn’t choose himself again. In response, Ayato admitted that Cardia is a close second.

Despite this, the biggest dating rumor surrounding Ayato involved a possible relationship with the daughter of one of the staff members. Diapatch spotted Ayato with a blonde girl at a private event, and sasaengs later reported seeing them holding hands late at night. Whether they are actually dating remains unclear, but the rumors enraged many of Ayato’s solo stans. Some were so upset that they filmed themselves destroying his PCs and degrading the girl online.

The hate train quickly faded, especially after Ayato's successful solo debut. His fancams went viral, with his styling making him truly resemble a Vampire Prince. This reminded netizens of his iconic performance on MUKBROS, leaving them stunned by his duality. On top of that, his noticeable improvement silenced critics who had dismissed him as "just a visual."

When asked which idol he’d like to get to know better, he mentioned soloist KINO from the same company. A few months later, KINO invited him to his limited-edition web show, where they had the chance to interact, play games and even filmed a TikTok together afterward.

It’s rumored that not only REJET LABELS, but also other companies pressure idols into plastic surgery to resemble Ayato. This theory gained credibility when Zen from Un: Birthday Song looked different in middle school but began resembling Ayato after becoming a trainee, securing his debut spot in a reality competition.

People who have seen Ayato describe him as having an arrogant and bold presence on stage, perfectly fitting his vampire idol persona. However, off-stage, he’s known to be kind to his fans and happy to engage in casual conversations. Recently, a Dialover shared their experience meeting Ayato, saying, “In MVs and concerts he appears untouchable, but in real life, you realize he’s just a normal handsome boy.”

He is frequently described as the ideal type in street interviews, admired for his stunning looks, hardworking nature, and confident personality. Moreover, many trainees have cited him as their role model.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 7 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

Song Used: "They're Only Human" ; in Death Note: The Musical (I've attached a link here, but there's also a video format later on when that part comes)

You hummed a tune while reading through a book and laying on your black cloud platform like a beach chair. Your little moment only cut short when your book was suddenly snatched away. You tilted your head up and saw a pair of silver wings with golden highlights before you saw your book burst into flames in the robber’s hand

“You sure took your time.” You teased as you got up from your comfortable position, opting to sit on your platform. “Trick.”

“Come on! Like you don’t know why!” The being exclaimed enraged with their wings getting puffed up, they took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Your little Hell made too much of a commotion, Sil. And I told you to call me Noir!”

You shrugged, “That’s not fitting for a character such as yourself, Trick sounds better anyways.”

Trick was similar to you. Actually, he was your opposite. You being the true ruler of Hell makes them the true ruler of Heaven. Of course, unlike how you keep your identity in the shadows, theirs was more well known. Trick was the God that everyone made a big deal around

If one were to see you two together, they’s say the two of you were night and day, good and evil, yin and yang. Not in terms of element, but in appearance as well

While Trick has a pair of lovely giant wings, you had none and would use a black cloud platform to ‘fly’ in some sense. While Trick has hair above the shoulder, you had hair below it. Trick’s eyes remain opened while yours are closed. Trick dons a causal and chill look while you had a more formal and elegant look

Still, whatever you two may appear, those weren’t important as the personalities you two had. If Trick’s name wasn’t an obvious indicator, they are not the holy entity the humans and angels painted them to be

Like you, Trick is absent from a direct presence in your respective realms. However, they love playing around with ‘divine interventions’ or ‘sacred messages’ from the God of this world. Truly, no one was aware of a balance. Even there’s Heaven and Hell, and God is in Heaven overseeing ‘his children’, what of hell?

Yes. You are the ‘God’ of Hell. Though either of you like that title. Since Trick was the one more in the open, you love teasing them about it every time you meet. To you, it’s truly entertaining to see them groan and whine over it

“So~ How was the sleep? Good?” Trick leaned over as their wings flapped from time to time to keep them hovering in the air. 

“Like Hell it was, you put me out of commission for no reason and with no warning! I have souls to watch over unlike your lazy holiness.” You snapped with your eyebrows furrowed.

Trick raised his hands in ressurender, “Hey, I was out of commission as well! It’s not a one-side thing.”

Your eyes squeezed even tighter as if you’re glaring at the jerk of a partner. “You started it!”

The two of you were Supreme Beings of your realm and entities as holy and cursed element. You can’t have one without the other. While it’s true that you were weak to holy powers, Trick was weak to cursed powers. You two were each other’s weakness no matter the situation

And the two of you aren’t as immortal as people would think. The two of you can be killed and healed by each other. Killing involves falling into a deep sleep when one side dies and healing involves transfering the other’s wounds onto themselves to heal more naturally as wounds can only be done by the opposite element

If one asks how to describe the two of you. You both were inseparable, can’t have one without the other. The concept of yin and yang comes to play

You are yin, in darkness there’s kindness. You are the unknown, you are negativity, you are darkness. You collect and control the souls marked for Hell without letting them go so long as they worth something to you. Even when you do it wasn’t for mercy and you’ll cage them into a torture unlike any other

Though, you were kind. You offer advice to those that deserve it and give opportunities for people to change. Why else would you let a soul be redeemed and let it leave Hell to go to Heaven? Why else would you allow Alastor to remind at the hotel even after your presence is back? Why else would you give Husk that little hope at a better future?

Trick was yang, in light there’s evil. They are the known, they are positivity, they are light. Trick judges and provides the souls marked for Heaven without letting them feel any negativity and only joy and happiness. Giving those worthy souls that lived life accordingly to enter a paradise fitting of Winners

Though, they were wicked and twisted. They enjoy a good trickery here and there, opting to let their high ranking angels deal with everything rather than rule as the ‘God’ they were named. They cared for none but their own interest and entertainment. If anything, Trick doesn’t see souls to be worth anything. To them, souls were nothing but actors on a stage to perform a good show for beings that was you and them to enjoy watching

“Fine, fine. I won’t do that again, unless you want a little rest.” Trick smirked as he looked your way. “So how’s your collection?”

“Hm… There will be some changes with what I have now. It’s a work in progress.” You told as you thought it over, “How’s your Emily?”

Trick’s smile widened, “Oh, miserable. But admirable. The sweet thing. She found out about the exterminations and sided with that Hell Princess during court! I told you she’s worth paying attention to.”

You hummed, “That’s what you said about Lucifer and he ended up falling to Hell. I wonder if Emily will be casted out as well.” You sensed the dark aura around your dear long-time friend spike and you turned your head over, “Don’t worry, I know not to accept her into Hell. She’s your prized one. Even if she’s casted out, I’ll push her back into Heaven.”

Trick huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists, “Good. Cause I will so remove those stupid higher angels if they did that to the only worthy angel in Heaven.” He looked over to you as well, “Don’t worry, it’s the same for your collections, I won’t let them into Heaven unless you want them do.”

Your smile widened, “Oh, I’ll never let them go~ But thanks for that safety net.”

You both picked your focus. While yours was on a hand-picked group, Trick focused on that one. Your little soul owning had one amazing benefit that none knew. It was the protection against angelic weapons

Back then when Alastor was hit by Adam’s attack in the chest, the slash should have eaten away at his body and soul. The angelic weapons or steel was created to aim directly at the soul of a being, that’s why it could kill both demons and angels. There was nothing angelic to it, merely a combine of yours and Trick’s power to create something that kills the soul

Now, your protection that to limit the effect of the wound till they can reach you for healing. But the best part was that your Overlords have no soul within their bodies so they wouldn’t be killed! Even if their head was chopped off by an angelic spear, it will just take time to grow back

You’ll never tell them that benefit nor do you plan to let them know about it. That’s why you made your appearance at the hotel. It was the sole reason of healing Alastor on your own terms. You thought of leaving soon later but you just couldn’t leave the poor deer when he was that desperate for your presence

The thing you can’t understand was why Trick only picks the one being to care for. Emily was what their supposed to be honestly. If someone met Trick and it was revealed that they were the God, no one would believe it. There was so much chaos and twisted nature in them that it was impossible that they were God

Yet you as the one by their time since the beginning of time knew the change was because of time. Time changed their view on the world and humans. So many time, they were disappointed that they just gave up and decided to laugh at all the misery. Maybe, you and Trick could switch places

But Trick will never agree because they never liked what you have set up in Hell already, plus there wouldn’t be an ‘Emily’ there. It was proposed once, and Trick shot it down without a thought. So to cure their boredom, there are meet-ups like this

Of course, the two of you end up going to Earth to see what the humans were up to while marking souls on whether they go to Heaven or Hell when they die

Trick smirked and flapped his wings to fly over, and gestures to the humans minding their own business in the city, ♫ Look at how they crawl around, upon the ground, like little ants ♫

♫ Yes, but how they fascinate, ♫ You floated over with your smokey platform, slapping away his hand to touch a mortal, ♫ Confusing fate, With what is merely chance ♫

♫ Isn’t it a laugh? ♫ Trick nudged you.

You pushed him away, ♫ Isn’t it a shame? ♫

♫ Thinking there is someone in Heaven to blame ♫ Trick pointed at themselves. 

You rolled your eyes, ♫ Yes, but even while blaming fate for the lives that they lead. They hope for the lives that they need ♫

Trick snapped their fingers, both of them appearing in a cemetery with a heavy mood in the air. They carried a white umbrella while you carried a black one, staying at the back of the group that was grieving while a coffin was lowered, ♫ Living every day ‘til the day they die. Never getting answers ♫

♫ Yet still asking why ♫ You snapped your fingers and appeared on the roof of a building that oversaw a group of religious individuals praying, ♫ Going through the motions as if there will be a reward ♫

♫ While we stay, ♫ Trick made a bored and disgusted face at the scene, grabbing your hand so the two of you fall, ♫ Eternally bored! ♫

♫ They’re only human. They don’t see ♫ The two of you sang, Trick with their signature smirk and you with a bored look. ♫ Who they are is who they’ll always be. Only human, after all ♫

Trick brought you to a scene in front of a murder scene, ♫ So they push and they shove ♫

You showed Trick a scene with a romantic couple on a date, ♫ With this thing they call love ♫

♫ ‘Til they fall! ♫ You both watched as soldiers fall and their souls going to where they were picked to.

♫ Isn’t it a farce? ♫ Trick shrugged while the scene changed to that of a hospital room with a weak man on the bed.

♫ Isn’t it a waste? ♫ You eyed the crying humans around the man, listening as the monitor beep softer and longer with each pause. 

♫ Struggling to Face what can never be faced ♫ Trick leaned against the wall with crossed arms. 

♫ Yes, but maybe Death can release something more than we share ♫ You blinked at the man as he tried his best to hold the closest family member of his.

♫ I really don’t know ♫ Trick came over, their wing slapped at the man over the face and the lifeline fell flat, ♫ and don’t care ♫

You shook your head while the room bursted in tears and doctors and nurses rushed in, Trick was as indifferent as already with his grin on his face, ♫ They’re only Human. Standing still. Doomed to live pushing boulders uphill. Only Human, after all ♫

With a snap of Trick’s finger, the two of you arrived at a temple with a number of offerings, Trick picked up one and threw it to you then took one for themselves, ♫ So they give and we take ♫

You caught it with one hand and eyed it, then to the elderly women that was bowing to statue, ♫ Hoping someone will help break their fall ♫

Trick brought you to a gang meeting of sorts, the topic seemingly deciding on someone’s death, ♫ They will pray, curse, live, die. Never knowing their Truth is another Man’s Lie ♫

♫ Eat, sleep, love, hate ♫ You changed the scene to one where a group of friends were enjoying themselves in a forest, ♫ Like a Leaf blowing in the Wind ♫

Trick switched to a scene where students are forced to pick a career for the future, gesturing to all the troubled humans for you. ♫ Watch them all vacillate! ♫ 

The both of you sang, ♫ They’re only human. They can’t see ♫

♫ All the fun they could give you and me ♫ Trick laughed darkly while you smiled at his amusement.

♫ Only human, after all ♫ You both continued as you two picked out a wave of souls destined for Hell without another thought while Trick only picked a small group of them.

♫ So they give and we take ♫ You had your palms opened at the vast souls that would be doomed for Hell under your thoughtless choosing.

Trick nodded approvingly over your future collection, a twisted smile forming, ♫ ‘Til their silly hearts break ♫ 

♫ Looking down from above. I’m intrigued by their love ♫ An equally dark smile appeared on your face as you took Trick’s offered hand for a short sway. 

Trick suggested while taking you into their arms. ♫ So let’s play! ♫

You nodded along, ♫ Let’s play! ♫

Trick chuckled while dipping you down, “Hmm, let’s enjoy ourselves with these foolish souls.”

Since the beginning of time, there were two beings. A being that symbolizes light and a being that symbolizes dark. They were two sides of the same coin and co-exist together contary to what humans would theorize or write in their little works of art

“So I’ll assume you want me to put Heaven’s little business on hold? Not that they can do much with a redeemed soul in their ranks.” Trick smirked at you, their wings flapping at their little jab at their realm’s higher ranked angels. “So Hell gets some peace for the moment.”

Your smiled back, eyes peeking open to that revealed a cosmos from within, “Yes, that is much appreciated. There’s gonna be some interesting change in my collection.”

��Love it when your eyes does that.” Trick’s wings opened up to show the view of a night sky.

“Yours is not too bad. Quite the sight.”

“Only a sight for the two of us though. None is more worthy of it.”

“I’ll agree.”

Everything happening on these two beings’ whims and wants, nothing’s done with clear purpose, and anything’s fair game. As divine and just as the humans painted them to be, they are nothing like the holy one that cares for all’s interest from above. As cruel and evil as the humans painted you to be, you are anything but the cold and heartless tormentor of prisoners of Hell

Note: New character!! I'll get to the request that were about this concept in a bit. First! The character design for Trick and you will be out in a moment~

Now then~ You guys feeling op yet?

Oh yeah!! I'm more interested with the song format too!! First time trying this, what you guys think???

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203@hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe

[godmadeaterribleerror]

As Much As I Do - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Author's Note: One-shot request from my love lordofthunderthr! Extra thanks because I've been waiting for the genuine smallest reason to use this gif because it's in no way going to fit into the actual story. Title from Bob Dylan by Fall Out Boy (you guys can pry my Fall Out Boy song titles from my cold, dead hands)

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. It's fluff. Horny fluff.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

Ben felt like a fucking cat. She was touching him casually while he “slept” and he was pretty sure he was fucking purring. The Thing was definitely making some sort of goddamn low sound, and Ben couldn’t blame it. She was touching him like it was simple, his head was buried in Her neck, and one arm wrapped was between her body and the mattress while one splayed out across the bed because it goddamn could. He was in their fucking bed and Ben could do whatever the hell he wanted on it. 

Except fuck Her. 

Ben wasn’t allowed to fuck Her. 

He wasn’t allowed to make Her moan and scream and feel fucking good. Fuck Her until she said his name and smiled at him and looked so fucking perfect, undone below him. Or above him. Or against him or in front of him or clinging to his body. He didn’t give a single shit, as long as it was Her. Wanting Ben, touching him, letting him touch her. Like this—where Ben’s breath was in time with her heartbeat and her perfect hands were running through his hair—but until She’d been ruined. Until her beautiful face was flushed and her hands were clawing at his back and her pretty eyes were blown out and lustful and all of it was for Ben. For how he was making Her feel, how she was gasping and begging for him to do it again and again until the only words She knew were Ben and please and everything else was just moans and whines. Until she felt half as damn good as Ben did now, resting on top of Her as she fucking pet him and he had to fight the Thing’s urge to just stay here for the rest of goddamn time. 

“I know you’re awake, Benjamin.” Her voice was so perfect, humming everywhere around him and soothing the Thing, that Ben almost missed her actual fucking words. “I can feel you.” 

He didn’t answer. Maybe She’d just give up, and keep him right fucking here—where they both belonged—forever. 

He should’ve known better. Ben knew Her too fucking well to think she’d ever just let anything go. 

“You’re heavy,” She said, and one hand dropped to the base of Ben’s neck. “And you smell like shit.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I smell fucking fantastic.” Ben didn’t move as he grunted the words against Her skin. He wouldn’t move, not until she damn made him. 

“I knew it.” 

Clever, impossible, perfect fucking woman. With Her happy giggle when Ben squeezed her closer and her gasp when he nipped the skin of her neck.

“That’s a goddamn underhanded move, Sunshine.” He muttered, and when he looked up at Her it was like he’d been struck by lightning. She was smiling at him so gently, eyes still heavy with sleep, and so fucking beautiful. Just looking at him, watching Ben like she’d never want to look anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pretty Boy.” She kept smiling at him, voice smug. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “You didn’t know I was awake,” he said Her name, and her smile widened. “You fucking baited me.” 

She shrugged, body shifting under Ben’s and making a small sound that sent a rush of pure fucking hunger through him. “Prove it.” 

Ben had a lot of favorite sounds She made. The small squeak when he flipped her body over his—sitting up with his back against the headboard and sliding her down his chest—was certainly on the damn list. 

“You’re a fucking menace, beautiful.” Ben pulled Her forward slightly, leaning down to growl in her ear. “I don’t think I’ll have to prove it. I think I’ll ask you again and you’ll just tell me.”

When Ben moved back, meeting Her eyes, he could feel her heartbeat under his hands. Resting right at the line of her shirt, never higher. Holding her right where he fucking wanted her. Against him, so when she squirmed he’d feel it. 

“Fuck yo-“ 

He didn’t wait to make a teasing remark or dirty joke. Ben just leaned forwards and touched Her. Kissed her pretty mouth until she opened for him, pushing his tongue in—almost down her throat—and just trying to get closer. As close as he was allowed to be, while still touching her more, making her feel good. Make Her hands pull at his hair, make her whimper a fucking perfect sound from her throat that Ben got to devour. He’d lost sight of his original plan, but he didn’t really fucking care. Not when he bit her lower lip and could revere in the way she leaned further into him, or when he had to try not to lose his fucking mind when she started to grind down on him. Started to practically fucking climb up his body. 

When Ben sucked on her tongue and she made maybe the best sound he’d ever heard in his life—unintelligible and breathless—he had to wrap his arms around Her and pull her into his chest. Hold Her there until he could get goddamn control of himself and not have to explain why he’d fucking cum in his pants. 

“Ben,” She whispered, head in his chest. “You really do smell terrible.”

He chuckled. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Can you please shower so we can train?” 

“I told you last night, we’re not fucking training-“ 

“And I told you, Benjamin, that I do not care what you told me.” She glared up at him, so fucking beautiful, and now Ben had to goddamn pretend he hadn’t already given in. “I am training, with or without you.” 

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.” 

She smiled at him. “But…?”

Ben rolled his eyes, leaning his head back, forcing himself to stop staring at Her perfect face. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“We’ll train.” 

“Thank you,” She kissed his neck, near his jaw, and hummed against his skin. “Now go shower. You smell like balls.” 

The only thing that kept Ben from taking a year in the shower—letting the Thing grab him and show him all the ways he could’ve just fucked her on the bed, buried himself in her and made her scream—was that sometimes, when they trained her singing, his doppelgänger would appear. It would make Her face flush, make her eyes wide and heartbeat quicken, and Ben would get to taunt her until one of them moved and he was kissing the air out of her lungs. It was something to look forward to. Something that made Ben fucking haul ass, getting in and out of the shower in four minutes flat. 

Ben hadn’t left the room when he realized that She was already singing. She’d gotten more comfortable with it, the longer they practiced, and sometimes would hum softly during movies or while doing normal things. Normal, easy things like laundry or dishes or cooking, simple fucking things that Ben got to share with Her. Got to watch how Her humming would send the world into a spiral of her, all the perfect fucking parts of her cast across the room for Ben to exist in. Colors and lights that he got to watch her sway in. 

This wasn’t that. This was singing. 

With words and instruments and a beat that ran through Ben’s body and bones. With the room turned into a dark club, with lights that flashed and changed in time with the bass. 

And She was dancing. She was singing and dancing and moving with the music like it had been made for Her. Like the rhythm had been designed to follow her legs, and the guitar had been made to move her hips. Like the whole fucking song had been perfectly tailored to her voice and how she moved through it. How she didn’t stop for even a second, never losing a breath, performing for no one like her life depended on it. 

It didn’t, but Ben’s life might. Everything in the world might hinge on letting her just dance like that forever. The Thing wanted all of this. All of Her, forever, like this, or it would fucking explode. Ben had no will to push against it. Not when She was dropping down and twisting and turning her body and so lost in it that she didn’t even see Ben. Falling to her knees and leaning back while her hands gestured with the lyrics. Trailed down her body and up again. Wrapping around her throat before falling to the side. Her whole fucking voice saying every word like it had been written for her, the whole face twisting with the emotions of the song, smiling and dropping into a pout and so fucking perfect. 

She only saw Ben when the song ended. When the club disappeared and they were back in the apartment, leaving Ben no longer hidden in the shadows of her illusion. He should probably feel like a goddamn creep, but Her mouth fell open and her heart picked up, so he couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.

“Hi,” She whispered, and Ben grinned at Her.

“Hello.”

“How long-“ 

“About three minutes,” he crossed the room until he was standing above Her. “Almost the whole fucking show.” 

“You, um, you showered fast.” 

Ben winked at Her. “I’d have showered faster if I’d known I was missing something. You do dance like a fucking slut.” 

She scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him. “That’s pretty high and mighty for the manwhore to say.” 

“It was fucking hot,” he lowered himself down until his nose was bumping hers. “I think I prefer your slut dancing, Sunshine. It’s more you.” 

“More me?” She gave him a flat look. “Fucking rude.” 

“How the hell is that-“ 

“You just called me a slut, Benjamin. That’s not very nice.” She whacked his chest, and Ben caught her hand. Held it there. 

“It’s more you because it’s fucking loud. Because it’s fucking captivating and hot. So fucking beautiful and good.”

Because it’s fucking perfect, the Thing rumbled. Because you’re fucking perfect. 

She was watching Ben with wide eyes. Opening and closing her mouth like she was going to say something. 

Instead, she fucking tackled him. Rammed Her body forward, crashed her mouth against his, and let Ben pick her up and carry to the couch. Training could fucking wait. Everything could fucking wait. She was making that same perfect sound from before, and her hands in his hair were making him groan, and when his hand started to kneed at her skin she made such a happy fucking sigh and Ben knew everything could wait. This was just Her. Making the Thing content and goddamn purr in his chest. Making Ben grin against Her neck when he sucked that one spot and she moaned his name. 

The whole world could go fuck itself. This was Her.

End Note: Let's all say thank you to @lordofthunderthr for some easy fluff in these dark times (Chapter 16 to Chapter 19).

I'm going to start a separate tag list for one-shots, so lemme know if you want to be added!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

[star-girl69]

She Calls Me Baby

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: college au, in which you slowly realize something is wrong with your girlfriend.

a/n: love this song. had to do it sorry. anyways this sucks actual BALLS but idc i just have to write something or else i will lose my empire and title as mother of clarisse tumblr ☹️

Jackie and Wilson - Hozier

warnings: NOT BETA READ, im sure this is so discombobulated but IDC!!!!!! anyways, swearing, mentions of death and the usual demigod stuff, mentions of monsters, idk pretty chill…, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your favorite story Clarisse ever told you is the one about soulmates.

She told it to you in the dark, in her bed, hand on the side of your face as she whispered to you like you were secret lovers.

She told you that humans once had two heads and four arms, but Zeus thought they would grow to be too powerful and split them apart. Hearts split in two, detained to roam the earth, trying to find each other.

That’s how it feels with Clarisse- like you’ve known her for years, like your bodies were born of the same speck of dust, souls grew next to each other, fires inside of you burning in the same altar for a hundred years before you met.

Clarisse approached you fast- hard and unrelenting like a hurricane. She wanted whatever she could take from you, love, comfort, a one-night.

It scared her when you wanted to give.

It was kind of crazy how easily the two of you just fit together, crazy how you both liked some things, both hated things, hated something things she liked and nice versa. It was like there was this natural balance between you, everything sort of cosmically weighed out- and it just felt so right to be with her that everything else faded away.

But it was clear that Clarisse fell head over heels for you, the way she would smile and just tell you that you were so different, so much better than her. You were everything she wasn’t, and she resented you so much for it she loved you.

You weren’t exactly sure why Clarisse loved you so much- maybe it was the way you respect her past, maybe it was the way you didn’t push- you just accepted the crazy and tried your best to save her with what little information you did have. It surprised her and you when you became the one to get greedy, to take from her, but you knew she loved the feeling of being wanted.

But lately, Clarisse has been particularly… off. It’s not exam season, so you can’t chalk it up to that. And she’s the most talented player on the field hockey team, you’ve seen her play- she’s overconfident and for good reason. She has no reason to be stressed there, unless somethings changed.

But something tells you it’s not that.

The first real concrete clue you ever got was when you first met her.

The library is where you met Clarisse. The one closest to your dorm hall, the one that’s two floors and built like an out-of-place Greek temple- it always makes you smile when Clarisse gives it a dirty look, trying to persuade you to go to any other library. It doesn’t make sense to you- why go to the one all the way across campus when this one is only a five minute walk?

She always seems on edge when she meets you in here, but she bites it back and won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. She says it’s just a weird thing she has, hard to explain, so you let it go when she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she smiles, pulling out the chair next to you. She glances around the library, not nervously, but observant. Ready, waiting. She’s always been able to do that- scan an entire room in seconds and find out everything.

“Hi,” you smile, stretching as you push your books away from you, grateful for the distraction her brown eyes and sweet voice provide.

She picks up a textbook you’ve pushed off to the side. She scoffs at the title, mumbling about how she still doesn’t know why you would choose the major you did.

“How was practice?” you ask, choosing to ignore her remarks in favor of soaking up her attention and the much needed distraction.

“Boring,” she hums, rubbing her foot up and down your leg, head in her hands. “Freshmen are pissin’ me off, they don’t know shit. Coach has to teach them all the basics over again.”

You lay your head on a thick textbook, staring up at her. “The freshmen are always shitty. Then you love them by the end of the year.”

“I don’t,” she huffs, but some of her favorite members of the team are the freshmen she hated her sophomore year. “Whatever. It’s different, they all suck. Shouldn’t be here.”

“Sure,” you say, yawning again.

“Okay, did you not sleep last night?” she chuckles.

You shrug sheepishly, Clarisse is always so adamant you sleep and eat enough, but sometimes you have to sacrifice the little things for your grades.

“I had a test this morning, stayed up a little later cramming.”

“Uh-huh, so, like, until 1 in the morning? Worse?”

You hold your breath, sitting up as you conveniently look away from her. “3,” you exhale.

She smiles and puts a piece of hair behind your ear.

“But,” you smile, sensing the lecture. “After these five questions, I can be all yours for the rest of the day.”

She pretends to weigh her options.

“Well, I do like the sound of that.”

—-

The second clue is the way she always seems like she’s running away from something.

Your rooms are blessedly only a few doors down from each other, so someone is always sneaking into someone else’s and your roommates have both learned to deal with it.

Silena, Clarisse’s roommate, only greets you with a smile as you sheepishly slip past her in the mornings- Clarisse’s shirt haphazardly slipped over you.

So, on this day, you’re slumped in bed while Clarisse promises to take care of you, and you’re all too happy to let her.

She’s already spent the last hour lying with you in bed, letting you sleep on top of her- forcing you to catch up on some much needed hours of rest with her soft voice in your ear and hand trailing up your back.

She only got up when you mentioned you were hungry, immediately suggesting the idea of ordering from your favorite restaurant, refusing to be swayed by you back into your warm bed.

So, here you were, scrolling on your phone while you waited for the click of the door and the smell of hot food. And it comes, you prepare to make some quip about how dare she leaves you for almost a half hour.

Her keys jangle in her hands as she quickly shuts the door, turning around and pressing her back against it. She breathes out, heavily, before her eyes meet yours and she studies the shocked and confused look on your face.

“Ran up the stairs,” she smiles, leaving her keys and wallet on top of your dresser, dropping the bag of food on your bed before she goes to the window, peeking out of it. “Didn’t want my princess waiting for too long,” she chuckles.

You don’t even look at the bag of food in front of you. You reach out and grab her hand, and she flinches, but pulls away from the window and into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, and panic flashes in her eyes as she quickly rips open the bag.

“C’mon, don’t let it get cold.”

“Clar… baby,”

“Wanna watch a movie? Or play a game? Anything you want, sweetheart, jus’ say the word.”

—-

The third clue is the fact that you’re 99% sure she’s seeing things.

It sounds horrible to say, and sometimes late at night when she’s asleep against you, you wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do. You’ve only met her mom a few times, never met her father- Silena and her have been friends for years, but you still feel like it all falls to you.

It doesn’t, legally, maybe not even morally- but she’s your girlfriend. You should know what she wants, you should be able to advocate for her when she can’t.

So, the best thing you can think to do it ignore it. You pretend it doesn’t concern you, you pretend you don’t see it, you pretend because you can’t even think about the idea of her not being her, of her being away from you.

You focus on the moment.

You love these walks with Clarisse, her hand warm in yours. It was moments like these where you felt like Clarisse was your sun. Yes, the setting sun was warm against your back, but nothing made you feel alive like Clarisse did. Your hands swing together, hitting your hip, and she seamlessly switches from your hand to wrapping at arm around your waist.

You smile at her, cheeks hot. You go to adjust your bag as a means of distracting yourself, but your hand awkwardly ends up floating in the air when you realize Clarisse took your bag when she picked you up from your last class.

As if sensing the awkwardness, she hikes the tote bag farther up her shoulder.

“What’re your plans today, pretty girl?”

You hum, feeling so at ease with the way she calls you that pet name, with the way she squeezes you closer to her.

“Well, I finished my big project yesterday, don’t really have anything else to do, so I was just gonna chill. What ‘bout you?”

“Ugh,” she groans. “I have practice until 8. But I’ll come over after? And spend the night?”

You smile, laughing softly.

“I don’t know why you even ask anymore.”

“It’s polite,” she smiles. “I’m a very polite person, only when it comes to you.”

“I’ll see you at 8:15, huh?”

“Obviously,” she huffs, kissing your temple. Again, you feel like cheeks heat like this is the first day you met her. It’s embarrassing to be affected by her so much, but it’s also so sweet. Only she can draw out these reactions from you, this potent all these months later. It still feels like the first day with her sometimes, but you also feel like you’ve known her for years.

She bites her lip and hisses a curse word under her breath.

“What?” you ask, snapped out of the way she holds you so perfectly, following her eye line. She stares firmly in between two cars, but there’s nothing there.

“Nothing,” she says, not taking her eyes away from that spot- not even blinking, you realize after a second. She hides the way she gets, that unrelenting focus like when she’s playing in a game, with a laugh.

“Thought I saw that bitch from my 11am.” You look at her. You don’t believe her. She knows you don’t. And it breaks your heart that something is clearly happening, and you can’t force yourself to feel bad for ignoring it, and you can’t force her to tell you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She moves to hold your hand and drags you off forcefully toward the direction of the entrance. She squints, almost like she’s driving off something with her mind.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, squeezing her hand, feeling unsettled just by the way she’s so clearly ready for a fight. It’s like she can see something you can’t.

She risks a small glance at you, a normal looking smile.

“It’s all good, baby. I’ve got you,” she smiles, reaching back like she’s stretching, but something where there’s nothing glints in the sunlight.

—-

The fourth clue is the fight with Silena.

She asked you to meet her at her dorm, wear something nice and pretty, and you’ll go out for a nice dinner and some ice cream. She’s been so busy with practice lately, it makes your entire body squeeze the way she jumps to spend time with you at the first off day she gets.

You smooth down your pretty top, the one you know you look good in, the one you know she likes. You’re about to knock on the door when you realize it’s been left open, just a crack. That’s when their voices rise, enough so you can hear them.

“It different now, Clar!”

“It’s. Not. It’s not different, it will never be different, nothing will ever change.”

“Before, Clarisse, when you told me you had this crush on the girl in your econ class, I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t care. But, Gods, Clarisse, anyone can see it’s different. She’s not just some girl, she’s your girl, your girlfriend, and you’re totally in love with her.”

“I know that,” she huffs. “I’m the one who’s actually in love with her. I love her, and I know her. I know what’s best for her.”

“And she’s in love with you too, Clarisse.”

She laughs. “I would hope so.”

“It’s different, Clarisse. It’s been different for a while, and I didn’t say anything because I thought you would notice. But you haven’t.”

“Fuck, Silena, please. Please, just stop. I’m not puttin’ her through that. I’m not putting myself through that again. I’m not that girl anymore. I am not my father’s daughter.”

“It never goes away, Clar.”

Silena’s voice is quiet, hesitant. Clarisse has confessed to you her struggles with her emotions all her life, particularly anger. Half the reason her mother sent her to that camp she always talks about was because she had such bad anger issues. But she worked through them, and you know she’s different now, she has healthy outlets and ways to cope.

But still, Silena seems scared.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You hear her walking towards you and quickly step back, smoothing your face out into a blank slate, tempted to hit yourself in the head to forget what you just heard.

The door swings open, and she smiles immediately when she sees you.

“Y/N,” she says, sticking her keys into her pocket. You force yourself to do your best smile. “Oh, baby, you look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile, letting her wrap her arms around you, letting her press a soft kiss against your lips.

—-

Clarisse made you laugh all night, made you smile, made you wonder how you ever got this far in life without her. She paid for your dinner and ushered you out of the restaurant, chuckling about how you drove her crazy and she just wanted you now-

Until she walked you to your car, opened the passenger door for you- suddenly shoving you inside and pushing the door softly closed, as much as she could get it with your foot still hanging out.

“Clarisse!” you shout, but she’s already appeared in the driver’s seat next to you, ushering you inside, reaching over and shutting the car door. She locks them with a satisfying click, finally letting her shoulder’s sink down. “What the fuck?” you huff.

“Sorry,” she smiles, hands squeezing the steering wheel. “It was the weirdest thing, a squirrel ran right over my foot, I got so freaked out…” she smiles, forces a laugh, but you only look at her unimpressed.

“Clarisse,” you sigh, letting your hands fall to your sides in defeat. “What’s going on? Please?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

“Just let me drive home,” she had said, and now you’re home, leading her into your dorm and she presses her back against the door.

You put your hands on her shoulders and she puts hers on your hips, she can’t look at you and you do your best to meet her eyes.

“Clarisse,” you say, a silent beg that all your suspicions are wrong, and everything and fine and she still loves you, she’s still your girlfriend.

“I’m not ready to tell you,” she rushes out. Her fingertips dig into your skin. “I’m not ready, okay? I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“T-that’s okay,” you say after a moment. “It’s okay. I just… you can tell me, when you’re ready. I’m just scared, I don’t know why this is happening, you’re being so different-”

She hugs you and puts her face into your neck.

“Please, Y/N,” she breathes, shaky breath tickling your neck. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything, just let that be enough, please.”

You hugs you quick and hard, and you’re so shocked by it that you almost take a step back. But you can’t, really, not with her arms so tight, so right around you. And once you realize it’s just your Clarisse, you coo softly and put your hand in her hair, the other around her shoulders.

“Of course it’s enough, baby. Of course, I just want you to know that I’m here… I’m here…”

You run your hand through her hair and she exhales.

“I know, I know it’s not perfect, but you’re all I have. You’re all I have, Y/N, just be here with me, please.”

“I will,” you breathe. “I will.”

Your mind is swirling with more questions than answers, but Clarisse asks you to call her baby again and leads you to your bed. And you do, you call her baby and tell her you love her.

And the realization comes slowly, but once it comes it feels so right.

You don’t know what’s going on with Clarisse. All you have are incoherent clues strung together, but you realize you don’t care. You love Clarisse more than you’re scared of a little crazy.

And you tell her that as she lays on top of you, and she simply takes her face out of your neck, the faintest hint of tears welling in her eyes.

“I love you crazy, baby,” you murmur.

She smiles, and you feel like you’re being sucked into the eye of a hurricane.

She lets out a soft breath, like she was scared, so scared- and you’re not sure she’s ever been scared before. But she’s scared of losing you. She’s scared of losing you, and that makes you giddy like a schoolgirl. That makes you love her even more.

“I’m a lot of crazy,” she says, and you can’t tell if she’s joking, but you laugh. You laugh like a hyena, because you love her more than you love yourself.

You want to be the harbor she comes back to each night, you want to be the pillow where she rests her head. You want to be a vault for her secrets and her love. You want to be everything for her and you want to be everything to her.

You don’t believe in Greek myths, but maybe that one about soulmates was right.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[nandolonso]

UNDISCLOSED DESIRES (Fernando Alonso x Reader)

TITLE: Undisclosed Desires – aka who is the biggest fan of whom? (Fernando Alonso x Reader)

I got inspired after Baku. P6 BABY, LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO!

FYI: English is not my main language nor is Spanish. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Word count: 4K

Warnings: self-doubt, self-image issues, kind of shy reader, reassuring and slightly dominant Nando (who worships the shit out of you), happiness, positive social media presence, Spanish, dirty talking and fingering, smuttish – I hope you enjoy it. 😉

Recommended song: Undisclosed Desires by Muse

Explanation: Y/N – your name, Y/H/C – your hair color

Also, this GIF is chef's kiss, his gaze is so intense. GOSH!!! 🔥 I hope you'll like it. Let me know what you think! ❤️‍🔥

//

It was race day in Baku.

You were sitting in the paddock waiting for Fernando Alonso to show up. Your boyfriend. It was hard to comprehend that he was your man, your partner. It was an unbelievable title – but it was true, he really was yours.

However, the last period has been challenging for both of you. On the one hand, Alonso has spent several periods away from you, as Aston Martin has struggled to get a good position in recent months. Of course, Fernando took his job very seriously, so he helped the engineers where he could. They did a lot of test laps, planning, thinking.

As for you: you were an average person. You were not a reporter or a supermodel. You were completely different from Alonso's previous partners. You were ordinary – in the best possible way. But it was a very difficult situation for you. You often questioned yourself: were you good enough? Were you good enough not only for yourself but for him? Where did you belong in this world? Especially seeing the other WAGs, and how pretty and thin they were… And you could go on. So, all that time you spent apart didn't help your already fragile mental state.

It was tough for you not to project your self-doubt onto him. And you hated yourself for it. Because there was nothing you wanted more than to be there to support him in every race. To be there for him, always. But a lot of times your state of mind, the media presence, and all the hustle and bustle didn't help you at all. That's why you stayed mostly in the background, as you didn't want Fernando to worry any more than he had been worrying lately.

Fortunately, Aston Martin recently managed to sign Adrian Newey to the team, and you could almost see the "life" returning to Fernando's eyes. The love of your life was shining as he entered the paddock: his stance was firm and confident, that mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth was back, and his gaze was sparkling with fire which you hadn't seen for a long time now.

You couldn't help thinking how good he looked. How he deserves to be world champion again. Your world champion. The thought made your chest tighten. You loved him so much it almost hurt. You wanted him to be happy and succeed so much – it was sometimes physically impossible to bear.

You have never felt this way about anyone, and you didn't want to lose him. You had been together for almost a year now, but you noticed your feelings for him growing every day. So, you thought this weekend was the perfect time to surprise him and actually show that. To be there for him not just mentally, but physically.

You pulled yourself together: you wore a custom Kimoa x Aston Martin shirt that fit your body perfectly. While you didn't have a supermodel figure, you were definitely gorgeous. You had a lot of heads turning in the paddock.  

Your Y/H/C hair glistened in the sunshine, your fingernails painted the typical "Aston Martin green". You counterbalanced the shirt with a black skort that showed off your body perfectly but wasn't too much. To top off everything, you were wearing a sneaker to keep it casual. But the way you wore Fernando's name on your body – front and back, sparkled in his colors, and carried his brand proudly, you were anything but "casual".

As soon as Fernando entered the garage, he noticed you. But he had to look twice just to make sure you were really there because he was not used to seeing you around. Although he made no secret of you, he was very aware of how much you tried to avoid the public. He could understand that you were suffering with your own demons, and he knew exactly how harsh the media could be on F1 drivers and their loved ones.  

But at that moment, he didn't care about anything or anyone. Just you. And all he felt was pride. You were a perfect fit. His perfect fit. And the fact that you were wearing Aston Martin colors, and his brand made his heart beat faster. Suddenly he didn't know what he was feeling.

The way he looked at you took your breath away for a moment. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room (even though it was half in the open air). The fire that flared up in Fernando's eyes was so intense, that you feared he would burn everyone alive. But mostly you.

Your feet rooted to the ground; you gulped as he strode confidently towards you.

"Mi vida," Fernando began, and leaving you no time to think, he pulled you close to him, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

In that moment you forgot that other people were standing around you. There were probably a few photos taken of you, but you didn't care. At that moment, it was just the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you to deepen the kiss.

Not only his eyes were fiery, but so was the passion he kissed with. There was almost no space left between the two of you as he pulled you shut to him, his hand holding your waist tightly.

Your tongues brushed against each other to have a taste. You almost moaned out loud at the sensation, and you knew you had to stop now, or you wouldn't be able to contain yourself. This man brought out emotions that you never had before. With him... Well, you were always horny, so to speak.

Your cheeks heated up at the thought of him taking you there and then, so you broke the kiss. You tilted your forehead to his.

"Nando," you said breathlessly. "People are watching."

"I don’t care, mi amor," he replied, his Spanish accent getting heavier, which tends to come out when he's very passionate or angry. You hoped it was the former. "Estoy tan contenta de verte," he murmured into your lips in Spanish. It meant he was very happy to see you. You have spent the last year trying to learn as much of the language as possible, which he of course appreciated. You were of a different nationality as well and English was your common language.

You learned a lot from him in bed. He was quite vocal – to say the least. Calling you pet names and talking through it… Enough, you thought to yourself, snapping out of your trans.

Fernando laughed at your expression and how easy it was to make you riled up just with a simple sentence. It was as if he could see inside your head. It was easy for him to read you. And he enjoyed teasing the hell out of you.

He pulled you closer to him for a hug and pressed a short kiss to your forehead.

"I'm really glad that you're here," he said once again, this time in English, squeezing you gently to mark his words. "And you look beautiful too," You hugged him around the waist, burying your face in his chest and taking in his intoxicating scent. The smell that always kept you going: something leathery and woody. It was very masculine, but somehow still comforting and reassuring. Thanks to Boss. They were doing God's work with this man.

"Here to support the best," you muttered into his shirt. You pulled away from him for a moment to look him in the eye. "I'm your biggest fan, I hope you know that." He loved the way you were looking up at him: the way you were glowing with love and desire. How your lips were swelled up after the kiss, how you stood there in the garage, proud to belong to him.

Alonso was like you. He hasn't felt that way about anyone for a very long time. And although he did everything he could for you, somehow it was very difficult for him to talk about his feelings. And not because he was ashamed of them or because he wasn't sure of himself – he was too sure of what he felt. And it frightened him. He was afraid to open up and might lose you. He was old enough to know what he wanted, and he didn't want to start over again with anyone else. All he wanted was you. In the end, somehow, he was still afraid. You had been together for about a year, but he was afraid to say those particular three words, even though he kept calling you "my love" and its synonyms in Spanish.

And at the moment as he looked at you… He was sure. He was sure he wanted you for the rest of his life and that you weren't his biggest fan, but more like vice versa. And he wanted to prove it to you.

He pulled you into his embrace once more.

"I know, mi amor," he mumbled into your hair and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. "I'll put myself out there, just for you," he added with a gentle chuckle. You squeezed him and then let him go, knowing how much he had to do before the race. You took a few steps back just to take him in, now there was even more determination in his eyes than before. Fernando was almost vibrating with excitement, knowing you were there to cheer and support him. And there was something in his eyes as well that made the butterflies in your stomach revive.

"I…" you wanted to say something, but how his eyes softened with tenderness made you speechless. He slowly reached for your hands, his fingertips gently caressing the soft skin of your palm.

"Can I take some photos of you guys?" suddenly one of the team members of Aston Martin popped between the two of you. He was clearly making some content for the team's social media channel and even though you were nervous, you somehow felt put together and wanted to support Fernando all the way. "You look so good together," he added with a soft smile. You tried to find lies in his eyes, but he seemed sincere. Maybe it's time to really believe that you're GOOD and that you looked great together. Fernando Alonso wasn't with you for nothing.

Fernando looked at you and waited for your approval. You nodded slightly and Alonso immediately pulled you to him by the waist.

"The best girl on the grid," Alonso said loudly and proudly, pushing a soft kiss to your temple. You couldn't help but smile at his affection and you pulled him closer to you as well, while the social media guy snapped a few pics.

After that, he showed you all the pictures. As Fernando looked at you in the photos, all his emotions were clear: his eyes radiated with love and respect. And you were definitely glowing next to him. The guy went on to show you some of the photos, eventually stopped when he had taken the two of you kissing. You indeed looked very good together.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he mumbled to himself. Fernando tensed for a moment next to you, waiting for any protest. But you didn't. You really did look good together and wanted nothing more than to show the two of you to the world.

"It’s okay," you started. "The pictures are really great," you reassured the guy and Fernando next to you loosened up. He pressed another kiss to your temple then took a few steps back.

"I'm sorry, mi amor, but I have to go now," he said. "Enjoy the race," Fernando added with a wink. That damn wink. And that damn smirk. Gosh, that will be the end of you. Pendejo.

You turned back towards the social media guy, and at that moment you realized that because of his interference, you didn't say out loud what you wanted to a few moments ago. You wanted to declare your love to Fernando for the very first time, out loud, but now you missed your chance…

"Can I take a few more of you, especially the shirt and nails?" he asked shyly, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You seem like a truly great soul who supports and respects Alonso, and I want to show that to the world," you were almost touched by his words. You were definitely genuine with Fernando and didn't want to use him for anything. You were just there because you were his greatest fan. And that was the best thing for you.

You nodded softly and you guys managed to make a full-on photoshoot in the end. You were surprised at how liberated you felt at the end, and you even chuckled and did some "model-poses."

"You're a natural," he chuckled but you soon stopped as the race began.

//

The race was very exciting. Full of overtaking and adrenaline. At the end of the race, Alonso managed to score P6, which is a very big word from Aston Martin these days. You couldn't help but be excited all the way through, expressing emotion and knowing you were going to be all over social media, but you didn't care. Because Fernando Alonso won. In your eyes that P6 was P1.

After the race, you ran up to him and hugged him. He still had his mask on, but you pressed a kiss to the plexiglass. Of course, the cameras were clicking around you, but you didn't care. Because you were incredibly happy, and you were glad for Alonso. And at that moment, that was all that mattered. If it didn't bother him that you were in every picture (and it probably didn't, because he'd asked you to come with him to the paddock countless times), why would it have bothered you?

In that moment you realized that even though you never said those three words, it was clear how you felt about each other. Alonso lifted you up as he celebrated.

"Yes, baby," he said then laughed. You loved it when he was so excited. And you couldn't wait to see what the new season would bring him under Newey's aegis.

//

A few hours after the race, you were sitting in your hotel room looking at your phone.

Social media, especially Aston Martin's official Instagram page, was full of you and Fernando. You couldn't stop smiling as you saw the hashtag #couplegoals and the many, many supportive comments from fans. What were you afraid of in the first place?

Sure, there will always be some people who don't like certain things, but the majority of commenters were supportive. At least, most of them. You locked your phone and looked out the window. You were thinking about everything that happened that day and you couldn't help but admire the wonderful view of the old town of Baku. You tried to take in every little detail, but your mind kept wandering back to how truly happy you looked at those pictures. And how you guys looked good together.

You let a soft sight as you snapped back to reality. You were waiting for Alonso and he was always on time. You were more the late type, but now you're well ahead of schedule. You wanted everything to be perfect. Not just for the night but for you as well. After the race, you took a thorough bath, did the typical "girly routine", used lotion, did your hair, your make-up... You wore his favorite perfume that made you both sweet and seductive – just to make sure he loses his mind. Then you put on an Aston Martin green evening dress that perfectly accentuated your figure and hid what you were less than happy with. That's how you were waiting for him as the two of you arranged to have dinner tonight to celebrate his placing. Just the two of you. You took your eyes off the city and slowly stood up and went to the full-length mirror in the corner of your bedroom to examine yourself.

You've smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on your dress, but you've looked quite nice – even you were satisfied, which is a big thing. You nodded to yourself, just when you heard a knock on your door.

Slowly you walked over and opened it. There stood Alonso, in all his glory. He was wearing a black shirt and a black suit. For some reason, the color combination looked very good on his skin. His stubble was short and thick, the hair was all set. You were instantly struck by the typical "Alonso scent", the leathery, woody, Boss-y fragrance. Gosh, he looked delightful. Your mouth almost watered at the sight.

But as he looked at you, he was the one taken aback. You looked like an angel in that green dress. And he was ready to be your demon in that black attire of his, to lead you into the dark mysteries of the night as his eyes locked with yours. You were like the perfect match for him: black and white, Ying and Yang to each other.

"Y/N," he basically growled, as he stepped closer to you, his accent heavy. He tried crossing the distance between the two of you. The emotions of the whole day were stirring inside him. As he stepped closer, you stepped back. He looked at you as if he were the hunter and you were his prey.

His eyes burned with a fire you'd probably never seen from him before. You were almost afraid that as soon as he got close to you, it would burn. And you weren't sure you didn't want to burn all the way.

As you stepped back, he stepped forward one more step, closing the door behind him.

The back-and-forth game continued until you got to the bed. As soon as your knee hit the thing, a truly devilish smile spread across Fernando's face. His eyes almost darkened, with only one thing in his mind: you. Oh, he wanted to explore every inch of you like he'd never done before.

Suddenly you didn’t know why, maybe because of the intensity of his gaze, you felt very shy. You felt almost naked even though you were fully dressed up. You were almost certain that he saw right through you and he could see your flaws and mistakes. At least, that's how you were with yourself. Because when it always came to "that", it was very hard to switch off and let go.

"Mi amor," he started. "Look at me!" he ordered, and you obeyed. Not that you could argue with that: he stepped closer to you to lift your chin, so you had to look him in the eye. He could read you like an open book. He knew your past, your traumas, your hurts. "I know you've suffered, but I don't want you to hide."

That sentence meant more to you than you knew. The knowledge that he saw you, like really saw you, that you didn't have to hide yourself from him, and that he accepted you as you are, said more than anything. You tried not to get emotional, but you couldn't help it as a single tear rolled out of your eye. Fernando slowly wiped it away with his finger.

His gaze became a touch gentler, his hand slid down your face, down your arm, all the way to your fingers. There he intertwined his with yours and slowly guided you to the mirror.

"What are you doing?" you asked quietly.

"Trust me," he said confidently, as you stood in front of the mirror. The mirror was tilted a little so you could see both of your figures quite well.  "You are the one," he whispered softly to your ear from behind.

You shivered a little, then let go and leaned against his chest. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the way Fernando stroked your arm again, from the bottom all the way up to your neck.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly, leaning your head back to his shoulder.

"As I said, mi amor," the words rolled out of his tongue. "You're the one for me." You opened your eyes and again met that burning look in the mirror as he held your gaze. "I love you, Y/N, just the way you are," he admitted. "Completely and utterly."

The air caught in your throat at the confession. You looked at him with eyes full of emotion, then turned in his arms so that you were face to face with him.

You tried to analyze every little movement of his. Was it true? All the alarm bells went off in your head, but you wanted to believe it. And he seemed sincere. You deserve to be happy too, so it's time to give yourself to it.

 "I love you so much, it almost hurts," you confessed as well. Fernando grabbed the fabric of your dress, it was really hard for him to contain himself. His lips hovered just a few inches above yours.

His chest tightened at the sound of your words, and he could barely restrain himself from taking you at that moment. But he wanted to make sure you felt worshipped and loved – just how you deserved it.

He brushed his lips against yours, looking at your reaction. Your breath hitched in your throat, and he loved the sight of it. He wanted you to see it as well. He wanted you to see how he makes you react. And how he makes you feel good.

He firmly but gently started to turn your hips between his hands. He encouraged you to turn back, so his chest could face your back and you could see yourself in the mirror once again.

"I'm only going to say this once, mi amor," he began, running his hand down your arm again. His voice was firm and dominant. You just loved it when he was like that with you. You knew deep down he was devoted and wanted only good things for you. "Keep your eyes on me," he said in the mirror. "I know it's hard," he added. "But can you do it for me, princess?"

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Así amor," he murmured into your neck.

He placed a slow kiss on the back of your neck, then moved his hand lower, now on your hip. There he firmly grabbed the dress and almost ripped it off you so that now you were standing in front of the mirror in just your underwear. As he saw the black lace piece, another growl erupted from his throat.

"Mierda," he cussed at the sight of you. You would have preferred to hide. You didn't want to tear yourself away from his gaze, but you didn't want to look at yourself either.

Just like he could read your mind he said: "You're beautiful," sliding his hand from your waist to your stomach, so that he could slowly slip his hand inside your panties. "What did I say, mi amor?" he asked in a dominant voice, suddenly stopping in his movements.

You knew exactly what he meant: you swallowed hard. Once again.

"To look at you," you answered, searching for his eyes again. As your gazes interlaced, he began to move his hands once again.

"Así es," he whispered softly into your neck, then left a hot trail of kisses behind. At the same time, he started to move his fingers skillfully, reaching for the perfect spot: where he could feel your aching desire for him. The need started to pool between your legs larger and larger.

You wanted to close your eyes and lean back to him, to lose fully to the sensation but you knew him just well enough that if you would do that he would stop. He kept eye contact while his fingers were deep inside you. The demon in black, your demon who wanted nothing but to make his angel come undone at his touch and mercy.

"Nando," you whispered, as you looked at the two of you in the mirror.

"Sí, mi amor?" he asked, looking into your eyes while he kept his steady rhythm, collecting your wetness on his fingers, now pressing the end of his palm to your core. You bite down at your lower lips at the sensation, letting out a soft moan. "Use your words, princess," he smirked, knowing how hard it was to concentrate right now. He loved seeing you like this, and you loved the effect you had on him, as you could feel his hardness pressing against your behind. His intense gaze, his body, his touch, and his words almost sent you over the edge. Almost.

Then he suddenly stopped. You let out a frustrated breath and you get a chuckle in return.

"I…" you gasped and then shut up.

"Sí, mi amor?" he asked once again, tilting his head to the side as he was looking at you in the mirror. You desperately craved some friction, you even tried to rub together your thighs, but nothing helped.

"I…" you started once again, and he looked at you with encouraging eyes. "I want to…" your cheeks heated up at your words and you didn't even know why. "I want to cum." you finally managed to blurt out. 

He let out a chuckle, grabbing your hips with one of his hands and he slid back his other under your panties.

"Was it so hard, princessa?" he asked, and he started using his fingers again. This time more passionately and faster. With one hand you grabbed Fernando's forearm while still trying to keep your eyes on him. "That’s it," he told you as he tried to help you finally push over the line. He knew how much you loved him when he talked you through it. "I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come undone for me," he whispered into your ear and that's what it took. You shook in his arms as you finally reached the highest highs, fireworks playing before your eyes and at this point, you couldn't help but close your eyes. Your feelings for him, his voice, his touch – it was just too much. You suddenly stumbled, but he was there to catch you. And he always will be.

"That's it, mi amor," he whispered, holding you close to him, while he pressed soft kisses to your neck as he guided you through your high.

For a few moments, you stayed in silence. Then he spoke: "I'm your biggest fan, I hope you know that," he repeated your words from earlier. Your chest tightened at his confession, and you turned in his embrace, now facing him. A soft and loving smile played on your lips as you pulled yourself closer to him.

“But you’re the one who won, we should celebrate you,” you said mischievously. You started to push him back towards the bed where he sat down, so you could straddle him. Fernando groaned as he felt you move against him. His whole body was becoming hard.

“Oh, we will celebrate, mi vida,” he chuckled darkly. “All. Night. Long.” he said and kissed you with so much passion that it consumed the two of you. Each one was like a promise, a seal, a mark for your happiness and a long, prosperous future together.

[struwberrii]

last train home ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

suna rintaro x gn!reader

you were out in the city, running some errands and losing track of time. you had stopped by a bakery to get yourself some snacks for later that night and then decided you should probably make your way back to the train station before it was too late. the sun had set a while ago and your phone was saying it was almost 9pm. way too late to your liking. you slid your phone back in your pocket and focused on finding your way back to the train station.

after a few minutes of walking you noticed a familiar silhouette ahead of you. it wasn’t hard to point him out since the streets had cleared quite a bit as it got later, but you still waiting til you got closer to confirm if it was him or not. suna rintaro. you and suna were never super close. you’d spoken a few times and all your conversations were pleasant, but you never reached out to each other outside of class work.

you were actually relieved to see him, he lives in the same town as you so if he was also making his way home, you’d probably be able to ride the train with him and avoid any creepy encounters, i mean suna looked pretty intimidating, right? no way any creeps would try something if they saw you were riding the train with a guy, especially a guy as fit and muscular… and handsome as suna, right?

you quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you got closer to him. he didn’t seem to be headed towards the train station though. he was just standing on the side walk typing away on his phone. he must’ve felt you staring at him because eventually he looked over in your direction, watching you walk closer and closer to him. he turned his phone off and slipped it in his pocket.

“why are you out so late?”

‘not a hi, not a how are you? just straight to the point’ you thought

“i lost track of time shopping” you replied quickly, you opened your mouth to pop the question but he beat you to it, except you weren’t expecting him to say what he said

“you know you missed the last train right” he said practically smirking at you as if it were a funny thing. you pulled out your phone and checked the time

9:08PM

“shit” you said clicking your tongue. you really didn’t want to pay a gillion dollars for an uber home, especially after spending so much money in the city, then you remembered suna. he lived around the corner from you so he would’ve had to take the same train, how was he getting home?

“i can give you a ride” his voice sounding almost angelic all of a sudden, and you could’ve sworn you saw a halo over his head for a second.

“on my scooter”

the halo vanished quickly, along with your smile.

“i’m joking, you wanna ride?” he said motioning to a black car parked a few steps behind the two of you on the side of the street. his car looked so new, you were not expecting that.

“thank you so much! that would be great” you smiled at him and followed him over to his car. the smell of earthy pine tree air freshener flooded your nose, it was surprisingly pleasant though.

you both situated yourselves in the car and he began to drive.

the ride was painfully silent at first, he didn’t even turn on the radio. just the sound the open road. you decided to break the silence.

“i didn’t know you drive” you said mentally face palming yourself and praying you didn’t sound stupid

“i usually don’t, i came out to buy a new coffee maker though” he said motioning to his back seat where a big coffee machine box sat atop the cushions.

“you want the aux?” he motioned towards the white auxiliary cord that sat between the two of you on the cars console. you shook your head no in response, scared he wouldn’t like your music taste. he then shrugged in response and turned on his music.

to your surprise it was a song by one of your favorite bands.

“woah, i love this band!” you said cheerfully pointing at the screen where the songs cover art and title was displayed.

“really? you didn’t strike me as the [fav music genre teehee] type” he said smiling a bit. the two of you discussed your favorite songs by the band and similar artists you liked. the 35 minute car ride flew by so quickly.

“is this you?” he said as he slowed down next to your apartment complex. you nodded and gathered your bags.

“thank you so much suna, i’ll see you around” you smiled at him.

“wait” he said grabbing your wrist lightly before you could fully get out of the car.

“could i get your number? maybe we could make each other a playlist, you have really good taste” he said a bit more shyly compared to your earlier conversation.

you happily exchanged numbers and a few minutes later you received a text from an unknown number

[you make it back ok?]

this text resulted in the two of you staying up til 2 texting about music, sending each other playlists, joking around and playing imessage games :)

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

i might re write this, it’s literally 4am and i randomly had this idea and wanted to write it but i didn’t write it exactly how i wanted it to and now i feel like it’s just all over the place 😭😭 pt.2 where i write while conscious :3

[sanarkeo]

they can’t love you like i love you

nayeon wants to show her girl off to the world.

alternatively: look at you getting fucked by someone you barely know on your first date!! nayeon x reader smut - exhibitionism - humiliation - dom!nayeon w sub!reader - idol!nayeon w idol!reader - power dynamics? unnie kink sorry lol... 4+k words long for some reason

-

it all started at music bank a week into your group’s promotions for the new title track, when your manager entered the waiting room and yelled out that she had a surprise for all of you. you looked up from your phone just as the hairstylist had fixed your bangs and shot an intrigued look over to your closest friend in the group. she raised her eyebrows at you and mouthed: “twice?”

you knew then that it was all over for you.

even being at the music program today, occupying the same building as them brought you a rush you’d only felt going up on a stage and seeing a thousand fans gush over you. you were finally going to be able to meet them, actually meet them. not smile and wave from afar. you could finally talk about how much they’d inspired you, even take a picture with them. but you’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart wasn’t in full on palpitation mode thinking about finally seeing your favorite girl face to face like this.

you’d even set her as your lockscreen for god’s sake. but maybe then the rumors were true and her face does bring good luck or whatever. embarrassed just wondering what’d happen if she ever saw it, you shoved it into the shallow pocket of the tightest mini skirt the stylists could’ve fit you into and left the room with your members.

the meeting with twice was brief and took place in the most random of kbs corridors. most of what you’d remembered of it was tripping over your words, bowing a bit too much and too fervently, and staring at how gorgeous they looked in person. seeing them in concert was nothing like this.

“congratulations on your new song!” sana shrieked, pulling your leader into a hug and beaming at the rest of you. “ah, i love seeing juniors with so much passion!”

they took turns wishing your group the best and exchanging some encouraging words. you were avoiding eye contact with one of the girls in fear you’d combust, but felt her gaze lay heavily on you. The way im nayeon stared you down stirred something in your stomach and made your fingertips tremble against the copies of signed albums.

Unlike jihyo or dahyun, she barely said a word beyond the niceties. Which was odd, because nayeon was nayeon. Her expression was fixed and ambiguous, and you swore at yourself for giving into looking her up and down. She was wearing that outfit from the concept photos. the one with that fucking jacket and the tube top and that skirt. nayeon had her gloved hands on her hips and you had to tear your eyes away, afraid of letting your stare wander too much.

when your manager signalled for the group to get to rehearsals, you hurried to bow once more with your members and hastily presented the signed albums to twice. when you gave a copy to nayeon, she accepted it with both hands and a closed smile.

“thank you, y/n-ah~”

you turned on your heels and ran back to the waiting room to get ready. your members teased you for how pink your face had turned even with all your makeup on.

-

when filming was done, your body felt the pressure of the late nights and intense practices come crashing through. you were just glad you’d be able to get a full night’s sleep. stepping into the waiting room ready to change back into your clothes, the sight of your manager glowering at you made you wince.

“how many times do you have to lose your phone? you know, twice’s manager had to come all the way here to hand it to me.”

she sighed and handed you your phone, now with long, deep cracks sustained from a corner - it must’ve fallen out of your pocket while you were running.

you and half your members got into a van to get back to the dorms. as soon as you settled into your seat and got comfortable though, they started to take sneaky glances at each other and giggled.

“i used to think you liked nayeon-sunbaenim too much but i think she actually likes you back,” one of them teased.

“oh my god, did you see how she was looking at you?”

“or maybe she hates you somehow? either way, even i began blushing…”

“-please, please, please guys i think she was just like ill or something.” you were tired, sure, but the annoyance also had something to do with wanting to never think about the stray possibility of her liking you at all. you turned on your phone to send a text to a friend when you saw it. just as you were going to attach some pictures, you were greeted with a flood of selfies of nayeon.

you first raised an eyebrow at your members who were also busy on their phones, as if they played some lame prank on you. but you soon realised that you’d never seen those nayeon selfies before (you were surprisingly on top of twice content for someone who clocked an average of 4 hours of sleep), and that those selfies looked really fucking recent. taken today, recent.

there she was, standing in front of a bathroom mirror, your phone looking small in her hand, a thumb slipped under the waistband, pulling it ever so slightly down. as soon as you saw it, you dropped your phone onto your lap and took a deep breath. nayeon found your phone, nayeon took your phone, nayeon saw your lockscreen and nayeon used your phone to take insanely hot mirror selfies in the kbs bathroom.

all the other images you flicked through were just slight variations of the first, till you landed on a short video. playing it, you saw nayeon moving your phone back and forth from the mirror as she cycled through an array of poses, mouthing… something?

one of your favorite things about im nayeon was how she could sing like an absolute angel, light and airy, while having this depth and hoarseness in her speech. you pressed the speaker against your ear and upped the volume ever so slightly. the sound of her voice, nearly whispering, soft and sultry, forced a sigh out of you. you’d thought she was just spewing random numbers, which you would’ve accepted anyway, but then it hit you.

it was her number.

-

you [9:01 pm]

hello?

nayeon [9:05 pm]

what took you so long?

-

before your first date, all she’d given you was a date, a time, and an instruction: wait for me outside your building. the surprise in it made your breath hitch as you stepped out the front door to your dorm. the fact that you kept it a secret from your members and managers gave it the mildest sense of danger you craved after years of obedience. when you got down to the entrance, you saw nayeon leaned against her coupe in an off the shoulder midi and heels.

“you got down here a lil early… you this eager for our date?”

in an instant, your cheeks flushed red. first, because in the 3 weeks you’d been texting each other, you must’ve forgotten how beautiful she looked in person. then, because you looked down at yourself and realized how underdressed you were. nayeon clocked this, and you didn’t notice how she tried her best to resist smirking.

“sorry, umm… i didn’t know we were going somewhere fancy…”

it didn’t click that maybe she’d left that bit out intentionally.

“don’t worry babe, a pretty face like yours doesn’t need a flashy dress to make an impression.”

she opened the door for you then got into the driver’s seat. all the way to the restaurant, you held in the urge to ask her to keep her eyes on the road. it was surreal. being in im nayeon’s car and her driving you to your first date at a restaurant you could hardly afford on your rookie checks. her looking into your eyes, staring at your body like she’d eat you whole.

you’d admit you felt uncomfortably warm as she cursed out other drivers. you’d admit you leaked through your underwear when she gripped your bare thigh with her left hand and drew lines with her thumb. you felt her grip loosen and her fingers trace your thigh higher and higher until she pulled it back to hold the wheel.

“ahh! we’re just around the corner. i hope you like french food?”

-

you had a curfew, you had dozens of unanswered texts and yet you were tipsy in im nayeon’s apartment. putting down your glass of wine on her coffee table, you looked over at her floor-to-ceiling windows - a view of the han river at midnight framed perfectly - and shook your head at your stupidity.

your leader might kill you. your company could set your contract on fire.

then, you turned and saw nayeon there, bathed in yellow light, head propped against her hand, biting her bottom lip.

“thank you for tonight,” she said and set her glass down to take your hand and stroke the back of it gently with her thumb.

your leader was going to kill you. your contract was up in flames. whatever.

throughout dinner, all that initial embarrassment of feeling out of place in a dimly lit restaurant full of finely plated dishes and women decked out in jewelry, died down and was replaced by a heat that grew up your neck and between your legs. nayeon made you feel like you were the only girl in the room. like you were worthy of everything. like you were beautiful and good. you tried to play it cool but when she got the bill and asked you if you wanted to come over to her place, you’d never felt more easy in your life.

so there you were, the wine’s acidity coating your tongue, your throat dry, just craving her lips that were parted slightly, right in front of you.

“why did you give me your number?” you asked.

“because.”

nayeon licked her lips and you wondered how desperate you looked at that moment.

“and… and why did you take all those pictures?”

as brazen as nayeon was, you still caught her sheepish smile when it appeared for the briefest moment.

“i knew i had to have you from the moment i laid eyes on you.”

you didn’t know then how long she’d actually kept tabs on you for. she scooted closer and intertwined her fingers in yours, never once breaking eye contact. the smell of bergamot and citrus was intoxicating.

“and it worked didn’t it, babe?”

you hummed in agreement and tore your gaze away from her. but your sight landed on her cleavage and you turned dumb. at once, nayeon lifted up your chin and chuckled, just knowing how much you wanted her.

“texting me straight away like a good girl?"

“i had to.”

nayeon exhaled, closed her eyes and moved her hands to your hips.

“such a good girl for me.”

she kissed you and you never realized how soft lips could be. you laid your arms on her shoulders as she slid her tongue between your teeth, then sucked on your bottom lip till it was sore. when you shifted, you felt how wet you were getting just fantasizing about what that tongue could do to you.

when she pulled away, you saw the desire set deep in her eyes. she tilted her head and sunk her teeth onto your neck. she sucked and licked on your sensitive skin, and you didn’t notice how her hands got under your blouse. you were so sure she’d leave hickeys (and what will you even tell your makeup artists tomorrow?), but the way nayeon’s fingertips traced the curves of your waist left goosebumps on your thighs.

“i-i don’t think i should stay overnight though,” you whined, helping nayeon take off your blouse. “i’m already in so much trouble unnie.”

her bunny-toothed grin appeared as soon as you said that last word and she hurried to get your bra off. “don’t worry, unnie will take care of you.” she tossed your bra aside and steadied her breath staring at your tits. “fuck,” she breathed. “i wish all of seoul could see them.”

she played with your nipples for a while before wrapping her lips around one of them. you threw your head back and moaned, feeling her tongue flick at it and encircle it. she planted kisses across your chest making her way to your other breast and slipped her hands beneath the band of your skirt. you resisted the urge to just spread your legs wide open for her when she pulled it down. you never felt more like a slut than then.

after you kicked the skirt to the side, nayeon kissed you and you whimpered into her mouth. “can i taste you?” she asked, and you nodded and ogled at how the pinkness of her full cheeks spread to her nose.

you squirmed in your seat as you watched her carelessly push back her coffee table and get on her knees. it was mesmerizing seeing her fix her bangs the same way she’d always done when you watched her vlogs or interviews, except this time it was in person, and this time, she’d done it before forcefully dragging you closer to the edge of the sofa.

“fuck…” she groaned. ever since she saw you in that mini skirt, she’d been touching herself to the thought of taking it off of you. now you were in front of her, legs inching apart somewhat unconsciously, she was going to have you. all of you. with your underwear still on, she pressed your thighs further back and took a second to admire the sight of you.

“you’re so wet.” nayeon smirked and dragged her tongue from the bottom of your slit to your clit, the friction from the fabric driving you insane. “so wet for me.” she nearly tore your panties forcing it off of you.

she parted your pussy lips with her long fingers and lapped at your cunt with broad strokes. you writhed and wriggled, sobbing at the way her thick tongue moved onto brushing back and forth over your clit.

“nay-nayeon unnie…”

you bit your lip and looked down, catching her gazing up at you like she was going to devour you. you moaned with each shape she drew with the tip of her tongue.

“my little slut got wet even on the drive over to the restaurant right?”

her tongue teased at your hole, dripping with juices, then sunk into it. you tried moving your hips, grinding against her face to get more of it in, wanting so badly to be filled with her warmth.

“mmh…”

“what a slut,” she muttered, pulling away.

nayeon stood up and ordered you to do the same. she grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you to the window. instinctively, you tried to cover yourself up with your hands and angled your body to the side, nervous at who in those officetels and apartments across the river could’ve seen you.

“no, no,” she said in a low voice, getting behind you and taking your hands in hers, exposing you to the skyline of east seoul. you knew the odds were tiny, but reddened uncontrollably at the thought of some stranger being able to watch. your reputation could’ve been wiped just like that. everyone could’ve found out how much of a slut you were for nayeon. yet, she gently pushed your shoulders down and you obediently took that as a cue to kneel.

“what if someone sees?”

nayeon sighed and sat down, her thighs holding you in place, her clothed chest pressed against your bare back. “you’ll put on a show for them then,” she whispered, and gestured for you to sit down. “you’re good at that aren’t you?”

she forced your legs open, but you tried resisting even to come across faintly as having some sense of dignity. digging her nails into your skin, nayeon spread your legs wide open and you instantly felt the cold air on your pussy again. looking down at all those tiny cars stuck in traffic, at all the red and yellow lights of the city, you shuddered but gulped your doubts straight down. as one of her hands slid down your chest to your abs and finally to your needy pussy, the other groped your breast and rubbed your nipple between a finger and a thumb.

you couldn’t get over how warm and smooth her touch was. she rested her chin on your shoulder and you felt her lips hover behind your ear. “baby, i want the whole world to see you get fucked.”

the moment her fingers skimmed over your clit, you jerked your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and whined. she giggled right in your ear and you felt a wave of tingles run down the small of your back. the image of her eating you out was still burned into your mind.

this was the first time you thought that maybe she just liked to torture you, enjoyed the tension in your thighs as you tried your best to keep them apart. not squeeze them together to get a little more pleasure like a bitch in heat. no, you had more patience than that. just enough to to be able to feel the rise and fall of her chest on your back and not collapse to her feet, pleading to be fucked.

with her index and middle fingers, she slowly parted your folds and you heard the subtle sound of her smacking her lips. “such a pretty pink pussy. i can’t wait to ruin you. can’t wait to hear you beg and cry.” nayeon smacked your cunt and removed a hand from your tits to squeeze your cheeks as you winced in pain. “what do you want? say it.”

“i want you…”

she spanked your pussy again.

“you want unnie to what?”

“i want you use my holes and fuck me like i’m your fuck toy!”

just like that, the pent up horniness from nights wasted fingering yourself senseless to imagined scenarios with her spilled right out. you couldn’t tell how badly that sent her on a power trip, but you had somewhat of an idea. because nayeon dragged her fingers up and down your pussy like it was fucking nothing at all then shoved them so far down your mouth you felt them at the back of your throat.

“suck it,” she ordered.

you obeyed her and wrapped your tongue around the salty slickness of her fingers. you bobbed your head up and down, coating their entire length in your spit. all you could think about was them ripping you open. how she so easily held your tits in the palm of her hand. how much more they would stretch your pussy out than your own fingers.

she pulled them out of your greedy mouth and deftly brought them to your entrance. her fingertips dipped in and out like she was testing you, and the frustration nearly made you break free from her hold.

“please, please, please agh… please fuck me, please!”

she kissed your cheek and held your throat in her free hand. “if you say so,” she quipped, and thrust two of her fingers deep into your hole. she plunged into you fast and hard, you were just dumbstruck at how much they filled you up. she curled her fingers to hit your walls at an angle that made you see stars. your breathing grew ragged as she picked up the pace. nayeon’s grip on your throat tightened and you felt yourself reaching a point where you were so blissed out you would’ve done anything to keep her fucking you at that tempo.

“f-fuck me, fuck oh fuck, please i need you, i need more of you-”

without another word, she forced another finger into you and grunted at how tight you felt, clenched around them. “oh my god, you’re so tight for me,” she sneered, the thought of you feeling so vulnerable and small in her hands made her feel ecstatic. at that point, your brain was mush, and every word that left your tongue was some form of: please, fuck, more, or deeper.

“what was that? d’you want me to slow down honey?” she taunted, and drew her fingers back ever so leisurely. the pressure that was building down in you dissipated and you couldn’t help but grasp at her forearm.

“no- no i was gonna- nayeon… fuck!” you felt tears form and the corners of your eyes. how miserable you must’ve looked to anyone who might’ve peered into the window to see you just there, grinding and fucking onto her unmoving hand until it disappeared. her other hand still on your throat, she shoved you down so you were on all fours.

“you can’t cum now, no, not just yet,” she near growled in your ear. she pushed you around and shifted till your ass was up and facing out onto the skyline. it hadn’t crossed your mind until that night how thrilling it was being treated like a piece of meat in nayeon’s hands. your knees and arms yelped at the cold hard marble tiles, but your belly was hot against the silkyness of her thighs.

then, a hard spank landed on your ass cheek. you shrieked but why were you sticking your ass out even more after that? nayeon massaged your ass and rubbed down to the back of your upper thigh.

“i feel so sorry for giving such a good girl such a bad punishment, but i couldn’t stop myself…” she slapped your ass harder this time and you felt the heat and the pinkness form on your skin. “should i? should i stop?”

you shook your head.

“spank me and fuck me until i’m sore,” you sniffled and rested your cheek on the ground.

nayeon shoved all three fingers back into your sopping wet cunt and pistoned them in and out. the only times she’d ever paused for second were to land a slap on your ass. it stung like hell and each subsequent smack made your clit that bit more sensitive to the accidental brushes of her knuckles.

with every pump deeper into you, nayeon felt your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around her fingers. her arms grew tired and yet she just went faster, knowing how close you were getting.

“cum for me baby, cum for unnie.”

as another smack landed on you, the searing pain combined with the overwhelming pleasure was almost too much to handle. your breath hitched and you clawed at the tiles, nayeon’s pace becoming so unforgiving that you just had to-

“fuck- oh fuck! i’m gonna-”

nayeon nearly came to the sound of your scream. you came so hard you felt like your eyes had rolled back into your skull. speechless, shaking, shivering, even when you felt so overstimulated just having her still fingers inside of you, you could only swipe at her arm. feeling liquid stream down your thigh, you whimpered.

when nayeon pulled your exposed form into her arms, you were enveloped in her warmth and her scent. wordlessly, she rubbed your back and planted tender kisses on your shoulder, up to your jawline and onto your lips.

“i like you,” she confessed. and though it sounded so simple and so light, it gave you butterflies.

she cleared her throat and picked you up. you were initially surprised at how strong she was, then blushed when you thought about the definition in her muscles as she fucked you. she kicked open the door to her bedroom and softly laid you onto her bed. tucking you under her heavy blanket, she gave your forehead a peck and slid into the other side. with how dim the lighting was, you could barely make out how nayeon was just looking at you with a goofy smile plastered on her face.

“i like you too,” you admitted. she stroked your cheek and hummed in contentment. you looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of the time on her clock. “fuck. my-my manager, i need to let them know i-”

“shh, shh… darling please don’t worry.” all that fear and anxiety was washed away when nayeon shushed you.

“i’ll handle it, princess.”

-

rahhh first fic! lemme know what you think :D i might continue it but we'll see how it goes... title inspired by underwater by red velvet hehe

[kny-ficsss]

I'll put the ring on when you ready

Synopsis: Your husband, the cold and calculating billionaire Muzan Kibutsuji, has a tradition that you can’t help but indulge him in.

Characters: Muzan Kibutsuji, black!fem!reader

Pairing: Muzan x black!fem!reader (established)

Setting: Modern AU

WC: 473

Note: The title is lyrics from a song.

Note 2: this is my first time writing for Muzan! Please let me know how I did!

Sitting at your vanity, having already done your makeup, curled your silk press, and gotten dressed, you were ready for whatever the day had in store for you.

Well, almost.

Looking in the jewelry box, your eyes took in the familiar pieces of jewelry you owned: necklaces, bracelets, anklets, earrings and rings. Some were silver but a majority of them were gold, since you liked how they complimented your brown skin. Such as your love ring from Cartier which had the gem of your birthday embedded in it. Just like the earrings you had put in.

Both were presents that Muzan had gifted you on your birthday.

But there was one piece of jewelry that you treasured the most and it wasn’t in its usual place, separated from the rest of the jewelry: your wedding ring.

Where was it? You didn’t misplace it.

And it couldn’t have been stolen.

None of the maids would enter the master bedroom, where you and Muzan slept, without expressed permission from either you or him.

Lest they wanted to incur Muzan’s wrath.

Speaking of your husband…

Perhaps he knew what happened to your wedding ring. Just as you reached for your phone and entered the passcode, you felt a familiar presence behind you, a familiar weight on your shoulders. The hands of your husband. Looking in the mirror, his crimson gaze met your own, his normal cold and gaze, softened at the sight of you.

“Good morning, beloved.”

“Morning, Muzan.”

“Looking for something?” Muzan’s sixth sense of whenever you were looking for something or when you just needed something in general had been unnerving in the beginning of your relationship with him. Just like his silent footsteps. But now, you are used to it.

“Actually, yes. My wedding ring. Do you have it?”

“I do.” His tone was nonchalant, as if he was discussing something mundane, like the weather. “Won’t you indulge me in this tradition of mine, beloved?”

Whenever you took off your wedding ring for whatever reason, Muzan always wanted to be the one to put it back on your ring finger. And if he couldn’t, then it would lead to him being irritable during the day, until he could.

And you could deny him, of course. But you didn’t. There was something intimate about this small tradition between the two of you.

“Of course, Muzan.”

Giving you a soft smile, Muzan reached into the pocket of his suit and took out your wedding ring and slid it onto your ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Like always.

“I adore you.”

“I love you too, Muzan.”

[chornayadrakoshig]

Aelita sleeping in the tower!

Well it was a fun experiment with the masking fluid but either I'm too impatient or the paper wasn't the best fit for it but I actually had to glue back top layer of paper when it ripped, thankfully it's not super noticeable both irl and on scan but god it gave me a scare the other day *melting face*

But I had some fun with putting the title of the song in byte format in the background! I should've estimated the required space better but I still love it (damn it was tedious!!)

[mask-of-prime]

VG Bonus Art: Friendly Fire

Synopsis: Vitani is overwhelmed from trying to wrangle her disputing Lion Guard and tending the needs of on-edge Pridelanders terrorized by foes. On top of that, Vitani and Nuka's spirits have been fused for far too long until the possession becomes a parasitic inconvenience. The Fiercest, highly stressed and agitated, has been fueling her newly-found Fire Roar to the point where she can't control it, and neither can Nuka. At some point, the fire evolves into destructive, molten lava -- a new power she'd discovered on her own. Will her Lion Guard find a way to extract Nuka's spirit and cool her tumultuous temper?

It's, well... pretty past Halloween, now, but it is a special day nonetheless, it's the 5th Anniversary of when Vitani and her pals officially became the new Lion Guard (Return to the Pride Lands was aired on TV on November 3rd, September 2nd was their DisneyNOW/WatchTLG release). So I guess I'm celebrating the anniversary of them becoming a team by... tearing them apart...?

I have no idea if this would be an AU or if I can actually manage to fit this into the Vitani's Guard storyline somehow. Come to think of it, it kinda makes me imagine if Nuka's spirit would've remained within Vitani the first time they ever fused, like if a prolonged possession lasted several episodes/chapters (I wanna say the duration of Shouting Match to Speed Run?) until it became too much for both of them, disaster ensues in a manner typical of tropey werewolf episodes of cartoons, or at worst, an Akira type of disaster in which aggravated emotions and emotionally-charged supernatural powers fight each other to make for some gruesome body horror visuals (in this case, becoming a living volcano).

The lava dripping from Vitani's mouth lowkey reminds me of rabies, maybe this constitutes as an Infection AU like what everyone's been doing lately? lol

The title is a pun on the term "friendly fire" meaning to kill or harm a soldier who's on your side (Shabaha here seems to have been on the receiving end of that). I became aware of the term after the release of a Linkin Park song of the same name.

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[sundrop-writes]

Ghosting

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you.

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

Word Count: 3,700

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic contains major spoilers for the film - so if you haven't watched it yet and you're just here for Josh Hutcherson being sad and beautiful (and if you want to watch the film unspoiled) be warned; this fic does use Y/N; this fic is almost pure angst - the beginning is fluffy, but that only exists to make the angst hurt more; this fic does not have a happy ending; hurt, no comfort; this fic has mentions of Mike's past traumas and him having symptoms of PTSD; the reader is a mother figure to Abby; Mike refers to the reader as his 'wife' (in his mind, not in dialogue); Mike is in love with the reader (and it's implied that she knows this/can sense his feelings) but he doesn't get a chance to actually confess to her and they aren't in a romantic relationship at any point during this fic; (uh, kind of spoiler for the fic but this was in the prompt/request) - major character death: the reader character dies after being stabbed by Springtrap/William Afton/The Yellow Rabbit (gotta love fnaf - when a character has that many names); mentions of blood; descriptions of violence - descriptions of the fight between Afton and Mike, descriptions of the reader being stabbed by Afton; Abby is there to witness the reader's death; idk what the other warnings are aside from major angst - this will be an emotional gut punch. Anyway, please enjoy it lmao.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from the song Ghosting by Mother Mother. I was listening to different songs trying to pick a title, and I really like how this one fits. How their romantic love was like a ghost in their lives - not discussed, but felt between the both of them, and after she's gone, she becomes a ghost in his life.

...

Mike woke up to the smell of pancakes. 

Typically, mornings were his least favorite time of day. Seeing as he was the kind of person who didn’t sleep well, didn’t sleep at all, or found himself consumed by nightmares when he did - most mornings, he was too tired to comprehend the world around him. Mornings were a chaotic mess for him as he tried to pull himself back from the brink of insanity while operating his sluggish body with far too little energy until he got some coffee into his system. He came to resent mornings, as for him, they existed only in a dreadful haze. 

And he rarely ate a proper breakfast because of it. Most of the time, his ‘breakfast’ consisted of a large cup of coffee and a few pieces of Eggo waffle that he would snag off of Abby’s plate going out the door as he scolded her for not finishing it all. 

The second that the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food reached his nose, his stomach growled. 

Through the sleepy fog of his brain, hearing voices - multiple voices - coming from down the hallway, he realized that it wasn’t just Abby and some muffled cartoon characters from the TV. 

“Which one?” Abby posed, her voice bright and curious as ever. 

“Personally… I like the red sweater. It matches the red laces in the shoes you picked,” You replied, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sizzling of the pan. 

You were helping her pick out her clothes. Abby would have never wanted Mike’s help on the subject. So often she scoffed at him if he suggested that he could help her put her hair in a ponytail or if he told her that she should put on a jacket if it was cold outside. But she asked you for your advice about clothes because she admired you. She thought you were pretty, as she had told Mike on multiple occasions (not so subtly hinting that he should date you). 

Mike heard footsteps thundering down the hallway as Abby rushed to her room to get dressed, likely carting along the clothes you had helped to pick. He distantly wondered how you had gotten into the house before he was even awake. 

And then, he remembered - a few weeks ago, he had given you a key to his place. 

It was something that had come after he had accidentally locked his own set of keys in the car, his mind jumbled and forgetful after not having much sleep the night before. And with the evening ticking on and the takeout you had picked up for the three of you quickly getting cold in your hands (everyone eager to simply get into the house and eat) - Mike had been hit with the realization that any solutions to unlock the car - the spare key, a metal coat hanger, a phone to call a mechanic - were all locked in the house. 

So he had hoisted Abby in through her bedroom window (after scolding her for not locking it) and gotten her to unlock the front door. And shortly after that, he had given you a house key, because generally, you were better with things like that. 

You were much more organized - your mind a clear, calm palace compared to the chaos that Mike often found himself swamped in. You were someone who worked incredibly well under stress, and that was why Mike valued you so much in his life. Right from a childhood where the two of you had pulled pranks together and he had been copying your homework, to the time he had leaned on you during the initial stress of Garett’s disappearance - up until now. When he was a messy, disorganized adult who still needed you far more than he was ever willing to admit. 

It was just one of the many reasons he admired you so much. You took care of him in ways he couldn’t even put into words. 

He smiled to himself as he heard more of your chatter with Abby. Previously, he had remarked that the key was for ‘emergencies only’ - but he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about the breach of that rule as he tumbled out of bed. Especially when the smell of bacon also reached his nose as he walked to the bathroom. 

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he glanced at the clock and realized he was already running on the late side. Not too late yet, but he had to put some urgency in his step. He had somehow forgotten to set his alarm, today of all days, when he would be meeting with a career counselor after the disastrous incident that got him fired from the mall. 

He rushed down the hallway struggling with his tie, bringing his usual air of chaos with him. His heart instantly warmed at the sight of you and Abby - you had her sitting at the table, somehow so much more polite and cooperative for you, with a glass of juice beside her plate while you scooped freshly made pancakes onto it. 

“You know, usually when most people break and enter, they don’t make breakfast,” Mike commented, his voice cool and jovial as he grew increasingly frustrated with his tie. 

He thought he was forming the knot correctly, but it kept falling loose in his hands, causing a deep crease across his brows as he frowned at the fabric. 

You giggled at this - both at his words and at his obvious struggle. You put the pan on the counter as you walked toward him, leaving Abby to pick up the bottle of syrup and begin thoroughly drowning her pancakes while you weren’t looking. You knocked Mike’s hands away in that wordless kind of care and began calmly tying his tie. 

“Well, I considered going the traditional route, but there’s nothing worth stealing here.” You remarked, playing off the banter that was only built between the two of you after years of friendship. “Plus, The Breakfast Burglar has such a nice ring to it.” 

“That makes it sound like you steal people’s breakfast.” Abby giggled. 

“I would, if certain little girls didn’t drown their pancakes in syrup.” You replied, not bothering to look over your shoulder at her to know what she was doing. “That’s enough, Abs.” 

She rolled her eyes harshly at this, but put the bottle of syrup down and picked up her knife and fork. 

Mike grinned widely at this. You were more like a mom to her than their own mother ever was. And the fact that you knew her so well and took care of her without question always brought him joy. 

His smile only widened when you smoothed a warm hand down the front of his chest, and he looked down to see a perfectly neat knot in the front of his tie. He felt a tingling swarm of butterflies in his stomach at your touch - something that threatened to spread through him and turn him into a dizzy, lovesick fool. Urgently, he needed to distract himself with something else. 

His eyes shifted over to the side table, and he realized that his keys weren’t where he usually threw them down when he got home. 

“Have you seen my-?” 

Once again, you were two steps ahead of him. More organized than him. 

“Keys.” You said, turning around to the counter and holding the key ring up on your fingers. “Your resume, formatted and printed.” You held up a folder that contained this as well. “Your wallet, and breakfast burrito.” 

You gathered up his wallet and a warm bundle wrapped in tinfoil - his breakfast. The small notion of caring, the fact that you thought ahead to make something he could eat while rushing out the door - it caused that dangerous tingle to overtake his stomach once again. As you crossed the room and placed all the items in his hands, he had the intense urge to lean over and kiss you - he knew the domesticity was crippling. 

You had been his best friend for years, you had helped him take care of Abby for as long as the little girl could remember. You felt more like a wife to him than anybody else ever would. 

And yet, you had absolutely no clue how he felt about you. It would have felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean over and kiss you goodbye before leaving - just like a husband would do with his wife. But the two of you weren’t married. You weren’t even dating. You took care of him because you were his best friend. Because you had always taken care of him the way a best friend should. 

“What would I do without you?” He said, knowing that the pure fondness in his voice could have easily given him away - if he didn’t talk to you like that all the time. 

“Hmm… probably run around naked and starving,” You chuckled, shrugging as you walked back over to Abby and sat down beside her at the table. “Now get going. I’ll take Abby to school.” 

“Have a good day, Abs.” Mike said, wishing his sister well - only to receive a mindless nod in reply before she went back to chatting with you about something, excitedly telling you a story involving one of her imaginary friends while you watched her with absolutely rapt attention. 

He moved toward the door, but he found himself caught up in the sight of you. You were a hero in their little world as you rushed to save one of Abby’s drawings from some syrup that dripped off her plate. When you complimented the picture, she glowed with a smile he hadn’t seen in days. 

That was a huge part of it, too. The love he felt for you that grew more agonizing each day. You brought out all the best parts of Abby, as well as keeping Mike himself from going truly insane. 

For a single moment, he wondered if he should tell you. He wondered if he should just blurt out the words before running out the door, leaving you to simmer in it. Giving you time to think about it - to yell at him about it later. 

It hovered on his tongue. 

I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. 

But when you looked over and saw him still standing by the door, he locked eyes with you, and suddenly it was gone again, swallowed up inside of him like a nasty ache that would live there forever. 

“Go, Mike! You’re gonna be late!” You said, your voice edging with casual laughter. 

You picked up one of the couch cushions and swatted him with it as you walked by to get Abby a paper towel from the kitchen. 

No. He would tell you some other time. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t work up the courage to tell you at all. 

… 

He was going to die. He was going to be killed. 

And he wasn’t going to get the chance to tell you that he was in love with you. 

Strangely enough, that was the one thing Mike was thinking about as he laid on the cold, dirty floor of Freddy Fazbear’s condemned pizzeria. His stomach burned with searing pain as he received another kick from the large, intimidating monster that he knew only as the Yellow Rabbit. 

He was going to die. He wouldn’t get to tell you how he felt. He would never get to see you ever again. 

He was going to save Abby. He was going to make sure that she got out of here, escaped somehow. And you would take care of her. That thought was a singular comfort to him as he felt one of his ribs crack from the metal (poorly disguised by the foam and fabric around the edges of the suit) colliding with his torso.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “I killed your brother, now I get to kill you. Symmetry, my friend!” 

“Get away from him!” 

Mike almost thought that the intense pain had caused him to hallucinate, or that he had hit his head on the floor hard when he had been thrown down - it couldn’t actually be you.

But he heard your voice, fierce and fiery as ever, defending him as you had so many times before. He struggled to get his head up to look, but he caught a glimpse of the Yellow Rabbit as the strange animal collapsed. 

You had picked up one of the chairs, and brought it down over the Rabbit’s head, perfectly imitating something that would have been on Monday Night Raw. Except this was pure wood, not a collapsing chair, and all the pieces that splintered and fell in front of Mike as the Rabbit collapsed were because of the pure force of your hit. The fury of which you defended him and his life. 

“Y/N!” Abby yelled your name from across the room. 

She rushed into your arms as you stepped over the Rabbit’s prone body, and you swept her into a tight hug. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” You rushed to ask, brushing her hair out of her face to inspect for any injuries. 

“I’m fine.” Abby told you. “Mike-” She then turned to her brother, frantic, and pulled away from you to fall to her knees by his side. 

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” You asked, on your knees at his side just as quickly. 

You turned him over on his back, inspecting him for injuries now - definitely not liking what you found. 

Abby held his hand and he grasped it right back, his head still dizzy from the thorough ass-kicking he had just experienced. 

You gasped when you saw blood leaking through his shirt. He grunted in pain when you pressed your hand into the wound, clearly trying to lessen that bleeding. 

“What - what are you doing here?” He croaked out. 

As much as he was thankful for you swooping in and saving him, he wished that you were safe somewhere else. Anywhere but here. 

“Abby left her jacket in my car, and when I went to return it, I saw your Aunt Jane passed out on the floor, and - and, I just had a bad feeling.” You rushed to explain. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here.” 

Mike hadn’t exactly told you the details of what was going on. 

As close as the two of you were, he wasn’t sure if you would be entirely receptive to the concept of Abby being ‘friends’ with robots that were controlled by ghost children, and Mike somehow feeling connected to his own missing… dead brother by being in this place. He had simply told you that his new job was a night shift at a creepy old abandoned pizza place. 

But of course, you were two steps ahead of him. As always. 

You pulled back your hand to inspect the bleeding, and Mike groaned again. 

“Should I call an ambulance?” You asked, and Mike shook his head furiously. 

“No, we have to-” 

We have to leave. You have to leave. You have to get Abby out of here, to safety. 

All of those words dissolved on his tongue as he watched with utter shock. He wanted to scream as a big yellow hand clasped onto your shoulder from behind, and soon, a pair of large rabbit ears rose up from the floor. 

He wasn’t down for the count. 

Before he could speak, before he could move, Mike’s throat became choked as he saw your expression shift from the kind concern that you had worn for him many times - to pain. A brutal shock of your own. 

The Rabbit had shoved his knife into your back. 

A bright pool of red began to form in the middle of your shirt as the tip of the knife just barely poked through the center of your chest. 

“No!” Mike shouted, rushing to sit up despite the pain screaming in his body. 

He put a shaking hand to the middle of your chest as though it mattered, as though he could save you from this. He hated how warm your blood felt underneath his fingers. 

Abby let out a scream beside him. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that she had to see this. That she would spend the rest of her life trying to get over this. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “It always hurts more when you love them!”  

The Rabbit let out a brutal laugh and then yanked his knife from your back, and you released a sharp breath as the Rabbit shoved you toward Mike, causing you to collapse into his lap in a bloody heap. 

Somewhere far away, in another world, Mike heard Vanessa shouting from the doorway. Maybe he felt some sense of relief, thinking she would shoot the Rabbit down and this would all be over. But as the Rabbit’s attention was drawn away from him, he turned to where you were draped across his lap, the small pool of red on your shirt now soaked into a large puddle as you sputtered and some of that harsh bright red blood came out the corner of your lips. 

“Mike-” You choked out, reaching for him. 

“Tell me what to do,” Mike choked out. 

His mind was miserably blank. He felt your fingers clutching at his bicep, like he held the key to saving you, like he could restore your life - but his mind was screaming and his chest collapsed in on itself. 

You were always the one that guided him. He didn’t have an idea if you didn’t plant it in his head first. 

“Y/N,” Abby sobbed. 

“It-it’s okay.” You told her, struggling, gurgling, choking on your own blood. You took your grip off Mike, extending the hand weakly to her, and she took it. “It’s g-gonna be okay.” 

She let out another harsh sob, and Mike felt his lungs fill with stone. 

“Tell me what to do,” He said desperately, not realizing how thick his own voice was, how close he was to breaking down. He ran a trembling hand over your face, brushing away some stray hairs - he hated how cold you felt to his touch. “Please, tell me what to do.” 

He thought you might suggest some first aid. An ambulance. Tell him where your car was so he could carry you there, cart you away, get you to safety. 

“You-re g-gonna take c-care of her-r.” You told him, shifting your eyes distinctly from him toward Abby, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re gon-na m-make it ok-ay.” 

“Y/N.” Abby cried, thick tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“Abby. You’re gonna b-be s-strong.” You grinned at her - your teeth were covered in blood, and it looked as menacing as it did fond. “You’re g-gonna be good for-r M-Mike, right? My little a-artist.” 

Abby nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes. 

And then, with some gears turning in her head, these words seemingly having triggered some line of thought, she looked up and spotted something across the room. She muttered something about the drawings and leapt up before Mike could stop her. He didn’t have the strength to chase her - he only hoped that she was leaving, escaping while the others were distracted. 

When he looked back down at you, your face was falling more limp, and your shirt was somehow even more soaked in blood. His jeans were wet, and he couldn’t even process why. He pressed a hand to the front of your shirt, trying to cover the wound as you had done with him - his muscles shook even harder when blood gushed out between his fingers and seemed to leak from you harder, as if to spite him. 

“Y/N,” He sobbed, leaning down. He cradled the back of your head and touched your forehead against his own. 

For a moment, he dreamed about putting his lips against your own and bringing you back to life with a kiss. Like some stupid fairytale. 

“Y/N, I-” 

I love you. 

“I - I know.” You croaked quietly, cutting him off. “D-don’t w-waste it on me now-w.” 

He felt the puff of your last breath as it expelled out against his cheek - he felt you go completely limp in his arms. 

“No-” He choked the word off in his throat, swallowing down sobs. 

No. 

He held you tighter against him, and feeling how cold you were, he let out a shuddering howl of a sob. He clasped your lifeless body against his chest - somehow believing that he could use the power of his grief to inject more life back into you. 

The rest of it was a blur. The deadly snap of springlocks, Vanessa shouting at him to abandon you - to abandon your body as the building collapsed in on itself. 

Mike didn’t truly break down until he was scrubbing his blood off your face in the bathroom sink that night. Seeing the red washing down the drain and knowing that it was the last traces of your life he was washing away - that was what truly did it. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there for hours, sobbing more than he breathed, unable to move. 

When his cries finally died down, Abby slowly crept in and asked him how he was feeling. He lied, telling her that he was feeling fine. She raised up a shy hand, offering him one of your sweaters that you had accidentally left on their couch a few days prior. 

He thanked her and then finally peeled himself off the floor. He tried to make pancakes and Abby remarked that they weren’t as good as yours. It felt impossible, but her words made him smile. It was a small, dull smile - but it was a smile, nonetheless. 

A few days later, when he finally fell asleep for the first time after you had died in his arms, it was with that sweater wrapped around his pillow, wafting your faded smell into his nostrils. It was the first time in years that he didn’t dream about Garett. The dream he had about you was just as haunting.

...

A/N: Also, I don't know if Afton's knife would actually be long enough to go through someone's back and pierce out the front of their chest but - one, it's a cool imagery, and two, the knife looks pretty large when compared to the scale of the Springtrap suit hands. Anyway, I don't actually care all too much if it's accurate or not, I had fun writing this lmao.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Alternate title for this chapter is : “I need him in a way that’s concerning to feminism”. Enjoy!! Chapter Title is from I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 20.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You start to work of Ben's PTSD. Everyone takes a little break. Usual warnings

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

“Ben.” Her voice dragged through Ben’s head, pulling him from a strange, dark peace. “Ben, wake up.”

He groaned, and She started poking him. “Fuck off,” he muttered, unwilling to entertain even the fucking idea of opening his eyes.

“Ben,” Her voice was muffled, and she was squirming against him in a way that made the Thing start to rise into his head. “Ben, you’re really fucking big.”

The Thing was fully awake now, and if She kept moving around like that Ben might have to throw her across the room. The world began to creep into attention, lifting him further from the mindless, perfectly fucking numb state he’d been under as it did. There was light pushing under his eyes, a linen blanket lying across his back, something soft against his face, and Her heartbeat below his.

“I can’t fucking breathe, Ben. If I die from asphyxiation it’s going to mean a lot of paperwork for you.”

Something that wasn’t the mattress, with a lot more lumps and sharp points, was under him. And She was still fucking rolling around against his chest, making it harder to focus on whatever the hell else was going on.

“I’m giving you five seconds before I’m no longer accountable for my actions.” Her voice rolled through him, and he grunted.

This was comfortable. Ben hadn’t been comfortable in far too fucking long. His brain wasn’t alert, the world was undisturbing against his chest, and everything was warm. Really fucking warm. More like hot, actually. Fucking burning.

By the time Ben realized what was happening, it was too late.

“Fuck!” He launched himself upwards, off the bed, away from the furnace beneath him. “Goddamn it, woman! I was sleeping!”

“Sorry!” She was already out of the bed herself, the apology called over her shoulder as she sprinted to the bathroom, door slamming in her wake.

Ben rubbed his chest, the warmth of where She’d burned him already fading. “You don’t sound fucking sorry,” he grumbled, glaring at the door as the toilet flushed.

She opened the door, walking back into the room with her tongue stuck out mockingly. “You were on top of me. You’re not a small guy, Pretty Boy, and I really needed to pee.” “You should’ve just fucking shook me awake-“

“I tried! For like, ten minutes!”

“Could’ve tried harder.” Ben snapped, and She rolled her eyes.

“You were out like a damn baby, Benjamin. It was either I piss on the bed and we both lie in it until your majesty deemed us fit to move, or I wake you up and we don’t have to do laundry a week early.”

She was—as She always fucking was because the universe hated him—right. And by the smug look on her stupid fucking perfect face, she knew it. The Thing was enjoying her pleased little smirk, transfixed on the way she was looking at Ben with small spark of satisfaction in her eyes, and it was making it really fucking difficult to fight with her.

“Next time you need someone to stop you from burning the damn house down, don’t expect me to fucking be there.” Ben’s low words sounded hollow to his own ears, and she just laughed. It was a damn unhelpful reaction, only making the Thing roll around inside him.

“But if I get locked up for arson, who will heat up your chicken tenders and oatmeal for you?” She teased. “Butcher will have to send you an old folks’ home, and it probably won’t be a nice one.”

“I can heat up my own fucking chicken tenders.” Ben scowled, and She giggled. 

“How very manly of you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She hummed, ignoring him. “You can’t do oatmeal, huh?”

“Oatmeal is for orphans, widows, and pussies.”

She smirked. “And old men.”

“I’m not fucking old, Sunshine.” He snapped, and Her smile grew.

“You’re over a hundred. The fact that you’re not on viagra is a straight act of God.”

Ben scoffed, even as the Thing stared roaring to just fucking grab her and wipe that taunting grin off her face as he proved how little fucking help he needed.

“Not an act of any fucking pussy god, brat, just me.” He winked, and the Thing rumbled, pushing against him as Her heart fluttered and she wrinkled her nose.

“Sure, cunt.” She rolled her eyes. “You and all the scientists who thought you’d use immortality for more than just sex.”

Ben shrugged. “You’re benefiting from it.”

“What?” She looked back at him quickly, and her heart picked up in time with the flush of her face.

Feeling his mouth curl into a smirk of his own as Her’s dropped, Ben winked. “If those pussy scientists didn’t make me immortal, I’d be long dead. And there would be nobody to save your ass all the time.”

“Oh,” She blinked, her heart slowing as she tilted her head. “Well. If they didn’t make you immortal, I probably wouldn’t need saving.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

She looked Ben up and down, her face scrunched in the way that he could fucking see her brain moving. 

But she only met his eyes, giving him a small smile paired with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

He said Her name firmly, narrowing his eyes, but she just rolled her own and moved to the dresser. 

“Go get changed, Ben. And shower, you smell like shit.”

“Sunshine, what the hell were you-“

“Dining room in fifteen. I want to get training done early so we can get started.” She began rummaging through the drawers, a small crease between her eyes.

Ben frowned. “Get started?”

“Yep,” She looked up, giving him a teasing grin. “You made a big mistake, Pretty Boy. You agreed, out loud, to let me work on that fucked up little brain of yours. We’re starting today, before you pussy out.”

“I’m not going to ‘pussy out’.” He grunted. “I’m a man of my fucking word. Which means we don’t have to start right damn now.”

“Maybe.” She pulled out a pair of leggings, bundling them under her arms as she moved to a different drawer. “But we’re going to anyways.”

“Why? No one’s fucking forcing us-” 

“I am.” She turned to face Ben fully, crossing her arms against her chest with a glare. “So haul your fucking ass, Benjamin, before I make you.”

“I’d like to see you try, brat.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as her heart stuttered on cue. “Eat me, cunt.”

The Thing went damn feral, coming up with a lot of creative ways to eat her, many involving her tongue and her cunt and his tongue and her tits, and through the lingering haze of sleep Ben was finding painfully fucking hard to ignore its suggestions. 

Fucking literally, the Thing taunted, and Ben—through an impressive amount of sheer will—ignored it.

“Sunshine, we just fucking woke up-“

“You just woke up,” she shrugged. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Hours?” Ben blinked. “What the fuck do you mean hours?”

“Well, you see time is measured in sixty-second increments, which are made into minutes. Those minutes are added up, also in-“

“No, you fucking brat.” He rolled his eyes, fighting the small smile threatening his lips. “You know goddamn well I’m asking-“

“I’d never seen you really sleep, okay?” She muttered. “I didn’t want to stop it just because I had to pee.”

Ben started a Her, probably looking like a slack-jawed pussy as the Thing started to buck around inside him. It wanted to touch her and feel her and hold her and keep her right next to him all the fucking time-

His voice felt like sandpaper as he spoke. “Sunshine-“

She cut him off, pointing sharply at the door. “Nope. Go get changed.” When Ben only stared at her, she gave him a soft smile. “Don’t get soft on me now, Pretty Boy.”

“I’m not fucking soft,” he grunted, the Thing still fucking pushing at him. She let out a small laugh, her whole fucking face so light and happy, and Ben smirked at her. “I could always prove it to you by-“

“Nope, no time.” She gestured at the door again. “Out.”

“No time?” Ben taunted, very quickly deciding that getting changed was now the least important thing in the world. “So after?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, taking a few steps forward with clothes still tucked under her arm to open the door for him. “Out, Ben. Now.”

Ben didn’t move, grinning widely at Her. “We’re having a fucking conversation. Don’t you know it’s not polite-“

He cut himself off as She hurled herself at him, underwear and leggings falling and abandoned on the floor. Ben watched in amusement as she grabbed his arm and started to pull him, only to immediately think better of it and move behind him in an equally vain attempt to push his body towards the door. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, what are you made of, bricks?” Ben felt Her slam her full body weight against his back, and grinned widely.

“I’ve been hit by a train and lived, Sunshine. I don’t think you’re going to have any more damn luck than it did.”

She paused, breathing heavily. “Steam engine or bullet train?”

“What the fuck is a bullet train?”

Apparently that was an answer to Her, because she started throwing herself back into Ben, strained noises sounding from behind him. “Goddamn-“ Her knee hit his thigh. “Fucking-“ Elbow into his side. “Bigfoot-“ Head pushing his back. “Ass-“ Two flat palms against his shoulders. “Man-” She paused for a second, catching her breath as Ben laughed. “You’re a dick.”

He chuckled. “I’m aware.” There was suspicious silence from behind him, and Ben turned—a little concerned that She’d passed out—right in time to be hit by the full force of Her body as she took a running start. Her arms wrapped around his torso, face pressed into his chest as she planted her feet firmly into the ground. 

Ben didn’t even feel himself fucking stumble, but She was nothing if not dedicated. 

“I fucking hate you, stupid fucking V’ed up asshole, built like a fucking mammoth-“ Ben snorted as She descended into bitter muttering, not budging from her hold.

“This is becoming really fucking sad, Sunshine.” 

“I’ll show you fucking sad, Ben, I’ll make you fucking cry-“

He said Her name in huffed amusement, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m just as immortal as you, you fucking cunt-“ She paused, taking a deep breath through her nose as her brow rested against him. He looked down at her, and She raised her head to meet his gaze.

Her eyes were wide, dilated, and she was breathing heavily through puffed lips. The Thing started to riot inside him, and suddenly Ben was incredibly aware of how Her body was pressed into his, how her hands rested against his back and her chin was perched against his chest. How She was fucking leaning into him and he could feel the speed of her heartbeat, the warmth that radiated from her skin. The image of Her body, still smoking, utterly fucking bare, and just as insufferably perfect as the rest of Her flashed in his head, making the Thing start to bellow. Her hair was pressed against her forehead by sweat, and he wanted to run his hands through it. He wanted to move his hands to where Her neck was craning up a him, and pull her closer-

“That’s enough,” Ben grunted, and as he pulled Her off of his body she made a little yelp that the growing strain in his pants really fucking enjoyed. 

“Ben-“ She let little gasp as he tossed her back onto the bed, and the Thing fucking whined like a fucking pussy. “What the fuck-“

Turning roughly, Ben stomped to the door, picked up Her clothes from the floor, and threw them to her side. Ignoring the Thing scrapping against him to stay—because just fucking look at her, so fucking perfect, sitting on the bed with pretty eyes and soft lips and she just made another little sound when she caught the clothes—Ben forced himself to walk in controlled and even steps down the hall to his room. He closed the door firmly but without a slam, locked it like any fucker who was about to get changed probably would, and fucking caved.

The Thing was getting a lot more fucking specific about its fantasies. Before it had been flashes of images, blurry hypotheticals. Now, as Ben threw his pants to some unimportant corners of the room and chased some sort of goddamn relief in his hand, everything was clear.

She was pressed against him again, looking up at him with blown out pupils and her mouth just barely open. This time he let his hand move up, holding the back of her neck as his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her so tightly against his body she might as well be just another part of him. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, and She opened for him. Easily, like she’d done it a thousand times before. His tongue moved into her mouth and she fucking moaned, hands gripping his shirt in fists as she tried to tug him impossibly closer. He dropped the hand at her hips lower, pressing his palm against her ass before dragging it forward to rest right between her thighs.

She whined, starting to grind against him, and he pulled back, smirking down at her as she moved to frantically pull the front of his shirt, trying to bring his mouth back to hers. He just moved to cup her jaw, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip. 

“Ben,” she whimpered, breath heavy against his fingers as her hand gripped his wrist against her center, trying to make him move.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine? Need something?” 

“You fucking dick-“

“You want my fucking dick, don’t you?” She moaned, head falling forward into his chest. “Tell me you want my fucking dick, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Ben,” she keened again. “You cunt-“

“Your cunt, brat. That’s what we’re talking about.” She fucking whined again, and he chuckled. “You know what you have to do if you want this.”

“Fuck-“ She let out a small, desperate sound. “Fuck you-“

“You will. All you have to say is-“

“Please! Ben, please. Please fuck me, you fucking asshole-“

Ben felt the metal taste of blood in his mouth, and realized not only had he covered the whole room in white, he’d bitten clean through his tongue as he came. By the time he had changed and cleaned his room—he was getting really fucking efficient—it had almost entirely healed, and Ben decided to just fucking hope She wouldn’t notice any lisp or slur in his words.

He should’ve fucking know a lot damn better by now. 

When Ben entered the dining room, She was sitting cross-legged on one of the long abandoned chairs, holding a completely destroyed apple in one hand and her phone in the other. Her gaze was sharp as her eyes moved across the screen, a small frown on Her face. It took Ben clearing his throat loudly for Her to look up at him, and the Thing tensed at the drawn caution still lingering on her face.

“Took you long enough.” She paused, and her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t shower.”

“You don’t fucking know that-“

“Your hair is dry.” She said flatly.

“Maybe I just don’t want to shower two goddamn times in one morning?” Ben snapped. “You think of that, smartass?”

He’d expected Her to glare at him, or bite back with her usual snark, but her head only tilted at him, brow furrowing. “What happened to your voice?”

“What are you talking about,” Ben snapped, cursing himself for not just waiting the one extra fucking minute for his tongue to heal.

“Your words sound weird. Open your mouth.” She took a step closer, eyeing his mouth as if she expected a fucking snake to jump out of it and turning the apple core over in her hands.

“I’m not going to fucking ‘open my mouth’, Sunshine.” Ben angled his chin higher, trying to hide his tongue as he spoke. 

“Why?” She glared at him. “Got something to hide?”

Just a few more damn seconds. “I don’t have to do everything you fucking tell me to, brat.”

Heart-flutter. Scowl. Her arms crossing in front of her. “Are you pleading the fucking fifth, Ben?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, because I’m not damn guilty of any fucking shit.”

“That’s not how the fifth works.”

“Yes, it fucking is.” Ben turned his face down fully, feeling his tongue healed completely. “And I’m not hiding anything. My voice is fucking normal.”

She blinked, a surprised frown flashing across Her features. “You’re fucking impossible,” she mumbled, and Ben winked at Her.

“Can I hear an apology-“ Ben was cut off by the apple core hitting him square in the fucking face.

“No.” She looked him up and down. “It’s not my fault you were being weird.” She met his eyes again, a smirk playing on her lips. “And you were wrong about the fifth. Which is shocking given you were alive when it was written.”

He glared at her. “You know goddamn well I wasn’t.”

“Do I?” She said, fake innocence coating her voice as she gave him a wide-eyed stare. “You’d bet money on that Pretty Boy?”

“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” 

“I’m a goddamn riot.” She moved to her defensive stance. “And I’m going to fucking kick your ass for whatever it is you’re hiding.”

Ben scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything, Sunshine.” He reached his arm out. “You can always just fucking check for yourself.”

“I can’t read minds, Ben. Unless you’re feeling guilty, doing that won’t help me at fucking all.”

“I’ve never felt guilty in my goddamn life.” The Thing started spinning around in Ben’s chest, tight against him. Suddenly Her touching him felt like a bad fucking idea.

“Yeah,” She rolled her eyes. “I fucking know. It’s an issue.”

He frowned. “I get shit done, Sunshine. I said I won’t fucking apologize for doing my goddamn job-“

“Not asking you to. That’s a battle I know I won’t win.” She said, flexing her fists. “Now let me beat you to a pulp, Ben.”

“You’re real mouthy this morning, brat.” He sneered, and She glared up at him. “You really think you’re laying one fucking hand on me?”

“Oh,” she gave a dry laugh. “This is going be so goddamn cathartic, cunt, you have no fucking idea.”

Ben decided he had at least some fucking idea, because the first punch She threw landed square across the jaw, and the second slammed right into his gut. It didn’t hurt, he barely even felt it, but the crazed focus in Her eyes, the fact that he could hear the grinding of her teeth, and the way Her heart had taken on a heavy and uncontrolled rhythm was telling him at least a little about what She was feeling.

“Christ on a fucking cross,” Ben grunted as her fifth punch connected with his nose. “I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”

“We’re not,” she grunted, kicking his chest.

“Sure feels like we goddamn are.” He managed to block her fist from his neck, and She stumbled slightly. “If you’re still mad at me, just fucking tell me.”

“I’m not,” She snapped, and Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m fucking not!”

“Don’t lie to me, Sunshine, you’re better than that.”

“Oh piss off,” She scowled, and Ben didn’t like the shadow that flitted across her face. “I’m not fucking mad at you, I’m just stressed, ok?”

“About what?” Ben frowned, dodging another punch. The Thing started to scrape at him again, desperate to reach out and smooth the crease in Her brow. “Nothing’s fucking happening.”

She just grunted, not meeting his eyes. This time, when her fist flew to his face, Ben grabbed it, holding it firmly as he glared down at Her.

“What’s wrong with you.” He demanded, and She just blinked, looking between his glower and his hold on her hand.

“Nothing,” She said, though her voice wavered, and the Thing started rising to Ben’s throat. 

“Liar.” He lowered his hand, pulling Her arm with him. “What’s wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s fucking wrong, Benjamin. I don’t need a single reason to be stressed, everything about our lives is fucking nightmare.”

“You’re being sloppy.” He watched Her carefully, listening for any change in her heart. “Our lives are nightmares every goddamn day. You’re never fucking sloppy.”

“I’m not sloppy, Pretty Boy.” She sneered. “I’ve landed almost every fucking punch.”

“In poor form.” Ben countered, not wavering. Something was fucking wrong with Her. The Thing was so damn loud in him, it needed to know, it need to make it better, make Her smile or laugh and just look less fucking tense. “If you’re still pissed at me, fucking spit it out.”

“Not everything is fucking about you, Ben!” She spat, trying to pry Her fist from his. “I’m just fucking stressed!”

“There’s nothing-“

“Are you stupid, or insane? Of course there’s shit to be stressed about! You met with Homelander and you didn’t even tell me what happened! We keep fucking fighting about stupid shit and I’m tired! We keep saying we won’t keep secrets but we both know we’re lying! Butcher is apparently watching us on cameras, and being just a fucking dick about-“ She took a deep, strained breath. “I just want to fucking have some sort of goddamn control over my fucking life, and sometimes that means punching someone I-“ She took a ragged breath. “I know can take it. Is that too much to fucking ask?”

He felt Her hand grow slack in his, her eyes growing cloudy. The Thing was pushing into him, and Ben wasn’t fucking strong enough to fight it. Not when She looked so goddamn exhausted, still somehow fucking perfect, and hollow in a way that made the Thing bloodthirsty.

He pulled Her hand forward, and as she stumbled into his chest, a small gasp escaping her, Ben wrapped his arms around her back and shoulders. He held Her tight against him, stroking her hair until her breathing steadied, and her body relaxed against his. Once it had, Her head resting against his chest and her heartbeat moving in time with his own, Ben pulled back slightly to look down at Her.

Fucking perfect.

“Go shower,” he said Her name firmly, and she blinked at him in surprise.

“But-“

“We don’t have to go for two hours every damn day, Sunshine. You’re going to go shower, we’re going to sit on the couch, and you’re going to get your fucking show on the road.”

“My show?” She frowned. “Do you mean-“

“The shell shock.” Ben grunted. “You’re going to try your little magic trick, I’ll tell you about the meeting, and we won’t fight.”

She sighed, watching him sadly. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Ben tightened his grip on her body. “I fucking swear on it.”

For a long second, it looks like She might push him on it. Ben fucking meant it, they weren’t going to fight, even if it meant talking about stupid, vapid shit for the entire afternoon. She looked too goddamn exhausted, it would be like kicking a puppy. A perfect, sad, exhausted puppy that got on his every fucking nerve, but he would bite his tongue for. Part of Ben just wanted to pick Her up, carry her to bed, and hold her until she slept off the strain and anguish on Her face.

“Promise?” She breathed, and Ben didn’t feel any hesitation as he responded.

“Promise.”

She nodded slowly, and pried herself from his grip. “You better shower as well. I meant it when I said you smelled like shit.”

Ben snorted. “You’re not much better, Sunshine.” It was a fucking lie, she smelled like flower shampoo and salt and smoke, but the small smile on Her lips was more than worth the taunt. 

“Don’t make me force you to bathe, because I’ll fucking do it. Don’t test me.”

“I’m sure you will,” he muttered under his breath, trailing after Her as they moved up the stairs. She laughed, looking over Her shoulder at him with a wide, perfect smile covering Her face, and the Thing ached.

“See you in thirty, Ben.” She closed the door behind Her, and he was left in the hallway alone.

Ben did shower. Not because She fucking told him to, or because he realized she was right—he smelled like sweat and charcoal and grime—but because he had thirty minutes to kill and nothing to do except shower.

It didn’t fucking hurt that he got to imagine Her in the shower with him, that same perfect smile on Her face as the Thing created an image of her kneeling before him. Of Her mouth around him, of Ben’s hand in her hair as it had been only minutes ago, of Her moans running through his body as he thrusted his cock between her lips.

This time, it was a lot easier to clean up after himself.

She was already on the couch when he got back downstairs, hair damp and knees folded into Her chest as she tapped on her phone. Ben dropped down at Her side, and nudged her shoulder.

“Feeling better, brat?”

She stuck her tongue out as she dropped Her phone into her lap, and the Thing rumbled. “I’m gonna heal your brain so fucking hard, cunt, you won’t know what hit you.”

“Or nothing will happen, because I’m not a fucking shell shocked pussy, and the world’s going to owe me a big fucking apology.”

“You still don’t think you have PTSD?” She frowned. 

“No, because I fucking don’t.”

“Why are you letting me do this, then?” 

Ben shrugged. “Who am I to deprive you of a chance to touch me?”

She scoffed, face flushing slightly. “We touch all the time, Ben. Try again.”

The Thing was loud in his ears, both grumbling about how She was right—they did touch all the time—but it still wasn’t fucking enough, and trying to grab his tongue and force the words because you said I couldn’t fix you if you couldn’t fix me, and if you had kept fucking screaming and crying and breaking right in front of me it might have fucking killed me.

The Thing needed to shut the hell up.

“You wanted some control, Sunshine. Here it is.” When She didn’t look entirely convinced at his words, Ben leaned down to hold Her gaze at eye level and said Her name firmly. “No fighting, remember?”

She narrowed her eyes, and nodded. “Fine. You’re telling me about the meeting, though. No fucking take backs.”

“Deal.” He said, a smile pulling at his mouth. “What do you-“

He cut himself off as She reached up, dropping one leg down to carpet as she folded the other beneath her, and placed her hands against his head. The Thing made a lot of satisfied sounds, and Ben had to bite down a groan and Her fingers tangled slightly in his hair. 

“What the hell are you doing.” His voice was strained, a lot of fucking effort going into ignoring how She’d pulled him down further, so that her face was practically inches from his.

She wasn’t even fucking looking a him as she answered, attention trained on where she held him. “Can’t touch your brain. This is the closest I can get.”

“Should I be fucking feeling something?”

“Dunno,” She shrugged. “Never done this to myself, dummy.”

Ben grunted, and watched Her nose start to wrinkle, brows drawing into concentration. She somehow looked more perfect than before, when he could see glimpses of Her teeth as she chewed her lower lip, could look at every small movement of her eyes, could feel Her hot breath fan across his face. “Have you started-“

“Yeah.” She glanced down to meet his gaze, and something hot flashed across her face. “You can talk whenever.”

“Does it feel like anything?”

She shook her head, but Ben heard her foot start to tap on the carpet. “Do you feel anything?”

“No.”

Her eyes ran across his face, searching for something Ben didn’t have a clue about. She seemed to find Her answer though, and her focus returned to his forehead. “The meeting?” She prompted, and Ben sighed.

“What do you want to know?”

“All of it.” Her voice was firm. “Start from when you left, end when you got back.”

Ben frowned. “We took the van.”

“I figured.” She snarked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to hear about it or not?” She shot him a quick glare, and he continued. “The French Prick had gas. Fucking mustard and sleeping gas with agent orange.”

“Agent orange is illegal, it hasn’t been in production since, like, the 70s.” She said, and Ben scoffed.

“Asshole made his own. Carried it fucking everywhere like a pussy.”

She let out a huff of amusement. “Of course he did. You’re a scary guy.”

“I know.” He muttered, and something pulled at his lungs. Before he could think better of it, he was asking, “You scared of me, Sunshine?”

“Me?” She still didn’t look back at him, and Ben couldn’t fucking stand the seconds before she answered. “No.” She said it as if it was fucking obvious, and Ben wanted to know more, the Thing needed to know more, but before he could demand it She was looking into his eyes. “What else?”

“We went to the FSIB.” She frowned, and Ben knew his guess had been wrong. “Supe Bureau.” He said, before she could ask.

“Ah,” a small smile crossed her lips, gaze leaving his once more. “FBSA.”

“Sure, that.” He muttered, raising his voice after to continue. “Sage and Homelander were there,” Her grip on his head tightened slightly, and he had to fight the Thing trying to reach for Her. “Neuman too.” She opened her mouth, and Ben rolled his eyes. “Neuman as well. Butcher was pissed about it.”

She snorted. “Butcher’s always pissed about something. What did they want?”

“To know our plans. Sage fucking asked outright what they were.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. Goddamn waste of time.”

“Hm.” She shook her head slightly, lips drawing in as she chewed at them. “You said Sage asked?”

Ben nodded. “Specifically about us. What Butcher was intending to use us for.”

“Sage asked that?” She glanced down at him again, frowning. “That sounds like something Homelander would ask, not Sage.”

“Maybe that pussy made her ask for him.”

She shook her head, voice slightly quieter. “Even if that’s true, Sage would have to see benefit in it. I don’t trust her to just give in to Homelander over something so plainly stupid. There’s something else. What-” She swallowed slightly, and Ben’s attention caught on the bob of Her throat. “What else was discussed?”

Feeling that She already knew the answer, Ben watched her carefully as he spoke. “You. A lot about you. Sage said you were a liability, which is fucking bullshit, and Homelander whined like a fucking pussy about you leaving him, about the food, about the V shot that didn’t take and how you wasted it, offered to trade you for Ryan-“

“He what?” Her eyes darted down, voice high.

“Asshole said he’d be willing to give Butcher his wife’s brat if Butcher gave you over.” Ben heard Her heart stumble. “We didn’t damn agree to it, Sunshine. If Butcher had even fucking considered it I’d have thrown him out the window.”

“But he offered it? To Butcher?”

Ben said Her name slowly. “I don’t think Butcher took it fucking seriously. Even that pussy knows Homelander would’ve just fucking taken you and kept Ryan.” He frowned as She nodded, blinking nervously before looking back up. “Sunshine.”

“Hm?” Her grip tightened again. 

“You’re hiding something.” 

“No, I’m not.” Her words were clipped, and Ben scoffed. 

“Yes, you fucking are. Are you really fucking worried that Butcher will take his offer? Because I was being fucking serious-”

“I’m not worried about the offer, Ben. I promise.”

Ben examined Her face. She was still looking intently at his forehead, but Her heart was controlled with her breathing again, and the tapping was gone. “Are you upset about the kid? Brian?”

“Ryan,” she corrected. “And no. He’s going to be fine.”

“Because of your plan.”

“Because of my plan.”

Ben said her name slowly. “What is your fucking plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s something fucking stupid, isn’t it.”

She frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.” He glared at Her perfect face, trying to find any sort of tell for whatever insane thing was running through Her goddamn head.

“Fuck off, Benjamin. How the hell would you know if it’s stupid.”

He glared at Her. “Because all your plans are fucking stupid and insane.”

“And they all fucking work, Pretty Boy.” Her voice was smug. “You’ve said so yourself.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not goddamn terrible. All of them involve you throwing yourself in front of a train and just fucking hoping you survive.”

“Only one of us has thrown themselves in front of a train, cunt, and it’s not me.”

“A fucking metaphorical train, brat. And I know your plan is fucking stupid because you and Butcher don’t seem too concerned about how it might not work.”

She rolled her eyes. “If anything that’s a sign that it’s an amazing plan.”

“No, it means it’s fucking insane and probably going to blow up in your fucking face.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m being fucking serious, Sunshine.” Ben reached, grabbing one of Her wrists. “If you’re planning something insane, you need to fucking tell me.”

She glowered at him, her words firm. “Good thing it’s not insane.”

“Then just tell me the damn plan.”

“No.”

“I’m trying to help you, brat.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fucking hell,” Ben snapped Her name. “Can you just trust me about one goddamn thing-“

“No fighting, Ben.” She cut him off, voice rising. “And I’m not telling you, not because I don’t trust you, or because it’s stupid and insane.” She was talking faster and faster, with less breaths between words. “I’m not telling you because nobody knows but Butcher and I, and it needs to stay that way because it’s really fucking precarious, and it needs to go perfectly because if it doesn’t you won’t get the fucking shot at Homelander and this will have been for fucking nothing because you’ll go back under-“ Her grip was like iron around his head. “And we fucking promised we wouldn’t let each other go back so I can’t-“ 

Ben yanked Her hands from his head just before they began to smoke. “Sunshine-“

“I can’t, I can’t tell you, I fucking can’t-“

He raised his voice using Her name as he grabbed her face in his hands. “Fucking breathe.”

She stared at him, her own hands flying up to his arms. 

He repeated himself, lowering his volume, but keeping his words forceful. “Breathe.”

She nodded slowly, and Ben watched Her chest rise and fall, slowing in speed as her heart steadied. She was still watching him, eyes wide and lips parted, and Ben was suddenly incredibly fucking aware of how close they were. Closer than before. Her hands were still warm around him, keeping his hold on her face firm, a hold that had his fingers tangled in her hair and his thumbs so fucking close to her mouth. Her knee was pushed against his hips, dangerously close to the tightness in his pants, and he could fucking swear Her eyes had just fallen to his lips, her tongue running over her own-

Something buzzed, and Her head dropped down as she moved one hand to grab Her phone. 

“It’s Hughie.” Her brow wrinkled as she read the screen.

“Cocksucker?” 

“Hughie.” She corrected without missing a beat. “He says Annie is about to call, and not to say no to her, because it’ll be his ass if I do and she’s been trying to do this for a month.”

On perfect fucking cue, the phone started buzzing again, displaying a grainy photo what looked to be Starlight gloating over the French Prick’s body. Ben tried to read the words, which was harder than usual given that they were upside down, but his attention was pulled back to Her as she poked his leg with Her foot.

“Ben, I need to answer.” When he just raised his brows at Her—about to ask why the hell she was telling him instead of just fucking doing it—she looked pointedly at his hands, which were still gripping Her face. 

He rolled his eyes, but released her.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, raising the phone to her ear. “What’s wrong, Annie?”

Ben kept his face passive as he listened to Starlight’s voice, muffled through the static of the phone. “We’re going out.”

She raised Her brows, frowning at Ben as she spoke. “What?”

“We need a break,” Starlight’s voice was firm. “So we’re going out.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Everyone. You, me, Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, MM, Butcher even if I have to physically drag him, and Soldier Boy because we can’t leave him alone.”

Ben scowled, and She rolled her eyes at him, giving him a glare of I know you’re listening Ben, but she doesn’t, so keep fucking quiet.

“Is this part of a plan?” She asked carefully. “Like a club full of supes that might have information-“

“No,” Starlight said Her name with a sigh. “We’re just going out, because if we don’t let off some steam we might explode.”

“Why do Ben and I have to come?” She said, and Ben could hear the gnawing of Her lip. “I mean, he’s still a fugitive, and everyone is going to think he’s kidnapped me-“

“Frenchie’s taking care of it.”

“Annie,” Her voice was flat. “I have no interest in going anywhere sponsored or endorsed by Frenchie.”

“Please,” Starlight said Her name in a desperate tone. “It’ll be safe, I promise. We all need this, and that includes you.”

“You don’t want me there, Annie.” The plain, factual way She says the words makes the Thing want to snap every member of Her team in half. “I might blow, it’s really not safe-“

“It’ll be fine, I promise.”

She sighed, and Ben could fucking visably see will begin to crumble “Annie, I don’t even have anything to wear-“

“Are your measurements the same from when we found you?”

“I mean, yeah, but-“

“I’ll buy you something this afternoon.”

“This after- Annie are we going today?”

“Yep. We’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

“Hours?��� Her eyes were wide. “A few fucking hours?”

“Like three or four.”

“Annie-“

“See you then!” The hum of the line went dead, and She looked up at Ben with wide eyes. 

“You heard her, right?”

Ben frowned. “You didn’t tell her to get me clothes.”

She blinked at him. “That’s what you’re worried about? What are you going to wear?”

He shrugged. “I mean, there’s not fucking much else to worry about-“

“What about the fact that you are a wanted criminal? Or that I am technically your hostage?”

“Starlight said the French Prick would take care of it.”

“Ben-“

“The lady is right, Sunshine.” He said firmly. “You need a break. I need a break. She sounded like she needed a break.”

“But-“

Ben said Her name, nudging her leg with his own. “Even Butcher is going,” his tone was teasing, trying to pull the goddamn worry from Her face. “Are going to be more of a stick in the mud than fucking Butcher?”

She scowled. “I’m not a stick in the mud.”

He gave her a cocky grin. “Prove it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. No anger, no stress, just pure focus on his challenge. “Prove it?”

“Fucking prove it. Let go. Have some fun for once in your damn life.”

“I’ve had fun. I’ve had a shit ton of fun.” Her lips were slightly pouted. And so fucking close.

“Like I said, brat. Prove it.”

She stood abruptly, and the Thing start fucking pussying about inside Ben that Her body was gone. She moved around the couch, marching to the stairs, before pausing to look back at Ben once. 

“I’m going have so much fucking fun, Pretty Boy. It’s going to blow your fucking mind.”

————

The thing about living in a CIA safe-house to babysit an allegedly dead hundred-year-old man—who you entirely and incorrectly anticipated hating with every fiber of your being for the duration of your time together—was that you didn’t spend a lot of time trying to look nice. Not for yourself, and certainly not for anyone else. 

Every member of your team had fully supported this blatant lack of effort. You brushed your teeth, showered, and combed out your hair enough that MM wouldn’t start yelling at you about basic hygiene, but nobody was about to start telling you that self-presentation was important to self-respect. You, like all of them, didn’t have the luxury of self-respect. You hardly had the luxury of respect. 

It was because of this that—looking back on it—hindsight was indeed a powerful thing. Hindsight would’ve been unbelievably helpful when Mallory’s bi-weekly grocery delivery had come a few nights ago, delivered with a grotesquely large box of makeup and hair products from Annie. You’d moved them into your bathroom—thankful that Ben was taking one of his long showers after training and wasn’t going to barge in asking questions—and read the note buried between hairspray and color corrector.

For later! I wasn’t sure what colors you liked, so I got all of them. - Annie.

A little heart had been drawn next to her name, and looking back at the box you realized she had, as promised, gotten all of them. The box was filled with a rainbow fortune of lipsticks, glosses, eyeshadow palettes, mascaras, liners—liquid, pencil and gel—highlighters, blushes, bronzers, contours, and at least at least twenty foundations and concealer in what you imagined was Annie’s best guess of your shade. That wasn’t even touching the sprays and gels and body glitter. 

You’d thought she’d lost it. Or gotten sick of her blood money from Vought and decided to buy you an entire makeup store. You’d pulled out your phone, found Annie January: Arm Wrestling Champion, and been about to call her and ask if she was ok and what “for later” could have possibly meant when Ben had started banging on your door. You’d left your phone in the bathroom, shoving the box under the sink, and ran to answer him. You don’t really remember most of the conversation, because Ben’s hair had been damp and looked soft and you’d wanted to touch it, there had been ice cream stuck to his lower lip and you’d wanted to lick it, and the Feeling had been incredibly focus on the slight rasp in his voice but apparently not enough to really hear him. You remember how it had ended though. You putting away the groceries as Ben watched unhelpfully at the doorway, save for a whole tub of malt vanilla ice cream that Ben had decided was too close to melting and felt personally responsible to take matters into his own hands. You’d told him it had been out for less than an hour, and if it was really about his commitment to lowering food waste he wouldn’t have let the caramel ice cream just die like he had. He’d said caramel was a shitty flavor for pussies and the senile, you’d told him that malt vanilla wasn’t really the ice cream of the youth either, he’d called you “brat” again, and Annie’s box of insanity had been completely forgotten.

Hughie’s text had said that Annie had been planning this for a month. If it wasn’t for the box, you’d have thought she was being blackmailed, tricked, or at the very least mind-controlled. Annie wasn’t someone who “went out”, let alone enlisted Frenchie for aid in finding terrorist-appropriate nightlife. You stared at the box as you pulled it out from under the sink—it was more daunting than you remembered—unsure if you should just fully lean into Ben’s prove you’re not a stick in the mud challenge, or be genuinely concerned for Annie and her sudden personality switch. The Feeling was in strong favor of the first option, replaying every single second on the couch over and over, reminding you that Ben had never seen you actually try to have fun—or at least what he considered fun—and maybe if you proved you could he’d touch your face again. Maybe he’d look at you with that hungry glint in his eyes and actually mean it the way the Feeling wanted him to. 

He’d lose his mind. The Feeling protested. You’d prove you’re not a stick in the mud, and as a fun reward you’d get to see him lose his mind.

It was that exact train of thought that made you choose the second option, even as the Feeling whined about it. 

You pulled out your phone—pushing the Feeling deep into the back of your head where it couldn’t influence your decisions—and forced yourself to call Hughie.

“What’s up?” Hughie sounded tired, more tired than normal. 

“Is Annie okay?” You dove into the question headfirst, the words pushing the Feeling back further. This wasn’t about Ben, and how the Feeling hated the idea that he saw you as boring. This was about Annie, and if you needed to be worried about her.

“Yeah, um, I mean-“ Hughie stumbled over his words, and you could practically see the anxiety on his face. “She’s fine. Good. She’s good. Everything is fine and she’s good-“

“Hughie.” You said firmly. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I, uh, I didn’t say you were-“

“Do I need to be worried? Because you know just well, scratch that, you know better than I do that ‘going out’ is not regular Annie behavior.”

“I mean, it could be. Maybe it wasn’t regular Starlight behavior but it is regular Annie behavior. We don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re not good at it.”

Hughie mumbled your name. “It’s really not that much to be worried about.”

“Okay.” You sigh, glancing involuntarily towards the door to make sure Ben hasn’t suddenly appeared to ruin your bluff. “Then I guess it’s ok if Ben and I don’t go.”

“No!” You move the phone from your ear with a wince as Hughie yells the words. “You need to come, please, Annie will kill me-“

“Why, Hughie. Why will she kill you if it’s not something to be worried about?” Hughie was silent for a second, so you continued. “This is risky, you know this is risky. If you say it’s important to Annie I’ll do it, but I need to know that it’s actually important to her, and not something to be concerned about.”

“It is important to Annie,” Hughie’s voice was hushed. “You’re right, it’s not like her, but she’s still fighting with her mom, and Firecracker did a lot of damage-“ you wince at the mention of Firecracker, but remain silent. “And she just wants to do something kind of normal with the team. Something stupid that isn’t fucking life or death.”

“Okay.” You say, and you mean it. “Three hours?”

“Uh, yeah. Three hours.”

“See you then.” You hang up, and sigh at nothing.

Three hours. Three hours to remember how to look and act like the carefree, normal person you’d been three years ago. The person who had friends, and went out with those friends, and had simple, wild fun with those friends. You could do it again, even if those friends were now revenge fueled mercenaries. But you could have fun. You would have fun. For yourself. Not because the Feeling was starting to come up with all the ways in which you could prove that you weren’t a stick in the mud, and all the ways Ben’s jaw would drop when he was forced to eat his words.

You dump out the contents of Annie’s box—an immediate mistake, there was somehow more than there looked to be—and set to work. You tried all ten of the different perfumes, settled on a flowery one with an Italian label that you certainly butcher the pronunciation of, and took a shower. A long shower, that drowned out the Feeling reminding you of your last shower, where Ben’s sweat from training had been stuck to your body, and his touch had still been lingering on your skin, and his face was imprinted onto your eyes, and the sound of his voice was ringing in your ears-

You turned the shower knob until the water was freezing, and cursed slightly as the chill hit your body. 

After you’d dried yourself off—two hours left—you set to work. Makeup first, a full face of powders and shadows and colors. You started over three times—muscle memory was not your friend and the more you sorted through the pile of products the less satisfied you were with your previous choices—and by the time you were done and semi-pleased with your handiwork, you were down to an hour. Hair was faster—there were less choices to be made—and by the time you looked in the mirror ten minutes remained. Ten minutes to not dwell on Ben. Ten minutes to remind yourself that this wasn’t about him, because this was about Annie. Ten minutes for the Feeling to work up from where you’d buried it, and provide unhelpful fantasies of Ben smudging your lipstick and messing up your hair and looking at you with the same hooded gaze from earlier-

Your phone buzzed, a text from Butcher flashing across the screen. 

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

We’ll talk tonight. 

Cold ran through your body, steeling you as your breathing became controlled. Tonight. Butcher was ready, he’d texted you this morning about “all the bloody pieces in place”, and you were going to talk tonight. This wasn’t about the Feeling, because the Feeling didn’t matter. It was gripping onto Ben for safety, a luxury it would soon no longer have. This was about having fun, before everything went to hell. This was about the fact that all of this was so close to over, you might as well enjoy doing something stupid for your friend. You gave the mirror a glare, the foreign woman in it glaring right back. This was the last time she’d make an appearance, because Butcher was ready tonight.

You heard a light knock on your door, took a deep breath, and went to answer it. Annie stood on the other side, holding a plastic bag with a white-knuckled grip.

“Oh good, you’re ready.” She held out the bag, and you took it tentatively as she continued. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a few different styles. Once you get changed, we’ll get going.”

You glance down, scanning Annie’s options. “Uh, where exactly are we going?” 

“Some sort of underground speak-easy type club.” Annie frowned slightly. “I don’t remember the name, Frenchie was talking really fast when he said it.”

You nod nervously, fighting the lump in your throat. “Okay, give me, like, five and I’ll be ready.” 

You were about to retreat into your room, starting to close the door, when Annie stopped you with a quick, nervous touch. You blink at her, trying to ignore the rush of anxiety and stress that buzzed through your body.

Annie said your name softly. “Thank you for doing this.”

You shrug. “Don’t.”

“I know you’d rather not leave-“

“Annie, seriously. It’s fine. You’re right, we all need a break.” You clear your throat, chasing off the grip that Butcher’s text had left on your lungs. “This will be fun.”

“You look nice,��� Annie offers a smile. “Hot.”

You give her a half-forced, toothy grin. “You look hot as well. Hughie’s gonna lose his mind.” Maybe Ben will lose his for you, the Feeling said dreamily in your ear. You pushed it back into the corners of your brain, forcing yourself to focus on Annie.

“This will be fun.” Annie echo’s your sentiment, her voice firm. “I’ll see you when you’re ready?”

“In five.” You restate, nodding. This time, when you go to close the door, Annie doesn’t stop you.

Changing takes a little over five minutes, because even though you try to pick something fast, it’s impossible to ignore the Feeling as it tries to invent different scenarios about how that option will highlight one feature, but that option will highlight another, and Ben would probably like the third option because it’s green-

You pick the green option, because it shuts the Feeling up the easiest. 

When you get to the living room, MM and Butcher are standing stiffly at the door, Kimiko is rummaging through the bookshelf as Frenchie watches with an adorably affectionate expression, and Hughie and Annie are huddled on the couch, exchanging low words. You clear your throat, and hold yourself steady as attentions turn to where you stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m ready.” You mumble, giving the room another quick sweep. “Where’s Ben?”

“Asshole was in the shower when we got here.” MM grumbled. “Still hasn’t come down.”

You snort. “In that case we might be here all night. That man takes long showers, he might not be half-way done.”

“Fucking rude, Sunshine.” You jump, spinning on your heels to see Ben coming down the stairs, a crooked grin on his face. “I care about my hygiene, is that a goddamn crime?” “When it takes up all the hot water? Yeah, it is.” You avert your gaze as you snap at him, because the Feeling is starting to push up and up in your brain, almost consumes your thoughts about the fact that Ben looks good, really good, and he’s stopped right next to you, and you can feel the heat from his body-

Butcher’s voice snaps you away from the Feeling’s grip. “Well, don’t you two clean up well?” His tone is mocking, and when you look at his twisted smile and cold eyes, your whole body tenses.

“Wish I could say the same for you, you fucking pussy.” Ben drawls, seemingly unbothered. “You own any clothes that aren’t those ugly fucking Hawaiian shirts?”

“Nah,” Butcher winks. “Nothing else matches my thongs, Gov.”

Ben’s fists curl in your periphery, and you take a step forward. “Frenchie,” your voice is a little louder than probably needed, but it gets the job done. “How far is the club?”

Frenchie doesn’t look up from watching Kimiko as he responds. “An hour, Madame Anom-“ He cuts himself off, head shooting up to look nervously at Ben, and says your name instead. 

“Then let’s get a move on,” MM grunts from the door, and you barely here his mutter of, “Fucking hell, Frenchie, couldn’t chose a place in a reasonable distance, could you?” because you’re blinking at Frenchie, trying to figure out why he’s still looking at Ben in not quite fear, but certainly not comfort. 

Everyone filters out of the room—the air a little more tense than it probably should be for a group of people going clubbing—and you grab Ben’s arm before he can follow.

Mistake. Big mistake. The Feeling claws its way to the surface, because you’re fully looking at him and he’s fully looking at you, and everything is suddenly very sharp and very warm. Because, even if he was being a sardonic ass, Butcher was right. Ben cleaned up well. Really well. Unfairly well. The Feeling couldn’t pick a place to settle, because his hair was slightly mussed, and he’d shaved just enough for you to really see his lips, and his shirt was clinging to his chest in a way that you could see his muscles ripple as he breathed, and you were thirsty again, because your heart was rolling around inside your chest. Because he was looking you up and down, and the Feeling was so focused on trying to see if there was anything in the way he looked at you that you didn’t think you remembered how to breathe.

“You look good,” Ben’s voice is low and gruff, and does not help silence the Feeling at all. 

“Thanks.” You mumble, and hope you sound a little less pathetic and breathless than you feel. You manage to blink a few times, pulling your head into the game and ignoring the pounding in your chest and head. “Uh, what was that about?”

He frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Frenchie looked at you like you were going to rip his head off.”

“They always look at me like that,” Ben shrugs. “So?”

“He didn’t call me ‘Madame Anomaly’, he used my name.”

“Yeah, maybe the prick finally realized that you’re no Madame,” his tone is mocking, but you can’t feel any malice or cruelty. Only the resolved protection wrapping around you. 

It made the Feeling feral. It made you struggle to focus. 

You must be looking as lost as you feel, because Ben’s eyes narrow, and he looks you up and down again. “Are you sure you want to do this, Sunshine?”

The Feeling wants to touch the lines of tension on his brow, run your fingers over them until they vanish, and you overpower it just enough to say, “What?” 

“If you really don’t, I can tell them you’re sick and to go without us.”

“I can’t get sick, Ben.” You say flatly, pulling yourself forcefully from the Feeling’s grasp.

“Then come up with a better lie. And we’ll stay here.”

You glare at him. “I said I was going to have fun, Benjamin, and I fucking meant it. We’re going, I’m going to blow your fucking brains out with how fun I am, and you’re going to admit that I’m no a stick in the mud.”

He coughs something that’s either a laugh or a choke, and your heart squeezes. “Fuck me for trying to be helpful, brat.”

“After you, cunt.” You make a sweeping gesture forward, releasing his arm. 

Ben rolls his eyes at you, grinning widely. “Ladies first, Sunshine.”

“I thought I was ‘no Madame’- hey!”

Ben loops his arm through yours, and before you know what’s happening he’s pulling you through the door and towards the van. The Feeling is dazed, crawling through you as everything becomes a very hazy cloud of warm and safe and Ben. He grumbles “don’t these pussies own any other goddamn cars,” and you can feel it hum through you.

You managed to detangle yourself from Ben long enough to haul yourself through the back doors alone, stumbling to sit down at Kimiko’s side as Ben follows you.

“Where’s Frenchie?” You ask her, signing as you nod at the empty spot where he’s usually found.

Butcher hates MapQuest Kimiko signs back with an eye roll. Frenchie has to give him manual directions.

You laugh, and feel the Feeling keen inside you as Ben drops next to you, his knee pushed into yours. 

“What’s funny?” He grunts, and when you turn to look at him, you feel your heart buck in your chest. His face is a lot closer than you expected, and his lips are very pink.

“Butcher’s being an ass,” you manage to say plainly, and Ben snorts. 

“I can fucking hear you, Love,” Butcher calls from the front, and you scoff. “We work for the bloody CIA, you should know better than to trust something with a GPS.”

“The phone has a GPS anyway, dumbass, you’re not combating a surveillance state by getting us lost.” 

Butcher is silent for a second after you respond, and you can see his scowl in the rearview mirror. “That true Hughie?” 

“Uh,” Hughie looks up, startled, from his place at Annie’s side. “Yeah? Most modern tech has some sort of GPS.”

“Huh.” Butcher grunts. “When we get back from this shit, you’re removing mine from my phone, got it?”

Hughie pales. “What?”

Before you can marvel at Butcher’s shockingly inept knowledge of how phones worked, the Feeling returns in a full, electric force, and you realize Ben is leaning into you. 

His voice is a grumble near your ear, and it makes the Feeling burn. “What the fuck is a GPS.”

“Wha-“ you turn to face him, and cut yourself off when you find his face only inches from yours, his eyes watching you with a intensity that makes the Feeling painful.

“GPS,” he grunts, his breath fanning your face. “Cocksucker mention it last time, but nobody will actually fucking explain it.”

You blink. “It’s like a compass? Or a tracker? It tells you where you are on a map with satellites or something.”

Ben smirks. “Did I finally find something you don’t have the answer to, Sunshine?”

“No,” you scowl. “It’s just hard to explain.”

“Sure,” his smile is so wide, so teasing and light, the Feeling wants to make him do that again, just for you, and it takes strained effort to really listen to him. “You’re not scared to admit you’re wrong, are you, brat?”

“I’m never fucking wrong, cunt.” You scowl. “You should know that by now.”

An almost painful craving feeling runs through your heart, and Ben winks. “Of course, Sunshine. I’m not in the business of disagreeing with terrifyingly beautiful women.”

This time, you’re certain you’ve forgotten how to breathe. It really doesn’t feel that vital right now, not when the Feeling is everything and everywhere and writhing around and consuming you, because what does that mean and why did he say it like that and why is he looking at you like that and would he please stop looking at you because it’s very distracting and actually, if he looks away from you your heart might stop working so he needs to stay right there-

Someone says your name, a few times, and you’re forced to find a way to look away from Ben and live with it.

Annie is watching you with a strange look as Hughie stands to talk to Butcher in the front—the GPS argument apparently nowhere close to settled—but she clears her throat and says your name one more time, likely trying to verify your attention.

“What’s up?” Your voice is a lot more hoarse than you’d like, and you chalk it up to not drinking enough water. 

“Butcher told us you could sing?” Annie’s voice is curious, and she doesn’t seem to notice how you tense at her words. “I mean, he seemed really mad about it for some reason, but he said you had a nice voice.”

You cough—feeling Ben’s protective, stone-like resolve run through you—and manage to answer in a steady voice. “I- I can. Kind of. It’s not a big deal-“

“She has the voice of the angels,” Frenchie calls from the front, and the fire starts to itch. “Like a bird song.”

“It’s really not-“

“Do not feel modesty,” oblivious to the edge of anxiety in your voice, Frenchie continues. “It is a rare gift, when we heard it-“

“We?” You cut him off, the itch running into your blood. “How many of you heard it, exactly?”

“Myself, Kimiko, Monsieur Butcher, and Soldier Boy.”

“You weren’t being quiet, Love.” Butcher says over Hughie’s low, exasperated explanation of how hardware works. “Not our fault we heard.”

“Not your fault?” You say incredulously. “Not your fault that you heard me over the cameras you didn’t tell me about?” The van is silent for a second as you glare around at your team, everyone avoiding your gaze. “Did you all know about them?”

“They’re just a precaution,” MM says your name tightly. “For your safety-“

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“It ain’t like we put them in the bloody bathrooms or bedrooms, Love,” Butcher snaps. “We use them to check on you and Soldier Boy once a week, make sure you haven’t bashed each other’s brains in, and that fuckin it.”

“It’s an invasion of fucking privacy!” 

“It’s a CIA safe house,” Butcher sneers. “You expect privacy? Go to a Holiday Inn.”

Ben’s hand finds your thigh right before you can stand from your seat and throw Butcher into oncoming traffic. When you turn to look at him, his own anger moving into yours, he’s giving you a small frown of I’m not fucking happy about it either Sunshine, but you can’t kill Butcher right now.

You glare back at him. Since when are you anti-murder in any circumstance?

He rolls his eyes. Since it would result in you being locked up for murder and me going back in the box. He nudges his leg against yours once more and you realize you can feel the anger, but no drums. Get through all this, and I’ll kill Butcher however you want.

You huff a small laugh, and realize everyone is still silent around you, watching you and Ben with varying looks of confusion. You clear your throat nervously, and make an attempt to divert the conversation. “Frenchie, what’s the name of the place?”

“The Renegade Room,” Frenchie says smugly. “It is a hidden establishment, for those of our discrete nature.”

MM frowns, his voice exasperated. “I keep asking you what ‘discreet nature’ fucking means, and you haven’t given me a straight answer yet.”

“Those who have just as much to lose as their neighbor,” though Frenchie’s tone implies that his answer is simple—obvious even—everyone’s matching expression of confusion tells you they’re as lost as you are.

“Frenchie,” Hughie voices everyone’s concerns with a slow voice. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

Butcher’s voice is stern, angry. “Am I going to have to turn this bloody car ‘round? Because someone going to be made to pay all the fucking gas-“

“Not a car,” Ben mutters from your side, and you roll your eyes. 

“Well, Gov.” Butcher sneers from the front. “Next time we’ll take the real car, and you can ride in the bloody trunk.”

“You try and shove me in a trunk, I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

You sigh. “Can someone figure out what Frenchie means before these two Alpha male each other to death?”

Kimiko nudges your side, and you stick your tongue out at Ben’s scowl before you turn to her.

He told me it’s other supes who have left Vought, other citizens who were burned by them, anyone in hiding. She glares over her shoulder at Frenchie as she signs. Don’t feel bad, he’s not good at explaining it.

You laugh, signing thank you to her before repeating her words aloud.

“Oh,” Hughie is the first to react. “That’s, that’s smart Frenchie.”

“Oui, Petite Hughie. Teach all you imbeciles to doubt me.”

Everyone slowly returns to their conversations, Hughie giving up on his argument with Butcher and joining Annie and MM’s discussion about acceptable club music, and Ben hanging over your shoulder as you turn back to Kimiko.

What did Annie do to get you here? You sign, and she gives you a smile.

She bought me a dress. She gestures proudly to her outfit. And makeup. With lots of glitter.

You laugh. I got a similar treatment. And you look very nice.

So do you. Kimiko glances at Ben, who’s attempting to both sit pressed against you—as if you might vanish into thin air—and look completely disinterested in you and Kimiko’s silent conversation. Did he tell you look nice?

You feel heat on your face, and you blink at her. No. I mean, kind of? Why?

Kimiko shrugs. Just curious.

For a second you consider mentioning the “terrifyingly beautiful” thing, but the van jerks to a stop, the engine shutting off as Butcher stands. 

“Alright, ground rules Boys. No one gets drunk enough to cause a scene. Everyone stays close in case we need to make a quick exit. Frenchie, no drug dealing, this ain’t a business trip. MM, no cleaning the space, it’s a bloody futile effort. Hughie, try and let loose, or at least pretend you enjoy this. Starlight, keep your head down, we don’t need your celebrity status bitin us in the arse again.” Butcher says your name, giving you a glare the others didn’t receive. “No touching people, no going postal, either you or Frenchie are with the Female all the time, and keep your fucking boy toy in line. Soldier Boy, stick with her, and no explosions. Actually,” Butcher gives everyone a sharp glare. “That goes for all you cunts.”

You can feel Ben tensing at your side, his tight anger pounding with your heart, and the Feeling proves once more to be unhelpful as it decides to focus purely on how close he is to you.

“Does he always give such stupid fucking pep talks before everything these pussies do?” Ben mutters in your ear, and you kick his shin, failing to suppress your snort.

“Yeah, he does.” You look up in surprise at MM, who had stood to exit the van and apparently heard Ben’s comment. He doesn’t spare either of you a look, grumbling something about the Spice Girls as he continues on his way.

“Let us get the show on the road, non?” Frenchie stops before you and Kimiko, offering a hand down. “Mon Coeur?”

Kimiko smiles at him as she takes his hand, looping her arm through his, and they follow MM out of the van. 

“Are they fucking?” Ben asks, watching them as they leave.

You frown. “I honestly don’t know.”

He snorts, standing up. “They look like they’re fucking.” You roll your eyes, ignoring the Feeling sulking at the loss of his touch. You’re about to give him a snarky comment—probably about how his perception skills don’t have a very high success rate, because for the first month you lived together he refused to hear that Hughie and Butcher weren’t married—but your words die in your throat when Ben extends his hand down, holding right before you.

You look up at him, blinking as Hughie stumbles past Ben in the background. What are you doing?

He glares at you. Don’t make a damn scene, Sunshine. Just fucking take my hand before Butcher yells at us for being too slow.

You wrinkle your nose at him, but take Ben’s hand slowly, yelping in surprise as he grips you firmly, pulling you to your feet. You fall right into his chest, and the Feeling is thirsty again, restless inside you, making everything feel very solid and secure and he smells good and his hand is rough around you and would it feel this nice against other parts of your body? What would you need to say to get him to touch other parts of your body? He looks hungry again, maybe if you just asked-

“Oi, we ain’t got all night!” Butcher calls from outside. “Some of us have shit we want to do.”

Even the Feeling, still desperate inside of you, falls silent at that. You have things to do. Butcher’s almost ready. 

“We’re coming!” You call out, and don’t bother to remove yourself fully from Ben—you’re not sure the Feeling would allow you to—choosing to just tug him after you. The night air is cold, the wind is biting, and Ben’s warmth at your back makes it a lot harder to get the Feeling to calm down. There’s a harsh, putrid smell in the air that is completely covered by pine trees and coffee and Ben, and you’re so consumed by it, by the Feeling, you almost don’t realize the van is parked at the edge of a junkyard.

At first glance, the “club” looks suspiciously like an abandoned Blockbuster. There’s yellow caution tape all over the building, the windows are boarded up, and a Danger! Biohazard: Infectious Waste sign is hung on the doors. Frenchie ignores it, pushing right into the building, and everyone follows with apprehensive steps. 

The inside doesn’t improve anyone’s faith. There’s dust, grime, mold, and cobwebs at every corner and turn, you hear a scratching sound beneath your feet, those are definitely cracks on the walls, and something smells like dead fish.

“Frenchie, you fucker,” MM looks like he’s about to vomit, and you don’t think you’re faring much better. “If this is a prank I with beat your ass so goddamn hard-“

“Have a little faith, mon amie,” Frenchie cuts MM off, ignoring the daggers MM continues to glare at his head. “It is just right-“ You jump as Frenchie topples one of the empty shelves to the ground with a loud thud. “Here. Mon Coeur?”

Kimiko rolls her eyes, but moves to pick up the shelf with ease and pulls it aside as Frenchie pushes at the wall, which swings open to reveal a staircase.

“This is some James Bond bullshit.” MM grunts.

“Take it or leave it, Mate.” Butcher peers down the staircase, where you can hear the deep sounds of a bass and see occasional flashes of light. “I, for one, am thrilled. Bloody good work, Frenchie.”

As you descend the poorly lit, steep staircase, you and Ben trail at the back, and it occurs to you around half-way down that he still has an iron-like grip on your hand, that the stone-like resolve hasn’t left him—left you—and may be the only thing keeping you upright at this point. You glance up at him, elbowing him lightly until he returns your gaze.

You raise your eyebrows at him, hoping he can still read your expression in the darkness. No drums?

He frowns slightly. No. How the fuck did you know about that?

Felt it. You squeeze his hand in reminder. I think that means my experiment is working.

He rolls his eyes. Or maybe I just don’t have shell shock, brat.

Or maybe I’m never fucking wrong, cunt. You stick your tongue out, and swear the shadows play a cruel trick where his eyes fall and linger on your mouth. 

He winks at you, and your heart flails in its usual perfect rhythm with the Feeling. Before you can read his face is trying to tell you, he tugs you back slightly—right into his side—and you realize you’d been about to run head-first into Hughie’s back.

“Welcome, my friends, to The Renegade Room.” Frenchie does a wide sweeping gesture to the scene before you and you step a little further back, caught only by Ben’s arm around you.

If someone had asked you in the van to describe your expectations, you would have been dead on the money. Colorful, strobing lights, casting a neon glow. Sweaty, bouncing bodies crowded in the center of the room. The beat of the music carving deep, deep into your chest and running across your bones. Your’e clinging to Ben, half because he’s making no effort to remove himself from you, and half because if he does decide to let go you’re pretty sure you’ll freeze in a very inconvenient place. The Feeling tries to pull your body closer to him, even though his arm is slung around your shoulders and you’re still gripping his hand where it rests near your neck. 

Frenchie leads the group to one of the velvet-seated booths, wrapped in a smoky haze and completed with a round table that has a few stains that cause MM to clasp his hand firmly in his lap, scowling at the surface. 

You scoot in after Hughie, Ben following right behind you, never letting go. Annie remains standing, looking around the club before shouting over the music.

“Frenchie! Drinks?!”

Frenchie gestures to follow him, disappearing with Annie and Kimiko into the crowd.

“None of those fuckers listened to my ’stay close’ shit?” Butcher grumbles, and you sneer at him.

“We’re not fucking gazelle, Butcher, we’re people. People are going to wander.”

He glares at you, eyes narrowing as he looks you over, Ben’s arm still around you. Butcher snorts, shaking his head, and whatever cruel comment had been about to escape his mouth is cut off by Hughie’s nervous shouting.

“Are all these people fugitives from Vaught?” He’s leaning up, scanning the crowd. “Even, like, the bartenders?”

MM shrugs. “Probably. It works in our favor, kid, don’t worry.”

Hughie gives a reluctant nod, but doesn’t stop eyeing the patrons wearily.  

“I’m getting a bloody drink.” Butcher stands, giving you own last scowl. “I'll see you lot later. MM?”

MM grunts, standing as well, and they disappear in the same direction the others went, leaving you, Ben, and Hughie alone at the table.

“Um,” Hughie looks between you nervously. “Thank you for doing this, I know it’s weird, but-“

“Hello. there” Hughie is cut off by a bright eyed woman appearing before you, smiling down sweetly. “You three are new. We don’t get a lot of new people.”

“Well, doll, let’s just say we know a guy.” Ben drawls, and the Feeling becomes tight and bitter. 

She laughs, and the sound is sweet like a bell and grinds in your brain. “How did we all get here, hm?” She leans down, giving everyone a perfect, white-toothed smile. “What’s our story?”

Ben looks at you, Hughie follows his lead, and—you’re not sure why—apparently you’ve been volunteered to answer.

“Supes,” you point between you and Ben. “That Vought doesn’t like very much. Dude,” you point at Hughie. “Whose girlfriend got collaterally-damaged.”

“Hm,” she tilts her head, hair falling in perfect waves. “What kind of supes? Would I have heard of you?”

You answer before Ben can, sensing his wave of indigence wash through you. “Nope. Vought didn’t really have interest in making us public. I’m not very charismatic and I can’t lie.” Ben snorts, and you jab an elbow into his gut. “And this guy pees when he gets attention. Side-effect of the V, not very marketable.”

The woman blinks, and Ben gives you a fucking really, Sunshine? glower.

You give him a fake, wide-eyed look of innocence. What’s wrong, Pretty Boy? Did I say something?

He rolls his eyes. Brat.

Before you can give him a sickly-sweet smile of cunt, the woman is speaking again.

“I can deal with a little golden shower. You only fuck supes, Handsome? Or do mortals like me get a chance?” Ben blinks at her, and she leans forward, a sultry smile that feels like toxins in your body playing on her lips. “How about drugs? You do drugs?” 

Ben gives her a wide grin, something vile runs through your blood, and Hughie coughs.

“That’s my cue. I’m going to find Annie.” All but running from the table, Hughie vanishes into the fray as well, and it’s just you and Ben.

You, Ben, and the woman looking at Ben like he’s meat and she’s hungry.

“What’s on the menu?” Ben is smiling, and though it’s a colder smile than you’ve seen on his face in a while, it still makes the Feeling hiss inside you. 

The woman pulls out small bags from the top of her dress. “Whatever you want, darling.” The Feeling hates that more than handsome. Ben is handsome, that was just a factual statement. It haunted you how handsome he was, because it made it harder to dismiss the Feeling as just Ben is safe. It made the Feeling thirsty, and you violent. Her calling him darling was like a grip around your head, hot and brutal and constricting.

“Fucking hell, finally.” Ben grabs the bag with his free hand, and starts to examine it. “Coke?”

“Cut with a little something special,” the woman winks, and gives you a once over. “Your arm candy want some too?”

“As well,” Ben grunts, still looking at the baggie, and you feel a rush of amusement run through him. “And she’ll probably want to answer that herself.”

The woman looks at you fully, and you give a half-hearted shrug. 

“I think I’m good, thanks.” You shout, voice still hardly audible over the club. “I, uh, I’m not a huge coke person.”

She scoffs, turning her attention back to Ben. “You want some less uptight company, pretty boy?”

It’s not just the Feeling that hates that. Your teeth are clenched, you can feel your nails digging into your skin, you’re not sure if the smoke surrounding you is from you or just general club smoke. The Feeling is chanting something about throwing the woman across the room, punching out all her perfect teeth, and burning out her shining eyes. You’re on board with it.

“I’m good, doll.” Ben’s voice cuts through your gory fantasies, and his smile has returned down to you. “She’s plenty fun, aren’t you Sunshine?”

You blink stupidly, and make a weak sound of acknowledgment. The Feeling is still loud in your head, you can feel something shockingly strong running in your heart, and Ben is telling the woman he’s good but you can feel a hunger that doesn’t belong to the Feeling, a hunger you’ve only felt when the thirst had been unbearably strong. Lust. Ben was telling the woman he was good but he was feeling lust.

The woman just gives a simpering smile in your direction. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Only Ben’s arm, still around your shoulder as he dumps out the contents of the bag, stops you from leaping over the table and killing her.

You look back at Ben, still the lust still lingering as the woman disappears, and watch his frustratingly attractive side-profile as he examines the white powder on the table. 

“Looks legit?” He grunts, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s a question.

“I mean, it looks like cocaine. But it could just be, like, drywall.” Ben snorts, and unwelcome pride rushes through you. “I don’t know why you’re asking me, I’m not exactly a drug expert, Pretty Boy.” You say the last words firmer than you mean to, likely because the Feeling needs to make sure he hears them.

He hums, glancing back at you. “You sure you don’t want some? I’m willing to share.”

“Aren’t you just a pillar of charity?” You mumble, and he gives you a flat look. “No, Ben, I don’t want cocaine that was given to me in a shady club by a random woman who was keeping it in her boobs.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “You always call it cocaine, Sunshine?”

“What else am I supposed to call it?” You frown, and Ben chuckles.

“Coke. Like every other fucker on the planet. Do you call meth “methamphetamine’?”

“So what if I do?” You snapped, and he just laughs, giving you a wink before removing his arm from around you and diving nose-first into the white pile. The Feeling whines from the loss of his touch, and your nails would probably have scarred your skin if you were still human.

He comes up, wiping the drugs from his face. “Shit, that’s good. You fucking sure you don’t want a hit, Sunshine? It won’t affect you now, not like any normal human pussy.”

“I like to keep a firm rule about the boob-drug thing. I’m good.”

Ben just shrugs, and you feel him press his thigh fully against yours. The Feeling is calmed by the action, and makes you watch him in a trance-like state as he leans back against the booth cushions. There’s still a little powder caught in his beard, and the Feeling wants to wipe it off and offer it to him on your fingers-

“I didn’t think of Starlight as a boob-drug club type.” He raises his brows at you. “What made her decide to be less of a prudish bitch?”

“She’s just stressed,” you answer nonchalantly. “There’s slim-pickings for venues we can all attend, and I’d hazard a guess that almost all of them would be clubs of the boob-drug variety.”

Ben laughs loudly, the one that always lingers in your chest and that the Feeling drinks like fuel. He takes another snort—thigh still firmly against yours—and looks like he’s going to say something when he comes back up, but his attention gets caught in front of you. 

You follow his gaze and find Annie, a lot more smiley than you’ve ever seen her, watching you with wide-eyes.

“Annie are you-“

She says your name, her voice a bright and bubbly tone you’ve ever heard on TV. “Come dance!”

You frown. “I’m not supposed to leave Ben.”

“Oh, come onnn.” Annie’s words are slightly slurred, her smile too bright. “Everyone’s breaking Butcher’s stupid rules, if MM can start organizing the bar and Frenchie can hand out bathroom-pills, you can leave Soldier Boy for one dance.”

Ben nudges your shoulder, looking at you in mock hurt. “One dance, Sunshine. Do you not think I can behave myself for one dance?” 

You wrinkle your nose at him. Unhelpful.

He gives you a teasing, lop-sided smile. You said you’d have so much fun it would blow my mind. 

So? You scowl.

Dance, Sunshine. Have some fun. He looks back at Annie. “She’s coming.”

Annie squeals, and—giving Ben a dirty look as you do—you shuffle out of the booth. “This is peer pressure.” You mutter under your breath, and catch Ben’s huff of amusement.

You look at him as you stand, just long enough to see his wink of have fun, brat before Annie is pulling you into the throes of the crowd. 

Everything turns into a flash of furious and lustful and mournful and guilty and elation as you’re rammed through the dance floor, and your skin becomes coated in stress, starting from where Annie grips your wrist.

She releases you when you stop at the bar, leaning over the counter to wave someone down. You rub where she’d been holding you, the anxiety still humming through you.

“Annie, if you need to talk-“

“What's going on with you and Soldier Boy?” She shouts over your attempt, giving you a dizzy smile. “Is Butcher right? Are you fucking?”

You stare at her. “Jesus Christ, no, Annie, we’re not fucking.”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

“No!” Your voice is high, and you ignore the Feeling spinning resentfully inside of you. “Annie, what is going on with you-“

“Hughie told me that you two keep making ‘heart-eyes’ at each other,” she pokes your shoulder, and the stress jolts through you. “And he was right! You totally make heart-eyes!”

“No, we don’t. Annie, you have to stop touching me, I think you keep forgetting-“

“I don’t keep ‘forgetting’,” her voice is exasperated as she says your name. “I just don’t care!” She giggles, and your concern grows. “And you’re trying to change the subject!”

“I’m not, I’m just worried-“

“Did he Stockholm synonym you? Is that it?”

“Stockholm syndrome,” you correct with a small frown. “And I think technically I Stockholmed Ben-“

“See!” Annie grabs your hands between hers. “You call him Ben. Like he’s a person!”

The Feeling doesn’t like that, and you tense defensively. “He is a person, Annie.”

She nods. “And you’re fucking him.”

“I’m not fucking him!” Your protests are growing weaker, and you chalk it up to Annie’s persistence. 

“You let him touch you!” She squeezed your hands. “Like, all the time.”

“Because he doesn’t care.” You say firmly. “If you weren’t seven-plus shots into the night, you wouldn’t be touching me, Annie. Because I can feel that there’s something wrong with you. Please just talk to me-“

“No!” She shouts, her grip on you becoming slightly painful. “I just want to have fun! I’ve never gotten to have fun! I’ve never had normal friends and had normal fun so can we please just dance?!” She says your name in a pleading tone. “I just want to dance with my friend.”

You blink. “I, um, I didn’t know we were friends.” You glance back at her hands, still around yours. “You’re kind of, you act like you’re afraid of me usually.”

Annie’s face falters for a second, and you feel her guilt rush through her. She says your name a little sadly, looking at you with big eyes. “Your powers are scary. Really, really scary. You’re kind of scary. But I still want to be your friend.”

Your chest squeezes. “I don’t think most of the others agree with that sentiment, Annie. I don’t want to ostracize you any more.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You mean fucking Butcher? That asshole will get over it.”

“But-“

Annie says your name in the strongest tone you’ve heard her use since you arrived. “Everyone else is scared of you, because you’re scary.”

“Calling me scary isn’t a great way to tell me you want to be my friend-“

“But they don’t hate you. Kimiko loves you, Frenchie likes that Kimiko loves you, MM isn’t a huge fan of you and Soldier Boy fucking-“

“We’re not-“

She presses a finger to your lip. “But he still respects you. He thinks you’re okay. Hughie’s nervous because that man is always nervous-“ She sighs dreamily at nothing, words becoming slightly more slurred. “But he thinks you’re cool.”

You hum an acknowledgment through your lips, and Annie pulls back.

“Now can we please dance? Like normal people?”

You give her a smile, and it’s not forced. “Yeah, we can dance like normal people.”

Annie pulls you from the bar, right to the center of the dance floor, and starts dancing a little off-beat. Laughing, you grab her arms, moving her onto the rhythm of the song rolling through the club. Time turns into a blur, and you feel light. Everything is just the music and bubbly laughter and dancing in a way you haven’t in three years. You can’t sing, but you can move. Swaying and bouncing in time with the music, lost in the bass and the lights. You’re sweaty, and your hard work from the afternoon is probably ruined, and you’re a little breathless, but it feels just stupid and easy and fun. You’re not drunk—you can’t be anymore—but everything feels easy. The Feeling sneaks up on you, and suddenly you’re missing him again. You’re having fun, and the Feeling is suddenly painfully insistent that he be at your side, having fun with you.

You stumble away from Annie, stopping at the edge of the crowd as you look for Ben. It’s a little worrying how easy you find where he’s still sat, the white pile almost entirely gone from the table. Your brain is so full of the Feeling, repeating his name in a harmony of Ben, Ben, Ben, that you almost miss that he’s not alone. 

The lady with the sweet smile and bright eyes is next to him, where you had been. You can see the pearl of her smile from where you’re standing, imagine the honey-like drip of her voice. Ben’s arms aren’t around her, rested on the table as he speaks, but you can’t see his legs, and the Feeling is kicking at your gut.

You’re frozen for a second, and you hear a voice from somewhere to your side. 

“Ready for our chat, Love?"

You turn sharply, and see Butcher’s humorless, cold smile for only a second before he’s grabbing your arm, tugging you roughly away from Ben, past the crowd, and into a broom closet. He lets go like you’ve burned him—you’re certain you didn’t—and toss the rag he’d been using to the side.

“What the fuck, Butcher?!” You hiss as he shakes out his hand. “You couldn’t have just asked me to follow you?!”

“You were mooning over Soldier Boy like a damn puppy. Couldn’t risk him seeing us and asking stupid fucking questions.” Butcher gives you a smirk. “You two kiss and make up about your little lie?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Boy, he was bloody pissed.” Butcher laughs mockingly. “Was real fucking worried about you, Love. Made us put on the cam audio cause he was so fuckin worried.” He sneers the last words, and you cross your arms across your chest, violating shutting down how Butcher’s words make the Feeling warm with images of Ben and the woman with the perfect smile.

“Our conversation about cameras isn’t fucking over, you asshole.” You snap, and Butcher scoffs.

“Please, it ain’t going to even fucking matter soon, is it now?” He meets your glare with another crude grin. “And you’re the forgiving type, Love, aren’t you. You forgave Soldier Boy for his little lie about the meeting.”

You grit your teeth. “Yeah, I did.”

“And he forgave you about the singing shit?”

“Yep.” You hold his gaze, the itch of heat under your skin starting to build.

Butcher smile is all teeth and cold mockery and bored hatred. “He doesn’t know what he was really forgiving you for, does he?”

You can see smoke curling around you. “Shut the fuck up, Butcher. Let’s just get this over with.”

He rolls his eyes, but his face falls into seriousness. “Fine, Love, suck all the fuckin fun out of it. It’ll be ready in nine days.”

“Nine days?” You take a deep, jagged breath and the fire crawls around your head. “And you’re sure it will work. We only get one fucking chance, Butcher, you have to be certain—“

“I am certain,” he hisses. “Everything is lined up perfectly. The opening is in nine days, I’ll take the Boys on a wild goose chase, and this will fucking work.”

You nod slowly, and the air feels like poison in your lungs. “What about Ben?”

“Well,” Butcher jeers. “It looks like the little bloody bond you two formed is going to work in our favor. And if it doesn’t we’ll lock him in the safe house and figure out some sort of gas-gun. It won’t be your fucking problem either way.”

“What if Ryan doesn’t listen?” You whisper in a futile attmept to keep the fear from your voice. “What it doesn’t work-“ “That boy loved his mother.” Butcher’s voice is firm, and there’s something distant in his glare. “He’ll listen.”

“He doesn’t know me-“

“You getting fucking cold feet? On your own fucking plan?”

“No,” you snap. “I just want to prepare for every fucking hurdle so I’m not throwing myself in front of a train just for you to fuck me, Butcher.”

“It’s going to fucking work.” Butcher says, jaw clenched. “Nine days.”

You pull yourself together with a too-long, too-heavy breath. “Nine days.”

Butcher exits the closet before you do, leaving the fire clawing through you, blurring the world. You close your eyes, desperate to regain some semblance of control. 

City lights. Music. City lights. Music. City lights. Music.

Ben.

Your eyes shoot open, and the Feeling starts the chew through the fire. City lights, music, Ben. The itch starts to wane, so you let the Feeling take over.

City lights, music, Ben. City lights, and music, and Ben.

Ben.

You’re grounded. Everything is clear, the fire is gone—you’ll deal with the implications of what did those things later—and so you exit the closet. You can’t go back to the booth—not if Ben and the woman are still there, because it might make something rotten wake up inside you—so you wander, looking for Annie. You find her clinging to Hughie in a corner, arms around him with her head in his chest, and decide to leave them be. A few minutes later you see Kimiko, standing vigilantly outside the toilets, and a relieved breath escapes you. You start to duck and weave through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathrooms, and are intercepted by Ben as you run head-first into his chest.

“Ow!” You try to push back from him, but he grabs your arm with a firm look. You peer at the expression on his face, a lot more stoic than you anticipated, and you feel that concrete concern of his, along with something hard in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been looking for you for fifteen goddamn minutes, Sunshine.” He snaps, ignoring your question. “Where the fuck did you go?”

You give a loose shrug, trying not to let the Feeling and it’s need for Ben to keep holding your arm distract you. “Bathroom.” You say lamely.

“Bullshit, you’re going towards the bathroom right now.”

“They were out of tampons, there was a girl who needed some.” 

He narrows his eyes at you as he scans your body, and it makes the Feeling feral. “Where are they then?”

“Huh?” The Feeling is starting to be a cognitive issue, because your brain feels fuzzy from Ben’s touch. “Where’s what.”

“The fucking tampons.”

“They were out. I’m going to tell her to do the toilet paper method.” You take a gamble that Ben’s prevalent disinterest in what he calls women shit will work in your favor. And it does.

Ben grunts, and though you feel the thing in your chest loosen, the concern prevails and he doesn’t release you. “Once you do that, we’re leaving.”

You blink at him in surprise. “What about boob-drugs?” Your voice is a little louder than it needs to be, and Ben just frowns with a shrug.

“Wasn’t interested,” he says gruffly, looking down at you. The intensity of his gaze, combined with this information, was not helpful to controlling the Feeling, which started to move in time with your heart once more. 

“Okay,” you sound breathless. “I’ll just, um, bathroom.” 

He nods sternly, and you clear your throat.

“Benjamin.”

“What.”

“You’re welcome to join me on my endeavor, but if you’re not interested in talking about the toilet-paper method with some random girl-“ You gesture pointedly to his hold on your arm. 

He gives you a blank look for a moment, and you watch the pieces fall into place in his head. He releases your arms mechanically, and gives you a tense nod. As you walk to the bathroom Ben trails at your side, posture more rigid than you’ve ever seen it. Kimiko smiles when she sees you approaching, signing a greeting. You smile back, offering one of your own.

Do you need to pee? She glanced up at Ben beside you. Does he need to pee? 

No, you glance at Ben watching you both intently. I just need to go in for like two minutes. I told Ben I was helping a girl that doesn’t exist.

She frowns. Why? 

He lost me in the crowd when he was doing drugs. Got weird about it. A half-truth, you reason, it better than an outright lie. I’ll just be in and out.

“What are you saying?” Ben grumbles, glaring between you. 

“Don’t worry about it, Pretty Boy.” You say aloud, signing damn man-baby to Kimiko, who giggles.

He scowls. “Is she going to let you go in or do I need to fucking move her?”

Kimiko flips him off, telling you just say I’m telling you it’s fine. You don’t want to go in there anyways, Frenchie’s doing drugs.She frowns. Or dealing drugs. Or both.

“Apparently someone already helped the girl, Kimiko saw her leave.” You give her a grateful nod, turning back to Ben. “We can go wait at the booth until everyone is ready-“

“No.” He snaps, and you blink in surprise. “We’re leaving now.”

“We all came here together, there’s only one car-“

“I don’t give a shit, Sunshine, we’re leaving. Even if we have to steal the shitty fucking pussy-Mobile to do it.”

You feel Kimiko whack your arm, signing when you turn to her. Do you want me to tell Frenchie to drive you home again? 

You shake your head. No, it’s fine. 

You can’t call a taxi, she signs your name with a frown. And he looks angry.

He’s being a child, he’ll be fine. As you sign to Kimiko, you say aloud to Ben, “we’re not stealing the van, Ben.”

“What about boob-drugs’ car?”

You look at him with a frown. “What?”

“She told me she had a blue Lexmus. We can take that.”

“Lexmus?” You tilt your head. “Do you mean a Lexus?”

“Is that a car?” You nod, and he shrugs. “Then fucking sure.”

“We’re not stealing a random ladies car either!” You protest. “And we can’t just leave-“

Kimiko grabs your attention again, signing I could cover for you, and I don’t think Butcher would care if you stole a car.

You wave her off, but Ben catches on. “She’s agreeing with me, isn’t she?”

“No, she isn’t.” Your insistence is immediately undermined by Kimiko nodding vigorously. What the hell? You sign, and she shrugs.

You look tired, and we might be a few more hours. Let Soldier Boy take you home. 

You sigh, rubbing your face as you look back at Ben. “If I agree to this, if, I’m driving.”

He nods. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Sunshine.” He extends his hand, you shake it reluctantly, and before you can pull back he’s pulling you through the crowd and up the stairs. 

It takes you shockingly little time to find boob-drugs’ Lexus, partially because it’s an electric-blue luxury car parked in a sea of sketchy vans and beaten down Honda Civics, partially because Ben says she parked it towards the back of the yard and is able to make a direct path to it. His hand is in yours the entirety of the walk, a fact that manages to push down the bitterness the Feeling has about him knowing where the car is parked. Ben removes his hand from yours only when you reach the car itself, and smashes through the glass on the window in one clean punch.

“Fucking christ, Ben, warn a lady!” You jump back as the glass flies through the air, the car alarm blaring through the night.

Ben leans through the window, gashes on his face and hands quickly healing as he unlocks the car. “Don’t be dramatic, brat.” He dismisses. “You heal just as fast as I do.”

You frown as he kneels down below the dashboard. “Are you sure you know how to do this? This isn’t some dogshit muscle car, this has like, actual security.”

“Looks the damn same,” he grunts. “I’ll figure it out, Sunshine. Don’t fucking worry.”

You rub your shoulders, looking around the junkyard anxiously. “Why do you know how to do this again?”

He just shrugs. “I’m from Philly.”

“That’s not a real explanation, Pretty Boy.”

“Wasn’t much to do for fun when I was a kid. We didn’t have all the shitty modern toys kids have today.”

“So you stole cars? Weren’t you rich?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I mean, you could’ve just bought one-“

Ben looks up at you with a scowl. “You think my father would’ve given me money to buy a car?”

“No,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

He sighs. “Stop fucking apologizing all the damn time, Sunshine. Remember, you’re never wrong.” Though his voice is teasing, it’s not covered in a cold sarcasm, making the Feeling buzz. You’re about to push him for more answers when the engine hums to life, and Ben sits up, giving you a cocky wink. “Fucking told you. Never doubt me again, brat.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, cunt. Get out of my seat.”

“No,” Ben settles into the driver’s seat, looking up at you smugly. “I think I’ll drive.”

“You dick, you fucking shook on it-“

“You’re tired,” Ben says your name with a bored voice, and very suddenly exhaustion hits you through your body. He really needs to stop doing that.

“No, I’m not.” You manage to fight the urge to yawn as you protest. “And you can’t drive.”

He glares at you. “Yes, I fucking can.”

“Not legally.”

“Nothing about this is fucking ‘legal’.”

“Benjamin, the last time you drove was the fucking 80s.”

“So?”

“Cars aren’t the same.”

He gives the interior of the car a frown. “Looks the fucking same to me.” He turns back to you. “And I’m not letting you behind the wheel, you look like you’re about to damn collapse.”

“Oh, fuck off Ben, you don’t give a shit about safe-driving.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “You’re still not fucking driving.”

“You’re just being an ass-“ You cut yourself off, the yawn fighting its way to the surface. At Ben’s smug look, you scowl. “Shut up.”

“Get in the car before I have to make you.”

The Feeling likes that idea, and in your exhaustion it’s harder to resist it. “You don’t even know how to get home.”

“You’ll help me.” Ben’s tone lacks any doubt, and you hate that he’s right. “Get in the fucking car.”

You glare at him, but stumble around to the passenger’s side, practically falling into the seat. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open long enough to pull up directions—especially as Ben’s hand finds your thigh as you fumble with your phone—and almost the second after you explain that all Ben has to do it listen to the robot lady’s voice, sleep starts to tug at the corners of your eyes. 

You hear a soft chuckle from Ben. “Sleep well, Sunshine.” And something soft runs through your body as his voice falls through your head.

Everything is covered in the smoking haze of the club, but there’s no music, no blinding lights, no one else in the area but you. You and Ben.

He’s grinning down at you, arm around you again, and you feel light-headed. Because all his attention is on you, and though there’s no one else in the club, you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter. He’d just keep looking at you.

“Terrifyingly beautiful.” His voice has an odd echo to it as he speaks. “Aren’t you, Sunshine.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is confident, silky, and his smile widens.

“Not so bad, huh? Not frustratingly handsome?”

“Maybe. Not sure yet.”

Ben’s mouth is suddenly hovering right over your own, and it looks soft, curving into a smirk. “Anything I can do to convince you?”

“What do you have in mind?”

His mouth crashes into yours, and it’s perfect. It fits like it was made to be there, it moves like it’s been there a thousand times. You moan his name, and he just pushes deeper in, pulling you onto his lap like you’re made of nothing.

“Perfect,” Ben groans against your lip. “Fucking perfect.”

You whimper, and he chuckles as you start to grind against his thigh. “Ben-“

“Needy thing, aren’t you?” He moves from your mouth, starting to kiss sloppily down your neck. “Gonna beg, Sunshine? Ask nicely for me to fuck you?”

“I hate you-“

“No you don’t,” he nips at your skin.

“Ben-“

“Say please, beautiful. Tell me you want me.”

“Fuck you-“

“That doesn’t sound like please.”

You gasp, because his hands are everywhere. Tangled in your hair, tracing along your skin, running over your ass. His thigh is pushed fully into your core, but he’s gripping you too firmly, stopping you from chasing release. “Please,” the words are choked with desire. “Please, Ben, please.”

He laughs, a deep, satisfied sound that echoes everywhere. “A little more.”

You moan, clinging to his arms desperately. “Ben, please. Fuck me, please fuck me.”

He pulls back from your neck, grinning widely down at you for only a second before crashing his mouth back into yours. “Good girl,” Ben grunts against your lips, and suddenly you’re not in the booth anymore. You’re at home, in your bed, and he’s fully naked above you, smirking down at your body as he takes it in.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, and you’re flying. Ben is everywhere, everything. Nothing has felt like this, nothing will feel like this ever again. It’s so painfully hazy, like a cloud is over the world and every single touch along your skin and kiss against your lips or neck or cunt is wiped away, but you’re so high. It’s just Ben, Ben, Ben, with groans and hands and safe and warm and Ben. His face is above yours, watching you with hooded, hungry eyes as you feel full, and holding so gently in contrast with every other movement of his body. He kisses you again, and it’s deep and heavy and Ben.

Ben. Ben. You’re not thirsty anymore, you’ll never be thirsty for the rest of your life, because this is everything. Ben.

Ben.

Light leaks into your vision, chasing away the haze. You don’t really know how, but you’ve woken in your own bed, sheets clinging to the sweat of your body and sleep running away from your brain. You feel Ben before you see him. He’s asleep at your side, arm hanging loosely across your body. His head is pressed into the pillow, hair falling across his face, and you want to run your hands through it. The remnants of your dream linger, pushing to the front of your head, and you feel your face flush as you fail to pull your gaze from him. The Feeling felt so peaceful, Ben smells good, and he’s right here. With you. And you can’t bring yourself to move.

You simply lay in bed for an immeasurable amount of time, and realize that both you and Ben are in the same clothes from last night. You manage to grope around your bedside table for your phone without disturbing Ben, and sighing wearily as you see a barrage of texts and missed calls. 

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever (4) missed calls. Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions (2) missed calls. Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy (3) missed calls.

Kimiko: Second Hottest Person on the Team

Told Frenchie

Annie January: Arm Wrestling Champion

Frenchie said you and Soldier Boy left in a stolen car?

Are you safe?

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

Can you tell Annie you’re home?

She’s losing her mind.

Also Butcher.

He’s mad.

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever 

You and Soldier Boy have a fun joyride?

Fucking call me.

MM and Hughie are heading over to the safe house. Someone’s looking for you.

You blink at the last message. Someone’s looking for you. You swipe the screen, trying to see the time Butcher sent the text, and panic runs through you as you read 9:45 AM.

It’s nearly noon. 

You poke Ben, and he grunts, arm around you tightening. 

“Ben.” You hiss, shaking him. “Wake up.”

“Fuck off, Sunshine.” He mumbles, and the Feeling is comfortable in your chest.

You push through it. “Benjamin, wake the fuck up.” Nothing. You raise your voice from a hushed whisper. “I’ll burn you again, Pretty Boy, I swear to God.” 

That gets him to open his eyes. “Will you never just fucking let me sleep?”

“I think MM and Hughie are downstairs.”

Ben frowns. “Why?”

“Because Butcher texted that they were coming over two hours ago.” You poke him with your foot, and it occurs to you that your legs are a little more tangled than you’d originally noticed. “Can you listen for them?”

“It’s too fucking early, Sunshine.”

“It’s noon.” When Ben only huffs, you give him a pleading look. “Please?”

He groans, closing his eyes. For a second you think he’s just going back to sleep, but he mutters, “Two people downstairs. Can’t tell who.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he makes a low sound from his chest that doesn’t aid your motivation to get up. “Ben, I need to move.”

“Why.” His voice is rough, and makes the Feeling flutter.

“I need to talk to Hughie and MM. They’ve probably been waiting a while.”

“Then they can wait a little fucking longer.”

“Please.” He doesn’t move, holding you tighter. “Ben, you don’t have to up get yourself. You can stay here.”

You feel something run through you—him—that’s taut and almost bitter. Your heart rumbles, and the Feeling wants to sooth the sleepy frown that flashes across Ben’s face, but before you can he’s rolling over, detaching his body from yours.

You hesitate to move, but your phone buzzes with another text that forces your body to roll off the bed.

Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions

Get your ass up so me and Hughie can fucking leave.

You shuffle unsteadily out of your bedroom and down the stairs, and rubbing your sleep-puffed face in a desperate attempt to pull any lingering sleep from your head. MM and Hughie are sitting stiffly on the couch, looking remarkably uncomfortable as they wait. You clear your throat, and they shoot to their feet in attention.

“Finally,” MM glared at you. “We’ve been waiting for fucking hours.”

You give a guilty cringe, still wiping sleep from your eyes. “Sorry guys, I didn’t know you were here.”

“How did you get home?” Hughie asks tentatively, and you blink at him.

“Ben stole a car. I know I shouldn’t have let him, but-“

Hughie interrupts your apology. “A car?”

“Um. Yeah. Blue Lexus.” You look between their confused expressions. “Is it not outside?”

“No,” Hughie frowns. “Are you sure-“

“Kid, we don’t have time for this.” MM gives Hughie a firm look. “They both got home, no one died, how it happened ain’t our fucking concern right now.” Hughie gives a small nod, and the quiet anxiety on his face sparks concern in your chest.

“What’s going on?” You ask nervously. “Is everyone ok?”

MM sighs. “Everyone’s fine. And we were hoping you could tell us what’s going on.” 

You frown, but nod for him to continue. MM takes a large breath, looking at his phone as he speaks.

“Frenchie got a security alert at the Starlight Fund building early this morning. A lady had broken in, and was shouting at the security cams, demanding to speak to someone. We watched her on the cameras for a bit and it sounded like-“ MM clears his throat. “It sounded like she was looking for you.”

The fire starts in your throat, and you barely manage to whisper. “Me?”

“She called you by your name. Your full, legal name. Even got the last name right, not the bullshit one Vought’s been using for press about you and Homelander.”

The fire is against your teeth and under your nails as MM pushes on.

“Said she knew you. You you, not the Anomaly or your Vought persona. Wanted to talk to Starlight about it. Mentioned that Vought wouldn’t give her a straight answer, they kept insisting she had the wrong person, but she knew it had been you at the Firecracker rally.”

Hughie steps in, giving you a pitiful look. “She was really, um, aggressive.” He mumbles. “Made a lot of graphic threats.”

“Kind of sounded like you,” MM adds tightly, watching you carefully. “Looked like you too.”

Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “Do you- do you have a photo?”

MM nods, turning the screen of his phone to you. Your blood is white-hot as you stare at the photo on display. You knew that face. The last time you’d seen it there had been more baby-fat clinging to its cheeks, more light in its eyes, and the hair that had framed it had been longer, but you’d recognize it anywhere. It haunted you.

“Violet,” you breathe out. Your baby sister is frozen in the screen capture MM’s showing you, a crazed, furious expression on her features, teeth bared mid-shout.

MM coughs, and you tear your eyes from the screen. “So you know her?”

You nod heavily. “She’s my sister. Younger. I- I haven’t seen her since before.”

“She said you were dead.” Hughie said softly. “Said everyone thought you’d killed yourself, that they’d found a note but no body. That everyone thought she was going insane, but she knew it was you.”

“Homelander faked my death,” your voice is hoarse, the world is fuzzy and lined with cold something pushing into you. “I even have- Had a grave.”

MM catches your self-correction. “Had?”

“Butcher threw me into it the first night we all met.” You say flatly. “I don’t know if it ever got fixed.”

Both MM and Hughie look apologetic, but you don’t really care. Everything is painful, and you can’t breathe. “You-“ the words struggle out of you, driven by fear for Violet. “You said she talked to Vought?”

“Yeah, but they seemed to either screen her calls or insist she was just grief-stricken and looking for answers where there weren’t any.”

You nod to yourself at Hughie’s words, though they do little to alleviate the fire spreading into your bones and starting to curl in smoke around you. “What did- did you tell her anything?”

“Tell who anything.” Ben’s voice rumbles from behind you, and everything comes into a sharper focus as his arm is pushed into yours. “What the fuck’s going on.”

“This isn’t your problem, motherfucker,” MM snaps. “Piss right the hell off.”

Ben stiffens, and the stone-like protection runs through you.

“I- MM I need-“ You give a tight, strangled cough, not strong enough to fight the Feelings need to lean further into Ben. “Please let him stay.”

MM gives you a disbelieving look, like he might start to argue, but Hughie interjects.

“We haven’t talked to her yet. We wanted to see if you knew her.”

“Will someone tell me who the goddamn hell we’re talking about?” Ben snaps.

MM glowers at him. “Her sister,” he answers coldly. “Lady recognized her from the Firecracker incident. Want to make sure she’s safe.” The last words are sneered, and Ben’s arm wraps around you. 

“She is safe-“

MM ignores Ben, looking back at you. “Well?” He says your name in a firm, impatient tone. “What are we telling her?”

You take a deep, heavy breath. “Tell her I’m dead.”

“What?” Hughie stares at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely fucking serious.” You force your tone to be strong, devoid of emotion. “I’m dead. She should stop looking for me, because I killed myself three years ago.”

“But you didn’t-“

“Hughie.” You snap. “I’m dead. That’s it.”

Ben’s hold on you is almost painful. He’s silent, fingers digging into your side, and you feel his stare piercing through you, feel something strained running through him. 

Hughie says your name with forced gentleness, but MM cuts him off.

“You’re sure.”

You nod firmly. “Positive. I’m dead, MM. Please.” Your voice cracks at the end, and your heart starts to claw at your ribs.

“Fine, you’re dead. Let’s go, Hughie.”

“MM, you can’t be fucking serious.”

“Let’s go.” MM gives you one last, unreadable look before he walks into the hall.

Hughie stares at you, looking reluctant to leave, but MM shouts from the exit. 

“Hughie, if you don’t haul ass right fucking now, I’m leaving you here.”

Then they’re both gone, and Ben’s hold is the only thing keeping you upright. You stand in silence for a second, your heart roaring in pain, before you pry yourself from Ben and try to move back up the stairs.

You barely make it five steps before he’s grabbing your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“What the fuck was that.”

His voice is too cold, too angry. You’re so tired. “Please, Ben-“

“You’re not fucking dead, Sunshine. Your sister’s fucking looking for you, and you’re going to make those pussies tell her you’re dead?!”

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, and he scoffs.

“Is this about your stupid fucking ‘protecting them’ shit? That why you’re fucking lying to them?”

“I can’t-”

“They need to know you’re fucking alive,” he says your name with fury lining his voice. “If they care so goddamn much to go looking for you, they fucking deserve it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I fucking do, Sunshine. You did your goddamn hero bullshit, tried to keep your family safe,” Ben’s words are stabbing through your chest. “But it’s too fucking late, so just tell them-“

“No!” You scream, yanking your wrist from his grip. “Shut the fuck up, Ben! You have no fucking clue what I’m trying to do. I’m not on a goddamn fucking high horse about saving them, or any other hero shit! Just shut the fuck up!”

He’s yelling too now, and something is fracturing in your body. “They need to fucking know!” He takes a step forwards. “They fucking deserve-“

“Why do you care so fucking much about this? They’re not your fucking family! You don’t even fucking know them.”

“Because I would fucking want to know!” He roars. “I would go fucking insane and they probably are too!”

The thing isn’t fracturing in your body. It’s split apart, into a million bits and pieces, and your legs give out as all the air leaves your body. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and it’s too late to stop it. You hear Ben shout your name, feel his arms wrap around your body, and all your fury is just pain because you’re so angry at him, but as he carries you up the stairs, no part of you wants to fight him. 

Ben sits on the bed, making no attempt to let go. You hold onto him, clinging to his shirt, his smell, the feel of him, the sound of his voice as it hums a familiar tune, and breathing finds a way to no longer be an act of labor.

“I’m-“ you take a shaking breath. “I’m sorry-“

“Stop apologizing.” He snaps, before taking a heavy breath. “It’s me that should be-“ He coughs, and you pull your head from his chest. 

“I’m-“

“Stop, just-“ Ben frowns at nothing. “I need to-“ His jaw clenches, gaze falling to yours for only seconds before he’s glaring at the space above your head again. 

“Ben-“

“I’m sorry.” The words sound as if they’re falling out of him, and he's not looking at you. “I’m fucking sorry.”

You watch him glance back down at you, and you try and offer him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not-“

“Please,” you whisper. “I don’t, I can’t fight. Please.”

He just grunts, but his hold on you tightens, and you decide that it’s victory.

“What-“ you take another, slower breath. “What happened to the car?”

You watch his lips turn down, and he looks at you from under his eyelashes. “The car?”

“The one we stole.”

Ben gives a dry laugh. “You didn’t do much stealing Sunshine, you just stood there looking pretty.”

You roll your eyes, pushing down the warmth running through you from Ben calling you pretty. “Don’t dodge the question, Benjamin. What did you do with the car.”

He shrugged. “Ditched it a few blocks away. Carried you to the house.”

“How-” you frown at him. “How did you get in the house by yourself?”

“I pay attention, brat. I’m not as fucking stupid as all you pussies think I am. I just damn copied what everyone else does.”

“Oh.” You know that you should probably tell MM or Butcher or Mallory that Ben knows how to work the safe-house entrance—and likely the exit as well—but you don’t want to. Some very stupid part of you, that’s not just the Feeling, trusts him.

“You were really fucking out of it, Sunshine,” he teases. “Clinging to me like a damn baby.”

You feel your face heat. “It was cold.”

“You have fire powers.” He snorts. “Try to lie a little better.”

You pinch him, and he shoots you a fake look of hurt. “Cunt.”

“Brat.” His voice is lighter, and as the room falls back into silence, neither of you make an attempt to let go over each other. He just holds you and when you lean your head onto his chest, you’re soothed by its steady rise and fall, the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

I would fucking want to know. His words echo in your ears. I would go fucking insane.

Guilt is eating you, because ringing over Ben’s shouts are Butcher’s cold words from last night. Nine days.

I would go fucking insane.

Nine days.

This is the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. But your sister’s face is etched against your eyes when you close them, and think the sound of Ben’s heart might start to haunt your dreams. 

Nine days. Butcher’s voice doesn’t stop there this time. He doesn’t know what he was really forgiving you for, does he?

I would go fucking insane.

The right thing. The only thing.

You hold Ben a little tighter, and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just holds you tighter back. As you listen to his breathing, feeling the gentle, satisfied hum in your heart, you pray to someone, something, anything at all, that his heart will stay with you the whole way through. That Ben will forgive you when this is over. You don’t think it’s just the Feeling that won’t survive if he doesn’t.

End Note: Me, writing this chapter: god these two really need to fuck (I am completely in charge of when they do and don’t fuck)

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

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

[desolateice]

!!! I’m so glad you like them! I really enjoyed Just Another Heart in Need of Rescue and it was a lot of fun to make the awards!!!

Cobra Kai Fanfiction Awards 2023 - Character Winners, Part 1

Here is the list of winners and runners-up for the Character-based awards. We've tagged the authors where we know their Tumblr handle - if you know or are an untagged author just message us and we'll update the post.

Best Ali

Runners-up:

Maidengrove Hall by StrikeLikeACobraKai

If Ever You're In My Arms Again by StrikeLikeACobraKai

Winner:

Just Another Heart in Need of Rescue by astla_ever @astla-ever

Award made by @desolateice

Best Amanda

Runners-up:

Holy Miniskirt, Batman! by SpinningWater @youandthemountains

The List by alps-writes (findmeinthealps) @findmeinthealps

Winner:

In The Light of Tea and Sake by Belphegor @belphegor1982

Award by @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

Best Bobby

Runners-up:

My Favorite Trick by StrikeLikeACobraKai

Ten Minutes by Jules1980 @curiousdamage

Winners:

Triple Threat by LibertinePast @libertinepast

Award by @storyshark2005

camp triple pine by mind_writing @rosesradio

Award by @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy

Road to Nowhere by theremin

Award by @4ft10tvlandfangirl

Best Carmen

Runner-up:

Every Little Thing by TheLadyDisdain @missviolethunter

Winner:

The List by alps-writes (findmeinthealps)

Award by idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy

Best Chozen

Runner-up:

Difficult to Overcome by BetaCobra @afurioushawk

Winner:

Putting out the Fire by Amymone

Award by @legocobrakai

Best Karate Kid-era Daniel

Runners-up:

Just Another Heart in Need of Rescue by astla_ever

Konpeitō by desolateice

Strong Roots by LulaMadison @lulamadison

Winners:

Stunting by GoldStarGrl @hgedits

Award by desolateice

Danielle by TheEmpressAR @theempressar

Award by 4ft10tvlandfangirl

Root Beer Floats and Green Tea by desolateice

Award by storyshark2005

Best Cobra Kai-era Daniel

Runner-up:

i won't be silent and i won't let go (i'll hold on 'tll the afterglow) by mostpeculiarmademoiselle @secondclassfangirl

Winner:

Need Never Look Back Again by Amymone

Award by @pinktintedmonocle

Best Demetri

Runner-up:

Hair Raiser by Pink_Tinted_Monocle

Winner:

All the Bread We Break by bat_country @baldwinboy5ive

Award by dream-beyond-the-fantasy

Best Dutch

Runner-up:

dust yourself off and try again by WickedJade @wicked-jade

Winner:

Just Another Heart in Need of Rescue by astla_ever

Award by desolateice

Best Hawk

Runner-up:

All the Bread We Break by bat_country

Winner:

Hair Raiser by Pink_Tinted_Monocle

Award by missviolethunter

Best Jimmy

Runner-up:

Root Beer Floats and Green Tea by desolateice

Winner:

Different But Different by Pink_Tinted_Monocle

Award by idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy

Best Karate Kid-era Johnny

Runner-up:

Maidengrove Hall by StrikeLikeACobraKai

Winner:

Just Another Heart in Need of Rescue by astla_ever

Award by desolateice

Best Cobra Kai-era Johnny

Runners-up:

Just like Grape by LulaMadison

Just Say Sorry by chwheeler @chwheeler

Need Never Look Back Again by Amymone

What To Get The Karate DILF Who Has Everything by WickedJade

Winner:

Johnny Lawrence, Ace Degenerate by mostpeculiarmademoiselle

Award by pinktintedmonocle