#and horrible enough that even i who haven’t even watch it

[ankababy]

A Home (part 12)

Part 1 Part 11 Part 13

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

One lightbulb, one chair, one girl, one—bullet?

Niragi was still not a morning person.

Actually, scratch that—Niragi wasn’t a person who functioned at any time of day unless he had a cigarette in one hand and his gun in the other.

So when he dragged himself out of bed, still half-asleep, still rubbing his eyes, looking horrible because who the fuck was he trying to impress—

The last thing he expected was you.

Balanced on top of some fucking chair-pile contraption from hell.

He stopped dead in his tracks, one foot in the living room, one foot still in the hall, blinking hard because—

What. The fuck. Was he looking at?

You were standing—no, teetering—atop a fucking tower of stacked furniture, one foot on a chair, the other on some books stacked haphazardly on a stool.

And you were just up there.

Poking at the lamp.

Muttering under your breath.

“…The fuck are you doing?”

You turned your head over your shoulder, looking at him like he was the crazy one. “The lamp.” you said simply. “It’s not yellow enough.”

Niragi just stared.

You turned back to the lamp, squinting. “It’s supposed to be warm. Soft. Cozy. But it’s just wrong, Niragi. It’s not right.” You huffed in frustration, tapping at the glass like that would somehow make it glow the exact shade you wanted. “The aesthetic is completely ruined.”

Niragi took a slow step closer, staring at the fucking death trap of furniture you had somehow not fallen from yet.

“What the fuck are you standing on?”

“A chair.”

He gave you a blank look. “No, that—” he gestured at the entire unstable mess under you “—isn’t just a chair. That’s some final-destination-shit waiting to happen.”

“It’s fine.” you said dismissively, tapping the glass again, completely unbothered. “I made sure it was balanced.”

“Balanced?” Niragi repeated. “You’ve got a fucking stool on top of a table on top of a chair. What part of that sounds balanced to you?”

You didn’t even look at him. “The part where I haven’t fallen yet.”

Niragi just dragged a hand down his face.

This was a fucking joke.

You were rambling to yourself about the fucking hue of a fucking lightbulb, picking apart details that no one—except you—would ever give a shit about, your whole body swaying slightly as you balanced on that death-trap, completely unphased.

And Niragi? He was just standing there, watching, like some fucking idiot.

Because he knew you were going to fall.

Had to fall.

There was no fucking way someone could balance like that, no way you could just stand up there for this long without—

You reached up, adjusting the light slightly.

The stack wobbled.

Niragi felt his stomach fucking drop.

“Hey—”

You shifted. Like you expected it. Like you knew exactly how to keep yourself steady.

And you just—

Did.

Like it was fucking nothing. Like you weren’t about to break your skull open on the floor. Like you weren’t even remotely aware of how fucking insane this whole situation was.

Niragi just stood there.

Jaw clenched. Hands tense.

Heart beating a little too fast.

He hated this. Hated how easily you moved, how confident you were, how your focus was completely on that stupid fucking lamp instead of the fact that you were standing on a structure that should not be able to hold you. Hated that, for some fucking reason—

He didn’t want you to fall.

Not because he gave a shit about you breaking something. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle it.

But because the idea of seeing you hurt made something in his chest go tight.

That pissed him off.

“Get the fuck down.” he finally snapped, stepping closer, ready to just fucking drag you off if he had to.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I just need to fix this—”

“I swear to god—”

“The glow just isn’t soft enough—”

“I will shoot the fucking lightbulb.”

You gasped like he had just threatened your firstborn child. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “You’re just mad because you don’t understand aesthetics.”

“Aesthetics?” Niragi scoffed. “You’re out here risking your life over some shitty warm lighting.”

“It’s not warm enough.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.”

You gave him a dramatic look, then sighed, stepping down onto the back of a chair—

And jumped.

Niragi swore his heart stopped for a second.

He thought you were actually going to fucking fall.

But you didn’t.

You landed perfectly, somehow already moving, already stretching your arms over your head like this whole thing had just been a normal part of your morning routine.

Niragi was still standing there.

Trying to remember how the fuck to breathe.

Trying to ignore the way his palms had gone sweaty.

Trying to ignore the fact that his first instinct had been to catch you.

You turned to him, still looking mildly pissed off about the lightbulb. “We’re changing it.” you declared.

Niragi clicked his tongue. “You’re fucking weird.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re an asshole.”

He didn’t mind this. Didn’t mind your weird perfectionism. Didn’t mind your ridiculous need to make everything match your vision. Didn’t mind that you were standing on top of death-trap furniture at seven in the fucking morning just to complain about the shade of yellow in a fucking lamp.

Didn’t mind that, somehow, you made the apartment feel less like a place to rot and more like something… real.

He wouldn’t admit it.

Wouldn’t even think about it too hard.

But something about you? Something about this whole fucking moment?

Made him like mornings just a little more.

“You know lightbulbs?” you asked suddenly, your tone half-skeptical, half-curious.

Niragi’s eyebrows shot up. ���What kind of dumbass question is that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “A normal one. Do you know lightbulbs?”

He just stared at you, completely silent.

You blinked.

He blinked back.

Nothing.

No response.

No answer.

Just his stupid, smug face watching you.

You sighed, already exasperated. “Niragi.”

Still nothing.

Your foot tapped against the floor. “Niragi.”

He finally tilted his head, lips twitching like he was barely holding back laughter. “Huh?”

You groaned. “Oh my god—”

“What do you mean, do I know lightbulbs?” he cut you off, voice all slow and lazy. “Like, personally? Am I best fucking friends with them?”

Your fingers twitched. “Do you know how they work?”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes flickering with something that really didn’t need to be there this early in the morning. “I know a few things that turn on.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You spun on your heel, already walking away, already regretting everything. But you didn’t get far. Because in a second, he was behind you, looping an arm lazily around your shoulders, tugging you back just enough to throw you off balance, his breath warm against your ear. “Relax.”

You shoved at him, rolling your eyes, but he didn’t let go. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you—” his grip tightened for half a second before he finally let go, voice laced with laughter “—are so fucking easy.”

You scowled. “Oh, fuck off.”

He grinned. “Make me.”

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms. “So? Do you know how lightbulbs work or not?”

His smirk lingered, but there was something knowing behind his gaze now, something too aware. He let the silence stretch just long enough to irritate you again, just long enough for you to open your mouth, ready to yell, before he finally—finally—answered.

“Yeah.” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “I do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Really?”

He scoffed. “What, you think I’m fucking stupid?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I just think you’re an asshole.”

Niragi let out a low hum, but didn’t answer much more.

You let out a long sigh, running a hand through your hair, already feeling tired just dealing with him. But at least you had your answer. And if he knew what he was doing… well. That meant you didn’t have to.

“Alright, genius.” you said, looking him dead in the eye. “Go get me new ones.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” You gestured vaguely toward the lamp. “If you know how they work, you know what I need. So go get them.”

He blinked. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” You placed a hand on your hip. “And you do.”

Niragi stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “You were the one complaining about the color—”

“And you were the one being a smartass about it!” you cut him off. “So if you’re so damn smart, go get me new ones.”

He licked his teeth, tilting his head slightly, watching you. “You think I’m just gonna listen to you?”

You just lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with absolute certainty. “Yeah.”

Niragi’s grin twitched.

Because the worst part? You were fucking right. And he didn’t even know why. Didn’t know why he was going to do it. Didn’t know why he was already thinking about where the fuck he could find the right ones. Didn’t know why he cared.

But he did.

And that pissed him off.

So naturally, he turned to make you feel just as pissed off as he did.

“I better get something for this.” he muttered, already walking away.

“You get to keep living here.” you called after him. “For free.”

He turned back just enough to flash you a grin. “I meant something better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Niragi.”

“What type is it?” he asked, turning his head just enough to look at you again.

You stared. “What?”

He gave you a long, expectant look. “The lightbulb, princess. What kind is it?”

You blinked.

Opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

Because—what? What kind? Did lightbulbs have kinds? Wasn’t it just… a fucking lightbulb?

You felt your brain stutter over itself as you looked at him, eyes darting between his face and the lamp in front of you, suddenly very aware that you had no idea what the fuck you were talking about.

“…The… normal kind?” you tried, voice slow, uncertain.

Niragi just stared.

He sighed.

“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t even know what you need?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do—”

“No, you don’t.”

Your fingers twitched. “I know the vibe I want.”

Niragi let out a laugh. “The vibe?”

“Yes, the vibe, Niragi.” You gestured aggressively toward the lamp. “The warmth, the color, the—”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You scowled. “You asked, asshole!”

Niragi ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before rolling his shoulders back. “Alright, alright, shut up.”

You glared. “You shut up.”

“You—”

“You—”

“You—”

“Niragi!”

“Y/N!”

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

He huffed, mirroring you just to be an asshole.

A long, tense silence.

“…Just fucking take it out and bring it to me.” he muttered, jerking his chin toward the lamp.

Your lips parted slightly.

You looked at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Then back at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed.

“Take. It. Out.” he repeated, voice sharp, slow, like he was talking to a child.

You blinked again.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Just stared harder.

“You do know how to do that, right?”

More silence.

You gave him nothing.

Not even a blink.

“…Are you fucking serious?”

You continued to stare.

“Oh my fucking god.” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before stepping forward. “Move.”

You stepped back instantly, watching with way too much amusement as he grabbed a chair, adjusting it under the lamp.

“See?” he muttered, stepping up. “It’s not that fucking hard.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re taller.”

Niragi scoffed, twisting the bulb out easily, not even looking at you. He hopped off the chair, taking a look at the bulb before tossing it into your hands without warning. You barely caught it, fumbling slightly as he smirked down at you, clearly entertained.

“There.” he muttered, shaking his head. “Now I can go find your dumbass ’vibe’.”

You clutched the bulb tighter, glaring up at him. “You’re the dumbass.”

He just grinned. But even with all his smugness, all his teasing, something about him felt different.

Because even though he called you impossible, even though he acted like this was the most annoying thing in the world, he was still doing it. Still helping. Still listening.

“What do you actually want?” he asked, voice slower now. Less teasing.

You blinked up at him.

He met your gaze, unbothered. “You know. The wattage, the lumens, the temperature—”

“…The what?” you said dumbly.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “The brightness. The warmth. The kind of light.”

Your lips parted slightly.

That was… a thing?

He knew all that?

You stared harder.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected this to be something he was good at. It was lightbulbs, for fuck’s sake. And yet, here he was, asking technical shit that you did not know the answer to. Which, admittedly, made you feel kind of stupid.

Your grip tightened around the bulb as you inhaled, turning your gaze back to the lamp. “…I just want it to look good.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer.”

“It’s a shit answer.”

You huffed, shifting your weight. “I just want it to be… softer. Warmer. Not so—so bright—”

“Warmer temp, lower lumens.” Niragi nodded once. “Got it.”

You just blinked again, slightly thrown off by how easy that was for him.

“…Yeah.” You nodded slowly. “That.”

He smirked. “I know.”

You wanted to kick him.

But you didn’t. You just crossed your arms tighter, shifting under his gaze as he grabbed his gun before heading toward the door. “I’ll be back.” he muttered, already turning away.

You rolled your eyes. “Bring me something nice.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

You grinned. “A surprise.”

Niragi paused for a split second. Then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath before stepping out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sighed, glancing down at the bulb in your hands before looking back up at the empty socket, staring.

It looked weird like that. Bare. Unfinished.

You didn’t even notice Chishiya come in.

“Something wrong?”

You turned your head just in time to see him step into the kitchen, looking just as calm and put-together as ever, hands in his hoodie pockets.

Your entire posture eased at the sight of him.

He always had that effect on you.

“Morning.” you greeted softly, immediately perking up.

He just gave you a slow nod, eyes drifting toward the chair under the lamp. “Do I want to know?”

You grinned slightly. “It’s fine. I was just fixing it.”

He arched an eyebrow.

You sighed. “I was, but I made Niragi do it.”

Chishiya hummed knowingly, stepping past you toward the counter.

You swayed slightly as you watched him. “I was about to make you breakfast.”

His eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before looking forward again. “Mm.”

You took that as a yes. Smiling softly, you moved toward the counter, setting the bulb down before grabbing ingredients. “You know, I think Niragi actually knows his shit.” you muttered, rambling as you reached for a pan. “He asked me what kind I wanted, and I didn’t even know lightbulbs had kinds. But he did. He’s out getting one now. He’s still an ass, though. Kept messing with me before he left.”

Chishiya barely reacted. “Sounds right.”

You smiled. “He also took my request for a surprise very seriously.”

He gave you a sideways glance. “You think you’re getting something good?”

You just shrugged. “I think he likes me.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change. He just let that thought sit in the air as you started cooking, humming softly to yourself.

He never understood how you did that—how you could switch moods so easily. How you could go from chaos to sweetness without a single moment of hesitation. You were an angel in moments like these, making breakfast for someone who had done nothing but manipulate you, talking like this wasn’t a fucked up situation.

And yet, you were still you.

And right now, you were especially soft with him. You turned your head slightly, glancing at him as you flipped the food in the pan. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He met your gaze, unbothered. “No.”

Your lips curled up slightly. “Promise?”

His expression didn’t change. “I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

You hummed, nodding slowly as you turned back to the stove. “Good.” you muttered, satisfied.

Chishiya just watched you, quiet, hands still tucked into his hoodie pockets. You were different from earlier. You talked more when you were like this, rambling, making conversation just to fill the air.

Not that he minded.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you much.” you continued, plating the food. “You were gone a lot yesterday.”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “Not much to see.”

You pouted slightly as you set the plate in front of him. “I like seeing you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, his face unreadable as always, but something in his gaze shifted. Something quiet.

You didn’t even seem to notice.

Instead, you just smiled, reaching up to pet his head, fingers running through his soft hair. “You’re too cold sometimes, y’know that?”

Chishiya didn’t react. Didn’t pull away.

He never did.

You let your fingers linger for just a second longer before pulling back, grabbing yourself a glass of water as he sat down. “Did you eat at all yesterday?”

He glanced at his plate, then back at you. “Does it matter?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It does matter.”

He quirked a brow. “To who?”

“To me.”

Chishiya leaned back slightly. “And why’s that?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Because you’re my friend?”

His lips twitched slightly. “You sure?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and eat.”

He gave you an unimpressed look before grabbing his fork.

You sat next to him, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as he took his first bite, chewing slowly. He was never one to rush, always taking his time, analyzing things even when he didn’t need to.

You liked watching him.

Something about the way he carried himself, the way he existed so easily in his own head—it fascinated you.

“What’s wrong with you?” you mused suddenly, tilting your head.

He arched a brow. “Be more specific.”

You grinned slightly. “You don’t get attached to people, do you?”

Chishiya’s chewing slowed.

Your gaze stayed steady, curious, soft.

He swallowed, setting his fork down. “No.”

Your lips pursed slightly. “You say that like it’s normal.”

His expression didn’t change. “It is for me.”

You exhaled through your nose, shifting slightly in your seat. “That’s kinda sad.”

Chishiya’s brows lifted a fraction. “Is it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. No one’s ever made you feel something? Like—actually cared about you?”

He just stared at you.

His silence was louder than words.

Your chest tightened slightly, your fingers gripping your glass a little tighter.

“…That’s not fair.” you muttered.

Chishiya tilted his head. “To who?”

“To you.” you said simply, eyes soft, searching his. “That’s just not fair.”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink. He only exhaled softly, a slow, almost unnoticeable movement, before looking back at his plate.

“…You don’t have to care for me.” he said finally. But it was quiet. Softer than before.

You smiled.

“You say that.” you murmured, reaching out again, brushing your fingers through his hair once more. “But you’re eating my food, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t tell you to stop.

That was an answer all on its own.

Your fingers traced gently through Chishiya’s hair, soft and absentminded, but your words were anything but.

“I’m sorry.” you said, voice light, but full of something deeper. “I’m sorry you had to live like that.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t shift. Not on the surface, at least. But there was something unreadable in his eyes, something quiet.

You pulled your hand back, leaning against the counter. “And before you start,” you continued, anticipating whatever cold dismissal he was about to give. “I don’t mean it in a pity way. So don’t think of it like that.”

He hummed, taking another bite of food, as if that response was enough.

You sighed, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You’re… different. But in a good way.” you said carefully. “You think differently. You see things differently. You’re analytical, you’re smart—”

He huffed a small breath. “Flattery?”

You shook your head. “No. Just the truth.”

He glanced at you, skeptical.

But you weren’t lying.

You never lied to him.

You leaned in slightly, your voice softer. “I don’t think you’re incapable of caring, Chishiya. I think… no one’s ever given you a reason to.”

He stilled for a moment.

Your words settled between you, sinking into him like a weight.

You knew how to talk to people. You always had. You did psychology for fuck’s sake—you knew how the brain worked, how defense mechanisms worked, how he worked. And yet, even knowing all that, even recognizing every wall he put up, every quiet manipulation, every careful detachment—you still cared.

And he knew that.

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw through people too easily for his own good, picked apart their intentions before they even realized them themselves. But with you, there was no motive. No selfish gain. You just meant it.

Chishiya had always known he was different. Even as a child, he had been too quiet, too perceptive, too detached from things that were supposed to matter. While other kids cried when they scraped their knees, he had just stared, fascinated by the blood pooling beneath their skin. While other kids looked for comfort from their parents, he had learned, very quickly, that his parents had nothing to give.

Emotions were irrelevant. Affection was useless. Weak.

So he learned to exist without it.

And for years, that had worked.

He went through school the same way he went through life—observing, learning, excelling, all while keeping himself at a safe distance. He understood people better than they understood themselves, knew what made them tick, knew how to use that.

But he never let them close.

Because why would he?

Affection was a concept he had never been taught, never been given, never needed. He functioned just fine without it.

Until you.

You, who looked at him like he was worth knowing, not just useful. You, who didn’t pull away when he said something cruel, who didn’t shy away from his presence. You, who ran your fingers through his hair and made him breakfast and looked him straight in the eyes and said sweet words.

Chishiya swallowed slowly, setting his fork down.

He didn’t meet your gaze this time.

You watched him carefully, your expression soft. “You’re not some unfeeling machine, y’know.”

He scoffed lightly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Yeah. You like to think that.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because you were right.

Chishiya had spent his whole life believing he was incapable of love, incapable of forming any real attachment, incapable of feeling anything the way other people did. And maybe, for a while, that had been true.

But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Your voice was steady, sweet. “You are amazing, you know that?”

Chishiya barely looked at you, his eyes cast downward as he spun his fork between his fingers. If the words had come from anyone else, he would have dismissed them entirely. But they were coming from you. And that? That was a different kind of problem.

You sighed, shaking your head. “And I don’t just mean smart. I mean you. You’re… unique.”

He gave a small scoff, finally glancing at you. “That’s just another way of saying ‘weird.’”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But I like weird.”

His fingers stilled against the metal fork.

You pushed yourself off the counter, brushing your hands together. “But hey, I’m not gonna force myself on you. Just eat up, alright?”

And with that, you turned, heading toward your room without waiting for a response.

And just like that—he was alone again.

As a child, he was the type of kid who preferred books over people. He never understood why classmates flocked together in tight, desperate groups, why they were so emotionally dependent on each other, why they needed so much. It seemed weak to him. Inefficient.

So he kept to himself.

School was easy. People were easy. Everything was just one big equation, and he had already solved it. A simple balance of power and perception—figure out what people wanted, what they feared, what they needed, and use it. Manipulation wasn’t even a malicious act to him. It was just logic. Strategy. A means to an end.

And it worked.

Always.

He climbed through life easily, acing exams, cutting down competition, proving time and time again that he was better. He didn’t need approval, he didn’t need connection—he needed control.

Because control was safe.

But you—you were something else entirely.

You didn’t want anything from him. You didn’t try to break through his walls, didn’t push or pry or demand the way others did. You just were. You existed around him, with him, and for some fucking reason, he let you.

Chishiya tapped his fingers against the table, staring at the empty spot where you had been just moments before.

His chest felt… weird. Not tight, not painful, just—unfamiliar.

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the chair.

Alone. Again.

That was how he preferred things.

…Right?

~

You stood below Niragi, arms crossed as you looked up at him perched on the chair, twisting the lightbulb into place.

“Don’t fall.”

He scoffed, sparing you a quick glance. “Tch. I’m not you.”

“I didn’t fall either!”

“You should’ve. That whole tower of death you built was ridiculous.”

“It was efficient.”

“It was fucking stupid.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he gave the bulb one last turn before pulling his hand away. The soft glow of light bathed the room in a warmer hue, and you tilted your head slightly, inspecting it.

“…It’s kinda nice.” you admitted.

Niragi smirked, stepping down from the chair. “Told you.”

You huffed, glancing toward the counter. “Well, thank you for doing it.”

He chuckled, grabbing the chair and dragging it back to its spot. “Yeah, yeah. You should be grateful you’ve got me around.”

“Oh, so grateful.” you teased, leaning against the counter as he shot you a look.

For a moment, it was quiet between you two, but a good quiet. Comfortable. The glow from the lightbulb cast shadows along the walls, making the whole room feel warmer, softer.

Then Niragi snapped his fingers suddenly, as if remembering something.

“Oh, right.” he said, reaching into his pocket.

You raised a brow. “Huh?”

“The thing.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

“The thing you asked for.”

Your brain scrambled for a moment, trying to recall what the hell he was talking about. You had told him to bring you a surprise, but that was just to mess with him. You never expected him to actually—

He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it your way. You barely caught it, fumbling with it before looking down at the object in your hands.

It was… a tiny, plastic keychain. Shaped like a cat.

You stared.

Niragi snorted. “The fuck is that face?”

You looked up at him, then back down at the keychain. It was cheap, scratched up, completely useless—and you loved it.

A slow smile spread across your face. “You actually brought me something?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make it weird.”

You held it up, inspecting it in the light. It was dumb. Utterly useless.

“I love it.”

Niragi’s lips twitched slightly. “You would.”

But beneath his teasing tone, there was something else. Something unfamiliar. He had grabbed the stupid thing on a whim, thinking it was funny, thinking you’d brush it off, thinking he’d have something to tease you about later—but you liked it. Really liked it.

And somehow, that made his chest feel weird. Not in a bad way. Just… weird.

You turned the tiny cat keychain over in your hands, running your fingers along the worn plastic, completely enamored with the stupid little thing.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of you as you held it up, inspecting it under the new warm light. The glow made the tiny scratches on it even more visible, but somehow, that just made you love it even more. It had history.

“Oh my god.” you gasped, grinning as you turned to Niragi. “Look at this little guy. Look at him.”

Niragi watched you, arms crossed, eyebrow quirked. “I see it.”

You clutched it to your chest dramatically. “No, but do you see it?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus. It’s just a fucking keychain.”

“It’s not just a keychain.” you corrected, beaming as you held it up again. “It’s my keychain.”

Niragi snorted, shaking his head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

You took a step closer, grinning up at him. “But, seriously, thank you.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “The light. The cat. Your general existence.”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, rocking on your heels. “What? You want me to be mean to you instead?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

You huffed, poking his arm playfully. “Fine. You’re insufferable.”

“And?”

You squinted at him. “Fucked in the head.”

“Keep going.”

“A literal nightmare of a human being.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

You shook your head, still smiling as you rolled the keychain between your fingers. The apartment felt good in that moment—warm, safe, a little less suffocating than usual.

And Niragi… he wasn’t soft, not really. But every once in a while, when he thought you weren’t paying attention, he did things like this.

He didn’t have to fix the light. Didn’t have to bring you anything. And yet, here you were, under a warm glow, holding a tiny plastic cat in your hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

You glanced up at him again, watching as he pretended he wasn’t watching you.

“…I really do love it.” you said softly.

Niragi clicked his tongue, looking away. “Yeah, yeah.”

You could see it—the slightest tension in his jaw, the way he shifted his weight, the way his lips twitched just barely at the edges.

He liked that you liked it. And that? That made your chest feel a little weird, too.

Niragi side-eyed you, watching the way your lips curled up slightly, how you kept flipping it over like you expected to find something new. It was so stupidly cute, he almost wanted to snatch it back just to see you pout.

“Anyways, I have to go out tonight.” you said casually.

Niragi’s brow twitched. “What?”

“For restocking.” you clarified, slipping the keychain into your pocket. “We’re running low on some stuff, so I have to—”

“Are you kidding me?” Niragi groaned, tilting his head back in frustration. “Now you say this?”

You blinked at him. “…Yeah?”

His eye twitched. “You could’ve told me earlier, and I just would’ve gone with you then. Instead, I went out in the middle of the fucking day—for lightbulbs.”

You grinned. “And you did a great job.”

“Fuck off.”

You laughed as he ran a hand down his face.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” you teased. “Look at it this way—at least you got to enjoy a nice, peaceful trip without my constant chattering.”

Niragi shot you a look. “Yeah, I hated it.”

You smirked. “Aww, you missed me?”

He clicked his tongue, glancing away. “Shut up.”

You giggled, opening one of the cabinets to take inventory of what you needed. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me tonight.”

He scoffed. “Like that was even a question.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “So that’s a yes?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Obviously. You think I’m just gonna let you go out there alone?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I have gone alone before, you know.”

He snorted. “Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?”

You hesitated. Okay, so maybe there had been a few close calls. Not anything you couldn’t handle, but still.

Niragi smirked, catching your hesitation. “Exactly.” he drawled. “You’re a fucking magnet for trouble.”

You pouted. “Am not.”

“Are too.” he shot back. “You could walk into an empty fucking alley, and I guarantee you’d still manage to find some kind of bullshit waiting for you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like I try to get into trouble.”

Niragi leaned against the counter, grinning lazily. “Oh, you definitely do.”

“Whatever.” you muttered. “Just be ready to go after dark.”

He scoffed. “Like I wouldn’t be.”

You smiled as you turned back to the cabinets. Even with all his bitching, you knew he didn’t really mind. If anything, he liked having an excuse to go with you.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

~

The streets were eerily empty. Broken glass, torn banners, and abandoned cars lined the roads, all remnants of a world that didn’t exist anymore. The city felt like a ghost—hollow, still, waiting for something that was never going to come.

“You literally could’ve warned me.” you huffed, shaking your head as you nudged Niragi’s arm.

He grinned, swinging the flashlight lazily at the ground in front of him. “Oh, where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun,” you deadpanned. “would’ve been me not stepping into a fucking pothole.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh. “You should’ve been watching where you were going.”

“You were leading!”

“And?”

You groaned dramatically. “God, you are insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he muttered, flashing the light in your face briefly before you smacked his arm.

“Hey!”

He snickered. “What? Just making sure you’re still awake.”

“You are so annoying.” you grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

Chishiya, who had been walking slightly behind you both, was silent as usual, watching. Listening. Niragi was good at pulling your attention away from everything else, keeping you focused only on him. It was his favorite thing to do.

But you—you were always aware of him, of everything. Even while bickering with Niragi, you still turned back, slowing your steps just slightly to look at him.

“Hey, Chishiya, look at this.” you said suddenly, crouching down beside an overgrown crack in the pavement.

He raised an eyebrow as you reached out, carefully plucking a tiny flower growing stubbornly between the slabs of broken concrete.

“It’s so cute.” you said softly, twirling the delicate stem between your fingers.

Chishiya didn’t say anything, just studied you, the way your lips curled up slightly, the way your fingers were careful, gentle.

You held it out to him, grinning. “Here, for you.”

Chishiya blinked, then exhaled. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You pouted dramatically, standing up. “Appreciate it, obviously.”

Niragi clicked his tongue. “Tch. Are you seriously giving him some shitty little weed?”

You turned back to him, still smiling. “It’s not a weed. It’s a flower.”

“It’s ugly.”

“You’re ugly.” you shot back.

Niragi smirked. “You wish.”

You ignored him, turning back to Chishiya, who just sighed and took the flower from your hand, twirling it between his fingers for a second before tucking it into his pocket.

Satisfied, you beamed before returning to Niragi’s side.

“Finally.” he grumbled. “I thought I lost you to the nerd back there.”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He swung the flashlight toward your legs, tapping your thigh with it. “That’s mine, by the way.”

“What?”

He poked you again. “The flashlight. It’s mine.”

“I found it first.”

“Yeah? And who’s holding it?” He waved it in your face.

You huffed. “You stole it.”

“Finders keepers, baby.”

“That is not how that works!”

“It is now.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “You are such a child.”

“You’re following me around like a lost puppy.” he teased, flashing the light at the ground ahead of you.

You kicked at the back of his leg lightly. “Shut up.”

Chishiya watched you both, hands in his pockets as he walked a few steps behind, letting Niragi soak in all of your attention—for now. But he noticed things. The way Niragi was always just slightly closer than necessary, how his hand hovered near yours even though he never reached for it, how he used the flashlight to poke you just to get any kind of reaction.

He wanted you all to himself.

Chishiya let a small smirk pull at his lips. How predictable.

You, completely oblivious to the silent battle happening behind your back, turned your attention forward, eyes scanning the abandoned stores up ahead.

Niragi sticked out his foot in the middle of one of your steps.

You didn’t even have time to react before your balance tilted forward, and with a sharp gasp, you stumbled. But before you could fall, you caught yourself, spinning around to face him with wide, betrayed eyes.

“You bitch!” you gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Niragi burst into laughter, throwing his head back as he clutched his stomach. “Oh my god—your face—!”

“You tripped me!”

“Yeah? And?”

Before he could react, you swung your leg out, aiming to knock his foot from under him the same way he did to you. But Niragi was quick—annoyingly quick. He sidestepped easily, grinning down at you like he knew you were too slow for him.

You huffed, planting your hands on your hips. “Coward.”

“Loser.”

Wit a growl of frustration, you tried again, stepping closer to kick at his ankle—but Niragi was already ready for it. He reached out this time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward just enough to throw you off balance instead. Your feet scrambled against the cracked pavement before you caught yourself again, but it was too late. Niragi was already dying of laughter.

You launched yourself at him, tackling him with all the force you could manage, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling as hard as you could.

He stumbled, caught off guard, his laughter cutting short as he struggled to keep his balance. “Hey—!”

But you didn’t let up, using all of your weight to keep pulling him off center—until finally, his foot hit an uneven part of the sidewalk, and he went down.

Hard.

The second his back hit the ground, you jumped back, throwing your arms in the air like you had just won a wrestling match. “HAH!”

Niragi groaned from the ground, blinking up at the dark sky. “What the fuck?”

“You deserved that!” you said proudly, grinning down at him. “That’s what you get!”

But before you could bask in your victory for too long, Niragi reached out and hooked his arm around your ankle, yanking hard.

And just like that, you were falling too.

You landed with a loud oof, your back hitting the pavement right next to him.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

And then you lost it. Laughter bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in bright, gasping giggles that you couldn’t stop. You turned your head to look at him, and Niragi was laughing too, chest shaking as he sucked in sharp breaths between each laugh.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid.

But god, it felt good.

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling, turning onto your side to look at him fully. Niragi did the same, facing you with a shit-eating grin that matched yours.

“You suck.” you wheezed.

“You suck.” he shot back, nudging you with his knee.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Chishiya, watching all of this from a few steps behind, felt something sharp twist inside his chest.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

Not just at the fact that Niragi was the one next to you, making you laugh so hard you were crying—but at the fact that you were happy.

If you and Niragi were capable of feeling happiness in this miserable fucking world, then why couldn’t he?

His eyes lingered on you, watching the way you reached out to push Niragi’s shoulder, the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled so hard it nearly hurt.

And he wondered—if he was the one by your side, making you laugh, making you smile like that…

Would he be happy too?

Would he even know what happiness felt like?

He shoved the thought away stepping closer. “Are you two done rolling around in the dirt, or should I come back later?”

You turned your head, still giggling as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You’re just mad you weren’t invited.”

Chishiya let out a small huff, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hardly.”

Niragi sat up, stretching his arms behind his head as he grinned. “Yeah? ‘Cause I think you are.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. He just looked at you, still lying on the pavement with flushed cheeks and a bright, glowing expression.

And yeah, maybe he was jealous.

He turned on his heel and started walking, making it clear he wasn’t waiting for either of you.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking prick.” he muttered, standing up and dusting off his pants before reaching a hand down to you.

Still giggling, you took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you up in one smooth motion. “Thanks.”

He just clicked his tongue, like he didn’t care, but his grip lingered a little longer than necessary before he let go.

The second you were on your feet, you took off—practically sprinting after Chishiya.

“Hey, wait up!” you called, running to catch up to his side. “Why are you walking so fast?”

Chishiya kept his eyes forward, jaw tight. “Didn’t realize we were stopping for playtime.”

You huffed, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Oh, please. You know you liked watching us fight to the death.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t see how attempting to kill each other on the pavement is a good use of time.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” you teased, nudging him again.

He sighed through his nose. He couldn’t be mad at you like this, could he?

You, with your bright eyes and your breathless smile, so full of energy even in this dead city. You, who had just spent minutes rolling around on the pavement, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, and still had the nerve to come bouncing up to him as if he hadn’t spent the entire time stewing in jealousy.

No.

He could never be angry at you.

“Come on.” you whined, looping your arm through his without a second thought. “Don’t be grumpy. You get to walk with me, isn’t that a privilege?”

Chishiya arched a brow. “A privilege?”

“Yes.” you said seriously. “An honor, actually.”

He scoffed, but he didn’t pull away.

Behind you, Niragi made a disgusted noise. “Gross.” he muttered, dragging his feet as he followed. “You’re gross. Both of you.”

You just giggled, squeezing Chishiya’s arm before letting go.

And as much as he didn’t want to admit it—he kind of missed the warmth of you next to him the second you did.

Niragi had his flashlight in hand, lazily swinging it back and forth, not even bothering to aim it at the road ahead.

Before he could react, you lunged forward and flicked the flashlight beam directly into his face.

Niragi hissed, throwing an arm up to shield himself. “What the fuck?”

You snorted, holding back laughter as you kept the light steady on him. He flicked his own flashlight at you, shining it right into your eyes in retaliation.

“AHH!” you shrieked, flailing back dramatically. “Niragi! That’s cheating!”

“Cheating? You started it, dumbass.”

“You’re supposed to accept my attack like a noble warrior—”

“You blinded me, not stabbed me with a sword, you fucking idiot.” he snorted, but there was no real malice in his tone.

You giggled and swung the flashlight up again, flashing it right in his face. “Bam!”

“Fucking—” Niragi barely flinched this time before shining his right back at you.

For a few seconds, it was nothing but the two of you flicking lights at each other’s faces, stepping back and forth, cackling like children. Niragi was determined to win somehow, even though there were no real rules, and you were just thrilled at the fact that he was playing along.

Chishiya was still walking, hands in his pockets, not looking at you two.

He told himself it was annoying. Told himself it was a waste of time. You were in the middle of a dead city, risking your lives just by stepping outside, and instead of being serious, you were fucking around.

But his fingers twitched in his pockets.

Because he knew that wasn’t really why his chest felt tight.

It was you.

The way you laughed, bright and breathless, unbothered by everything. The way Niragi grinned at you, softer than usual. The way you looked at each other like you were actually happy, like you were living in a world that wasn’t already doomed.

And Chishiya hated that it wasn’t him making you smile like that.

He had never cared before.

He didn’t like it.

And yet, he found himself slowing down, just slightly, turning around to watch you two play with those damn flashlights, trying to tell himself that none of this mattered.

Trying to convince himself that he didn’t want what you had with Niragi.

That he didn’t want you.

~

The door swung open, and the three of you stepped inside. The apartment was dim, barely lit by the yellow glow of the lightbulb Niragi had installed earlier, casting long shadows across the walls.

Niragi wasted no time tossing his gun onto the couch, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy groan. “Fuck.”

You set your things down on the counter, barely able to catch your breath between fits of laughter. “No, but seriously, you should’ve seen your face—”

“My face? What about yours?” Niragi shot back, jabbing a finger at you as he leaned against the counter beside you. His grin was wide, teeth glinting under the dim light. “You were the one who tripped and ate shit right into that pile of rubble—”

You doubled over, gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright. “Oh my god, Niragi, that was your fault! You pushed me!”

“Bullshit! You fell on your own.”

“I literally felt your foot hook around my ankle—”

“You’re making shit up.”

“You’re delusional—”

The two of you were practically in tears, shoulders shaking with laughter, voices bouncing off the walls of the apartment. It had been a long time since you felt this light—since you felt anything other than the crushing weight of survival. And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was reckless, but right now, you didn’t care.

Chishiya, however, was quiet.

He stood by the door, watching the two of you, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He had been silent the entire way home, but now, in the dim light of the apartment, that silence felt heavier.

BANG.

The sound cracked through the apartment like a whip, cutting through your laughter so sharply it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Your breath hitched in your throat as your entire body went rigid, the sound ringing in your ears.

Your eyes snapped to Chishiya.

Smoke curled from the barrel of Niragi’s gun, his fingers still wrapped around the trigger.

And then—slowly, with a sickening kind of horror—your gaze drifted to Niragi.

His body swayed, the color draining from his face, and for a second, it was like time had stopped. The sharp scent of gunpowder burned your nose, but all you could focus on was the way his lips parted in a breathless, disbelieving sound.

And then you saw it.

The dark stain blooming across his side. The way his fingers twitched as he reached down, pressing against the wound like he could somehow stop it from being real. His breathing came sharp and uneven, his body finally catching up to the pain.

Your stomach lurched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Chishiya shot Niragi.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina

[obliterated-character-tournament]

one character and only one character who is still technically alive will be included in the tournament 

Nina Tucker

google it if you don’t know

[beloveds-embrace]

noona. noon. any angsty thoughts to share for the duke au? 👁️ (i’m craving angst sorry)

Original post

I DO!! Angst version of the au would be if you weren’t welcomed at all. Sure, no one is being flat out rude to you, no one is actively sabotaging you and John doesn’t hit or force you into anything.

But it’s lonely.

The maids barely touch you, as if disgusted they have to help and tend to the woman their Duke needed to and not wanted to marry, and the butlers are the same. Especially the head butler Garrick. You still don’t know his first name and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell you.

During the dinner… nights with John, you’ve started noticing that your food isn’t quite as well done as his? Less decorated, occasionally burnt or not cooked well, but you don’t want to cause any trouble so you remain silent and John never asks why you seem to eat so little.

You do also meet Duke Riley, the man that John is said to have an incredibly close friendship with, something born during his time servicing the kingdom. You’ve heard so much about him, from bad to good, and you wonder how he actually is.

In the end, you wish you hadn’t met him, too. The humiliation of being flat-out ignored in your own home while he speaks amicably with John…

So yes. Life as Duchess Price isn’t a happy one, but you are just glad you aren’t physically hurting.

But you do find solace in the only kindness your parents had bothered to show you before they gave you away; your personal knight, König. He is the only one to not treat you as such. He is the only one you can confide in, feel just a little bit of happiness and friendship with even if you haven’t even seen his face yet.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper to him one night, under the blanket of the night sky. You’d thrown a simple shawl over your shoulders, and hadn’t questioned it when he fell in steps behind you, always a protective shadow. Today had been hard. You had also decided to no longer dine with John, not too excited about the lackluster food and the stilted conversations. Cold maids, lonely night… you ached for something more.

You take in a shuddering breath, wrapping the shawl tighter around yourself. Konig stands right beside the bench you are sitting on, a familiar and comforting sight and presence. But tonight, it’s not enough. “I’m so tired, König.” You repeat, your voice cracking.

König simply stares at you for a while; you are used to it, used to everything about him. The mask, the accent, the unyielding body that is always keeping you safe. The quiet congestions you have had, during the days you lock yourself away in your office to ignore the loneliness and sadness plaguing you.

You aren’t used to seeing König bend down in front of you, holding his hands out until you place them in his. Familiar pale eyes peer up at you. Proper etiquette doesn’t matter to you in this moment; who will chastise you for the lack of it when this entire duchy holds only the most basic form of respect for you?

Even if they did, you would not let go of König, your confidant. Your knight.

“…What do you need, mylady?”

After a silent moment, you take in a deep breath and look back at him. “…I want… someone who loves me enough to be kind towards me. I want someone who loves me.”

König nods his head. With bated breath, you watch silently as he brings your hands forward, under his mask, to kiss each knuckle on your hands.

“I am your knight, mylady. I am your sword, and your shield. I, too, can be your lover if that is what you want, mylady. Whatever you desire, it is my duty to provide.” König breathes out against your skin, eyes not once flicking away, words not once breaking. He is fully devoted in his decision. “Will you allow me, mylady? The decision is your, always has been. I cannot take you away from this horrible place-“ not yet. “-but I can give you my love and devotion, just as I’ve always done. Will you allow me, mylady?”

And after everything you’ve been through, all the pain and loneliness and exclusion- you can’t say no.

“…Yes, König.”

(By the time John begins to realize that he may have misjudged you, once you find out the truth, it is already far too late for mending any bridges. There is no particular feeling when you look at him, or any of his men. You only ask that no one bothers your time alone with your shadow, your knight. It’s far too late for anything.)

Part 2 + dukedom au masterlist

[amirasainz]

Can you do a Lando Norris x Sister where she gets hate? Comfort please

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Behind the screen

Yn scrolled through her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. It was supposed to be a fun way to pass time—a quick look at social media to see what people were saying about the latest race. Instead, her screen was filled with comments that stung more than she wanted to admit.

"Why does Yn look so different? Has she even been eating?"

"It’s like she’s stopped trying altogether. At least put some effort into your looks if you’re going to show up on TV."

"Does she even care about her brother? She’s never at his races anymore."

Her throat tightened as she read each comment, their words echoing in her mind. The weight she’d lost had been unintentional—stress, school, and the whirlwind of her life had taken a toll. And her absence at Lando’s races wasn’t because she didn’t care. She loved her brother more than anything, but sometimes being in the spotlight, even indirectly, was too much.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she turned off her phone and tossed it onto the bed. Yn curled up, hugging a pillow close to her chest, wishing she could shrink into nothingness.

That’s when the door to her room creaked open.

“Yn?” Lando’s voice was soft but concerned. He stepped inside, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, wiping her face quickly and sitting up. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. Lando walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her intently. “You’re crying. Don’t say it’s nothing. What happened?”

Yn hesitated, but the lump in her throat grew too big to swallow. “It’s just… people online. They’re saying horrible things about me. About my weight, how I look, how I don’t go to your races enough. It’s stupid, I know, but it just—it hurts.”

Lando’s face darkened. “They said what?”

She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her trembling hands gave her away. “It’s not a big deal. People say stuff all the time—”

“No, Yn. That’s not okay.” His tone was sharp, protective. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“It’s fine, really,” she repeated weakly. “I just need to toughen up.”

“Stop that.” Lando moved closer, taking her hands in his. “You don’t have to ‘toughen up.’ This is messed up, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. You’re my sister, Yn. No one gets to talk about you like that.”

Yn sniffled, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers. “I just… I hate that they think I don’t care about you. I do, Lando. I just—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted, his voice softening. “You’ve always been my biggest supporter, whether you’re at the track or not. And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know anything.”

She looked down, her tears threatening to spill again. “But they’re right about how I look. I’ve lost weight, and I haven’t been dressing up or putting in effort, and—”

“Yn,” Lando said firmly, cutting her off. “You’re beautiful, okay? Always have been, always will be. And anyone who says otherwise can shove it.”

She let out a shaky laugh, despite herself. “You can’t say that to your fans.”

“Watch me.” Lando’s jaw clenched, and he stood up, pacing the room. “I’m not letting this slide. They think they can say whatever they want because they’re behind a screen. But they don’t get to hurt you. Ever.”

Yn watched him, a mix of gratitude and guilt swirling in her chest. “You don’t have to do anything, Lando. It’ll just blow over.”

“No,” he said firmly, grabbing his phone. “I’m putting an end to this now.”

“Lando—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I mean it, Yn. This isn’t just about me. If they’re saying this stuff to you, they’ll do it to someone else. And I’m not going to sit back and let it happen.”

Before she could argue further, Lando opened his social media app. She could see the determination in his eyes as he began typing.

----------------------‐---------------------------

A few minutes later, his post was live.

*“I’ve seen the disgusting comments directed at my sister, and I’m absolutely done with it. Yn is one of the most important people in my life, and the fact that anyone thinks it’s okay to tear her down is beyond unacceptable. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither does anyone else.

If this is what being a fan of mine looks like, I’d rather not have fans at all. I won’t be using social media anymore if this continues. Treat people with kindness, or don’t speak at all.”*

---------------------------------‐--------------------

Lando set his phone down and turned back to Yn. “Done. If they want to act like idiots, they can do it without me.”

Yn’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do that. You love social media.”

“Not more than I love you,” he said simply, sitting back down beside her. “Yn, you’re my little sister. My job is to protect you. And if that means stepping away from social media or calling out people who think they can mess with you, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

She leaned into his shoulder, feeling a wave of relief and love wash over her. “Thanks, Lando. You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said with a small smile, wrapping an arm around her. “And I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”

For the first time that day, Yn felt a little lighter. The hateful comments still lingered in the back of her mind, but Lando’s unwavering support reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

And with an overprotective brother like him, she knew she never would be.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor. 

“You left yourself too open again.” 

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath. 

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.” 

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk. 

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep. 

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you. 

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.  

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts. 

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied. 

If only they could see you now. 

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything. 

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that. 

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time. 

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next. 

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.  

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you. 

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission. 

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha. 

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you. 

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control. 

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs. 

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.” 

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?” 

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.” 

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you. 

Maybe the training is working after all. 

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.” 

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you. 

Something that’s already happened. 

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that? 

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely? 

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you. 

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again. 

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door. 

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast. 

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you. 

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about. 

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth. 

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.” 

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. 

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge. 

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes. 

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too. 

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you. 

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently. 

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.” 

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says. 

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room. 

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller? 

That is what you were supposed to do. 

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned. 

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time. 

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is. 

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him. 

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.” 

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you. 

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?” 

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much. 

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues. 

It would at least help you forget for a while. 

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life. 

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants. 

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you. 

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you. 

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance. 

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.” 

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you. 

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?” 

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now. 

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset. 

He hates it when you cry. 

Alphas don’t cry. 

You’re not an alpha. 

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened. 

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants. 

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash. 

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears. 

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.” 

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter. 

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.” 

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank. 

“No!” 

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees. 

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat. 

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice. 

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare. 

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths. 

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain. 

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time. 

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot. 

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.” 

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected. 

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap. 

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.” 

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.” 

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you. 

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice. 

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.” 

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.” 

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on  they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own. 

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened. 

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is. 

He hates it. 

He hates the way he feels. 

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in. 

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up. 

The worst part? 

He likes it. 

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence. 

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long. 

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over? 

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls. 

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival. 

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest. 

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room. 

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help. 

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally. 

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. 

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest. 

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily. 

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you. 

It’s working. 

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks. 

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.” 

“You like the beach?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.” 

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.” 

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully. 

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.” 

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception. 

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.” 

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.” 

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.” 

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.” 

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation. 

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm. 

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly. 

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.” 

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin. 

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork. 

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.” 

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.” 

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy. 

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back. 

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you. 

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.” 

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment. 

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you. 

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?” 

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds. 

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan. 

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.” 

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John. 

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you. 

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.” 

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock? 

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins. 

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?” 

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.” 

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.” 

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.” 

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed. 

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement. 

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager. 

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed. 

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass. 

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again. 

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both. 

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?” 

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before. 

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him. 

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?” 

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement. 

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak. 

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high. 

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back. 

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life. 

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours. 

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls. 

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock. 

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnes

@protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai

@redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg

@beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff

@smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60

@evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine

@thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows

@ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce

@darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood

@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[shaunamilfman]

if i could be who you wanted

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader (and the memory of Jackie) summary: You're Melissa. iykyk note: Minors DNI. mentions of blood, cannibalism.

You duck behind a bush the second you hear the sticks cracking beneath Shauna's feet, a bolt of fear shooting up your spine. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

God, Shauna would kill you if she found you out here. And you would deserve it for being so stupid.

You hadn't meant to follow her out here–well, that wasn't exactly true. You had meant to follow her, sure, but this was the last thing you had expected to find. It was sweet in a horribly depressing sort of way. It's not like you hadn't heard the way all the other girls talk about her around camp, the way they comment on her refusal to wear the dumb mask. She was grieving in her own way, and this was proof of it. 

So you'd watched her visit his grave, feeling like some pathetic stalker intruding in on one of the worst moments of her life. But it wasn't the first time that's happened, was it? Everything Shauna's gone through has been in front of everyone, leaving the rest of you to watch like voyeurs as Shauna found Jackie's body. And again, as she lost her baby. 

Maybe you should have let her have this one thing to herself, but you couldn't stop yourself from leaving the flower on his grave. You just wanted Shauna to know that she wasn't alone, even though she kept pushing everybody away. Good thinking, really. She's lost her best friend and her baby, but she has you: random JV girl. 

You're not even sure she knows your name, even now. She'd pointed toward you and called you “that one” just last week. But it was fine. Shauna had a lot going on. Especially with her growing feud with Mari. She had actually looked at you then and seemingly saw you for the first time when you had shit-talked Mari to her. If you knew that was all it would take, you would’ve done it ages ago. It’s not like you haven’t been doing it behind Mari’s back for months.

Your hands start to shake as Shauna pulls the knife out. Pressing your hands into your thighs in an attempt to stop it only results in you finally putting enough pressure on the stick you were kneeling on to crack beneath your weight.

Fuck.

Shauna whirls around, staring intensely in your direction as she holds the knife out to her side. You know what she’s done with that knife, what you wish she would do to you. You don’t dare move, hoping that maybe Shauna won’t see you that way. Like in Jurassic Park. As long as you just stay still and make no noise, maybe you can get out of here alive.

You’re honestly terrified, and it’s not unwarranted. She was known to fly off the handle at the best of times, and here you were leaving flowers on her dead son’s grave in the middle of the woods with no one around to hear you scream. In simple terms, you’re screwed.

“Get out here,” she calls out, stepping slowly forward as her eyes search the underbrush before coming to a stop as you stand up.

You approach her slowly, with your hands clearly visible at your sides. No sudden movements. The way she’s watching you goes beyond anger, beyond even rage. You can’t put your finger on it, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying to be on the receiving end of. It reminds you oddly of the stray dogs in your neighborhood, ribs visible beneath fur matted with grime, feral eyes focused entirely on you. It’s something in the way they bare their teeth and growl as you slowly inch away, like they’re just praying you turn your back to them so they have an excuse to lunge forward. 

Back then you were at least smart enough to leave. 

Now, you were moving towards the predator.

You smile weakly at Shauna, and she doesn’t even seem to notice. Every bit of her attention is focused on you for once, but now that you have it, you aren’t sure you know what to do with it. This was a lot, wasn’t it? It certainly felt like it. You’ve always heard that not all attention is good attention, but death glare or not, you were willing to take what you could get. You haven’t survived in the wilderness this long without taking what you could get and saying thank you for the scraps. 

“Hey,” you say slowly.

You keep walking forward even as Shauna starts stalking toward you. If looks could kill, she wouldn’t even need to make use of the knife in her hand. Your heartbeat skyrockets, beating so hard in your chest that you can barely hear the words that leave your lips as you speak them.

“I didn’t mean to follow you, or anything. I just–I couldn’t sleep, you know?” You force out a panicked laugh that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else. Were you sweating? It felt like you’re sweating. You’re sweating like a pig, aren't you? 

Focus.

“I just saw you leaving and I thought maybe I could look out for you.”

Shauna’s still quiet, damningly so as she looks at you. She doesn’t even blink. Just stares.

“Not that you need anyone to protect you, obviously.” You gesture vaguely in the direction of the knife at her side, but Shauna only grips it tighter. You were just digging the hole deeper at this point. 

“But with Coach out there and Mari missing…” You trail off as you realize your words seem to have absolutely no meaning to her.

“No one,” Shauna says, gliding forward with the effortless grace of a predator. She’s not a stray dog anymore, not shaky and desperate and feral. Now she looks like the killer she is. 

(The mother she is.)

“Has a right to my baby.”

Your eyes widen in fear as you take a step back, a distance that Shauna is quick to close. She doesn’t even seem to think as she moves forward. It’s not a calculated intimidation like you were used to. It just was.

“He’s my baby,” Shauna repeats.

“Oh,” you gasp, not entirely from fear. Mostly not from fear, though the feeling overwhelmed almost every one of your senses. Almost.

“No, it’s not–I wasn’t trying to…” You start helplessly. It takes everything you have in you not to start stuttering like an idiot in front of her. You weren’t doing much to help your case right now. A fact you’re reminded of as Shauna’s eyes feel like they’re drilling holes into your skull. One wrong move and you’d end up like Mari with a face full of dirt, but no one around to pull Shauna off of you.

“You’re right,” you say earnestly. Shauna hesitates for a moment, her feet stilling as she watches you. It’s almost scarier now that she’s staying in place, like her muscles are just coiling up and waiting to strike. 

“I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened to you. It’s not fair–not that anything has been since…” You don’t even have to say the words. Still, the words the crash hang between you just as heavily. It hung between all of you, a constant reminder of everything you’ve lost and still have to lose since boarding that plane to nationals. 

“But you just keep moving forward,” you continue. “And I really admire that.”

Shauna softens slightly, but not much. Not enough that you aren’t sure she isn’t still planning to gut you. You aren’t even sure if she knows. Shauna moves so impulsively at times that it seems to be as much of a surprise to her as it is to everyone else, like she’s halfway through the action before she even notices and has to commit to seeing it through.

“I just–”

She lunges forward, the knife away from her side and pressing against your neck before you even take another breath. Your back slams into the tree, scratching painfully against the bark beneath your skin. It hurts. But as Shauna looms over you–even though she’s looking up at you– you quickly realize how much you like it. How could you not when she looks at you with brown eyes so wild and dark and so, so close?

“If you tell anybody about this, I will fucking kill you,” Shauna says, a raw anger to her words that sends chills through your body in more ways than one. “I will kill you, and I will gut your little fucking–”

What she was going to gut will have to remain a mystery. Because before she can finish the thought, the snarled threat cuts off as you lunge forward–as much as you can with the blade of her prized knife held so closely to your throat–to kiss her. You keep your eyes open just long enough to watch hers close as your lips connect, a moment of surprise on her face before it’s gone in a flash and she’s pulling away.

The knife is held looser in her hands now, tilted up to point to your chin instead of pressed so threateningly against your throat. She’s watching you closely, her mind whirring as she scrutinizes every inch of your expression. You can practically hear her mind working, and you hope desperately that she’s decided she wants to kiss you again more than she wants to hurt you for what you did. 

It’s so quiet, not a single sign of the wildlife around you.

Just the two of you panting together inches apart.

She presses forward, closing the distance as she all but slams your lips together. Both of her hands are wrapped around her knife, holding it steady even as yours fall to her hips and pull them desperately into yours. Shauna doesn’t need to be told twice, keeping you up against that tree and exactly where she wants you as she moves her hips against yours.

Shauna has the knife and unlimited power to do whatever the hell she wants out here so far from everybody else. Somehow it’s the safest you’ve felt in months.

She kisses you like she wants to devour you, which probably is a thought in the back of her mind. The only thoughts left in yours are holy shit and please. Shauna is everywhere you are, not allowing your lips to get a moment of peace as she chases each and every twitch of your jaw. You think she’d probably still kiss you on the way down if you passed out from the desperate screaming of your lungs, and the thought isn’t as unwelcome as it once might have been.

Your mouths separate just long enough for the two of you to suck in one desperate breath apiece before she’s on you again. As confused as Shauna looked the first time she pulled away, she sure seemed to get the hang of kissing a girl rather quickly. It makes you wonder if she and–

She yanks you away from the tree with one hand fisted in either side of the collar of your shirt, the knife still held in one hand. You have to turn your head to the side to avoid her cutting your jaw, leaving you unaware of the shove before it comes. It sends you stumbling back, your ankle catching painfully on an upturned root as it takes your legs out from under you far more effectively than Shauna could have done on her own.

Your back hits the ground with a loud wheeze, the sound of all the air in your lungs making a quick exit. Shauna follows you down onto her knees, one leg swinging over your hips as she settles down heavily on the base of your stomach while you’re still trying to find air left to breathe.

“Shauna,” you gasp, staring wide-eyed up at her. 

She tilts her head to the side in consideration before leaning down to attach her lips to yours once again. You’re not sure it's because she still wants to kiss you as much as she wants you not to protest.

You can feel a rock digging into your back, only made worse by the way Shauna rests more of her weight on your shoulder as she leans forward, but you might still kiss Shauna even if she started biting chunks of flesh away. A rock was nothing in comparison.

Shauna’s hand was still wrapped around the knife. She wasn’t using it to threaten you anymore, was barely even aiming it in your direction, but the handle of it digs into your ribs as she holds it between the two of you. With each messy roll of her hips against your stomach, she runs the risk of cutting herself on the edge of it, which you think must be part of the thrill of it for her. The thought of the sounds that would leave Shauna’s lips if she caught the edge of her skin made you kiss her harder, almost desperate to watch her shirt turn red with it.

You’re so caught up in that thought that you almost don’t notice her fingers loosening around the hilt until she finally arches her back enough to sit it vaguely off to the side in favor of threading her fingers through your hair. 

The sudden absence of the knife is almost enough to pull you out of it. 

“What?” You question dumbly.

“Shut up, Jax,” she mutters, freezing the moment her brain makes the connection. Shauna looks afraid for the briefest of moments as she looks down at you. Not afraid of you or the situation. Afraid of what letting the name slip from her lips means for her. Fear quickly turns into a murderous glare. Like it was somehow your fault she said it, like you had torn it from her lips like your teeth tore flesh away from Jackie.

It takes a moment for you to realize the significance of it, far too focused on the feeling of her rubbing herself against your stomach to listen to the words coming out of her mouth. You could adapt. You’ve done a lot of that lately.

“Oh…” you say quietly, “Oh–okay.”

You lick your lips, trying to speak even as dry as your throat feels. “Okay, Shippy?” You try. 

That wasn’t it.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” She hisses, fingers flexing like she’s already missing her knife.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, speaking right over you. “Just shut up.” 

You nod quickly. She grabs your chin roughly, holding your gaze captive as she forces you to meet her eyes. Whatever she finds there seems to satisfy her, because she lets go with a scoff as she rolls her eyes.

“That’s good,” she says condescendingly, tapping your cheek lightly with her fingers. “You’re good at doing what you’re told, huh?”

You flush with embarrassment, eyes drifting away as you struggle to find something to say back to that. As it turns out, you don’t have to. Not as Shauna pulls the button through her shorts, slowly dragging the zipper down as you watch. She’s holding you still with the weight of your anticipation, and she’s more than enjoying the power it gives her over you as she moves away just enough to pull her shorts and her panties out of the way in one rough pull.

“I want your mouth,” Shauna says. 

It isn’t a question, but you nod anyway. She smirks, and that’s all she needs to start moving. One thigh and then the next settling on either side of your head. Your fingers tremble with hesitancy as you slowly reach out to grip her thighs, but Shauna either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as her hand reaches out to grab your hair.

Shauna holds herself just out of reach, tantalizingly wet and just aching for your tongue. The muscles in her thighs strain from the effort, but that doesn’t register for Shauna. You feel your mouth water, leaning forward only for her to yank you back by your hair. The pained gasp you let out has an obvious effect on Shauna, her grip tightening as her cunt visibly twitches. It’s only when you give up and send her a pleading look that she finally lowers herself within reach of your mouth.

She cries out in shock at how quickly you are to take her into your mouth, your curious tongue running through her as her free hand shoots out to rest on the forest floor to balance herself.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, which goes straight through you.

You pull her closer by your grip on her thighs, figuring she wouldn’t get mad at you for it now that she’s let you get your mouth on her. It was a fair guess, not even a thought of protest leaving Shauna’s lips as you bury yourself in her.

She grinds down against your face, smearing her arousal up and down your chin and your cheeks. The ends of her flannel brush against your skin as she moves, her head tilted back to look at the tops of the trees as she bites at her lip to keep herself nice and quiet. Shauna doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of hearing her moan.

But you can feel it in the way she holds herself, in the way she chases your tongue like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Shauna can play games all she likes, but her satisfaction is undeniable as you flick your tongue across her clit. She whines, a choked sound that’s punished with the nails of one hand digging into your arm. You can feel blood slowly making its way down your arm, but you pay it no mind.

It’s almost like she can sense how cocky that reaction has made you, rising up on her knees and out of reach. You try to chase her again, because you never learn, to meet with no success once again.

“Nuh-uh,” she says mockingly, lightly–as far as Shauna is concerned–slapping your cheek. “I'll decide when you get to taste.”

Shauna hovers out of reach, reaching down to rub her thumb across the streaks of wetness on your cheeks. She brings it to your lips, looking pleased when you suck the tip of her thumb into your mouth. There’s something like delight in her eyes as she presses her thumb down against your tongue, holding it in place at the bottom of your mouth to feel the slick warmth of it before pulling her hand away again.

Is she seriously going to make you beg to get her off? You take one long look at Shauna, pulling lightly at her thighs.

“Please? Please, Shauna.”

You strain against her grip, anything to get her back into your mouth. You’re beyond pride. Making yourself look as pathetic as possible has worked for you so far, and it works again as Shauna lowers herself down to start riding your tongue. 

She doesn’t even take a moment to get back into it, slipping back in place like she never left. You couldn’t care, not when she’s taking exactly what she wants from you. This is what you’ve wanted from her for months, and now it’s finally yours.

You can just barely make out the sounds of her chanting a name under her breath, over and over like a prayer. “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.”

It should sting, and part of it does, but you can live with having Jackie’s seconds. God knows it wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you out here. Besides, Jackie wasn’t the one beneath her right now. Wasn’t the one whose face she was riding. She may be imagining it was Jackie, but you’re still the one with your mouth on her.

You grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place as they start to quiver on either side of your head.

Shauna comes with a muffled grunt, biting at her hand to keep herself from calling out. She doesn’t want to come, doesn’t want her body to betray her in the way it so obviously is, but she can’t help herself. She’s so quiet you almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way her hips buck as she soaks your face.

Her hips slowly still as she rides out the last of it, panting quietly as her hands rest on either side of your head to hold herself up. After a moment, almost reluctantly, she swings one leg back over the other side of your head as she stumbles to her feet on unsteady legs. Shauna wipes the hand she’d rubbed across your face on her shirt, trying to get rid of the last evidence of your dalliance.

It would’ve been a smart idea if not for the way she covers the lower half of your face and smears the inside of her thighs. Shauna stares down at you as she picks the knife back up, twirling it idly in her hand before sighing.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she says. There’s no bite to it, no real sting. She’s speaking the truth as plainly as she can manage it.

“Yeah, probably,” you agree.

Shauna laughs gruffly as she pulls her clothes back on. She sends you back sprawling into the dirt with a well-placed hand on your forehead as you start to sit forward, grinning at the shocked huff you make.

“Don’t follow me next time,” she warns.

You should say okay, which would be the acceptable thing to do. It’s clearly what she’s expecting you to say.

“What if I do?”

Shauna hesitates. “Find out.”

She walks away, leaving you dazed on the forest floor.

[starmocha]

ok, imagine you have a nightmare about caleb exactly two months before his death. he happens to be staying with you, a day off just to say hi that turned into a sleepover. you find him at 3am, crawl into his bed, his lap, he's trying to soothe you, asking what happened but you're sobbing, playing a shaking hand over his chest just to feel his heart beating. he manages to calm you down, holding you close, letting you cry it out until he thought you were sleeping/ end part 1

ANON. EATING THIS UP. EATING THIS UP!!!!! nooo pls don’t ever apologize for that. I was so delighted to see the Caleb spam. They’re always welcome in my inbox :)))) Here. I wrote a little something, because I see Caleb and I’m weakened instantly 🥹 And if you haven’t already, pls check out my beloved @rose-tinted-kalopsia’s fic, baby, kiss it better. She wrote about Caleb comforting you after your nightmare. Literally in my top 5 fave LADS fics overall 💖💖💖💖💖

but stay with me

It was the most horrible sound you had ever heard. So godawful, it woke you up from that nightmare.

Still shaken, your fragile heart was racing, pumping erratically against your chest, your own breathing was just as irregular. The heavy panting was mixed with the choked back sobs, your emotions in complete turmoil as you tried to convinced yourself that everything you had just witnessed was not real. It was just a nightmare.

It took you a few extra minutes before it finally clicked in your head that your face was wet with tears. You wiped at your eyes furiously with the side of your arm, but it seemed to have only encouraged more tears to fall, your chest tightening with each painful breath taken.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

You repeated the mantra, a vain, pitiful attempt to calm yourself.

It was not real. It was just a nightmare.

Except, it wasn’t the boogeyman that scared you. It wasn’t the social anxiety of standing before a large crowd giving a speech while naked. It wasn’t even something like your dolls coming to life to murder you.

Those were all irrational figments of your imagination, concepts so exaggerated they had no place in reality.

But this.

It could very well happen. The world was scary enough to allow this to happen.

You closed your eyes.

You watched him turned his back on you, his hand on the door handle. He opened the door, entering without you, the door closing in your face. Just as you reached for the very same handle he had touched, there was an explosion that knocked you back, leaving you crumbled on the floor staring in confused abject horror as your grandmother’s house went up in flames, destroyed within a blink of an eye for seemingly no goddamn reason.

In just a few seconds, he was ripped out of your life.

In just a few seconds, he was stolen from you.

In just a few seconds, the boy who had promised to always be by your side was gone.

Caleb…Caleb…!

“Caleb!” you screamed out his name, no longer sure whether you were still within that nightmare or if you were awake, suffering from the lingering horrors you had witnessed, the cruel image now ingrained deeply in your mind like a stubborn weed you couldn’t kill, its roots strong and hardy going far deeper into the soil than you could ever reach.

Get out of your head, you scolded yourself firmly. Caleb is alive. He’s asleep in the living room.

It was such a nice day. Caleb had arrived in Linkon for a surprise visit from Skyhaven, managing to find time to slip away from the Deepspace Aviation Administration to see his favorite person in the world and celebrate her recent achievements at the Hunters Association. You both spent the day catching up, reminiscing as you both bumbled your way throughout the city, going from store to store, taking countless pictures to preserve the memory of the day, and laughed until your sides hurt and your cheeks sore from all of the smiles exchanged.

When you came home, Caleb made all of his signature dishes, spoiling you even when he was a guest in your home. It was just a habit he couldn’t break, one that he also showed no particular interest in rectifying. Like a summer breeze, Caleb brought warmth into your home, into your life. When Caleb was here, the world seemed just a bit gentler, a little safer, and you found your guard lowering, letting yourself drown in his familiar warmth.

Caleb was the very feeling of home, and he would always be home to you, encompassing all of the warm memories borne from the innocent years of growing up together.

You tried to steady your breathing once more. There was a hollowness in your eyes, your mind settling but still restless.

You wondered how such a perfect day gave way to the most horrific dream of your life.

Like a zombie, you left your bed, moving sluggishly down the halls to the living room with no clear thought in your head. You approached the couch, peering down at the figure asleep, curled up on that small sofa that could barely contain his large stature.

You stood next to the couch, staring down, breathing a little shaky again now that you are looking at him. He was there, asleep, where he should be.

You could see him clearly with your own eyes, but there was still a seed of doubt planted in your mind, a nagging voice trying to manipulate you, spreading lies in your head that he was just a figment of your imagination, that you were just in another layer of a dream.

You reached out, the pads of your fingers skimmed over his cheek, barely making contact, but perhaps there was still just enough of an electrifying touch to rouse Caleb from his deep slumber.

He stirred.

You quickly pulled your hand back, your breathing worsening. Before you could turn and retreat, Caleb called out to you in the darkness, his voice raspier than normal, still caught somewhere between dreaming and consciousness.

“Pipsqueak? What’s the matt—”

The words died at his lips, his perfect vision noticing instantly even in the darkness your puffy, red eyes. He immediately shoved the cover to the side, rushing to his feet as he gripped your arms, bent down to your height to thoroughly examine you.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt somewhere? Do you feel unwell?”

You sniffled, unable to answer the barrage of questions being hurled at you. When you try to speak, the fragments of your nightmare resurfaced, forming that awful image in your mind again. Unable to say anything, you threw your arms around his waist, the suddenness surprised Caleb into losing his balance and you both fell back onto the couch with you on top of him. Instinctively, Caleb’s arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of him was already easing your anxiety, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. You wanted more, needed more.

Needed him. Just so.

Your face pressed into his chest, his heart beating softly and you started to breathe easier again. His body heat spread to you, his gentle voice calling out once more.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers were under your chin, slowly lifting your head up so your eyes could meet. He sighed, disheartened, upon seeing just how red and swollen your eyes were. “What could have made the fearless Miss Hunter here so terrified that she cried until her eyes were so red and puffy?”

You recognized the faint teasing lilt in his voice, the same one he had used since childhood as a way to console you, to brighten your mood, and coax out whatever secrets you were keeping from him. It always worked, and you would confess to him about your fears, reveal the bullies who were tormenting you, or any worries that filled your little head, and Caleb would always come to the rescue and make the world right again.

This time, though, you did not want to tell him.

You quietly lowered your eyes, missing the instant hurt on Caleb’s face when you refused to speak to him.

An awkward silence started to creep into the room, but neither one of you spoke. You continued to withhold this nightmare from him, afraid that if you voice it out loud, something would get set in motion and what was once just a horrific dream would become an irreversible reality.

Caleb himself felt a little lost and suddenly helpless, a role he was unfamiliar with. He was always your protector, your confidant, and your companion, so to see you so terrified to the point that you couldn’t even speak to him made him question his own worth. He closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled, deciding that this silence had gone on long enough.

Easily, he scooped you into his arms, ignoring your surprised cries as he stood up and carried you back to your bed.

“Ca-Caleb?”

“It’s late,” he murmured, not looking down at you, “Let’s get you back into bed.”

You huffed and lightly beat at his chest with one small fist. “Caleb, I’m not a kid anymore,” you said, muttering softly, “You shouldn’t speak to me like that.”

You were lowered down into the soft mattress, and before Caleb could straighten, you grabbed at the front of his shirt, yanking him down until he fell on top of you in surprise.

“Pipsq—”

Your lips pressed to his, and Caleb was stunned into silence, his eyes widened in surprise. A million thoughts seemed to race through Caleb’s mind, and not one of them made sense or even tried to rationalize what was happening in this instance.

Your lips felt so warm and soft against his, and perhaps in a moment of weakness, he closed his eyes, returning the kiss, deepening it further, realizing that this was everything he had wanted for years. The line he had always wished to cross but hesitated was now gone. You were the first to cross to him, so how could he just refuse this moment? Refuse you?

Neither of you know how much time had passed, breaking apart only when you needed to breathe. Caleb’s hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his eyes locked with yours, both your cheeks flushed and your breathing labored.

“Caleb…you’re leaving soon…”

He looked confused, unsure of what was going through your head. You were behaving so abnormally tonight, so emotional and distressed, he was starting to go mad with worry, wanting to do anything to chase away the anxiety that was grappling you.

“Not for another three days,” he answered as calmly as he could, “I’m all yours until then, pipsqueak.”

“Will you be mine tonight?”

He stilled, his breathing stopping the moment he heard those words, wondering if maybe his hearing might have deceived him. It was a few seconds before he managed to find his voice, though as he spoke, it wasn’t even registering in his head that he was speaking to you, “What…did you say, pipsqueak?”

You looked up, blinking away the tears that still remained. You stared into his violet eyes, wishing to look into them forever. “I want you, Caleb…please…”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, his voice wavering enough that he wondered who he was trying to convince: you…or him?

You shook your head vehemently. “No…I am. I am, I am, I am, I am…!”

Your hands cupped his face, your voice steadied and assured. “This is the most lucid I’ve ever been.” As you stared into his questioning eyes, your heart dropped suddenly. There was an acute shift in your expression, reflecting your sudden mood change, and to others, it was subtle enough that no one would notice, but with Caleb, he was always aware of everything about you. He saw the shift, that flicker of fear in your eyes before you had blinked them away. Quietly, you asked, afraid of his answer, afraid of whatever truth awaited you in the next few seconds, “Or…do you not want me?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in shock, his heart stirring at hearing the anxiousness in your feeble voice. One large hand slipped under your head and you were pressed forward closer to him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss, the depths of his feelings like a tidal wave sweeping away everything in its path.

“Fuck no,” he groaned, the rasp in his voice more prevalent than normal. “I…I’ve always wanted you. I’ll always want you.”

“Re…really?”

“Really.”

“Really, really?”

“Really, really.”

His breathing stuttered, his eyes flickering from your own, a mix of fear and yearning in your gaze, to your lips, trembling and waiting. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he leaned down closer, the warmth of his breath caressed against your lips as he spoke, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you answered.

“One last chanc—”

You kissed him, swallowing that last word. He instantly submitted to you, his kisses ravenous as if a dam had just been broken, and now there was nothing holding back his own feelings. As you kissed him, gasping in between, your hands fumbled against his clothes, tugging at his t-shirt. He let you guide him, the shirt slipping off and revealing his toned torso.

You didn’t have long to appreciate them before you realized his own hands were on the waistband of your shorts, giving an experimental tug down. He shifted his gaze to you, waiting, and you nodded. He smirked and made quick work of discarding your bottoms, his breathing growing heavier now that the only thing left were the light pink cotton panties you wore.

“Caleb…” your lips found his again, pulling him back to you. As you two kissed, his lips trailing all over, marking you up in ways you had never dreamed about before. You gasped, arching up into him when you felt his bulge brushing over your core, the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms not enough of a barrier between the two of you.

The way he was breathing so heavily, his pants making you more aroused than you could have ever realized. One large hand slipped under your shirt, easily covering your entire breast. You whined when that same callous hand circled your breast, his fingers finding your nipple to pinch and play with until it firmed under his touch. You fidgeted against him, whining softly at his teasing treatment.

“Are you always this sensitive?” he asked, gazing down in amusement at your flushed cheeks. He laughed softly when you lightly glared at him. His voice lowered, his mouth so close to your right ear that when he spoke, you could feel butterflies fluttering in your belly. “Or is it…only for me?”

He kissed your neck soundly, the warmth of his lips still lingered even when he pulled back, his smoldering violet eyes gazing down at you with such desires, you quickly forgotten your frustration with him. His hands skimmed down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the waistband of your panties. There was still some hesitancy left in him, as if he was afraid that once he crossed this line with you, things would never be like before.

You guided his fingers, letting more of the fabric slip lower and lower, his breathing the only sound heard in the stillness of your bedroom. Once he had slipped the garment off, it seemed like everything moved much faster, the restraints that held both of you back gone in that instance as you both succumbed to the once dormant desires within both of you.

“Ah…Caleb…!” You gasped as he grabbed your thighs, spreading you more. His hardened member pressed against your slick folds, the tip slipping in and you moaned as you took him in slowly. Your thoughts raced as you realized that not only was this happening, but Caleb was much bigger than you could have anticipated. Your belly tightened, body tensing as more of his large length filled you.

He kept you spread, his body leaning forward, the barely-contained groans filling your ears. “So fucking tight,” he rasped, “Fuck, you feel so…so good…better than I could…could have…imagined…”

Your chest heaved, the feverish expression you wore betrayed your feelings, showing him that his words barely registered in your head as all you could do was focus on the feel of him filling you so gloriously. He hummed happily as he leaned down and kissed your lips, giving one final thrust to fill you, your startled gasp swallowed by him as he continued to ravage your lips as he let you get used to the feel of him buried deep inside you.

“Ah…Ca…Caleb…” you whimpered his name in between kisses, your hips rolling against his.

Understanding your need, Caleb slowly pulled out before he thrusted back in, your moans more heavenly than he could have ever thought, and now that he had a taste of the once forbidden fruit, he knew he could never give you up even if he wanted to. Once he was sure you were enjoying yourself, he found a pace that was pleasurable for the both of you, letting go of all the previous hesitancy and yielding completely to this moment of passion.

With every movement, every burning touch, you moaned his name, begging and pleading with him for more, to take you harder, make you his completely. You had said his name so many times before, in so many different tones and with so many moods accompanying them, but he had never heard his name uttered in such a sweet, lascivious way as this with that pretty voice of yours spilling such perverted words. He could get addicted to this, wanting to greedily covet all of these sweet sounds for himself.

His length reached deeply inside you, hitting that sweet spot that had you arching into him, clenching around him. He groaned into your neck, his voice hoarse with desires. “Whatever you want,” he murmured, his voice so soft and lazy, it was almost like you were getting intoxicated by him, “I will give you.”

“Ca…Caleb…”

“Hmm…” He kissed you again, long and slow, savoring your lips and this moment for as long as he could. “I will never stop spoiling you,” he whispered, nipping your bottom lip. His forehead pressed to yours, and another roll of his hips had you arching into him, arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder, crying softly. He gripped your legs on either side of him, pulling you closer to him as he shushed you gently. “You’re so close, baby,” he continued in that same leisure tone, his own groans of pleasure mixed in between his words, “Are you going to cum for me soon?”

“Ye…yes…”

“Yes what?” He was teasing you again, wanting to rile you up. He kissed along your neck once more, his sinfully sweet voice coaxing you closer to the edge. “Tell me. Say it with that pretty voice of yours.”

“Cale…Caleb…”

He hummed again, waiting. He pressed a kiss along your shoulder, his movements quickening to meet your needs.

“Oh god, Caleb!” You gripped him tighter, feeling every deep, hard thrust. You whimpered as he gripped your chin, keep your face close to his.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. “I want to see what you look like cumming on my cock.”

Oh, fuck.

At those perverted words, the long building climax came crashing, your body pulsing with pleasure as you cried out his name with such ecstasy. The sight of you beneath him, shaking in pleasure, lost in a blissful state of euphoria stole his breath away as he chased after his own climax, driving into you over and over again with reckless abandon.

You whimpered, his forearms suddenly resting on either side of you, keeping you completely trapped beneath him as he continued to penetrate you so deeply with quickened movements. His intense kisses assaulted your lips before his hips stuttered and suddenly, he was emptying into you, filling you with ropes of his seed.

“F-fuck…” he panted, his weight heavy on you. For what seemed like several minutes, you both stayed like this, feeling the aftershocks of your climaxes still coursing through your spent bodies. You could feel Caleb’s lazy kisses trailing along your neck, his lips finding your temple. He spoke first, voice soft and gentle, “Are you alright?”

You nodded tiredly, and he smiled.

He pulled out of you, breathing shuddering as his eyes took in the erotic sight of his cum dripping lewdly from your cunt. He didn’t say anything, but this was having more of an arousing effect on him than he could have realized. He swallowed and quickly looked up, meeting your satiated gaze. His expression softened, pleased to see you were in a calmer state now compared to earlier.

He settled down in bed, pulling you into his embrace. You arm draped over his chest as you both basked in the afterglow. The silence that followed was more comfortable this time as both your breathing slowed in time together.

Your eyes drifted close while Caleb ran his fingers through your hair, a troubled expression passed his features suddenly, almost as if he was unsure whether or not he should ruin this mood with the question lingering in his mind.

He didn’t want things to just get swept away, to be forgotten just like that, especially not when he knew you were in such pain before, and he doubted you were completely fine now. Whether this was a good decision or not, Caleb needed to at least try and break through this new barrier you had put up tonight. So, he asked: “Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?”

You stayed completely still in his arms, not moving or reacting in any way. You could sense Caleb’s intense stare, but he was patient as he waited for you to answer his sudden question.

You could still hear the explosion, the crackling of flames left in its wake. The heat was so unbearable, scorching like the fires of Hell itself.

You burrowed into Caleb’s embrace, shaking your head silently as you held him just a bit tighter, the squeeze a gentle reminder that he was still here, still in your arms.

He was safe.

He was safe in your arms.

And he was warm and real and here and yours.

“Alright,” Caleb whispered, his lips pressed to the top of your head. “I’ll be here if you ever want to tell me.”

Your voice sounded so small and helpless, as if you were a child again chasing after him. “You’ll be here?”

He smiled. “Even if I am away, I will always find my way home to you,” he said, his resolve strong. “From Skyhaven or wherever else, I will always return to you no matter the distance.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he answered, not missing a beat. Still seeing the worried creases on your face, Caleb rubbed your cheek affectionately, asking with a tinge of teasing in his voice, “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

And you smiled for the first time that night, because no, he never had.

And he never will.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: May I introduce everyone to my secret extra villain, bureaucratic incompetence! Chapter Title from Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine.

Word Count: 24k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Sunglasses and text messages break the camels back. Usual warnings.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

“Do you,” Ryan swallowed the food in his mouth, staring at the floor as he spoke. “Do you guys get nightmares?”

Ben didn’t know how to handle that question. He didn’t know how to handle most of Ryan’s questions that weren’t about Her or the more glamorous parts of Ben’s past. He could talk about Her for the rest of fucking time and never get tired, and it was pretty damn easy to mutter I did see Star Wars in theaters, was even at the premier of two of those shit-ass movies. Pussy characters, none of them can just get their fucking jobs done. Hero's journey bullshit, and shut your damn mouth Sunshine, you’re the one who told me about the hero's journey. Indiana Jones was a fuck ton better anyway. 

He didn’t talk to anyone but Her about things like nightmares. Even She didn’t know the full extent of them, of the memories of gas and knives and sterilized needles that had plagued Ben’s sleep. Or how they’d turned to terrors of Homelander taking Her, of Ben roaring Her name into the dark and only hearing wordless screams in response, and of blood. Nightmares full of blood and fog that he’d woken up from choking on air while she was gone. Ben certainly didn’t tell Her about the nightmares where he touched her and she started clawing at his skin and sobbing, falling to the floor and not allowing Ben to pick her back up. Where she didn’t recognize him and just kept screaming. 

He’d been waking up with Her screams still ringing in his ears, and hadn’t told her. He wouldn’t tell Her, because this was Ben’s fucking issue, and he’d deal with it his goddamn self. She had enough shit to deal with. She’d spent the past week working her damn ass off—combing through more and more of A-Train’s stupid fucking leads, listening to the media spout more and more bullshit lies about Her life, and training with Ben and Ryan—and her own nightmares had returned. After Ben had found Her in the shower, screaming and crying and fucking breaking apart in front of him, there hadn’t been a night were she hadn’t burst into flames and Ben hadn’t had to listen to the strangled, painful sounds that left her body. But she hadn’t stopped touching him. Linking her arm through Ben’s when they walked, pressing her thigh into his at the table and pulling his arm around her body. Running a hand through his hair before tugging his brow to hers when she crawled onto him in the dark. Holding Ben against her as the fire died out, letting him pull her back down until he was flat on his back and rubbing circles on her hips. Relaxing into his kisses on the top of her head and pressing her face into his neck as she fell back asleep.

Even now, sitting on the mat of the gym as they ate lunch with Ryan, she was touching Ben. She was leaning into his side as she sighed, watching Ryan carefully as she answered his question. Of course She’d know how to answer that question. She was fucking perfect.

“I do,” Her hand had wandered to Ben’s knee, tapping against him as she spoke. “Most of us do. I’d imagine it would be more worrying if we didn’t.”

Ryan blinked at her. “Worrying?“

“Well,” She frowned. “We’re exposed to a lot of fucked up situations. We make a lot of impossible, horrible decisions. Nightmares mean that we still care, that we’re still capable of remorse over our worse actions and haven’t given up on ourselves enough to just remain unaffected. We’re still able to feel something, even if that thing is fear.”

“But I don’t want to feel fear,” Ryan mumbled, still watching the ground. “I don’t want to be afraid of stuff anymore. My dad said that I shouldn’t be afraid of anything, that fear was a weakness.” 

“Ryan,” She leaned a little further forward. “Can you look at me?”

When he listened, slowly looking up with a nervous expression, a small, sad smile crossed Her face.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Um, I don’t know.” Ryan glanced at Ben, and even though he didn’t know what the fuck She was getting at—he rarely did—he gave Ryan a sharp nod. It seemed to say what the kid had been looking for, because Ryan swallowed and continued. “My dad?”

“Fear really fucking sucks,” she whispered, and Ben’s fists tightened on his cheesesteak. “But it’s not bad. It doesn’t make you weak. We all get afraid, it’s your brain trying to tell you that you and the people you care about are in danger. And Homelander is dangerous. It’s smart to be afraid of him, Ryan, because then you’re not like him.”

“But I’ve hurt people, what if I am-“ 

“Homelander,” Her nails were burning on Ben’s skin. “Isn’t afraid of anything. Because he thinks he’s above fear, because he doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Just the fact that you’re afraid of Homelander tells me you’re nothing like him.”

“Are, are you afraid of anything?”

She nodded, heart picking up in her chest, and Ben moved his hand silently to her waist. Pulling Her closer without looking away from Ryan, keeping his face perfectly fucking neutral when she squeezed his knee and her breathing slowed.

“Homelander.” She took a heavy breath. “And heights.”

Ben hadn’t known that. He made a mental note to look up if you could take a boat to Rome. 

Ryan nodded, looking at Ben with wide, nervous eyes. “Ben?” 

He grunted, taking another bite of his cheesesteak as he waited for Ryan to continue. 

“You don’t get afraid, right?” 

Ben froze mid-chew. He wasn’t afraid of anything, and—if he was—it wasn’t any of Ryan’s goddamn business. It wasn’t like fear ever fucking affected him, or made him whine like a pussy, made him fucking cry like Ryan was about to-

He looked at Her. Completely fucking involuntarily, Ben looked at her and knew he was afraid of that. Afraid he’d fail her again. And maybe also gas. And small, closed spaces. Not Homelander himself—that pussy could eat Ben’s shit—but Homelander hurting Her. Hurting her in a way that made Ben lose her, taking her away where Ben couldn’t get her back. But that was a fear for Her. It was a service to Her, to share some of the weight she kept trying to carry alone. And of course Ben would be afraid of failing Her, he’d done it once and it had put her in fucking danger, so that didn’t count. Gas didn’t count either, gas had taken Ben’s who goddamn life away from him, anyone would be afraid of gas if they had half a goddamn brain. Closed spaces were a little fucking pathetic, but Ben would like to see any other pussy be kept in a box for forty years and not start to fucking hate it. But none of that was shit for Ryan to be all fucking sad about-

Ben felt Her whack his arm, and looked down to find her glaring at him. Stop being a giant fucking manchild and tell Ryan you’re afraid of something.

Ben scowled, but swallowed his food and looked back to Ryan. “Everyone’s afraid of shit, kid. As long as you’re not a fucking pathetic dickless pussy about it, you won’t be any less of a fucking man.” 

Ryan nodded, something in his eyes a little lighter and a confusing fucking warm feeling inflating in Ben’s chest. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t fucking-“ 

Her hand flew up to cover Ben’s mouth, and when he shot her a glare she just wrinkled her nose. If you ruin this nice moment, Pretty Boy, I’ll stab you. 

Ben rolled his eyes, Shut the fuck up, and pulled Her hand away, kissing her knuckles before looking back to Ryan. “You done with that sandwich?”

“I’m, um, not really that hungry.“

“I’ll hold on to it for you, and you can put it in the fridge when you get home.” She pulled out from Ben’s side, reaching across the mat with her perfect fucking ass in the air to grab the rest of Ryan’s food. Ben couldn’t let himself stare at Her ass, or think about kicking Ryan out to fuck her into the floor, or sit with his legs crossed anymore. He had maybe a minute before he’d have to stand up, and he needed to get his shit together so he didn’t do it with a raging hard-on.

“You don’t have to-“

“If I don’t,” She leaned back into Ben, grinning at Ryan. “Grandpa will eat it when neither of us are looking. He’s like a dog, you can’t leave food out.” 

“I am not a fucking dog-“

She sat up on her knees, giving Ben the prettiest fucking fake-pout and kissing his cheek before pulling back with a smile. A wide, bright smile where there wasn’t any pain hidden in her perfect, sharp eyes, and all Ben could bring himself to do was glare at her.

Brat. 

Cunt. Go show Ryan how to punch stuff.

He kissed her once, soft and quick and so fucking simple—his hands in her hair and her body half on his lap—before pulling back to stand. Ryan scrambled up, following Ben silently to the far side of the mat, and She scooted back to the wall.

Over the week, they’d developed a habit of this shit. Ben trained Ryan for a few hours, while She sat off to the side and switched between watching them and working on the V leads. Then they’d eat lunch together, Ben and Ryan would go for another hour or so, and they’d walk Ryan back to Butcher before returning to their own apartment. It was a damn good routine, because Ryan was already a fuck ton better then when they’d started—he hit the target every time now, and had only crushed two metal plates on accident today—and She had used the time to build a fucking airtight case for the president to just give them some goddamn V.

She’d explained the whole thing to Ben twice. Once in their apartment and once during a meeting with the team. Ben didn’t remember any of the first time, because she’d looked so fucking hot—chewing her lip while she thought and glaring at the papers in front of her with sharp eyes—and he’d wanted to slam Her on top of those stupid papers and see if she could recite all that fucking smart shit with Ben buried deep inside her. He’d managed to remember the second one only because she’d said it was really important they all have a basic understanding of our argument, in case Singer decides to cold call. 

“The first half,” She’d frowned at the papers as she sorted through them at the dining hall table. “Is mostly evidence of Homelander as a genuine threat to American stability, security, democracy, and like, fucking everything else. I think-”

“If Singer ain’t total fuckin brainless cunt, we shouldn’t need to show our bloody work-“

“It’s precautionary, Butcher.” She’d snapped. “And if you’d let me fucking finish, I was going to say that we could all just use personal experience for it. The second half is the important stuff. Copies of the document that says this would work, a vague outline of a plan to get the V in Homelander, a list of all the other avenues we’ve exhausted to get some V-“

“He’s not going to know I gave you guys those leads, right?” A-Train had cut Her off with frantic words. “If these get leaked or some shit, it can’t be traced back to me-“

“No,” She’d shaken her head. “We’re not saying how we got them, because that’s not important. He just needs to know that we’ve looked elsewhere, and there isn’t time to waste on continuing on wild goose chases. I’ve added hypotheticals about what could happen if we don’t act soon-“

Ben loved Her so goddamn much. He’d stopped paying attention, because he was losing his fucking mind about how much he loved her. She was so beautiful, and smart, and if everyone would just shut the fuck up and stop asking Her stupid questions Ben could get fucking lost in how perfect she was.

He’d gotten a boner. He’d been watching her talk all fucking focused and intense and pretty, and she’d grinned and bumped his shoulder with hers about something Ben couldn’t even fucking remember anymore, and he had completely given up on paying attention so he could get lost in a fantasy of bending Her over the table and fucking her until she whined and her eyes rolled back in her head.

It was becoming a fucking problem, how everywhere Ben looked was just another place he wanted to fuck her on or against, and how every word she said made him want to tell Her he loved her. He’d thought about it before, while she was gone, it was somehow worse when she was home. When she kept doing things that made him love Her more. Ben kept thinking he’d finally hit fucking capacity on how much he loved her—that loving her so much he’d move mountains and crack open the sky was the greatest type of love anyone was fucking capable of—and then She’d prove him wrong. She couldn’t just let Ben exist in goddamn peace, she had to make him and Ryan lunch everyday. She had to keep encouraging Ryan, and teasing Ben about wanting encouragement right before she’d tell him she thought he was an excellent teacher, even if he wouldn’t stop swearing at the child. She had to keep singing to herself while she moved around the apartment, and making everything around her so much fucking better than it had been before. She had to finally stop fucking apologizing, and kept curling into Ben’s body like it was the most natural thing in the fucking world. And it all made Ben feel like a fucking dumbass, because he kept being wrong. There was no limit to how much he loved Her, and every single thing she did would always make him want to just fuck her until she was happy and felt good.

But Ben wasn’t allowing himself to fuck Her. Not when he’d touched Her once and she’d shattered. They’d reached a silent agreement to not talk about the gun range and to keep kissing but never do more. Ben’s hands would wander down to her hips and her heart would pick up, so he wouldn’t go further. She’d kiss him and run fingers over his abdomen, but the moment Ben tensed in anticipation she’d freeze and drag them back to his chest. They hadn’t talked about it, but Ben knew she’d say I’m fine, and he’d insist that she wasn’t—people who are fine don’t fucking wake up in the middle of the night on fire—and she’d insist she was. They’d fight, and Ben didn’t want to fight with her. Not about something that fucking mattered like this, not when she kept kissing and smiling at him before—barely an hour later—something would suddenly shift and Her eyes would grow more and more hollow. He loved Her, and if they had a fight he’d probably yell that he fucking loved her to make her understand why it was killing him to watch Her be in pain that he wasn’t allowed to fix, and he’d lose Her. She wasn’t ready, and if Ben made this about how he loved her he’d lose her. He wouldn’t say it right, or well. He didn’t know how to talk about his goddamn feelings without sounding like a pathetic fucking pussy. He’d fuck it up and She wouldn’t understand that he loved Her so fucking much it could carve into the earth, and he’d lose Her.

She still looked at him with adoration. She still touched Ben like she wanted him, and sighed his name like it was important. But that was all she could give him right now, and Ben had to force himself to find a way to be okay with it. To let Her break and break in front of him, to keep her safe and pick up her pieces off the tile floors, then just kiss her until she gave a soft, happy sigh. To not grab her face and tell her that he loved Her. That he was so fucking worried about her because he loved her, and that he’d keep waiting. He’d wait and wait forever until she wanted him again. He’d take whatever she’d give him. He fucking loved Her, loved her in a way that would kill any other goddamn asshole to feel because it was fucking primal. It was real, raw, painful and indestructible love. Love where Ben would never be able to show it enough, never be able really make Her fucking understand how powerfully and zealously he loved her.

He could imagine it. Ben could indulge himself in these stupid fucking fantasies and drive himself mad as a punishment for being too fucking weak to know how to fix this. For being so much of a fucking pussy that the woman he loved kept breaking down and he could barely make it better, Ben started torturing himself with all the ways he’d could get this fucking right.

He’d roll Her over in their bed and kiss her breathless, before telling her that he loved Her and she was beautiful. Then he’d fuck her, gentle and long and goddamn romantic as shit, and she’d moan his name.

She’d give him one of her perfect, secret smiles over dinner and he’d tell Her in silence. Her pretty mouth would fall open, and she’d make a lame excuse to pull Ben back home. The door would barely close before she’d tackle him to the floor and ride him until she fell against his chest.

They’d be at a meeting, and Ben would just fucking yell it over the table. He’d roar I fucking love you, Sunshine, and the whole team would leave because Ben would already have her half-naked and in his lap.

Fuck, even now as She walked a pace ahead of him—smiling down at Ryan as he rambled about fucking homework and listening like She actually gave a shit, because she probably did—Ben wanted to grab Her and fuck her. He didn’t even need a wall or a bed, he’d just pick her up, rip off her pants, and slam himself into her until she felt good. But she’d fucking fall apart again after, and the pain of watching that was unspeakably worse than the ache of never touching her again. 

But he would tell Her. Ben would keep fucking trying to make this better for Her, and when the shadows started to creep out of her eyes and Homelander could never fucking touch her again, Ben was going to fucking tell Her. He’d say Her name, and she’d look at him all pretty and concerned about if everything was okay, and he’d tell her. I love you. I love you so goddamn much, and it’s made me a pathetic fucking pussy, and I don’t give a fuck because I love you. You’re perfect and I love you. You’re my whole fucking world and I love you. I’ll wait for you to be ready for the rest of goddamn time, because I love you. 

And she’d smile at him and say- 

“Benjamin, if you don’t start walking I swear to god I’m going without you.” 

They’d dropped off Ryan. Ben had given him another awkward hug before Ryan had turned to Her and they’d hugged as well. Then she’d smiled at Ben over Ryan’s head, making all of his thoughts devolve into perfect. Beautiful, perfect woman. He loved Her so fucking much, and when he told her that he was going to blow her perfect fucking mind with how fucking romantic it was, and he’d stopped paying attention.

She was walking back in the direction of the gym, and Ben frowned. “Where the fuck-“

“Mallory called a meeting, and we’re already late-“ She stopped tugging at Ben’s arm, giving him a flat look. “You forgot.” 

He had forgotten. She’d told him when they’d sat down for lunch that they’d have to go straight to the dining hall after, because there were updates that apparently couldn’t just fucking wait for the daily briefing tomorrow morning. He’d nodded, taken his cheesesteak, and she’d kissed his cheek. That alone had melted his brain a little, but then she’d moved some hair out of his face and leaned against his side and Ben had started wondering if this would be it. If he lowered Her onto the gym mat and told her he loved her, it would work. If She’d pull him down to her mouth and let him kiss her until there was a dent on the floor, then mumble into his mouth that she loved him as well. That she understood, and if Ben wanted to fuck her when they got home she wouldn’t stop him. 

In reality She was still glaring at him outside of Butcher’s apartment—perfect arms crossed and pretty eyes narrowed—and Ben had to act indignant. If he didn’t, she’d ask a lot of fucking questions and he’d shut her up by walking her backwards into the wall, telling her he loved her, and kissing her fucking stupid. 

“Mallory calls a whole lot of fucking bullshit meeting, we don’t need to go to every single one-“

She snorted. “Yeah, we do. You just don’t want me to call you old.”

“I’m not fucking old. And I didn’t forget-“

“Ben.” She linked her arms through his, and Ben scowled at her goddamn beautiful face and bored, amused, perfect fucking voice. “You are very old. And we have to go to the meeting you forgot about, you fucking dinosaur.” 

“Most of these stupid meetings are completely goddamn pointless,” Ben grumbled, even as he let her pull him down the hall. “Mallory thinks every single thing needs a whole hour to go over, and it’s never any actual fucking progress-“

“It might be, though.” She shrugged, grinning over her shoulder. “And if there is news, Kimiko will bring out the ice cream to celebrate. Don’t want to miss that.”

“We have our own ice cream, Sunshine.” He tugged Her arm just enough for her to fall back a pace, walking at his side so Ben could rest his arm over her shoulder. Keep her right against him, where she was fucking safe and smiling and there weren’t shadows across her perfect features. “We can just go the fuck home if you want ice cream.”

“We don’t have sprinkles. I want sprinkles.”

“Those things taste like fucking wax-“

“They are wax, Pretty Boy. They’re sugar wax.” Her hands had risen to hold Ben’s over her body, and he had to fucking pay attention and not spin her around, dance with her in the hall and dip her down all fucking romantic before whispering that he loved her. “I just want some colorful fucking sugar wax to go with my boring, old man vanilla ice cream.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You fucking love my old man vanilla ice cream. You eat it just as much as me.”

He caught his own error, but she didn’t jump in with a smug voice and tell him as I. And when Ben frowned down at Her, she was watching him with that expression he didn’t understand. All adoration and want, with something burning behind her eyes, and her voice soft when she spoke. 

“I do love your old man vanilla ice cream.” Her smile spread, and her eyes looked a little brighter. “But I’d love it more with sprinkles.”

Ben snorted, and kissed the top of her head. “Brat.”

“Dramatic fucking cunt,” she mumbled, and Ben would have to figure out where to buy sprinkles now. There wasn’t a fucking chance in hell he was asking Mallory for that shit, but he’d figure it out and maybe it would help keep her expression light and joyful.

Everyone seemed to have finally fucking accepted that She and Ben would never be on time, because the most shit they got for being ten minutes late—again—was Mallory shooting Ben a glower and a collection of sighs when they entered the dining hall.

“Now that we’re all here,” Mallory’s words were cold, and Ben pulled Her a little further into his side on the bench. “Let’s get started. William?”

Butcher grinned around the table, a smug smirk on his face. “You cunts ready to hear the first good news you’ve gotten in a year?” 

“Good news?” Hughie frowned. “Did we find some V?”

“Guess again, lad.“

The French Prick leaned across the table. “Madame Sage has made an error?”

“Sage doesn’t make errors,” A-Train muttered. “It’s probably more about Vought, a lead or some shit.“

“Still ain’t it, mate. Anyone want to take a shot-“

“Butcher,” MM grunted, running a hand over his face. “Just fucking tell them, you asshole.”

“You really take all the bloody joy out of life, MM.” Butcher hands slid in his pockets, pretending not to see MM flip him off as he continued. “The one and only cunt in charge agreed to meet with us. Said he wants us in DC by tomorrow afternoon, gave us a fuckin travel fund and everything.” 

“In DC?” She narrowed her eyes at Butcher, and Ben felt her tense under his arm. “That’s a four hour drive away, and we can’t all go-“

“Most of you won’t be going,” Mallory snapped. “You and A-Train are at a security risk if you leave the compound, William has to stay with Ryan, and Campbell has some work to do.”

Hughie blinked. “I do?”

“Ah, that may be my fault petite Hughie.” Frenchie shrugged. “I requested that the A-Train provide access to Vought’s supe files. I will need your aid in retrieving them through the computers.” 

Hughie nodded slowly, looking back to Mallory. “Does that mean it’s just Annie and MM?”

“Blood good deduction, Lad, but you forgot about Soldier Boy.”

Everyone looked at Ben, and he froze as Her heartbeat picked up. “The fuck you mean he forgot.” 

“You’re goin’ on a field trip, Gov.” Butcher winked. “I’ll pack you some applesauce for the road, and make sure you take a piss before you get in the car.” 

She swallowed, glancing between Ben and Butcher, and her words were far too fucking soft. “How long will they be gone?” 

“About a day,” Annie sighed. “We’re leaving around 7am tomorrow, and after the meeting with Singer we’re going to have to wait for a transportation clearance, which probably won’t come until morning.”

“Transportation clearance?” Hughie gave Annie a confused look. “Can’t you just take Butcher’s car?”

“Nope.” MM shook his head. “Sage has got records of Butcher’s car. We’re taking an FBSA escort there, and a CIA escort back.”

“But,” She was still so fucking quiet. “Why will you have to wait for morning?”

“Route approval,” MM muttered. “Bunch of fucking security shit, and the motherfuckers at the CIA move slow. Annie’s right, it’ll probably take us a day to get there, do the meeting, and get back.”

“Why the fuck do I have to go,” Ben hissed. This was a fucking stupid idea, he didn’t need to be there. He didn’t need to be anywhere without Her, and he sure as hell wasn’t fucking leaving her. “I’m not going to be doing the actual damn pitch, and Singer can eat my fucking balls if he thinks I’m going to brownnose him to get the V-“ 

“He specifically requested your presence, Gov.” Butcher shrugged. “Didn’t say why, but I’m sure it’s your sparkling fuckin personality.” 

“Shut the fuck up you pussy, I’m not going anywhere-“ 

“Was it a condition?” She was looking between Butcher and MM, fingers tapping on the table. “Did Singer request Ben, or demand him?”

MM sighed. “Demand. We don’t bring Soldier Boy, they won’t let us in the door.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “You’ve got all the information for the pitch?”

Annie and MM started rattling off all the details She’d given them about the V, and her face was so fucking tired. She wasn’t looking at Ben, but her body was all but falling into his, her eyes were far away, and her breathing was fucking mechanical again.

He squeezed her shoulder, glaring down at Her until she glanced at him. I am not fucking going to DC. 

Yes. You are. She gave him a small, empty smile. You have to, Ben. Please. 

He shook his head. No. I am not fucking leaving you for a day just because Singer’s a fucking pussy who thinks he can make demands.

I’ll be okay, She pressed her knee to Ben’s, and he didn’t fucking believe her. It’s only a day, Pretty Boy. I’ll survive. 

She would survive. She was strong as fucking hell, and she’d survive one goddamn day without Ben. It was him that wouldn’t make it one hour away without going fucking sick with worry that she was in danger, or alone, or breaking and he wasn’t there to help. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not fucking leaving. 

If you don’t, we won’t get the V. She sighed. We have phones, Pretty Boy. You can text me, and I’m not going anywhere.

Ben scowled. Swear that if you need me home you’ll tell me.

She was giving him that look again. There was something fucking confused behind her gaze, like she hadn’t understood his words. But She nodded, Promise, and turned back to the table.

Ben was going to have to go. He had not fucking interest in going, but She was asking him to, so he would. This could get them a step closer to killing Homelander—to making Her fucking safe and Ben being able to say he loved her—so he would. He spent the rest of the meeting glowering at everyone and holding Her tighter, making sure she knew he was in no way a fucking fan of this bullshit, but didn’t keep arguing.

It would be fine. He’d survive one fucking day without Her. She’d be home and safe, and he wasn’t so fucking pathetic that he’d whine and moan like a pussy without her there. Then he’d come home and kiss Her, and beat Homelander’s fucking brains in, and find them the next boat to Rome.

After the meeting, they ate dinner with the team. It was tense, with everyone a little quieter than usual and focused mostly on their food, so Ben watched Her. He’d already memorized every single fucking thing about Her, but he never got tired of just watching her. She was so fucking beautiful, smiling at Ryan when he arrived, resting her head on Ben’s shoulder when she finished eating, signing with Kimiko about something that made her giggle—light and joyful, the best fucking sound in the world—and looking up at Ben when Kimiko turned back to Hughie.

Are you ready to go?

Ben had been ready to go for a damn hour, and he didn’t waste another fucking second before nodding, pulling Her up with him, and turning to the door.

She made a small sound of surprise, and Ben waited for her to be all fucking kind and polite—bidding the team goodnight and hugging Ryan—before tugging her back to his side and out into the hall. 

“Are you okay?”

He frowned down at Her as they walked back to their apartment. “What.” 

“I know you don’t want to go to DC, but-“ 

“I’ll fucking manage,” he grunted. He wouldn’t, this was going to be fucking horrible, but She didn’t need more shit to worry about. “And you’ll text me.” 

“I will,” she mumbled, pressing Her face into Ben’s side and letting him guide their steps. “Thank you for doing this.” 

Ben sighed. “Don’t.” It’s for you, Sunshine. I’d fucking do anything for you.

“But I am,” he could feel Her smile into his side. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t push it. She was smiling, and he fucking loved Her, so Ben just opened the door to their apartment and sighed. “TV?”

She nodded, playing with the fabric of his shirt as they sat on the couch. “Your night to pick, Pretty Boy. Can I guess?”

“You’re fucking going to anyway-“

“It’s either the documentary about the Cuban Missile Crisis we didn’t finish, or the baseball game that’s on tonight.” 

Ben frowned. “How the hell do you know about the game?”

“I pay attention,” she smiled up at him, and he was going to fucking explode. “I like to know if I’ll be spending the night listening to you lose your fucking mind over some balls.”

“They’re not just some balls, Sunshine, it’s a staple of fucking America-“

“With balls.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No,” she reached for the remote, passing it to him with a grin. “And, for the record, my personal vote is for the game. It’s Red Sox versus Phillies, and I want to see you cry when Boston beats your ass.”

Ben snorted, and flipped through channels until he landed on the game. “Brat.”

“Cunt,” She wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest. “I,” she sighed. “I adore you, Benjamin.” 

“I adore you too,” he muttered Her name, and she gave a small, content sound, relaxing further into his body. “You’re okay.” 

She hummed, looking backwards with that strange fucking warmth in her eyes. “I’m okay.”

Ben kissed Her, soft and easy, and didn’t believe a goddamn word she was saying. They did this every fucking night, and he knew how it would end. He’d spend the whole time swallowing shouts of I love you, and she’d almost fall asleep against him. So fucking beautiful, so fucking tired, and Ben would keep trying to figure out how to just fix this shit. To find something he could say to Her that would make her tell him how to make this better. He couldn’t touch Her, she’d break. He couldn’t tell Her he loved her, this wasn’t about him. But She had to be happy, and Ben wasn’t going to fucking rest until he figured out how to make her totally and completely happy.

Here, in the glow of the TV, was a place she was happy. With Ben holding Her tight and tracing patterns on her skin, her face was peaceful and her heart was steady. He was pretty fucking sure she’d been happy, in the gun range. But then She’d broken, and Ben was never going to allow it to get any worse. She was still happy, most of the time, but she wasn’t touching him. Wasn’t trying to take more.

So he’d keep waiting until he got his fucking act together and figured out a way to tell her properly, or until She told him to touch her again. Until Ben knew how to make the happiness stay, and stop it from fleeing in the dark.

Ben felt a tug on his hand, and looked down to see her turning his fingers between her own, not meeting his eyes as she spoke. “Can you-“

He didn’t wait for Her to finish. She was quiet and nervous, and she looked so fucking exhausted, and the stupid game didn’t matter even a fraction as much as she did. Ben knew what she was asking, so he picked her up and carried her upstairs to the bathroom.

She was still crying in the shower. Steam would choke the room as she turned the water up to boil—She’d refused to let Ben fix the ceiling fan, so now the whole apartment grew humid every night—and Ben had been forced to hear Her heart race, hear the quiet, choking sobs shake her body, before he’d break into the bathroom and could hold Her until she was breathing again. After three nights in a row, he’d just started showering with her. Every night Ben set her down on the bathroom floor, stripped his clothes, and pulled her carefully with him into the water. She didn’t cry when they did it like this. When Ben stood a step back while she used all her fucking hair shit, and held Her against his bare chest when she looked at him with a silent plea to do so. When she was done, he helped dry her off, then carried her to bed. Set Her down carefully, go back to the bathroom to brush his teeth—keeping an ear on her heart as she shuffled around the room—and climb into bed himself. Nothing more. Not until She was ready, and Ben couldn’t break her by touching her.

He’d developed a daydream. Ben loved Her so fucking much he’d started to fantasize, late in the night when she was content and peaceful against him—before the fire and screaming began—about if she did love him. About a perfect world where She blinked her eyes open, sat up on Ben’s chest, and smiled down at him as she held his face and played with the hair of his beard. Where she leaned down and kissed him gently, murmured that she loved him, that she was Ben’s the same way he was Her’s, and he believed Her. He looked at the joy on her face, believed that she was okay, and did everything. He’d do everything for her, to her, with her. Everything she asked or needed or wanted, Ben would do.

In the daydream, it was what Ben wanted as well. In his head he’d grin at Her, flip her on her back, and take control. Make her feel so fucking good, make her moan and writhe under him, give Her one place in her life where she didn’t have to do any work. Then they’d kill Homelander together—maybe he’d just fucking drop dead the next morning—and leave this stupid fucking life forever. He’d carry Her to Rome, and buy her a house with the money they earned from her excellent fucking escort business, and fuck her on every surface available to him. He’d tell Her he loved her every other sentence, and she’d smile at him, and Ben would ask Her to marry him. He’d just walk into the room, grab her and say I love you, Sunshine, and you should marry me. I’ll fucking treat you like a Queen, because you’re perfect and I love you. She’d giggle, and tell him that he already did treat her like a queen—because he would, no matter what Ben’s whole life after this was going to be about fucking her like she deserved and making her happy—but still agree to marry him. They wouldn’t bother with the fucking dramatics of a wedding, it would be quick fucking work with the most goddamn romanic vows in history and then a kiss that quickly turned into Ben fucking his wife stupid. He’d make sure she smiled all the goddamn time, and then—at least in the fantasy—he’d fuck her full of babies. Homelander would be dead—fucking burned or dumped in the ocean or buried a thousand feet under—and She’d tell Ben she trusted him and loved him and wanted a family with him, so he’d give her that.

It would have to wait until after Homelander was dead. Ben knew Her, he knew she’d need a little more time to be ready for that, but—in this perfect world—she one day would be. In this perfect world She’d never be afraid again, and she’d cry about whatever normal people cried about, and Ben would make her feel safe enough to have a family. Ryan would visit them, that was obvious. Annie, Hughie, Kimiko, and MM would as well, because that would make Her feel even more loved. Even Butcher had somehow worked himself into this, and was at occasional dinners when they went back to New York to visit Violet. The only people that wouldn’t be allowed near them were Mallory and her mother.

It would be fucking perfect. She’d wake up next to him, and he’d surround Her with evidence of his love for her. He’d kiss her at every chance, and tell her he loved her wherever he could work it into the conversation. He’d let her boss him around all fucking day, and the moment the door closed behind them at night Ben would lock it and drag her into their bed. He’d fuck Her stupid, and she’d give him a blissful, happy smile, and that would be their whole fucking lives. Happy. Just fucking happy.

The most Ben indulged in these thoughts was when She was truly, fully passed out. When Her breathing was slow and her heartbeat was even, Ben would tell her in the dark. When he was certain she couldn’t hear, Ben would mutter to her all the ways he’d make her happy. How much he loved her, how she was so fucking beautiful and perfect and he’d never stop waiting for Her, because if there was even a goddamn chance his stupid fucking fantasy could be real he’d take it. She was worth waiting for. Ben loved Her, and one day he’d figure out how to make himself worthy of being loved by Her. 

It’s how he spent every night now. Waiting for when she woke up in flames again, holding Her until she fell back under, and tracing his hands over her face until it was peaceful and all the tears were wiped away. Usually he’d fall asleep himself, savoring in the feel of Her body against his and the sound of her heartbeat, but tonight he couldn’t. Tonight all he managed to do was fucking watch Her in his arms, and try not to think about how he wouldn’t be at her side tomorrow night.

Then, as light began to leak through the windows, Ben’s phone rang.

It was an unknown number. She’d told him not to answer those, because if it’s not spam they’ll leave a voicemail, and if it is spam you’ll be telling them you’re an active number and you’ll get more calls. He didn’t fucking understand what that meant—She’d definitely tried to explain, and Ben had definitely gotten distracted by how her tits squished together when she crossed her arms—but She was always right about this shit, so Ben ignored it.

Barely thirty seconds passed before it rang again. Ben flipped the screen over, because there wasn’t a fucking chance in hell he was letting this wake Her up.

It rang a third time. And fourth. By the fifth, Ben was going to fucking smash his phone.

He couldn’t smash his phone. He was leaving in the morning, and if he smashed his phone he wouldn’t be able to text her.

On the sixth, Ben scooted carefully to sit against the headboard, made sure she was still comfortably asleep with Her head in his lap, and picked up the goddamn call.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” he hissed, keeping a careful ear on her heartbeat against him. “But if you call me one more time I’ll fine you, cut off your fingers, and shove them up your fucking asshole.” 

“Charming as always, Soldier Boy.” Stan Edgar's voice was clipped and bored, barely muffled by the static of the receiver. “But I don’t believe that’s a way to talk to an old friend.”

Ben froze, and the glass of the screen cracked in his grip. “How the fuck did you get my number.”

“I have my methods, but you shouldn’t concern yourself with them. I’d imagine you have bigger things to worry about.”

Ben glanced down at Her, daylight starting to dance across her face. He didn’t have time to entertain Edgar’s weird, underhanded fucking bullshit. “If you know I have other shit to worry about, why the fuck are you calling me.”

“I’d like to catch up. Surely, even within the chaos, you have enough time to pay me a visit.”

“I’m good. Too long a drive just to talk to an old fucking asshole.”

“As far as I recall,” Edgar hummed. “I am forty years your junior. And it is not only you I wish to see, so it is not your call alone to make.”

“If you don’t stop speaking in cryptic fucking bullshit-“

Edgar said Her name, and Ben's heart stopped. For a split second there was a ringing sound in his ears, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. He missed the rest of Edgars sentence.

There was a second of silence on the phone, and Edgar cleared his throat. 

“Do you care to respond-“

“You’re not getting anywhere fucking near her,” Ben’s had, unconsciously, pulled Her closer. “I don’t care about our deal, she’s staying the fuck out of it.”

“Luckily, this is not within the confines of our deal. It is simply a request for some company, along with an invitation for a plus one.”

“I know how you fucking work shit, Edgar,” Ben watched Her shift slightly, and lowered his voice. “You can shove your request right up your tiny fucking dickhole, and swallow your own fucking cum when you beat your meat to get it back.”

Edgar chuckled. “I always forget how… poetic you are, Benjamin. In a better life, you were a mediocre reality television writer.”

“Call me Benjamin again, and I’ll drive upstate just to cut out your fucking tongue.” Nobody but Her was allowed to call him Benjamin. She always said it with some sort of unyielding care, no matter how angry her tone was. She said it right, in a way Ben hadn’t known was the correct way to say it until she’d grinned at him and said Benjamin, I give a shit about you. I adore you. I want you. Edgar said it like he was scolding a fucking child. Ben wasn’t a fucking child.

Edgar might have some sort of fucking chip in Ben’s brain, because his next words were amused, confident, and exactly what Ben had been thinking about. “Ah, I’d imagine that strikes a certain nerve, given the nature of your relationship with the only other person who addresses you as such.”

“You watch your fucking mouth-“

“It amuses me how oblivious you have grown to be. It may be the old age, but you have become downright unobservant.”

Ben scowled, and She rolled over against him, burying her face in his stomach. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re implying, Edgar, but if you called just to make pussy fucking request, then my answer is no and we’re done.”

“Is she with you?”

She hummed against Ben’s body, and he ran his free hand through her hair. “No.”

“I am afraid that I don’t believe you.” 

“Then that’s real fucking shitty for you-“

“Ben.”

He froze, and looked down to find Her rubbing her eyes open, a fucking adorable frown on her face as she watched him. He didn’t know how to mute the call, so Ben held the phone high above his head and lowered his voice to hardly fucking audible. “Go back to sleep, Sunshine.”

She shook her head, slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Early. Lie the hell down-“

“Who are you talking to?”

“We’re fucking talking-“

She gave him a flat look. “On the phone.”

He could lie. He could say it was Annie or Hughie or Ryan or Butcher, but she wouldn’t believe him—none of them called Ben, and only Ryan really texted him—and Ben had hit a very fucking annoying point where he was physically incapable of lying to Her. “Edgar. Go to bed.”

All the lingering sleep vanished from her eyes in a second, growing sharp in a way that would turn Ben on if this wasn’t so serious. “Why the fuck is Edgar calling you.”

“I’ll tell you in the morning-“

“Tell me now.”

He glared at Her. “You need rest-“

“Benjamin,” She hissed. “I am not going to get any rest while I know Stan Edgar is on the phone. Not when you still fucking owe him. Tell me what he wants, or I’ll grab the phone and ask him myself.”

“You can listen, and I’ll tell you-“ She started half climbing up Ben’s chest to try and grab the phone, and he snorted. “Fucking Christ woman, you know I could just sit on you and you’d have to wait.”

“You won’t though,” She muttered, trying to drag Ben’s arm down to where she could reach his hand. “Pussy.”

This was serious. This was really fucking serious, because Edgar was a genuine threat and now wanted Ben to walk Her right into his fucking lair. This was goddamn serious, because Ben wasn’t going to allow his shitty fucking decisions and deals that he’d made to protect Her in the first place put her in harms way.

It was incredibly fucking serious, and Ben need to get his head out of the gutter about how her hips were wiggling on his chest and her angry Benjamin, I’m going to kick your ass face was still beautiful. He needed to stop thinking about how she was the most amazing person he’d ever met, and about how much he loved Her, because it was making him fucking pathetic.

“If I give you the damn phone,” Ben grunted, and she paused to look down at him. “You have to put it on that speaker shit and calm the hell down.”

She nodded quickly, reaching her hand down to his eye level. “Deal.”

He was supposed to shake Her hand. She wanted Ben to shake her hand. But he was using one hand to hold the phone, and his other hand had developed a mind that was governed by Ben’s impulse of love Her, touch Her, take care of Her, and had wandered up to hold her steady on her waist. She hadn’t tried to move it—she was fucking leaning back into it—so there wasn’t a chance in fucking hell Ben was taking it away himself.

Ben handed her the phone, and tried not to act too fucking in love with Her as she slid down his body, holding his gaze the whole time. She hit a button on the screen, gave him a look that said you’re learning how to do this yourself later, Pretty Boy, and took a deep breath before she spoke.

“Edgar, why the fuck are you calling us at,” She glanced down at the phone. “6am?”

“So you are here,” Edgar’s voice was delighted. Ben wanted to smash the phone. “How delightful to speak to you again, it truly has been far too long.”

“And here I was, going to ask you to never fucking speak to me again.” She drawled. “I don’t think our relationship is as serious as you thought it was.”

“I’m wounded,” Edgar said Her name, and it sounded fucking wrong. “I thought we had a connection.”

“If by connection you mean you made me fight a bunch of man-eating sheep and I didn’t manage to kill you and make it look like an accident, then yeah. Sure.”

“Ouch,” Edgar chuckled. “I’d think you have much to thank me for. Would you have ever woken up our dear Benjamin without my advice?” 

Ben could see the flash of anger in Her eyes. Whatever careful game she’d been playing with Edgar ended, even as her tone remained bored. “I like to think I’d gotten there myself eventually. Tell me why you’re calling.”

“As I was telling your companion, I’m inviting you both to lunch.”

She looked up at Ben with a frown. Lunch? 

Pussy didn’t mention lunch. Said he wanted us to visit, and I wasn’t promised any fucking food.

Her nose wrinkled, you are shockingly literal sometimes, Pretty Boy, and her attention turned back to the phone. “Is this an invitation to lunch, or a you owe me lunch.”

There was a brief second of silence before Edgar answered. “Interesting. I didn’t expect you to be aware of our little arrangement.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

Edgar sighed through the speaker. “It is an invitation. There will be talk of the favor, but I’ve grown lonely. I think I’d enjoy the company.”

Ben scowled. “You can shove your company up your fucking ass-“

“Edgar,” She cut him off with a glare, and her voice was softer than Ben’s as she spoke, words slow and her brow drawn. “If you already have a favor picked out, why should we entertain you? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just tell us?”

She kept saying us. She kept talking about Ben as one with her, and if she didn’t stop soon he’d tell her he loved her right fucking now, with Edgar still on the phone.

“You are a truly phenomenal woman,” Edgar said Her name again, and Ben’s skin started to crawl. “There is not much that escapes you. I understand how Soldier Boy became so taken with you.”

“Yeah, I’m a real marvel of humanity.” Ben didn’t fucking love the way she said that, dry and monotone, like she fucking wasn’t. “Tell us what you want, Edgar.”

“Well, it helps if you think of this as a karmic act. If you are truly set on not making the short drive to speak in person, then I’ll cash in my IOU and that will be all. If you can find it in your heart and schedule to visit a lonely old man, then I might find myself in a better mood.” 

She frowned. “A better mood? You want to be a little less of a cryptic bridge troll and a little more of a normal person?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to see me in person to see the extent of my generosity.” 

“You can keep your fucking riddles in the dark, pathetic fucking hole you crawled out of-“

“Can we have a few days?”

Ben stared at Her. What the fuck are you doing.

We need to run this past the team.

We don’t need to run fucking shit past them, because we’re not going.

She sighed. I think we should. He can’t hurt us, and he knows a lot. Whatever generosity he’s talking about might help us.

“I can wait a day or two, if it would aid you in coming to the correct conclusion-“

“Great,” She cut Edgar off. “Mallory will call you. Don’t call us again.” She paused, glaring at the phone. “Bitch.” And hung up.

“There’s not a chance in fucking hell-“

“Please think about it.” She dropped his phone, holding his face between her hands. “We can wait to talk to everyone about it until after you get back home. Just really think about it.”

His answer was no. There was not a single universe where Ben was going to agree to put Her in danger like that. For something so fucking pointless, when she couldn’t fucking sleep through the night without losing her goddamn mind. The more he thought about it the more Ben was certain that this was simple fucking no. He would deal with this himself, and she’d stay far, far the fuck away from its line of fire.

But She was so pretty. She was watching him with a sharp gaze, and there was hair across her eyes that Ben wanted to move away, and her hands on his cheeks and jaw were warm. They fit fucking perfectly on his face, because She fit fucking perfectly against every part of him. Ben loved Her, and it was really making him a goddamn pushover. But it was worth it. It was really fucking worth it, because when he grunted and gave her a small nod, Her whole face lit up and she leaned in to give him one, soft, gentle kiss.

Ben was tired. Later, when he knew he was going to have to justify this to himself, he was going to remind himself over and over that he was tired. He’d been up all night worrying about Her, and so nobody could say a fucking word about it because all his resolve had been poured into care for Her, and his decsion making had been bound to take a hit. Ben was fucking exhausted, and that’s why when She squirmed slightly on his lap and teased her tongue along his lips, Ben let his control snap and flipped her over.

They’d made out since the gun range. They never stopped making out, and Ben was pretty sure that—if work and food and breathing and all that other pointless shit weren’t obstacles—he’d been happy spending the rest of goddamn time making out with Her. Pulling her up to his side on the couch, leaning over her in the hall, tugging her between his legs at the table.

This wasn’t making out. This was fucking eating each other. Ben was bruising Her mouth, biting her lips and running his tongue along her teeth, letting how her hands clawed at his back and pulled at his hair spur him on. Letting himself push her deeper into the mattress, using a free hand to grab and squeeze her ass as she wrapped her legs around his torso. She made a high, whining sound that sent something electric through Ben’s blood, so he did it again and let himself groan when she started to grind up into him. His knee ended up shoved between her legs, and when her head threw back Ben trailed his mouth across her cheek and down her neck, leaving wet open kisses and dropping his hips onto hers in an attempt to not rut against Her. It was all mindless and hungry and so fucking natural. This was where Ben was supposed to be. Above Her, against her, touching her and caring for her and taking every moan in his ear as fucking testament to how this was love. He fucking loved Her, and there was even the tiniest goddamn chance she’d love him back he’d stay right fucking here.

He stopped because he had to. Because if he kept going and She kept making perfect, musical sounds, he’d tell Her. Ben had already risen back up to her face, letting her pull his tongue between her teeth and growling into her mouth, only a second away from just telling her. From muttering I fucking love you down her throat and letting her swallow the words with another whimper. So Ben had to pull away, let her heavy breath trade with his, and just fucking pull himself together. Ignore his less than helpful dick and heart trying to control his body and only hold her gently. Trace soft, light hands over the parts of her body he was allowed to touch, and tell her he loved her like that. 

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper, and when he opened his eyes hers were still closed. Her mouth was parted and swollen—he’d fucking done that, it was evidence of how much he fucking adored her—and her hands had stilled in his hair. She was so fucking beautiful, with the morning light on her face and her whole body relaxed, it might drive Ben insane. “I,” She took a long, unsteady breath. “I really, really adore you.”

He kissed Her again, and a long sound of content hummed from her chest. Ben moved up, kissing along the bridge of her nose, between her eyes, and on her brow. “I know,” he grunted against her skin. “MM and Annie will be able to handle Singer their fucking selves, it’s not like anyone’s going to like what I have to say-“

“Please don’t tell Singer to eat his balls or suck your dick.” Her voice was bored, but when she looked up at Ben there was a light behind her eyes that made his whole body relax. “It’s not very diplomatic.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about diplomacy,” he muttered. “If Singer wasn’t such a fucking uptight pussy he’d just take our fucking word and give us the V.” 

“And you can tell him that after we get the V. Until then you’re going to have to pretend to not want to kill him.” She paused, voice growing soft. “Please, Ben. Just try.” 

He sighed, searching Her face for any excuse. Anything that he could point to and say here’s why I should fucking stay. Here’s a goddamn solid reason that I don’t have to fucking leave you. Something you won’t be able to argue with me about, something you won’t even try to argue with me about.

There was only one. And Ben wasn’t allowed to say it. He had to swallow his only plea of let me fucking stay and care for and love you because I’m going to go fucking mad with worry, because you’re not okay and I can’t help but fuck me if I’m not going to try and nod. He had to sit in the silence, still touching her, always touching her, and keep himself from giving more. Then he had to fucking stand up, and get ready. She made him shower—Ben made her keep the door open—and when he exited the bathroom she pushed past him with a large plastic bag in her hands.

“What the fuck are you-“ 

“You need toiletries,” She didn’t look over to Ben, still in the door, as she gathered his toothbrush and shampoo into the bag. “And I’m not letting you anywhere near hotel hair products.” 

Ben turned to look back at the bed with a frown, and there was an open suitcase on the mattress full of half-folded clothing and his supe suit, a shirt and pair of pants set out for Ben to change into. When she came up to Ben's side, her voice was nervous. “I, um, you’re not good at packing. So-“

He grinned down at Her, reaching up to grab her chin and kiss her once, sweet and easy and fuck she felt perfect against him. One of Her hands reached up to grab Ben’s wrist and keep him there, and her feet shuffled to bring her further against him, tucking into his side. When Ben pulled back her eyes were wide, and there was a little of Ben’s saliva still on her lip. When his thumb moved to swipe it away, her heartbeat stuttered slightly, and Ben loved her.

“Where the fuck did you get a suitcase from?” 

“My ass.”

 He snorted, and a smile started to cross Her mouth. “Brat.” 

“Cunt.” 

Ben leaned down, careful not to drop his towel from around his waist as his hand moved to hold the back of her head. “Thank you, beautiful.”

“I couldn’t get your shield in there,” she whispered. “Why the fuck is it so heavy.” 

He chuckled. “That’s kind of the damn point. And I can just fucking carry it, I think I’ll fucking live.” 

She nodded slowly, gaze dropping down to Ben’s bare chest, and he felt his hand tense against her. She was fucking gaping at him, and her heart was getting faster, and fuck if she kept looking Ben with all that thirst and want he wouldn’t make it out the door- 

“You should, uh, get dressed.” Her voice was breathless, and her grip on Ben’s wrist was growing tight. “You need to go soon.” 

Ben kissed her nose, and stood up. He changed as she finished packing and put on the coffee—Ben ended up with a travel mug shoved into his hand—and they walked to the elevator with Her leaning into his side and Ben’s free arm over her shoulders.

They weren’t getting a send off. MM was waiting against the wall, flipping through a binder of Her plan with a backpack at his side, and Annie was nowhere in sight.

MM looked up when they stopped in the hall, giving Ben a short nod before turning to Her. “We’ll text you after the meeting. Shoot me a message if you need to add anything to this.” He tapped the binder, and she nodded.

“Where’s Annie-“

“Downstairs with transport. I was just waiting for Soldier Boy’s slow ass so we can get moving.”

Ben scowled. “It’s 7:55, we’re not even fucking late-“

“Doesn’t change that you’re the last motherfucker here.” MM shrugged, glancing back Her and saying her name a lot fucking nicer than he ever said Soldier Boy. “I can give you a minute, if you want-“

“Yes, please.” She moved in front of Ben, watching him carefully as she spoke. “Ready?” 

“No.”

“Ben, please-“

“I’ll do this, but I’m not going to pretend I fucking want to-“ Ben cut himself off as she wrapped her arms around his torso, squeezing him with her face pressed against his body. Ben’s arms flew up without a thought, holding Her as close as he could, and he sat in the sound of her heartbeat.

“I’ll miss you,” She mumbled into his chest. “Be safe.”

“I haven’t left yet, I can still fucking stay-“ 

“No,” she sighed. “You can’t. But you’ll be home soon, and I’ll be here.”

“You’ll be here.” Ben was repeating it to remind himself. To make his body fucking listen to him, and use his goddamn sense to know that she’d be right fucking here when he got home. Still safe. Ben being gone for one fucking day wouldn’t put her in danger, she was a whole lot stronger than that. “Text me.” 

She smiled against him. “You know how to text, grandpa?”

“If I don’t, you have no one to blame but your damn self, Sunshine.” Ben pulled back to look at Her, and his breath hitched a little when she smiled up at him. “I think I’ll fucking figure it out.”

“If not, you can always use text to speech-“

“He is not allowed to use text to speech,” MM snapped, having suddenly fucking appeared beside Ben. “I do not want to hear whatever horny shit this motherfucker is going to text you.”

Ben scowled. “I don’t even know what text to speech fucking is-“ 

“And you’re not going to learn.” MM glanced at Her. “We’ve got to go.” 

She swallowed, and looked back to Ben. “Don’t kill Singer. Maybe yell at him a little, but don’t kill him. Try not to kill anyone, but if you have to don’t make a mess. I put a playlist on your phone for the drive, but if you get bored you can text me because I’m probably not going to do anything all day. Stick to my pitch, and stay safe, and be careful about what you say because I don’t really trust anyone but us. And come home, Ben, please come home as soon as you can-“

He kissed Her, long and gentle and careful, because he was starting to worry she might make herself pass out or get the bright fucking idea to come with them. “Your faith in me,” he muttered Her name, running a thumb over her cheekbone. “Is fucking astounding.”

“I do have faith in you, I’m just nervous, we need this-“ 

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m going to get the V, because we need it, and then I’ll fucking walk back to Jersey if I have to. I’d be faster than the damn car anyway.” 

“Don’t do that,” She mumbled. “I don’t want to have to clean highway shit off your clothes.” 

Ben snorted, and she smiled up at him. So fucking perfect.

I love you. Ben put it all over his face. He allowed all his adoration and affection and care for Her into his eyes, let his jaw relax and his mouth smile just enough to tell her. I fucking love you, Sunshine, and I’ll always come back. Nothing anyone does to me will ever make you lose me, because I’ll crawl out of any fucking hole or cave or lab or prison to get home to you. I love you. 

She didn’t understand, because she was blinking wordlessly at him, but this was better than just fucking leaving. Ben kissed the top of her head, and—because he was fucking pathetic and wasn’t masochistic enough to resist it—brushed his lips against hers. He smiled down at Her in one last, desperate fucking bid to make her understand, and used all the fucking strength he had to pull away and follow MM into the elevator.

They weren’t taking the Pussy Mobile, because it had finally fucking kicked it after the Believe Expo and was rotting away in a government junkyard like it fucking deserved. Instead, Mallory had stuffed Annie, Ben, and MM into a goddamn minivan. Agent No-Gun was standing next to Annie when Ben and MM arrived in the garage, and was saying bunch of shit about routes and safety that Ben didn’t fucking hear, because he was throwing his shield suitcase in the back and climbing into the van. There wasn’t a goddamn chance he was going to be stuck in a middle seat, listening to Annie sigh or MM fucking fidget for the four hour ride. 

To his surprise, nobody tried to stop Ben as he spread out across the back row. MM just glared at him and sat in the middle with a frown, and Annie gave him a small smile, leaning over her seat as Agent No-Gun turned on the engine. 

Annie started to say a bunch of shit Ben didn’t hear—he was focused on his phone, trying to remember what the fuck a playlist was and how to access it—before mentioning Her name and making him look up with a frown.

“What the fuck are you saying?” 

“Is she okay?” Annie sighed, watching Ben carefully. “She’s been a little, um, weird the past week. I’m not sure if the media is still getting to her, or something else that she doesn’t want to tell us about-“ 

“She’ll be okay,” Ben snapped. She wasn’t okay, but she would be. It might take a whole fucking lifetime, but Ben would stand with her the whole way. And he might not actively think of Annie as an annoying, whiny fucking bitch anymore, but she still didn’t get to know about the gun range, or the showers, or the nightmares. If She hadn’t told Annie about that shit, then Ben wouldn’t. His loyalty was with Her, and not a single goddamn place else. “I’m taking care of her.”

Annie’s voice was shockingly gentle. “I don’t think you’re not, Soldier Boy. I just wanted to know if I could help.” 

Ben paused, narrowing his eyes at her. MM was still silent in his seat, and they had begun to pull out of the garage, but Annie’s eyes weren’t moving from Ben’s. Her heart was only a little above where it might usually be, and her face was genuine, so Ben grunted, “how the fuck would you help.”

Annie shrugged. “I’m asking you for a reason. You know her better than I do, I mean, you’re in love with her-“

MM slapped Annie on the shoulder, and her mouth snapped closed.

“How the fuck did you know that.” Ben hissed, body growing rigid. “I haven’t fucking told anyone-“ 

“Oh, you’re,” Annie blinked at him. “Sorry, I just thought you’d deny it.” 

“How the fucking hell did you know-“ 

“It’s kind of obvious-“

“Annie,” MM grunted, glancing back at Ben. “We all fucking agreed-“

“The fuck are you talking about, you all agreed.” Ben paused, looking between Annie and MM’s tight expressions. “Who else fucking knows.”

“Hughie, Butcher-“

“Annie-“

“Come on.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to be stuck in the car with him for four hours without answering his questions?”

MM scowled, but fell silent as Annie continued.

“Frenchie, Kimiko, and A-Train-“

“Fucking A-train-“

“He asked us what the hell was going on between you two.” MM muttered, shooting Annie a harsh look that made her sigh and nod. “And we told him.” 

“Mallory doesn’t know,” Annie added. “But I think she’s guessed.” 

Ben glared between them. “How.”

“You aren’t exactly subtle, asshole.” MM gave Ben another look he didn’t fucking understand. “We’d have to be fucking deaf and blind to miss it.” 

“We kind of all put it together separately,” Annie’s face was weary, watching Ben like he might start ripping their heads off their bodies. It wasn’t a totally unfounded fear, not if they kept their observant shit up. “For me it was the meeting with Edgar. Hughie said he got it after Neuman.”

Ben’s head whipped to MM. “What the fuck told you.”

MM ran a hand over his face, still glaring at Ben. “When you made her call her sister.”

All that shit was fucking months ago. A goddamn lifetime had passed since all of it, and Ben had only figured it out himself after the Believe Expo. They said it was obvious, but She hadn’t seemed to get whatever memo that every other fucker on their team had. She’d have brought it up, She’d had talked to him about, because subtlety wasn’t exactly her greatest strength. She’d have told Ben if she knew. 

“You pussies haven’t fucking-“ 

“Nobody’s told her,” MM was watching Ben carefully, and exchanged another fucking look with Annie. “That shit’s not our place.” 

Ben had a lot of other fucking questions. Why nobody had decided to maybe fucking say something to Ben about this. How often they talked about it behind his goddamn back. How it wasn’t their fucking place, not by a mile, but while they were having this dumb as fuck conversation, what were their opinions on Her loving Ben-

 Someone’s phone started ringing, cutting Ben from his thoughts. 

“It’s Mallory,” MM muttered, giving Ben one last look. “Don’t be a fucking ass about this. We’ve observed something, against our will I might add, and she doesn’t know. That’s it.”

MM picked up—Malloy was an impatient bitch who had to ask about an ETA she could pass on to Singer��and Annie looked like she was going to say something. Her mouth opened and closed like a damn fish twice, before just shaking her head and turning back to her seat.  

Ben’s phone buzzed in his hand before he could force Annie to contiune, and if his smile made him look like a fucking idiot when he saw Her face on his lockscreen, he looked downright moronic when he read the banner on the display.

When he’d gotten his phone, She’d entered her name into it. Just her name. No extra bullshit or annotations like the others, just her damn name. Ben hadn’t fucking stood for it. He’d tried to model his excellent revision after the other contacts, but the way to type a semi-colon was apparently a fucking secret that Ben wasn’t allowed to know, so he’d had to improvise. He’d deleted her name—you could wipe his memory and replace his brain, but some part of Ben would always fucking know her name, so he didn’t a fucking phone to tell him—and done the nickname and instructions.

2 messages from Sunshine, take care of.

Ben grinned, looking around the minivan to ensure nobody saw how fucking stupid he looked—although it might not matter anymore, since they were all apparently fucking invasive dickwads—and opened the messages.

You forgot your coffee.

There was a photo, a half-blurry picture of the mug She’d given Ben on their table. He wasn’t sure when it had left his hand between their apartment and the elevator, but it clearly wasn’t there now.

wut the fuckk am i sopossed to do abut it now 

Ben turned his phone over, and it was a few seconds before it buzzed again.

Are you going to make any effort to spell?

He swallowed a chuckle. no

Please?

no

I can just not text you. That option is very much on the table.

u textd me firs

Ben paused, then added, i havnt beeen gon a fuckinh hour

Her response was immediate and Ben wasn’t sure how she typed so fucking fast. Shut up, or I’ll dye all your clothing pink and tape over all your baseball games while you’re gone.

do nut do that i havnet fuckingg watched thwm

If you make a modicum of an attempt to type in a way I can decipher, I won’t.

Ben rolled his eyes, and typed a little slower. whats a modicum. is it jizz

No, you horny ass. It means a small amount.

like modicome

That’s the exact same word, you just can’t fucking spell. 

brat 

You love it, cunt. And I don’t know why you even record the games, we can just stream them.

i dont trust the stream to be fucking right

Right??? About what?

game. its the principl Sunshine.

It’s a stupid principle. An old man principle. There was a pause, three tiny bubbles popping in and out of Ben’s screen, and then How’s the ride going? Has anyone killed anyone else?

Ben looked up at MM and Annie, still facing forward. no

Who’s driving?

lady suit

Ben didn’t get a response for almost a minute, and he’d just started to glare at the display when her message came through.

Do you mean Agent Cortez? The one you stole the gun from?

yes

That’s it?

u dont need two peopl to drive

I meant is that it for security.

apperently 

Apparently.

shit the fuck up

Gross.

Ben snorted, and decided that this could be enough. He was happy to spend four hours in this horrible fucking minivan, because She’d still be talking to him. Her voice had stopped following him around a few days after she’d gotten home—he hadn’t heard it in over a week—but he’d had the real Her at his side. The Her he could touch and tease and grin at, and who would match everything he threw at her in stride. The Her he was allowed to look at and think I fucking love you. He might not be able to touch Her like this—through the phone and over text—but he could still imagine her bright smile with every message and pretend she was at his side, telling him about her day. About how since Ben wasn’t home to train Ryan, they were going to eat lunch together in the apartment. About how she was cleaning out the fridge—asking if he wanted another two tubs of strawberry cream cheese, because they were down to one and he tore through them in a day—and whatever TV show she was watching without him. She rarely took more than a minute to respond, and Ben never fucking looked away from his phone, so the hours passed easily.

He hadn’t even noticed they’d parked until the doors of the car opened, and it grew suspiciously quiet as MM and Annie left their seats.

“Soldier Boy?” Annie poked her head back inside, and Ben nearly threw a headrest at her on instinct. “We’re here.”

Ben looked outside the door with a frown. He’d been to the White House, and this wasn’t fucking it. This was a loading dock. “Where the hell is here.”

“Hotel,” MM called from somewhere behind Annie. “We’ve got an hour until the actual meeting, and I am not fucking leaving my clothing in the car. You better start hauling ass, or we’ll leave you in the car.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but grabbed his phone, climbed over the middle row and out past Annie, and grabbed his suitcase before following Agent Cortez through a gray door and up too goddamn many flights of stairs for there not to be a fucking elevator.

He got his own room. It had a nice rug, and a bunch of fucking shit paintings, and a large bed that Ben would not fucking be sleeping in. The sheets were too cool, and there wasn’t an imprint of Her body on one side or the smell of her shampoo on the pillows, so Ben would maybe sit on it, but that would be the extent of its function. He didn’t bother to take his shit fully out the suitcase—tossing his current clothing on the bed in exchange for his supe suit—but did plug his phone in with the stupid little white wire, reading the last text She’d sent. 

Ryan wants to know your opinion on Frankenstein, if you’ve read it.

i had to read it in shcool. was ok. He paused, looking around the hotel room. we got to the hotel. fucking pussy singer is making us wait a hour.

Are you settled? Did you get to eat on the way? If not you should ask MM, he’ll probably have a plan for food.

As if he’d been fucking summoned, MM walked through the previously fucking locked door of Ben’s room.

“How the fuck did you get in-“

MM raised his hand, displaying a key card. “You settled? We want to go now, Singer might be able to see us early.”

Ben scowled. “Why do you get to just fucking walk in to my goddamn room.”

“Because I’m your fucking CO, and a hell of a lot more trustworthy. You’re only here because Singer’s nostalgic or some shit.”

“I’d go back right fucking now if you pussies don’t want me-“ 

“Nope.” MM looked around the room, frowning at the open suitcase before turning back to Ben. “You look fucking settled. Let’s go.”

Ben glanced back at his phone, sent her a quick text that they were going to the meeting, grabbed his shield, and followed MM back to the shitty fucking minivan.

Singer did not get them in early. They’d arrived at the White House—it looked the exact fucking same since Ben had been here last, expect with a fuck ton more computers—been sat in a random ass room with a table and paper cups of dogshit coffee, and waited for five goddamn hours. Right as Ben started to seriously consider standing up and just fucking finding Singer—they’d shoot him, he’d live, and everyone could go the fuck home—a lady in a gray skirt walked through the door and gestured for them to follow her. The did, into a room that looked the exact fucking same as the one they’d just fucking been in. The only difference was the five men and women in black suits and sunglasses, lining the walls around President Singer.

“Mr. President, Marvin Milk, Annie January, and,” the woman glanced at Ben with nervous eyes. “Soldier Boy are here.” 

“I can see that Millie.” Singer sighed, gesturing to the chairs across the table. “You three sit the hell down, you’re makin me feel like a jackass.”

MM nodded, and dropped across from Singer with Annie to one side and Ben—after receiving a sharp glare—to the other. 

“It’s good to see you again, Sir.” MM clasped his hands on the table, leaning forwards. “Thank you for meeting with us-“ 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Singer looked between them, eyes landing on Ben. “Soldier Boy, you look about how I expected.” 

Ben scowled. “Why the fuck were we waiting for five hours.” 

MM and Annie glared at him, MM’s mouth opening to probably tell Ben to shut the fuck up, but Singer chuckled.

“You should be lucky I’m entertaining this shit at all. Grace told me what you want, and I’ve got a few questions first.” 

Annie nodded. “What do you need to know?” 

Singer said Her full name, and Ben’s fists curled on the table. “She’s been making some risky fuckin gamble. Riskier than waking him,” Singer nodded to Ben. “Up. You willing to place all your bets on her willingness to play with fire?” 

Ben shouldn’t talk. She’d told him to be diplomatic, and if he opened his mouth he’d tell Singer to shove his dick in his mouth and eat Ben’s fucking asshole. So MM got to answer.

“It’s all paid off before,” MM’s words were short. Neutral. “She’s the one who got Neuman out of your hair, and kept your constituents from going full fucking team Homelander.” 

Singer hummed. “And what about the FBSA incident? I heard about how she got away from the tower, I’ve seen the footage of all those agents dropping down screamin. You think she’s stable enough to get back in the game?” 

“She’s gotten a,” Annie paused, frowning. “Handle on her powers. She’s not a danger to anyone, and she’s doing a lot of work.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Singer leaned back in his chair, flipping his phone in his hands. “She’s managed to make a real mess of the public. We need to get some sort of direction with where to take this. Get her back in front of a camera, on the record about those Homelander accusations.” Singer shot Annie a look. “And next time, I’d like to be kept in the loop before you pull a stunt like that.”

“It was the fucking truth.” Ben’s words were hissed through teeth, and he channeled all his vulgar threats at Singer into a violent glare. “And until you actually fucking pay us, we don’t need to tell you shit.”

Singer narrowed his eyes at Ben. “She needs to fix what she broke-“

“She doesn’t need to do a goddamn thing. You put a camera in her face, I’ll break it.”

The suits around Singer were tensing, hands dropping to their guns, but Singer just shook his head. “You know, I’ve heard the rumors about you two. Didn’t think they were entirely true, sorta wanted to see for myself, but I also didn’t think I’d spend my career cleaning up media messes.”

“With all due respect, sir, Soldier Boy’s not wrong.” MM let out a long breath. “She’s not a threat, but I wouldn’t put her back into the public eye yet. There’s no telling what Sage and Homelander have ready for that, and she just underwent some real fucked up shit. She’s the reason we’ve got Homelander in a stall, it’s not fucking worth the risk of sending her right back into that motherfuckers arm for some good press.”

Ben wasn’t going to let Homelander anywhere fucking near Her, but didn’t get chance to shout that before Singer was sighing, rubbing his chin as he spoke.

“I’m willin to keep her on the bench for now, but I ain’t sure we’re going to be able to hold Homelander off much longer. I got guys in congress saying they want him as my VP replacement, and I can’t keep kickin that can down the road.”

“That’s what we’re here to talk about.” Annie glanced at MM, waiting for his small nod to continue. “I understand Mallory told you what we’re here to request, and we wouldn’t be asking if we didn’t think it would work.”

“Mr. President, you know as well as we do that Homelander’s a threat to democracy.” MM’s words were careful, slow. “All we need is one shot. Just one vial of V, and we can finish this shit for good.”

Singer scoffed. “You people keep sayin this will be our shot. That French Asshole’s weapon against Neuman was supposed to be our shot. Edgar’s farm up in Maine was supposed to be out shot. Soldier Boy was supposed to be our shot. But Homelander’s still fuckin running around. What makes this shot any different.” 

“We’ve got the receipts to prove the V will put him under-“ 

“I’ve seen all your documents, Starlight.” Singer dismissed Annie with a hand, gaze falling to Ben. “Why ain’t you able to finish this, huh? Just fire at the laser eyed asshole, get it over with?”

“I’d like to see you do this fucking better-“

“Sir,” MM interrupted Ben with a glare, and Ben rolled his eyes. “This is a delicate situation. The V is the easiest way to get it done without any unnecessary death or destruction. It’s all we’re asking for.”

“You think I can just snap my fingers and make it appear?” Singer snorted. “It ain’t that simple. That V is fuckin miles underground, and you’re lucky I’m even saying we have it. On the record, it was destroyed three damn years ago. There’s not a chance we’re just givin you some-“ 

“How fucking stupid are you,” Ben drawled, deciding to fully ignore the glowers and sneers of everyone in the room, or the clicks of guns. “That you think we’d give fuck about your records or obstacles. You want Homelander out of the picture to keep your cushy fucking pussy job, this is the damn way to do it. Either that, or you can try and hold that star-spangled dickfuck down yourself while I take the shot.”

The room was silent, and Ben could fucking feel Annie and MM’s glares. Singer himself didn’t look too pleased, and Ben didn’t even bother to try and give a fuck. Not when Singer took a long breath, glancing down at his phone, and relented.

“I’ll need approval from my defense secretary,” Singer muttered, still glaring at Ben. “And some sort of collateral if you idjits can’t do your fucking jobs again.”

“Your whole fucking country is collateral, you pussy headed motherfucker.” Ben stood up, grabbing his shield from beside his seat. “We’ll do our job, you do yours and get us that fucking V.” 

Ben marched out of the room, and waited just long enough for Annie and MM to scramble after him before following their previous path back to the minivan.

Nobody yelled at him about Singer. But it seemed less about Ben’s anger paying off, and more about a general distaste for the whole fucking situation. For how much of a bureaucratic ass Singer was being, not just doing what it took to kill Homelander. How all those pussies had to do was give them the V, far away from the actual fucking fight.

The ride back to the hotel was tense—Ben didn’t see why they couldn’t just fucking go home, but when he said as much all he got was a grunt about security from MM—and it was dark outside by the time they returned. When they got upstairs, Ben slammed his door with a mutter of night to Annie and MM, and dropped his shield on the floor with thoughtless clang as he stripped down.

He’d left his phone on the bed. It had made for a boring fucking five hours—he’d never fucking tell Her, but he’d read a book Annie had pulled from fucking nowhere in an attempt to entertain himself—and Ben turned on the screen the moment he crossed over to the mattress, reading 4 messages from Sunshine, take care of and swiping them open.

Good luck with Singer.

Try not to kill him.

Please tell me how it goes.

Make sure you get dinner.

Ben hadn’t eaten dinner. He’d get on MM’s ass about that later, after he texted her back.

singer is alive and talkig to cabnet for v

Her response was almost immediate. Oh, thank fuck. I’m proud of you, I really didn’t want to go on the lam. 

why would u be a lamb

ON the lam, Pretty Boy. It means running from the law.

the fuck would make u run from the law

Because people aren’t just going to let you kill the president. There would be consequences. 

Ben grinned at his phone. youd run from the governemnt for me

Don’t get too fucking smug. I’d beat your ass for MAKING me run from the government first. 

but u wouldd

I would. Did you eat?

did u fucking eat

I did. I had dinner with everyone. It was hotdog night.

u saved me a dog

Nope. We have hotdogs in the fridge, you can microwave one when you get home.

youre so fuckigg mean to me sunshine 

Fuck you. Just for that, I’m eating all the brownies Kimiko gave us.

whyd she give us brownies 

Technically, she gave ME brownies. I was going to share, but you’re being an asshole.

brat

Cunt. Did YOU eat?

Ben paused, and sighed to nobody. i will

That’s a no.

i didnt fucking say no i said i will

But you didn’t.

shut the fuck up

Go eat.

you cant fukcig make me

Please eat, Ben. You need to just as much as I.

why 

Because you’re a human person. Even with the V, human people need food.

ill eat the brownies when i get home

If you don’t promise me you’re going to go eat right now, there won’t be any brownies when you get home. I’ll give them to Butcher.

u woulndt

Wanna bet?

Ben scowled. i dont want to eat i want to talk

I’m going to bed, Pretty Boy. It’s late.

its ten

And I’m exhausted, we were up early and it’s been a long day.

what happpend

Worried about Edgar and Singer. Media is full of bitches.

ur oaky. Ben paused, starting to type out becaus ill come home right-

Her message came through. I’m fine. Promise me you’ll eat.

Ben glared at the phone, because he didn’t fucking believe her, but still deleted his offer and typed whatever

Ben.

swear it

Thank you. There was a beat, and then a second message. I miss you. Thank you for doing this.

i miss u ass well 

Another beat. I miss your ass as well.

Ben snorted. He fucking loved Her. go sleep sunshine

I’ll see you tomorrow?

u will or ill fucking run to jersey

Just steal a car. I know you can.

i thought I wasnt supposed too 

I’ll make an exception. Whatever gets you home.

ill be home toomorow. godnight beuaitufl

Ben put his phone down, fully dressing before walking down the hall to bang on MM’s door.

MM was glaring with bleary eyes when it swung open. “The hell you want?”

“Where the fuck do I get food.”

“Call hotel services, dumbass.” MM paused before closing the door, watching Ben with a tired, cautious expression. “You weren’t total fucking shit with Singer. And Mallory says they’ll have us on the road by 7am tomorrow. Be ready.”

The door closed, and Ben returned to his room to figure out how the fuck to call hotel services. It took him a whole damn hour, but Ben got shrimp, ice cream, and a real nice fucking robe that the CIA would be paying for. He picked up his phone, frowned at the banner of Message from Sunshine, take care of, and opened it up. 

He thought he hadn’t read it right at first. He blinked a few times—he’d gotten wine as well because nobody appreciated him asking for coke—and crushed his phone in his hand when the words clicked. When they hit him with the force of a train.

Goodnight, Benjamin. I love you.

————————

You can’t sleep. You’d texted Ben goodnight two hours ago—you think, your brain is a little slow from exhaustion—but it’s too quiet, too cold, too dark to do anything but stare at the ceiling and drown in your own thoughts. Too lonely to do anything but worry and worry and worry about everything, and try not to cry.

You’re so tired. You’re home, you should just feel safe and easy and happy, but you’re just fucking exhausted. Your joy is still real when you smile at Ryan, and talk to Annie, and laugh with Kimiko. All your love is still so strong and eternal, circling your head and bringing your every thought back to Ben. It’s painful, how much you love him. How you can’t stop breaking, or wanting him, or missing him. He’s been gone for barely twelve hours, and you miss him. Your eyes are drooping, and your brain is foggy, and all you can do is miss him.

The exhaustion is all in your head. It’s all stemmed from the stress of what if Singer says no to the V. Ben said he was running it past his “cabnet”, but what if they say no. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep fighting Homelander forever, it’s going to kill you. This needs to be over, it needs to be over now, you can’t fucking do this anymore. You’re not strong enough to do this anymore.

Weak.

You’re home. What matters is that you’re home. You can’t feel anyone—it’s been a week of the pills, one in the morning and one in the night, hidden from Ben because you’re still not ready to tell him—or sleep a night without blood haunting your dream, or spend an hour without glancing at your phone and seeing another story about your life.

People are still putting together your “relationship” with Ben. You’d told Annie everything—at least, everything that wasn’t how Ben made you moan and how you loved him so much it made you a little bit of an idiot—and she’d relayed it all as instructed. You woke Ben up to kill Homelander. You became friends with him, and you made each other promises about never going back. You lived together, and had a complicated relationship. You’d chosen the words carefully, ignoring Butcher’s eye roll and Annie’s sigh, and reminded everyone that this was technically Annie’s point of view. This was what she could’ve observed without your input, and what she’d say. And now, all across the internet, more and more timelines and breakdowns of the Anomaly and Soldier Boy’s relationship are popping up. A lot of them are paired with timelines of you and Homelander.

All of them make you feel sick. Even if they buy Annie’s words and denounce Homelander, they still say things you don’t want to hear. You’re obsessive. In love with Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy’s in love with you. It’s a toxic relationship. You killed people for him. He was killing people for you. It was unrequited on your side. Unrequited on his side. It’s a great American love story. It’s star crossed. He’s probably going insane without you. You didn’t love him enough to go back to him. You’re not worthy of him. Even with Starlight’s claims about your powers being far greater than Vought let on, you’re still weak. Weaker than Soldier Boy. Weaker than Homelander. Your greatest advantage is your feminine allure, because you’re a whore, and you’re weak.

You’re so fucking tired.

Homelander had avoided a direct response to the stories about you and Ben. Sage had entirely denounced Annie’s claim within two days, calling them all blanket lies and propaganda meant to manipulate the public, but Homelander had just agreed. Said they were looking for you, trying to recover you, that he loved you and missed you and would kill whoever had taken you from him.

You keep having nightmares about that as well. Where the blood is splattered across your skin, and Homelander is holding Ben’s heart in gloved hands—red, maybe covered in blood, you can’t tell—and you lose him forever. You burn and burn and burn, and sometimes Homelander dies, but Ben always dies. You always lose him, and have to live for the rest of time with a hole in your head and a heart that doesn’t really beat right anymore.

When you wake up, Ben is always there. Holding you and rubbing soothing patterns onto your skin, muttering words of comfort into your skin and surrounding you with his warmth and the smell of pine. It always calms you down, seals up another crack in your body as you believe him just a little more every time. You’re home, and that’s what matters. You’re here, in Ben’s arms, and everything is going to be okay. You’re still broken, but he’s staying, and you’re all that matters.

Ben won’t touch you, but you’re going to be okay. He keeps tensing and pulling away whenever you try to give him more, but he’s still here. Still holding you in the shower, still kissing you and staying at your side, but not touching you.

You wish you could feel him. You wish you could understand why he won’t touch you. Being afraid that the hunger in him had simply had a quiet, wilting death when he saw how broken you were, and now he gives a shit about you—adores you—but doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you, he hasn’t loved you, but now he doesn’t want you either. You don’t want to make him do anything, not if he doesn’t want to, not while he’s staying, but you wish he would just touch you.

He won’t. You’re weak and broken, and even as you’re healing you’re just so tired. You can’t control yourself, can’t finish this, and you’re fucking tired. You’re not strong, unconquerable, and zealous with anger like Ben, or Butcher, or Kimiko. But you’re not forgiving and determined like Hughie and Annie and MM. You can’t give them anything like Frenchie or A-Train, and you’re not innocent like Ryan. You’re guilty of blood sticking across your body, but you’re too tired to do anything about it, and you don’t have it in you to kill Homelander with your bare hands, but you don’t have the patience or resilience to wait longer.

You need this to be over. Homelander dying won’t set that thing still flailing in your gut back into place, or stop the nightmares forever, but you’ll stop looking for him in shadows and being a little afraid of the open sky. You’ll be able to make yourself strong enough to tell Ben you love him, and force yourself to be okay when he says no. 

You’ve spent the whole day missing him. Everything keeps rounding back to how you miss him. How the bed is too big without Ben snoring on top of you, and how the sheets and pillows smell like him, and how there’s still an indent of his body on his side of the mattress. You’d led a normal day while he was gone, doing laundry and texting him and trying not to be too pathetic about how much you love him. Spending the day with Ryan and talking about Ben like a normal person, trying to clean a little and not letting your hands linger on his coffee mug or shirt, watching TV and not looking at the empty space next to you.

Trying to focus on dinner, and not worry about Singer, or why the meeting was taking so long.

“Why did they have to go to DC?” Ryan had asked you over the table, speaking through a mouthful of relish and ketchup and mustard and every other condiment in the dining hall. “Couldn’t Singer have, maybe, uh, called-“

“Ryan,” Butcher had grunted. “Chew and swallow. She ain’t goin nowhere.” 

Ryan’s eyes had widened, and he’d given Butcher an apologetic look as he closed his mouth. 

“I don’t know,” you’d answered, poking at your hotdog with a finger. “Singer probably wanted some evidence that we cared about this enough to make the trip. It’s not too far, and we need the V, so it’s not worth arguing about.” 

“I thought, um,” Ryan had coughed slightly—he’d swallowed a little too fast—and given you a nervous frown. “I thought you got V. Hughie mentioned you were still at the tower for V. To, um, kill my dad.”

“Hughie, lad, the fuckin hell did we say about keepin it on the low-“ 

“I’m sorry!” Hughie had shrunken from Butcher’s glare, face growing red. “I just mentioned it, and Soldier Boy said it first-“ 

You’d frowned. “Ben said what?” 

“He said you wouldn’t want to lie to Ryan, and he’s the one mentioned that the V would help us kill Homelander-“ 

“I’m not upset about it!” Ryan had jumped in as Butcher’s glare at Hughie became lethal. “I was just curious, don’t be mad at Hughie or Ben-“

“It’s okay, Ryan.” You’d sighed. It was only 7pm, too early to have a bloodbath in the dining hall. “I’m not mad. Butcher might be mad, but he’s a little bitch baby.” 

“Fuckin watch it, Love-“ 

You’d ignored Butcher, and watched Ryan carefully as you spoke. “I was at the tower for V. But I couldn’t find the right kind, so now we need to look somewhere else.”

“The right kind?” Ryan had frowned. “What, um, what kind was there?”

“The V Ben and I have,” you’d explained with a sigh. “I don’t know what it would do to a normal supe, but it’s essentially useless in any format on Homelander.”

“You did not happen to keep it when you returned, non?” Frenchie had leaned around the table, looking at you hopefully, and you’d shaken your head.

“It got destroyed on my way back. It’s gone.”

You’d been lying. The V was still in your underwear drawer, hidden next to the suppressants and taunting you in the silence. Ben’s phantom was gone, his Thing in your chest gone with your empathy, and it was just you and thoughts of weak. You miss Ben, and you’re weak, and you need this to be over. ‘

Homelander has to die. He hasn’t earned taking up your life like this. Your life is supposed to be you and Ben, warm and safe. You keep trying to get lost in a fantasy on Ben’s hand in yours, living in a house in Rome where there’s grass outside and sunlight all around you. Laughing with him and kissing him and never thinking about Homelander again. Giving him everything you have—even if he never loves you—and just being happy. No more gods. No more wars. No more blood or dirt on your hands or under your nails. No more impossible, difficult fucking choices. Just you and Ben, together, with him grinning down at you and peace everywhere in the world.

You’re exhausted. You can’t sleep. You need this to be over. And after another few hours, it makes you sit up and cross the room, makes you open the drawer and take out the V. The small vial turns over in your hands, the text of Project Anomaly, Trial 6 slightly faded, and the green liquid within it completely useless to finish this.

Your feet carry you downstairs, and down the silent halls with the vial still in your hands. They take you to the dining hall—a few generators and appliances casting it in a low ligh— and over to the table. There are almost twenty in the whole room, but everyone had come to a silent agreement that this was the table. Where you eat with everyone, where Ben presses his thigh to yours, and where plans are made. 

You have a plan. It’s not a good plan—Ben would hate it, but he’s in DC and can’t stop you—and yet it’s all you can think about in the dark. Ending this. Really, properly ending this. 

It takes a little while. Thirty or forty minutes of humming into the empty room and letting pine and strawberries and vanilla fill the room with an invisible warmth, waiting to see if your guess was correct.

Then the door swings open, and Butcher freezes in the hall as your eyes meet. 

“The bloody fuck are you doin’ here-” 

“We need to talk.” 

Butcher scowled, stepping into the dining hall but not moving across to the table. “We ain’t got shit to talk about-“ 

“Yes,” you sigh. “We do. Please just sit down, Butcher. It won’t take long.”

He looks you up and down, huffs, and stalks over to the bench, dropping across from you with a glare. “How’d the fuckin hell you know to find me here.”

“Ben said you don’t really sleep,” you shrug. “He said you always have terrible bags under your eyes, and your heart goes a little too fast, so his bet was, and I quote, ‘the fucking pussy is either on a bunch of drugs he’s not sharing with me, or he’s sleeping less then I do’. And I guessed you wouldn’t want to wake up Ryan, so I took a gamble. And I was right.”

“I ain’t able to believe I backed you up on wakin him when you gave your fuckin pitch.” Butcher mutters. “Shoulda killed it in the first month when you got all fuckin chummy with the cunt.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure our friendship is really hard for you-“ 

“I don’t give a flyin fuck about your friendship,” Butcher snaps. “I’m pissed with myself for lettin it get this far, losin my teammate to being in fuckin love with Soldier Boy.” 

Your mouth falls open, and you can hear the blood in your ears. “I, um, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“ 

“Save it.” Butcher rolls his eyes, giving you a bored look. “We all fuckin know, you make disgustin heart eyes at him every damn day. I’m just sayin, you twats start makin mini-supes, I am not takin responsibility for them killin their nannies.” 

“What do you mean we all know?”

“All the Boys,” Butcher shrugs. “A-Train confirmed it-“

“He wasn’t supposed to say anything-“ 

“We already fuckin knew. And nobody’s told Soldier Boy, so keep your bloody head on your shoulders.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “He, he still doesn’t-“

“Nah, he’s a fuckin idiot. You both are fuckin idiots.”

“Hey-“

Butcher drawls your name, giving you a flat look. “I put it together at Tek Knight. We all been gettin it for far too fuckin long, and you’re real bloody stupid for someone who can fuckin feel people’s emotions.” 

“I’m taking the suppressants,” you snap. “Specifically so I don’t make Ben feel what I do.” You take a long breath. “I can’t force him to love me. It’s not my call you make.”

“I don’t give a fuckin dick or tit about what you’re doin it for,” Butcher gives you a long, strange look. A frown without cruelty or bitterness, like he’s trying to figure something out. “Just don’t get all fuckin piney over him when it’s your own fault he don’t know.”

You scowl, and swallow a sneer of he doesn’t know because I can’t lose him. I love Ben more than should be physically possible, and he’s too important for me to be selfish and manipulative to make him love me. You came here for a reason, and you’re too tired to fight—really, properly yell and shout and swear at—Butcher. So you shake your head, glancing down at the V in your lap, and look back up at Butcher. “Can we please just talk about why I’m here?” 

Butcher shrugs. “Floor’s all fuckin yours.”

“I,” you take a deep, heavy breath to slow your heart, and force yourself to meet Butcher’s eyes. “I want you to do it.” 

“Do fuckin what-“

“I want you to kill Homelander.”

Butcher stares at you for a second, for once at a loss for words. “The bloody hell would make you want that.”

“It has to be you,” you mutter, fingers tapping faster and faster on the table. “This has to be over, and it has to be you. Ben is going to blast him, and you’re going to shoot him. Right in the head, with a normal, boring gun. He doesn’t get to have me burn him alive, have Ben or Kimiko bash his head in, or have Annie send him flying and break his spine. He doesn’t get a good death. He doesn’t get to be a martyr, or a legend. He’s going to die like a fucking person.”

“I ain’t-“ 

“Butcher,” you whisper, and don’t bother to hide the exhaustion and pain from your voice. You need him to do this. Butcher is a piece of shit, and has given you hell since you’ve met him, and he needs to be the one to kill Homelander. He’s the only one who might understand this. Understand why Homelander shouldn’t be killed in a way that matters. That Homelander doesn’t fucking deserve that. “I want you to do this. I want Homelander to realize he’s lost, that we beat him, and then I want you to kill him, and for this horrible fucking shit to be over.” You choke slightly. “I just want this to be over.”

You think he’s going to try and resist you. You think Butcher is going to choose to be generous at the worst possible moment, and tell you that the killing blow is yours. That you’ve suffered the most at Homelander’s hands, and should get to watch the light leave his eyes. But you don’t want to. You’re past revenge and fury and blood. You’re just tired. All you really want now is to burn in Ben’s arms, to bury your head in his chest and burn and burn and burn until you’re not afraid anymore. Until the heat has fused all your cracks back together, and Homelander’s never able to hurt you again.

But he doesn’t. Butcher just nods once, eyes never leaving yours, and grunts, “you got a deal. That it?” 

“One more thing.” You hold up the V, glowing slightly in the soft light of the breaching morning. If Butcher is surprised you have it, you don’t see it on his face. “This is the V in me. The V in Ben.” You place it on the table in front of Butcher, watching him carefully. “You can use it on yourself, and become the thing you’ve loathed for years. You can use it on me, and I think it might kill me. If it does, Ben will kill you. You can use it on Ben, and make him stronger. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it, as long as you do it. As long as you, Butcher, just you, make the choice and live with the fucking consequences.”

You stand up, and leave Butcher silently in the dining hall. You’ve said what you need, and Ben will be home soon. You’ll be able to fall into his arms and sleep. Until then, you’ll just have to make yourself busy.

There’s the laundry you forgot to fold last night. Ben’s underwear and socks that you’d left in the dryer, because he’d texted you about the meeting and the relief of it going well had slammed a wall of exhaustion into your brain. You dump everything in a basket, and carry it upstairs. It’s boring, but it’s better than just waiting. 

Your phone is face up on your bed when you enter the bedroom, and it lights up with a text as you close the door.

Annie January: Arm Wrestling Champion

We’re headed back, ETA around 10.

Soldier Boy broke his phone somehow btw.

And the meeting went well, just in case he didn’t get a chance to tell you.

You text back a thumbs up—you’re honestly shocked it took this long for Ben to break his phone—and leave the phone face up on the bed as you fold laundry. You manage to kill fifteen minutes with this, because while Ben has a truly abysmal amount of clothing, your brain is moving tragically slow from a lack of sleep.

Coffee. You need coffee. It will kill another five minutes, and you might actually manage to stay awake until Ben comes home. You can put on the coffee, and make a sandwich, and hum to yourself as you drink, just to practice making lights and shadows bend around you. Ten minutes.

Ben doesn’t fold his clothing. When you return upstairs and open his drawers, that much is obvious. Pants and shirts have been tossed mindlessly into drawers, and underwear and socks are mixed together without thought.

That’s another thing to do. Fold Ben’s clothing. Simple and tedious, keeping you awake and your mind on your hands instead of clinging to the silence. The feeling of you, just you, the only one to blame for how cold and tired you are, not strong enough to get through this alone, but you are alone, and you’re so tired- 

Clothes. Fold all of Ben’s clothes. Take them out of the drawers—pants and shirts first, they take up the most space and the least time—fold them, and return them. Then you can pair the socks and organize his underwear, and-

You pause, frowning at the almost empty drawer. There’s three stray socks, a pair of boxers, and sunglasses. They’re not your sunglasses, they’re green and don’t have the little Soldier Boy symbols on the ear pieces, but they’re the same style. Your sunglasses had broken anyway, and these might just be Ben’s, but they’d been hidden. Ben didn’t hide his things. His razor was on the bathroom counter, his shoes were scattered around downstairs, and his mug was at the front of the cabinet. Sometimes he just left it out, because he’d fucking be using it tomorrow anyway.

And, even if Ben did hide things, an underwear drawer was an incredibly odd place for sunglasses. You’d just dismiss it as the glasses falling in the drawer, but they look carefully placed, wrapped in the boxers like they shouldn’t be seen. 

They’re just sunglasses. Sunglasses that look just like the ones that had been broken when Homelander took you-

Far in the back of your head, something starts to ring in your brain. Nobody had told you that your sunglasses had broken. You hadn’t seen them since you’d gotten home, but that could’ve just been a coincidence. Sage could’ve gotten rid of them in the tower, or Ben could’ve lost them somewhere in the months where you’d been gone, but they’d been broken. Ben’s phantom had told you they’d been broken in the fight with Homelander, and you’d told him that you’d liked those sunglasses because they reminded you of him. 

These ones looked the exact same as the broken once, save for the colors. Simplistic black frames—no patterns or symbols—and a dark shade of green that matched the Soldier Boy suit. Almost exactly the same hue, a slightly darker shade.

You have a theory. A weak, flimsy theory that makes you carefully place the sunglasses back in the drawer and run downstairs to your computer. It’s not really based on anything, all your evidence is speculative—Ben’s allowed to be a weirdo who hides sunglasses in his underwear drawer—but you have to check. Just so you don’t go insane, you have to check. 

Between you and Ben, there’s only the one Jane Smith email account. Which means there’s one amazon account, and you can check the purchase date of the sunglasses. It takes a second—your hands have changed from going too slow to going too fast and losing efficiency in your frantic movements—but you find the receipt, and the date. Late May, nine days after the Believe Expo, which means four days before your escape. When you’d started testing your empathy on the Deep.

The same day you’d talked to Ben’s phantom about the sunglasses.

It could be a coincidence. It’s technically possible that it’s a complete, total coincidence that doesn’t mean anything, let alone what you think it might mean. What your brain is starting to draw together. That, towards the end at least, whenever you spoke to Ben’s phantom, his Thing would grow stronger. That you’d been able to feel him there, feel that extra sense in your body that told you Ben. Ben is near you. He’s across the bridge or in the bathroom or down the hall start to go haywire when you were alone in Homelander’s apartment. Where Ben couldn’t have possibly been.

You’d just missed him. You’d just driven yourself insane the torture of being trapped at Vought and the sickness of missing Ben, and the longer you were gone the more you’d needed that small escape of Ben’s voice in your head. Telling you that you would come home. That there wasn’t another option, because you were coming home because you were strong and you’d fucking get through this. 

But you’d missed Ben yesterday. Geographically he’d been even further than when you’d been at Vought, and you hadn’t heard his phantom. It had grown silent, gone with his imprint in your chest. The imprint that was bombed with empathy, that grew back with it as well. The imprint that had appeared after the Believe Expo, after you’d seen Ben, held him and had your every thought reduced back to its natural pattern when he touched you. Had everything be Ben. Ben, I love you. 

The phantom had grown stronger after that. Louder, more persistent, full of stranger conversations and rattling Ben’s Thing inside you when it spoke. But it had just been from missing him. You’d see him and it had made you miss him all the more. Ben’s Thing in your chest might be the empathy, but the phantom was just an echo of your love. A result of how he’d become a vital part of you, how you loved and loved him, loved talking to him and laughing with him and hearing his voice say Brat and Sunshine and fucking breathe and shut the fuck up and I love you-

The phantom had told you he loved you. The phantom had been incredibly persistent about how Ben loved you. Which was evidence that it isn’t what it might be. Ben doesn’t love you. Ben doesn’t love you. Ben doesn’t love you. Ben doesn’t love you.

It doesn’t feel like a real sentence anymore. It’s running around in your head—Ben doesn’t love you, he doesn’t, he just doesn’t, Ben doesn’t love you—and it doesn’t feel right. It’s a fact—it doesn’t need to feel right, it just is—but now it’s become only noises that make your heart contract and your own love wail. You love him. You love Ben so, so much, and all it’s done is drive you mad. You just want him to love you, and the phantom is made of your want and love, so it indulged you and told you Ben loved you. 

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

Unless this is what you think it might be, Ben doesn’t love you. If it is what you think it is, then- 

You have to know. You have to know now, whoever is driving him home needs to drive faster because you might be wrong, but you might be right. And no matter which one it is, you need to know right fucking now.

There’s about two and a half hours until Ben opens the door. You spend most of that time making a list. Writing down every conversation you’ve had with the phantom, just to be sure. To go in prepared, and know what you’re looking for. You fold the socks and underwear when you’re done—twenty minutes—and decide to leave the sunglasses in the drawer. No leading questions, no steering Ben towards the possible truth. Thy hypothetical truth, that’s going to make you sound insane if you say it aloud, but that’s feeling less and less implausible as you’re forced to wait. 

You don’t feel Ben when he comes home. You’re going over the list, rehearsing in your head, and you hear him. Even through the compound’s soundproof walls, you hear Ben stomping down the hall, stopping outside your door, and banging on it.

He’s shouting your name. Not yelling, shouting. Over and over again, until you stand up and let him in.

Ben almost falls on top of you, and there’s something wild in his eyes. His hair is messy, there’s slight bags under his eyes, and his jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried his teeth are going to break. He’s scanning you up and down, one hand gripping your arm like you might vanish, feet planted apart and body towering over yours like he’s ready to defend you from something.

“Hi,” you whisper, and Ben’s voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“We need to fucking talk.”

You swallow. “Yeah, we do. But I’m first.” 

“The fucking hell you are, I need to-“

“Ben.” Your voice is firmer than even you’ve heard it, and Ben freezes. You’d feel bad, but this is important. Ben’s home, and—as much as you want to figure out why he looks like a feral animal—you need to know if you’re right. “I’m first. Sit down.” 

He scowls, but follows you to the table and drops in his usual chair, glaring up at you. “You get seven minutes, then it’s my fucking turn.”

You nod, grab the list—crinkling it between your hands with a slow, grounding breath—and start at the top. “What food do you want on your birthday?”

“Is that what’s so goddamn important-“ 

“Answer the question, please.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, my birthday was last month-“

You have to push past that. Later, after you figure this out, you’ll have time to yell at Ben about his birthday and why you weren’t made aware of it. Right now, you’re on a time limit. “Benjamin, if you don’t answer the fucking question-“

“I don’t know, fucking burgers! Burgers and cake! Are you done, can I fucking talk-“

That wasn’t as helpful as you’d hoped. Burgers and cake is an incredibly predictable answer for Ben to have, so you push on. “No. How many states can you name?”

“I don’t fucking know, I don’t keep track of that shit. I’m not like you and Ryan, it’s not all fucking fifty, but I can name a damn few-“ 

You’ve never told him you can name all fifty. Not to his face. “What does manifest destiny mean?”

Ben scoffs. “Are you giving me a fucking pop quiz-“

“Benjamin-“

“It’s the fucking nationalistic belief that Americans had the right to go west, and should exert the means to do it. Is that it? Can I say my goddamn thing-”

You have to glance at the paper to be sure, but that’s practically word for word what you’d written. What you’d told Ben’s phantom. “What type of porn does the Deep watch?” 

“Tentacle, you’re the one who fucking told me-“ Ben pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Why the fuck are you asking me all these damn questions.”

It takes a long, heavy breath to get the last question out. “Have you been having nightmares again?” 

“Some. Why the fuck does it matter, we both have nightmares-“ 

“What have they been about?”

Ben doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw ticks, and his eyes on yours start to peel you apart. “Blood. Fuck ton of blood and smoke.”

There’s more. There’s something Ben’s leaving out, but right now you don’t care. You’re past being subtle, or thinking about anything but you’re right. You’re almost definitely right, and there’s only one last question to ask. 

“Why are there sunglasses in your underwear drawer?” 

His scowl deepens. “Why the goddamn hell were you in my underwear drawer-“

“I was folding laundry. Why.” 

“Gift.” He grunts. “For you. Replacing the old ones.”

You feel a little lightheaded. “What, what happened to the old ones?”

“Broke when Homelander took you.” Ben pauses, and you think his gaze might be burning into your skin. “If you don’t start making some fucking sense about what you want-“

“While I was gone,” the words start to vomit out of you, frantic and uncertain. “Did you ever, I don’t know, hear me? Hear my voice, talking to you? Or, I don’t know, feel me, when I wasn’t there? Like there’s no way I could’ve been there, logistically, but you were still hearing me-“

Ben snaps your name. “Maybe I did, but I fucking missed you. It’s not some big goddamn news story, and since you’ve been back I haven’t heard shit-“

“Why did you get kicked out of the dining hall?”

“What the fuck are you-“

“Benjamin.” You take a long, deep breath. “Last week, why did MM kick you out of the dining hall?”

“I told you already, I got hard and he’s a fucking uptight pussy-“

“What made you hard?”

Ben goes completely rigid in his seat. “Don’t fucking worry about-“

“Were you thinking about me? About how you’d want to fuck me?”

“How in goddamn hell-“

“Because I was thinking about it,” you whisper, forcing yourself to hold Ben’s gaze. “That morning, before you got home, I thinking about how you’d fuck me. You said you’d prep me, then missionary, then from behind, then I’d ride you, and you told me condoms don’t work on supe jizz. You told me-“

“What the fuck do you mean I told you.”

“Your voice told me. In my head, I was talking to you. I’ve been talking to you. In the tower,” you swallow. “I’d talked to you all the time. In my head. And I-“

Ben grunts your name. “Whatever you’re trying to say, say it.”

“I think I can read your mind!” The words sound stupid when you say them. You sound fucking crazy, but you’re right. “Or like, speak to you through your brain? I was doing it for a while, then it got really weird after the Believe Expo, and I think it’s because you put something in me-“

“Put something in you-“

“I don’t fucking know, Ben! I’m not a scientist, I just know that there’s been this thing in my chest, right here,” you jab a finger at the area near your heart, and Ben’s eyes widen. “And it feels like you, and it’s gone right now because the empathy is gone, but-“

“What the fuck do you mean the empathy is gone.” Ben’s words are low, and his glare is searing right through you. “It’s part of you, it can’t just up and fuck off-“

“I, um,” your nails start to dig into your arm as you hug your body, the list balled up in your hand. “I’ve been taking a suppressant. A pill. It, um, kills the empathy, so I can’t use it.”

“A suppressant.” Ben stands, eyes never leaving yours, voice rising to a shout. “Are you fucking insane?” 

“I’m fine, it’s-“

“You’re not fucking fine! Nothing about this is fucking fine, that’s a part of your goddamn body! You might as well be chopping your fucking arm off-“

“My arm would grow back, just like this-“

“It would still fucking hurt you! Why the fucking hell would you do something so fucking stupid, why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me-“

“I’m fine!” You scream, and smoke begins to rise from your fingers. “I fucking fine, Ben! This is helping me! I just, I can’t fucking control it, I don’t know how-“

“I would’ve fucking helped you!” He takes a step forwards, glare rooting you in place. “I’d do what the fuck you needed to help you control it, but you didn’t fucking trust me-“

“Of course I trust you!” Ben. Ben, I love you. “I fucking trust you with my life, but this isn’t about you-“

“Then why wouldn’t you fucking tell me, I’d have told you it was fucking stupid and insane, because this is fucking stupid and insane-“

“Because I’m fine-“

“You’re not fucking fine!” Ben roars your name, and you swallow. “You’re keep waking up fucking screaming, and you can’t fucking shower alone, you’re not fucking fine, stop saying you’re fine-“ 

“I am!” You shake your head frantically, gaze dropping to his chest. You can’t look him in the eyes right now, you’ll break. “I’m really fine, I’m just tired-“

“Because you haven’t slept a goddamn night peacefully in a fucking week!” Ben’s voice is strained, like he’s in physical pain. “Did it occur to you, even fucking once, that maybe cutting off your arm over and fucking over would hurt you?”

“I don’t care!” Your voice is losing its anger. You’re just so fucking tired, you don’t want to fight, you want to start crying, collapse, just fucking rest. “I don’t care if it’s hurting me! I deserve it! I’m hurting everyone else-“ 

“Are you fucking stupid-“

“No!” You can’t really hear anything over the blood pounding in your ears, over the cold starting to climb into your lungs. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m hurting people, Ben! I’m broken and afraid and weak, I can’t control myself because I’m weak and I can’t make you weak as well-“

“You are not weak-“

“I am! I’m weak! I can’t just get fucking control over my own body, and I’m so tired, and I can’t fucking do this anymore! I can’t keep fighting Homelander and being useless. I’m not like you, I’m not strong enough to do this-“

Ben’s still a few feet away, but when he says your name it rolls through your body. Pushes past the cold and grabs your insides, forces your eyes to his. He looks like something is hurting him, the wild glint in his eyes now tangled in with something bright and furious and hot. “You are not fucking weak. You’re the furthest goddamn thing from weak. You’re fucking alive. You fucking survived. You did something idiotic and so fucking selfless and goddamn impossible, and you lived. You are fucked up and perfect and the strongest fucking person in the world.”

The snapped off thing in your gut starts to wrap around your heart. “Then why won’t you touch me?”

He pauses, mouth open and closing once before he grunts through teeth, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

“You won’t touch me, Ben.” You’re done screaming. You’re choking on something, and every word is strangled and soft. “You stopped touching me after the shower. If you don’t want me, you can just tell me-“ 

“Of course I fucking want you, stop being insane-“

“Then why-“

“I touched you and you fucking broke,” he snaps. He’s done yelling as well, but somehow this hurts more. Ben’s voice is low and heavy, and it’s dropping something into your lungs. “I touched you once, and you goddamn fell apart. You keep saying you’re fucking fine, that Homelander didn’t do anything, but I touched you and it hurt you-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you breathe out, and the world is blurry. “You couldn’t hurt me, Ben. You could never hurt me. I just, I can’t feel you and I hate it. It’s horrible, but I want you to touch me. Please,” everything is far away. Your tongue, your head, your thoughts and throat and mouth are all second to Ben, across the room. So close, not close enough, never close enough. He could never be close enough, and he still doesn’t understand. “I, please, I want you to touch me, Ben. I’ve never wanted anything more that I want you, I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you-“

You don’t hear your own words until after. You don’t register what you’ve said until Ben’s closed the space between you in one step, until he’s grabbed your face with firm hands, until his mouth is crashing onto yours and it’s all Ben. Ben, I love you. 

He’s everywhere. He tastes like coffee and salt, and his touch is desperate. He’s falling onto you, groaning into your mouth when your lips part, invading your mouth with his tongue and teeth and spit, angling your head back to give you more. Your hands fly to his wrists, trying to make sure he’s real. You can’t feel him, but his pulse is heavy under your grip, and he’s so warm, and even as he bites your lower lip his hands are careful and gentle on your face. You’d said it, you said it for Ben to hear, and his touch is still reverent. He’s still holding you like you’re holy, confusing every part of your body as he deepens to kiss into something almost brutal—unrelenting and fervorish, devouring and starved with swallows of every sound that leaves you and his tongue in your throat—but his hands on your face remains adoring and gentle. Fingers tangling in your hair, a thumb tracing over your cheek while the other drops to carefully tilt your head back further.

When he pulls back, Ben’s forehead falls to yours, and you’re both silent. Trading ragged breaths and he traces over your swollen mouth with a light touch and his eyes, and you watch him. When Ben’s eyes finally meet yours they’re blown out and almost feral.

“Don’t take the fucking meds again,” he mutters, gaze stripping you apart before he adds, “please.” 

You’d missed this morning’s pill. Thirteen hours would be up soon. And Ben is real and sounds like he’s pleading, so it’s easy to give in. “I won’t.”

Ben nods, and pulls back. “You need to sleep,” he holds your gaze, even as he draws back up to his full height. “You’re tired.”

This is the worst possible time for your body to listen to Ben more than it listens to you, but the world starts to fuzz with exhaustion, even as you protest. “Ben, we need to talk-“

“We will. After you get some goddamn sleep.”

“It’s only eleven-“

“Did you sleep last night?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Did you fucking sleep, Benjamin?”

“No. So I want some rest, and I’m not doing it without you next to me.”

“But-“

“Trust me,” he grunts. “Just fucking trust me. We will talk about it, I fucking swear, but you need to rest first.”

You take a long breath, and nod. Ben doesn’t wait for you to open your mouth before he’s picking you up, marching up the stairs and into the bedroom, laying you carefully on the mattress before climbing over you and tugging you into his chest. Sleep is crawling into your head—the warmth of Ben and the steady rise and fall of his chest making your head quiet and everything easy—but it’s still too bright to close your eyes, so you roll over and bury your head in Ben’s body.

“What was your thing?” You mumble into his skin, still just a little too wired from the fight to fall under. “We didn’t get to it before I, um…”

Ben’s chuckle makes your whole body grow loose. “You texted me.”

You frown. “I texted you all day, Pretty Boy-“

“You texted me that you love me.” He mutters, and a hand starts to run through your hair, soothing your brain and keeping you against him as your face flushes.

“Oh.” You try to pull yourself closer to his body, hoping you can fully hide the soft nerves in your voice. “I, um, I was tired. I must’ve typed it and, uh, sent it without thinking.” 

“Did,” he pauses, voice low and tense. “Did you mean it.” 

“Both times?”

He snorts, and you smile against him. “Yeah, both fucking times.”

“Yes,” your voice is a breath, words muffled against him, but you know Ben hears because his hands on your skin freeze. “When, in our heads, when you said it-“ 

“I meant it.” He mutters. “I’ll always fucking mean it.”

You nod, hands curling into his shirt. “Okay. Good.” 

“How long until that stupid fucking pill-“

“Soon,” you whisper. “I don’t know why we can’t just-“

Ben grunts your name, his hand on your back starting to rub small circles that drag you further down. “Trust me. Get some sleep.”

He’s lucky you love him. If you didn’t, you’d get a little closer to murdering him every time your body elects to override your brain for Ben’s words. But he says sleep, everything fades into pine and warmth, the sound of Ben’s heartbeat near your head lulling you easily into sleep. 

Blood. So much blood. All there is in the world is blood, filling up your lungs and overwhelming your heart. You don’t know where it’s coming from—don’t know how to stop it—and it’s sweeping over you like a hurricane. Blood on your hands, in your throat, metal on your tongue and red in your vision. You can’t breathe, and you’re screaming for Ben but there’s a smoke far, far above you that’s keeping him away. You can hear him roaring your name, see his figure somewhere around you in the liminal world you’ve been trapped in, but when he reaches for you the blood drags you further down. No matter how much you struggle and flail and scream, it’s just blood. 

Blood, parting away as something cold and blue starts to walk towards you. Grabs you by the neck and yanks you up to watch it. Evil and cruel and no. No. No no no-

You’re screaming when you wake up. There’s something around you—not the blood, this is warm and safe and right—but you can’t really hear what the deep sounds echoing through your head are trying to tell you. It hurts, it all hurts. Your head is cracking open, your heart is aching, your mouth feels like sandpaper, your muscles are sore and your skin is itching and your blood is trying to leave your body because this hurts, this is all so painfully cold save for the pounding of something warm in your chest. Something grounding you and keeping all the fear and screams of unfair, so fucking unfair in your body. It’s full of ardor and it’s bloody, but not the blood that chokes you. Blood that feels like yours. That feels devoted and sharp and furious, that’s made of adoration and hunger and love. 

It’s everything. This thing is powerful and focused and wrathful, aimed and attuned to every single part of you. It’s making the world sharper, and everything feels like it has a purpose. There’s nothing that doesn’t exist to aid what the thing serves, and everything glows when the thing is fed. It’s starving, it will never not be starving, it will only grow more and more hungry, but the hunger isn’t fed by taking. It’s fed by giving, by working and worshiping and caring for something perfect. All that matters is the perfect thing—it fits so well with the beat of the powerful thing—because it infects everything with light. Nothing is ever dark when the perfect thing is tended to, and it’s not easy to tend to, but it’s fucking worth it. The powertful thing lives in your chest, and it’s not yours, but it belongs there. It’s content and happy there, and it riots when you make a small sound. A set of words that you don’t really understand right now, but you need to say. Everything is still coming back to you as your blood returns into your body, but you need to keep saying the words.

The ringing in your ears finally fades, and you can make them out.

Ben. Ben, I love you. 

“I love you too, Sunshine.” A deep voice—it might be the only one in the world that matters—rolls from the warmth around you into your chest. “Sleep.” 

It’s Ben. Ben’s around you, holding you like you’re sacred, and you’re still so tired, but you can feel him. His Thing is alive in your chest, and you know what it is. Ben’s love. Raw and obvious and everything. Burning in you, with you, for you. Ben loves you. 

“Ben,“ you mumbled, and his Thing hums. “I’m-“

If you say sorry, I’m not fucking you in the morning.

Rude. 

You love it.

I do. You sigh against his skin. I love you.

I love you as well. Ben’s voice, inside your body and everywhere around you, is right. This is right. Ben loves you, and you love him, and nothing has ever made more sense.

And, right before you tuck yourself further into his chest, right before you fall back into peaceful, restful, safe sleep, you can breathe.

End Note: We have officially completed the slow burn. I welcome you to the rest of the story: a goddamn wildfire. They’re about to fuck so nasty, you guys don’t even know. Call them Tinashe the way they’re about to freak.

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

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox @criminalyetminimal @solsborg

@generalmoonpolice @ifyouwerethemoon

[fir3ylolol]

smile! you're on camera

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: Staying at Johnny's house is really nice, except...something feels a little off. You find out the hard way when you decide to entertain yourself on the couch.

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, making out, face fucking, sex tape, dom/sub, switch!reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!reader, sex in a theater, i physically cant write men who dont whine, he needs pussy!, afab!reader, he wants you so bad omg, smut, shameless smut, porn with light plot

a/n: hehehehehehe...this is inspired by the voice clip in the invasion mode of mk1 where he says he has cameras everywhere. ive been rly inspired lately, but im gna open up requests on here soon, so keep an eye outtt

word count: 2.63 k

Ao3

Something was really off about Cage’s house. After coming back from the tournament and training, you weren’t ready to get back to normal life. And Johnny had offered you a starring role in the movie he was planning to make about Outworld. You accepted quickly, after making sure you wouldn’t have to get naked or be a horrible person or anything like that. But rent is rough, and Johnny is so generous as to let you stay at his place.

His casual, gigantic mansion-y place.

But it was nice. You had your own space, a full fridge, and could still ignore things like work for a bit longer. Plus, Johnny was a surprisingly great host, hosting movie nights in his private theater. Everything was great, except…

You always felt like someone was watching you. As long as you weren’t in your room or the bathroom, it felt like there were eyes on you. Getting a drink of water? It’s there. Sitting on the couch? Being watched. Just wandering into a room? Oh yeah, you for sure feel it. But you brush it off and don’t bother to say anything to Johnny. You figure it’s just dumb paranoia.

After about 2 weeks without any work from Johnny, you’re getting bored. He’s never home, he has work to do and a movie to plan. So you sit around the mansion all day, waiting. Usually, you read, watch stuff, or even just take laps around the house for exercise. But today, you’re just scrolling through social media. Even that is boring to you today. You decide that, hey, you can think of a good way to pass the time. For a quick moment, you forget about feeling watched. Your fingers dip below your waistband, shivering at your touch. It’s been a long time, you’ve been training and then living in someone else’s house. When would you have the chance?

Slowly, you begin to tease yourself, fingers circling your clit. It’s quite embarrassing how much it affects you, but you’ve lost your ability to feel shame. You lose yourself in your actions, whimpers and moans echoing through the empty house. Unable to stop yourself, you finish with an almost violent snap, panting harshly. Pulling your hand out, you finally feel embarrassed, with how fast you were, and how hard you came. Shakily, you stand up and walk towards the bathroom to wash your hands.

You've forgotten what you did by the time Johnny gets home that evening. Smiling as he walks in, a grocery bag in one hand. “Here comes Mr. Celebrity to pass out treats to us poor folk,” you throw your hands out in a joking manner. But there’s a weird look in his eyes, not matching his characteristic smile. “It’s movie night, I had to make sure we had enough snacks,” he walks towards the kitchen, you shortly behind. “Oh yeah! What’s the movie tonight?” You lean against the counter, searching through the bag.

“The Thing. We haven’t done any horror movies yet.” He grabs a glass of water, drinking deeply. But that look is still there. It almost scares you away at how sharp it is. “Ah, ok. Well…I guess I’ll see you then.” You back out of the room, almost running when you’re out of his sight. Catching your breath in your room, confusion floods your mind. Did you do something wrong? Is he tired of having you here? All you can do is wait and wonder until tonight.

And tonight comes much too fast. You find yourself stumbling into the theater room, meeting Johnny’s eyes as you walk in. But he seems much happier. Maybe he was just tired after work. As you get settled, a bag of snacks next to your leg. As Johnny starts the movie and turns the lights down, you start to get nervous. What if he’s mad at you? He is pretty rich, if he wants you dead, it wouldn’t take long.

But Johnny sits next to you, settling down and looking towards you. You try not to look at him, fearing that you might meet a cold gaze. Unable to stop yourself though, your eyes meet his. The weird look is still there, no longer hidden under sunglasses and smiles. Ever the considerate movie-watcher, he leans in to whisper in your ear. “So, did you have a good day? It must get lonely here.” Trying to stay calm, you whisper back, “It was ok, I can’t complain. Was your day ok?”

“Yeah, more progress made on my movie. Studios are eating it up. But…” He pauses, looking at the screen shortly before looking back to you. “I did see a very interesting movie on break.” Turning fully, you look at him confusedly. What in the hell was he talking about? “Oh yeah? What was it?”

“Well, you know, I do have cameras set up like everywhere, right?”

Oh shit.

Your entire face drops, frozen in shock. You finally remember the fun you had earlier on the couch. The watched feeling finally makes sense. “O-oh…” You stumble over yourself trying to think of excuses. This is humiliating. But Johnny doesn’t falter like you. He pauses the movie, reaching his hand out and taking yours to pull your focus back to him.

“You put on quite a show for me, you know?” You finally recognize the look in his eyes. It’s intense curiosity and...lust? “Only wish I knew what you were thinking about. Care to enlighten me?” He leans slightly closer, hot breath fanning over you. Swallowing hard, you try to avoid his intense stare. “I-I wasn’t thinking. I was just…bored?” He laughs slightly, holding your other hand. “Really? I was sorta hoping you were thinking of me, but that’s a little selfish, huh?”

“H-huh? What? Do…do you think of me like that?” You fluster further at his words. “Maybe…does that bother you?” He falters slightly, realizing that he might be making you uncomfortable. But you can't stop yourself from blurting out, “No! It doesn't bother me. I-” Cutting you off, Johnny leans in closer, lips an inch apart. “Then what's the problem?” You swallow hard, eyes rapidly moving back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, and finally answer.

“I just don't know what to do when fantasy becomes reality.”

Luckily for you, Johnny knows.

He closes the distance between you two, kissing you like your life depended on it. You wrap your hands behind his neck and lean back, pulling him impossibly closer. Your tongues dance against each other, lips crashing. Suddenly, you get a surge of confidence, one that defies your previous apprehension. One of your hands slips down his chest slowly, inching along until you reach his growing bulge. He pulls back slightly, panting and staring directly into your eyes. “H-hey now, you’re not playing fair,” he manages to get out, slightly whining at your touch. 

“You started it, watching me like that,” you whisper in his ear, fingers slowly rubbing along his waistband. He gasps lightly, head turning away from you. “You liked it, right? Did you touch yourself watching it?” Your fingers move further past his waist, inching towards his cock. “C’mon, you can tell me,” your voice almost sing-songy and teasing. He manages to stutter out a shaky “y-yeah” as you continue down. But you suddenly stop, much to his disappointment.

Instead, you move to kneel in between his legs, looking up at him with sultry eyes. He looks slightly confused until you undo his pants button. Biting his lip, he watches you with intense, pleading eyes. You lean up, taking the zipper of his fly in your mouth and undoing it. He looks like he could honestly cum right now, but you won't let him. As you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springs up, the tip angry and weeping. He blushes at the sight of himself like this and you, looking up at him with his hard dick right in front of you.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, stroking him a few times. You just want to watch him squirm and squirm he does. He is whining, head turning back and forth, with one hand on his thigh and the other over his mouth. You kiss the underside, looking up at him through your lashes. With a muffled moan, he looks away again, face scrunching up in concentration and pleasure. Slowly licking at the tip, watching as he continues unraveling, you finally take him in your mouth. You fit as much as you can at first, reveling in the loud gasp you earn from him. You continue a relentless pace, gently massaging his balls as well. 

This pleasure is intense for Johnny, so much so that he’s starting to tear up, eyes welling up as he holds back as many sounds as he can. But that only lasts so long as you lift your head off him, taking a deep breath and rasping out, “Do you wanna come, baby? Huh? Then come on, fuck my face like a good boy.” 

You go further down this time, causing him to jump at the feeling. Scurried hands grab at your head as he's bent forward, bucking at a frenzied pace. Loud, slutty moans roll from his lips as he loses himself in the feeling. And as you kneel there, trying to stay there for as long as possible, you feel yourself growing wetter. You did this to him, got him so riled up that he could barely control himself. Amongst his hurried moves, you manage to push past your gag reflex and fully take his entire cock down your throat. A loud, long breathy moan is all Johnny can get out as he almost immediately cums at the feeling. Focusing on holding your breath until you can no longer feel him pulsing in your throat, you savor his sounds, his whines, whimpers, moans.

As you move up, taking a deep breath, you admire him in the lowlights. His face flushed and sweaty, eyes rolled back in his head, usually perfect hair messed up. Beautiful. But he only stays like that for so long, because you move up to kiss him. As if his body is reacting without him thinking, he wraps one hand behind your back and uses one to tangle in your hair. After a short kiss, he pulls away. You manage to half-whisper “That was quite a show you put on,” chuckling afterward.

Johnny lazily motions for you to sit next to him, and you oblige. But before you’re even fully down, he's on you, kissing and pulling you closer. Now it's his turn to tease, fingers traveling under your shirt to play with your nipples. You let out light gasps at the feeling, as Johnny starts to bite and suck at your neck.

Mumbling against your skin, you can hear him say, “I'll give you a show.” He manages to pull your shirt off before you even realize what's happening, his eyes still desperate and wanting. He has no grace or subtlety as he pulls your pants and underwear off, he doesn't want to wait any longer than he has to. Shrugging his shirt and pants fully off, he stares at you intensely. He moves a finger to swipe across your wetness, knees buckling slightly as he feels you. He leans in against your chest, beginning to beg. “Please, please, I wanna be inside you, love. I wanna give you a real show, show how good I can be. Please?” God, he's kind of pathetic like this. It's hot.

With a quick nod, he springs up. He wastes no time as he practically lifts you and turns you around. Now, with your hands grasping the back of your seat and ass in the air, Johnny leans over you and presses against your back. Kissing between your shoulder blades, he slowly moves his hips to yours, cock gently rubbing against your wet pussy. Unable to control himself, his hips buck at the sensation, earning a groan from both of you. Face still against your back, you feel him lightly bite you, trying to ground himself. 

Finally, he manages to calm himself, standing up and taking a deep breath. After a pause, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly. With a long whine, he manages to bury himself inside you, pausing to adjust. With a strained voice, he quietly says, “Oh god, you feel so good, squeezing against my cock like that. I’m already sensitive, you know.” After a short pause, he starts to move, mesmerized by the way your ass bounces against him. “Shit, I should’ve fucked you earlier. I’ve been missing out,” he manages to get out as he speeds up, reveling in the way you mewl under him.

He’s moving at a breakneck pace now, gripping your hips desperately, and sputtering out praise. Without slowing, his hands shoot out, wrapping around your neck and grabbing your jaw. He’s using your head as leverage, but he manages to fuck you even deeper. He gently turns your head to the back corner of the theater, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention. “See right there? That’s where the camera is. Go ahead, put on a show, baby.” Despite his confident words, his voice is higher than normal and breathy. His words shoot straight to your dripping pussy, clenching even tighter around him. His hips buck in as he laughs slightly. “You like that? You like being my own personal pornstar? Then come on, let me see it. Get louder, these mics only pick up so much. Don’t hold back, yeah?” 

You decide that he’s getting a little too cocky, and decide to shut him up a bit. Moaning out obscenities, you begin to bounce back against him. His hands shoot back to your hips, using you to stabilize himself. Gone are his confident words, replaced with the most gorgeous whimpers you’ve ever heard. His head dips lower, resting once again against your upper back. You can hear his quiet whispers of “Oh fuck” repeated over and over again like a prayer.

With scrambling fingers that dart under you, he starts to play with your clit, bouncing at the same rhythm of his thrusts. “What fun is it if I’m the only one cumming? Besides…” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I studied the game tape.” He begins moving in circles, and suddenly it’s like you’re fucking him for the 50th time. He knows exactly where and what feels good, what directions, and how much pressure to use. But you have no time to wonder how many times he watched you before his hips started snapping in shaky thrusts. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, and with the energy you have left, you decide to put on a major finale. Head tipped back, you begin pleading with him, crying out, “Please come for me, please, please. You’ve done such a good job, I need it, I need you, please please please…” Unable to hold back, he cums with a harsh final thrust. But even in the throws pleasure, he manages to continue to play with your clit. You cum shortly after him, he whines at the feeling of you spasming around his extremely sensitive cock. He slowly pulls out, taking a long second to admire the sight of you bent over and dripping arousal.

He guides you into the chair, helping you sit down and catch your breath. He sits next to you, snuggling into your side and planting his face against your neck. He breathes deep, inhaling your scent and kissing lightly against your sensitive skin. He manages to mumble into your neck, looking up with sweet, half-lidded eyes, “So...there’s about 56 cameras in the house. You mind sticking around for an extra few weeks?”

[wannabepoeticischiya]

in the wake of stars... there, we remain

Do you wish to know the horrible truth? When I close my eyes, her memory does not resurface. I cannot remember her laugh, or even tell apart her voice. All that remains is the waking thought that she was the only woman I ever loved—the only thing I ever wanted. And the Abyss took her away from me. The gods took her away from me! And all the time in the universe—all the power this world has to offer—couldn't fill the void she left behind.

ao3: in the wake of stars... there, we remain pairing: capitano x f! reader genre: angst, romance wc: 16k status: one shot art by: C50spicy

“Granny!”

“Freminet! Don’t call her that—”

A soft chuckle echoed in the closed room, halting the chastise the magician was about to bestow on his younger brother.

“It’s quite alright, Lyney. I’m sure little Freminet meant no harm.” A pair of blackened hands patted the young boys’ heads, the blue veins marring the skin contrasting with the oceans of blond threads.

Despite Freminet’s endearment of the woman, no sign of aging was visible on her youthful face. A stranger might even proclaim her as an older sister to the infamous Knave of the House of Hearth. But the only thing stopping them from doing so was the darkened skin tracing from under her left ear all the way to the horizons of her forehead.

“Can you tell us the story again? Please?” The little blond diver sat near the woman’s feet, looking up at her with big beady eyes—one which always proved difficult to refuse, even for their ‘Father’.

“Only if you promise not to call me an old lady again.” She playfully bargains with the child, although… [Name] wouldn’t really mind either way. “Now, gather around.” She ushers the children to move closer to her, for which they happily obliged.

A rhythmic song echoed in the bowels of her soul as she silently watched the children talk amongst one another, a joy she knew could only live here… in this home, in this time, with them, and nowhere else.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom under the golden sea, there lived a knight, brave, righteous, and kind as they could be. And this knight, he loved no one else but the woman who threw flowers at strangers with glee.

The citizens loved this knight, and everyone wanted to be acquainted with him. But this knight lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me…

“Haven’t I already told you to get lost?”

Cradled under a dome of a million stars, a noble lady stood far on the far side of the balcony, gazing down with fiery eyes at the knight looking up at her from below. Threads of [h/c] swayed by the eternal gale that rounded the kingdom every after-dark, ruffling the violet and golden garments she wore oh so devotedly—a striking contrast to him who wore clothes darker than the void itself.

“Ah, well—” his voice echoes in the silence of twilight, hopeful at best, painted as desperate for the woman on the loggia.

“My answer remains the same, Captain.”

Before the Captain could raise another protest, a plea for her to reconsider, the lady peered over the balustrade, angered at his stubbornness, “No.”

She could not wrap her head around his insistence, at first finding it admirable before it morphed to be unbearable. Many times had she told him off:

‘I must refuse your proposal, my lord’

‘I’m honored, really, but I cannot accept’

‘Surely, a maiden far fairer than me would most wholeheartedly embrace your affections’.

One would think that after three rejections, he would relent.

At one point, she believed him to have raised the white flag, given that he had ceased his advancement for a full fortnight.

That is until she ran into him at the plaza one fateful afternoon. Finding him surrounded by a sea of people both of highborn and low, militia and serpent knights, harboring him affection and regard.

The shadow of her presence was enough to stop their banters, the weight of her name parting the ocean of people, and before her… was a path that led right to him.

Snapping out of the memory, she is reminded that the object of her daydreams was still perched upon the street below her awaiting an acceptance that the lady swore would never come, even if he is a knight. “Now, if you will be so kind as to step aside—”

“My lady…”

A sharp stare silenced the Commander’s tongue, forcing him to freeze where he stands, burning the remnants of his thoughts. All that remained was the echo of her voice, the light reflecting off her eyes, the presence of her soul. He wouldn’t have minded staying rooted there for the rest of the evening, shackled to that post until the end of his time, so long as she would be near. A call away, just over the wall, looking at him from the panes of her windows.

“Please move out of the way, Capitano. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The Commander, as if time began to march slower, saw her marching towards the archway that would lead her indoors, and before he could detain his tongue—his thoughts had run past his better judgement.

“Throwing flowers at passersby hardly seems to be of urgency.”

[Name] let out a scoff of disbelief, swiping away her hand that held the doorknob and turned to march back towards the balcony, peering down at him with all the disdain in the cosmos. The nerve of this—this… “A lot more concerning than having you propose another time when my take on the matter will not change. Now, move out of the way before I throw a pot at you.”

“But why?”

The lady looked at him cynically, was he asking in accordance with his repeated rejection or for the threat of the pot? She would be happy to indulge in the latter, but [Name] knew that the ever-righteous Captain was not one to act like a fool… yet he continued to play the jester with her.

“Are we really going over this again?” She looks at him in exasperation, internally wondering how he rose to such power when he was stubborn as a mule. “Have you forgotten where you stand? I am a lady of the house [L/n], you are a Commander for the knights. Do you really dare have me be insulted by it all? Let me remind you again: from the moment we met all those years ago, when you had so brazenly declared to me that you would take arms and fight the heavens, your conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you will be the last man I’d ever be prevailed upon to marry. And I would rather dine on the scraps of field tillers and cross the seven seas with no leverage than be courted by the likes of you. Good day.”

Capitano stared at her retreating figure, counting that as the fifth attempt to court her that month. And the overall hundredth rejection for the last five, or was it seven, years? Every time she turned down his advancements it had him motivated to do more, to be more, become better.

Because in his eyes… there was no greater blessing, no greater honor than to love her.

[Name] who offered him cakes and cookies down by the gardens all those summers ago, the one who ran down the streets to welcome him back, the little lady who pushed the swing when he sat alone by the playground. [Name] who supported his dream of knighthood, the lady who dressed his wounds, who wiped his tears, parted his lips so he could breathe.

I’d be the last man she’d ever be prevailed upon to marry… she didn’t say she’d never marry me—just that I’m her last option.

Even if the same [Name] now sneers at all things related to him and his status as a commander.

A foolish smile carved its way onto his face, eyes as deep as the depths of the ocean shining in delight at the newfound hope.

There’s still a chance!

But love didn’t come easy for the knight, no matter the ardency of his feelings, the sincerity of his soul, nor the patience in his heart. The lady simply turned a blind eye to him—

“That’s awful! Mr. Knight must be very sad.” A little girl cried while her friend tried to console her by rubbing her back, the sight tugging at the seams of [Name]’s heart.

“Indeed, how cruel the lady must have been.” She agrees gently, curling a fistful of fabric under her touch, suppressing the urge to just run outside and comb the earth to make it all right. How cowardly was I to have shunned your affection for so long…

Not long after, one of the older kids spoke her piece, “If a knight as chivalrous as him had loved me, I would never let him go, not even for all the mora in the world.”

For a few arbitrary seconds, [Name] is left at a loss for words.

Perhaps it’s the curse taking effect or maybe it’s the regret clawing from the depths of her eroding soul. Still, it remained clear that the young lady’s words were something she wished she had lived by all those centuries ago.

“Nor I.” [Name] concedes, acknowledging the boldness—the genuineness—of the child’s declaration with a look of understanding.

But no matter how we wish to change our fate, to pave a way for a better tomorrow, a waking moment where we aren’t suffocated by the crushing weight of regret—that was all they could remain as: wishes.

It didn’t matter how ardently we pray for it to be true, how earnestly we chant so we could forge it into being… because when the dust settles and the moon is at rise, only then we’ll know…

“You see, children, to speak of love is an easy task, even the most vicious of people can do it. But to wait and prove that it’s true—even when there is no guarantee of getting loved in return, that is an act of faithfulness that cannot be accomplished by everyone. It takes merely a few seconds to profess love, but doing it takes more than a lifetime. And to find someone eager to spend that time with you… is a blessing that not everyone is fortunate enough to receive.”

…that some tales are not fated for a happy ending.

The children looked at her in amazement, no matter the blights of her curse on her skin—how it can easily depict her a monster—Lady [Name] is still one of the kindest people they have ever been lucky enough to meet.

Love didn’t come in all the shades of the rainbow as the lady had hoped. Love didn’t come dressed in willingness as the knight assumed.

Perhaps, in their hearts, they knew.

Sometimes, love can come painted like a summer night: dark as it comes but scattered with a hundred million stars. Sometimes, love is cloaked in hesitance: a gentle wave by the shores dyed with the warmth of a thousand suns.

And sometimes… love appears in forms we least expect it to take.

“You turned him down? The Captain? The Commander of the Serpent Knights? The Captain?”

A young woman paced around the room, struggling to accept the story her friend told her only moments prior.

“Yes, Peruveere, I did.”

[Name] rolled her eyes at the other person’s restless mumbling, continuously taking apart the petals from the flowers. And as if sensing the follow-up questions of her inquisitive friend, [Name] quickly attached the rest of her answers not a breath later, “Yes, the Captain. Yes, the Commander of the Serpent Knights. Yes, the Captain. And yes, Il-Capitano, the ever-righteous, strong and brave, nigh-invincible Captain. I turned him down just as I had the previous time he asked, and the time before that, as well as all the other advances he had made. And I will continue to do so if he keeps insisting. It will not change.”

She tore another petal away from the stem, not sparing a single glance at the other lady currently losing her marbles over the simple matter of [Name]’s rejection of matrimony.

“But why?”

[Name] tore her eyes away from the busy streets and looked over her shoulder to her friend with a stare of utter disbelief, as though she, herself, could not wrap her head around the question directed at her. [Name] could not choose which one of her inner turmoils would best fit the situation at hand: ‘You know why’, was one, and ‘I cannot, in my wildest dreams, believe that you would really ask me that’, was another. Though it seemed that no matter the choice, it still would not be enough to convey the entirety of her plight.

“I know that look, missy.” Peruveere narrowed her cross-marked eyes at [Name], drawing lines in the air as if it would raise the stakes of an imaginary court to accuse her further. “Your thoughts are all over your face! Peruveere, you’re a fool to ask me that—a lunatic to even ask why—I question to this day why I am friends with someone as empty-headed as you.”

The obsidian of her hair shone under the golden light of the artificial sun, casting away the shadows of the locks of her hair that were colored in ivory.

“Those are your words, my friend, not mine.” [Name] smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to face the fuming lady before her. “You know me, Peruveere, nothing in this world can persuade me into matrimony. If you wish to be tied to that man so very much, why don’t you marry him instead?” she offered, smiling faintly at the prospect of having to get rid of that persistent knight.

Peruveere scoffed at the idea, waving a hand in the air as though it would scatter her friend’s ridiculous suggestions.

Soon after, her expression morphed into something far too difficult for [Name] to interpret, “One day, [Name], you will wake up with your head in your hands and realize how wrong you were, and you will wish to have done things differently. You will wish that you loved him a little earlier so you could have loved him longer. And you will hear the echoes that my foresight was correct. The way I endeavored to inform you will come into light, and after all of that is said and done, only then will I trust that my earlier warning has been understood—"

[Name] let out a sound of alarm at the near cursing her friend was speaking, now it was her turn to wave her hands in the air as though it would rid of the baleful prescience. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

Peruveere ignored [Name]’s superstitions and instead opted to convey her thoughts on all the privileges that [Name] would possess once she is married to the Commander.

“Every noble lady in the kingdom wants to be wed to Capitano! He’s got it all, you know, titles, wealth, power, influence—” Peruveere listed off his qualities from the tips of her fingers, explaining how each one of them would be beneficial to her and what it could mean for the years to come. Peruveere droned on and on until she finished at least ten laps on both hands, and [Name]’s ears were on the verge of caving in from how many times that brooding man’s name left the lips of her friend.

“And as your bestest, greatest, most fabulous, not to mention only friend, I have to root for you! I must! You two are practically born of the same soul! And to address your previous statement, no, I will not marry him on your behalf. Capitano is not what I look for in a man, he wears too much black, his friend on the other hand, oh my Dainsleif—hey! Where are you going?”

Peruveere quickly traced the steps of her departing friend, not quite finished with listing off the reasons why [Name] should accept the Commander’s proposal.

[Name] reckons Peruveere could never understand.

She wasn’t present at the time. She wasn’t even part of [Name]’s life when it all came crashing down. So how could Peruveere understand why rejecting Capitano hurts [Name] more than it did him? Especially when he was so persistent, so dedicated, treating her feelings as though being at the receiving end of it was an honor far higher than the heavens. Especially because he does all of that.

Capitano gave it all… and it was being wasted when she could not bring herself to return it despite every inch of her soul begging her to do so.

“A place where I won’t hear another mention of that man’s name—” [Name] saw Peruveere brace herself to question and quickly snuffed it out, “—or his accomplishments, his power, his oh-so-handsome visage, or anything even remotely related to him!” [Name] yelled, sick of all the iterating questions of why when she had already been so clear of her intentions. Peruveere, mother, even my sisters… all asking the same thing, and no matter my answer, they still won’t relent.

“[Name]…”

She snapped out of her thoughts, the consequence of her action hitting her with full force as she looked at the stupefied expression on her friend’s face. “Peruveere—I… I apologize, I did not mean to—”

Peruveere caught the hand that was reaching out to her, encasing them fully in warmth as she gazed at [Name] in a kind light. “No, I should be the one to apologize, [Name]. I shouldn’t have pushed you too far. If you don’t wish to speak about him or hear of his person, then I won’t tell of him at all.”

Peruveere’s patience ate at [Name]’s heart, flooding it with guilt. Words said on a whim that hurt her friend’s heart when all she ever wanted to do was ensure that [Name] could live with someone by her side.

Perhaps Peruveere did understand. Maybe she understood far more than [Name] could have.

“If only my family was as accepting as you.” [Name] could only smile at her kindness, squeezing the hand that held hers.

The two friends laughed at the thought knowing well that the heavens would fall before the great house of [L/n] weakens their immovable resolve. [Name]’s lineage wasn’t exactly known for being one of the friendly fellows of the kingdom, with their emotionless fronts, and closely guarded connections, it proved to be difficult to even just see one of their own walking down the streets as leniently as [Name] did. Their headstrong attitudes and unrelenting tendencies to stop at nothing to get what they wanted drove any and all coming acquaintances away.

It was a miracle that [Name] even had Peruveere for this long.

“I just… don’t wish to be unhappy all my life.” [Name] admits sadly, choosing to look at the dust littered on the cobblestone path.

“What do you mean?”

The chatters of everyday life seemed to blend in with all the colors of Khaenri'ah, until all that remained was the echo of the man loved by all… and yet loved only her.

She laughs and caught Peruveere’s stare with a net of fear—frightened of the uncertainty that came with a person like Il-Capitano. “I hear what people say about him, too, you know. The ever-righteous Captain, the nigh-invincible Captain, the brave and fearless Captain.”

“All good traits, are they not?”

[Name] gave her a pained stare, “When people put him in that light, he is. Yet all the same, it paints him in a different color… like he’s so far away. Don’t you fear that someone possessing such unprecedented righteousness is a latent danger? How… how could someone like that ever truly live? Will he ever truly confide? What if I am the embodiment of all that he detests—everything he cannot accept? Could he still bring himself to love me just as he proclaims?”

“You have yet to know that, [Name].” Peruveere shook her head, trying to coax her friend out of the spiralling doubt, “It isn’t fair to put assumptions on him when you haven’t given him the chance to act on how he really feels. He loves you. For eight long years he’s proven it, practically reformed the heavens so his adoration for you could be caged by the finiteness of this world!”

[Name] denied her friend’s suggestion, finding it too farfetched to be bled into reality.

How could she bring herself to believe his sentiments to be true when the prime of his promises to her had been broken from the moment he turned his back on her that fateful night?

I want to love you, I really do… but what would become of me if I gave it all to you once more? I know it’s tiring to love—to wait. I know I’m not the only one drowning in this ocean of grief when a thousand others were subjected to the same heartache.

But why does it feel like such a sin to love you now?

I don’t know how I’ll free myself from this fear—this soul-binding fear of leaving it all behind.

“Love is an illusion, Peruveere. We believe it because we haven’t seen what’s beyond that. That just as easily as you claim it to be true, it is just as easily gone—taken away before we know it.”

Because what if I did do it—leave everything behind? And what if beyond that, you will leave me, too?

Peruveere sighed in surrender. [Name] spoke words of fear, sentiments plunged in the depths of heartache, a great many things to project hostility but they all meant one thing: come and save me—if you truly love me, take me away from here. That much she understood, it was [Name] who was blinded by her shadows who remained cloaked in ignorance.

“But he might prove you wrong if you give him a chance.”

At her words, [Name] raised her head to look at her, and Peruveere took it as a sign to continue.

“Tell him of your grievances, what makes you happy, the things that upset you. Perchance you might find him a lot more flattering than he does you. He isn’t asking you for a thousand chances [Name], just one.”

‘Can I escort you to town, my lady?’

‘May I have the next dance, Lady [Name]?’

‘Please, do me the honor of accepting my hand.’

“And what if it doesn’t work?” She whispers, feeling the tears prickle at the back of her eyes.

Peruveere smiles, caressing the hills of her cheeks, “You’d be surprised at how often it does.”

The lady found herself tracing the paths of the past. How the pillars of her fear formed the walls that guard her frail heart. Underneath the mountains of rejection, blanketed by years' worth of injustice, numbed by the unrelenting march of time, there existed a version of her… who had once loved the knight more than there were stars in the sky.

“Are you so ugly that you have to hide behind a canvas of the evening sky?”

The masked squire pivoted on his heel, nearly swatting her head off clean with the wooden practice sword.

“Whoa—hey!”

A flock of birds flew away from the volume of her voice, shaking the foliage bordering the courtyard. A gentle breeze swayed between the falling leaves, scattering a palette of white and yellow petals in their wake, painting upon the once-green lands with their hue.

Domed by the artificial Khaenri'ahn sky, a young lady and a young boy stood face to face. One with a soul as radiant as the stars in the heavens crouching down to cover her head, and another dyed in the color of the midnight sun, entranced by her abrupt advent.

As if realizing the silence left by their strange encounter, the masked boy quickly got down on one knee and struggled to find the words to say, fearful that he might be offending a prominent figure in court. “I apologize, my lady. I did not mean to endanger you in any way.”

The young woman, as though struck by the reminder of their difference in status, quickly gathered herself: pulling her figure from the ground, patting away the micro spectacle of dust that had managed to touch her expensive dress.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, every bit of her mannerisms hinting that she was not used to interacting in such a formal fashion—as though she was not used to interacting at all! She took a peek at his still kneeling form, not finding him the least bit familiar, he must be new. She memorized the slouch in his shoulders, the hesitation in his movements, the threads of obsidian hair protruding from under his ridiculous helmet.

“You are pardoned, please rise.”

A younger version of [Name] stood before the young boy.

“You are most kind, my lady.”

The one who would soon be known as Capitano.

The lady, curious of his reasons for hiding his face, went by the gardens to pursue an answer. Unfailingly, for three full moons and a crescent, she sought out his company. Finding even the most mundane questions of everyday life directed at him, yet the prime interest she had was not answered until the first fall of the snow.

“I hope you like the cakes. The helpers in the kitchen always seem to make far too much of it,” the young lady walked around the edge of the winter wonders, watching as the young knight trained even under the descent of the cold. “And because no one wants to share them with me, I am left to enjoy them all.”

The young knight, ever so subtly, turned his head in her direction, a small gesture to let her know that despite his straining routines he would always make room for the things she had to share.

“I’m glad to be the one who shares them with you, my lady.”

[Name] caught herself smiling at the knight, feeling as the flames stemmed from her racing heart all the way to the horizons of her fingertips, casting fire to the hills of her cheeks, the bowels of her soul—the embers in her mind.

No words followed those fleeting sentences, only the breaths of a diligent knight, and a lady brimmed with adoration. The heavens falling to witness the waltz of two souls, dancing to the melody of a tune made to bind for all eternity.

The knight ceased his practice, drawing nearer to the lady waiting by the steps.

She could have watched him from the balcony, or not at all yet here… in this place shrouded with the harshness of winter, closer to where he was—there, she stayed.

He began to wonder, when did I begin to see like this? As though all of the heavens and the earth only came into being so they could hold you. What greatness did I do… that I am worthy to behold you? That I am so fortunate to have existed in a time—a place where I could love you as much as I desired?

Driven by the intensity of his emotions, the knight turned his back and began to walk away from her.

The lady, unsure of what to make of it all, snickered under her breath. [Name] found his behavior strangely endearing, to think one of the most skilled in knighthood could have been rendered flustered just by the thoughts running in his head was something not even the greatest of alchemists could conjure.

With a small laugh, [Name] stepped a foot into the snow followed by another, slowly tracing the footprints the knight in front of her had carved into the winter treasures.

The knight, who had initially only intended to break away for a few seconds, took notice of the way his lady had started to walk upon the path he made. With a smile of his own, he began to take wider steps, knowing that she would surely start to struggle.

[Name] had to leap in her step to continue her little fun, but the added distance in the interval of his steps along with the weight of her clothes had her stumbling a few moments later.

The young knight, ever so quick in his steps, turned with swift haste, catching her in his arms before she could hit the snowy ground.

A different object, however, had fallen into the snow.

“Oh,” Her breath was painted white from the cold, yet her eyes reflected the deep blues of the irises that looked to her with such ardent affection. “You aren’t ugly.”

But stars did not shine, they burned. And just as quickly did the snow thaw, the reality of their distant worlds had dawned on them. Lightning painted the canvas of their skies, ripping it open for the rain to fall—dousing the embers of their adoration for one another.

“Please… I beg you, do not go.” An older lady clung to the cloths of a man’s armor, hugged by the artificial lights of the Khaenri'ahn sky… the two lovers held onto one another as though it was their last day on this land.

The man touched the lady’s cheeks, ridding the mar of silver water racing down the canvas of her face. “I must, my dear. It is my duty.”

The Serpent Knights have been called to defend the borders of the kingdom from the ill-will of the abyss. A duty that was promised honor, gratitude, and legacy whether they emerged victorious or not—whether they returned breathing or not at all.

[Name]’s father was a knight bestowed the rank Captain, prestige that came with the comfort of wealth, and the oath of power. But for her mother, who loved her husband dearly, all it came with was the looming danger, the never-ending saga of fearing for his life.

And even if [Name] was still beyond the sense of maturity, she could piece apart that much.

Many words were exchanged by her mother and father, promises of eternity, a love to last a thousand lifetimes and a thousand more after that, that her mother only needed to wait—wait, and surely, her husband would return to her.

Yet as selfish as it sounds, even if oaths were broken and lives were lost, her mother didn’t want her father to go.

“It is also your duty to stay by your family’s side! We need you—I… I need you.”

“But the people need me more.”

[Name] who was watching from behind a towering pillar, looked at her father in disbelief, feeling as the little crevices in her heart began to rip its surface clean. Silently coming to terms with the truth that knights and all that they were associated with will always, unfailingly, put their duty above any other.

The real world was not like the stories her father had told her. Knights do not stay with the people they love when a kingdom is in threaten for ruin… they go out there and fight for the kingdom they had sworn to protect.

Even if it cost them their lives.

Even if the price paid for a momentary tranquility is the anguish of a broken heart, a wife’s grief for the loss of a husband, a daughter’s heart shattered to a million irreparable pieces at the loss of a father, a family torn apart so another could live completely.

And as if the universe wanted to play, [Name] found herself looking into the abyssal canvas of his face on the far side of the courtyard, almost as if she was asking him the same request as her mother did to her father.

‘Don’t go…’

But she knew that this righteous knight, the ever so brave recruit, the nigh-invincible young Capitano was the same as her honorable father.

Even if the price paid for a momentary equanimity was the silence of a lover, the heartache of a soul left alone in the world, a heart once entrusted to the hands of those who had sworn never to break it, shattered by the same hands.

Because that was the price you paid for loving a knight.

The weight of the years numbed the pain, and the tears had blurred the memories. Yet all the same, it proved that no matter how deep the valley that severed their ties, it could not hide the lingering affection littering the oceans of their skies.

"Oh, Il-Capitano~ Commander of the Royal Army."

“We have most patiently awaited your safe return.”

“What an honor it is to have someone like you in the kingdom’s service.”

Nobilities and common people alike gushed at the arrival of the esteemed commander. One enshrouded in the colors of the night, with what looked like the heaviest coat in all of mankind draped over his shoulders.

He marched through the gates of the kingdom perched atop his tall, midnight steed. And as if feeling her drilling stare, that faceless helmet turned to gaze in her direction. A simple gesture, one which a stranger could have passed as nothing but a meaningless movement, but to [Name]… she knew, that it meant more to the knight than the praises sung at his name.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the sadness clawing its way out of her soul. [Name] would have taken any other explanation, any other reason, so long as it wasn’t the one forcing its way through her throat.

For a fleeting second, everything had crumbled away. In the place of that tall, imposing, broad-shouldered knight was a younger boy, one whose eyes looked far too hesitant to urge the stallion forward, his form was slouched, often kneeling before her, he who had promised the world.

Yet when she blinked, both figures were gone, one buried under the weight of time, and the other marching forward, once again turning his back on her.

No longer a young, naïve, lovestruck squire but a revered commander, righteous, brave, and powerful.

Rumors in the plaza spoke about how the Commander never smiled, or that there was nothing in his life other than his duty and the endless battles against the abyss. But the conversation that sparked about the most was the mystery behind his mask.

Others spoke that his face had been scarred by his countless conquests that he had no choice but to hide it from his enemies, while some say that he was born unfortunate in the department of looks therefore forcing him to wear such a thing to shield his deformed face from the eyes of the public.

But [Name] knew otherwise.

“Isn’t this exciting, [Name]?” Her friend, Peruveere, looks to her with eager eyes.

The young lady was a descendant of the previous dynasty, named Crimson Moon. Peruveere was the one who had so boldly claimed to be her friend after [Name] had thrown a fistful of flowers at her by accident.

[Name] shrugged and pretended to be indifferent to it all, forcing herself to look away as she felt his stares burn holes into her very being. "Eh, I've fallen witness to better."

That was a lie, of course.

The only one that could ever hope to best him in anything was himself, and [Name] was sure that the ever so charming Il-Capitano, Commander of the Royal Army, knew that for himself. But [Name] would rather eat all the snow in her courtyard than have to admit that to his face or anyone for that matter.

"The cats loitering the streets would hiss at you for saying that. Even they admire Capitano." Peruveere shook [Name] back and forth as she eagerly watched as the fleet of soldiers march back to the palace grounds.

[Name] tried to ignore the incessant beatings of her heart at the mention of his name. One which she hasn’t spoken in a long, long while.

"He looks far more miserable since the last I saw him." She unconsciously whispers, tracing the outlines of his shadows until his figure is nothing but a speck in the far-off distance.

Then again, how long has it been since I last saw you? Certainly not long enough!

"Perhaps it's because you keep declining him." Peruveere perks, smiling pointedly at [Name] who was still looking in the direction of the castle.

The lady let out a bitter chuckle, of course, I’d never marry him!

Capitano returned to her all those moons ago, nearly after three years, he returned.

But by then, her heart had come to realize the weight of his promises. That next to his duties, they meant absolutely nothing.

"Oh, woe. His poor soul." She emptily comments, finally tearing her gaze away from the reminder of his broken oaths.

"Please, [Name]. Miserable, yes. But poor he most certainly is not." Peruveere hooks an arm with [Name] and dragged her to descend the steps of her balcony.

"Do tell, Peruveere." [Name] rolls her eyes at her friend's antics, with half a mind listening to her ramble on and on about the oh-so-amazing Capitano, as they walked the now-empty streets to the plaza.

"All that power and wealth to his name and he commands half the Royal Army." Peruveere boasts as though speaking about that man made his achievements hers as well.

She really does hold that… man in high regard.

"The miserable half?" [Name] jests, leaving a fuming noble lady on the side of the street.

And so, tired of the longing glances and hearing the rhythm of two souls crying for one another, the heavens had moved to have it ceased…

Far into the depths of the night, when the trees slept and the lands were blanketed in silence, [Name] found herself standing by the steps that led to a courtyard.

Although this time, the space before her was covered with blades of grass and blossoming flora, the breeze was not sharp but rather a gentle lull in the ever-growing warmth of the season—a great contrast to a time when this place was riddled with cold, covered in his footsteps, thriving in the words he had no intention of keeping.

‘My lady,’ he whispers, drawing nearer to her. Close enough that his breath tangled with hers as the warmth of his hand draped over the hills of her reddened cheeks. ‘My heart calls your name, unfailingly, every night. My soul desires to see you—far too much that it has my gaze lingering in everything that reminds me of you. Each day, this feeling in me grows and I fear that the skies can no longer house them.’

‘I love you, [Name]… most ardently, please allow me the honor of staying by your side—’

“[Name].”

The sudden call broke the young lady from her daydreams. She turned hastily to meet the tired eyes looking straight at her.

“Mother.”

With the golden light of the chandelier seeping past the windowpanes, the scenery before her nearly resembled a painting of the heavens… except, the subject’s face was dyed in colors of loneliness—her mother’s heart died along with her father many, many years ago.

“You have a visitor.” She states plainly before tracing back her steps to enter the house once again.

[Name] furrowed her brows in confusion at who could be visiting her at this ungodly hour. Surely, Peruveere was sound asleep by now, and even if she wasn’t, her mother would never go as far as tell [Name] of her presence when she was already known by her entire family—she’s my only friend, it would be strange for them to do so.

As she stormed her brain for any other acquaintances who might be brave enough to knock on the gates of her home, the sounds of heavy footfalls and the clinking of metal chains flew past her ears.

Until a large body loomed over her fretting figure.

Even if she dared not to look, the stranger’s shadow—all broad-shouldered and imposing—already told her enough that this was no acquaintance.

Are you starving for another rejection? You really are thick-faced…

“Commander.” She greets coldly, curtsying for the sake of formality, rising once more to bravely look at the nothingness that shielded his face.

For a moment, Capitano did not know what to say, rendered speechless by the weight of reality that she really was standing in front of him. No longer crowds apart, no wall stopping him from seeing her, no meddling audience.

Just him and her, at last.

“You look well, my lady.” He smiles, although it was quickly wiped away by the steely expression still plastered on her face as well as the realization that she could not see him.

“I have no interest in making small talk with you, Commander.” [Name] looks away, turning her attention to any other thing that wasn’t the darkness in the place of his visage. “Speak of what you want and be done with it.”

A faint click resounded in the silent atmosphere followed by a small sound of something hitting the earth. Capitano decides then, that if [Name] was going to drive him away no matter his intentions, it was best to just be honest and let all this tangled mess unravel thread by thread, even if it cut and strangled him in the process.

“Your mother… desires our union.”

[Name] spun on her heels at the imprudent claim, raising a finger to point at him daringly, “By that you mean—you desire this union.”

The now unmasked knight gently shook his head in denial, taking a small piece of parchment from the insides of his cloak, one which was sealed in the sigil of her house.

In a hurried panic, the noble lady swiped the paper from his hand, and every bit of him burned at the faintest graze of her touch.

With unbattered patience, Capitano watched as her eyes traced the ink that was bled onto the paper. He was over the stars, yes, but above all else, he wanted to know… if she wished for this to come into reality.

“You schemed this.” [Name] looks to him in disbelief, a line of silver brimming the horizons of her eyes. She clutched the paper so tightly that the mountains of her knuckles had been painted white, and the parchment had nothing left to do but rip apart at the center from the intensity of her hold.

Capitano awaited her to draw nearer, pressing his lips together before he whispered, “I did not.”

“You did.” She insisted, stopping in her trails once she was close enough to look him straight in the eye. “Because why now, out of the many times I have been suave by some nobleman did my mother finally agree? To you, no less. And I mean that in every possible offense.”

His ocean eyes searched the contours of her face for any hints of remorse, traces of hesitation, creases of consideration—even the littlest of faults, he would have accepted. If she was hiding them, her true emotions, even just a speck of the love he once held in the palm of his hands, then he must let her know that she was doing a splendid job.

“Why do you detest me so?” He asks softly, unconsciously raising a hand to caress her face but before he could, [Name] had already turned away.

The lady let out a loud scoff and began to walk away from him, blatantly avoiding his questioning gaze.

Unable to hide his frustration, the knight gambled his chances. "Tell me then, that I am not wanted."

[Name] halted in her steps, still looking in the direction of the bordering trees. Desperately ignoring the echoes of a treasured memory formed once upon a time in the same place she stood upon now.

“Leave, Commander.” She says, in a tone so bitter she could almost taste it.

“Look me in the eye, My Lady.” He urges demandingly, softly— “Step forth and tell me that you no longer want me. Scream at me. Command me to step aside, show me that I am the last man in this world you could ever want to marry. Then, my heart is yours to break.”

Capitano was not one to relent, choosing to close the distance between them in a few calculated steps, standing in front of her way.

“Tell me, what I did to have warranted your aggression. I will make it right, and I swear to you that I will do no such thing to tarnish your honor or be the center of your unhappiness.”

And after many, many years, [Name] finally gathered the courage she stacked upon one another and looked him in the eyes. That same pair of irises, dyed in the colors of the ocean that haunted her every waking moment.

“You Serpent Knights and your promises. Cease them already! You know you will break them sooner or later—you always do, unfailingly. And you always will.” She seethes, hitting his chest as if doing so would make the pain in hers hurt less.

“I will not.” He counters, raising his arms to wrap around her frame.

“You will. Don’t lie to me!”

“I won’t, and I would never.”

[Name] clutched a fistful of his clothing, pulling him closer to her—far too near that one push would have his lips grazing hers. 

“Alright then, swear to me right now that you—that you will not die. That when we are wed, you will return to me no matter what—there will stand no mountain, no ocean, nor lifetimes between you and me. Swear it. Say it to me right now.”

Capitano stares at her silence, long gone was the frail young lady who adored pastries. Her eyes shone in a vibrant light, the walls around her heart falling brick by brick to allow him the honor of gazing at the years of anguish she had endured by his single mistake, the passion in her eyes burning straight through his will to speak. This was the most she had ever spoken to him.

“I… ” He whispers, desperately fighting off the urge to just draw nearer and end this agony. I love you.

“You can’t.”

[Name] laughs bitterly, freeing her hold on him and walking past his figure.

No matter the years that passed him by, Il-Capitano remains the same righteous, brave, and powerful Serpent Knight. [Name] was not about to succumb to the shackles of matrimony with the inkling thought that she be a widow once the threat of war arose. She will not go down a sinking boat. Be married to a dying man.

“That’s a big promise.” Capitano swallows the lump in his throat as he watches her walk about the garden, ever so close to walking away completely. And he had this inkling thought, if she were to leave his sight right now, he would never see her again.

‘You’re drawing the shorter end of the stick with me,’ those were her words all those years ago, when his attempts were nothing but a flickering flame. Naïve, in the kindest words; half meant, in the worst.

Still, the way she had so kindly given him a choice on the matter had him steel his resolve. How easy it must have been for her to say no, tell him off—that she wishes to never see his face again, be near his soul, or be reminded of his existence—but she didn’t.

Even if it slipped her thoughts, what she gave him all those moments ago… was a chance.

One chance. One take. One moment to make it all right.

And all of the heavens will be damned if he did not take it.

Capitano did not speak of love to her, rather he showed it with every atom of his being. In every breath he took, all the gazes he sent her way, in his lingering but persistent affection. There, right along with him… his love had existed.

[Name] remains in silence, trying to suppress the trembling of her voice. He was not one to relent, not then… and most certainly not now.

It was useless trying to get soldiers to choose their personal attachments over the good of the many. That’s why I dearly detest them. Why allow yourself to love, to make home in the heart of another… only to leave and never return?  

Capitano waited for her, even when there was no guarantee that she could love him in return.

If she would have him, he would have all the eternities to tell her he loves her.

But here, when she is not so accepting of him, he would not do it.

‘I would rather live my days as the most unfortunate man to ever come into being than to live a life where you do not know that I love you.’

And his sentiments had sought him in his every waking moment.

“But for you, anything.”

[Name]’s world came to a standstill.

Every star nestled in the depths of the cosmos had ceased their dance. Blackholes frozen mid-spin. Nebulas that scattered like clouds lulling at the echo of his words. It drifted from galaxy to galaxy, in different timelines, in every version of existence.

"I would have seized the stars for you if you asked." He continues, taking step after step to close the distance between them, a silent promise that once she allows him to be near—a place in her life where he could stay, he would never leave.

Capitano could never have fathomed the gravity of those words, pulling every world she built, the doubts, the longing, every molecule of eagerness... they collided, spun, condensed, and burst forth to resound his words for all the eternities to come.

"The stars?" She echoes.

Everything began spinning fast—too fast. The colors around her merged, blurring her surroundings until all she could see was him. 

"Taken every single one of them." He affirms, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. "I would tally the heartbeats of every single thing that has ever lived on this planet, count the grain of sands in the deserts, drain the oceans, freeze the skies—you will only ever need to ask… and I will make it so. This is how much I would love you, if you will have me. You only ever need to say one word. Speak my name, and I am yours... from now until you are sick of me, 'til the last of the embers burn out into oblivion, until life ceases to exist—even beyond the destruction of nothingness—I am yours."

She allowed him to cross the distance between them. Not raising a hand in protest when the expanse of his palm had covered the plains of her cheeks.

She didn’t utter a single rejection when he touched her forehead with his, not even when his nose brushed against hers.

"In your acceptance, and in your denial... I am yours. In death and life. In the wake of destruction and reform. In this soul—before and beyond. Yours... and no one else's."

She didn’t do anything, even when the softness of his lips had descended on the meadows of her hairline.

Capitano, her memory reminded. Oh, but how could she ever forget? Not when he was looking at her like that—like one word from her would send him to paradise. She should be the one looking at him like that.

Because as it stands, [Name] was already there—in paradise—as though his soul was the shadow that guards her everyday life, the scent of flowers that follows her like daylight… the love that soothes her heart, every time he was away.

And so, the woman set her heart free and granted the knight a chance.

The lady and the knight loved with a love that was more than love.

Affection that was far from perfect, but they were made perfect for each other.

And so… love was made perfect for us.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocky mountains filled their hearts with ease. Nothing but the serene symphonies of nature pooling within the depths of their ears.

A thousand wonders brought by autumn descended from the trees, now looking as if they were reaching for the vast, multi-painted sky above. The breeze carried the leaves dyed in shades of vermillion and gold, scattering them across the earth.

The lady’s sudden laugh broke apart the peaceful atmosphere, making his heart tremble in delight as his head ever so slightly looked to her direction.

The way the late afternoon breeze danced with the threads on her head, eyes reflecting that of the sun which sat on the hands of the seemingly never-ending ocean. Her face that looked as if a painter spilled a bucket of orange dye on it.

His deep-colored irises stared at her with wonder.

And Capitano thought to himself, how could anyone… be as lovely as her?

Feeling his gaze fall upon her, the lady tilted her head in confusion, a small yet playful smile resting upon her lips. "What are you looking at, man?"

Raising his bare hand, the knight gently rested it on her cheek, leaning in to touch her forehead with his before momentarily closing his eyes only to open them and whisper...

"I'm looking at you, woman."

The lady wondered then how she could have endured denying the knight for so long when the light of his love was something she now no longer knew how to live without. She asks the heavens for answers, and sometimes even herself if the reason she was born long ago was so she could live in this plane of existence… and be loved by him.

The day the heavens bestowed upon the land a gift so majestic and wonderful that the earth has marveled upon it ever since its descent from the gentle hands of the clouds was beginning to dawn upon them once more.

At least... to the knight who loved her dearly, it was his interpretation of the special occasion. Her birthday. He was always so dramatic, that one.

His ocean-dyed eyes stared lovingly at the lady who stood not too far from where he was currently leaning against the threshold,

The knight observed the woman from a distance. His heart free from wickedness.

Ever righteous, they spoke of him. But with her, Capitano was certain he would do unspeakable things to those who dared bring her harm. Brave, still… he feared her denial—that a day will come when she realizes she did not want him anymore. Powerful, so why did he feel no power when he stood next to her?

Why was he anything but their depictions when she was the one standing in front of him? [Name] could have seen him as anything… yet she chose to see him as he was, as Capitano. No more, and certainly no bit less.

He loved her so, even more than his own life. And his affection for her flourished like fresh spring flowers each and every single passing day.

There was just absolutely nothing about her that he couldn't adore. The little things like how she would swivel and sway with the leaves when she danced with the melody of the breeze, exclaiming that the years of arduous dance practices had finally been put to good use, or when she would hum a tune when the silence was too heavy to bear.

To the knight, everything she did represented grace and beauty in a different light. She was simply just... heavenly.

When the light of the crescent moon penetrated through the curtain of clouds, the knight knew that the awaited day has been gifted to both him and to the woman he loved.

The gentle rhythm of waves crashing against the shoreline filled the silence left by the cold evening.

As quiet and light as a feather, he approached her, draping a shawl over her shoulders before sitting right next to her on the bench.

The woman was not the least bit startled by her lover's stealthy advance, far used to it more than she would have liked to admit. In the place of caution was peace; his presence helped calm whatever disaster was brewing up within her.

And ever so subtly, his warm fingers interlaced with her own. The little touches had flames burning at the tips of their fingers, crawling their way to the caves of their hearts, bursting forth to drape them in a blanket of fiery warmth.

"My dear, the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?" The woman's gaze turned towards her lover the moment his endearment left his lips—a far wanted term than the ever-so-formal my lady.

"Indeed, it is..." A gentle smile replaced the previous dazed expression that had been painted upon her face.

Nothing more was said within the next few passing moments. No words in all the letters of the worlds could describe the way their souls seemed to long for the other's presence.

"Thank you, my love." She spoke in a gentle whisper, leaning her head to rest on the expanse of his shoulder.

The midnight-eyed knight craned his head to face the lady who was still staring at the moon, admiring the way the lights above reflected the colors of her face.

"What for?" He questioned, unconsciously rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She gave his hand a subtle embrace of her own, smiling at him with such gentleness that he was afraid she'd break at the lightest of caresses. "For staying..."

For remaining by my side even if there was nothing for you but denial. For your persistence. For your affection. For everything and anything all at once. That you’ve loved me even if I was the least deserving of it. Because you didn’t surrender.

You had so many chances to give it all up—so many reasons to grow weary and leave, but you didn’t. You found reasons to stay.

Caught off guard, the knight could only stare at her. An unexplainable blend of emotions swirling within the pools of blue that tinted his irises.

I’m happy to be at the end of your adoration.

He chuckled at her sentimental declaration, indeed... everything she did was absolutely breathtaking.

"Come." He urged, tugging at their entangled limbs, prompting her to rise to her feet.

"Alright, alright..." she laughs, "so impatient."

And with the flick of his wrist, Capitano interlocked their hands once more. His bare hand found anchor on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Resting his forehead against hers, he swayed her to a melody that was nothing but silence for the rest of the world and yet a string of sounds of the most wonderful tunes for the two of them.

Indeed, love does work in mysterious ways.

The commander unhooked his hands from hers, circling one around her back, while the other carded the threads settled upon her head.

"Happy birthday to you, my love." He whispers, his featherlight breath tickling the shell of her ear. "Make a wish."

Just as how he embraced her with utmost respect and adoration, she did the same for him: hugging him tighter as she muttered the words that made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

"Be mine."

Capitano tucked away the stubborn lock of hair behind her ear, gazing deeply into the depths of her irises, memorizing the lines etched on her pupils, the way her lashes would graze her cheeks in the stray moments where she blinked. I’m in love with you. He hung those reminders of her like stars, formed constellations in her glory so that he may be reminded that no matter where he went… a place exists—a time existed—where she and he lived under the same moon.

"Already yours."

But the angels, not half so happy in the stars, envied the love of the knight and the lady. And that was the reason as all men knew, had them move everything to have their love ceased…

Magnificent, that was what he was.

Rain clouds blotted the vast sky, casting shadows upon the face of the lady who stood by the loggia. Her feet freezing her to where she stood as her eyes settled on the dark gloom ahead. The once gentle gale of the season had turned sharp, as though they carried shards of broken glass along with their escape. She listened intently to the whispers of the people, carried by the trees who had lived long enough to tell the tale of a dynasty made strong by human hands.

Her vision, though still a bit hazy, had begun merging the two-layered images that had played out in front of her: the sun that was nearing the end of its time of the day—little twinkling dots that had scattered across the palette of colors that painted the sky, and him, the anchor amidst this hell-bound storm.

His words flew from one ear and out the other, all she saw was the crumbling castle, pillars that held every brick and structure made strong by humans be submerged into the depths of the waters below.

What a terrifying sight indeed, such treasures kept hidden from the cruelty of this world.

And ever so softly did she feel a gentle tug on her hand, a small affectionate gesture that had urged her to move forward in order to match the pace of the one in front of her. Slowly but surely, her sight had focused on a man whose back was turned against her, the gentle yet impactful approach of the frost wiping away the footprints he had imprinted as he had continued to lead her to his desired destination.

Up on that hill stood a tall gateway, towering pillars of nothingness standing on either side.

Embers descended from the sky like the first fall of snow, and the flames of the heavens shone brightly as though they were stars.

His feet carried him from the bloodied pavement and onto the grassy ground that had covered the small hill.

“Go.” He whispers, pushing her towards her escape.

It felt cruel to do this to her—to [Name]. To ask the only woman he loved… to let him go.

Their laughter resonated within the empty atmosphere of that scenery. Her smile, so bright it put even the setting sun to shame. But now, only the thought of reality remained, crushing them from its weight.

“No.” [Name] shook her head, latching onto his bloodied sleeve, preventing him from marching back to all that desolation. “Don’t go, please. I beg you… don’t—Capitano, please.” [Name] fell to her knees, the seams of her clothing dyed in the hue of life that stained his shoes.

“[Name]…” His hands blanketed hers, gently—desperately trying to pry her grip open.

“No. No, no… you—you swore to me. You promised me. You gave me your word.”

Her ears struggled to process what her Knight was saying. Everything sounded as if she was submerged in water and yet her eyes could see the knight tense and stagger as he fought to keep his own morals for her survival.

Capitano knelt before her, discarding the veil he put upon his head, just as he once did all those moons ago.

He knelt beside her and caged her face between his hands. Capitano took it all in, everything. From the way the threads laid upon her head shone under what little luminescence embraced them, her ears that pointed a little too sharply, the little dots that littered her skin, her eyes brimmed with silver, the rivers of water that raced down her rose-dyed cheeks, the tremble of her lips, ones that he had never got to taste—and he never will. He seized them all, plucked them one by one, and hung them like stars. He engraved them all in his darkened sky—swore to heaven and earth that he would look to them every night... because after this moment, he knew he would never see them again. “And I intend to keep it.”

Finally, as twilight settled upon the two lovers, the knight turned and faced the woman he loved so dearly—for the last time, the last time in a good long while.

"Wait for me, my love. Wait for me, and I'll come back to you."

Even with her silver-brimmed gaze, the magnificently terrifying sight of a giant wall frosting into creation had slowly seeped into the crevices of her being, serving as the cold that froze her heart.

Through the tears, she stared at his unmoving figure. This time, Capitano was facing the enemy.

“I hear what people say about him, too, you know. The ever-righteous Captain, the nigh-invincible Captain, the brave and fearless Captain.”

“All good traits, are they not?”

Il-Capitano.

“When people put him in that light, he is. Yet all the same, it paints him in a different color… like he’s so far away. Don’t you fear that someone possessing such unprecedented righteousness is a latent danger? How… how could someone like that ever truly live? Will he ever truly confide? What if I am the embodiment of all that he detests—everything he cannot accept? Could he still bring himself to love me just as he proclaims?”

The ever so righteous commander, the brave and fearless captain, the powerful captain.

“You have yet to know that, [Name]. It isn’t fair to put assumptions on him when you haven’t given him the chance to act on how he really feels. He loves you. For eight long years he’s proven it, practically reformed the heavens so his adoration for you could be caged by the finiteness of this world!”

But to her, he was simply just Capitano.

The commander she loved.

“I hope you like the cakes. The helpers in the kitchen always seem to make far too much of it, and because no one wants to share them with me, I am left to enjoy them all.”

“I’m glad to be the one who shares them with you, my lady.”

The kind and affectionate captain. My one love… Capitano.

“I love you.” She whispers to the wind.

It dawns on her then, that she never really said those to him. Capitano told it to her through a hundred thousand different actions yet she—she had never told him. Not even once.

“I love you…”

And now…

[Name] didn't fear if another war was to come, nor did she fear that he would turn his back on her and cast her away again—no.

What caused her heartbreak was the certainty that after this... nothing would follow.

She would be stuck in stagnancy; in an endless cycle of trying to figure out what she could've done better. How she could have changed his fate, free him from the holds of death. Wondering that if she did things differently then things wouldn't end up like this—that she wouldn't have to be forced to see him leave… when she wasn’t ready to let him go.

I just got you… don’t—don’t leave me so soon. Please…

Deep down, no matter how much she tried to deny, [Name] knew what would come once she opens her eyes.

“… thank you for the adventure.”

To my Captain—darling, dearest, dead.

   Many suns have risen. The lands are riddled with ruins of dynasties who once thought they would last for eternity. And the gods have been replaced… yet here, I remain. In this desolation, in the midst of destruction, cradled under a hundred thousand lights, I linger.

   The echo of your laughter haunts me—even if more than half a millennium has dawned. I have seen more than a myriad of faces, descendants of those who once believed they would parent no children… and every time I do, I am reminded of you.

   Of your ardent affection, and bold declarations. Your promises of eternity, and the dedication that came along with it—yet you were the first to fall, the first to stand against the ones who threatened our home.

   Your love will see me in forever. Just as you had sworn. You, however, will not.

   My Captain… my love, my darling… my dearest.

   When we crossed paths, my life began. As though the once monochromatic mundaneness of my every waking moment was dyed in thousands of shades of color by your dark, and brooding figure. I told you, didn’t I? That when I pictured my life beyond it all, it would not be with you. I spoke the words, ‘I would prefer to eat the remains of field tillers than be courted by the likes of you’, still, you did not relent. I once had thought that you were a madman, choosing me out of everyone else—when you could have had anyone, yet you declared your love was mine to hold. I told you that you were getting the short end of the stick with me… and you said the words, ‘I’d rather live as the most unfortunate man for all my days than to live a life where I cannot love you’. So dramatic, that you are. If you weren’t a commander, you could pass as an actor.

   Sometimes, love came as simple as staring at the moon—but sometimes, it was as arduous as forcing the heavens to align. Still, I loved doing both for you.

   My life began the moment you made yourself known to me. My Captain, my dearest… my one true love.

   I once had thought that the hardest thing in life was to find someone you couldn’t live without… but now it seems that it’s harder to live life without him—without you.

   My life began with you, so why is it that before long, yours had ended…?

   Your love was my haven, a paradise in this space riddled with chaos—comfort in a place destined to ruin.

   Oh, but how quickly did it all crumble. How hasty sunshine leaves when the rain clouds loom. And how the heavens cry when life is devoid of meaning… devoid of you.

   What would the gods ask me to do? Who will the abyss have me become? What more do I have to surrender to have you return to me?

   Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’d reform the universe if I must. I’ll make it so, if they would grant me another chance. Another life. Another universe. A next time—next life… to have even just a few more seconds with you. To have you tell me that you’ll be leaving—so I’ll be able to let you know… if I’m ready to let you go.

   But if fate is kind, if destiny permits, and you find the chance to come home to me—I’ll cherish our mortality, no matter how fleeting. Even if you return with a face blanketed in shadows, memories as fragmented as the skies above, a body crumbling from the cruelty of time... I would still know you. Your soul sings of love in gentle lullabies, whispers as warm as sun-kissed fire, tethered with hopes for another morrow. I would know you. Even if I am caged by darkness, drowned in silence, slipping from the threads of life… I will know you.

   And I will love you. I will love you all the same.

   My Captain. My darling… my love.

   In this space, in this life, how very fortunate was I to have loved and have been loved by you.

---

Domed by an endless blue sky, children of all ages slumbered for the welkin to shine upon. Stars drifted amidst the ether, sending all that lay within its path with promises of a home that differed in shape and size. Melodies of the late summer breeze echoed throughout the home of the hearth, swaying the curtains to the rhythm that it carried along.

[E/c] irises reflected all the hues the heavens had to offer, light that had traversed the bowels and lengths of the cosmos reached the ends of its journey when they drowned in the depths of her forlorn gaze.

“Thank you for accompanying the children, Lady [Name].”

Walking between the borders of dreams and reality, the Khaenri'ahn woman’s dazed figure snapped back to the present: eyes darting back and forth, left and right, desperately trying to search for the voice that rattled her solitude.

She has seen that face countless times, Arlecchino. The Knave. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, they call her. But to [Name], Arlecchino has always been kind. A little on the intimidating side yet remained kind either way.

Arlecchino was the one who took her from the Doctor’s hold and gave her a place to call home. She gave a stranger food and clothing, accepted her and let her be near the children.

Perhaps it’s that kindness that had her vision altering to picture someone else. The one who shares the same blood as that of a soul she knew so long ago.

It felt surreal—as though she was still stuck in that nightmare.

“[Name]…” A small voice called her from the side, before long, cold fingers clutched the hem of her sleeves.

The young woman turned her gaze to her friend, Peruveere. Her cross-marked eyes glistened with unshed tears, hands trembling from the weight of fear blossoming in her heart.

[Name] felt her heart drop at the vision before her. Blood stained her friend’s clothing, falling so freely down the concrete flooring. Part of her face had begun to be caged in frost, blinding her completely—yet she remained hesitant to freeze the one standing before her.

Fragments of her sanity had been lost… still, her heart remembered that the one in front of her was someone she would always love—even as the darkness threatened to swallow her whole.

Before [Name] could support the bleeding lady, a deafening sound shattered the earth, shaking the buildings, and marring the ground in deep valleys.

Peruveere looks to [Name]—an action she was surely going to miss, to see her beloved friend, her only friend, before the world ends—because she knew, seeing her won’t happen again for a long time.

What a great adventure it was… to have been friends with you. To be near close as sisters. Even when I was cast away by the rest, you remained. Even when you had nothing to gain from me, you remained.

“Run.” Peruveere gave her hand one last squeeze before she pushed her out of the balcony.

If fate allows, and destiny is kind… would you meet me in another life? Can I be born again… and take walks with you around the plaza? Throw flowers at strangers in another life? Talk behind other people’s backs in another life? Can we be friends again… in another life?

Can I have another chance… in another time… in another universe….

In another universe, in another time, another chance…

Lightning struck the place where [Name] once stood, then a blood-curling scream followed—Peruveere.

In the place of her ivory hair was a faceless entity, shrouded in obsidian and the colors of the sky. The hands that had once held hers so kindly had been covered by blades, claws in the place of fingers, a danger in the place of comfort.

“[NAME]!”

Thunder echoed in the skies, lightning broke apart the heavens, carving a way for the creatures of the abyss to swarm her home.

The woman had no strength to rise from where she had fallen, her eyes staring in shock at the way a wall of ice grew from the ground up—shielding her from the creature that overtook her friend.

Her only friend Peruveere…

Before long, the lady found herself looking into the void of someone’s face. Capitano.

Ringing in the depths of her eardrums was a rhythmic echo of stone crashing against the ground.

“My love.” She breathes, staring at him with hazed eyes as she looks to him and back over at the wall of frost. “Peruveere—something… I—I don’t—what is going on—she’s still out there, oh god—Peruveere.”

“[Name]—” Capitano caged her trembling hands in his, trying his best to rid of the blood that drenched the pads of her fingers.

“I—I’m never going to see her again.” She cries, gripping the hands that held her so tenderly. “She was my best friend, and I didn’t—I didn’t even hug her. I never even got to tell her that she was right. I’ll never get to tell her anything ever again—”

“—[e]? —[Name]? Lady [Name]?” The calls gradually faded into a dull echo, one tune called to her in a familiar way, warm, and kind… and the other was cold, and distant—the one that bled into reality.

[Name]’s search ended when she met a familiar cross-pupiled stare. A small, sorrowful smile carved its way onto her face.

“Ah, Peruveere… how nice of you to come back to life. Have you come to gloat on me and tell me of your fated premonitions.”

The Knave, far from the one called Peruveere, patiently corrected the immortal woman. “I apologize my lady, but I am not the person you speak of.”

Ah, I knew that.

“Oh. Are you certain? You look just like her, except your tongue is on a leash.” [Name] laughs softly, “Perhaps it’s better. I wouldn’t know if that fool could have stomached living for so long…”

More than anyone I know…

“Why is that?”

[Name] looks to Arlecchino with a playful smile, “Ah, are you sure you aren’t her? She used to ask me that countless of times. Always with the whys.” She laughs, caressing the side of her abyss-tainted face.

“I’ll tell you just this once, so listen closely… because she would have gone mad with grief—existing when all that she loves has gone.” She whispers softly, fighting back the tremble in her voice. No, she couldn’t burden this descendant with the memories of a friend lost in time.

But she took one look at her, the one they call Peruere, yet all she could see were the fragments of the one she called Peruveere.

If this was her way of telling [Name] the ‘I told you so’, she would take it.

Peruveere could gloat and gush and ramble on and on about the Knights of the Khaenri'ah and [Name] would be sure to listen.

“Though it would be nice to have walks with her again. And talk behind other people’s backs… throw flowers at pedestrians.”

They could take the longest way home, pick the food that would take hours to finish, watch the longest play at the theatre—anything, if it meant I’d get to be with you longer.

Arlecchino drew closer to where the Khaenri'ahn woman sat, shutting the windows close. “Maybe another time, my lady.” She offers kindly.

[Name] looks to the Harbinger with a small flickering hope. “Yes… another time, I’m afraid there exists no such thing as that for her.”

Her words had the white-haired woman stop in her wake, ‘I see’. “Then, perhaps, in another life.”

[Name] laughs bitterly, a droplet of stars falling from the eroding side of her face, “Another life… huh?”

"Can't you see?” She whispers, “That doesn’t exist. Not for me, or Peruveere. Not even for him who so valiantly declared his promises. There is no next time! There's no next life! There is no other universe. It's a nice sentiment, believe me, it is, but this is it. This is all we get. But god… what I wouldn't give to have a next time. A next life. To be given just another chance."

Another chance, and I’ll be true. Another life, and I’ll do you better. Another time, and I won’t waste a single second. Another universe… and I’ll love you right—far more than I could have here. Perhaps there, you can keep your vows, fulfill the promise you gave me.

I am here, my love… I’m still waiting.

I have faced many losing battles, the loss of my father, my dream, my heart shattered beyond repair. But in all of that, I had you. I had you and it was enough—enough for me to gather all my broken pieces and hope for another day.

Everything would be alright because I had you.

Everything would fall into place because you were there. And life would take on different forms, different meanings, different paths because I had you.

“I’m still here but where has he gone?” She asks.

But how would I find my way now?

Every ray of hope disappears before my eyes.

I'm not sure I even know what happiness means anymore.

My existence is no longer necessary in this world. The gift of life—the curse of immortality ever so potent, ever so meaningless when all else is gone.

“Tell me where to look—where to go, the promises I have to say, the gods I have to trick, what I must surrender. Only tell me the way… and I’ll do it. No matter the journey, no matter the hardship, no matter the cost.”’

My love, my dearest... my Captain, how I miss you so.

Arlecchino looks to the woman, unsure of what to say.

She has faced plenty of formidable enemies, even formidable allies… but not one as unconquerable as the grief that came with the curse of immortality. She knew only two others who hail from the same land the Lady [Name] had come from, but even they spoke none of the anguish that came with the price they paid.

How could she have stomached living for so long… when there was nothing left to live for?

“I’m still waiting… so he has to return. He has to come home. Come back to me. I’m still here…”

Maybe that was it.

She held onto this person’s promise of return. How cruel, to have been given hope by a dying man. To live in a world where another has gone is truly one of the greatest sorrows a soul can face.

“My colleague is from Khaenri'ah, my lady. They call him Pierro, perhaps he can be of service to you.”

In the wake of stars, the shadows of galaxies, and in forever... there, we remain.

Domed by the ether of the land of fire, a fragment of a soul exists. Clothed in the colors of the night with a face shielded by the void of his helmet that he wore so devotedly, unfailingly.  

Stillness blanketed his surroundings, only the songs of the seelies dancing in his midst and the faint droplets of water hitting stone echoed in the closed space.

It felt so long ago... that the embrace of the land was this mellow. The sensation was akin to receiving a hug from someone in the bleakness of winter: loving, comforting... warm.

It was just how he remembered it would feel like.

"You long for something." The Lord of the Night speaks, her voice sounding as though it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Your heart screams at you to drop everything and look yet your mind shackles you to remain."

Capitano let the words settle—a statement, so it would seem—a question was its true form. No matter how the ancient being phrases her intentions, Capitano knew just as much that Yohualtecuhtin already holds the answers.

"Why do you hesitate, Outlander? Is she not all that you have ever wanted? Everything you have fought and lost to protect? The home you'll return to once the dust settles?"

The Harbinger let the ancient being’s words sink into the horizons of his shattered soul—a piece of what was once whole.

"She was."

Silence dyed the dust motes fluttering in the air. The Captain's answer seemingly weighing them down to stop their eternal waltz. Even the lullabies of the seelies floating the perimeter had dwindled to a whisper.

“Those blessed in sound will not know the turmoil of silence. A man raised in peace remains ignorant to the loss of war. And if the reason for my travels is my destination—I would have never left her side.” Should Capitano’s visage be free from the shadows of darkness, the reflection of an ocean of regret would be far too painful even for an entity as wise as the Night to witness.

“I returned to her, many times… but there was no one to return to.”

For years on end, that was something he struggled to accept. She doesn’t exist anymore. Not in all that ruin, not in the center of all this life.

But Capitano, in his grief, thought that anything could be brought to life.

He was free to dream, even the one he serves did not deprive him of that, but every fragment of hope he managed to stack upon one another was continuously knocked down by every passing sun that sought after him.

Capitano thought anything would be possible.

So, despite not believing in any deities, he prayed to every star, to every god that he knew that his beloved was alive. That [Name] was somewhere in this world, just waiting for him to return. Every meteor that grazed the sky and set alight the night in streaks of fire, he’d catch them all. Every aurora. All the full moons. Even for the slimmest of chances that he’d be heard—that his prayer would be answered.

He did not wish for a thousand things, not even a hundred, just one.

One wish for the heavens: to see her again.

Capitano did not need them to bring her back seven times, just once. Once and it would be enough. He would ask this of them, only this, and never again will he want anything more.

Only grant me this, and I will never ask anything of you ever again.  

Ignorantly he believed that if he wished for it eagerly and hopefully enough, the universe would move the stars to make it so.

But for many centuries, they ignored his prayer.

"Do you wish to know the horrible truth? When I close my eyes, her memory does not resurface. I cannot remember her laugh, or even tell apart her voice. All that remains is the waking thought that she was the only woman I ever loved—the only thing I ever wanted. And the Abyss took her away from me. The gods took her away from me! And all the time in the universe—all the power this world has to offer—couldn't fill the void she left behind."

Capitano's power fluctuates, threatening to burst from the nothingness festering inside him. He would have permitted it. Let the anger and sadness wreak havoc on the lands just as they did in their homeland. He would have done so—once.

All those moons ago when her image haunts his dreams, when her laughter echoes through the valleys, and her figure lingers in every turn. He would have let it all burn, bury everything in eternal frost so that they may see what it's like to exist when there was nothing left to live for.

Feel for themselves what life means when everything else is gone.

"So why do you linger?" The Lord of the Night asks patiently, calming… soothing, as though she knew the heaviness of the burden the Harbinger had been carrying for the past five centuries.

Why do I? Why am I the one permitted to live? Why are you the one trapped under the ruins of our home? Why?

"Because I am ashamed.” He admits.

“All humans fear death, Outlander. Even the bravest of warriors are afraid to fall.”

“No.” Capitano denies, clenching his fist to control his breathing, “To be wounded in battle is nothing to be feared—dying to defend your kingdom is an honor. But when I looked at her—when I looked at her as she watched me walk away when I swore to her that I was never going to do it again, all I felt was indignity.”

“When I fled and went forth with my escape, I saw her there. Waiting. Waiting just as I had told her to. I knew then, I would never see her again.”

Back then, Capitano should have frozen the entirety of the ruins of his home, blasted the debris inching closer to where she remained, subjugated the creatures of the abyss that threatened to hurt her—anything, anything to keep her alive.

But he didn’t.

“I am the only one left to remember her. The only one to speak her name. The sole monument that once upon a time, she, too, had existed. And when I think of her for the last time—when the echoes of her memory fade into eternity, only then will I know that I am worthy enough to meet her again."

The Commander of Khaenri'ah would have never spoken words plunged in the depths of cowardice. In the wake of the falling stars five hundred years ago, he would have done anything.

If she was taken to another world, Capitano would cut through the skies to find her. If she ceased to breathe in this space in time, he would transcend realities—search the bowels of the cosmos to see where she'd gone. If she were to ask to see him, even for the most fleeting of seconds, he would drop everything and come running.

He would have done anything.

And that was the part that riddled his heart in fear.

Because what if it wasn't enough?

Capitano was one of the most powerful people in the land. His name drove fear into the hearts of those who heard it, had them anticipating their deaths, finding their nights spent in restlessness at the thought that he’d take away their lives in the blink of an eye.

Crossing paths with the Captain was something you would not even wish on your enemies.

But this Captain—the one drowning in the oceans of his grief, chained down by his loneliness, awaiting the moments of his last breath... could care less for names and titles.

He reckons she would have reprimanded him for that. She'd even go as far as to demand him to take the matters of sovereignty and lordship a lot more seriously.

And he'd laugh at her, of course—a melody that could render even the most talkative of noble ladies to deafening silence. Always a stickler for the rules, that one.

At the end of the day, when the twilight settles, and the last rays of the sun slip under the blankets of the horizon, his mind would drift to the impossible and pathetic thought—one which he never fails to think about for every moon that rises, and all the suns that have gone—has she been reborn yet?

Having been serving under the majesty of the Tsarista, there was no way he would know for certain. Or at least, that's what he's been telling himself for the last few hundred years.

Capitano has seen the wonders of this world more times than he could count. He's met with a myriad of leaders and lords. Witnessed as the cultures of these mortal beings be brought to ruin and reform once more.

He closed his eyes for every reminder of her—thinking that it was better to live in ignorance of her presence than to have been led on only to be betrayed by his own heart, his own hope turned against him.

Capitano encased her memory in frost, put her in the deepest part of his mind where she could not haunt him. He forced himself to burn the desires of his soul—to see her, to hear her... to tell her that he loves her and that he would give anything and everything to change her fate. He numbed his heart to it all, compelled himself not to think about her.

For every venture beyond the walls of ice, past the snowy hills, and the frosty palace, Capitano felt her get further and further away.

And soon enough, her memory had altogether faded from his mind.

He'll wake in the dead of the night trying to piece together her image, guess the color of her eyes, remember what shade her hair was, what her smile looked like, the sound of his name when it was her who had said it.

He'd try desperately to replicate the scent that followed her like daylight, the clothing she adored, the sounds of her footfalls.

But nothing ever felt right.

He'd tell himself over and over again that he did not deserve to remember her—to miss her when he was the one who threw it all away. I miss you all the same. He'd whisper repeatedly that he was not allowed to hurt, that his heart had no right to break for all that he lost when he had the choice to keep her memory alive, but he didn’t. It hurts all the same.

Capitano would chant it like a mantra. A prayer for his punishment. But even as he tells himself that so long a time has passed—that he had no obligation to continue loving her, a ghost from a kingdom in ruins, a phantom in a land colored in life. I still love you... I love you all the same.

In the frozen wasteland of every passing second, the echoes of her joy would come rushing back to him. The warmth of her loving hold, and her fleeting touches saturated in adoration.

No matter what he did, where he went, who he met... Capitano always thought about her. Are you happy? Are you eating well? Do you get enough sleep? Have you fallen for another? Does he treat you right? Do you miss me? Are you looking for me? Do you—will you still love me?

Whenever he departed, Capitano went with the hopes that by some stroke of fate, he'd run into her. When he would turn the corner, she'd bump into him. Or perhaps walk past each other on the street. Go to the same tailor in town.

Or that I'd see you... even if it's from afar.

But it wasn't enough to just hope.

Yet that was exactly what he'd been doing for the last thousand suns that had passed him by.

He wonders, if he had only risen to protest—to deny the fate the heavens had set for her… would she still be here? Would he not feel this twisting sense of guilt knotting his stomach? Feel as the threads of his heart come undone at his powerlessness?

Capitano knew he should have done more. He could have tried, as soon as he was able—and he always was—as early as he attained power... he should have tried, to look for her, to get a glimpse of her shadow, just to put his heart at ease.

But he didn't do that.

Perhaps it's the gnawing fear of finding her soul nowhere in this world—that he'll finally see that he's left alone in this plane of existence, where she can only live in the memories he forced himself to shatter, fragments of it carried away by the zephyrs of grief.

“You speak of my longing, Yohualtecuhtin…” He spoke into the silence, his footsteps resonating in the hall of stones, “Surely, you would wish for the same. Wish to be closer to demise if it means you’d meet the one you love. To rid of it all so you’d reach the ends faster.”

Before he left, Capitano looked past his armor-clad shoulders to that big monument that housed the ancient spirit. He could almost feel the burning stare she was carving into his being.

“She alone has made me love the path to death.”

And only there, in the cradles of the infinite nothingness… will I be worthy enough to see you.

“Perhaps you should seek her for a final time. Not in the past where ruins lay, but within the warmth of a home, surrounded by the promises you spoke to her… maybe then, you and your beloved will find peace.”

Funny story, I almost lost this fic💀.

My laptop crashed coincidentally when I uhh ‘killed’ off Capitano from the reader’s perspective. Turns out my 1st drive also died along with it. The repairman told me he needed the 2nd drive (where this fanfic was stored) to get my laptop working again but I couldn’t do that (cuz it had this fanfic) because all my files is stored there. The panic I had was otherworldly—but I managed to create a solution.  

I came up with this idea as a form of revenge because of a post I saw on a page on Facebook saying Maviuka was Capitano’s TOTGA (I remember you Jhan, this is all your fault>:0). I didn’t read too much into it (cuz the update was like a day ago back then???) because at that time I hadn’t done the archon quest (and it was midterm week). I was so PISSED that I planned this fanfic in my dorm room instead of reviewing—so now uhmm… I think I might have gotten a little carried away ehe (BECAUSE EVEN I’M CRYING FROM THIS FIC) on another note, you’d think after I wrote a Khanrean kanreeyan Khanreyan STUPID FCKER prince Kaeya fanfic, I’d know how to spell kahnreeya khanrea— I don’t know how to spell it. I think I might have a thing for khaenriyan help ya know what, I take it back.

I hope you enjoyed it 💖

[falllpoutboy]

the ritualistic humiliation of alicent this season was absolutely disgusting and the show constantly needed to remind us that she is the character we should root against all the time and never feel bad for her, everyone else gets a pass because they’re a slave to fate, apparently, but not her. nearly every single plot point this season regarding her is swiftly followed by a punishment, whether literally or narratively.

she starts this season by having clandestine consensual sex with criston cole her sworn sword. they are so bad at being clandestine that otto and larys have clearly suspected something is going on with them. after being stood up by her, larys then replaces her regular lady’s maids with some from his staff so that they can spy and report back to him which makes alicent uncomfortable enough to send them away. that’s punishment #1

she and criston are having sex when b&c happens and are interrupted by helaena and jaehaera running in. but remember, jaehaerys was not the original target of b&c, and the mastermind behind it, daemon is redeemed by the end of this season, so alicent is so much of a POS hypocrite that while she too busy having sex with the LC of the kingsguard, her grandson dies on HER watch. and as much as i loved alicole, i really hate that the writers used their relationship to seemingly punish the characters when they literally haven’t done anything wrong. and now helaena knows about the affair too. punishment #2

alicent is confronted by rhaenyra at the sept of baelor, who lets slip that she heard viserys push for aegon to be king as his last words to her. but oh no, silly alicent, rhaenyra is here to tell you about the song of ice and fire, this stupid prophecy that has been passed from Targaeryen king to heir for generations now. how would alicent have known about it when she is neither king nor heir? doesn’t matter, she’s stupid for believing his words to be literal and stupid for playing a part in crowning her son. punishment #3

alicent takes moon tea, as an abortifacient or as a late contraceptive, we’ll never know! but the very act of taking moon tea is now perceived by grand maester orwylle, who now also has reason to suspect queen alicent has been having an affair. punishment #4

bitter and disillusioned with herself for not knowing about a stupid fucking prophecy nobody told her about and letting her horrible son aegon be crowned (even though the council was planning on installing him anyways), alicent talks down to aegon by reminding him he’ll never be as good of a king as his father (L O L) and he should do nothing. such a rousing speech leads to aegon getting drunk, flying out into battle on his dragon and getting maimed because of it. why did you say such mean things alicent? now look what you did. punishment #5

back at the small council, alicent advocates for herself to be regent with only one person there to agree with her, grand maester orwylle but not even her lover and closest confidant advocates for her. the son she is scared of the most becomes regent instead. silly alicent, don’t you know you will never be respected in a room full of men? how do you like misogyny, something you have apparently never personally experienced until this day, now? punishment #6

alicent goes to the sept of baelor to pray with helaena when a riot mob happens and is forced to retreat. this mob is apparently so righteously angry at not having enough food, they throw fish in her face with such good aim and call her the queen of fishes, alicent trips and falls for leaving helaena behind momentarily, and she also receives a bloody gash on her arm before barely escaping with her life and helaena. oh alicent, didn’t you know that the blockade of ships that carries food into the city which has been enforced by rhaenyra and corlys has actually been your fault the entire time?? punishment #7

back at the small council, alicent confronts aemond and is relieved by her duty on there by him. maybe its because she brings up a theory that he is now avenging the bullying he went through when he was young, which one could argue happened on her watch, is why she gets the boot. oh well, there goes any little ruling power and say in the war effort she had left. punishment #8

alicent sees off her brother ser gwayne who makes mention that their father otto kept her closer to him than gwayne because she was his favored child. Oh! so because alicent was otto’s favorite, it doesn’t really matter that he sold her into marriage and marital rape at age 14 last season. why would you ever want to be otto hightower’s favorite child? punishment #9

alicent also asks about daeron, with gwayne saying how unlike to aegon and aemond he is because he was raised away from them in Oldtown and not by her.. she even says this and gwayne dissuades her of that opinion but honestly, once alluded to that alicent is a bad mom, it’s just her biased brother claiming otherwise. punishment #10

[gunilslaugh]

Vanilla Latte

Kim Jungsu Summary:Jungsu works as a barista at the coffee shop you frequent. The two of you haven’t spoken that much, you just know that he’s the one who tops your vanilla latte with a heart. (non idol au) WC:~1.6k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

The very familiar bell chimes as you open the door to your favorite coffee shop. The warm and comforting aroma of coffee filled your senses.

“Vanilla latte?” Jiseok, a barista, asked you with a bright smile from where he was currently wiping down a table. You nodded your head in confirmation along with giving him a small smile. “Coming right up,” he told you. You head over to your usual table and make yourself comfortable. 

Soon enough the sweet scent of your vanilla latte fills your nose. The gently clink sound of the cup meeting the table pinged in your ears and your eyes take notice of the delicate heart floating on top of your drink. 

“Oh,” you let out a small sound recognizing the heart. That heart only meant one thing. “Jungsu,” you say, shifting your gaze from your latte in front of you to the barista standing right beside you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled delicately at you. His smile is as delicate as the heart on your coffee. “Enjoy,” he tells you, motioning to your drink. 

“I will, thank you.” Jungsu gives you a small nod then proceeds to make his way back over to the counter. Your eyes watch him as he disappears into the room behind the counter. You turn back to your vanilla latte, having a small smile etched onto your face. You carefully pick up the warm cup, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip, letting the sweet liquid dance across your tastebuds. Carefully, you set the cup back down onto the table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why does y/n get a heart and not us?” your friend asked, after peering at the three cups sitting directly in front of each of you. 

“What?” you questioned confused, leaning to look at either of your friends drinks. It was true they didn’t have a foam heart sitting on top, but tulips. “Hmm,” you hum. 

“It’s fine I think the tulip is prettier than the heart,” your other friend states. 

“But I think a heart is more special,” your friend said. 

“Well then there’s your answer. The barista has a crush on y/n,” your friend playfully teased. 

“I’d believe it,” Seungmin, another barista of the shop, suddenly intruded. “Jungsu only tops y/n’s vanilla latte with a heart.” 

That’s how you found out that Jungsu was the one responsible for decorating your vanilla latte with a heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You never asked Jungsu why he topped your lattes with a heart. Though you can’t deny a spark of happiness lit up inside of you anytime you saw the white heart decorating your drink. Even if a heart is one of the simple latte arts, your friend was right it did feel special. Maybe that’s just because Jungsu is the one who makes it for you though. 

Truthfully you didn’t know much about Jungsu. If you really compact it down you suppose you mainly know two things about him. One, he works at your favorite coffee shop. Two, he always tops your vanilla lattes with hearts. If you elaborate, maybe you know quite a few things about him. You think he likes having his hair dyed blonde. He’s tried every shade of it from platinum to dirty. He always has to check three times that he pushed the lever all the way on the coffee machine. (There was a horrible incident one time that left the floor covered in sticky coffee.) He refuses to put the muffins by the bagels in the display window. He is always nervous when he has to carry multiple drinks over to a table using a tray. You’ve heard a rumor from the other baristas that he’s quite talented with a keyboard and that he has an angelic singing voice. He likes cats. You’ve seen him feed some strays in the side alleyway. Giving them gentle pets on their heads as they drink the milk he poured into a small bowl for them. 

Mayhaps you knew quite a lot about Jungsu.

There was one thing you didn’t know about Jungsu though or didn’t remember rather. The first time you met him wasn’t at the coffee shop. No, it was several years ago. An extremely rainy day. With teardrop after teardrop racing down to the ground. Jungsu was not having a good day. He sat on the edge of a curb soaked in rain. He was freezing, but at least the falling rain covered the tears that fell from his eyes.

That was until the raindrops stopped pelting him. Jungsu looked up to see an umbrella covering him.

“You shouldn’t sit in the rain, you'll get sick,” you tell him. 

“Oh umm..I know I-” Jungsu stammers out, awkwardly standing up. You readjust the umbrella to make sure that it covers him. 

“Here, you can have it.” You hand the umbrella over to him. 

“No, what about you?” Jungsu denied taking the umbrella. 

“It’s ok. I’m with my friends over at that coffee shop,” You pointed across the street to the coffee shop. “I don’t need it. You can have it.” Again you hand the umbrella over to him. This time he carefully takes it. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“And…” You drift off as you stop to dig in your coat pocket. “Here.” You pull out a heart shaped chocolate. Jungsu stared at the heart shaped chocolate in the palm of your hand. After a few moments his fingers delicately pick up the chocolate, fingers gently brushing against your palm. “There you should feel better now. I just gave my heart to you,” you lightly flirted. Jungsu laughs at your unexpected words.

“Thanks,” he says with the tips of his ears turning red. 

“I know life gets hard and we can’t feel happy everyday, but there are little things to smile about everyday.” You point to the little heart in his hand. “I hope you feel better. I’ll get going now.” 

“Thanks again,” Jungsu thanks you. You nod before walking out from under the umbrella, using your hands to shield you from the falling rain and hurry back over to the coffee shop.

Jungsu watches you disappear into the shop. He looks at the umbrella shielding him from the rain then looks down at the heart chocolate in his hand. You ran out of the warm coffee shop into the cold rain just to give a guy you don’t even know an umbrella and cheer him up too. Jungsu looks back over to the coffee shop. Maybe he’s the one who gave you his heart. 

Safe to say when Jungsu saw that that very coffee shop was hiring a few days later he didn’t even think twice before applying. 

Jungsu can’t blame you for not recognizing him. He knows he looked like a complete mess that day. He just hoped that one day maybe you would recognize him as he gave his heart to you with every vanilla latte you ordered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks,” you smiled at Jungsu as he placed your vanilla latte in front of you.

“Of course, enjoy,” he told you. You take a moment to stare at the delicate foam heart on your latte before your eyes turn to look back at Jungsu at the counter. That same smile on your face as you go take a drink of your latte. 

The quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop is suddenly greeted by the sound of drizzling rain. At first you found that the gentle sound of the rain added to the coziness of the shop. That was until you realized that you don’t have an umbrella.

“Crap” you whisper under your breath. You started to debate just waiting out the rain, but suddenly Jungsu was by your side again. 

“Here,” he said, holding out an umbrella. An umbrella that you recognized. 

“Hey I used to have an umbrella just like this,” you stated grabbing the umbrella.”I gave it to this guy a few years ago though. He was out in the rain without an umbrella,” you explained. 

“I know…he was out crying in the rain. You ran out of the coffee shop to give him your umbrella and chocolate heart,” Jungsu said. 

“How did you-” Your words cut short as you look at Jungsu, really look at him. You look back to the umbrella in your hand. It was your umbrella. The one that you gave to the guy those years ago. 

“You gave me your heart that day,” Jungsu says, proving to you that he indeedly is that guy who was crying out in the rain. You look over to your now nearly empty latte cup. The heart is long gone, but now it made sense. Why Jungsu always topped your vanilla lattes with a heart. “And I’ve been giving you mine with every vanilla latte I made you,” he confesses. 

“I feel stupid now,” you laugh. “How could I not recognize you?”

“It’s ok, I definitely wasn’t looking my best that day,” he joked. 

“Still I should recognize the guy I gave my heart to,” you say playfully. The tips of Jungsu’s ears go red just like the day you first said that to him.

“Well now that you know…can I take you out on a date?” he asked shyly. 

“I would like that” you agree. 

“Finally!” Jiseok shouts from behind the counter. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep my mouth shut about those vanilla latte hearts,” he says sinking onto the counter. 

“I know! I thought all those months ago when I spilled to y/n and their friends that Jungsu only topped y/n’s lattes with hearts that something would happen, but no I was only able to continue to watch as Jungsu kept making those lovesick hearts,” Seungmin chimed it. Jungsu’s cheeks blush as he tells the guys to be quiet. 

Now you know that the delicate heart that decorated your vanilla lattes felt special because Jungsu made it with love.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

comment or message me to be added!

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Mercy ~ T.R.

A/n: I haven’t actually watched this far into the show, this is all from second hand understanding, so if it’s a little OOC I apologize :)

Request: “Can you do a Theo Raeken x Mreader where the reader never doubted that there was goodness in Theo’s heart even tho he committed terrible acts, the reader supports Theo because they knew that he was led astray since he was a child. The pack believes that the reader maybe crazy and when they discuss that Theo deserves everything bad that happens to him, the reader defends him, which makes Theo feels like he doesn’t deserve someone like them.” By anon

Word Count: 2100+

MASTERLIST

"Stop that." 

Y/n was a pretty passive person. His strengths came from maintaining focus and calm. Hiding, not being seen, never losing control. When he spoke, it was always even and his gaze gave nothing away. He wasn't particularly comforting, or good at fighting, but he was extremely good at getting out of a tight situation - or sneaking into one without consequences. It left him often as the one who could get reinforcements, deliver information where it was needed, or learn important things others couldn't because he hadn't been noticed or stopped.

Which meant easily enough that when he glared at someone, or when his sharp tone snapped through the room with genuine anger, the pack knew it was a severe reaction. If you didn't know him, it would be easy to dismiss the outburst as quieter than Derek's, or softer than what Isaac or Stiles might have hit with. There was no sass or sarcasm and even very little poison in the words... but the fact that it was so full of emotion was telling.

Especially because all they were talking about was Theo.

Scott raised his eyebrows as he shot Y/n a sideways glace. "Stop what?"

"Don't talk about trauma you don't understand," was all Y/n said.

Stiles' face twisted slightly with an anger leaning confusion. "What are you talking about? Theo tried to kill Scott and take over all of us. Including you. He did horrible experiments on the chimeras he did get his hands on - and most of them died. All he has done is cause pain and misery since he got here. Who the hell cares what he's been through?"

Y/n's sudden pointed look stopped Stiles dead. It was equivalent to a blade being pressed to his throat, or a gun leveled at his head. It was a threat - a promise - and he knew to back down immediately. "You never know what kind of person others' experiences would have made you if you'd lived through them. Theo was a child. And before you go off or dismiss me like you have in the past, Stilinski, no I don't condone or dismiss the vast amounts of harm he has caused the people around him. I'm not saying anyone is required to forgive him just because he had a hard life. I was there when Kira sent him to hell the first time, and I helped every step of the way. I stand by what we did. But he doesn't deserve all the pain and suffering he's been through, and it does matter, and he deserves a chance to get better and be a different person." He grew quiet for a moment, sensing everyone in the room growing tense and avoiding his eyes. He sighed and stood from his chair. "I'll see you guys later - let me know when you need me." He left the room, leaving everyone staring after him with wide eyes and parted lips.

Despite how important he found his message, Y/n knew not to push it. It wouldn't go anywhere to hit a brick wall over and over again. It would just break his hand.

-

"What's your deal this time?" Scott sighed the words, his shoulders drooping. This time Theo was in the room, and they'd been trying to ignore Y/n expression as it grew darker and darker, but Scott was powerful because he cared - of course he couldn't last forever.

Y/n's eyes were trained on the windows to the side of the room they were on, taking in the view of the outside past them. Trying to focus and ground himself. He needed to answer this calmly no matter how volatile he felt; they needed to be united in the face of those who depended on them. Like Liam and Theo. 

When he did speak, he could feel every single pair of eyes on him. "I will not stand for that talk in my presence. Keep your harsh words to yourself, or I will intervene."

Stiles, who had been the one going off on Theo, rolled his eyes. He was still wrapped up in his ow feelings and thoughts and didn't have the wherewithal to control himself - even under such threat from Y/n. He fell back on what he was best at: not shutting up. "Theo killed his own sister-"

Y/n snapped. He rushed Stiles, hands wrapping in his shirt as he slammed the other boy against the wall. Everyone scrambled, but Scott held up a hand and caught his breath, eyes wide. They all paused. They had trusted Y/n to not go too far this long; they needed to keep doing so. This was important to him, and it needed to happen. Stiles looked startled but unhurt, so they could hold their breath for just a second. Each person was coiled though, ready to launch the second Scott gave the signal.

"Derek tried to start his own pack and fucked up Jackson's entire life. He has been universally unhelpful, an all-around dick, and general trouble since day one and we forgave him. Isaac was part of that pack, and actively antagonized everyone in our pack - especially you and Scott. He got into fights, belittled other people, and fell through plenty of times when we really needed him. He's disappeared completely when we need him the most and we forgave him anyway because we understand him and see his perspective and work around it. Jackson actively tried to kill us for weeks, but we wrote it off because he was being controlled. But he was that vicious far before he was a monster, and actively bullied and belittled all of us. He put Scott in danger several times and tried his best to ostracize us and make us hate ourselves. Even Lydia used her intelligence and power to hurt and tear down other people - but she's the most active part of this community just because her powers forced her to be here and we accepted her the way she was after that, allowing her to be truer to herself as time passed until she became a genuinely kind and caring person.

"There have been plenty of people who have actively hurt us that we've forgiven. Don't even get me started on Peter. But we forgave them anyway, and they were far older than Theo was - and most of them did what they did without any outside influence. Theo was a child, and whatever horrible thing they did to the other chimeras for a month of two, Theo got for seven fucking years. I don't care what you think or what you know, shut your fucking mouth or I will shut it for you. He's been given the chance to change, and he's trying his best to. He has done a lot for us since he's been back - especially for Liam. He's one of the only ones who's treated Liam's struggles seriously while you make fun of the boy for what he deals with - and you know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, who the hell are you to say anything? You want to start digging shit up about the Nogitsune? How about Allison?"

A hand landed on Y/n shoulder as Stiles' face went pale. "That's enough." Scott.

Y/n caught himself, letting Stiles' shirt go and stepping back. You don't have to forgive him, or like him, but if you're going to talk shit it better not be where he can hear you. Or where I can hear you, for that matter. Next time I'll just deck you - I'm tired of your bullshit." And with that, he left the room. He knew there would be some kind of repercussions for that... but he didn't care. If he left the pack then perhaps it was just time for it to happen. 

He was sure that was the end of it for now, but he heard the door open behind him again as he made his way down the hall. Of all the people he had been expecting to see when he turned to defend himself - he had not been expecting Theo himself.

The brunette boy slowed out of his jog once he'd caught up, stopping too close to Y/n. There was something in his eyes. Tears, at his water line, but also so many emotions that twisted and roiled - too many for Y/n to even begin to decipher. Y/n was taken aback by the emotion, and froze in place, unsure what would happen next. Final Theo managed a, "Thank you," but it was so thin that Y/n knew there was so much to that than the simple two words would be communicating normally.

So he took a second to think, so absorb it all and try to understand. His expression melted and softened, opened up and allowed sincerity and vulnerability to come through. He had been watching Theo struggle for ages now and he was more than willing to let it show plainly. "I'm glad you're back, Theo. That you've taken this chance to learn new things and become a new person. I knew back then that you were capable of good, and you haven't disappointed."

Theo's eyebrows came together. "You did?"

Y/n shrugged, growing a bit sheepish. "I doubted it in the end... I mean, everyone has some good in them, but I decided that it was over, you'd lost your chance, and it hit me to my core. But you served plenty of penance in hell, and when you came back... I could tell you were so different. And I hoped again. And it all paid off. You're becoming the person I always knew you could be. I'm proud of you."

Those emotions turned across Theo's face again and he paused for a whole second before something snapped, or broke - something. Theo closed the distance between them, grabbing Y/n's face and pulling him into a kiss. Y/n hummed in surprise but the sound turned almost immediately into a moan when their lips actually met. The kiss was hard and passionate. Their hands pulled at each other, both of them losing whatever control they had in that moment to do their best to drown in each other. 

Y/n hooked his fingers in Theo's belt, pulling him closer, and whatever anxiety Theo had about the moment melted away. His hands moved from Y/n's face to his hair, fingers wrapping around the strands and tugging on them, forcing his head back to tuck Y/n flush against his chest as every inch between them was filled. Y/n moaned again and Theo sighed into the kiss, his expression relaxing and a smile coming to his face. He reacted again, forcing Y/n to scramble to keep up with him as he moved them through the hall until Y/n's back slammed against the wall.

It was aggressive and desperate but didn't actually hurt. Y/n found himself surprisingly comfortable and only enjoying every moment they shared now. There was tenderness to the kiss too. Small things, like the tips of Y/n's fingers running across the top of Theo's waistband and ghosting the skin there; Theo's thumb rubbing the softest circles at the back of Y/n's neck where the smalls of his hair grew thinner than the rest of the thicker hair, allowing his skin to feel the contact and tingle at such affection. There was nothing sexual to it, which also made every single kiss and bite as Theo caught Y/n's bottom lip or skated away from his lips and began to trail across Y/n's jaw and down his neck - it was all accompanied with sighs and kisses if Y/n's hissed in pain. 

How long had Theo wanted this? Because the sheer relief and desperation communicated Y/n's own feelings like a mirror. 

After a few minutes they both relaxed and melted into each other, their touches and holds relaxing until Theo simply leaned into Y/n, their foreheads pressed together. It was quiet for a few beats, and then - "I don't deserve you."

Y/n scoffed. He reached up, gripping Theo's jaw between his fingers. "I'll kick your ass too, Raeken."

That made Theo smile. "Feel free." He left another kiss on Y/n's lips, but this one was lingering and soft. It was more intimate that way, and they were both left a little dazed. "Will you go on a date with me?" He still didn't seem entirely sure, which was almost laughable after the kisses they'd just shared, but Y/n didn't say anything. 

Who was he to give someone shit for questioning the person they liked liking them back when they thought it impossible?

Y/n sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Theo pressed their foreheads together and they sat there for a long time. Y/n got the feeling that neither of them would feel alone ever again... They had each other now. They'd be just fine.

-

Story Tags: @badblondebisexualboy

Male reader Tags: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

Thank you! Okay here’s my idea. It’s kinda like a slowburn fic but tickling? So imagine it’s a Ler in a Ler mood (maybe Chan?) but is trying to hold back from acting on it cuz he doesn’t wanna make the others uncomfortable. But the members notice and decide to tease the Ler by doing little things near him but not close enough to let him participate. So like poking each other, short quick tickle, stretching and showing off weak spots but hiding them too fast. Just really making the Ler mood for him worse trying to break him but he keeps holding back until finally one of the Lees just flat out invites him to tickle them cuz you know you want to hyung. Basically a flustered shy Ler fic! I hope I explained it right. I think it’d be fun for it to be a longer fic so you can play up the flustery parts. That’s my idea! I love ur writing so I hope you like this idea and feel inspired to write it! If not, maybe one day I will post my version of it. Thank youuu!! ☀️

𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗼𝘂𝘀 — 𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗮’𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.5k

𝙖/𝙣: happy birthday to me!! i’m so happy i got to post this fic on time hehe :3 i hope you all enjoy this!!

𝒍𝒆𝒆: skz

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

Ler mood: 9/10 

Chan was this close to losing it. He felt the overwhelming guilt flood his system, like the feeling of sticky fingers after eating ice cream, that annoyingly clammy feeling that spreads through the body with no end in sight. 

Jisung’s gentle snoring filled the studio, and Channie watched, laptop forgotten and bottom lip between his teeth, as the smaller boy shifted, his shirt rising just a bit more to reveal his tiny belly button. 

The urge to stick a finger in there, to hear the high pitched squeal and chaotic, unhinged laughter that would ensue was catastrophic. Chan fidnt know how he’s still holding back. 

But he was asleep, and what if it irritated him? 

Chan felt the guilt rise again, and he nearly groaned out loud. His ler mood was killing him, and he needed one of the members right now or else he might actually explode. 

Okay…so maybe he became a bit dramatic when his mood hits. But who could blame him?

Listening to Jisung complain about how sleep deprived he had been lately, Chan knew it would be horrible to just disturb him like that. 

Ler mood: 8/10

Wandering around the dorm in search of a potential lee, a sinking feeling began to emerge in Chan’s gut. Am I too overbearing? Is this crossing the line? And worst of all, Am I…weird for doing this? 

Chan froze mid-step, vision going slightly blurry as tears welled up in his eyes. He felt absolutely horrible, hunting his members down to tickle them just because he was feeling a certain way. 

Even if Changbin’s tummy looked too sweet not to be tickled, and even if Seungmin called him old one too many times, Chan wondered if the members hated the spontaneous tickling sessions he threw at them, whether it made them nervous, or even worse, scared of the leader. 

Dinner time was a chaotic time as normal, all the members chatting as they devoured the scrumptious cooking, courtesy of Minho. Except for one. 

Chan moved around the food on his plate with his fork and spoon, feeling squeamish and uncomfortable with the prospect of eating. He felt nervous as he felt seven pairs of eyes stare him down, like a flight of hawks. 

“You haven’t eaten a thing, hyung… are you okay?” Hyunjin’s tone dripped of suspicion, like honey, sweet and sultry at the same time. 

Channie gulped. “Yes, I’m fine,” He chuckled, trying to act normal even if he knew it wouldn’t work. His thoughts were confirmed when Minho narrowed his eyes at him across the room. 

Chan excused himself, trying his hardest to ignore how the others stared holes into the back of his head as he set his plate in the sink and left. 

Ler mood: 10/10

Hearing the sound of screaming laughter, Chan shot up from his studio table, turning his head to see the rest of the members immersed in playful banter, and poor m was getting it, dozens of fingers attacking as he squealed out, face red. 

Chan fought the itch to join in, instead trying to block out the sound of the maknae’s joyful hysterics  by slamming his headphones onto his head, pressing them against his ears in a hope that they’d drown out the laughter that made him wanna cry. 

It did nothing, and Chan felt his eyes well up with tears again as he was forced to listen to the one sound that he wanted to elicit the most. 

He watched in slight sadness as Changbin showed off the progress on his muscles, pointedly looking at Chan to signify his point, and Chan felt horribly guilty for not being able to focus on anything other how exposed Changbin’s armpit was, and how easy it’s be to pin him down and tickle him silly. 

It happened later again with Minho too. His feet were in Chan’s lap while the leader massaged, and Minho kept giving him hard looks, almost as if to try and egg him on as Channie’s brain filled with thoughts on how simply he could just skim his fingers along Minho’s soles and have the younger go ballistic beneath his tickling fingers. 

Then with Jeongin too. The maknae kept poking Channie’s sides, at this point he was just asking for it, telling Chan fo get him back fast because “You know you want to, hyung.”

Chan wondered if it was all on purpose and the members knew, or if the universe was conspiring against him to make his ler mood worse. 

Ler mood: 10/10

After two grueling days of drowning in his own thoughts, Chan was dragged into the living room by Minho, and there awaited the one sight that he’d been dreading. 

All of the members were seated around the couch, eyes sad and expressions concerned. Chan felt a knot form in his throat, and he felt so bad for making them feel upset. 

“Hyung, seriously, what’s going on?” Minho asked, his tone gentle as he took both of Channie’s hands. “Did someone hurt you? Do you feel sick? You’ve been off lately, we’ve all been worried.”

“Please,” Felix joined in. “Please just tell us. You can trust us, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jisung added. “We know you love to tickle us, and we love to be tickled, hyung. You can do what you want when you’re in a ler mood. Don’t hold it back and don’t overthink it. You’re destroying your own happiness.”

Chan sank into the nearby couch section, and his mind felt like it was exploding, and it was unbearable. 

“I just want…to make you laugh. I want to make you all happy…” He started, sniffling as he felt many pairs of arms wrap around him. “It’s stupid…that I’m overthinking a ler mood, but I don’t want to…make you all uncomfortable.”

Jisung giggled, sinking to his knees in front of Chan, hands reaching out to cup the leader’s cheeks and jaw, wiping away the stray tears with his thumbs. “So you were watching me sleep because you wanted to tickle me?”

The leader sputtered, cheeks going red as the whole group laughed. “Well—hey!”

“So hyung’s in a ler mood. So why don’t we let him tickle us? You know you want to, hyung,”  Seungmin announced nonchalantly, although his red ears and pink cheeks told another story. 

“Mmm…how about two minutes each in whatever spot he wants?” Hyunjin joined in, teasingly poking a reddening Jeongin’s cheek. 

After some time discussing, the members all gathered on the carpet in a circle, staring up at Chan as the eldest gleefully sat in the center. 

“Everyone has to try not to move their arms a lot, so that he’ll be able to do what he wants.” Minho announced. 

“Easy for you to say, remember how many times you nearly killed hyung by slapping him while he tried to tickle you?” Jisung laughed, screaming when Minho made claws at his face. 

“First, Seungmin!” Felix screeched, and all of the members jumped into action, dragging the protesting puppy into the center of the circle, and restraining him to the floor. 

Biting his lip, Seung could feel his cheeks heat up as Chan stepped over him, then lowered to pin his hips to the floor. The leader’s slightly shy gaze was too much, and Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, feeling flustered. 

He felt his shirt being untucked and pulled away, and he let out a helpless whine as his tummy was exposed to the cool air. 

Then, Seung felt a pair of lips attach to his belly, and his eyes shot open in horror, but far too late. 

“Oh my—GAHAHAHAHAHAA!!” Seungmin shrieked as he tried to curl in on himself to protect his tummy from the endless raspberries being peppered onto it. 

Chan smiled, albeit shyly, holding Seungmin’s sides while he blew a long one right into the boy’s navel. “NO—NOHOHOHOHOOO!! Ihihihit tihihihickles!!” Seungmin whined, unable to shield himself in any way. 

He endured more and more, feeling like he was gonna burst from how hard he was laughing. He even heard himself snort—how embarrassing. “STAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! Pleheheheheheaseee!!”

Before he even knew it, his time was up, and he was released. Panting, Seungmin ran towards Felix and dragged him to the center of the circle. 

Now, Felix was a giggling mess, pinned on his back in the middle of the living room floor. His arms were stretched above his head, held firmly by Hyunjin, whose long fingers were occasionally scribbled along Felix’s forearms to keep him squirming.

Seungmin, seeking revenge, and Jeongin, had each grabbed one of his legs, keeping them still despite Lixie’s half-hearted attempts to kick free. The boy whined and kicked, but he was unable to break free. 

Chan hovered near his waist, fingers poised hesitantly, but his expression was gleeful and joyful. 

Lixie let out a helpless wheeze, eyes fearful hesitatingly Changbin scooted to his torso, holding down his hips. “Please…Channie hyung, go easy!”

Chan grinned, confidence regained, and his fingers descended happily onto Felix’s waist. Lix’s reaction was immediate: his body arched off the floor, a burst of uncontrollable laughter spilling out of him.

“Gotcha~” Chan said smugly, his fingers moving with accuracy as he targeted Felix’s ribs.

Felix twisted and squirmed, his laughter growing louder and more desperate. “HYUHUHUHUHUNG!! THAHAHAHAHAT’S CHEEHHEHEHEATING!!” 

“How?” Chan asks, digging deeper to hear the brownie boy squeal, his body arching a little bit unable to go far. 

“Youhuhuhu knohohow that’s my wohohohOHOHORST SPOHOHOHOHOHOT!!” Felix howled, body bucking as he felt more fingers spider along his sensitive skin. 

“Times up!” Changbin called, and Chan groaned. 

“IHIHIHITS OKAHAHAHAAY!! Gohhohohoh on ihihihits fihihine!!” Felix squealed, wanting Chan to have as much time as he wanted to tickle the members until his ler mood was satisfied.

Chan smiled gently at that, continuing to tickle for about another minute with joy, loving the way his sunshine squirmed beneath him, laughing so happily at something so simple as some ticklish touches. 

Chan finally leaned back, giving Felix a moment to catch his breath. Felix panted, his voice hoarse but still tinged with residual giggles.

Hyunjin and Seungmin finally released him, and Felix immediately curled into a ball, hugging his sides protectively.

Hyunjin had been laughing way too hard during Felix’s ticklish ordeal. He’d been the first to volunteer to pin Felix’s arms, the loudest to chime in with teasing remarks, and the most smug about his role in the chaos.

So when Felix finally caught his breath, wiping away tears of laughter, he turned toward Hyunjin with a look that could only be described as pure vengeance. 

“Come here!” He shouted, grabbing Hyune’s arms and dragging him to the center, much to the others’ delight as they pinned him down. 

“No, no, NO!” Hyunjin shrieked, scrambling to his feet as Felix grabbed his arms to pin. The rest of the group erupted into cheers, their laughter filling the living room as Lixie tackled Hyunjin to the floor with surprising speed.

Hyunjin’s legs kicked wildly, but Chan was quick to sit on them, his grin smug as he held Hyunjin’s ankles down. “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere,” Chan said, his tone playful as he grabbed at Hyunjin’s waist, motioning Lix to keep his arms steady as he dug deep into the boy’s armpits. 

Hyunjin shrieked, laughter tumbling out of him as Chan’s thumbs massaged torturous circles into his sensitive skin, even slipping under his shirt to access the bare skin. 

“NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” The ferret screamed dramatically, bucking up and down as Chan dug even deeper, grinning maniacally as Hyune squealed in response. 

Hyunjin’s laughter was frantic now, unable to get enough air between the bursts of giggles. His feet twitched and jerked, but no matter how much he squirmed, Felix and Seungmin kept him firmly in place.

“YOUHUHU AHAHAHAALLL SUHUHUHUHUCK!!” The laughter that spilled from Hyunjin was near non-stop, and the sound was contagious. His whole body shook with helpless giggles, making it hard for him to catch his breath as Chan’s relentless poking continued at his armpits.

Changbin raised a single arm to signify the time completed, and Chan released the red faced boy instantly, laughing as Hyune practically scrambled to hide behind a very amused Jisung. 

Hyunjin, still flushed with laughter and completely winded, shot them all a glare, though it was hard to stay mad when his grin was just as wide as everyone else’s.

Changbin had been watching the chaos unfold with a mixture of amusement and caution. Being the self-proclaimed strongest member, he was confident that he wouldn’t fall victim to the tickle onslaught that had already claimed three of the members.

But when the others turned their attention to him, his confidence started to waver.

“No! Not me!” He stumbled backwards as five of the members began to approach to help Chan—Minho, Seungmin, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix. 

“Careful boys,” Chan called out. “He won’t go down without a fight.” He proclaimed dramatically. 

It ended up taking all seven of them to bring a wailing Changbin to the floor. 

“NOOOOO!!” He cried out as each member sat on one of his limbs to finally pin him down, and he squeaked in fear as the leader sat triumphantly on his thighs. 

“Ready, Binnie?~” Chan cooed, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He shot his hands to Changbin’s hips, and much to the poor boy’s horror, dug in deep with his thumbs. 

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOT THE HIPS, NOTTHEHIPS—AAHAHAHAHAHA!!” 

Chan grinned in amusement as Changbin flopped around, laughing his head off as the leader targeted one of the worst spots on his body. 

“Not so strong now, huh?” Minho crooned, laughing as Changbin let out an adorable snort of laughter before devolving into frantic cackles yet again. 

“ENOUGH—EHEHEHEHENOUGHHHH!! IHIHIHU GIVE UHUHUHUHUP!!” 

The timer rang faintly in the background, so Chan gave Binnie’s hips one last squeeze before letting the boy go, relishing in how red the rapper’s face had become, combined with how teary eyed he seemed. 

Changbin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Nope,” the others said in unison, laughing as they watched their strongest member reduced to a giggling, embarrassed mess.

Jeongin had been watching from the sidelines with a mix of amusement and dread. Sure, he’d laughed along with the others as Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin were respectfully reduced to ticklish messes, but the way everyone slowly turned their attention toward him made his stomach drop.

“No. Nope. Not happening,” Jeongin said, backing up quickly, his hands raised in a defensive gesture.

“Oh, it’s definitely happening,” Chan said, his smile far too innocent to be reassuring.

“You’ve been way too smug over there,” Seungmin added, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. “Time to see how well you can handle it, maknae.”

Innie darted a glance around the room, trying to find an escape route, but the others had already spread out, blocking any possible exit. “Guys, come on,” He said, his voice pitching slightly as he tried to reason with them. “I’m the youngest! You can’t do this to me!”

Felix snorted. “That’s exactly why we can do this to you.”

Before Jeongin could make a break for it, Hyunjin and Changbin lunged forward, grabbing him by the arms. Innie let out a startled yelp, thrashing wildly as they dragged him toward the center of the circle.

“NOO!!” He shrieked as high pitched as he could, causing one of the members to groan loudly in the background. Innie was very quickly shut up by the feeling of feathers gliding along his neck. 

“WAHAIT!! Nohohohohobody sahahahaid toohohohohools!!” Jeongin squealed as Chan cooed, cupping the maknae’s chin with one hand and tilting his head up to expose his neck, grinning down at the youngest’s giggly expression while the others used whatever feathers they found, tracing and fluttering along his sensitive neck. 

“I know, I know,” Chan pouted down at the maknae. “But you’re too cute not to use them on~”

Innie giggled, eyes tearing up as the tickles continued without an end in sight. More feathers fluttered along the shell of his ears, and Jeongin exploded into giggles, his face scrunching up as he squirmed helplessly.

“Oh, baby, I love you so much,” Chan smiled, brushing Innie’s hair out of his face. “You’re so cute~”

The timer rang loudly, disrupting the vibe, but Jeongin was too dazed to really care. The members made sure to slow to a stop, however. 

“Look who’s so cute being tickled,” Jisung chuckled. 

“Good, because you’re next, and boy am I not gonna let you off easy~” Chan laughed, and Jisung gulped hard. 

“This is a bad idea,” Jisung said quickly, his words tumbling over each other as he was dragged to the center. “You really don’t want to do this. I’ll scream. The neighbors will call the cops.”

“Let them,” Chan replied smoothly, kneeling beside him with a devilish grin. “We’ll just explain that our dear Han Jisung couldn’t handle a little tickling.”

Chan didn’t wait for him to finish. His hands dove straight for Jisung’s ribs, digging in with a devilish intent, and the effect was immediate.

“NOOHOHOHO!! AAAAAHHH!!” Jisung shrieked, his body jerking violently as he tried to escape the relentless fingers.

“Oh, he’s loud,” Felix noted with a grin, poking at Jisung’s sides to add to the chaos.

“I CAHAHAHANT HEHEHELP IHIHIHIT!!” Sung howled as Chan scribbled deep into the crevices. 

“Reeeaallly had to go for the death spot, huh?” Minho winced as Sungie let out a particularly long scream of laughter. 

“LET ME GO LET ME GO—AHAHAHAHAGH STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Jisung screeched, a laughing, flailing mess as Chan really used the tips of his fingers to taser at the skin. 

“THEHEHEHE TIHIHIHIMERRR!!” Jisung wailed as a last resort, and the second Chan stopped, the sound of the ringing became clear. 

“Whoops…sorry Sung,” Chan grinned sheepishly as everyone released the quokka’s limbs. 

“You’re all…soho evil…” Sungie panted. 

Minho had been quietly observing the chaos from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and his face set in a neutral expression, though his sharp eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. 

He’d been smart enough to stay out of the fray while everyone else fell victim one by one, but as the group’s focus began to shift in his direction, his confidence faltered.

“What about Minho hyung?” Jeongin said suddenly, an impish grin spreading across his face as he wiped at the tears still clinging to his cheeks. “He’s been awfully quiet over there.”

Minho’s eyes darted to the grinning maknae, and he was already planning exactly where he’s wreck him until the boy was a giggling, howling mess. 

“Yes, I saved the best for last.” Chan grinned, cracking his knuckles. Minho felt a spike of nervousness spread through his system. 

He let himself be dragged to the center. What? He was already gonna be wrecked anyway, might as well save the energy fighting to actially survive the wrecking.

Minho groaned as Jisung cleared his throat. “I have a very special announcement for you, Channie hyung.” 

Minho shot his head up, pleading with his eyes to Jisung to not tell him. Don’t tell him. Please—

“Minho hyung has this really adorable habit of flapping his hand whenever he gets overwhelmed while being tickled.” Sungie blabbed joyfully. 

Screw you, Han Jisung. 

“Oh, really?” Chan smiled down at Minho, who frantically shook his head, biting his lip to seal his mouth closed as the leader directed the others to pull the dancer’s knees away from each other. 

“Such ticklish thighs, aren’t they?” 

Minho nearly screeched in response, and he’s never felt so much fear in one moment. Laughter exploded out of him the minute Chan’s hands clamped down on the firm muscle of his thighs. 

“NOHOHOHOHOHOTT THEHEHEHEHEERE!!” Minho screeched as Chan squeezed, and the leader watched as Min’s fists clenched in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ticklish sensations. And to possibly hide that flapping of his. 

Channie cooed, slipping his fingers under the capri pant leg to truly access that sensitive area right above Minho’s knee with his nails. The poor boy went absolutely ballistic, thrashing as laughter poured out of him endlessly. 

Then it happened. 

Minho’s fingers splayed free and his hands began to flap erratically in a desperate, frantic motion as he cackled in the background. 

Chan felt his heart nearly explode with how much it swelled. “Awwww…you’re so cute, Minho-yah…”

Minho kicked his legs out, a mess of laughter and adorable squeals as his hands continued to flap in tiny, fluttering motions, fingers closing and opening in frantic desperation.  

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT CUUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Minho wailed, tears spilling down his cheeks as Channie’s nails teased at his sensitive thighs, massaging circles deep into the firm skin and sending Minho into a screaming, thrashing frenzy of laughter. 

The timer rang faintly, but Chan continued going until he was satisfied at how much he had tickled the fight out of Minho. 

“That habit of yours,” Chan chuckled. “Cutest fucking thing ever.” 

Minho blushed a deep red at the ears, shoving at Chan’s arm as he panted, gasping for air. “You’re welcome I didn’t put up a fight, dipshit,” Minho melted as Chan hugged him tight. 

Ler mood: 0/10 — Satiated. 

[lovelyjj]

hey! Can you write insecure reader who stops eating and her boyfriend JJ finds out?

I love all your works btw! 😽🫶

Insecure

jj maybank x reader

a/n: thank you and thank you so much for requesting!

It was hard not to compare yourself to other girls. When you were at the beach all you could think about is the bodies of the other girls. They had tiny waists and long legs. Their hair was perfect and you just wished you looked like them.

The fact that you had to wear a bikini to the beach made you not want to go. Showing off your body is quite possibly the last thing you would ever want to be doing. So you would ether not go or wear a sweatshirt and say you weren’t tanning or swimming.

It was also hard to see the same girls at the beach flirt with your boyfriend. JJ would blow them off and reassure you that that you were the only one for him. JJ didn’t even glance in their direction. He was completely devoted to you. Yet you still felt like he deserved better.

All you could think about is how horrible you looked. You were far from how the girls at the beach looked, and you couldn’t help but think you were ugly. You were deeply insecure and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You felt uncomfortable in your own skin and not good enough for anyone or anything. You were tired of feeling this way, it was draining. You were also feeling hopeless. Your mind was your worst enemy. Every time you looked in the mirror you cringed. So, you tried to avoid doing that at all times.

When food was placed in front of you you would almost gag. You didn’t want to eat. It was too much. You thought maybe if you stopped eating you would become thinner and look like all the other girls with tiny waists.

You didn’t mean to it just sort of happened. You thought you were just not hungry, but then you were skipping meals. a lot of meals. You have stopped eating all together and you were hoping that you would get good results out of it.

JJ wasn’t stupid, he knew something was wrong he just didn’t know what. He noticed that he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. He also noticed that you’ve lost some weight. Of course your weight didn’t matter to him but he was concerned for your health.

The chateau was busy with all the pogues in it. They were all getting ready to go in the hot tub. You were having a dilemma because you didn’t want to get into a swimsuit. So you decided you wouldn’t go in.

“What’s up buttercup?” JJ asked.

“Nothing just chillin,” you spoke.

“How are you, seriously?” JJ asked. He was concerned about you. He was watching you decline and he hated it.

“Um m’fine,” you replied.

“I think we need to talk,” JJ put forth.

“what about?”

“I haven’t seen you eat in a long time and I’m worried about you,” JJ confessed.

You let out a deep sigh. You did not want to have this conversation right now.

“Don’t worry about it JJ,” you instructed.

“No I will worry about it because i worry about you. You’re my girl and I care about you. I’m concerned. Please baby, talk to me.” JJ begged.

“I just want to feel pretty,” tears filled your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.

“I thought maybe if I stop eating, I would loose some weight.” You looked down on the floor avoiding JJ’s eyes.

“You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world right?!”

“Baby please look at me.”

You did as you were told, reluctantly.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you and I love your body. I think you’re gorgeous. It breaks my heart that you don’t see it. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You gave JJ a sad smile.

“Come here,” JJ opened his arms for you to get into.

Once you were in JJ’s arms he kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead. He then kissed your temple. “My beautiful girl, love you so much!” Then he kissed your lips.

“How about I order a pizza?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t know jayj,” you shrugged.

“Come on please baby I need you to eat something for me. I don’t want you to wither away. I care about you and your health.”

“I’ll eat with you, I will even help you. If you want me too,” JJ shrugged.

“Jayj…”

“No come on, I’m ordering the pizza, end of story.”

You gave JJ a small smile silently thanking him but you were more so just done protesting. You knew JJ meant well you were just stubborn. It meant a lot to you that he cared so much about you. You thought it was sweet. You just really didn’t want to eat.

The pizza was delivered and you were dreading eating it. JJ took the pizza to his room so you could have some privacy.

“I know you don’t want to eat but i’m right here I’m not going anywhere and I want you to nourish your body.”

“okay jayj.”

JJ sat with you and helped you eat. He was understanding and considerate. He wanted to be there for you during this hard time. With JJ’s help you were able to eat something.

“There you go baby, good job! I’m proud of you,” JJ praised.

“Thank you J.”