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wolverigrl · 4 months ago

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The talk

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Previous Part

A/N: Enjoy this part 3! I hope you like it! In this story, Blake and Ryan have been married since 2010 and therefore had their children earlier. I changed the age of the children to make it fit.

Warnings: maybe some swearing here and there, a bit angsty and fluff, mentions of alcohol

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I couldn’t sleep last night. I’d been tossing and turning for hours, staring at the digital clock that blinked back at me relentlessly. When 6 a.m. finally rolled around, I gave up, threw back the covers, and dragged myself out of bed. I needed something to ground me, to keep my mind from spiraling, so I rolled out my yoga mat in front of the massive window that looked out over the New York skyline. The city was still half-asleep, but I could already feel its energy buzzing in the distance.

After a quick, but calming, yoga session, I snapped a selfie. I sat on the mat in my sports bra and leggings, my hair a messy bun, and the sunrise just starting to peek through the buildings behind me. My face looked peaceful, but inside, my stomach was a knot of nerves. Still, I posted it on Instagram, hoping the positivity from my followers might lift me a bit.

Within minutes, comments flooded in. Mostly love and support, people saying how they wished they could be as dedicated to early morning yoga as I was. But some of them worried about me. There were a few messages asking if I was okay, mentioning the paparazzi photos of yesterday. Apparently, walking through the city with Blake after the premiere turned into a full-on hangover spectacle, and people noticed. They always notice everything.

I sighed and decided to call Blake.

“Heyyy!” she greeted cheerfully, her voice always so full of life.

“Hey, Blake!"I replied, trying to sound less anxious than I felt.

I hesitated. I didn’t really want to unload on her again.

“I, uh, I’ve got Hugh coming over soon. I… I don’t know, I’m kinda nervous about it. We need to talk, and I just—I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

I heard in her voice that she was smiling. “Listen, you and Hugh will be fine. He’s a great guy. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t be flirting with you so much in public. Trust me, I’ve known him for years—he doesn’t do that unless he means it.”

I bit my lip, feeling my anxiety twist and turn. “But what if… ahh.. nevermind. I’m just so confused.”

“That’s okay. As I already told you, you don’t have to figure it all out in one day. Just talk to him, be honest, and see where it goes. You’ve got this.”

Her words helped, if only a little. I thanked her, and after hanging up, I busied myself around the apartment, waiting for the knock on the door.

When it finally came, I almost jumped out of my skin. I opened the door to find Hugh standing there with a bag of bagels in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Good morning. I brought us breakfast." he said with that charming smile of his.

We exchanged small talk as we sat down at the kitchen counter, nibbling on our food. He complimented the view, asked about my morning, and I tried to stay calm, but the tension between us was impossible to ignore. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dancing around the subject, I took a deep breath and started the conversation I’d been dreading.

“Hugh,” I began softly, setting my half-eaten bagel down. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling. About us, I mean.”

He nodded slowly, looking at me with that warm, steady gaze that always seemed to calm me, even when I was a mess inside.

“I like you, y/n. A lot. And I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. But I’d like to figure it out together if that’s something you want to.”

My chest tightened. “But the age thing… your kids… Hugh, it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m ready for something so complicated.”

Hugh leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’ve already talked to my son about it, actually. Oscar asked me about you, and I told him the truth—that I’m happy when I’m with you. And he said that as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters to him. Ava feels the same way, I’m sure.”

I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. The relief I felt, knowing that he’d already had that conversation with his son, was overwhelming. But at the same time, the weight of everything else crashed over me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping at my eyes as the tears fell.

Hugh got up and pulled me up from the chair so that I stood in front of him. His arms wrapped me in a soft hug, and his fingers tilted my chin up slightly so he could kiss the tip of my nose. It was a soft, sweet gesture that made my heart skip.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

I nodded, sniffling a bit. “Slow sounds good. Maybe we could… you know, go on real dates? But keep things quiet for now.”

He smiled again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, Blake and Ryan can know, but no one else. At least for now.”

We finished breakfast and cleaned up, and soon we found ourselves on the couch. Hugh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. For a while, we just sat there, the silence comforting, our worries temporarily pushed to the side.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Did you… did you mean it? That kiss in the gym?”

Hugh chuckled, glancing down at me with that familiar playful spark in his eyes. “Was that not obvious?”

I felt my face heat up, a slow blush spreading across my cheeks. I shrugged, trying to play it off, but the vulnerability in my voice betrayed me. “I had other things on my mind.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and infectious, and I found myself smiling despite the butterflies in my stomach. There was something so disarming about him, the way he could make me feel at ease even when my heart was racing. His gaze held mine, the tension between us thickening, and suddenly, I couldn’t resist any longer.

Without thinking, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but the moment he responded, everything else faded away. His lips were soft and warm, moving gently against mine, and the kiss quickly deepened, growing more intense with each passing second.

My heart pounded in my chest, the heat between us rising as my hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. Hugh’s arms circled my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically sitting on his lap. His hands were firm yet tender, one resting on the small of my back, the other moving up to cradle the side of my face as the kiss continued to build in intensity.

I felt my breath hitch as his lips trailed from mine to the corner of my mouth, then along my jawline, his stubble grazing my skin in the most delicious way. My pulse quickened as I let out a soft sigh, my fingers tangling in his short, soft hair. The sensation of his lips on my neck sent shivers down my spine, my entire body humming with anticipation.

Hugh's hand slid down to my back, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard lines of his body pressing against mine, and it sent my mind spinning. His touch was gentle but sure, his fingers tracing small circles on my lower back, grounding me even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

His mouth returned to mine, the kiss now slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. His tongue teased my lips, and I opened up to him, the kiss deepening as our breaths mingled, the air between us growing hotter. Every nerve in my body was on fire, the warmth of his touch, the weight of his hands, the way he held me, as if I were something precious. I felt safe and reckless all at once, the thrill of being so close to him coursing through me like electricity.

Hugh’s grip tightened on my waist, his hands sliding down to my hips, and I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, a heady mix of desire and disbelief that this was actually happening. His lips parted from mine just long enough for me to catch a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering open to meet his. His gaze was dark, intense, and filled with the same want that was swirling inside me.

I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned back in, kissing him with more urgency this time, my hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my fingertips. His body was firm under my touch, and the sensation sent another rush of heat through me. I pressed closer to him, my lips hungry for more, and he responded in kind, his hands roaming over my back.

My pulse raced, and I felt the world narrowing down to just the two of us—the heat of our bodies, the taste of his lips, the way his hands moved over me, every touch igniting something deeper, something I couldn’t control.

Then, out of nowhere, his phone buzzed.

We both froze, breathless, still tangled together. I pulled back just slightly, still feeling the heat of his breath on my lips. "You should get that," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my ears.

Hugh let out a low groan of frustration but reluctantly reached for his phone. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “It’s Ryan.”

I smirked, trying to catch my breath. Of course, it was Ryan.

Hugh answered, still holding me close as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Hey, mate.” he greeted casually, though I could hear the slight edge of impatience in his voice.

Ryan’s voice was loud enough that I could hear him through the phone. “So, dinner at our place today? You and y/n should come by.”

Hugh blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. “How do you know y/n's with me?”

Ryan’s laugh was almost smug. “Call it a hunch.”

Hugh shook his head, glancing at me with a playful smile. “You in?”

I nodded, still a bit breathless, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt. “Sure.”

He confirmed with Ryan and then hung up, looking back at me with a soft smile. “Let’s go for a walk before dinner.”

I grinned. The idea of sneaking through the streets with him was somehow exciting. But then reality hit. “You should probably… go get changed." I suggested, glancing down at the clothes he was wearing. "Something more undercover."

Hugh nodded, gently setting me next to him and standing up. "I'll swing by my place and change. Give me a few minutes, and I'll come back for you."

He pressed one more quick kiss to my forehead before heading out the door, leaving me sitting there, my heart still racing from the kiss. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to calm the fire that was still burning inside me. It was impossible to believe that just a few moments ago, I had been straddling Hugh Jackman in my living room, kissing him like my life depended on it.

True to his word, Hugh returned not long after, dressed down in a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a hoodie, looking like a celebrity who's trying to avoid attention. I slipped on a casual jacket and sunglasses, and we headed out, blending into the afternoon crowds as we walked through the streets of New York.

As we wandered, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about work—how his latest project was going, how I was handling mine. We shared stories and joked about the craziness of the industry, but somewhere along the way, the conversation grew more personal. Hugh asked me about my childhood, about the things that made me who I was, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t expected.

He told me stories about his kids, about how Oscar was so curious about everything, how Ava was growing into her own person, full of ideas and opinions. Hearing him talk about them made me see another side of him—so caring, so deeply connected to his family. It only made me like him more.

We asked each other questions that weren’t surface level, diving into the things that really mattered, like what we wanted in life, what we were afraid of. The more we talked, the more I realized again how easy it was to be with him, how natural it felt.

Before I knew it, hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky. We made our way back to my apartment, where Hugh dropped me off so I could get ready for dinner at Blake and Ryan’s. He gave me one short peck before heading back to his place to change.

As I stood in front of my mirror, touching up my makeup and fixing my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, about how right it had felt. Today had been full of surprises, but for the first time, I wasn’t scared of where this might lead. Hugh and I were taking it slow, figuring things out as we went, and somehow, that was enough for now.

When Hugh came back to pick me up, we were both ready for whatever the rest of the day had in store. We were in this together.

The moment we stepped through the door at Blake and Ryan’s, the familiar sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor reached my ears. Before I knew it, all three of their daughters—James, Betty, and Inez—came running toward us, their faces lighting up in excitement.

“Y/n! Hugh!” they squealed in unison, their voices high-pitched with joy.

I couldn’t help but grin as I bent down to greet them, enveloping each one of them in a warm hug. Hugh followed suit, gently embracing them, his face soft with affection. Ryan stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful smile on his face.

“I swear, they get more excited when you two show up than when Blake and I come home." Ryan quipped, shaking his head as if the betrayal was real.

I chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair as she beamed up at me. “Well, I mean, we are the fun ones.”

Blake walked up behind him, smirking as she shrugged her shoulders. “Can you really blame them?” she said, giving Ryan a teasing nudge.

Before I could respond, the seven-year-old James grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the living room. “Come on, y/n! I want to show you something!”

I let her guide me into the cozy room, where Penny and Baxter, the two dogs, were lounging lazily on the floor. James hurried over to a corner piled high with toys and grabbed two Barbie dolls, her excitement radiating off her.

“Look!” she said, holding up the first Barbie. “This one looks just like you!” The doll was dressed in sporty clothes that reminded me of what I’d worn in my recent Instagram post. “And this one." she added, grabbing the second doll, “looks like Mommy.”

I laughed softly, touched by her creativity. “Wow, you nailed it! I can totally see the resemblance.”

As I sat down with her to admire her Barbie collection, I noticed Hugh standing in the doorway, his smile widening as he watched us. But before he could come over, Betty and Inez had already ambushed him, grabbing onto his legs and giggling uncontrollably.

“Hugh! Hugh!” Inez exclaimed, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his legs. “Can we watch the Minions again? Please? Pleeease?”

Betty chimed in, nodding with equal enthusiasm. “Yeah, can we?”

Ryan strolled into the room, laughing as he leaned against the doorframe. “Again? How many times have you guys watched that now? Fifty? Sixty?”

Hugh chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair. “Maybe after dinner, alright? You two might know it better than I do at this point.”

Just then, Blake called out from the dining room, “Okay, everyone, dinner’s ready! Let’s give Hugh a break and get some food in your bellies first.”

We all made our way to the dining room, and as I sat down at the beautifully set table, I couldn’t help but admire the spread. Blake had outdone herself again.

“This looks incredible!" I commented as I took my seat, glancing appreciatively at the dishes laid out before us.

Blake smiled, waving off the compliment. “Ah, it’s nothing. Ryan helped, too.”

Ryan straightened in his chair, pretending to be the world’s greatest chef. “Yeah, I practically made the entire thing,” he boasted, earning a playful elbow to the side from Blake.

While we ate and talked about today's events, I noticed that James, Betty, and Inez had already finished their meals. The three of them looked up at Blake and Ryan with wide, pleading eyes.

"Mom, Dad, can we go play with Penny and Baxter now? Please?" James asked, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Ryan exchanged a glance with Blake before nodding. "Alright, you three can go. Just don’t feed the dogs under the table again." he added with a mock sternness that made the girls giggle.

The kids squealed and scrambled out of their chairs, racing back toward the living room where the dogs were waiting for them. Blake shook her head fondly as she watched them go, and we all settled back into the conversation.

I was right in the middle of talking about something funny that had happened at work when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I excused myself, stepping outside to take the call. When I saw Chris Evans’ name on the screen, I smiled.

“Hey, Chris!” I greeted, leaning against the side of the house.

“Y/n!" Chris’s voice came through with its usual warmth. “I’m heading down to New York tomorrow. Wanna grab a beer?”

I smiled. “Absolutely! Let’s meet at the pub we always go to. How’s 7 p.m.?”

“Perfect!" Chris replied. “Looking forward to catching up.”

We wrapped up the conversation, and I headed back inside. As I slipped into my seat, Hugh gave me a gentle smile and placed his hand on my leg under the table, his touch grounding me.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking my thigh in a way that sent a small wave of comfort through me.

I nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah, all good. Just Chris Evans. He’s coming to New York tomorrow, so we’re grabbing a drink.”

Ryan’s ears perked up immediately, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, Captain America, huh? Should Hugh be worried?”

Blake chuckled beside him, clearly in on the joke. I rolled my eyes, laughing. “No, no need to worry. Chris is like an older brother to me.”

Hugh looked intrigued, glancing between Ryan and me. “You and Chris go way back?”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair as I began to explain. “Yeah, Chris, Scarlett Johansson, and I studied together in New York when we were both starting out. They were a few years ahead of me, but we ended up in the same acting workshops. We hit it off and became good friends.”

Blake leaned forward, curiosity written all over her face. “Oh, you never told me your stories of university! You must have some great ones.”

Ryan grinned. “Come on, spill! Any embarrassing moments with Captain America and Black Widow?”

I laughed. “Oh, tons. Like the time they got lost in Central Park for two hours and missed class. Scarlett shook it off, but Chris was so mortified, and we all gave him a hard time for it.”

Ryan cracked up at the image, and Hugh smiled, though I could tell he was focused on every word. “That sounds like him." Ryan said. “Always such a big goof.”

Blake leaned closer, clearly digging for more. “Didn’t you two do a movie together a few years back? Weren’t there some pretty steamy scenes in that one?”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at the memory. “Yeah, we did." I admitted, chuckling. “It was a bit... awkward, though, because by then, Chris really did feel more like a brother to me.”

Ryan, however, wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily. “Wait, so it wasn’t always that way?”

I hesitated for a beat, then shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Well.. back when we were in school, we might’ve had a little... thing. You know, one of those fleeting ‘we’re young and in New York’ flings. But it didn’t last long. Now, he’s definitely more of a brother figure.”

Blake’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth as she burst out laughing. “Y/n! You never told me you and Chris had a fling!”

Ryan nearly doubled over in laughter, slapping the table. “Oh my god, Hugh, you hearing this? Captain America and y/n!”

Hugh laughed, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I noticed the slight tension in his jaw. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, glancing at me with a mix of amusement and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

Blake continued to laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but laughing along with them. “It was a long time ago! And honestly, when we filmed that movie, it just felt... weird. I mean, trying to be sexy with someone who you now see as a brother? Not the easiest thing.”

Ryan wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I bet those scenes were really uncomfortable to shoot.”

“They were." I admitted, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. “But Chris was a total professional about it.”

Hugh remained quiet for a moment, still smiling, but I could tell something about the story didn’t sit quite right with him.

“So, what was it like studying here in New York? It sounds like it was a pretty wild time.” Blake wiggled with her eyebrows.

I grinned, thinking back to those chaotic, exciting days. “It definitely had its moments. The city was also back then a constant whirlwind. We were all broke, doing odd jobs between auditions, but somehow, it was the best time of my life.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet. Was it all method acting and deep emotional discovery, or were you guys just trying to out-party each other?”

I laughed. “A little bit of both, honestly. There were definitely nights when we all showed up to class with way too little sleep.”

Ryan smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “And Captain America was part of those late-night adventures?”

I rolled my eyes. “Chris was usually the responsible one, believe it or not. He’d be the guy dragging everyone out of some dive bar at 2 a.m., telling us we had early classes. Of course, he wasn’t always that responsible...”

Hugh’s interest was piqued, his eyes twinkling. “You and Chris really went through it together, huh?”

I nodded, smiling at the memories. “Yeah, we had a lot of fun. We’d rehearse scenes together, mess around in the park, just being broke, and ambitious kids trying to make it.”

Ryan, never missing a beat, chimed in again. “So what you’re saying is, if Chris wasn’t Captain America, he could’ve been, I dunno, some Shakespearean actor, dragging everyone through intense rehearsals and then buying them all hot dogs afterward?”

I laughed. “Exactly! The perfect balance of intense and laid-back.”

"What other stories do you have up your sleeve?" Ryan grinned and put his arm around his wife.

“Well.. while studying, I also worked as a barista, and believe me, I was a terrible barista.” I started, chuckling at the memory.

Blake raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Wait, you worked at a coffee shop?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I needed to pay rent somehow, so I got a job at this little café near campus. It was my first day, and I was already a nervous wreck. The owner was this sweet, older man—kind of like a grandpa figure to everyone. But I was so jittery that when he came over to check how I was doing, I somehow managed to spill an entire tray of coffee and raspberry cake all over him.”

Everyone at the table burst into laughter, especially Ryan, who wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s priceless. What did he do?”

I grinned at the memory. “He just stood there for a second, covered in coffee, and then he started laughing. He looked at me and said, ‘Well, at least you didn’t burn me.’ From then on, he teased me about it every single shift. He’d walk past me and say, ‘Careful, y/n, hot beverages on the loose!’ It was actually really sweet.”

Blake smiled, shaking her head. “Sounds like he was a good guy.”

“Yeah, he was the best." I agreed. “Honestly, he was one of the reasons I stuck around for so long.”

Hugh, who had been listening intently, suddenly leaned forward with a small smile. “Well, since we’re sharing job stories… the ladies might not know this, but before I became an actor, I was a P.E. teacher in England.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? You were a teacher? That’s crazy!”

Ryan immediately jumped in with a wide grin. “Oh man, y/n, can you imagine if Hugh had been your teacher back then? You would’ve been the star student in P.E., right?”

I felt my cheeks flush, laughing at the absurd thought. “Honestly, if Hugh had been my teacher, I think I would’ve suddenly developed an intense love for sports.”

Blake burst out laughing while Hugh chuckled, shaking his head at our comments. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that would’ve been appropriate,” Hugh said, still smiling, though his ears were a little pink.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Hey, you never know. Maybe you’d have inspired her to get into, I don’t know, gymnastics or something.”

Blake swatted Ryan on the arm, but she was laughing just as hard. “Leave them alone! Besides, I bet Hugh was an amazing teacher.”

Hugh shrugged modestly. “It was a good job, honestly. I loved working with the kids, but eventually, I realized my passion was acting.”

I turned to him, still amazed. “That’s so cool, though. I would’ve never guessed. You’ve had quite the journey.”

He smiled warmly at me, and I could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes, as if the memories of his teaching days still meant something to him. “It was definitely a unique chapter in my life. But hey, everything leads you somewhere, right?”

Ryan couldn’t resist one more joke, leaning in with a sly grin. “Yeah, and luckily, it led you to us, huh?”

The conversation slowed down after that, everyone quietly soaking in the warmth of the room and each other’s company. Blake glanced around the table, then clapped her hands together.

“Well, how about we clear the table and grab some wine?”

Hugh and I immediately stood up, ready to help, but Blake waved us off. “Oh no, you two relax. Ryan and I have it covered.”

Ryan was already stacking plates and giving us a wink. “Yeah, sit tight, lovebirds.”

As we sat back down, Hugh placed his hand gently on my thigh, his touch making me feel all warm and cozy inside. He smiled at me, that tender look in his eyes that always made my heart skip a beat.

Feeling a bit giddy, I leaned in closer to him and whispered. “Do you think we should tell them about us now? Or wait until another time?”

Hugh’s thumb rubbed small circles against my leg as he considered it. “Yeah, let’s tell them. They’re our best friends—they should know we’re giving this a shot.”

His quiet confidence soothed the last of my nerves, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, just as the door to the dining room swung open, and Ryan strutted back in, carrying wine glasses.

“Ohohoh! What’s this? What did I just miss?” he teased, his voice dripping with mock shock. “And don’t forget, there are children in this house!”

Blake followed right behind him, her eyes darting between us, a curious smile playing on her lips. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, setting down a bottle of wine.

Hugh chuckled softly and glanced at me before addressing them both. “Actually, we wanted to tell you guys something. Y/n and I... well, we’re trying this thing out. We’re seeing where it goes.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Blake and Ryan exchanged looks, their expressions quickly morphing into wide grins. Blake let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Oh my god! You talked!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You two are adorable!”

Ryan set down the glasses with a loud clink, looking between Hugh and me with that signature playful grin of his. “Well, it’s about damn time! You guys have been giving off major will-they-won’t-they vibes for ages.”

Blake nodded enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

Their support and enthusiasm washed over me, easing any lingering uncertainty I had. Hugh squeezed my hand under the table, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him, grateful for how effortlessly everything seemed to fall into place.

Ryan, never one to miss a joke, raised his glass toward us. “Here’s to y/n and Hugh—and to all the future awkward family dinners where we can tease you both relentlessly.”

Blake snorted with laughter, pouring everyone a glass of wine. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. Sometimes.”

We all raised our glasses, clinking them together in a toast to new beginnings.

The conversation flowed easily as we all continued to drink our wine, sharing more stories and laughing until our glasses were empty. Eventually, we decided to join the kids in the living room. As soon as we walked in, Inez grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her pile of Barbies, while Penny and Baxter trotted over to greet us.

I sat on the floor with one hand helping Inez arrange her Barbies while my other hand stroked Baxter, who had curled up next to me. The rest of the group settled on the couches, chatting and laughing as the kids played around us.

We spent a while there enjoying the comfortable, laid-back atmosphere, but eventually, I felt a yawn escape me. Ryan noticed it immediately and pointed dramatically.

“Alright, I think it’s official—time for all the kids to head to bed!” he teased, earning a laugh from Blake and a chorus of giggles from the actual children.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I guess I walked right into that one.”

Blake stood up and stretched, signaling that the evening was winding down. “Yeah, we should probably wrap things up before we have to carry anyone out of here.”

We all said our goodbyes, exchanging hugs and thanking each other for the great night. As we stepped outside, Hugh and I found ourselves standing by our cars, lingering in the cool night air.

I smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering between us. “So, what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

Hugh shrugged lightly. “Not too exciting, honestly. I’m helping a friend with some work on his house in the morning, then I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and after that, I’m calling my brother to talk about my visit in Sydney to catch up with my family.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a busy day. Hometown huh?"

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone." he said softly, then smiled at me. “What about you? Plans with Chris?”

I grinned, the thought of seeing Chris again making me feel both nostalgic and excited. “Yeah, but we’re not meeting until the evening for a drink. Until then I'll call my parents because I promised them last week and after that I'll meet up with my management."

For a moment, we stood there, the air between us feeling charged in a quiet, tender way. After a small pause, we leaned into each other at the same time. He wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other hand found its way to my cheek. Our lips met in a slow, tentative kiss.

When we pulled away, there was a comfortable silence between us, our eyes lingering on each other as if neither of us wanted to say goodbye just yet. I gently stroked my hands over his shoulders down to his chest.

“Well." I said, my voice a little softer than usual. "I guess I’ll see you soon. Good night."

Hugh nodded, his smile warm and easy. “Yeah, good night y/n. Text me when you're home."

"Will do." I smiled.

With that, we each got into our cars, and as I drove home, my mind wandered back to the evening—Blake and Ryan’s support, the kids, the laughter, the stories, and of course, the kisses. My heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about tomorrow’s meeting with Chris.

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Tags: @spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris

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imreidswifey · 5 days ago

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A Glossy Secret

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid walks into the BAU, oblivious to the fact that his lips are faintly shimmering with pink lip gloss from a quick goodbye kiss with Y/n that morning. His colleagues immediately notice, and what starts as a normal day quickly turns into a day of teasing and speculation about Reid’s mysterious romantic life. Meanwhile, Y/n, realizing the mistake from her smudged lip gloss at her own workplace, calls to warn him—only to discover it’s far too late.

A/n: this was so fun to make. Hope you enjoy. Please make any request that you have.

Warnings:

Fluff: This story is lighthearted, filled with teasing and affectionate humor.

Embarrassment/Secondhand Embarrassment: Expect Reid to endure some awkward moments (but nothing mean-spirited).

Mentions of romantic relationships: Focused on Reid and Y/n’s relationship, though nothing explicit.

Mild workplace humor: Includes playful banter among coworkers.

———————————————————————————

It was a peaceful morning at the BAU, the type of lull before a storm that Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to over the years. He walked into the bullpen, completely immersed in the book he was balancing precariously on his hand—a dense tome on quantum mechanics. His usual messenger bag bumped against his hip, and his unkempt hair, slightly more unruly than usual, fell into his eyes.

“Morning, Pretty Boy,” Derek Morgan called out from his desk, lifting a steaming mug of coffee to his lips.

“Good morning, Reid!” Penelope Garcia chirped from her corner, her bright outfit sparkling under the fluorescent lights.

“Morning,” JJ added with a warm smile as she walked in behind him.

“Morning,” Reid mumbled absently, his eyes still glued to the page in front of him. He made his way to his desk and dropped his bag beside his chair. Completely unaware of the amused glances being exchanged around the room, he continued reading, occasionally flipping a page or jotting down a note in the margins.

Morgan’s sharp eyes were the first to notice. He leaned back in his chair, squinting at Reid. Something wasn’t quite right. He tilted his head, trying to put his finger on it. Then it hit him.

“Reid…” Morgan started, a smirk spreading across his face.

Reid hummed in response, not looking up.

“You trying out a new look or something?” Morgan asked, setting his coffee down with an exaggeratedly casual motion.

Reid blinked, finally tearing his eyes from his book. “What are you talking about?”

Morgan pointed to his own lips. “That little shimmer you’ve got going on there. Pretty bold choice for you, genius.”

“What shimmer?” Reid frowned, running the back of his hand across his mouth. He glanced down at his hand, confused when he didn’t see anything unusual.

Emily Prentiss, overhearing the exchange, made her way over with her arms crossed. “Oh my god, is that… lip gloss?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and amusement.

“Lip gloss?” Reid repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Hotch stepped out of his office, his brows raised in a rare moment of curiosity. Rossi wandered in from the break room, holding a bagel and clearly enjoying the spectacle. Even JJ leaned against her desk, an entertained smile playing on her lips.

“You’ve got some color, Reid,” Prentiss teased, leaning closer to inspect. “Nice shade of pink. Who’s the lucky one?”

Reid’s eyes widened in horror as he began to frantically search for something reflective. “I don’t—I wasn’t—this must be some kind of mistake—”

“Sure it is,” JJ said with a wink. “Come on, Reid, you’re among friends. Spill it.”

As the teasing escalated, Reid’s phone buzzed on his desk. Grateful for the distraction, he snatched it up without checking the caller ID. “Hello?” he said, his voice unusually high-pitched.

On the other end, Y/n’s voice came through, slightly out of breath and clearly frazzled. “Spencer! Oh my god, I just looked in the mirror at work. My lip gloss… it smudged on you when we kissed goodbye this morning! I’m so sorry—I didn’t even realize until now.”

Reid closed his eyes, groaning quietly. “Y/n, you’re a little late with that warning.”

There was a pause. Then Y/n gasped. “They noticed, didn’t they?”

Reid glanced up at his team, who were now openly laughing, their earlier teasing turning into full-blown amusement. Morgan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and chuckling. Prentiss was grinning like she’d just found the juiciest piece of gossip, and Garcia was typing something furiously, no doubt documenting the moment for posterity.

“Oh, they noticed,” Reid said dryly.

On the other end of the line, Y/n burst into laughter. “Oh no. I’m so sorry! Should I send flowers? Chocolate? A resignation letter?”

Reid sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You owe me dinner.”

“Done,” Y/n said, still laughing. “Good luck with them. Love you.”

Reid hung up and set his phone down, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he prepared for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

“So…” Garcia said, perching on the edge of his desk with a mischievous glint in her eye. “When do we get to meet the mystery person responsible for this fabulous makeover?”

Reid’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Can we just… focus on the casework, please?”

“No casework yet,” Rossi said, biting into his bagel. “So we’ve got time. Spill it, lover boy.”

“I’m not—there’s nothing to spill!” Reid stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

“Reid,” Morgan said, leaning forward with a grin. “You’ve got a secret girlfriend, don’t you? How long were you planning on keeping this from us?”

“I don’t have a secret girlfriend,” Reid muttered.

“Secret boyfriend, then?” Garcia asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“Not helping, Garcia,” Reid said, his tone flat.

Despite his protests, the team continued their good-natured teasing. Reid buried his face in a case file, silently vowing to never leave the house again without checking a mirror. But as much as he tried to hide it, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, the memory of Y/n’s laughter warming his embarrassment.

“Hey, Reid,” Prentiss said, her tone softening slightly. “For what it’s worth, we’re happy for you. Whoever they are, they’ve got good taste.”

Reid glanced up, his blush still firmly in place. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

The teasing didn’t stop, of course, but it was moments like this that reminded him how lucky he was to have his team—his family. Even if they were relentless about his accidental lip gloss incident.

———————————————————————————

Part 2?

Hope you Enjoyed!

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miguelhugger2099 · 11 months ago

Note

Hello can I request a Miguel ohara x spiderwoman reader, where the readers baby (kid or sibling) sneak into HQ without them knowing it and Miguel is force to babysit the baby with the reader?

such a cute request !!! more miguel with babies !!! (in a non traumatic way)

Miguel x Reader, Fluff, Word Count: 1,357

You were running late to head to HQ, hastily shoving your foot into the space of your spider suit. You pick up your bagel from the counter to take a large bite before sliding your arms through the sleeves and zipping yourself up as best as you could. You looked over at the couch, seeing your baby brother passed out, his little arm dangling off the cushion while his other arm held your Spider-Woman figure close to his chest. Having a bit of peace of mind, you decided that it was alright for you to leave while you had the chance until your mother could get home. Lifting up your Gizmo, you placed it around your wrist and typed in the numbers for Miguel’s dimension. The usual warping started, lifting your home trinkets in the air and giving a breeze that was trying to suck in its wormhole. The familiar hexagon grows inside your home, flashing lights and you put on your mask before jumping in–failing to notice that the noise made a certain toddler wake up. Landing on your feet, you found yourself on the beam that leads to Miguel’s office. You greeted a few other Spider-People and Peters while jogging past them. They waved back and some let out a few chuckles which would’ve confused you if you weren’t so focused on trying to not be so late. When the doors opened up, you slowed down your jogging to a normal walk to pretend you weren’t hauling ass and to calm your racing heart. You took a peek around the corner to see Miguel on his usual platform, typing and swiping away yellow hologram screens. You take a deep breath and swallow. “Miguel.” You call out. He doesn’t move an inch when he hears you and continues to pull up another video recording. “You’re late.” He says, his soft voice echoing in the giant room. You wince and purse your lips. “Just a bit. I’m sorry. I woke up late, my baby brother was restless and–”

“Doesn’t matter. Just get up here.” Miguel motions you up to his high platform with his hand. You then use your web shooter to stick onto the hunk of metal and swing yourself up beside him. “So what’s the quota for today?” You ask, going into work mode as his right hand. Miguel pulls up a few monitors to show you glimpses of camera footage of anomalies around different dimensions. “We just need to bring as much back to their homes. Lyla hasn’t detected any further canon events.” You nod along, peering into the footage and unsuspecting to the little toddler waddling inside with a toy in his hand. He stumbles a bit, falling to his knees and hands and dropping the toy with a soft clank. Due to how high you and Miguel were, you could barely hear it. He grunts as he gets up, patting the imaginary dust off himself and picking up the toy version of you. Once he picks it up, he lifts it high up in the air with a worried look that this little toy version of you had been damaged or scratched. His eyes go in and out of focus as he notices two figures in the air on the platform you were standing on. Slowly, he makes the connection that the toy and you were in the same room. He had found you! He giggles happily and calls out your name with his own squeaky voice. Your and Miguel’s head snap down to look at the noise and you gasp loudly, calling out his own name in return with worry.

You quickly rip off your mask and swing down to him, collecting him in your arms. “What–how–What are you doing here?!” You whisper-yell at him, which he giggles at. “There–there was a big–whoosh–and I woke up and you went in and I went here!” He explains, using his little toy figure to give a visual explanation. “What happened?” You hear Miguel ask from above. “Nothing–Just–Nothing!” You try to hide your brother from Miguel to avoid looking irresponsible. “Come back up here.” He says. You brother tries to peek through your hair up at Miguel before you use your webs to swing back up to the platform. “I’m so sorry, Miguel. My brother–he–I think he followed me into the portal without me knowing. My mom was supposed to be home after I left but now that he’s here, she probably thinks I’m taking care of him…” You ramble on and on all while your brother reaches out to Miguel, curious and admiring his gigantic build and cool look. You try to hold him back, another apology ready to spill out your lips when Miguel reaches out and takes your brother in his hands. It’s uncomfortable for a moment, but Miguel stays neutral. Miguel carefully cradles your brother in his arms, shifting him around to rest him on his hip. Your brother looks up at Miguel with wonder and then looks at you, finally connecting the dots that you’re in your spider suit. “She–she’s not, um, Spider-Woomin.” He shakes his head and rests his head on Miguel’s shoulder, picking up the toy's arm up and down. He then glances at you with his eyes and gives you a smile–since he kept his promise of not telling anyone you’re a superhero. You laugh a dry chuckle–the promise only being meant for people in your universe instead of your literal boss–but you pat his head anyway.

You look up at Miguel apologetically. “I’m really sorry about this Miguel. God, it was so dangerous for him to portal here and be her. I–I’ll take him home.” You try to scoop him out of Miguel’s hands but he subtly tightens your brother in his arms. “It’s fine,” He says softly. “I don’t mind. If there’s no one home to care for him, he can stay here,” He shrugs and looks down at your brother mindlessly making your toy fly in the air. “Peter brings Mayday all the time, Jess just had Gerry–really your brother wouldn’t be a problem.” He assures you. “Are you sure…?” You ask hesitantly, wincing that he’s just being too nice. You then noticed the platform come to a stop at the ground. Miguel had lowered the three of you down so he could let the child roam freely without hurting himself. He places him down but he chooses to stay seated by Miguel’s side, growing fonder of him. “Yes,” Miguel says. “It’s no problem.” He places a hand on your shoulder and you stiffen softly at the physical contact. Your brother watches up at you two, nibbling on the toy’s head. You relax, seeing and feeling how he means it–he really doesn’t mind. “Alright.” You smile up at him and can even see just a glimpse of his own. For the remainder of the day, you and Miguel switch between holding your brother when he wants to be held and entertaining him when he’s bored. The toddler would often try to bother Miguel, which he didn’t mind and you apologized for, so he would take him in his arms and Miguel would lead you through the various files and direct you what to do while he held him. At some point, your brother began whining and wanting food in a sleepy state. Miguel offered the cafeteria to you and you both went in hopes that your brother would want to find something to eat before having his nap. While on the way, Miguel holds the sleepy child in his arms, your brother's little arms barely even wrapping around Miguel’s broad neck. Other spiders look with wide eyes and murmuring amongst themselves.

“Did they ‘ave a kid?” Hobie mutters to Gwen. Gwen looks around him to see Miguel holding your brother carefully in his arms while you try feeding bits and pieces of some chicken nuggets and slices of apples. “No,” She looks back up at Hobie with a frown before it drops and she takes a double take to see the soft happy look on Miguel’s face while you feed the child. “No…right?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I have heard the unanimous pro-long chapter response, and present you with 9.3k words of plot progression and 10k words of banter, backstory, and a secret third thing. Enjoy! Chapter Title is from Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 19k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben makes a choice, and you try something new. Self-inflicted starvation and unhealthy contraceptives.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

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

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

The sun had long risen into the sky before Ben moved from her side. He hadn’t slept, only watched her chest rise and fall in smooth movements and failed to smother the thing in his chest—how it would've been content there forever—before realizing he needed to piss, and no amount of stupid, confusing fucking feelings could make him hold it longer.

After, instead of returning to the bed, Ben left her room and made his way down to the kitchen. He put the coffee on, roughly spreading something called “strawberry cream cheese” She’d introduced him to across a bagel—it was almost as good as crack, and given that the CIA was full of uptight pussies who wouldn’t buy him the real shit, it had to do—as he waited for it to brew. When it finished, Ben poured half into a mug—leaving the rest for Her to find—before dropping himself at the counter.

He ate in silence, listening to Her heartbeat upstairs, and thought once more about Butcher’s offer. Homelander’s offer. He’d wanted to tell Her, ask for whatever inevitable fucking opinion she would have about how he should answer. She was good at it, this planning and thinking shit, and Ben had yet to see her falter at any useless moral hurdles. He’d figured out Her hard line—no innocents—but when it came to the opposition, she didn’t pull punches. Metaphorical punches. Despite Ben’s best efforts, She was still far more fucking bark than bite.

He hadn’t mentioned it though, because she’d shut down and it suddenly hadn’t felt that fucking important anymore. And now, after the shitshow last night, Ben wasn’t going to. He could make the fucking call himself, because he was a grown ass fucking man. Because Ben was more than damn capable of meeting with Homelander and coming out unscathed.

It wasn’t because Ben fucking knew She’d tell him to do it, and then bitch at him until she’d weaseled her way into the meeting.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want Her anywhere fucking near the meeting and the star-spangled pussy in attendance.

So—when he heard Her start to shuffle in her room, moving around for a few minutes before the door opened and she made her way downstairs—Ben decided he’d figure it out, call Butcher by his own goddamn self, and She wouldn’t have to know anything about it until well fucking after.

“Morning, Pretty Boy.” She mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen and trying to blink herself awake.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Ben tried—and failed—not to smile at her less-than-ladylike demeanor and let out a low chuckle as She ran fully into the counter with a yelp. “Sleep well?” He knew She had, but he enjoyed her still-sleepy scowl too much not to ask.

“Fuck off.” She grumbled, and he laughed.

“Welcome back, bitch.”

“Cunt,” she mumbled half-heartedly, rubbing her eyes. “Coffee?”

Ben pointed to the pot, and She let out a satisfied noise that made the Thing in his chest fucking whine like a pussy.

“All for me?” She asked with a slack smile at Ben.

“All for you,” he grumbled. “But it’s getting cold, and I’m not making you fucking more.”

She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the shelves. “Any news from the Boys?”

“Nope,” Ben watched Her pour the coffee, and something squeezed around his ribs as the lie left him. “They fucking benched us until they figure out what to do with the news.”

“About what Firecracker said?” She said softly, staring down at her now full mug.

Ben grunted an affirmation, She let out a sad little sigh, and the damn fucking Thing wanted to grab her again. “Maybe Butcher will finally fucking use the information the red-haired broad gave him, and it’ll get shit moving again.”

She frowned at him, and her heart skipped a single beat. “You mean Ashley?”

“Sure,” Ben said with an eye roll. “There’s a lot of fucking people, Sunshine. I can’t be expected to remember every pussy idiot I meet.”

She let out a low laugh, and the Thing was insufferably fucking pleased. “Fair enough.”

Ben waited for Her to share whatever thoughts he’d been certain she’d have about Ashley and the information, but She only sat at his side, looking up at him with a small smile. The Thing in Ben’s chest was starting to be fucking problem, because it was so goddamn satisfied that She was talking to him again it didn’t want to push her for answers. Ben only barely managed to overpower it and ask, “The fuck you think is taking that pussy so long?”

She raised her brows. “Which pussy are we talking about now?”

“Butcher. And the information.” He didn’t miss the slightest increase in Her heart rate, despite her bored shrug.

“Dunno.” Before Ben could ask more questions, she continued. “Does everyone know I’m awake?”

“No,” Ben scowled. “How would I have fucking told them?”

She let out a hum. “Touché.” She stood once more, taking her mug with her. “I’m gonna go call Annie and get changed, I’ll meet you back here after.”

“Get changed?” Ben grabbed Her arm before she could leave his side. “For fucking what?”

“Training.” She grinned down at him. “I’m going to kick your fucking ass for calling me a ‘goddamn idiot’ while I was crying.”

“I got you to stop fucking wallowing. And fucking stayed with you all goddamn night like you begged me to.” Ben jabbed, and Her smile grew.

She leaned forward, holding his gaze with her own.

“I’ve never begged you for anything, Pretty Boy. It’s going to take a fucking miracle for me to start now.” The Thing roared so loud at her words that Ben’s grip grew slack, and She pulled her arm away. “This will take twenty minutes, and then I’m going to wipe the floor with your fucking face.”

She left the room, leaving Ben in the kitchen, alone, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. He almost stood from the counter, ready to march after Her and demand some sort of fucking elaboration—he wasn’t even sure for what, just that She wasn’t fucking allowed to say shit like that and walk away—but Ben had barely shifted before he realized his dick was fucking hard, and chasing after Her was no longer an option.

Ben had twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to take care of his boner, figure out how to smother the Thing for good, and get his fucking shit in order. She was just another woman, just another pretty face. He’d gotten hard-ons from a lot less and jerked himself off a lot faster. This was no fucking different. She was no fucking different. Just another fucking pretty face.

Beautiful, the Thing reminded him. She’s not just pretty. She’s beautiful.

If his boner wasn’t starting to be fucking painful, Ben would’ve spent the entire twenty minutes trying to figure out how to make the Thing shut the fuck up.

He made his way upstairs, steps faltering outside Her door as he listened to her move around inside like a fucking creep.

“I’m fine,” she was saying to someone, probably fucking Starlight or Cocksucker. It hadn’t escaped Ben how they were the only fuckers who really ever asked Her. “I promise. Don’t worry about me, Annie, I’m really okay.”

Ben scowled at the door, almost forgetting about his angry hard-on as the memory of Her curled up, shaking with despair less than twelve hours ago, flashed in his head.

“Are you sure?” Starlight’s voice was slightly static. “Because if you need a break from Soldier Boy to deal with this we can figure something out.”

Ben was going to kill the bitch, consequences be fucking damned. He was only fucking seconds away from barging into the room, from giving Starlight a descriptive warning of how he was going to fuck her face up so much Cocksucker left her, when he heard Her sharp, quick answer.

“No.” Her voice sounded almost panicked. “I’m staying here. I don’t need a break from Ben. Please, I’m good, he’s good, everything is fine. I don’t want-“ She cut herself off slightly, and Ben heard the flutter of her heart. “It’s good here. Ben’s good. Don’t worry about us.”

Ben’s good, Her voice echoed in his head, and the Thing was pounding against him. Ben’s good.

He needed to fucking move before he barged into Her room and demanded to know what the fuck she meant by Ben’s good. He needed to take care of himself before She saw him, and he had to come up with a lie about why he was standing outside her door with a boner.

Ben barely managed not to slam his door behind him—an action he knew She’d hear and barge in to demand what was making him so pissy—and dropped onto his bed, practically ripping his own pants and underwear off. He closed his eyes, took a strong breath, and began to fucking his fist with rough abandon. It just had to be fucking fast, he just had to find fucking relief before She came looking for him.

The Thing had other plans. The Thing wanted to take its time, to listen to Her heartbeat only doors away, and to imagine her there, how her heartbeat would race as he fucked her. The Thing was offering Ben countless fantasies to choose from. Her under him as he fucked her stupid. Her on his lap, tits bouncing as he slammed up into her. Her on her knees, mouth wide open, drool falling down her chin, his hand in her hair. In every one She moaned and whined, but the one that made him almost feral, made his hand move faster along his length than Ben had thought possible, was the one where She was up against his wall, legs around his waist, begging.

Ben, a phantom of Her voice moaned into his ear. Please.

This feel like a fucking miracle, Sunshine? Ben’s own voice growled through his head. I feel fucking good?

“Ben?” Her voice, her real voice, sounded from outside his door, and Ben bucked up into his fist. “You in there?”

“I’m-“ He bit down a groan. “I’m busy, Sunshine.” Then, just to keep Her there, maybe hear her voice again, he called out again. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“No!” He shouted, struggling to come up with a fucking reason for Her not to come in, an effort not made any damn easier by the Thing practically straining for Her. “I’m- fuck. ” Ben swore under his breath, feeling real damn thankful she didn’t have supe-hearing. “I’m fucking changing!”

“Oh,” Her voice had an edge Ben didn’t understand, but her heart stammered into a faster pace, and the Thing grabbed onto the sound and dragged him closer to the edge. “The call went faster than I thought. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” Even as her tone returned to its usual amused droll, her heart didn’t slow. “Get fucking ready, Pretty Boy. I’m going to make you regret being born.”

Ben bit down another groan. He was so fucking close, just a little fucking further- “I’ll make you fucking beg, Sunshine.” The words were low, through gritted teeth as he hovered on that edge- He didn’t even fully mean for Her to hear-

“I’d like to see you try, Ben.” She said, and that fucking did it. Her words, her heartbeat, her tone as she drawled his name, the smug grin Ben could see fucking perfectly in his head—they all grabbed him and yanked him over.

“ Brat,” he grunted as his relief burst from him, finding every fucking surface in the room.

“Cunt,” She pushed back, and Ben wasn’t sure if it was the Thing simply making him a fucking idiot or not, but the edge in her voice sounded fucking breathy. Her heart fucking faltered. For a very long second, Ben waited fucking pathetically for her to say something more, praying like a goddamn pussy for Her to burst into the room and fulfill all those fantasies still lingering in his head, but her heart faded down the hall with her steps, and Ben was left with only himself and his mess.

It took Ben ten minutes to clean up and change, but it felt like a fucking hour. Though his body was satiated, the Thing was hungry. He had given it a taste of something he didn’t want to fucking think about, and now it wanted more. Ben didn’t fucking get it, couldn’t fucking understand why it was—he was—being so fucking pathetic about this. He wasn’t a fucking uptight choir boy, he’d jerked off probably more times than She’d even had sex. He’d had sex more times than any other fucker in history. He’d done things that would make Butcher blush, and those memories had fueled his drive more than enough since he’d been awake. He wouldn’t fucking lie and say She’d never made appearances in theses types of thoughts before—Ben was a red-blooded man with eyes, and he wasn’t going to feel fucking guilty about it—but they’d been brief, and they hadn’t left him reeling like a goddamn fucking pussy. Like he was now.

He had to fucking get it together.

When he arrived down in the kitchen, having done a very careful inspection of himself for any lingering evidence, Ben found Her stuffing her face with the bagel he’d left behind, looking up with wide eyes as he entered the room.

“Sorry-“ She roughly swallowed, and that didn’t fucking help Ben at all. “But you should know better than to leave food just out.”

“There’s a whole fucking fridge full of the stuff behind you, Sunshine,” he grunted, moving around the counter. “Could’ve fucking used it.”

She shrugged, licking her fingers clean, and there was no fucking way she wasn’t doing this to him on purpose. “You’ll get over it.” She gave him a toothy smile. “Ready to have your ass handed to you on a silver fucking platter?”

Ben smirked, leaning down to Her eye level. “I’m going to fucking make you cry, brat.”

There it was again. That fucking falter. And something flashed in Her eyes, barely fast enough for Ben to catch before she blinked and it was gone, Her gaze holding his with a steel glare.

“Fucking bring it, Pretty Boy.”

He laughed, rising to his full height as she stood from the counter. “Aren’t you mighty fucking cocky for someone who’s only hit me twice.”

“Thrice. I’ve hit you thrice.” Her words were muttered with a pretty frown as she walked toward the dining room—they had long repurposed it into a mock training area—and Ben grinned as he followed her.

“Twice, Sunshine. I don’t count the hit where you fucking cheated.”

She snorted. “Oh, shove it up your ass, Pretty Boy. Like you’ve never cheated before.”

“I’ve never gotten caught,” Ben said smugly. “Big fucking difference.”

She turned as they stopped in the center of the room, raising her fists to the defensive stance he’d taught her. “Somehow,” She smirked. “I really doubt that.”

Ben moved to match Her, shrugging as he did so. “Doesn’t matter what you believe, Sunshine. Truths the truth.”

“I’m going to burn your whole beard off this time, cunt.”

“Fucking try it, brat.” Her heart faltered again, and Ben decided—as long as She kept up that fucking reaction—he was going to keep calling her that until she physically made him stop. “I’ll put the TV on that fucking reality channel you hate and break the damn remote.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You hate E! more than I do. I just hate the ads, you hate everything about it.”

“All the tits are fucking fake,” Ben muttered and She snorted. “And so are the fucking-“

“Asses?” She finished his sentence with an eye roll. “Yeah, I’m sure fake tits and BBLs really hurt your refined, feminist sensibilities.”

“What the fuck is a BBL?”

“Brazilian Butt Lift.”

“You can’t just fucking say shit-“

“Jesus, it’s a plastic surgery, and it’s pretty self-descriptive. Actually, you’d probably like them.”

“Fuck no, I like it fucking natural, I have no interest in fucking something that’s not-“

“Totally real and able to enjoy it. I’ve heard the sales pitch, Pretty Boy.” She gave him a slack, taunting smile. “Are you going to keep stalling, or put your money where your mouth is?”

Ben winked at Her. “I’ll put my mouth and my money wherever I fucking want, Sunshine.”

She met his cocky smirk with one of her own. “Prove it.”

By the end of it, both of them agreeing after two grueling hours to shower, fucking eat something, and spend the remainder of the night at the TV—She had made some amazingly graphic threats about what she’d do if he broke the remote while she heated dinner—Ben was more torn by his goddamn fucking feelings then he’d ever been in his life. There was pride coursing through him, She’d hit him five more times and only two of the punches had been cheating, there was the Thing in his chest, pounding in excitement like a fucking pussy at the simple goddamn idea of sitting next to her while they ate, and there was the hunger, low in his gut and straining against his pants, looping the image of Her all sweaty and flushed from exertion around and around his head.

He was very fucking thankful that Her own eagerness to get into the shower made her leave the room fast enough not to notice anything, and decided to take a very long, very cold shower himself to get a goddamn fucking grip before this became a problem.

It worked well—Ben made it through their returned ritual of dinner and TV without even a fucking hiccup, even fucking managed to sling his arm over the back of the couch without thinking about it was coincidentally hanging over Her—until a little after midnight when She’d fucking asked him to stay in her room again.

“I- um,” Her voice had started quieter than usual, not fully looking at Ben as she spoke. “I’m feeling better, really. But, uh, if you’d be okay with it-”

“Sunshine,” he’d nudged Her with his shoulder, and when she’d turned her pretty face, cast in only the glow of the TV light, towards him, the Thing rumbled. “Stop pussyfooting and-”

“Say what I mean?” She’d finished his sentence with a small smile. That was something she really needed to stop fucking doing. “Stay in my room tonight. Just until I fall asleep. If you want.” She’d watched him carefully as she tacked on the end.

Ben had given Her a smirk, and decided to feed the Thing just a little. “Beg.”

“Fuck you,” She’d snorted, but there was no anger in her words, so Ben pushed a little further.

“I’m serious, Sunshine. You really want me there? Beg. ”

“I’ll cut off your dick, cunt.” She’d glowered.

He’d shrugged. “Have it your way, brat.”

“ Fucking asshole,” She’d muttered under her breath, heart stumbling for only a second before she’d fully turning her body towards Ben. She’d fluttered her eyelashes sarcastically, giving him a simpering smile, her voice sickly sweet. “Please, Ben. Please, grace me with your holy presence so that I may have six hours of sleep that are not plagued by nightmares. Please, sir, do me the kindness of not making me wake up screaming from memories of being fucking tortured.”

Ben grunted, forcing a smile onto his face as the Thing howled. “Of course, Sunshine. All you had to do was ask.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling herself off the couch. “I need to shit, I’ll see you in my room in five.”

Ben let himself dwell for a second after She left, trying to push the sound of her voice, however mocking, say please, Ben and sir and the image of her fake pouting at him as light flickered across her face. Through an inhuman—even for Ben—amount of self-restraint, he managed to pull his shit all the way together and push it deep, deep down for the Thing to follow before making his way up the stairs.

When he entered Her room, she was already sitting on the bed, covers pulled over her body, on the same side as the previous night. Ben started to walk carefully over to the empty half of the mattress, but she sat up a little, pointing behind him.

“Lights.” She explained, a slightly apologetic look on her face. “Please.”

“Only because you fucking said please,” Ben grumbled, and flicked the little switch on the wall before making his way to Her side. He’d barely kicked his legs up onto the mattress when She closed her eyes, and her heartbeat began to slow into a peaceful steady rate.

He wasn’t sure how, but Ben slept as well, and when the nightmare—one of his more frequent ones about a man in a lab coat tears out his heart, holding it up for the world to see, and echoes of laughter carving into Ben’s head—caught him, he woke in a cold sweat and felt Her curled fully into his side, his arm holding her there. His breathing steadied quickly, and it dawned on him that there hadn’t been any drums. There still weren’t. He looked down at Her, tucked against his torso, and didn’t move until sunrise.

Another week passed, and Ben was getting a lot fucking worse at controlling the Thing in his chest. She still had no idea—Ben was an amazing fucking actor like that—and he had no fucking intention of clueing her in. Because there wasn’t anything for Her to know. He wasn’t keeping it a secret, because the Thing wasn’t anything, not really, so he’d just be telling her he thought she was pretty. Which was a fucking stupid thing to do, because Ben wasn’t a pussy teenager who’d just discovered what women were. She was pretty, but he’d met hundreds, thousands, of pretty women.

Not pretty, the Thing would grumble. Beautiful.

Ben had met fucking beautiful women too. This wasn’t something important.

Was Ben jerking off more times than he had since maybe even before Russia? Sure. But it was just a fucking coincidence. His sex drive was back, fucking alert the media and call the cops. Was he not using porn, just the Thing and its conjured images? Yes, but nobody would fucking give him internet access and he’d suck Butcher to completion before he asked Her to give him porn. Because he’d never fucking hear the end of it, not because She’d probably know how to see what he’d watch, and have questions about why all the models looked like her. The images were getting Ben’s engine going just fine, and delivering him to where he needed to be goddamn well. Images that were of soft bodies that looked like hers and sharp eyes that were always amused. Images that went hand in hand with imagined sounds of a familiar voice moaning and whimpering his name, his real name, as he muttered filth to his empty room. Nobody had even called him Ben during sex in almost 75 years. Everyone, from Crimson Countess to long-faceless supes at Herogasm, had called him Soldier Boy. But She always called him Ben and his mind had, against his fucking will, decided that She would probably call him Ben if he got to have her how he wanted.

And fuck, had his fucking brain taken that and ran with it. Ben had run through so many fucking fantasies he had favorites. There was the one where he knelt before her on his bed and She gripped his hair as she begged, the one where he pinned Her hands above her head during training with one hand and used the other to make her moan, the one where She walked into his room and dropped to her knees for him with that taunting smile, and the one where they were on the couch and he pulled Her onto his lap and fucked her until she burst into flames.

None of this was helped by their new habit of him sleeping in Her bed, or the fact that he was actually sleeping when he did so. It wasn’t helped by her being more insistent on training than ever before, making their usual physical contact increase by fucking tenfold. It wasn’t helped by how Ben couldn’t stop talking to Her because she was still insufferably fucking open and stupidly fucking funny and he wanted an excuse make Her call him a cunt so he could call her a brat, and he got to listen to the little sound her heart made every fucking time.

The worst part, though, was that he’d been fucking wrong. Really fucking wrong. She wasn’t pretty or beautiful, she was fucking perfect, and it was going to make him go insane. Lately, when he looked at her, it was like staring at the goddamn sun. It made the Thing reel just to fucking see Her now, and he was too much of a fucking pussy to fight it because She was perfect.

You’ve never met a perfect woman before , the Thing whispered smugly. You’ve never met a perfect anything.

Fine. That was fucking true. But it didn’t change that the Thing didn’t fucking mean jack fucking shit. So he didn’t have to tell her.

In the mess of the Thing and Her and trying to kill the Thing before it made him a fucking pussy who could only think about Her, Ben still hadn’t given Butcher an answer about Homelander’s offer. He didn’t even really fucking have one yet. There had been no improvement in the cycle of Homelander can fuck right off to Homelander had hurt Her and Ben wanted to hurt him to She would tell Ben to go all the way back to Homelander can fuck right off. If anything it had worsened, leaving Ben right in the same shit position he’d started.

He was wading around in that very loop now, having woken up two hours before Her and made his way downstairs. Though, once again against his will, Ben had spent the first hour watching Her sleep, dragged into a trance by her heartbeat and her relaxed, beautiful face.

Perfect. The Thing had reminded Ben. Her perfect face.

He’d told it to shut the fuck up, and stomped—quietly, Ben had no interest in waking Her up—out of Her room and down the hall to his own. He’d made himself cum quickly, a fantasy of Her bent over and whining into a pillow fueling him, before moving downstairs to watch TV and wait for Her to wake up like a fucking lost puppy dog.

But Ben did wait—reminding himself that it didn’t mean anything because what else could he even fucking do—as one of the better sitcoms She’d shown him playing in a forgotten buzz as Ben’s thoughts began the useless fucking loop. Ben was so fucking focused on the Homelander had hurt Her and Ben wanted to hurt Him part that he missed the sounds of Her waking up, only barely noticing when her heartbeat grew closer as she walked down the stairs.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Ben called over his shoulder just as She reached the bottom, padding over to drop on the couch next to him.

“Hi.” She mumbled, squinting at the TV. “Oh, this is a good one.”

He glanced back at the screen, where two of the characters were screaming into a walkie talkie in a closet. Ben only grunted, watching Her lean back from the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked so casually, Ben wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“You’re being weird. You didn’t make coffee, and when I came down the stairs you looked deep in thought. It’s concerning.”

Ben rolled his eyes and swatted at Her arm. “Fuck off, brat.” Her heart did the thing, and he had to fight a smile. “I was just watching the fucking show.”

She hummed, giving him an unconvinced look. “Fine, you cunt. Don’t tell me.”

“If this is about you wanting coffee, Sunshine, you’ve got a pair of working arms and a matching set of fucking legs. Do it your goddamn self.”

“It’s not about coffee,” She mumbled, though Ben didn’t miss her slight pout. “I just wanted to…” She trailed off, and Ben looked at her fully.

What a fucking lapse in his quickly vanishing judgment that was.

The morning light through the room made all of Her perfect features fucking glow, and her stupid lips that had been haunting Ben’s every damn thought were puffy from sleep. He wanted to touch them.

“Ben?” Her voice jarred him out of his stupid fucking brain. “Why are you holding Butcher’s sunglasses?”

Ben glanced down and realized that he’d been turning the cheap, knock-off, Soldier Boy sunglass that were the wrong fucking color around in his hand. He’d forgotten to give them to Her completely when she’d first woken up and been all sad, as fucking sunglasses had been lower on his priority list than the fucking Homelander offer. Then, when She had finally started fucking talking to him again, he had found himself rarely in his room—Ben had been keeping the sunglasses on his dresser—except to quickly pull his dick in any spare time he could find. When he’d cleaned up his mess from that very activity this morning, Ben had noticed them collecting dust and shoved them into his pocket to finally fucking move them from his room. One less thing to do a shitty job of cleaning.

“Butcher told me these were yours.” Ben frowned at her. “Asshole said you dropped them on your way to Firecracker’s stage.”

She gave the sunglasses a dirty look. “Of course he did. Fucking asshole.”

“What, are they fucking modern sunglasses that are going to start telling me all your deepest secrets?” Ben looked between the accessory to where She sat, still glowering at it. “Is it a damn bomb?”

“No, Butcher’s just a dick.”” She muttered, though the bitterness was gone from her tone and her lips twitched as her eyes returned to his. “He was going to use them as a part of his dogshit disguise and I told him not to. Because it would blow our cover. Your cover. Then I blew the whole fucking plan, and he’s fucking rubbing it my face.”

“You didn’t blow it, your stupid plan fucking worked, Sunshine. It’s not a great insult.”

“It didn’t work. Not well enough.” The sadness was creeping back into Her eyes, and the Thing was clawing at him.

“Butcher’s an ass,” Ben tossed the sunglasses into Her lap, and she scrambled to catch them. “That tea-rimming dick couldn’t have done any fucking better than you did.”

“Thanks, Ben.” She gave him a small smile, her voice so painfully fucking genuine it made Ben want to throw himself off a cliff. The Thing was whining, fucking whining like a little fucking bitch, as She held the sunglasses up to the light. “Thoughts on the change of your color scheme.”

Ben snorted. “Fucking blue. The weak pussy man’s fucking green.”

She laughed, a real laugh that made the Thing slam against Ben’s lungs. “That’s a much stronger and more negative opinion about blue than I expected from America’s Number One Patriot.”

“If I had any fucking say in it,” Ben grumbled. “Our flag would be red, white, and green.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Like Italy?”

“Fuck no, not like fucking Italy-“ He shot Her a glare as she started to giggle. “Shut the fuck up, Sunshine. Blue is fucking stupid, green is a lot fucking better, and you fucking know it.”

“Hm,” She smothered her laughter and gave him a smirk. “You do look very good in it.”

The Thing loved that. Fuck, Ben loved that too. He did look fucking good in green, he looked good all the damn time. That didn’t stop the Thing—and him, if someone wanted to be a real fucking asshole about specifics—from wanting to, needing to, know what other colors She thought he looked good in. But she had moved on, rubbing the lenses with her shirt before placing the sunglasses on her nose and giving Ben a wide, unrestrained smile.

“How do I look? Like a douchebag?” She asked, pushing them down her nose to look at him over the rim.

Ben snorted. “I don’t think you could look like a douchebag if you fucking tried, Sunshine.”

She giggled, and relaxed fully into the cushions, turning to lean against the armrests and kicking her feet up so they pressed against Ben’s leg. “Jury’s out on that, Pretty Boy.”

Ben watched her settle, watching the TV through the sunglasses and mouthing along to the lines of the show with a comfortable smile, and his brain flashed back to the place he’d left the cycle. Homelander had hurt Her, and Ben wanted to hurt him.

He had his fucking answer for Butcher.

That night, sitting at Her side and moving more carefully he had ever bothered to in his fucking life, Ben reached across Her body and took the small, weird phone from her bed stand.

The next half hour involved a lot of cursing under his breath, rage building bigger and bigger into Ben until he almost threw the fucking “phone” across the room. In almost any other circumstance he would’ve shoved the damned thing before Her, and she would’ve showed him all the stupid fucking ways in which it worked. But he couldn’t for this, because She’d have fucking questions about what he wanted her phone for, and he’d try and refuse to answer them, and then She’d figure out a fucking way to trick him into telling her. The whole point of his careful movements and silent anger was that he could fire the gun himself before She could insist on doing it with him.

Eventually Ben figured out what open with Face ID meant, leading to him spending another two minutes trying to hold the phone in front of Her face in a way that the stupid fucking thing deemed acceptable. By the grace of a god Ben didn’t believe in, he was saved from another grueling endeavor of trying to figure out how to call someone on a flat piece of fucking glass by the phone buzzing in his hand—something that made him almost crack it in half out of pure vigilance—and the screen showing a weird fucking banner that top that read:

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Need a week.

Ben tapped on the banner, and felt immense satisfaction as it brought him to a screen of little bubbles, a keyboard sitting readily at the bottom. One letter at a time, Ben typed out call me, before pausing and adding Her name at the end.

The phone began to buzz angrily as the words Call From, William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever paired with a photo of an old Wanted photo of Butcher consumed the screen. Ben was incredibly grateful She was asleep, as he dropped the fucking thing onto the his lap in shock—though he’d recovered quickly and any sane motherfucker would’ve done the same if a block of metal started fucking buzzing—and She would certainly not have let him hear the end of it had she seen. He stood carefully but quickly from the bed, looking back as She shuffled slightly. When he saw her settled once more, heartbeat just as steady as when She always slept, he pushed out into the hall and hit the little green button that better fucking do what he thought it would.

“Oi,” Butcher’s voice sounded quietly from the phone, saying Her name with a tone of annoyance. “Soldier Boy rub off on you so hard you forgot how bloody phones work?” The man made a sound like he was laughing to himself. “Actually, don’t fucking answer that. I don’t want to know what freaky shit you two get up to.”

“Guess again,” Ben spoke against the screen, trying at the same time to figure out how to make Butcher louder. He noticed a button labeled speaker, slammed his thumb against it, and almost dropped the phone as Butcher’s voice blasted against his ears.

“Well, if it ain’t the ancient cunt himself. Does the missus know you took her phone?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Ben froze, swearing under his breath, as Her voice sounded from behind him. Ignoring Butcher’s mocking laughter echoing in the hall, he turned slowly to find Her right at his chest, eyes bleary but still managing to glare with all her usual, sharp venom. “Hello, Sunshine. Good fucking morning to you too.”

“You as well.” She snapped, and Ben scoffed, silently enjoying the way Her nose scrunched as she corrected him and hating the way he didn’t want to throw Her against a wall. “And it’s fucking 3am.” She yanked her phone from Ben’s grip, scowling at him as she spoke. “Butcher, I’m going to put you on hold for a second, Ben and I need to talk.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Butcher’s voice sneered, and She rolled her eyes before pressing something on the screen. “I’ll just bloody wait here then, not like I have anything important to do.”

“I can still hear him.” Ben pointed out as Butcher began to hum through the speakers.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Pretty Boy. He won’t hear it when I beat your fucking ass.”

“I stay with you all night, again, and this is how you show me fucking gratitude?”

“You fucking stole my phone to call Butcher.” She said flatly. “You don’t even know how to use it.”

“I figured it out, Sunshine. I’m not a fucking idiot pussy.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular fucking Einstein, using a smartphone in 21st century.” She jeered. “Now tell me why you needed to call Butcher so bad you decided to steal my phone about it, before I melt your fucking face. ”

“Take your best fucking shot, Sunshine, this is between me and the brit.”

She sighed. “Have it your way. Butcher?” She tapped the phone, holding Ben’s glare. “Any ideas about what Ben was calling you for?”

“Why do you ask, Love? Soldier Boy not willing to share his intentions with me to his Sunshine? ” Butcher mocked, and Her scowled turned down to the phone.

“Butcher.” Her voice was cool, and Ben could see the gnawing of her lip just as well as he could hear it. “You and Ben get one minute to grow bigger balls and tell me right now, or I will cut off the tiny ones you have.”

“Sorry, but Ben -“ Butcher’s voice said his name in a way that made Ben want to cut out the man’s tongue. “Didn’t get round to telling me his bloody self, so I ain’t got a clue.”

“Give me a guess.” She said coldly.

“Can’t, Love. I don’t have the faintest idea.”

A sound of frustration escaped Her throat, and Ben watched her grip on the phone tighten. “Butcher, I don’t know where this sudden loyalty to Ben came from, but you better lose it and find an idea real fucking fast before I leave Ben here so I can come and kill you.”

Any sleep was gone from Her eyes, smoke had begun to curl off of her body, and Ben was starting to worry she was going to break the skin in her mouth. Maybe She’d let us look at it if she does, the Thing whispered. And we could touch her lips.

Ben had to get himself under fucking control. If he wasn’t so focused on Her mouth like a whipped pussy, he would’ve been able to grab the phone back and break it before Butcher caved and told Her.

“Well, it might have something to do with our little chat while you were taking bloody five. That it, Gov? You finally got a fucking answer for me?”

She looked up at Ben, eyes flaring. “What little chat? ”

“None of your business, Sunshine,” Ben snapped, and Butcher made a huffed laugh through the phone.

“Don’t think she sees it that way, Mate.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Butcher.” Ben growled, and Her glare somehow grew so sharp Ben could feel it.

“What little chat, Butcher. What answer does Ben need to give you.” She hissed.

“Homelander and Sage gave us a little offer to have a nice and peaceful chat.” Butcher drawled, and Her eyes shot down to the phone, mouth falling open. “I’ve been waitin two bloody weeks for Soldier Boy to let me know if he’ll grace us with his presence.”

Her eyes returned to Ben, jaw clenched, and the carpet at her feet started to blacken. “I’m going to have to call you back, Butcher.”

“If you two have angry sex, tell me, because Hughie will owe me a tenner and-“ Butcher’s voice was cut off as She hung up, not once looking away from Ben.

“Homelander and Sage offered us a meeting? And you didn’t think that was important enough to share with the class?” Her voice was level, words measured, and heart steady. Ben hadn’t seen Her like this since those first weeks, and he hadn’t missed it one fucking bit.

“They offered me a meeting, Sunshine.” Ben snapped. “You’re not invited.”

“I go where you go, Pretty Boy.” Her words pushed through gritted teeth. “So unless they’re coming here, I’m going with you.”

“You seem real confident I wasn’t about to tell Butcher to shove the offer up where the sun don’t fucking shine.” Ben glared down at her, and She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You would’ve woken me up so you could have an audience. You didn’t want me to know.”

“Not everything is about you, Sunshine.” Ben growled, most of his anger now angled at how fucking correct she was.

“Really? Because you stealing my phone and very purposefully not telling me about the meeting feels like it might be about me just a little!”

“Well, if you would give me a fucking phone of my own-“

“That not the fucking point, Ben! Why didn’t you fucking tell me about this!” She yelled, the room becoming thick with smoke.

“I don’t have to fucking tell you everything! You’re not my goddamn partner!”

Her heart stuttered, face dropping into a scowl, and Ben felt something start to eat at him in his chest.

“Fine.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, and it made the Thing turn his blood to lead and squeeze his chest tightly. “Whatever.” She threw the phone at him, and Ben had hardly caught it when She turned and walked back into the room, door slamming behind her.

Ben almost moved to follow Her, lurching forward to push after her and insist she fucking listen to him, that he hadn’t fucking told her for a damn good fucking reason, but the phone started to buzz again, this time displaying Call From, Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions along with a photo of MM flipping off the camera. Ben glanced to the door, hearing Her heart moving faster by the second as her breath became short and shaky, and hit the red button.

He’d barely made it a step when the phone started buzzing again, MM calling once more. Growling in frustration, Ben pressed the red button again, only from it to buzz with a series of those fucking banners.

Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions

Fucking pick up.

Butcher said you and Soldier Boy were fighting.

If you don’t fucking pick up right now I’m driving over and yelling at you.

Or I’m sending Annie.

Ben glowered in disbelief at the phone, stone-like, hot rage filling through him. How fucking dare they even fucking think that Ben might fucking hurt her like fucking Homelander when that’s exactly what he was trying to fucking avoid-

This time, when the phone rang, Ben slammed the green button.

MM’s voice, sharp with relief, said Her name through the speaker. “Fucking hell, pick up the first time, you were going to give me a goddamn heart attack-“

“What the fuck is your problem.” Ben snapped, and the line fell so silent Ben thought it had dropped.“

After what must have been a fucking eternity, MM spoke, his voice firm and cold. “Soldier Boy, put Her on the phone right fucking now.”

“She’s not talking to me,” Ben said, ignoring the way the Thing became pained at his words.

“I swear to fucking God, if you don’t put her on right fucking now I’ll knock out myself and ship you back to Russia. If you fucking laid one disgusting hand on her-“

“I didn’t fucking touch her.“ Ben growled, the drums falling into rhythm with his fury. “I am not fucking Homelander.”

“You think I’m just going to fucking trust you about that? Butcher said you had a fight, and now you’re picking up her phone. If it walks like a Soldier Boy, talks like a Soldier Boy, then you fucking hurt her.”

“ I didn’t fucking hurt her! ” Ben roared at the phone, and Butcher’s voice came, muffled, through the speaker.

“Is that him? Give me the fucking phone, I need to talk to the cunt.”

“No,” MM’s voice was distant now, shouting at Butcher. “I need to make sure this motherfucker didn’t-“

“She can’t die Mate, she’s bloody fine. Give me the fucking phone.” There were sounds of shuffling, and when Butcher spoke again his voice was loud and crisp. “Stuck in the rotten bloody dog house, eh Gov?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben snapped. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“I mean, if you start to hurt her might as well fucking be-“

“Fucking watch it, Butcher.” Ben hissed. “The only person in danger right now is your fucking pussy ass.”

“Well, aren’t we touchy.” Butcher sneered.

“You want your fucking answer or not?” Ben glanced back at the door, where She had become suspiciously quiet. The only sign of life Ben had to grasp was her uneven heartbeat, and even that was soft.

Butcher sighed dramatically through the phone. “If you want to suck all the bleedin fun out of it, fine. What’s it gonna be, Soldier Boy? Am I telling Homelander and Sage to find a wood chipper to stick their asses and heads in?”

“I’m in.” Ben said shortly, firmly. “Come and get me when it’s ready.”

“That’ll be in,” there was a slight pause before Butcher continued. “Eight hours.”

“Eight hours?” Ben repeated with a frown. “You pussies think you can get everything ready in eight fucking hours?”

“We’ve been ready for a week, Gov.” Butcher’s voice sounded fucking smug, and Ben wished he could punch the man through the phone. “Let’s just say I had a good feeling about your answer.”

“Fine. Eight hours. But if you’re not here on time, I’m not fucking going.” Ben didn’t wait for Butcher’s snarking, bitch-mouthed questions or mockery before he hung up, finally marching over to Her door and pushing it open.

She wasn’t on the bed. Or the floor. Or on the tacky armchair. Or at the shitty desk. She wasn’t in the room at all, and Ben’s heart fucking stopped, the drums building and building. He was fucking seconds away from tearing the whole damn room apart when he noticed the bathroom door hanging open, the lights off but the fans humming filling the room in time with taps of Moon River, both covering her already faint heartbeat.

“Sunshine?” He grunted, and heard Her heart stutter. “I have your phone.”

She didn’t answer, and Ben took a few steps closer to the door, abandoning the phone on Her bed.

“I know you’re in there,” he said Her name carefully. “I can fucking hear you.”

Still nothing. The Thing was grabbing Ben so tight he had to think to breathe.

“Are you still fucking pissed at me about the meeting?” He snapped, trying to fight the Thing and get Her just fucking acknowledge him. “Because if that’s what the fucking silent treatment is about, I don’t-“

Something cluttered in the bathroom, and She appeared at the door. Her eyes were red, face drawn in an angry scowl, and even from his place a few feet away, Ben could feel the heat off of her. But what made the Thing start to claw, feral and fucking desperate, at Ben’s ribs, was that She didn’t look angry or violent. She didn’t even look sad and broken. She just looked empty.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” She said flatly, watching Ben with hollow eyes. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re being fucking dramatic-“

“Am I?” She shrugged. “What a fucking inconvenience.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ben’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t fucking stop it, especially as She didn’t even flinch. “It’s not like I fucking laid hands on you!”

She let out a low, humorless laugh. “Yeah, sure. Good work, Ben. Real white horse moment, you didn’t beat me up.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant and you damn know it.”

“Maybe.” She sighed again. “Are you done?”

“Not until you fucking tell me what you’re fucking problem is-“

“Why should I?” She said flatly, looking away from him. “We don’t have to tell each other everything.”

Ben stared at Her as she still didn’t meet his eyes, her words—his words—echoing through his head, the Thing twisting in his throat. “Is that what you’re being so fucking bitchy about? That I didn’t fucking tell you about one goddamn thing?”

Something flashed in Her eyes, and even though it was a bone-chilling rage, Ben felt something unwind deep in his gut that she wasn’t just fucking vacant.

“You didn’t just not tell me about one thing, you fucking lied to me.” Something in Her voice snapped. “You said you hadn’t heard from Butcher! You said we were fucking benched, when it was just fucking me! When Butcher had told you about Homelander’s stupid fucking offer and not me!” Her voice was climbing to a raw, broken scream. “You said you wouldn’t fucking lie.” Her words were choked. “ You fucking lied, Ben. ”

In his life, Ben had been an asshole a damn lot, and though he’d never managed to be bothered by it—he wasn’t a fucking emotional pussy and it wasn’t his goddamn fault that everyone else was—it hadn’t stopped people from screaming at him, calling him every foul name in the English language, and wishing pain upon him both to his face and behind closed doors. This was, for some fucking reason Ben didn’t want to even spare a thought to, worse then all of that in every fucking way imaginable. Her silent sobs that she seemed to be trying to push down her throat, Her refusal to fully look at him for more than a second, Her voice as she screamed at him so fucking shattered and anguished.

He shouldn’t fucking care. It wasn’t a big fucking deal, it had been one little lie. Fuck, it hadn't even been a damn lie, just an omission. She was being fucking dramatic.

You hurt Her. The Thing hissed at him. You promised you wouldn’t hurt Her, and you did.

No, he fucking didn’t. He hadn’t laid a single finger on her.

People don’t act like that if they’re not hurt.

He hadn’t fucking hurt Her. If anything, She was fucking hurting him with her broken eyes and sobs.

The Thing was trying to burst out of him. She’s broken because you hurt her. Because she trusted you, and you lied.

It was her own damn fault, then. Ben wouldn’t even fucking trust himself, and he certainly hadn’t forced Her to.

But she did. The Thing growled. For some fucking reason, She trusted you. And you fucking hurt her. Like fucking Homelander.

That was it. Ben wasn’t like fucking Homelander. He hadn’t fucking hurt her. But she was still fucking crying, backing away from him into the shadows as he just stood there like a fucking dickless asshole.

So, against all of his better judgment, Ben let the Thing win. Once. Never fucking again, but right now he just needed Her to stop fucking hurting, and if the Thing could make him fix this, then Ben would let it win just fucking once.

He took a step towards Her, and something wrapped around his lungs released as She let Ben wrap her shaking body into his arms, let him pull her head against his chest and keep her there. They stood there, Ben holding Her until her breathing steadied and body cooled. When—after what was either a second or a year—she whispered, her voice carried into and through Ben’s body.

“I’m sorry-“ She started, but he pulled back to look down at her, and she cut herself off as she met his gaze.

“Don’t be. You were…” the words struggled out of him, the Thing pushing them up. “Not wrong.”

She gave a shaky laugh, and that carried through Ben too. “I was still being a bitch. You’re right, we don’t have to tell each other everything-“

“No.” He cut Her off fully this time, and she blinked up at him, eyes wide and pretty. Ben swallowed, forcing himself to stop starting like a pathetic asshole and just fucking talk. “I told you I had nothing to hide. I fucking meant it.”

She tilted her head at him, watching him with a look he didn’t understand. “Then why did you lie?”

Her voice was soft, and the Thing was making an awfully fucking convincing argument to never let her go.

“I didn’t lie.” Ben grunted, and was met with a flat look and a pinch on his arm.

“Ben.”

He rolled his eyes, grip around Her tightening. “I didn’t fucking lie, Sunshine. I just-“

“Omitted the truth?” She gave him a small smile, and the Thing jumped. “That’s a form of lying, Pretty Boy.”

“Well, I knew you’d have a fucking opinion about this like you do for every damn thing, and maybe I just didn’t want fucking to hear it.”

“Hm,” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you think I’d say?”

“To go.” He stared ahead as he spoke, silently hoping She’d, for once in her fucking life, be satisfied with his answer.

He should’ve known a lot damn better by now.

“That it?”

Ben’s gaze dropped back down to Her, loathing how the light of the dawn was pushing through the curtains, casting her face in soft light that fit her stupid fucking perfect face so well. Ben loathed even more that she wasn’t scowling at him, wasn’t even glaring, just watching with an amused, gentle look of I don’t believe you, Ben. You’re a fucking shit liar, and it’s funny you think you’re not.

Ben wanted to tell Her that, no, he was actually an amazing fucking liar. He’d managed to jerk himself off multiple times a day for the past week and she had no fucking clue.

Instead, he rolled his eyes at Her, trying to imitate that boring, amused tone of Hers that always made him fucking insane. “You would’ve fucking tried to go as well. And that’s only happening over my dead fucking body.”

She gave a small, fake annoyed huff. “That’s not fair. You can’t die.”

“I’m serious.” Ben frowned. “Homelander’s going to be there. You’re not fucking going, Sunshine.”

She blinked at him with that same look from before, confusing the fucking hell out him. “But-“

“No.” Ben forced himself to pull away from Her, snarling in his head at the Thing’s whining as he did so. “End of fucking discussion. This isn’t like Firecracker, where Homelander might be there. He will be. You’re not fucking going.”

She frowned, arms folding across her chest in a way that pushed her tits forward-

Ben swore at himself. This was getting fucking ridiculous.

“You’re not my boss, Ben. If I want to go, I’m going.”

“Sunshine, I don’t know if you recently went deaf-“ Ben ignored her scoff. “Or are just suddenly very fucking stupid, but you keep somehow missing the part where Homelander is going to be there.”

“I can fucking hear you, cunt, I just-“

“Are being a fucking brat on purpose? I don’t even think you fucking want to go, I think you just don’t like me being fucking right.”

Her lips pursed and the gnawing began, but She remained silent as she glared up at him. Ben felt both a rush of triumph and a breath of weird fucking relief from the Thing.

“How about this, Sunshine. They’ll be here in a little more than seven hours. You convince them to let you go, I won’t fight it. But-“ Ben lowered his tone, making it clear as fucking day that he was being goddamn serious. “If they say no, you stay here without any fucking dramatics.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded, and extended her hand. “Deal.”

Ben snorted. “You want to fucking shake on it?”

“Want to prove you’re the noble fucking asshole gentleman you’re always bragging about being?” She nodded down to her hand. “Fucking shake on it, Pretty Boy.”

Ben winked at Her. “I’m no fucking gentleman, Sunshine. Thought your pretty little head would’ve figured that out by now.”

She only glared. “If you don’t shake my hand right fucking now, I’m fulfilling my promise about melting off your face and then going to the meeting by myself.”

“Brat,” Ben muttered, and the Thing fucking purred in goddamn satisfaction as he heard her heart did that little roll. It still didn’t fucking mean anything worth mentioning, Ben decided. It just meant She wasn’t that mad at him anymore, and that was why the relief was fucking consuming him. Because She was back to her normal self, getting on every last fucking nerve of his without any damn tears.

“Cunt.” She flexed her hand, and, frowning, Ben gave Her a firm shake. A smile split across Her face, and though her eyes were still red and tired, there was no hint of that emptiness remaining. “Lovely. I look forward to attending the meeting.”

Ben found it adorable that She believed he would’ve even fucking offered the deal if he thought a single goddamn member of her team would let her go. They had trained like normal, Ben changing into his suit afterward—because there was no fucking way Butcher was making him go in goddamn sweats—and they had spent the remaining hours leading up to the meeting on the couch, watching TV in what would have been uneasy silence, had it not been for Her leaning into his side with an ease of someone who had done it a million times. Ben somehow managed to stay still, both shutting the Thing up with inner, vulgar threats, and exerting an impressive amount of stealth in concealing his boner, which had returned with a vengeance Ben didn’t fucking appreciate. And—as he had predicted—when Butcher arrived with the French Prick and Kimiko, there was universal agreement that She wasn’t allowed to be in attendance.

“This is fucking bullshit!” She yelled at Butcher, giving his chest a firm shove. Ben was a little impressed the man didn’t topple over or cower in fear, but Butcher would never get to fucking know it.

“Sorry, Love, but Soldier Boy’s right. You’d just be a bloody problem that we ain’t got time to deal with.” Butcher turned to Ben, giving a sweeping gesture to the door. “After you, Gov.”

“How are you going to control Ben, huh?!” Her voice was desperate, and the Thing wanted to hold her again, despite Ben’s annoyance at Her apparent lack of fucking faith in him. “What if he goes rogue? And I’m not there to stop him?!”

“Fuck you too, Sunshine.” Ben muttered, and She shot him a glare.

“Shut up, this isn’t about you.”

He snorted, and She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You cunts can stand here and eye-fuck each other as long as you bloody please, but when Soldier Boy finally gets off and we go, you’re staying here, Love.”

“But what if-“

The French Prick said Her name smoothly. “Do not worry, madame. The CIA gave me enough of their gas to knock out all of Espagne, and I mixed with my own cocktail of fun, so if the connard goes nuclear-“ The French Prick gave Ben a smirk. “I will knock his arse to sleep before he can even say oops.”

Ben glowered at the French Prick, the drums sounding distantly. He could fucking control himself, this was goddamn unnecessary, and he fucking doubted their pussy fucking gas would even damn work on him. But She was starting to look like she might just run out door and chase the van they’d brought all the way to wherever Butcher had planned the meeting, so Ben clenched his fists and ignored the approaching rhythm.

“Let’s just get this fucking over it.” He grunted, pushing around Butcher to the door.

“That’s more bloody like it,” Butcher smirked. “Let get this fucking show on the damn road, Gov.”

Ben glanced back once before he stepped outside, half hoping to see Her watching him—even if it was with an angry glare of when you get back I’m going to cut your dick off—but found Her exchanging those weird fucking gestures with Kimiko, her face cast in a shadow so he couldn’t read it.

Kimiko eventually turned, walking past Ben and through the door, and his eyes met Hers.

Don’t fucking die, Pretty Boy. Her frown told him.

The Thing wanted to stay there. It didn’t want to bring Her, even it wasn’t that fucking stupid. But it was roaring around in him just the fucking anticipation of leaving Her.

“Don’t fucking miss me too much, Sunshine.” Ben said, adding a wink before he turned.

He didn’t miss her sharp exhale, or her mumbled words, before the door closed between them. “I’ll try.”

Because Butcher was out to fucking get him, the something that had been set up to hold Ben was just the van—improved by a deadbolt Ben was pretty fucking sure he could snap in half without a thought—along Kimiko glaring at him and the French Prick holding a can of gas. For the first half hour, Butcher humming something Ben didn’t recognize—but was still certain was off-key and tempo—was the only sound aside from the engine. Ben broke after deciding that, if Kimiko and the French Prick kept doing those fucking gestures at each other, he’d have to take his bets with the gas and kill them both.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben grunted, and they both turned to look at him.

“ Que? ” The French Prick looked him up and down wearily.

Ben mimed their gestures. “The fuck is that.”

“Monsieur Soldier Boy-“ The French Prick was cut off as Kimiko hit his arm, gesturing aggressively when his attention turned to her. “ Mon Coeur, there is no harm in him knowing.”

“Knowing what?” Ben scowled, and Kimiko glared at him, continuing her movements as the French Prick shook his head.

“She does not want me to tell you,” the French Prick frowned, beginning to gesture himself. “Although, Madame Anomaly-“

“Don’t call her that.” Ben snapped.

The French Prick blinked, and Kimiko, frowned, doing more gestures that involved a lot of fucking pointing at Ben.

“ Mon Coeur, please, it’ll make it easier.” Kimiko rolled her eyes, but sat back with a huff. The French Pricks attention returned to Ben. “This is how she speaks.”

“Yeah, I fucking figured that out myself.” Ben said with an eye roll. “Why is she a fucking mute?”

Kimiko flipped Ben off, and he glared at her as the French Prick sighed. “Her parents were killed, right before her eyes. She has said no words since.”

“Oh.” Ben frowned, narrowing his eyes as he looked between them. “Fine.”

Kimiko let out another huff, gesturing to the French Prick once more.

“ Non, she could not come instead. Homelander is too big of a threat to her.” The Thing started to push against him as Ben realized they were talking about Her. “Mon Couer, she would not have just stayed in the van -“

Ben cut the French Prick off, saying Her name harshly. “Does she know?” He mimed the gestures again, and decided to pretend for Kimiko’s sake he didn’t see her eye roll. “I’ve seen her fucking waving her hands at you, so don’t fucking lie to me.”

“ Oui,” the French Prick said, sounding more tired by the fucking second. “When she joined us, she insisted we teach her.”

“Of course she did.” Ben grumbled. She was too damn kind for her own fucking good. One day it was going to get Her fucking killed.

The Thing didn’t like that thought, rearing against his throat, and Ben could almost fucking hear her response.

Me being kind is a lot less likely to get me killed than being a dick to everyone all the fucking time is, Pretty Boy. You should follow my example.

Maybe he would, Ben smiled to himself. Not to be kind, that was fucking stupid, but because if he followed Her he would be able to save her dumbass when he was proven right. Plus, he liked watching Her walk. She always moved with such fucking purpose, her hips doing a little sway and her hair bouncing, it was really fucking hot.

The French Prick coughed, opening his mouth to say something and snapping Ben out of his thoughts.

“How much longer until we’re there?” Ben said before the French Prick had gotten a syllable out, having no interest in whatever had been about to be said, especially—if his suspicion was correct—about Her.

“Almost there, Gov.” Butcher called from the front.

“And there fucking is?”

“FBSA HQ.”

Ben was going to take Butcher’s asshole and bend him until it was next to his mouth, and Butcher had to swallow his own fucking shit forever. “Fucking words, you dickfaced pussy.”

Butcher snorted. “Federal Bureau of Supe Affairs. You ain’t thick enough to not get HQ by your bloody self.”

“You let them choose it?” Ben scowled at the back of Butcher’s head. “Or man the fuck up and this is your fucking pick?”

“Compromise, Mate.” Butcher grinned, toothy and mocking, in the rearview mirror. “We wanted somewhere public, they wanted somewhere private. Government property is the middle ground.”

“Fucking pussy.” Ben muttered under his breath, and as Butcher laughed coldly, the van came to a halt.

“Let’s get a bloody move on.” Butcher stood from his seat. “Lot of shit to do and not much fuckin time to get it done.”

At the request of the building’s security—some fucking pussy shit about not inciting a panic by having Soldier Boy walk into the lobby of a government building—Ben was herded through a back entrance, Butcher leading them through the flickering halls and up the elevator as the French Prick and Kimiko walked a pace behind, the French Prick gripping the gas like a pussy with a fucking lifeline.

When they entered the meeting room, a fucking insane amount of floors up and through a goddamn stupid amount of doors, Homelander was pacing back and forth before a floor-to-ceiling window as Sage and another woman—one Ben didn’t recognize in shiny fucking pantsuit with long black hair—sat on the far side of a conference table.

“Oi!” Butcher reached to his back, pulling out a gun and aiming it at the pantsuit lady. “She wasn’t on the fucking guess list.”

“Neither were they,” Sage said cooly, inclining her head towards Kimiko and the French Prick. “So we all broke a promise, and it’s even.”

“And put that away, William.” Homelander said, giving Butcher a large smile and a dismissive wave. “You look ridiculous. Vicky here will pop your brains before you even switch off the safety.”

“Don’t call me Vicky,” the woman’s voice was tense, giving Homelander weary side-eye. “But he is right, Butcher. You know that won’t hurt any of us.”

“Maybe.” Butcher sneered. “But I’m a man of science, I’d like to bloody see for myself.”

“Just sit down so we can get this over with,” Sage ordered, looking over her shoulder to where Homelander still stood, chest puffed and hands on hips. “Homelander, that means you as well.”

Homelander glared down at Sage before turning his gaze to Butcher, and then Ben.

He looked fucking pathetic, just as fucking weak as Ben remembered. Still wearing a fucking cape like a pussy, still strutting around like a goddamn toddler, looking fucking desperate for fucking approval. The only difference—something Ben wasn’t sure was new from their last meeting or something he saw because of Her—was the edge in Homelander’s eyes. The pussyfucker had looked psychotic, eyes too fucking blue and smile too fucking wide, but there was something crazed behind his movements. Something a lot more fucking careless. A lot more fucking dangerous.

“Soldier Boy.” Homelander said, voice level as that same insanity glinted in his eyes.

Ben kept his voice level as he responded, fighting every instinct to slam the weak pussies head into the glass of the window. “Homelander.”

“Can you both just sit down?” Sage said, exasperated as she looked between them. “The longer you measure your dicks at each other, the longer this goes.”

Homelander didn’t move, so Ben didn’t either.

“Fine,” Sage rolled her eyes. “Stand the whole time for all I fucking care.” She leaned forwards, clasping her hands on the table. “We asked you here to-“

“Who the fuck is she.“ Ben pointed at the pantsuit lady, who nobody had thought to fucking clue him in on the identity of.

“Victoria Neuman, Vice President of the United States.” The woman said, giving Ben a cool smile. “I believe you tried to kill me a month ago.”

Ben frowned. “Head-popper.”

Neuman sighed. “Yeah, sure. Head-popper.”

"How’d you even get away from your security cunts?” Butcher mused, eyeing Neuman. “Vought put them on payroll?”

She turned her frown to Butcher. “As you know, the secret service is a lot more inept than the public is led to believe. They think I ate bad seafood last night, and am pushing it out in a restroom three floors down.”

“Well, don’t I feel just peachy about having them protecting this great nation against threats.” Butcher jeered, and Neuman narrowed her eyes.

“You blew up my rally, Butcher. That was literally political terrorism.”

Butcher shrugged. “That particular firework show wasn’t mine, Popper.”

Homelander gave a toothy grin, walking forward to stand at the edge of the table. “It was her, wasn’t it?” He looked down at Sage. “I fucking told you, didn’t I? I said that it reminded me of her, and you said it wasn’t. Well I was fucking right.” The last words came out hissed through teeth, his smile never breaking.

Ben wanted to tear it off his face. The Thing was in favor of that plan.

“I said it wasn’t because, at the time, I thought she was dead. Like you’d told me she was.” Sage frowned.

Homelander shrugged, dropping into one of the seats and gripping the armrests. “How was I supposed to know she survived the fire? Those fucking scientists didn’t put down that she’d developed fire powers.”

“You said she combusted.”

“And caused the fire!” Homelander rolled his eyes. “It was a perfectly rational train of thought! She takes the fourth V shot, fire starts, she’s gone!” His face fell, body tensing as his eyes narrowed at Butcher across the table. “I didn’t think William had stooped to kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?” Butcher laughed in disbelief. “You think I kidnapped her?”

Homelander sighed dramatically, gesturing his gloved hands as he spoke. “You kidnapped Soldier Boy! Twice!”

“Nobody kidnaps me.” Ben growled, taking the seat next to Butcher. “I’m here because I fucking want to be.”

“Yeah,” Sage interjected. “And the can of gas is just… decoration?” Her attention turned to the French Prick. “Enflurane?”

“ Oui,” the French Prick looked fucking proud of himself as he answered. “Combined with Agent Orange and mustard gas.”

Neuman gave the French prick a stare of shocked disgust. “Frenchie, how did you get your hands on Agent Orange?!“

“I made my own, Madame Neuman. With a little extra kick.”

Ben glared at Butcher. “That shit better staying in the fucking can.”

“You stay in line, and we’ll all pretend it’s not even bloody there.”

“ Stay in line? ” Homelander scoffed. “You let them talk to you like that? When you could squash each one like a fly? ”

“Stay on topic.” Sage warned. “We have an actual reason for being here, and I would like to get to it.”

“I second that,” Neuman raised her hand. “I want to go home.”

“Nobody’s fucking making you be here, Popper.” Butcher sneered at her. “You can leave whenever you bloody feel like it.”

Neuman ignored him with an ease, and Ben liked her a little more.

“We asked you here,” Sage began. “To talk. About the Anomaly. And Soldier Boy.”

“Yeah, I bloody figured.” Butcher said casually, face painfully bored. “What about them?”

“Your plans. Specifically with her. I want to know them.” Sage watched Butcher carefully as she spoke, gaze flicking to Ben only once.

Butcher laughed, loudly. “Oh, that all? Could this not have been a damn email I’d fucking delete?”

“I’m serious, Butcher.” Sage didn’t waver, pressing forward. “I’m curious what your plans are with the Anomaly. She’s not exactly stable. I want to know exactly how you plan on keeping her under control, especially after Firecracker.”

The Thing roared, and Ben didn’t fucking mind it at all. Images of Her curled on her bed, of Her sobbing in arms, of Her looking fucking afraid and hopeless flashed in Ben’s eyes. Her screams, broken and painful, longing for fucking death, echoed in his ears. Ben’s own hands had become fists under the table, and the only thing keeping him from slamming them across Sage’s face was Her voice in his head. Fucking diplomacy, Ben. This is why you needed me here.

Homelander started to speak, and Ben remained fully fucking confident in not bringing Her. Damn ghost of her voice could whine all it wanted, but the real Her was miles away, and fucking safe.

“You know not to touch her, right?” Homelander asked, looking between Butcher, Ben, the French Prick, and Kimiko. “She’ll tell you to, say it’s to heal you, but she’s actually poking around in your fucking brains. Well,” his eyes stopped on Kimiko with a frown. “If you have a functional one.”

Kimiko glared at him, and the French Prick rested a hand atop her leg. “I would not make her mad,” the French Prick said carefully. “She has a remarkably functional brain, and has grown quite fond of the Anomaly.”

Homelander let out laugh, strained and forceful. “Of course she has,” he said Her name with a lilting, bright tone, and the Thing started clawing and bellowing inside Ben. “A lot more than just a pretty face, isn’t she? Crafty little thing, could charm a slug.” His attention returned to Butcher. “She sang for you yet? That’s how she works her little fucking spell. Sinks her claws into you until to giving her fucking everything. ” The last words were spat out, and Homelander wasn’t smiling anymore.

The Thing was howling, but Ben pushed it down, teeth were grinding so tightly he might break them.

“You think you gave her everything? ” Butcher sneered at Homelander, giving a taunting chuckle. “Mate, she goes cuckoo at just the mention of your name.”

“So, you know she can’t control herself?” Sage ignored Homelander’s glare—his mouth had opened to respond to Butcher—as she cut him off. “And yet you enable her anyways? Why?”

“Listen, Sister. If you brought us here just to ask questions about the Anomaly, you’ve only wasted your own bloody time. We ain’t ‘sharing our plans’ with you.” Butcher scoffed. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“I am smart,” Sage’s voice remained level. “I can’t be blamed for you not cooperating.”

“You just asked us for our fucking plans, Lady. If that had been our war strategy against the Nazi’s, we’d have fucking lost.” Ben interjected, and Sage raised her brows at him.

“Maybe.” Was all Sage said, and a chill ran through Ben.

“That it, then? Cause we’ll be on our fucking way.” Butcher started to stand, and Sage raised her hand to stop him.

“What about Soldier Boy, then,” Sage asked as if Ben wasn’t right fucking there. “He has debilitating PTSD, and has proven to be a liability. Even if you get a shot, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to fully control his blast.”

“Who says that’s what we’re planning?” Butcher snapped. “If it was, we’d just fucking do it now, wouldn’t we?”

“No.” Sage smiled. “Because you’re smarter than that, Butcher. Not by much, but you are.”

“Is she healthy?” Homelander said suddenly, leaning forward. “Is she eating? Or still starving herself just to fucking spite me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ben growled, the Thing was roaring inside him.

Homelander rolled his eyes. “When she’d get all mournful about her old, stupid, boring life that I saved her from, she’d starve herself. Wouldn’t fucking eat anything I brought her, even cake! Just to make me mad!” He sighed. “I used to have to force her to eat, cause she was fucking useless when she would throw those little tantrums. When we started V, she was doing it so much the third shot didn’t take! She made me waste it! ”

Ben wasn’t sure if it was the Thing or just his own rage coursing through him. It was like steel, burning steel through his blood that wanted to kill Homelander, moving into Ben’s head and blinding him to any possible issues with that idea. He didn’t fucking care. All Ben could feel was fucking fury, white and cold fury at Homelander’s words. All that was in his head were thoughts of Her carefree and bloodless, of the life she’d told him about, and of Her shrinking into nothing as it was pulled away from Her.

She hadn’t fucking told Ben about the food. She’d eaten less after Firecracker, but she’d still eaten. Homelander said he’d had to force food into Her.

Looking at Butcher, the French Prick, and Kimiko—all wearing similar expressions of horrified, shocked anger—Ben had a feeling She hadn’t told them about it either.

“I thought I’d wasted the fourth shot too,” Homelander continued, and Ben didn’t know if he hadn’t noticed the cold shift in the room, or just didn’t give a shit. “Oh, I was mad about that. Wasn’t I?” He turned to Neuman and Sage, but pressed on before they could speak. “I mean, neither of you were there, but I was. I was so mad. I thought I’d lost her, too. It was awful.”

“I’m sure it was really bloody hard for you,” Butcher grunted, and Homelander rolled his eyes.

“I know you’re being sarcastic William, but it was. You have no clue what it’s like to lose someone like that!”

Butcher’s jaw clenched. “I might have a fucking idea.”

“Oh, because of Becca? She was fun, believe me, I know.” Homelander laughed, and Ben had never seen Butcher’s knuckles so white before, heard his heart beat so fast. “But she was mortal. Human.” Homelander said the word with disgust, face twisting in a sneer.

“The Anomaly was human too,” Neuman said softy, and Homelander scowled at her.

“I fixed that. Now she’s almost as strong as me. Almost as strong as you!” Homelander gestured at Ben, and Ben started fantasizing about ripping his hand off. “I would be open to a custody agreement, you know. You get Ryan for a week, I get her at the same time, we switch back.”

“Not a fucking chance in hell,” Ben growled, and Homelander sighed.

“She’ll come back to me eventually. She needs me to help her, and when she realizes that I’m the only one who can, she’ll come back.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, cunt.” Butcher said coldly. “She might have a slightly different memory of your time together. Are we fuckin done here?” Butcher turned to Sage, who hummed.

“Sure.” Sage didn’t look at Butcher, and Ben realized she was watching him. Her eyes were scanning Ben, sending a crawling feeling along his skin. “Good luck controlling him,” Sage nodded towards Ben. “And the Anomaly.”

“We’ll manage.” Butcher stood, the French Prick and Kimiko following his lead.

“I look forward to seeing whatever terrible plans you’ve made.” Sage smiled, still watching Ben.

“I’m sure you fuckin are.” Butcher sneered, kicking the legs of Ben’s chair. “Up and at ‘em, Gov. Waste of our bloody time.”

Ben stood, moving from the table. Butcher was, for once in his damn life, right. This had been a complete waste of their fucking time, Sage had asked them here just to fuck with their heads, and all these fucking pussies hadn’t even given Ben an opportunity to get any blood on his suit-

“You know,” Homelander said, just before Butcher could open the door. “I never really understood Helen of Troy. I mean, launching a thousand ships with a face?” He laughed. “Fucking ridiculous. Then, I met her, and I got it.”

The Thing was scraping against Ben’s ribs, and his vision was lined with red as Homelander continued.

“She may have betrayed me, like Helen betrayed Menelaus, letting Paris take her, but I forgive her. I want her to come home.” He gave Butcher a wide, toothy, chilling smile. “Tell her I’m going to make sure she comes home soon.”

Ben was going to kill him. Now. The French Prick’s gas wouldn’t fucking stop him, because nothing fucking could. He was going to rip Homelander’s spine from his back and bash his head against the table until his brains leaked from his ears. He didn’t have his shield, or a gun, and there were no drums, but Ben didn’t fucking need any of it. He was going to kill Homelander with his bare fucking hands.

The only thing that saved Homelander were the next words he spoke. “And, like Menelaus, I’ll do anything to bring her back to me.”

Ben had left Her at the safe house. Alone. The Thing had told him not to and he’d ignored it and now she was alone all by her fucking self and there was no one there to keep her safe-

I’m a grown ass woman, Ben, Her voice echoed in his head. I will handle my goddamn self.

Doesn’t fucking matter, the Thing snapped. She’s alone. They called you here so she’d fucking be alone.

Ben turned, almost pulling the door off its hinges as he opened it. “Let’s fucking go.” He grunted to Butcher, and if the man was surprised by Ben’s sudden movement, he didn’t show it.

“Aye aye, Gov.” Butcher shrugged, and as Ben marched down the hall he heard Butcher say one last thing before following. “We’ll see you all in bloody hell.”

Ben’s body was rigid. His hand had dropped into his suits’ pocket, gripping the crumpled piece of paper in it might suddenly make Her fucking appear. Nobody spoke until they returned to the van, and the Thing wouldn’t stop hissing in his ear.

She’s alone. She’s not safe. Homelander might already know where she is, and she’ll freeze. She’ll see him and freeze and he’ll lock her up again.

“Frenchie,” Butcher’s terse words were barely audible over the ringing in Ben’s ears. “Check the cams.”

That got Ben’s attention, the Thing falling silent as he asked, “Cams?”

“Monitors,” Butcher grunted. “All around the house.” He raised his brows at Ben, the smirk on his face slightly strained. “You didn’t think we just left you two alone together with blind fuckin faith?”

“Butcher,” the French Prick held up a flat piece of glass that reminded Ben of Her phone. “She is in the kitchen, all is well.”

Ben didn’t bother to ask before he grabbed the fucking thing out of the French Prick’s hands. He narrowed his eyes as he examined it, the display filled with high angled videos of the safe house. The living room, completely empty and the TV off. The dining room, furniture shoved to the side with a few scorch marks on the floor. The entrance hall, lights off and Her boots near the door.

The kitchen, where She was moving around in the same clothes he’d left her in. Talking to someone they couldn't see.

Ben’s blood ran cold, and the Thing was spinning in his gut.

“I can’t fucking hear her.” Ben snapped, looking up at the French Prick. “She’s talking to someone. Who the fuck is she talking to.”

“The audio’s off, Mate.” Butcher rolled his eyes, giving Ben an amused look that, in any other scenario, would’ve resulted in a loss of his sight privileges.

“Turn it on.” Ben ordered, and the French Prick glanced at Butcher uncertainty. Butcher only shrugged.

“Don’t make no bloody difference to me. Whatever keeps the cunt from exploding.”

The French Prick nodded, and tried to grab the device from Ben with no success.

“Fucking watch it,” Ben growled, gripping the glass block—Her—tightly.

“I cannot give you sound if you will not let me touch the screen, Soldier Boy. S’il te plaît.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“He’s fucking saying please, Gov.” Butcher gave Ben a bored look. “Give Frenchie the damn tablet, or you don’t get to fucking hear Sunshine.”

Ben hated the way Butcher said Sunshine, drawling with a snipe in his voice. But he hated—the Thing hated—not knowing what She was saying just a fucking fraction more, so Ben shoved the “tablet” into the French Pricks hands.

“Fix it.” He glared at French Prick, who nodded nervously and started tapping the glass in quick movements.

The audio sounded suddenly through the van, a lot louder than Ben had expected. Even Butcher’s heart stuttered as Her voice filled the small space. The Thing fell quiet, desperate to hear what She was saying, who she was saying it to, if she sounded afraid or in pain.

She didn’t. She wasn’t even talking to anyone. Ben watched Butcher’s jaw drop, the French Prick’s eyes widen, and Kimiko’s head shoot up as they all realized what they were hearing at the same time he did.

She was singing.

Her voice was clear, and controlled, and powerful. It rolled like wind, hitting every high and dipping to every low, holding long notes with a vengeful strength. It moved into Ben’s bones, ran through his blood. The Thing sighed in fucking content at the sound, and Ben didn’t fucking blame it. It sounded like honey and silk and the sun. It felt good.

“She said she couldn’t bloody sing.” Ben looked up at Butcher, whose voice was cold and face was drawn into frown. “That sounds like she can fucking sing.”

Ben grunted. She had said she couldn’t sing. She’d described her singing as hell-like. This wasn’t fucking hell-like by a million goddamn miles.

“Maybe she had a reason,” the French Prick reasoned, but his voice was unsteady, unsure. “It would be a very strange thing to lie about, non? ”

Kimiko slapped the French Prick, gesturing something that made his eyes grow even fucking wider.

“ Mon Coeur, why wouldn’t she tell us though?”

More fucking silent gestures. Ben’s patience snapped.

“What the fuck is she saying?” He demanded, and the French Prick looked back at him wearily.

“She remembers something Homelander said.” The French Prick glanced back at Kimiko. “He, ah, he asked if she had sung for us. Said that was how she ‘worked her spell’. Kimiko believes that she does not sing because of Homelander.”

“Mate, she’s singing right bloody now.” Butcher sneered, and Kimiko glared at him, making more aggressive gestures.

“She says that she does not know people are watching.” The French Prick said carefully. “And that it does not matter, because it is not our business anyway. Because we are spying on her, and she would tell us if it really mattered.”

She would, the Thing rumbled inside of Ben, still satiated by Her voice. She doesn’t lie to us.

She fucking might have, though. As strange a lie as it was, it was still a goddamn lie she had told him, countless times, that she couldn’t sing. Ben glanced down at the tablet, trying to see Her face, figure out what she was fucking thinking.

She wasn’t in the kitchen, and something sharp tore through Ben.

“Where the fuck did she go?” He snapped at the French Prick, who looked down with a frown and began to press the screen once more.

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed, flitting across the display. “Likely the bathroom? She is not gone, as we can still hear her. She has just moved.”

Something occurred to Ben, tearing through his brain as it settled between torn comfort at Her safety and anger at her lie. “Are there cameras all over the house?” He asked, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat.

“Nah, Gov.” Butcher gave him another amused look. “We got audio everywhere, but no cameras in the bedrooms or bathrooms. We ain’t fucking creeps.”

Ben grunted in acknowledgement, his own heart fading into the background once more. They hadn’t seen his new habits. They didn’t know, and they wouldn��t tell Her.

You should tell Her, the Thing mumbled, somehow being less fucking helpful than ever before.

He wasn’t going to fucking tell Her. He didn’t fucking have to. In fact, as Her voice continued to flow like goddamn wine through the van, he was going to have a fucking chat with her when they got back. It didn't matter that her voice was just one more way in which she was perfect. She’d fucking lied.

But what made Ben even angrier than Her lie was that, no matter how fucking hard he tried, he wasn’t able to stop wanting to get back to her. That the Thing wasn’t angry, but had started to imagine how She’d sound if he had her singing and moaning at the same time. Ben couldn’t force the image of Her, using this same smooth voice against his ear as his fucked her, stopping every time her voice faltered, until she was a perfect mess of beautiful sounds under him

He wasn’t able to stop the feeling creeping through him that, even if She had lied, even if her reasoning was fucking shit, he wouldn’t stop sleeping peacefully in her bed.

———-

You hated Ben. You hated his smug smile and perfect face. You hated his strong body and pretty eyes. You hated his stupid deep voice that rumbled through you and his laugh that echoed in your head. You hated how he wasn’t here right now, so you could yell at him and not have this worry eating you alive. You hated that he’d left you for his own, fucked up, noble reasons, because when you’d hugged him you’d felt that concrete resolve running through him, and realized it was protectiveness. You hated how that revelation made you miss him more.

You hated that, if he wasn’t back by nightfall, you weren’t certain you’d fucking sleep. Because you’d made a huge mistake, let the desperate feeling in your head win, and asked Ben to sleep in your bed. It had felt so important at the time, because everything had been loud and your mind had been shattering, and he’d been quiet and firm. You had felt like a hurricane was eating you, and Ben had been an island that wrapped around your heart and chased away the storm. One night, you had told yourself. One night to chase away the screams.

Then he’d started calling you brat, and it made you feel warm and soft. He’d laughed when you’d punch his jaw with a fist wrapped in flames, and you’d felt his pride rush through you. He’d draped his arm around your shoulders, and you’d felt safe. And you’d started to get sleepy, and his hand had brushed your arm, and the feeling in your head had started singing. So you had caved to it again, and asked him to sit with you again. You’d even given him an out, just until you fell asleep, because the feeling in your head had been desperate. So desperate that when Ben told you to beg, you had. You had sucked it up—ignored how the request also made you feel warm—and begged. When he’d agreed, the feeling in your head had let out a long sigh of relief, even though you’d reminded yourself he’d probably return to his room once you were soundly under.

But he hadn’t. He’d stayed. He’d slept. You had woken up, feeling something heavy on around you. Your heart had felt so peaceful, so calm, and when you’d opened your eyes you’d realized Ben’s were closed. After you’d decided that he was actually asleep, you’d noticed that the heavy thing was his arm, holding you against him. And that made the feeling in your head start to ache. Then you’d noticed that Ben snored. Loudly. It was a deep, lulling sound that had wrapped around you, and pulled you right back into sleep’s hold.

The next night, you’d been tearing your insides apart, trying to fight the feeling in your head from grabbing your tongue and making you ask him to sleep in your bed again, when he’d look at you in the glow of the TV and solved the problem for you.

“It’s late.” He’d said, and you’d scoffed.

“Really?” Your voice had been sarcastic, and you’d given him a fake, wide-eyed look of disbelief. “I thought the Sun had just decided to take fifteen.” “Shut up, brat.” He’d smirked back at you, and your whole body had done a little flip under your skin, the feeling in your head spreading everywhere. “You’re tired.”

He hadn’t been asking. He’d been telling. And been entirely correct in a way that made the Feeling very happy and you very annoyed. “No, I’m not. Cunt.” Your protest had sounded weak, especially given that you’d almost immediately yawned after saying it.

“Sunshine, you look like shit.” You’d frowned at him, and he’d rolled his eyes as he continued. “Pretty shit, but shit.”

The Feeling liked being called pretty. You were caught up on the shit aspect. “You don’t look any better,” you’d grumbled. It wasn’t true, he looked so good it made you violent, but he didn’t have to know that.

Ben had winked. “Sure, Sunshine. Just try not to pass out on the couch. I don’t want sit here all night, but there’s no fucking way I’m carrying you up the stairs.”

It had taken a moment to notice his implication, and when you had the Feeling become heavy. “You’re sleeping in my bed again?”

He hadn’t looked at you when he’d answered with a shrug. “Sure.”

And that was that. He’d started to spend the night in your bed, you’d started to sleep eight hours instead of four, and he’d started to sleep three instead of zero.

Overall it might not have been a mistake, just a very productive arrangement, if it hadn’t made the feeling big. If it hadn’t started to feel so instinctual and easy that, now that there was even the prospect of him not being here by nightfall, you felt wired. The Feeling was electric, and was making you miss him, and you were going to go insane.

Don’t fucking miss me too much, Sunshine. Ben’s last words before he’d left mocked you, and you wanted him to come back so you could punch him for jinxing you like that. He’d been gone for barely an hour, and the Feeling was all across you, missing him.

You were alone, without him for the first time in almost two months, and all you could do was miss his stupid face and safe touch. This was not a long-term, sustainable way of life. You’re still productive—You do laundry, yours and Ben’s, and you wash dishes, and you swap out Ben’s empty, pine-scented body wash for a full one that was under the cupboard—but the whole time you’re just missing him.

You reasoned that it wasn’t actually Ben himself that was clawing at you. You just hadn’t really been alone—or at least alone without fearing for your life every waking second—since before Homelander took you. And at that point, if you had felt this antsy, jumping feeling of uselessness, you’d been able to go for a walk. Call a friend. Go to a coffee shop.

Now it was just you, the safe house, and plague-like thoughts of Ben.

Just you. Nobody else. Nobody even near you.

You could sing. Nobody was here, so you could sing.

It started slow. You hummed Moon River, feeling out what happened.

Fractured memories began to surround you. The kitchen of the safe house faded into the background, and you were standing in a hazy version of your childhood bedroom. You felt something soft in your hands, and looked down to see your baby blanket your hands. When you looked back up, your mother was before you. Smiling, her face so much softer than it ever was outside of hazy, warped fantasies of childhood. You could feel a breeze coming from somewhere, and when you turned your gaze to the ceiling, it was gone. Instead a vast night sky hung over your head, complete with stars and a moon that was far too large, glowing brightly. By the time you reached the end of the song, soft instrumentals had begun to fill the space.

You’d never done that before. Though you’d also never really tried. You hadn’t test yourself since you’d realized what singing did, right after the third shot of V.

You chose a different song. Another one your mother had loved, another one she used to make you sing at chandelier light and champagne filled parties. Then, suddenly, you were there. In a gaudy, marble ballroom, your skin itching from lace that was too revealing, your mother smiling, the senator on her arm, visible through the faceless crowd. When you turned your head, Violet was at your side, and you could feel your baby sister’s grip on your hand. She wasn’t looking at you though. Violet was watching one of the senator's largest donors through the crowd, frowning as he moved toward your mother. As he pointed at you.

Suddenly Violet was gone, and you were on a stage. Velvet carpet below you, light’s blinding your view of the crowd’s vulture-like gaze. Your skin itched—just like it had at thirteen—but you realized you could hear the instrumentals.

What else could you do? A little voice asked. This might be your only chance to find out.

So you sang. For the whole day.

You sang an older rock song your Dad loved, one that took you to a mold-filled apartment in Boston where the paint on the walls peeled and the bricks around the code-breaking fireplace cracked. You learned you could do drums.

You hummed a classical piece that your nerdy brother, Henry, used to make you listen to. That took you to your grandparent’s house, an old film with a now-familiar playing in the background as thin, old faces that always scowled watched you from far, far above. You learned you just do full orchestral, from woodwinds to strings to the cannon at the end.

You sang a pop song that Alexa, your other sister, had made you learn the choreography to, and that made you feel light and bubbly, the world around you turning into a glittery fever dream and the ground vanishing from your feet. You learned it didn’t have to be memories.

You still couldn’t control it, not in the slightest. You tried to see how small you could make the effects, but the most you could figure out was that the shorter the song, the less appeared. A fast run through of some nursery rhymes resulted in only brief aberrations of sheep and rain, gone in seconds. A full run through of an album threw you into a dreamscape, and by the end of it you realized it was less the song, and more you. If the song made you think of grand things, grand things surrounded you. If the song reminded you of the past, memories flooded the world.

If the song reminded you of Ben, he was there.

That one was an accidental discovery. You’d gotten tired, realized you’d become sweaty from dancing with the music, and gotten in the shower. You’d started to hum a slower song, a romantic song with long notes and soft piano, and expected the water to fill with phantom rose petals and hearts to draw on steamed glass.

You’d frozen in surprise when you’d felt hands on your body, resting on your hips, and turned to find Ben standing above you, watching you with a smirk. Looking—feeling—very, very real.

Your voice had died in your throat, heat creeping through your body, and Ben had vanished before you. That would have been bad enough, and mortification covering you might stay there for the rest of your life. Unfortunately for you, the Feeling wasn’t embarrassed. The Feeling was needy, and just an absolute bitch that grabbed your jaw, and made you start singing again.

Ben reappeared, and this time his hands didn’t just rest on your hips. They moved. Everywhere. Along your breasts, taunting, down to your ass, squeezing, and against your waist, hold you firmly as his head dropped to yours. Fake-Ben kissed you, and you were reduced to desperate humming to keep him intact. Had it not been for the Feeling, forcefully keeping your voice alive, you’d have moaned and the whole thing would’ve disappeared. By some miracle, you keep your voice semi-steady, and Fake-Ben stayed. He kissed you deeper, beard soft against your skin, grip growing tighter as your hands wrapped around his neck. His mouth dropped from your own to rest at your neck, still kissing as one hand started to knead against your skin, the other dropping between your legs. Resting his palm right against you, drawing back to his full height with a smug, crooked smile as he started to rub. Smile growing as one finger teased your folds, the pushed into you, the base of his hand still grinding against that sensitive spot. Going and going and going-

You learned that, in both a gift and very cruel twist of fate, Fake-Ben could give you very real orgasms.

This was a very unproductive discovery for the Feeling, who wanted you to sing forever. The Feeling didn’t care about who heard, the Feeling just wanted that to happen over and over again until you died. You, still aching, desperate, and dazed, were a very susceptible subject to the Feeling, who was making a lot of very good points.

Right up until you heard the door slam downstairs, and Ben—real Ben—was roaring your name.

You heard his heavy steps move up the stairs, and there was a pounding at your bedroom door. Ben yelled your name again, his voice sharp and angry. “I know you’re in there, Sunshine! I can hear your fucking heart!”

Swearing under your breath, you scrambled out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body as you stumbled to open the door. Not once had Ben’s banging ceased, meaning that when you finally twisted the knob, he almost fell onto you from momentum. Though you managed to dodge his body, your shoulder brushed and a bolt of molten anger twisted through your gut and into your chest.

You stared at each for a second after Ben regained his balance.

“You’re back.” You said stupidly.

“You were showering.” He responded. Stupidity seemed to be going around.

“Uh, I didn’t think you’d be back for another few hours.” You mumbled, unsure if the guilt in your voice was from your misestimation of time or the Feeling pushing you to lean forward and touch him.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, and his voice turned harsh. “Clearly.”

“Clearly?” You repeated with a frown. “It’s just a shower-“

“Did you know, Sunshine, that Butcher filled the house with cameras?” Ben asked with a scowl.

You could feel yourself pale. “What?”

“Cameras. Everywhere but the bedrooms and bathrooms. To keep an eye on us. With audio.”

“Audio…” Your eyes widened, and something heavy dropped on your chest. “ Audio?”

Ben was watching you with that dissecting gaze, one you hadn’t been on the receiving end of since the beginning. “Audio.” His face twisted into a sneer. “I was under the impression, Sunshine, that you couldn’t fucking sing.”

There were two options here. One, double down. Lie through your teeth and stand your ground until it was pulled from under you. Two, come clean. Apologize a lot, try and feel out what Ben knew and what he didn’t, and apologize some more.

You were in favor of the first. The Feeling was in favor of the second.

“I- um, I didn’t mean- whatever you saw-”

“Why did you lie?” Ben cut you off before you could even figure out what you had been trying to say. “About singing? Was it because of Homelander?”

The heavy thing was sitting in your lungs. The Feeling was spinning through you, and fire was crawling under your skin. “Homelander?”

“Did he make you sing for him? Is that why you don’t?”

You stared at him with a slack jaw, the fire filling up in your ears. “What- How-“ Your eyes narrowed as the fire drowned out the Feeling. “I’ve never told anyone that, Ben. Not Butcher, not Annie or MM. Definitely not you.”

“Well,” he spat. “That's two fucking lies then.”

Stand your ground it was. “That’s not a fucking lie, dick-for-brains. It’s a goddamn-“

“ Omission?” He gave you a mocking, taut smile. “An omission is a lie, Sunshine.”

The Feeling was loud again, spinning at the fact that he actually listened to your words. Fortunately your fury at him using those words against you was bigger. “Shut the fuck up, Pretty Boy. This isn’t the same as you purposefully hiding something important.”

“How the fuck not?” Ben snapped. “If this is because of Homelander, I need to fucking know-“

“ Why?!” You shout, pushing his chest. “How the fuck is this something you need to know?”

“So I can fix-“

“Fix it?” You laugh. “We agreed not to fucking fix each other, remember? You don’t get to come in a heal my music hangup when you won’t let me anywhere fucking near your PTSD!”

“I don’t fucking have shell shock, like some fucking-” He growled, and you rolled your eyes.

“For fucks sake, you do! Any fucking idiot would take one look at you and go ‘yeah, that cunt has PTSD’! You’re just too much of a fucking pussy to do anything about it!”

“Well, any fucking idiot you look at you and know that Homelander fucking twisted your brains, Sunshine.” He roared. “You know what he fucking told us?!”

“What, that I’m an ungrateful slut who doesn’t deserve him, but he’ll love me anyways?” You hiss, echoing words long locked away in the back of your head. “That he’ll keep me close, because nobody else gets to have me? That he’d rather I die than leave him?”

Something very deep inside you was pulling apart. Something became frayed when Ben started at you with that one fucking look you can’t read as he spoke.

“That you fucking starved yourself. That he had to force you to eat.” Ben’s fists curled. “You didn’t fucking share that, Sunshine.”

You stumbled back like he’d punched you. It was hard to breathe, and all you could see was white light. The thing deep inside you snapped, and your legs gave out, falling back onto the mattress. Bright lights. Cold eyes. Fire and pain. Pain and exhaustion and hunger. So much hunger, but you couldn’t break. You’d let the hunger kill you before you broke. This was all you had, one last, desperate protest to keep yourself somewhat intact.

But you were so tired. And a cold hand was gripping your jaw, tugging it open until mush began to fall into your throat. No, no, no, you can’t lose, you can’t. This hunger is the last thing standing in his path-

Something wrapped around you, firm and warm, and that tugging on your heart returned.

He can’t win, if he wins then you’ll never leave. You’ll never leave anyway, but at least you’ll fall by your own hand and not his-

Something deep and soothing was in your ear, a voice edged with bloody concern. Almost desperate. Saying your name, again and again.

You can’t break, you can’t break -

The voice was humming. Moon River. Reaching into your head and slowing it, grounding the fire running through you, pulling the flames back into you. You blinked, breathing still quick and short but no longer impossible, and saw Ben staring at you. Felt his hands rubbing against your skin in small circles.

“Back with me, Sunshine?” Ben asked quietly, and you nodded.

“I burned your face.” You mumbled.

He just shrugged. “You burn, I burn.”

The Feeling was back, and with the soothing of his touch, you managed to speak. “Mini-Homelanders.” The words caught in your throat, only a little, but Ben frowned at you all the same.

“Mini-Homelanders?”

You nodded. “I told you he wanted to make mini-homelanders. That was the reason he took me in the first place.”

Ben said your name firmly. “You don’t have to do this right fucking now-“

“No, I do.” You take a deep breath. “Or I won’t do it at all.”

“Sunshine-“

You pushed on, the words falling out of you once you’d gained a pace. “He found out about Ryan, and wanted more children. I was just in the worst place at the worst time, singing at a Vought fundraiser, and that was it. I woke up in a cell the next day. When I realized what was happening, I fought, but this was a year before he started the V experiments so I didn’t stand a fucking chance. I tried to find smaller ways to fuck with him. I tried to kill myself so many times they started chaining my hands to the wall. I remembered for a psych class in college that eating disorders can lead to infertility, so I did that. Eventually Homelander noticed, and didn’t take kindly to it.” You take a full, stuttering inhale. “I haven’t done it since I escaped.”

You felt something deep and wailful against your heart as Ben spoke careful words. “What about-“ he coughed slightly, and the thing against your heart grew strained. “Suicide. Has that-“

“Once,” you whisper. “Right after.”

“Oh.” He took a deep sigh of his own. “Sunshine I-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say as something desperate runs through you. “Please.”

He frowns, but nods. “Ok.”

You’re silent, sitting on your bed and watching each other from long minutes before you speak.

“You’re getting better at this.” You attempt a smile.

His brows furrow. “Better at what?”

“Dealing with me.”

“I’m not ‘dealing with you’, Sunshine.” Ben grumbled. “I’m-“

“Fixing me?” Your smile feels a bit more real. “Does that mean I get to fix you?”

He’s silent, and you’re prepared to back track. It had been a shitty joke, and you didn’t want to keep fighting. You didn’t think you could. The Feeling was keeping you on the ground by a thread, and your heart was flipping and stretching in ways that hurt-

“What would you do?” Ben grunted, and you blinked at him.

“Wha-”

“ If I had Shell Shock. PTSD. What would you do.”

“I’d heal it,” you say softly. “It would probably just be us sitting together, and I’d hold your arm, and heal it.” You frown to yourself. “It might take time, I’ve never used this power like this before, not for something this intense. I’d essentially be re-writing the neuron pathways of your brain, so depending on how deep they go it could take just one day or… a lot longer.”

“Would it hurt you.” Ben frowns at you, saying his question in that way where he’s not really asking.

You answer anyway. “I don’t think so. It’s not like I can take your memories, I’d just be fixing how they are in your head. How they affect you now.”

Ben stares at you, and you can feel that resolve running over something louder and strained you don’t really understand. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Fine.”

“Fine? Fine like you’ll let me-“

“Yeah, Sunshine. Fine.” Ben looks you up and down, and you feel a weird flash of heat and hunger. “You’re tired.”

He’s doing the question that’s not a question thing again, but you are tired, you’re exhausted, so you can’t even be that mad at him.

You nod, humming in affirmation, and Ben stands suddenly, not looking at you as he moves out of your view.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says, and when turn his back is to yours.

“What? Why?”

“You burned off your towel.” Heat rushes through as you realize he’s right. “You always keep your clothes in the bathroom when you shower. Go change.”

Another wave of heat settles into you, the Feeling rolling around in it as it does. You stand and shuffle to the bathroom, Ben remaining in his spot, and you change into the shirt and shorts you had indeed left by the sink.

When you exit, now fully decent, Ben’s suit is laying on your dresser—traded for a pair of sweats and shirt he must have found in the laundry basket—and he’s still staring at your wall like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You lay a hand on his arm, and are almost knocked over by the sudden thirst that runs through you. The Feeling is whining and insatiable. Then Ben looks down at you, and you think you might fall over. The Feeling wanted to grab him, your heart was howling, and his eyes were like a drug -

“We ready for bed?” Ben says, and you have to swallow to be able to answer.

“Uh, yeah.” You blink at Ben, his words echoing in your head, and realize that the hot fury in your stomach—his stomach—is gone. “You’re not mad at me? Even after I-“

“Omitted a truth?” Ben gave you a loose smile, and the Feeling squirmed. “I’m calling it even, Sunshine. Now let’s get you bed, you look like you’re about to fucking collapse.”

You were, but not because of fatigue. And Ben didn’t have to know that, especially because he would probably just laugh and you’d be left alone with the Feeling.

“I might have those kinds of nightmares,” you whisper, touching his chest. Offering another out. “If I do, I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. Badly.”

“I’ll get over it.” He says, and that’s it. You both move to the bed, taking your unspoken places on each side of the mattress, and you’re ready to go through the motions. You fall asleep and he moves you against him, he falls asleep second and you wake up to watch him for a while before returning to sleep once more.

But Ben doesn’t remain tensely upright at your side. When you lie down, he does as well. Then, before you’ve even really processed the first new thing, Ben pulls you fully against him, arms around your body as your head rests on his chest. You don’t say anything—the Feeling is pleased and you’re a little afraid he’ll vanish if you even speak—so you take the folds of his shirt in your hands, and press your face deep into his shirt. He smells like coffee and gunpowder and pine trees, his heart is steady, and he’s warm.

You decided it—the Feeling, the shower, the grip on your heart when he touches you—was because he was safe. From you. You could not hurt him, he was the only person in the world you really couldn’t hurt, so that’s why you caved, and let him hold you. Nothing more, nothing less.

You felt alive with Ben because, by completely coincidental fate, you could be.

You had no nightmares when you slept in his arms because Ben wasn’t having any, and his own peace ran into yours.

The Feeling was quiet because your heart was beating in time with the world, and it felt good.

This felt… good.

End Note: Everyone say a very big thank you to @acciditties for single handedly removing our “no beta” tag as we earn our “smut” tag. Also, if If you thought their pining was bad this chapter, think again! These two are about to ignore their emotions at an Olympic level!

261 notes · View notes

uheartlynn · 27 days ago

Text

𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢

modern au! ᥫ᭡.

fluff and quiet bakugo

mha 1-A big three going to a cafe almost every day to see there favorite barista:>

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

bakugo katsuki,, cute college boy from ua !

he’s a regular, always ordering chai tea lattes with extra cinnamon on top.

you see him almost every day, (besides on ur days off ofc) you sometimes even wonder if he knows ur schedule..

you think he’s cute! he’s not rlly chatty tho. but sometimes you can catch him staring at you while asking him if he wants any dairy substitutions or when your working on his drink hehe

he’s so generous! he leaves the cute girl serving him coffee (you) a 25% tip.

“that’d be 4.23 today sir, thank you!” you say as you waved off your last customer. humming to the busy streets of tokyo, you hear the door bell ring. “welcome!” you yell, looking down at your notebook.

you hear rushed foot steps come towards you, looking up the customer, you see the same blonde boy with dark red eyes. “oh welcome in, katsuki was it?” you say smiling.

‘you remember his name?’ he thought. you see the tips of his ears turn red. “yeah. hi. could i get my regular?” he says. “of course, a 12oz i presume?” you smile tapping on the ipad register.

for some reason, his heart flutters. he feels giddy when you memorize what he wants. “mhm, yeah and could i get some cold foam on top, and cinnamon too. please.” he says. you nod. he just thinks your so cute, nodding at him like that. you notice him brush your hand against yours while handing you money; you fluster, but don’t mention anything though.

“thank you katsuki, tip?” (haha, the required question at work ,:<) he’s so kind. he gave you 25% and even a extra five dollars in cash! “aw, thank you so much! you’re so kind to me.” before he says anything, you stroll off to get started on his drink. he walks away too and sits down, pulling out a laptop and two small notebooks. he watches you, moving swiftly around making his drink. ‘should i ask her? it’s empty.. damn, why am i nervous? she’ll probably say yes. not like im some loser like deku..’

“katsuki! a chai latte for katsuki!” you yell. why do you have to be so cute? even when your just calling out for him to get his latte! he gets up and grabs it from you, but he stays there for a second staring right at you. you get nervous.. did i mess up his drink? wait he didn’t even tried it yet. “m, is something the matter sir?” he looks up at you.

“date. with me. go on a date with me.” he says looking anywhere but you with a sweet (but barely noticeable) blush on his face. he puts a piece of paper with his number on it in your hand, and walks away.

izuku midoriya, the sweetie who you spend breaks w/ <3

he’s also a regular! he’s always there waiting for your lunch break to spend time with u

you guys are school mates, he makes official “coffee (friend) dates” with you to support his delulu of actually dating you ‘^^

he has green hair, so he gets a sweet matcha with whipped cream! and he gets a bagel sandwich for some extra nutrition.

you guys actually do anatomy together for school! that’s how you met, so cute! he’s a double major. anatomy and criminology, duh. (hehe, since he writes abt quirks and he’s a hero:3)

“izuku, thanks so much for coming again! i really needed help with tonight’s project.” you say, sitting yourself down next to him with a cup of mocha in your hands. he smiles sweetly at you, adoration in his eyes.

“haha, y/n i always come.” he chuckles, making you flustered. you open your drawing book he hands to you, a little structure of a puppy and it’s labeled features on it. he opens his book too, sipping his matcha. he starts to ramble and rumble about class.

“and then, Iida told Todoroki to “step up his game”, they were both actually confused on what he said- oh!” he feels your head on his shoulder, his face heats up. your not even asleep! what does he do?!

you chuckle, “haha, sorry izu if i caught you off guard.. it’s just i’m kinda cold. and your really warm!” you say, averting your glance away from him.

“o-oh, uh it’s ok y/n! i don’t mind actually..” he’s actually super duper happy on the inside! he wants to kiss you right then and there, but he’s worried that’s gonna jump right over your boundaries + he’s not that bold enough to do that with a girl yet! not just any girl, you!

“mm. izuku, your so sweet. i’m so happy your my best friend. but i’ve been kinda thinking..” you say, he perks up. “hm?”

“do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

todoroki shoto, the mysterious rich boy on the block !

that cool looking boy you always see on the same subway you take, with earbuds in reading a book

you also always see him at your small little cafe! you can’t help but have a crush on him

ok maybe a big crush on him

he’s so mature too! he doesn’t order a mocha frappuccino like others, (which i love btw) but he orders a medium iced black coffee!

he’s also very generous with tips and once he even asked for your name! he’s very straight forward

“hi, welcome in.” you tell him. he gives you a small smile, your chest tightens. ‘dang he’s so cute, i wish i could just try to have the courage to talk to him on break’ :< “excuse me, are you ok? your face is red.” he says. you gasp quietly, ‘was i blushing?!’ “oh no no, i’m ok! what should you like?” you say brushing it off.

“oh alright. i’ll have a iced black coffee please.” he tells you. you nod, “ok! any sweet cream, milk, water, or cold foam you’d like? we have a sale on all additions on coffee.” you say sweetly. he blinks, “no thank you.” he says, already putting cash in the jar that says ‘tips for your kind barista!’

“oh thank you so much! hey, i always see you on the train. not trying to be weird! haha, just a coincidence.” ‘why did i say that.’

“oh, i sometimes see you as well.” he smiles. ‘huh, so she notices me. she’s different, and she’s kind. not to mention, pretty as well.’ (everyone notices you shoto!) “um excuse me,” he says, catching you by surprise

“yes?” you hum. “i was wondering if you’d like to spend some time with me. i would like to get to know you better.” he says, pointing at a empty table.

‘woah, he’s bold! wait is he asking me out, no he’s probably asking in like a “let’s be friends” sort of way.’ “um sure! haha actually it’s just in time for my break. my coworker mina will take care of your drink!” you smile. usually, you would say no if someone asked for your number or anything, but since he’s so polite and a school student (well you saw him walking out of ua university once) you could trust him! (actually don’t do this kids lol!)

you sit down together, it’s a little awkward..

“i was actually wondering, would you like to know me better? i find you delightful to be around with.. if it’s alright with you, of course.” he smiles.

my first fic! i hope you all enjoyed it | sorry if izuku and shotos are shorter than katsuki’s, i kinda got writers block there | more to come, not only for mha either! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

ᡣ𐭩

fandoms i’m in :

haikyuu

pjsk colorful stage

naruto

genshin impact

gilmore girls

diary of a wimpy kid (rodrick)

harry potter

saiki k

#first fix #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #mha #mha x reader #cafe aesthetic #college boys #skibdi #hawk tuah #fluff #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader fluff #mha izuku #deku x reader #todoroki x reader #mha shoto #izuku x reader fluff

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 1 month ago

Text

Request: If you want can you write one about shapeshifters confusing the sister? She doesn't know who is real and breaks down not knowing who she should trust and who to kill?

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: I just kept writing and writing about this one lol oops. I also didn’t proofread so my bad. Requests are open and I’m working hard on getting to everyone’s! Hope you like this:))

Lately, you were on edge and completely weighed down by the constant pressure of trying to save the world. It felt like the world was resting on your shoulders, and in many ways, it was. It left you anxious and overwhelmed, constantly worrying, no matter what you were doing. Your brothers could see how much it was affecting you, especially since you were only 16, and they wanted to do everything they could to protect you from the mental toll it was taking on you. You had just woken up when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Yeah?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes.

Sam pushed the door open and sent you a soft smile before walking to sit on the edge of your bed. You immediatly pushed yourself up in a sitting position and looked at him with worry.

“What?” You asked slightly panicking, hoping nothing bad happened. You knew he was about to get touchy feely and you were anxious to know why. Did something happen? Is someone hurt? Did someone die? Where’s Dean? Your thoughts were cut off by Sam placing a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s alright, everything’s okay.” He reassured, examining your worried face. He knew how anxious you’ve been lately so he sent you a pained smile before he continued, “Dean and I were talking and we thought it would be best if you stayed back instead of going on the hunt today.” He said, already knowing this conversation could go one of two ways.

“But-“ You started before he cut you off.

“Take a rest day bug, it’s okay. We can see the toll this has been taking on you and you need a mental reset.” He said softly.

“But, I-I’m okay.” You smiled, but your voice cracked and betrayed you.

“No, you’re not bug and that’s alright. I know it feels heavy right now and it’s okay to not be okay. Me and Dean have been through it, but you’re so young and no one should have to carry the weight of what you've been through. It’s important to take a day off to take care of yourself alright?” Sam said with his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Okay, yeah.” You said softly, nodding. Sam got up and pulled you into a hug.

“Love you bud.” He said before he kissed you on the side of the head.

“Love you too, be safe please.” You said, already feeling stressed out at the fact that your brothers are throwing themselves at danger once again and you won’t be there to immediately know the outcome of it.

“Always.” Sam reassured, sending out a wink and walking out of your room. You had five minutes of peace before you heard another knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You asked.

Dean stuck his head into the room and sent you a smile.

“Hey kid, I got you a bagel and a chocolate chip muffin and I already have Legally Blonde up on the tv for you.” He said already knowing how to start your self care day off right.

“Thank you!” You smiled and started to get out of bed to start your day.

“Call me if you need anything. We’re heading out now, okay?” He asked.

“Yes, please be careful.” You said shooting him a concerned look.

“Uh I am always careful.” He said matter of factly.

“Mhm.” You chuckled, going in to hug him.

“Love you kid, we should be back by tonight.” He said and ruffled your hair.

“Okay, love you.” You said, pulling away and watching him walk out.

It was around 7pm when you heard some noise outside of your room. You quietly opened the door and saw Dean in the hallway. He didn’t notice you as he walked into his own room. You decided to go to the kitchen to grab one of the cookies you baked earlier to give him one to try. As you walked towards the kitchen the front door opened and in walked Dean.

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said when he saw you. He was making his way down the steps as you froze.

“I-I-I-“ You were confused for about 15 seconds before your heart dropped. This wasn’t Dean. Dean was just down the hall. But what if that wasn’t Dean and this is actually the real Dean. Your thoughts were wild and your heart was pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“No.” You whispered and began to back up away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” He asked, now on high alert.

“Get away from me!” You shouted in fear.

“What the fuck?” He said to himself as he put his hands up in defense.

“Where’s Sam?” You asked forcibly, still back away from Dean.

“He’s picking up some food. What’s going on kid?” He asked.

“You were just in your room.” You stated aggressively.

“No I wasn’t.” He responded, confused.

“Exactly.” You sucked in a breath of terror before you bolted out of the room, ready to fight for your life.

“What the hell?” You heard him say as you sprinted into your room. You grabbed your gun and bolted back out towards Dean��s room where you saw him enter just moments before the other Dean walked through the front door. Just as you were about to reach his room, he walked out. You jumped in fear and put the gun behind your back.

“Oh hey kiddo I was just about to come check on you. Sammy ran out to grab us some food.” He finished just as the other Dean rounded the corner to the hallway to find out what was going on with you.

“What the fuck?” They both said at the same time. You brought your gun out from behind your back and shakily held it in front of you, frantically switching between the two Dean’s unsure of who was who.

“Hey Y/N, I need you to trust me and walk towards me right now.” Dean 2, the one that just walked up, said calmly, but urgently. You immediately turned the gun to Dean 1.

“Alright, hey, take it easy, okay?” Dean 1 said with his hands out in front of him, his eyes not leaving yours. “I need you to be smart about this kid. You know me. Shoot him!” He shouted.

You let out a frustrated cry and turned the gun onto Dean 2. You didn’t know who was who and you were freaking out.

“I’m Dean alright?! I’m Dean. You’ve gotta help me out here kid and walk towards me because that’s the shapeshifter, not me.” He said urgently. You were so overwhelmed and tears started to pour down your cheeks as you flipped the gun back onto Dean 1.

“SHOOT HIM Y/N!” Dean 1 yelled at you, but you didn’t falter your gun. “SHOOT HIM!” He screamed at you again. You jumped in freight, but continued to point the gun at him. Dean 1 was so persistent on you killing Dean 2 while Dean 2 seemed like his only goal was to protect you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dean 1 shouting once more.

“SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM!” His demand boomed through the halls making you panic and freeze. He started charging towards you and thats all it took to for you to snap out of it and shoot him twice. He fell to the floor dead.

“Oh thank God.” You heard the real Dean sigh in relief from behind you, but you felt anything but relief. You were left in a trance staring at dead fake Dean, but he looked so real to you. All of your emotions were threatening to spill over. You were so worked up over saving the world while also worrying about your brothers safety. You were scared that you could lose one of them in an instant and now seeing dead fake Dean was too much for you to handle. He was identical to your brother and though he wasn’t really your brother it didn’t leave much up to the imagination if you ever really did lose him. You sunk to the floor staring at the shapeshifter with tears now trailing down your cheeks.

“Dean?” You whispered weakly staring at your brother’s lifeless body knowing that it wasn’t actually him, but not able to shake the emotions you felt. Suddenly your vision was cut off by someone standing in front of you.

“Hey, it’s me, it Dean. It’s okay.” Dean said kneeling down in front of you, but you couldn’t focus on anything as you stared blankly ahead stuck in your own mind. It felt as though nothing around you was real and you were unable to move or speak.

“Hey kiddo you with me?” He asked getting increasingly more worried as he lightly tapped your face with no reaction from you.

“Alright you’re in shock, that’s alright, that’s okay, just know I’m here sweetheart, alright? You’re safe, I’m okay. Everything’s okay, I promise.” He soothed trying to get you to a safe mental space. He started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to try and ground you which worked. You blinked hard before opening your eyes again. Your eyes met Dean’s who were already boring into yours and your flood gates opened. You started sobbing and felt Dean take you into his arms. You gripped onto his shirt tight and clung to him.

“De.” You whimpered into his chest.

“Hey, yeah, I got you. It’s me, I’m alright, I’m here.” He said softly understanding that with your recent emotions seeing him lifeless was too much for you to handle. He gripped you tighter as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shh, shh, everything’s alright kid.” He said.

“I’m just so scared to lose you.” You whimpered, feeling your body start to shake.

“You’re not ever going to lose me.” He reassured you and rubbed your back to calm your trembles.

“I- just- the body looks identical to you.” You stuttered trying to find the words to get it out. You felt Dean nod.

“I know kid, I know. It’s alright.” He said softly, understanding exactly where your mental breakdown came from. You pulled away and wiped your tears.

“Okay we should um we should probably do something about this body then.” You mumbled glancing at the shapeshifter, still feeling uneasy.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it. Sam should be here any minute with dinner so go wait for him in the other room alright?” Dean asked, staring down at you.

“Um yeah alright.” You said and walked towards the kitchen. Just as you sat down, Sam walked through the door with bags in hand.

“Hey bug!” He smiled. “How was your day?” He asked before setting the food on the table and getting a good look at you. As soon as he did his face fell.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly seeing your tear stained face. You immediately got up and hugged him, still slightly shaking from earlier.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You felt his chest rumble as he asked you.

“There was a shapeshifter.” You mumbled, gripping onto his shirt tighter.

“What?” Sam asked in confusion pulling you away from him to look you in the eyes.

“There was a shapeshifter who looked like Dean and I couldn’t tell who was who, but I killed the shapeshifter and it just scared me.” You spoke slowly.

“Okay.” Sam shook his head, but still was in absolute confusion on what happened and how it had happened.

“Where’s Dean now?” He asked, trying to understand more.

“Dealing with the body.” You said and went back into his arms, needing comfort once more.

“Okay, alright.” He said and held you close to him.

“Just freaked me out a little bit.” You whispered.

“l understand bug, it’s alright.” He reassured you, rubbing your back. After a couple minutes you pulled away from him and sent him a soft smile.

“You okay?” He asked, still concerned with your mental state.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” You responded and sent him one of your cheesy thumbs up. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright do you wanna get our dinner out of the bag and put it on the table while I go talk to Dean?” He asked, motioning to the diner bags he had placed on the table.

“Yeah sure.” You responded as he sent you a quick nod and left the room.

You got the table ready and put the food out on the table. Your eyes caught the cookies you totally forgot you baked and got them ready to put on the table also for your brothers to try. As you were walking towards the table with the plate your brothers both walked in.

“I baked cookies today!” You said enthusiastically.

“Your scrumptious secret recipe cookies?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Duh.” You chuckled and shook your head yes. He immediately snagged one off the plate. You looked back at him after you placed the rest on the table and noticed it was already gone.

“Damn you’re the real Dean all right.” You laughed. He sent you a wink and you all sat down at the table to eat. As you opened up your to go box you couldn’t help, but notice the exchanges your brothers were making.

“What?” You asked.

“How was your day?” Sam asked.

“It was actually pretty good!” You said before looking down at the table. “The shapeshifter stuff just threw me off a little bit, but other than that I had a really good day.” You finished.

“Alright well tomorrow we’re all having an off day together kiddo just me you and Sammy.” Dean grinned, knowing you needed to spend time with them.

“Good thing I have three face masks left still.” You smirked, looking between your brothers.

“Good thing Sammy loves to be pampered.” Dean smirked.

“Dean give me a break, you pamper yourself more than Y/N pampers herself.” Sam scoffed.

“That’s actually true.” You laughed.

“Oh be quiet you two.” Dean said in a high pitched girly voice making you all laugh.

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I love your work btw <3

I was wondering about Yandere!Miguel x Female!Reader . I loved your breeding one but I’m open to anything you’re willing to write. Just your yandere Miguel is one of my favorites :3

Thank you in advance <3

Yandere Miguel is getting quite popular for me, haha. I've done a few of him before and was going to wait until I write the mini series, but I can make this one separate from the series I'm going to write.

Here we goooo~

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, p in v, breeding, manipulation

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello, I'm (Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you all. I'll try my best to help everyone out!"

Miguel's eyes widen as he watched you introduce yourself to his group at Alchemax. You were a new hire, a beautiful one at that. Miguel felt his heart race as he already knew that you were meant for him. You were meant to be with him.

"Oh, I'm not as smart as the rest of you all. I'm just here to help file paperwork," You kept answering questions.

Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek as his coworkers kept talking to you. How dare they? Taking deep breathes, Miguel kept his composure and decided to approach you. Everyone moved away from him for a good reason.

"We're happy to have you working with us, (Y/N)." Miguel said with a warm smile, holding his hand out.

"T-Thanks," You stuttered, shaking his hand.

Miguel hummed lowly. Your hands were soft. Once you let go, you immediately went to your new station. As much as Miguel wanted to follow, he needed to know more about you first.

--------

You had only been working at Alchemax for a week and already felt drained. This was a job opportunity given to you by a distant family member. You didn't even want to work here, but you needed some good money and fast.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you thought of all your bills. You were told to move out the moment you turned eighteen and these last few years have been a struggle for you. Lately, it just kept getting worse and you were on the verge of breaking.

"Looks like you need a pick me up," Miguel said as he dropped off a bagel and coffee. You quickly rubbed your eyes,

"Thanks, Miguel. This is sweet of you," You told him.

Miguel was the nicest and hottest coworker you had. Every time you were confused or had an issue, he came over to help you. You were happy that you were on his good side since he was the smartest and grumpiest person in this whole building according to your other coworkers.

"We're going to do an experiment soon, want to take a break and come watch?" Miguel offered. You glanced towards him, a fleeting blush against your cheeks,

"Sure,"

-----------

Miguel was winning you over, he knew it. You had been working at Alchemax for over a month and Miguel was starting to lose his patience. Plus, his temper.

The amount of coworkers he had to intimate because they looked at you.

The amount of coworkers he had gotten fired just because they talked to you.

The amount of coworkers he met after work as Spiderman to teach a lesson for having the balls to ask you out.

Miguel patience was running thin. He needed to take you away from all of these vultures. You were too good for any of them. Too good for him even, but Miguel did not care.

"Hey...Miguel, are you free this Friday night?" You were hesitate to approach him. Miguel's eyes sparkled, enjoying this shy side of you,

"Yes, why?"

"Well...I was wondering, and you can say no, but do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"I'd love too,"

Perfect. Not the way he expected, but a date is a date. Miguel was going to take this opportunity to make you his girlfriend. Once that step was secured, Miguel needed to start making you dependable on him for everything in your life.

To have you only rely on him.

---------

Humming happily to your playlist, you sat in your room, texting Miguel. You had officially became his girlfriend after your first date with him and everything was going amazing. Miguel was the perfect boyfriend.

You squealed, laying on your bed as Miguel texted loving comments about you. You had only been dating him a month and you couldn't get him off your mind. Miguel was helping you with everything, from your work life to even home issues.

"Ah! Already?!" You gasped, looking at the time.

Miguel was coming over to help you with managing your bills. Quickly, you got dressed and hurried towards the kitchen. Snacks, check. Drinks, check. Sexy lingerie, check.

"Beautiful as always, amor (love)." Miguel pecked your lips as you opened the door for him.

Miguel watched your excitement build as you eagerly showed him your apartment. It was small, but Miguel was going to let you have this moment. Soon, you'd be living with him. Miguel had already taken care of your job at working, planting you right next to him.

Worked out since he took over his father's company and became CEO. You were now his secretary, which was why he came over to help you with bills. Miguel was going to show you that you didn't need to worry about them anymore once he pays them off for you.

"Hm? And what's this?" Miguel whispered, spotting your panties, "I thought we were going to work on your bills?"

"W-We are! This...This is just, um, motivation?"

"Just for me?" Miguel whispered once more, getting horny at the thought of you needing him.

"Y-Yes," You breathed out, feeling his hands roam your body.

"My good girl,"

That night, you weren't focusing on bills. Miguel had you pinned to the bed, pounding the life out of your cunt. You were a moaning mess, crying out his name while he filled you repeatedly. Once he was done abusing your poor pussy, Miguel started to take care of your bills.

"Mhm," You muffled lowly in your sleep.

Miguel shushed you, holding your hips up to keep his cum inside you. Miguel wanted you to have his child, it was the best way to keep you with him. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as his dick harden at the thought of you pregnant with his kid.

"Oh, amor, I don't think you're quite full yet."

---------

You whimpered lowly as you buried your face into the pillow, moaning as Miguel thrusted his dick into your pussy. He had been going nonstop since you officially moved in with him. You could hardly feel your legs anymore. Miguel was the only holding you up.

"I can't hear you, (Y/N), I need you to speak up." Miguel teased as he slapped his hips into you rougher.

"M-Mig...mhm~ I...ah~...s'much~" You cried out, cumming hard against his dick.

"But this is your welcome home present. Gotta make you into a mother, no?" Miguel groaned your pussy squeezed and clenched his dick, "Doesn't my dick feel right at home in you? Don't you want me to give you a baby?"

"Y-Yes~ Mhpm~" You gripped the bedsheets, your mind growing hazy.

"That's right, (Y/N), you moved in with me because I'm all you have. I'm all you ever need."

Miguel chuckled as he gave you another fill of his cum. Pulling out, he watched you pant heavily for air, on the verge of passing out. Once again, he lifted your hips, wanting to keep his cum inside you. His eyes sparkled as you mumbled his name.

"Such a good girl,"

Miguel had successfully stolen your life for his own. You now only relied on him, trusted him and believed him. You stayed at home, helping Miguel with mission reports so you wouldn't get bored. You broke all contact with anyone, but Miguel.

You were his.

---------

"Miguel, c-can't this...wait until later? I...I have to make dinner," You said with a soft whine.

"You're doing such a good job, just stay still for another few minutes," Miguel hummed.

You were currently sitting on Miguel's dick, cockwarming him as he did some work for both Alchemax and the Spider Society. It had been two years since you started living with Miguel, and you could not regret a thing.

Miguel was your everything. He took care of you and your son. Miguel made sure to take you out to places and give you what you wanted, as long as you stayed home and be his good little wife.

"Miggy~" You whimpered into his ear, trying to get any sort of friction. Miguel held you in place,

"Shh, if we wanna give our a son a sibling, you have to be patient." Miguel chuckled.

"Mhm~"

You folded easily. Miguel was such a smooth talker. After another few minutes, you whimpered again, nearly drooling from the teasing. Miguel finally gave you what you wanted and thrusted into you, enjoying your pornographic moans and cries.

"Good girl, who do you belong to again?"

"Y-You,"

"That's right. You belong to me now and-"

FOREVER

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Waaaah, I hoped you liked this! I will be doing an official Yandere!Miguel series eventually (just has to win the poll) after I finish the Mafia!Miguel series!!

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse

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magical-reid · 25 days ago

Text

A Little Something Extra

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.1K

Prompt 22: “You brought me breakfast?” “Well you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

______________________________________________________________

It was another early morning in the BAU office, and the quiet buzz of activity filled the room. The coffee machine was working overtime, and the low hum of computers was accompanied by the soft shuffle of paperwork being passed around. In you usual spot near the windows, you were hunched over a stack of files, trying to make sense of the case that had been keeping you up for the last few days. There were too many details to sift through, and your brain felt like it was running on fumes.

You had told yourself that today would be different. You promised you'd take better care of yourself. You'd eat breakfast, take breaks, and not let the case consume you. But here you were, the morning slipping by, and you hadn’t had more than a few sips of cold coffee.

The sudden, unexpected sound of footsteps brought you back to the present. Looking up from your paperwork, you were met with a familiar face—Spencer Reid, looking more put-together than usual. He was carrying a tray with a bagel, fresh fruit, and a coffee cup with your name on it, balancing everything with an almost comical level of concentration.

You blinked, slightly confused. “You brought me breakfast?”

Spencer smiled sheepishly as he set the tray down on the corner of your desk. He’d already taken the time to carefully arrange everything as if he knew exactly what you liked. “Well, you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

You leaned back in your chair, surprised at the thoughtful gesture. Spencer wasn’t exactly known for being overtly expressive with his feelings, but every now and then, he'd do something that made you realize just how much he paid attention to the little things.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow. “You remembered that?”

Spencer's smile widened a little, but there was a trace of that characteristic nervousness in his eyes. “Of course. You’ve mentioned it a few times. And, well, I know how important it is to stay fueled, especially when we're dealing with, you know... all this.” He gestured to the mountain of case files on your desk.

You stared at him for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flip. How did he always manage to do this? The little things, the quiet ways he showed that he cared—they added up. They meant more than you could say. You took a deep breath and smiled, your voice softening. “That’s really sweet of you, Spencer. Thank you.”

He looked slightly embarrassed now, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the tray as he cleared his throat. “I just thought... maybe you’d be able to concentrate better if you ate something. You know, breakfast helps with focus and energy levels, and I—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, reaching for the bagel and pulling off a piece. “Spencer, I’m sure you know all the scientific reasons why breakfast is important, but honestly, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m just... kind of terrible about remembering to eat.”

He shrugged, but his expression was still warm. “It’s no trouble. I know how intense these cases can get, and sometimes you forget to take care of yourself when you’re too focused on the work. I thought this might help.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mixture of appreciation and affection. “It definitely helps,” you said, taking another bite of the bagel. “And I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Spencer smiled, looking slightly less nervous now as if relieved that you weren’t going to make it awkward. He adjusted his glasses and stood back, a little uncomfortable but trying his best not to show it. “Well, I’ll leave you to your paperwork. I just wanted to make sure you were eating.”

Before he could turn to go, you quickly reached for the coffee cup he’d brought and held it out toward him. “Hey, would you like to sit for a second?” you asked, your voice soft, the invitation clear. “I don’t mind the company.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered to the seat across from you, then back to you, surprised. “Oh... I mean, I’d love to, but I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

You waved him off, smiling. “I’m already behind, but a break wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you brought me breakfast. The least I can do is share a few minutes with you.”

Spencer seemed a little flustered but pleased. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, taking a moment to adjust his posture, as though he were preparing for some deep conversation. When he spoke again, it was in his usual, thoughtful tone.

“So... how’s the paperwork going?”

You gave a small sigh, rubbing your eyes. “It’s slow going. We have a lot of details to connect, but I’m still trying to make sense of the pattern.”

He nodded, immediately falling into his element, discussing the finer details of the case with ease. His deep knowledge and sharp mind were always a comfort, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the quiet way he always made you feel heard, understood.

As you listened, nibbling on your breakfast and sipping the coffee he’d thoughtfully brought, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Spencer was always a little awkward in his own way, but the way he cared—it was something you couldn’t ignore. The small gestures, the careful consideration, the fact that he’d remembered something as simple as your bad habit of skipping meals... It meant more than you could express.

“So, you know,” you said, breaking into his focused chatter, “I’m actually really glad you brought me breakfast. It’s like... the perfect little reminder to take care of myself.”

Spencer blinked, then paused mid-sentence, his cheeks flushing a little. “Well, you should... you deserve to be taken care of,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, but there was a sincerity in it that made your heart flutter.

You looked at him, your gaze softening. “Thank you, Spencer. You always know just what I need.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile in response, but there was something in the way he looked at you—a flicker of something more, something deeper.

You knew that, for all his brilliance, Spencer had always been a bit of a mystery when it came to feelings. But in this moment, as you shared breakfast together, you didn’t need any more words to understand. He cared. And that meant everything.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x yn #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #magical-Reid #requested

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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TAKE CARE OF YOU [3]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,501

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: I'm feeling Fridays for the update day, but i'm not married to that idea yet. also thank you for all the love this has seen so far!! I am so happy to know I'm not the only one that would sell my soul to have Joel Miller as my sugar daddy.]

03: YOU THINK MY VOICE IS PRETTY?

"the way his voice sounds, or the words he speaks, i can never decide what pulls me in more." -butterflies rising

‘Morning, sugar’.

You chuckled at the term of endearment and leaned back in your seat. The other people on the bus surrounding you were living their own lives as always. You recognized many of your routine bus neighbors. The woman who ate an onion bagel every single morning on her way to work, the man who still read an actual newspaper rather than use his phone, the brother and sister duo⏤only teens⏤ on their way to school. You wondered how these people classified you in their head.

‘Morning to you too⏤’ You paused. Should you call him ‘daddy’ again? Saying it teasingly was one thing, but typing it somehow made it seem more permanent. Which was a stupid thought to have, but it was the one that plagued you nonetheless. You deleted your words and started again. ‘Morning! How⏤’ Again, you froze. Was the exclamation mark too much for this early in the morning? It was only yesterday that you made this deal with him and it would be sad for you to annoy him so early in the deal. Delete. Repeat. ‘Joel⏤’ Way too formal. Okay. You were officially over thinking this.

‘Hey! How’s your morning going?’

The moment you hit send that dumb little anxiety riddled voice at the back of your head tried to criticize your choice of words and you had to wrestle it back down. Almost immediately you saw the text bubble of dots pop up as he typed.

‘Great. First meeting got canceled. You?’

It was marginally funny to you that the man who owned this huge company seemed so dead set on avoiding meetings. Plus, it was kind of cute that he was more comfortable in flannel than suits.

‘Just on the bus heading to work!’

The text bubble popped up immediately, then disappeared, then came back, then disappeared once more. As you waited for it to return, his name filled the entire screen as he called you. Your eyes widened in surprise. After getting past your shock, you answered, “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry, repeat that for me.” Joel’s voice was nearly drowned out by a bunch of noise that you’d have to guess dealt with some kind of construction. “You’re on the ‘what’ heading ‘where’?”

“Bus? Work?” You replied in confusion.

Joel cleared his throat and he must have been moving since the noise simmered down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, darlin’. Can I ask why?” The sound that left your mouth was a good representation of your broken brain. “Because I’m pretty sure you and I made a deal yesterday. Didn’t we?”

“We did.” You said slowly. “But⏤”

“Darlin’⏤”

“In my defense, I can’t just quit work. I respect Henry too much. I have to at least give him a two weeks notice so he can find a replacement.” You argued. Even if Henry wasn’t someone you considered family you’d still feel obliged to quit the correct way. Still, maybe that was something you should’ve mentioned yesterday before the two of you parted ways. “Sorry, Joel.”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. You’re too responsible for your own good.” You chuckled. “But the bus? The bus?”

You had to resist the urge to laugh at how insulted he was at the prospect of you on public transportation. You glanced over your shoulder out the window to see how far from work you were. “Well, ubers and taxis are so expensive from my house to the bakery. Plus, I have a bus card!”

“Bus card?” Joel repeated. His incredulous voice took an amused tone. “Sugar, you got daddy’s credit card.” Your eyes widened and you felt your entire face burn as heat filled your cheeks. As if somebody would be listening in, you glanced around at the people sitting near you. Joel chuckled, the sound low and deep, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh, I⏤ That’s a good point.” You cleared your throat. “It felt silly using the card for something like an Uber or taxi though. You know?”

“Nothin’ is too silly. I want you to use that card. All the time. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I understand…” Joel repeated with enunciation at the end. Waiting for something. Waiting for…

“I’m on the bus.” You whispered into the phone, in shock, while covering your mouth.

Joel hummed. “Oh, I know. Now. I understand…”

You chewed on your lower lip, glanced around, then whispered into the phone quickly, “I understand, daddy.”

“Sorry, sugar. Couldn’t quite hear you there. Must be because of how loud and hectic that bus is.”

Your lips curled up into a broad grin as your face continued to burn. He cleared his throat to urge you on, and you shook your head with a slight chuckle. You blew out an amused breath and repeated yourself. “Yes. I understand, daddy.”

An older woman sitting to your left shot you a curious glance and you sunk in your seat, and turned toward the window to laugh. You could hear Joel’s breathy laugh over the line as well. Joel spoke up, “That’s better. As for this transport problem,” You rolled your eyes still grinning, “Can you drive?”

“Well, yeah.” You replied and the smile fell as a thought occurred to you. “That is not a reason to buy me a car.”

“Wow, you really think I’d buy you a car right out the gate like that?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I⏤” You paused then shook your head. “Wait, no, actually I do. I do think you’d do that.”

“You’re right. I would. You got a preference, sugar?”

“Please do not buy me a car.” You blurted. “I… I really don’t like driving around this city. Last time I even got behind a wheel was over two years ago.”

“Fine. No car. I’m gettin’ you a driver then.”

“That still feels excessive.” You replied hesitantly.

“Do it for me then? I’d feel more comfortable knowin’ you’re not ridin’ around with strangers.”

The words were spoken with kindness, actual concern, and a part of you wondered if he was saying what he was because it was expected of him? The deal was for him to take care of you and keeping you safe could arguably fall under that umbrella of responsibilities. You just found it hard to believe he’d care out of the goodness of his heart considering how little time you had spent with one another thus far. It wasn’t a criticism of him at all. Maybe he was just that kind deep down, maybe he did have a bleeding heart. It was the process of trying to apply that thought, those concerns, to yourself that felt silly. At the end of the day, that voice of anxiety just couldn’t fathom a near stranger actually worrying over your well being with no ulterior motive of their own.

Joel said your name over the line, snapping you out of your line of thought, and you forced your smile to return. It wasn’t hard to find. “Alright. For you.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath of what almost sounded like relief. “What time does your shift end?”

“It’s Sunday so I usually close up the shop around 5:30, then pack away all the leftovers to take to the shelter a few blocks away.” You replied. Anytime the shop had any leftovers, which was happening more and more, Henry would donate the goods to the local shelters and kitchens rather than toss it.

“I’ll have my guy there around 5 then. I don’t want you waitin’ on him.”

“Yeah, but now he’ll have to wait on me.”

“I know. That’s the point, darlin’.”

You couldn’t decide which you liked more. Joel calling you ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’. Then again the sound of your name was equally as intoxicating. Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good his voice sounded in general. The bus peeled off to the side to come to a stop and you hiked your bag up your shoulder to get off.

“I’m at my stop.”

“Say good-bye to the bus. You ain’t ridin’ on it again as far as I’m concerned.” You chuckled and as you walked off you couldn’t help but glanced back at the familiar people you had gotten used to seeing so often. You mentally wished them a farewell. It was cheesy, but it nearly felt like the end of an era. Joel spoke again as you stepped onto the busy sidewalk. “And remember, my guy is pickin’ you up today. No ubers. No taxis. No buses.”

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t make a run for it.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and your face immediately went warm once more. A habit you were beginning to pick up around this man. Joel said quick good-byes, saying he needed to help someone out on site and promised to text you later. You echoed his sentiments and tucked the phone away after hanging up. Wow, okay, it seemed hearing him call you ‘good girl’ won in a fucking landslide.

As it turned out, Henry had come in early to bake for the day, but left it open for you to set out as he hadn’t been feeling well and had to leave before you even got the shop fully open. It was incredibly poor timing because you planned to announce your two week’s notice to him and that seemed like a dick move to do while he was sick. Tomorrow. You’d try again tomorrow. No big deal. What would a one day difference make?

The bakery always had it’s busiest days on Sunday, weirdly, but still it was nowhere near the kind of traffic this place truly needed. Usually days where it ended up being you alone were even more painfully boring, but today had been, well, fun. Joel continued to text you through the day and the conversation was a decent distraction from the dichotomy of doing nothing between customers. Plus, without Henry there, you didn’t even have to pretend like you weren’t playing on your phone the entire time.

The last hour of your shift had gone by without Joel as a distraction because of a meeting. One he had grumbled about twenty minutes prior to it. You were in the process of packing items away when you noticed a black SUV sitting outside on the side of the road. Pausing in your work, you ran your hand down your apron and made your way out of the shop and toward it. You had just planned to tap on the window to get his attention, but you were barely halfway to the SUV when the man behind the driver’s seat jumped out and hurried around with a nod.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi.” You gave a small wave. “I’m⏤”

The blond man blurted your name out with a nod. Of course he knew who you were. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss?”

“No, no. I wanted to invite you in! It’ll be a minute before I’m done.”

“It’s alright⏤”

“I insist.” You said firmly. He hesitated once more before going to turn the car off. He was older than you, if you had to guess, and he wore a clean, black suit and a pair of dark aviators over his eyes. If he had a little radio in his ear you’d have him pegged as some kind of secret service guard. “What’s your name?”

“Riley Talbot, ma’am.”

You motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables with a smile. “Well, Mr. Talbot, you have a muffin preference?”

“Just Riley is fine, and you don’t have to⏤”

“Either you tell me your muffin preference or I’m gonna pick at random, Riley.” You replied then ran through the options you had today. Riley hesitantly told you his preference for the banana nut option and you brought it over for him on a small plate. The man took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his inner suit pocket, and you took note of his very blue eyes. “How long have you worked for, Joel?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been working for Mr. Miller for the last five years.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Five years as a driver for Joel? You couldn’t imagine Joel using a driver. The man who preferred flannels over suits seemed like the kind who was adamant about driving himself. Plus, this wasn’t the person who had picked you up yesterday. How many did he have?

“Well, give me a second here and we can head out. I just gotta finish packing up today’s leftovers.”

“Please, take your time.” Riley nodded then motioned to the muffin. “And thank you.”

You left him to enjoy his snack in peace so you could go back to cleaning out the display stand. It was repetitive, simple work that you had gotten very used to doing mindlessly over the years. You were on the last row of cookies when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Pulling it out you saw it was a text from Joel.

‘Did Riley show up?’

‘Yupp. He’s in the bakery eating a muffin right now.’

‘You didn’t need to feed him, sugar.’

‘Too late. Besides, that’s one less muffin for me to carry now.’

‘Put it on my tab.’

You rolled your eyes, as if a singular banana nut muffin was of significant cost, ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your meeting?’

There was a longer pause before you got a response.

‘Touche’

You chuckled under your breath and tucked the phone away once more. After stacking a few of the boxes on top of one another, you shrugged out of your apron to hang it back up on the wall. Riley had risen from his seat and you took the plate from him before he could argue otherwise. You gave it a quick wash before setting it away to dry for the night and when you returned Riley was still standing by the boxes of baked goods.

“I’m almost done. I’m gonna carry these down to the shelter.”

“I’ll help.” Riley replied.

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

Riley gave you a friendly smile. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Miller was adamant about me helping out where I could.”

Knowing arguing was only going to stretch this process out you nodded and he took half the boxes. At least this would save you a second trip. As the two of you made your way down the street you learned that he was older than you, in his mid thirties, and he had been in the Marines before picking up work with Joel. It was actually through Riley that you learned Joel had a brother who had also been in the military as well. You’d have to ask him about that.

“I’ve been saving to buy a ring.” Riley shrugged as you both got onto the topic of relationships while on your way back from dropping off the boxes.

“If your girlfriend is as sweet as you claim I’m sure she’d be charmed by anything you got her.” You argued. “And how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Three years next month.”

“Aw, congrats!” You chirped.

Riley continued to gush about his girlfriend and how she worked as a kindergarten teacher. The way his voice held so much love for the woman he bragged about to you made your heart ache. You had always thought this was how your last relationship would look like. You and your ex-boyfriend had been on a similar path after all. When he broke up with you six months ago, the two of you had been weeks away from your three year anniversary. For the longest time, he had been the one you thought you’d be marrying.

And here you were today with a sugar daddy on speed dial.

Funny how life worked.

“Let me grab my stuff and lock up and I’ll be right back out.” You said and Riley agreed with a nod before heading to the SUV himself. Maybe you’d text Nima and see if she was busy tonight. It had been a long time since you thought about your ex and letting him slip back into your head had been a dumb move on your part.

Once out, Riley held the back door of the SUV open for you to slide into. He asked for your address which you provided before settling back in your seat. The radio played a soft tune, you couldn’t hear the roaring of the roads outside, the air smelled clean, and you had ample space to stretch out. This was a far cry from the bus. Nima texted you back, answering your request for drinks tonight, but she had to turn it down because she had a date. Though she did follow it up to ask if you were feeling well and that she’d bail if you needed a girls’ night. You smiled at her words, but reassured her that everything was fine.

‘Hang out with your daddy! 🤪’

Despite the teasing nature of her text, she may have been onto something. Riley was getting closer to your apartment complex and you leaned forward a bit. “Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what time Joel usually gets off of work?”

“It depends. I think he mentioned today he was gonna be working late. That’s why he sent me instead of coming to get you himself.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It hadn’t dawned on you that Joel wanted to be the one to pick you up and just hadn’t been able to due to his own work. Still, that shot your back up plan in the face. That was probably for the best. You didn’t want to come across as clingy. Though, maybe you were supposed to? Joel said there was no social quota for you to meet, but you doubted the validity of that.

“Thanks, Riley!” You said after exchanging numbers with him and climbing out of the SUV.

Your apartment was nothing to write home about, but it could be worse. It was a simple one bed, one bath on the fifth floor of a complex that had technically seen better days. However, despite the age and general weariness of the building itself, the residents you lived beside were nice, the owner actually cared about the people renting from him, and security was decent. More so than the other places in this area.

After dropping your stuff down and tossing your keys into the bowl near your front door, you pulled out your phone to see you had missed a text from a few minutes ago. ‘You home?’ Quickly, you responded with a positive and thanked him again for sending Riley to pick you up. ‘Good. Don’t thank me, sugar’.

You rolled your eyes. If he really thought you were going to accept things without thanking him he was dead wrong. Hell, you were struggling with the ‘accepting things’ part which was hilarious considering you had chosen and agreed to this deal with full knowledge of what that meant. You set down your phone to clean the work day off of your skin.

A few hours had passed, where you showered, changed into home clothes, ate, and then settled on the couch with a large glass of wine. Despite it only being close to nine you were almost considering chugging the remainder of the wine in your glass and calling it a night. You had work in the morning after all. As you brought the glass to your lips, your phone buzzed off to the side.

The text was from Joel. It was simple, and honestly hilarious to see.

‘You up?’

Your cheeks warmed and you wondered if he knew the connotations of texting a woman that message with no warning at night.

‘Yes lol I am up’

‘Can I call?’

Your eyes widened in surprise at the request. You took another rather large sip of your wine before setting it down on your coffee table and responding to him. The affirmative text hadn’t been sent longer than a few seconds when his name flashed across your screen. You had gotten used to mostly texting the people in your life rather than phone calls. This would take some getting used to.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.” Joel breathed. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s hardly late.” You glanced at your clock on the wall. 9:07. “Are you just getting home from work? Riley said you’d be stuck there late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Every once in a while I’m stuck in the office all day like this. At least I got to be on site this mornin’.” He groaned.

It sounded like he was pouring something on his end of the line. You commented on it, “Are you making yourself a drink?”

“Mhmm.” Joel took a sip of whatever it was he had poured, you could hear him swallow and made your throat dry up. “That alright?”

“Hey, I’m on my second glass of wine so I can hardly judge.”

“Second? You have a long day, sugar?” He asked in concern. Again, the sound of it caught you off guard. You could count on one hand the number of people who showed you genuine concern in the last two years. “Everythin’ okay?”

You forced out a chuckle and nodded despite him not being able to see it. “I’m fine.” It was probably a little early to be flooding him with your problems and the history of your ex. Instead, you jumped over it entirely. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner or drinks, but when I asked Riley what time you got off he said you’d be working late.”

“What?” Joel asked in surprise. He grumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Don’t ever let that stop you, darlin’. I always got time for you. Honestly, it would've been a nice surprise and a good excuse to leave early.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better.” Joel grunted as he dropped down into a seat. Another tired sigh left his lips and you opened your mouth to suggest that he get some rest, but he beat you to speaking. “Tell me about your day, sugar.”

“It was pretty boring.” You replied. “You’ve seen how empty the bakery tends to get.”

“So? I still wanna hear. Talk about somethin’ at least. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You grinned to yourself. “You think my voice is pretty?”

“I think everythin’ about you is pretty. Now, no more stallin’. Hit me with it.”

If he wanted to hear about your boring day you’d be more than happy to indulge him. His words still caught you off guard though. He liked your voice? It was extra funny considering how much you liked his voice personally. You talked about the few customers you did have today, how thankful the shelter had been for Henry’s leftovers, and getting to know Riley.

“Yeah, Riley is a good guy.” Joel agreed. “Figured the two of you would get along. Plus,” He took another sip of the whiskey he had told you he chose as his drink earlier, “I know he’s head over heels for that girl of his so I didn’ have to worry about him makin’ a move on you.” You laughed at the sentiment and Joel let out a small chuckle himself. “I ain’t kiddin’, sugar. I only just got you to agree to put up with me. I ain’t plannin’ on losing you quite yet.”

“Put up with you.” You scoffed. “As if I don’t equally enjoy talking to you.”

Joel chuckled in response then cleared his throat. “How’d it go with your boss? How’d he take the news?” Your smile turned sheepish and rather than answer you picked up your wine glass, now at the end of your third, and took a long sip. Joel sighed. “Sugar?”

“Okay, so, hold on.” You blurted. “He was sick today. Henry left like right after coming in to help me open and I didn’t wanna spring the news on him when he already felt so terrible.” You set the wine glass down then buried yourself into the couch under your blanket. “I’m already worried I’m gonna break his heart.” Joel blew out a sigh and you winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t.” Joel responded, but it wasn’t sharp or demanding. He just didn’t want to hear you apologize. “I want you to stop workin’ because I think you’d be happier out of that place, but I’m not tryin’ to shove you into quittin’ if you ain’t comfortable with it yet, darlin’. If…” Joel paused. “If you think you need to stay there a little while longer then I’m not gonna guilt you otherwise.”

His words made your lips curl up into a small, soft smile. It wasn’t that you loved your work there by any means, but you did love Henry. He was family. Plus, that small voice of anxiety was still nagging loud enough that you couldn’t quite fully ignore it. This was still so new. What if Joel got to the end of this week and decided you were more annoying than entertaining. You couldn’t just tear up your roots with no guarantee that this life was fully concrete.

You didn’t know if Joel understood that from the same angle you did, but you did appreciate that he was willing to bend on that topic. “Yeah.” You said quietly then added in a teasing inflection added, “Thanks, daddy.”

Joel chuckled in response, “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

You remembered a topic you had planned on asking him earlier in the day, and maybe it was the three glasses of wine that had loosened your tongue, but you blurted it out without thinking. “So, hey, I hear you have a brother?” Joel was quiet for a beat and it was only then that sober logic regained control. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to blurt it out like that. Riley mentioned he was in the military and that you had a brother who was too. I didn't mean to pick at a sore topic if⏤”

“No, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Not a sore topic. Just caught me off guard is all. But, yeah, I got a baby brother. Tommy.” Tommy Miller. You tucked the information away in the folder of facts you were learning about Joel. “He was in the Army for a while, but left a long time ago. He actually works with me now at the company. Was with me when we went from small time contractors to whatever the hell we are now.”

“Big deals.” You joked. “If your fancy building is anything to go by.”

“Guess so by someone’s definition.” Joel snorted. You liked that he still felt so grounded and to the earth. It had been part of the reason his proposition caught you off guard because after meeting him you never would’ve suspected him to be the kind who owned a large and very rich company.

“You’re not mad that Riley told me that, are you?” You asked. “Because if you are, I'll admit to wrestling the information out of him.”

Joel laughed. “I ain’t mad, darlin’. Like I said, I’m glad the two of you get along. You’re stuck with him now.” You hummed in confusion and Joel added. “He’s your driver. Anywhere you need to go, any time, just call him.”

“Wait, seriously?” You cried.

“I told you I ain’t letting you get on a bus again.” Joel replied like he was still appalled you had done so this morning. “And since you won’t let me buy you a car…”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You blurted and he let out a soft laugh. A beat of silence stretched between the two of you, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where you just enjoyed knowing he was on the other end of the call even if he wasn’t actively speaking.

You accidentally let out a small yawn and Joel hummed. “You need to get to bed.”

“Nuh uh.” You replied. “It’s only…” You found the clock and your eyes widened. 12:01. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’ve kept you up long enough, sugar.”

“I’m not even tired.” You whined and rose to your feet. The stiff movements made you realize how close you had been to just passing out on the couch.

“Sure, you ain’t.”

You meandered to your bedroom, flipping out lights as you went, and shut your bedroom door. “Will we talk again tomorrow?”

“You mean later today?” Joel joked.

You chuckled. “Yes.” It didn’t even matter to you that you may have sounded needy. Being on the phone had not only been fun, but it had been just what you needed to settle the turmoil you had accidentally scourged up earlier. “So?”

“Course, sugar. I’ll text you on your way to work. Riley’ll be there at 6:30 to pick you up.”

“Alright. Night, Joel.” You replied sincerely. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Joel hummed and you could hear him moving around on his end as well. “Should be thanking you.” He added quickly, a tinge or nervousness seeping into his voice. “Hey, do you wanna, uh, you wanna plan for dinner?” Your eyes widened marginally but your lips spread out into another warm and wide grin. “I got a few more busy days, but this Wednesday I’ll be free all evening. Wanna make a night of it?”

“Yes!” You answered much faster than you had initially planned. There went being cool and collected. Joel chuckled. “I mean, yeah. That would be⏤ That would be fun.”

“Good. Get some sleep, sugar.” Joel replied. You wished him well before the call ended and you were left standing in your bedroom feeling like you were on cloud nine.

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #modern au #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #reader insert #female reader

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