#id love to hear others thoughts on the matter (as long as it's respectful)

[sukibenders]

"Why did they make Michael into Michaela? They took away one of the hottest men in Bridgeton now!" Okay, now it's one of the hottest women in the show. What's the issue now? Still got Francesca and Michael, in a way.

"Francesca's infertility plotline is ruined now! It was so important in the books!" Why can't she still have this particular plot, while still being with Michaela? Why is that suddenly erased now that Michael is a woman? Do you not believe that sapphic woman can't also struggle with infertility? There are multiple ways that the show can still incorporate this.

"Why are they making everyone gay now? It was fine when it was just Benedict but now-" I'm going to stop you right there. What's wrong with having more than one queer character? There are multiple straight people in the show, and in most forms of media, but you draw the line at having more than one gay/queer person? Imagine what it's like for other queer people to not be represented or to only have that one person be a vessel for the entire community. Doesn't sound very fair right? Another thing, because I see a lot of people who say this call themselves "allies", it doesn't sound very supportive when you say things like this. It doesn't instill confidence in your support for the queer community when you can't even fathom the possibility of more than one queer person on your screen without complaint. It's okay to be a little bummed out about the change, but to use rhetoric like above feels very...it leaves a sour taste in the mouth personally.

[justchelleing]

Hello!! For the 100+ follower request

Id like to request cloud 9 (1) Chuuya and romantic if possible

Congratulations on over 100 followers <3

Cloud 9

Pairing: Chūya Nakahara x Fem! Reader

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread

Synopsis: Chūya Nakahara grew to love his assistant just like how she turned out to loved him.

A/n: I'm feeling pretty useless and a bit suicidal right now :) semester starts on the 1st day of August so I'll be pretty busy after that. I am sorry if this isn't what you looked for..

Was in my drafts for who knows how long because Tumblr had an error and my drafts wouldn't save...

Event // PM.Masterlist // M.Masterlist

The five tall buildings in the center of Yokohama casted a shadow on the moonlit streets. It was the buildings owned by Mori corporation and where the rulers of the night lies, you are not foreign to them just as they are to you. The automatic door opened and you walked in, a few members showed respect by greetings and you did so too. Your black boots hit the tiled floor while walking towards the elevators, putting in the floor number, you took your phone out of your pocket and dialed a number. The phone in your hand slowly rang, and the elevator closed.

"Sir?" You called his name and could hear his slurs on the other line.

"(name).?" Oh how you loved to hear his voice, hearing your name slip out of his lips made your heart falter.

"Sir, pardon me but where exactly are you?" You tried fo gain back your composure. "Thank heavens he can't see my face right now" you thought to yourself, feeling hot in your face.

"I'm here at a bar, why?" He muttered between hiccups.

"The boss sent me a message to inform you about a sudden meeting. Osam-I mean the former executive Dazai Osamu is held captive in the dungeon, his execution is already on date" the elevator rang and opened, stepping out, you headed to your office; while he continued to listen.

You could feel his anger from the other line while he gritted his teeth upon hearing his former partner's name. You stopped by your office and grabbed a document before closing the door, releasing a thud.

"When's the meeting?" He asked, it seemed as if he really was sober now.

"About three days from now, but it's preferable for you to return the day after tomorrow. After all you do have some matters to attend to in Yokohama, boss said that he'll call you later" You entered the elevator once again and waited for his response.

"I'll return be there tomorrow, answer me if I call alright?"

"Yes sir, good night" You hung up, putting your phone on the pocket of your overcoat. Leaning on the elevator wall, you blushed. Excitement is an understatement of how you felt right now; you could finally see him after a few weeks during his trip overseas.

You put your hand over your chest and began to feel your rapid heartbeat.

"This is wrong.. I'm his secretary and he's my boss, nothing more.. nothing less.. a professional relationship" You struggled as you said the last words, and before you knew it you reached the dungeon.

Clenching the document in hand, you walked down the stairs, the smell of of blood reeking on the air. Your eyes fell to the captive, his arms hanging on the wall and wrists bounded in chains.

"How much do you plan to risk your life , Dazai?" You asked his 'asleep' form, walking near him you noticed the slight twitch on his finger before gently slapping his cheek.

"That really hurt" he opened his eyes to your form.

"Good." You rolled your eyes before brushing away the strand of hair on his face.

"You're so cruel... You do know that you'll be a traitor if you helped me"

"I know." You let out a breathless sigh before removing the bobby pin on his hair and handed it to his hand.

"Reach for my right pocket." His tone of voice was demanding but nonetheless you did what he asked.

"What's this.?" It was a bracelet, it had a flower pattern with a few glass-like-jewels was on top and in the color of gold, on the back it had his and your small initials written on it; as if to prove you it wasn't stolen.

"A bracelet duh!"

"No I mean why.?"

"I missed your birthday for four years didn't I?" He softly smirked before you lightly punched his shoulder.

"...you still owe me three gifts." You muttered before putting the bracelet in the pocket of your overcoat.

"Yeah.."

Silence engulfed the room before she decided to break it.

"Get your stupid ass ready, Akutagawa will beat you up for tomorrow once he knows that you're held captive. You have only tomorrow before that tiger gets captured" You turned around to the stairs after picking the lock of the chains on his feet.

"Ouch. So Akutagawa will come here after capturing Atsushi-kun huh." It was more like a confirmation than a question but yi still answered.

"Yes if that tiger's name is Atsushi"

"Hmm.. But how did you know I'll be here?" He smirked and you continued to go up the stairs.

"Because I know you" You said before you slowly fading into the distance.

"Thanks (name)"

You left the dungeon, went back to her office, and left your overcoat on the couch. Locking the door, you flopped onto your chair and started your computer, you typed and typed, before you knew it; it was already morning. Glancing at the bracelet, it shone while it was hit with the bright sun, then you decided to put it on. Your phone suddenly started to ring just in sync when you slid your arms on your overcoat. Looking at the contact caller, your heart skipped a beat.

"Sir.?"

"I'm going to arrive at the airport soon. Be there with the files" He ordered, his tone of voice was hoarse and demanding.

"Yes." You slightly nodded as if he could see you. With that he hung up, and you sighed. For you that call was more like a reminder that you are nothing but his assistant even if he never knew of your lingering feelings; but it won't make any changes. You left the building and went in your car, driving to the airport.

Chūya's POV

He hung up and his phone dropped to his lap. He heavenly exhaled and looked to the window, as if to hide the blush that crept up to his cheeks.

"How nice it is to hear her voice.." He thought to himself, he felt like pulling his hair out at how stupid he felt for extending his trip to not see her. How foolish he really was..

Ever since he met her a few years back, he grew to love her. He was enchanted by her intelligence, her beauty, her fierce nature, he loved everything about her. He was overcome with excitement when he finally became an executive because it meaned that she could be his assistant, and he would able to see her everyday. That was when he noticed that it was love...

Upon hearing her voice, he wanted to get drunk on it. He wanted to wake up with her beside, while shuffling through her hair just as she did back then to his former partner. He liked her and it was only an understatement, he wants to give her the world and everything she wants.. and now he could finally have his chance to finally do so.

He glances at the small blue box with a ribbon above it. It was a bracelet, one that was a souvenir from his trip, and a gift to you; his only hope for you to accept it along with his feelings.

~Time Skip~

You sat on a small bench and waited for Chūya. You tried to read a book but you couldn't focus because of how fast your heart was beating. No matter how you tried you couldn't get over him, flipping the page to a new chapter, you heard someone call out your name from behind. Looking over the bench, you could see your boss just behind you.

"Ah! Sir" You bowed lightly before continuing to apologize frantically. Ignoring your rambles, his eyes found it's way to your right wrist, and four capitalized letters shone and his eyebrows furrowed upon seeing what it was. 'D.O' and your initials.

"Sir.?" You asked him snapping out of his trance.

"hmm.? Do you need something?" He smiled at you, trying to hide the anger that built up when he realized whose initials those were.

"Uh. No.. I'm just asking if you want to go now" You fiddled with your fingers at the awkwardness.

"Then let's go." He tried his best not to sound angry but it came out more demanding and rude. He internally scolded himself at his pathetic attempt at covering it up, it was likely that you got upset by his actions. You laid your head down before fully responding with a quiet whisper.

"...yes"

The drive was quiet, you were focused on driving and he was looking out the window. You gave him quick glances using the mirror, his features is completely visible to you by such angle, the sunlight hit his ginger hair, it was a sight to behold. Looking away, you could feel your heart skip beats as you turned your focus back on the road. Just then, a pair of ocean eyes landed on you. He couldn't help but clench his fists tight when the bracelet was hit by the sunlight, making it shine. When he was about to look away, his eyes met your by the mirror.

"Do you need something sir?" You turned your eyes on the road, hoping he wouldn't see you blushing.

"Ehem. Yes.. I have a question for you." He tried to look away to hide his red cheeks.

"Ask ahead, sir"

"Why do you still call me by 'sir' and not by my surname or first name?" Truth be told, that was a question that lingered in his mind ever since he left for the trip. "and why do you call that bastard by his first name?" A question that he could never ask you since it may make you think that he was weird for trying to interfere with your personal life.

"I-its only proper for me to call you that since you're my superior" You tried your best to smile but to be honest you wanted to call his name in a honey-like tone, not that you knew he wanted to do the same.

"You've known me ever since I joined the mafia; besides, I call you by your first name for a while now and it's only fair for you to do the same" He nonchalantly explained, trying his best to convince you.

"Okay.. Chūya-san" Your voice was quiet and meek but enough for him to hear. His eyes lightened up before he cleared his voice and looked away.

"Just don't call me sir anymore. It's awkward" He tried to hide the smile that unconsciously crept up his lips, crossing his arms and legs he looked at you.

The drive was silent once again before you lightly chuckled at his reaction, the car was stopped with the heavy traffic, and you turned around to face him.

"I'll keep that in mind Chūya-kun" You smiled at him, your hair fluttering as you turned around. He blushed and muttered a small "whatever" before looking away again, his mind painted with the scene that happened moments ago.

Your mind was flooded with thoughts before you snapped out of it when you heard the traffic lights buzz.

"Oh! Also here" You reached for some files on the car's compartment and handed it to him. "It's a brief review of what you missed and some missions that the boss plans to send you to" You went back to driving after he took the files in your hand.

"Mhm" His expression changed and he looked more serious just as he looked at the files.

After that nobody spoke a single word. You drove to the mafia while he flipped through the documents. The silent breathing from you and the heavy exhales from Chūya is the only sound heard in the car, except the rustling of paper. You broke the silent by muttering a small "We're here" just in sync of you hitting the brakes. The car door released a small click when you opened it, you were about to step out until you felt a gloved hand pull you back.

"Chūya-san?" You stared at him with widened eyes before he let go of you and cleared his voice.

"Ehem! Here! I bought it because it reminded me of you" He reached for his pocket and handed you a small blue box.

"A.. gift.?" Your lips parted as you stared at the box in hand.

"I know that I'm very hard to put up with as you boss, and I realized that I want to—" He struggled to finally say the last words, a scenario playing in his head where you decline his feelings and things will become awkward with you and him.

"—I just.. I want to say say that I really appreciate you hard work" He thought that he finally had the courage to say those words just as he practiced in the mirror but something different came out of his lips.

"I see thank you, Chūya-san" You faintly smiled at before you came to a realization. "We should probably go.." "ah yes.."

That was how the day ended, no important events happened afterwards. You just went and arranged some documents and he attended to the boss's needs, you forgot to open his gift.

Chūya's POV

Another day passed and I was still not able to confess to her. I couldn't get my mind off the bracelet that was on her wrist. A thought that lingered in my mind for too long was"Why did she have a bracelet with his and her initials on it?" Yet, no matter how much I thought of it, I couldn't afford to ask her that, nor to ask her to be my lover.

I woke up in my bed, looking beside me was no one but a hope that I will be able to get the answers to my thoughts and questions. My driver picked me up and I headed to the dungeon, where my former partner is held captive.

"Well isn't this a sight to see... Don't you think so, hmm... Dazai?" Chūya emerged from the shadows and slowly went down the stairs, monitoring Dazai.

"Oh. It's you."

"Hey what's that supposed to mean?! Don't forget that you're the prisoner here shitty Dazai" He pulled his hair closer to him before letting go and turning around.

"Yeah whatever. What are you doing here Chūya."

"I'm here to give you a piece of my mind!" He said before kicking the chains the dangled above his head and punching him in the gut.

"Hmm" Dazai smirked before taking out a pin.

"So you could've escaped no matter what happens huh."

"Of course! And you're not here to give me a piece of mind aren't you?" He stated before Chūya halted and furrowed eyebrows.

"What the hell are you saying-" "You're here to get answers regarding (name) aren't you?"

"What are you on-"

"You want to know why she has a bracelet with my initials don't you?" He stood silent, and Dazai began explaining.

That was the last straw for Chūya. He barged into your office without a word with clenched fists.

"Chūya-san? What are you–" You stood up with widened eyes, but before you could say anything, he pulled you in for a tight embrace.

"Damn it! I love you okay?!" He pulled away, and turned to look at you with determined eyes. You stood still, not processing the words he said. The atmosphere became tense, he wondered if it really was right that he confessed to you, but before he would apologize and leave you blurted out something from shock.

"What. The. Fuck." You lightly slapped your cheeks and he sent you a worried look.

"Excuse me, can you say that again Chu?" The nickname made him blush but he complied nonetheless.

"I love you (name). I don't want to lose you to anybody else other than me. I want to make you the happiest woman and I-" He closed his eyes out of embarrassment but he quickly opened them as he felt your lips against his.

"If this is a dream I don't want it to end" You let out a breathless whisper.

That was the day that a love was formed. A few years passed since then. Dazai became the wingman to their relationship by planning it from the dungeon, and now it was their five year anniversary.

"Hey Chu sorry I'm late." You sat down across Chūya and he faintly smiled.

"It's fine doll. You look beautiful" He smirked before leaving his chair. His eyes fell to the bracelet that he gifted you four years ago. He unconsciously smiled, feeling proud of what he did back then. Now you were wearing a gift from him and not Dazai's, and that was enough to make him feel accomplished.

"oh. Thank you" You raised an eyebrow at what he was doing until he knelt and reached for his pocket.

"(name).. you are a blessing in my life that I thought I didn't deserve. Would you by wife and let me have the pleasure of having you in my life for the rest of my life?" He looked at you with glimmering ocean eyes.

"Chūya Nakahara.—" You said in an endearing tone.

"I feel at Cloud 9 with you, and I wish to spend my entire life with you beside me." You smiled at him before he put the ring in your finger and hugged you in a tight embrace after he kissed you.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck before whispering something that made your heart falter, "I love you—"

"I love you more" You kissed his collarbone before he pulled away and kissed the back of your hand.

"—and I will always continue to love you"

A/n: I am very sorry if that took a wrong turn... I'm currently bedridden right now so this took a long time to make.

[siyelius]

I wanna hear your headcanons about Josh and dynamic he has with Markus

oh shoot I love that guy he’s so underrated. I love how bold and unapologetic he is of his opinons. This’ll be long so I’ll try and section it off:

if you’ve got any you’d like to add I’d love to discuss !!

- his arms seem clean by the time his intro comes around, so given his backstory of having been beaten by drunk college students I’d assumed by then he’d have replaced or healed from most physical damages. then again, I still hc his torso endowed with soldered bullet wounds and plasticine chassis slightly warped from the heat caused by explosives in BfD.

- his baseline for his opinions stems from his past occupation as a professor. He was built to be a walking textbook, he’d be most knowledgeable on civil rights protests and how minority groups reacted to oppression as it was literally ingrained in him from creation. His insistence of refraining from human casualties and making a stand even if it meant the death of many androids is a mirror image of how various peaceful protests throughout history were carried through.

- due to his strong voice, he probably oversees the wing of jericho relating to intel and underground recruitment. he’s able to broadcast on a mass scale (projecting functions / specialized hardware) and is responsible for relaying hidden messages to guide deviants safely into jericho through methods invisible to the naked human eye. he’s quite talkative, so he fills in the goal of jericho to deviants markus may have freshly converted. like a guide. (this is more speculation, but I’d like to think Jericho’s old symbol being a monkey’s wrench was his idea as it references the railroad.)

- josh probably finds comfort in knowing his words are genuinely heard by the people of jericho, compared to the ignoring and abuse he was victim to while instructing at college. the students saw his lectures as nothing more than a boring youtube video spoken verbally as a lazy excuse for an actual, human professor to not be teaching instead. In jericho, he’s seen as both a person and a superintendent, so he’s respected and listened to by other androids. and they recognize that josh’s information isn’t regurgitated from the internet, but of his own experiences and thoughts.

- relating to bonds, while north paired herself with markus constantly id say josh grew close with simon if not already been close previously. he acts as si’s voice quite a lot in Jericho’s chapter, and he wears a university sweater that may have been tied to josh. they were both paired off together on multiple occasions (Stratford, together in the cyberlife warehouse truck, and possible capital park team), so it’s safe to say they probably work well together.

// DYNAMIC WITH MARKUS

I truly believe it fluctuates depending on which Markus decision-wise. Peaceful Markus seems as the most favorable choice to win Josh’s full approval, but his respect and support are on two different fences to me as shown by the argument he can kick up at the beginning of Crossroads. he supports Markus’ choices, but he doesn’t necessarily approve of them. He doesn’t like the deaths of unaffiliated humans, or any who were caught in the crossfire of their missions and he’s not afraid to voice his strong opinions on those matters. yes josh will kill and harm humans, but only if they’re directly involved with their cause and in the moment (ex. the armed forces he’s shot at in both Stratford and fought in freedom march in self-defense).

He clashes with Markus, but I believe it’s out of respect and as an attempt to display his thoughts on the matter. It does no good to blindly follow a leader if you believe their methods are flawed / in need of calling out. and Josh does just that. he also clashes with north quite often, and simon too. no one is safe from josh’s opposition. It just shows that markus has just a chance as any to hear Josh’s words, because what good is improvement if not begun with criticism? It’s why I love josh and some hate him, what others see as him being annoying I see as a necessity both gameplay-wise and in terms of their personalities. Yes his logic is flawed. But so is north’s and Simon’s. All three are from different backgrounds and have different reasonings for how they view humans. If josh believes something is wrong you’re damn right he’s gonna say something. That’s why he’s awesome.

[1989stanz]

Nash proposing to Libby

Hey, guess what? I wrote another fic. Why? Because I have no job.

Disclaimer:

Mentions of Nash Hawthorne, Libby Grambs and Alisa Ortega. Minor cursing.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there's any mistakes.

Word count: 9K (IT'S LIKE THE SHORTEST I CAN, OK?!)

While growing up, all Nash craved and dreamed of—whole heartily, soul consuming and passionately— was his grandfather approval. He just wanted to know that he did enough, that he was enough. All the old man lessons he kept in mind, so he would not make any mistakes the next time. Be perfect. Better. Stronger. That's what Tobias always praised. But it didn't take long for him to discover who his grandfather, the man he admired, was. And after that, how could he learn about what being extraordinary really meant from a man who was worse than the devil? The respect slowly started to go away, giving room for the need to stay away from. From his money. His house. His horrific lessons that Nash memorized, who seemed to age like milk in his brain, leaving the dreadful spoiled smell behind. Eventually, he just put in his head that his lectures were full of bullshit that he did not need. But he knew, deep in his soul and heart, that he would never forget one, no matter how much time passed by. It just didn't go away.

5 years later

Nash was 22 years old, and he just came home from a long trip around the country. He tried working at different jobs, since he wouldn't use his grandfather money to keep him alive and under a roof. Tried being a mechanic, because he understood a lot of cars and motorcycles. Chef, since he knew a thing or two about cooking. Worked at Target for a long period, for the reason that he simply liked his costumers. Makeup artist, 'cause why not? At the time, he found it more enthusiastic to work as a bartender, serving all kind of drinks and listening to people's stories. However, he usually had a hard time trying to get a job, since he even refused to use his real last name and had to use a fake ID. Fortunately, he knew how to convince someone that his name really was Nash Ortega. Maybe he could change after his marriage with Alisa. Sure, she was having a bad time accepting the fact that he wanted her to move on from his grandfather and get others clients, but she probably would give in. She loved Nash and already said that she wanted to have a life with him, so there was a high chance that they would make it through. Of course they would. Just because it was a minor argument, that didn't mean they wouldn't work out as a marriage couple. They would, and Nash was more than pleased to state that he couldn't wait any longer to runaway from the billionaire with the love of his life, Alisa. The woman he could only think 24/7. The one he always saw first in the mornings. The one and only he thought about having a family with. His heart pounded faster and harder just at the thought of his new life with his incredible wife. In fact, it beat so fast that it was the only thing he could hear at the quiet tree house. He took a moment to analyze it better. The Hawthornes were know for being magnificent when it came to luxury, always having really expensive and glorious things. Their own house and the others old man's properties were an example of it. But the tree house was out of curve, without anything really rich and embellished. It was like a normal tree house, the magic was on the memories. That's when Nash heard footsteps behind him, too fragile and languidness to belong to any of his brothers. Without turning around, he felt a light but firm hand on his shoulder. “It's beautiful, isn't it?”, the old man asked, and Nash couldn't keep himself from feeling a really pure disgusting feeling of his grandfather. Of everything that he had done. Yet, the Nash that once saw him as a father felt love. “It could be yours, all yours, if you choose to stay with Alisa.” His grandson threw his head back, laughing really hard. “Trying to manipulate me again, Tobias?”, he emphasized his name. No “grandfather” or “old man” for him today. The devil stood still, not appearing offended by his word or apologizing to his grandson. But the secret was that he would never say sorry to any of them—ever. He would die before it. “You're consistent, Nash,” he replied. “Resisting even when I offer you everything. That's what I love about you.” Nash snorted, “We both know that it isn't going to be me.” Tobias looked at Nash's eyes, his expression never giving a hint about his thoughts.

“Maybe you really aren't. But who cares? You decided years and years ago that you hated everything that was related to me, and you've been running away from me since them. And you have the audacity to say in front of my face that I'm manipulating you!”. The old man smiled, amused. “You took a decision years ago and stood with it, without any hesitation.”, he looked at Nash. “That's what you should do if you want to help people. I know you don't want my money, but don't hesitate, Nash. Never hesitate when making decisions to save someone. Be consistent, hard to deal with hesitation.”, he looked away. “If you don't be, the consequences can destroy you completely.” Nash felt like the old man was talking about his own experiences in life, but he didn't give a damn at the time. Or at least pretended to. He wasn't really good at pretending, if everything always came back to haunt him.

——————————————————————————

Looking at the ring he just bought to Libby, this memory came back. Nash wasn't made for hesitation. He always thought about the right decision to make, and he stood with his decision no matter what. It was hard to change his mind. When he broke free from the old man, he was confident about it. When it came to his brothers, he was sure about every single decision. Even when he proposed to Alisa, he was more than certain about it. Of course, he was ignorant enough to think that Alisa would give up on the old man. She didn't, and it was terrifying to think about the things that Tobias did. The things he took away from Nash. But this time he wasn't there, which meant that he couldn't take Libby away. He was hers and this would never change. He was sure about everything that was about her, so why he got so nervous and insecure just by looking at the ring? Probably because he didn't know if she wanted it too. Libby loved Nash, but what if it was too early to take this step? What if it was the wrong kind of ring? What if the place wasn't adequate? And the most horrendous question: what if she wanted it, but not with him? There were so many doubts, and he didn't like to be so. . . Scared. That's it, Libby managed to get him scared. And unsure. But that's what he would find in a marriage life. Sometimes, being married isn't a straight road, and it's definitely not easy and secure. It was more like being in a road full of multiple turns and confused, mysterious and even scary streets. But once the streets are crossed, the rest is lovely. Not easy, but worth it. And Nash was ready for it.

Libby spent her entire life in Connecticut, and now that she had money and a food truck business, she wanted to travel to places that once were only part of an unreachable dream. Like Paris. Nash had the idea, and he planned everything for the two of them: booked a hotel, searched for restaurants that made her favorite foods, localized the most famous places that sold flowers—just in case— and he had every single day planned. Well, at least the second day had to strictly follow the plan.

They arrived late at night in Paris, Nash still feeling terrible from the flight, ate dinner and slept. Nash woke up at 5:00 am, anxiety not letting him sleep for long, and they left at 7:00 am.

The Eiffel Tower. Notre Dame. Palais Garnier. Louvre Museum. Champs-Élysées. Nash took her to visit all these places, loving to see the admiration in her face. He has been to Paris before, therefore there wasn't anything he hasn't seen—at least at the most famous locations. Even though he did not like expensive places, he really wanted to give this experience to Libby before proposing. And by the end of the day, they were exhausted. It was impossible to feel his toes, but he had to ask the important question to her. They were standing on a cliff, staring at the Eiffel Tower—which was pretty, he had to admit. “Nash, why did you randomly take me to Paris?” Libby asked, and he froze, unable to even look at her. But she glanced at him. “I know you would eventually take me to travel, but why right now?”

He gathered himself, his heart pounding fast. “I love you, Libby. You deserve to have a day like this one every day for the rest of your life”, he picked her chin, looking in her eyes. “But I brought you here today because I wanted to ask you something.” He dropped her chin, searching for the ring on his pocket. “You saved me in so many ways, Libby. You fixed what I thought could never be fixed. You loved me for what I am, and I want to be with you until I die. So,” he picked the box, “I really want to know.” Opening it carefully, he revealed the ring. If he wasn't shaking, sweating and so god-damn nervous, he would've noticed Libby's shy smile and her hands shaking. She was blushing, like him. Kneeling, he asked, “Lib, will you marry me?” Her smile grew more and more, happiness dominating her completely. She shook her head and said out loud, “Yes, Nash. I'll marry you. I love you so much.” Lib managed to say the last part with a quavering voice, tears falling down her cheeks. He got up from the ground, and she hugged him really tight, both with bright smiles. Nash kissed her like his life depended on it, like he was made for it and for nothing else, a soft and lovely kiss. His lips held an unspoken promise: “I will fight for you, love you, and always choose you. I'm yours, and I'll do everything I can to make you happy.” And they stood there, kissing, with happy tears in their eyes.

[neuroticboyfriend]

idk if you want other experiences about cannabis? So feel free to ignore!

But it is our go-to and helps our psychosis and schizo stuff more than anything else. (Antipsychotics had no effect on my psychosis.) Weed helps me so much both with reducing the amount of delusions and their severity. It also makes me care way, way, way less (same for my social anxiety and phobias and physical pain). It also just reduces my stress which reduces my hallucinations and delusions. I don't think it specifically reduces visual or auditory hallucinations much for me outside of that but it does make me not care about them. [And note: if I get *really really really high* (like taking double my tolerance in edibles or something) it can make my psychosis worse but still in a way where I'm less distressed by it and don't need to act on it, so like, still a win?]

I had fully developed schizoaffective for years before I tried cannabis, and stayed away from it for a long time, for the same reason as you. So totally up to you, and I respect your decision either way! (Not that my input matters lol but just reaffirming it's your right to choose!] and I definitely would try it with someone I trust the first time, and not use very much.

But i know quite a few psychotic people who really benefit from cannabis. And I know a couple who aren't psychotic in regular life but get paranoid on weed. So like. It depends! It's not for everyone but it can really help some people. My partner and i are both much saner on cannabis. But it's up to you if you want to try it or not! Feel free to message if you ever wanna talk about it or have questions. <3

I'm sorry things are hard, have another baby Julian (he's growing up so fast sob emoji 😭 )

ID: a five week old dilute orange kitten. He has white on his chest and big ears and is sitting among a bunch of toys, and half sitting in a coiled spring toy

That's honestly really good to know. I thought there was no chance someone like me could ever use weed, but maybe there is hope. I cant be normal about substances, but maybe I cant get a medical marijuana card.

I'm trying to see substances as a means to an end, instead of moralizing them and feeling like I'm doomed because I use them. Yeah, I definitely am on a downwards trend but, harm reduction. That's what helps me most, and weed is a lot safer than narcotics and alcohol.

Also so happy to see kitten Julian growing up!! honestly the fact you link me to him even tho we dont know each other in person or talk privately a lot is :') it warms my heart. Thank you friend, I always love hearing from you - your experiences and insight are always helpful.

[quodekash]

PART 2 OF DANGEROUS ROMANCE EP4 COMMENTARY BC I HAVE TOO MANY THOUGHTS AND RAN OUT OF SCREENSHOTS

because of them, im now gonna start sobbing every time someone throws a peace sign at me

HELL YES

IM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

YUOU DID SO GOOD KANG

I KNEW YPU COULD DO IT

AIUOGHKJERPODHFKN

NOOOOOOO

FRICK

my boy is having many thoughts. none of them good.

I can hear his crisis and him blaming himself because now he thinks it's his fault that sailom's gonna get beat up, and he's sad for himself that he doesn't have a reason to spend time with sailom anymore, and now his grandma's gonna be disappointed in him for failing something, and there's definitely some thoughts in the mix there about his dad and the bike he bought him and kang is so certain he doesn't deserve the bike, I could go on but I wont because I would like to finish this episode before the sun rises and currently that doesnt seem all too likely

well DUH

YOU COULD SEE IT FROM MARS (and now im thinking about soundwin. frick.)

tell him

tellllll himmmmmm

tell him he lent the umbrella to youuuuu

and you've treasured it forever perhaps?

OMG HE'S TELLING HIM???

DUDE THEYRE ACTUALLY LISTENING TO ME SO MUCH THIS EPISODE THIS IS SO RARE

chances are either the bus or Kang's car is gonna show up before he'll get it out, bUT ONCE AGAIN, LET ME BASK IN THIS RARE MOMENT OF GLORY AND POWER

BOOM

CALLED IT

I know it's super cliche and everyone probably saw that coming but I dont care, im gonna let myself feel almighty powerful

I just. I will never understand why they dont just like quickly tell the person before leaving. or like yell at him while getting on the bus. OR EVEN text him while on the bus, immediately after getting on. that's what id do, cos if I dont tell them right then and there, I guarantee you I will forget to ever tell them, and then it'll keep me up at night for ages but never at a moment where I actually think about telling them, and then three or four years later ill finally tell them and it'll be so insignificant by then but it doesnt matter because I FINALLY TOLD THEM THE THING

I really hope he remembers to give at least one of those umbrellas back to kang

mans is not waterproof, he needs an umbrella

respect for auto just went down down prices are down

crypto? seriously honey?

IT'S SO CHEESY

IT'S SO CLICHE

AND IM CRYING ABOUT IT BECAUSE SOMEHOW I BOTH IRONICALLY AND UNIRONICALLY LOVE CHEESY AND CLICHE MOMENTS WITH ALL MY FRIKIN SOUL

EW

SPORTS

I hate sports days so much

thankfully id always be allowed to just not go to school instead of being forced to participate in athletics and swimming carnivals and cross country and stuff, and I will be forever grateful to my parents for that

they're in love btw

just in case anyone forgot

I didn't forget

I can't forget about them

my brain wont allow it

IT'S JUST

ITS JUST SO SWEET

I THINK IM GOING INSANE, THEY HATE EACH OTHER AND WANT TO KILL EACH OTHER SO BADLY THAT IT'S LITERALLY ROMANTIC

THIS IS PINING

HE IS PINING

PL E A SE CAN THEY KISS

NAWA'S HEAD TILT????? LIKE THEYRE LITERALLY ABOUT TO KISS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU

two things to say here

one: view, please marry me

two: kang and sailom definitely have the same responsibilities

just KISS

I can't deal with the longing stares anymore

im like 80% certain they wont kiss this episode but I so badly want them to

NOOOO THEYRE NOT IN THE SAME GROUP THINGY

....but (hehe butt)

...maybe

...perhaps

I think kang might pull some strings to end up in the same department as sailom? maybe??

IM DYING, THERE'S A MARC AND A PAVIN (which sounded like pawin)

THEY GAVE UP THINKING OF NAMES FOR THE RANDOM CLASSMATES

ooooo he is listening to their conversationnnnnn

AND THEYRE GONNA INTERACT IN A FRIKIN BATHROOM??? I SWEAR, EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW IS SOUNDWIN CODED, IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU

5ER6CYVTGUOBHIOVTRC6DE5S4E57RCVYUBHUVTRDS3GTFD46F7GY8H

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY

THEYRE JUST SO

HE'S SO GOUERGJND

LMAO YOU IDIOT

(we're getting so many cheesy cliches right after each other and I am so here for it, I love this so much)

now kiss

OH

OH THIS IS THIS PART???? DAMN

he needs money to pay off his debts, so... he's gonna take a job offer from the guy he pays his debts to? feels kinda pointless, right?

also in this series, pepper reminds me of tor, specifically in midnight museum, so part of my mind thinks hes gonna offer him a job at the museum

LMAO

'MYNAME6969'

I WANT TO KNOW WHO PUT THAT IN THERE AND GIVE THEM A HIGH FIVE BECAUSE THATS FRIKIN HILARIOUS, WHOEVER SNUCK THAT IN THERE

IM DYING I LOVE THAT SO MUCH

as someone who sprained an ankle a little over a month ago, I have some points to make

namely: saifah is right. the first 72 hours are the most important, as long as you're resting it, keeping it elevated, icing it, compressing it, you'll be all good to walk on it in no time. after that, you need to make sure you're still taking care of it, like by wearing a compression sock all the time, and not walking on it too much if it starts hurting, stuff like that. that's the part I didnt do. I took care of it for three days, then kept walking on it like nothing happened, and it's still really painful sometimes, it never properly healed, but like it's fine im surviving

OH I DO NOT LIKE THIS, I DO NOT LIKE THIS AT ALL

HE'S SO OLD

ICKY I FEEL ICKY

there's nothing wrong with the work he's doing, it's just the fact that he's still a kid and thats a 50 year old man

on another note, I ran out of bloody images AGAIN

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, ITS NEARLY 2AM. IVE BEEN WATCHING FOR NEARLY 2 AND A HALF HOURS AND IM NOT EVEN THREE QUARTERS THROUGH THE EPISODE, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME

[satrs]

ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ - ɪᴢᴀɴᴀ ᴋᴜʀᴏᴋᴀᴡᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ °3

Warnings:  cursing?, violence

"Madam l/n?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you hear your name in your sleep. "Madam l/n, we've reached the destination", the chauffeur said in a soothing manner.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, slowly ajusting your sight to the area around you. "There is no need to rush, madam. Take your time please. I will take your luggage and bring it into the house. Is that alright with you madam?"

He questions, only getting a tired nod in response, "do you need help to get up? Perhaps, should I carry you?", he asked with a tint of concern in his voice.

Turning towards him, you shake your head, "No it's alright, just had to take a quick nap", you respond, getting out of the car the young man held open for you the whole time.

You take one last glance on your phone, hoping to see a missed call, if not then a message from Izana. But nothing. Sighing to yourself, you took out the keys of the vacation house, nd opening the door.

As you stepped in, and got out of your shoes, old memories flowded your mind, all the shared moments you and Izana have made here. Good ones, funny ones, romantic ones, and much more except for one: Sad memories. Back then, you never would've imagined nor belived in what situation you are right now.

The last time you and Izana made a vacation here, just the two of you was at least two years ago. Back then, you barely had an argument with him, nor did he or you passed one day without showing each other your love.

"It's a beautiful place. Isolated from the city high in the mountains, with a beautiful view to a forest", the voice of the young chuffeur broke you out of your thoughts, making you turn around to look at him.

He had already brought your luggage with him, politely standing at the doorstep, not thinking about entering the estate. "Why don't you come in? It's quite cold outside, you want some tea? I can make you some", you asked him, feeling bad just letting him stand there.

"N-no it's alright madam but thank you for the invite. My only order was to bring you here", he replied with a small smile adoring his features. Accepting his choice, a question still clouded your mind, "Alright then. Oh I was meaning to ask, are you new here? I've never saw you before", you asked, the curiosity getting the best of you.

His body turned tense as he replied, "yes I am madam l/n", you responded with a smile adoring your features, "You're doing a great job. I will put in a good word for you", you winked at him, making his eyes widen.

"T-thank you very much madam. I will do my best", he bowed down slightly, showing his respect. "Very well then. I wish you a good night", you say, smiling again.

"Thank you. I wish you a pleasant rest of the night", and with that, he turned around, closing the door behind him.

Not wanting to pack out your luggage because you were exhausted, you decided to walk up the wide and massive wooden stairs into one of the many bedrooms, to make the bed ready for you to sleep on, only for you to find it perfectly done.

"Thank god I'm so tired", you mumble to yourself. You put down your coat into one of the chairs standing in the corner of the room, and brought yourself back to the bed in slow steps, laying down on it. As you were about to close your eyes, the ringing of your phone on the nightstand made you jump up.

Reaching for your phone, you imediantly picked up as you saw the caller id. "I-Izana?", you asked right after you brought the little device to your ear. You were met with silence for a moment, then a familiar voice was heared from the other end.

"Are you at the estate?", Izanas cold and halfhearted voice met your ears. Your heart started racing, your lips curled into a bright smile and your vison slowly started to get blurry due to the tears forming in your eyes.

How long was it? The last time you heared his voice? It didn't matter that his voice sounded cold towards you. Or to be exact, you didn't really notice. You heared your lovers voice after what seemed like months, so of course you are filled with joy.

"Oh my god. Babe I miss you so much when-", "I asked you a fucking question", he snaped at you."Are you at the estate?"

Bitting your lips to contain your tears, you answer, "yes but why did you tell me to move out? Are you", your heart aching at the words your're about to say, "breaking up with me?"

Ignoring your questions and concerned voice, he only replied in a harsh voice. "Good. I'll be there soon and explain. Maybe. If nothing comes up."

Before you could response, the line was cut by the sound long beeping that symbolizes the end of the call. "He seemed to be in a hurry. I hope everything is ok", you say to yourself, still nibbling on your bottom lip to out auf concern.

As many times as you tried, you couldn't fall asleep after the short call you had with Izana. To excited to might see him again and desperately wanting his todays actions explained. Well perferably, his whole behaviour from the past weeks. But one step at a time.

You were sitting at the table with a coffee in your hands, holding it close to your mouth to take another sip from it. Your rigt leg was continously tapping at the floor, while you were staring at the wall, eyes not being able to look away from that one spot, the clock already passed 3 am.

Suddenly, your ears pearked up at the sound of the front door creaking. Quickly turning your head to the door, you jump up to your feet, almost sprinting at the figure appearing infront of you.

You threw your arms over his neck, tears rolling down your face, " 'zana I- god. Why didn't you at least call me once?! I was so worried."

No matter what reaction you showed or what words you said, his posture didn't change in the slightest. Instead, he harshly shoved you off of him, "Get the fuck off of me.", he gave you an irritaded look, making your eyes widen and your tears of joy turned into tears of sadness.        "W-what..?"

Clicking his tongue, he spoke to you in a voice that made you shiver,

"Get your crybaby ass on the couch. We need to talk."

[greenlighted]

WIP WEDNESDAY

i started planning and writing little bits and pieces of a drarry wip last night while i was high after work, and i have no recollection of doing any of it.

but here's a snippet of it that i wrote that i think could be worth reworking a little bit !

i haven't written in so, so long so this is definitely very rough. its from dracos pov which im very out of practice in, but im thinking i want to commit to the fic in harrys pov. but, i do want to explore some of the scenes im thinking about for it from dracos pov so ill probably post a lot about that here or maybe in a separate work if i ever write this enough to post.

id love some cheerleading and opinions ! ♡

content under the cut ♡

all draco could hear for a moment were longbottoms loud snores before he felt harry shift against him slightly before whispering so softly draco almost couldn't hear him at all.

"i really have liked you for a long time."

draco stills at hearing the words a second time. he'd known that it was the truth as the first time he'd said it, harry was incapable of lying. yet, somehow, draco still couldn't quite believe him then. it seemed inconceivable that harry could ever like him when there were miles and miles between draco and the kind of person that was worthy of, that was deserving of, holding the attention of harry potter.

draco malfoy was not likeable. he'd even go as far as to say he was severely unlikeable. and harry potter? harry was so incredibly likeable, and extremely hard to dislike. draco would know, he'd been trying since he was eleven.

if there was one known fact of the universe that draco could comfortably rely on, one thing that had never failed to keep him grounded, it was the fact that harry potter did not like draco malfoy.

and then, suddenly, two months after the war had ended, harry potter was defending draco malfoy in court.

and then, suddenly, two weeks after harry had defended draco in court, he'd owled him his wand back.

and then, not nearly as suddenly, two days after harry had owled draco his wand back, draco had owled him back.

and then, perhaps inevitably, not a day had passed since that they hadn't spoken.

feet upon feets worth of parchment owled back and forth became sitting next to each other for meals in the great hall.

draco owling harry a birthday present became sitting entirely too close together on the couch in the empty eighth year common room swapping christmas presents.

it had snuck up on him, the realization that harry no longer disliked him. that he actually, somehow, liked him quite a bit. he'd known that to be fact as well, even without the help of a truth potion. harry potter had never been someone capable of masking his emotions, he had always worn his heart on his sleeve and draco respected him for it as much as he was terrified of him for it.

he could tell that harry liked him, in whatever way, in the way that he sought him out when granger and weasley got a little caught up in each other, in the way that he asked draco to have seekers matches with him and no longer got angry when draco inevitably started trying to cheat, the way that harry smiled and laughed around him with - with him, always, and never at him. he could tell in the moments where they stayed awake with each other in the common room, leaning against each other on the sofa in front of the fire, telling each other things they've never told anybody else.

draco malfoy had somehow, against all odds, made a best friend out of harry potter. if his father had a grave he'd be rolling in it.

"how long?" draco finally asks, hoping harry couldn't feel the rapid beating of his heart under his head.

"the whole time, probably," harry answers quietly, all but sighing the words into the bare skin of draco's neck. "not in the way that matters until maybe sixth year, though."

the thought of harry potter thinking that him liking draco malfoy in any way was anything less than extraordinary was almost laughable. draco malfoy had wanted harry potter to like him from the moment he'd learned who he was, long before he'd even gotten to meet him.

"you liking me in any way has always mattered," he whispers after a moment of hesitation, vulnerability and raw honesty had always felt uncomfortable to him.

[seasidepickup]

it’s october 24, 2020, i’m scheduling this to post in 2023, when i turn 20, see i don’t know if i’ll even be alive til then but if i am i think it’ll be nice to know i was thinking of me/you even now, how have the first few hours treated you so far? i hope it’s better than stupid i think you have a lot ahead of you and i really hope i’ll see this again someday, it’ll be a sign i think, anyway happy birthday

- (17 year old) Amal *****

checking in on july 31st, 2021

this year has been a little rough quite a few scandals but topped off by a girl i think i love so much that i can barely rmbr what the problems were abt not too long ago. it’s still hard ofc but we’re learning how to cope and deal w that ! you have a job now!!! i’m so proud that you did it, i think i’m gna leave it soon tho but that’s ok bc i’m trying to welcome change, maybe a little too much, things are looking up tho in the places i can control and ik it’s gonna get better from here so i’m excited for you. have u moved out future future amal? how are you and ***? it’s really good right now even tho we’re both struggling individually. havent said we love each other yet tho even tho i think we both do…. i hope all is well or that you’re taking it all well at least, hope to see you soon- (18 and 5 months old) Amal *****

March 15, 2022

I turned 19 not too long ago, and the birthday was good but so so lonely. i think that’s a problem within me, not based on who’s around me. Anyway, my first day of work at starbucks is tomorrow and i’m really excited, it’s gonna be pushing me, given that most of my shifts are hella early but ik it’s gonna be good for me and i have a feeling i’m gonna be there for a long time. I’m still in a relationship but i’ve been struggling mentally for awhile (nothing new) I hope i can figure something out soon, it’s different being depressed when you’re with someone, cuz it’s not just you who’s effected and u can really see how you’re feeling reflected back in how you treat people and how hard the simplest things turn out to be. I just want to be better and ik there’s layers to all this but i don’t want to be like this with her. I grew a lot last year, i’ll miss being 18 it was a really good time and i changed in ways i never thought i needed. But i also have a really good feeling about this year. I’m trying to be more practical, i’m also realizing how much i care abt my family and the traditional things that i can’t have with my untraditional identity, and that’s a doozy (ew lmao). I’m just trying to keep up, it’s hardest to keep up with myself tho. See you soon xx

May 28, 2023

I’ve been procrastinating this post, i haven’t really known what to say because so much has happened, and there’s so much that i don’t want to think about from the last few months. it’s a bit overwhelming, all the change. i’m an actual adult now, i have an internship, i’m in college, i’ve moved on from my last relationship and i’ve learned who i am outside of it. it’s bittersweet. letting that person go, and who i was with them, but it’s good. i needed all of that and i would never change it. i’m handing things better, but it’s scary of course. i’m in a place i never thought i would be when i started this thread. i have so much drive and passion again, self-respect and love too. i have plans but i’m learning that my mom was right, you can plan and plan but the universe (or god lol) might have something else in store for you, i’m welcoming all of that, albeit begrudgingly. but yea. i liked being a kid, i’m reverting to the things that brought me simple joy, like accessories and silly pens, my family and best friend, crushes, etc. i’m letting myself enjoy all the things i denied for so long. i’m learning no matter how much you have to say, sometimes you’re the only person who needs to hear it, take that as you will. but anyway, being 20… i didn’t think i’d live this long a few years ago, but i’m here now, i know i would be proud had i known where id end up. and deep down that 17/18/19 year old me is coming out to let me know that. in the little things that i do, in the ways i’ve surpassed myself and grown, they know what im doing, and what’s ahead of me, and how much better it’s gotten. i hope it’s only up from here. but i do know that the highs and lows are ok too, you can’t have highs without having lows and whatnot. i have a lot of healing and growing ahead of me, and i welcome that, because it’s got me this far, i have hope, faith, and trust in myself and the future, something that i didn’t allow myself to indulge in for so long, i hope more surprises are in my future, i know that the plans and beliefs d set in stone a few years ago are ever changing, and that’s ok, it’s not a betrayal to my old self. it’s just me looking out for me. and being mature enough to learn and understand my growth includes something different than what i wanted or believed when i was 17

- Amal :)

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

[phightingconfessions]

ik this isnt a confession but i had sooo much more to say about magical girls but i knew that ask wouldve been a mile long if i said Anything (they've been my special interest like all of my life..)

but pls pls im a huge nerd abt magical girls id love to hear abt ur ocs 🥺🥺🥺🥺

-🕷️

I LOVE MAGICAL GIRLS!!!!!! its a very passive interest for me but oughh i love magical girls so much as a concept... theyre so silly ive been meaning to watch more mg animes....... sailor moon and madoka magica i will always love u

IF I WENT ON ABT MY OCS THIS POST WOULD BE A MILE LONGoh my god i can put stuff under the cut EVERYONE IGNORE THE CUT IF YOU DGAF ABOUT MAGICAL GIRLS

the general concept for the world is What If Magical Girls Worked For The Government bc i feel like that is such an interesting concept.. like magical girls being public knowledge...... i wanna clean up some of the world lore first everythings been a very heavy wip but the plan is for it to be a public community kinda thing... almost like how scp is a community made project.... people can make their own mgs and play with them like touys....

i wanna flesh out the floaty guys and the worms more bc theyre the weakest point of this whole oc-verse but i havent had the brainpower to do so yet.... this world is almost 2 years old in december actually i forgot how long its been since i worked on this

to elaborate on the "by force" bit, one of my ocs (harvey kendall) literally woke up one day to attend classes and saw a mg charm on his desk and was like "ooohhh my god i just wanna finish out my major. why me of all people." bro thought being a magical girl was for one day!! he mad!!!!

heres some of the general most common groups and random lore bits for them, blood moon corp is still being thought over in my head bc i need to figure out more logistics for them

all of the groups are really neutral, the government will kill magical girls who arent actively working for them but still treat their employed magical girls with decent levels of respect and very good living situations, ssu is working towards a very good goal but theyre a bit too strict on how their magical girls can behave and have almost a puritan quality to them (most mgs that work for them arent THAT uppity, its most the senior mgs), rift is generally seen as the best option for rogues but they dont pay anything so its really a matter of if youre comfortable HAVING to work a day job and dropping it at a moments notice to go help out, blood moon corp is mostly normal outside of the using its dead members magic to resurrect an old mg (theyre also vaguely unwelcoming, most of them dont really like interacting with each other), rogue uncontracted offers genuinely no sort of support so its seen as the riskiest but you also dont have to adhere to any sort of rules or goals and can do whatever you want

and heres all of the current ocs :) (basil is mod rocket ive looped it into this universe by force)

soo!!! thats it!!!!!!! sorry for the lore dump i am so normal about my ocs im so normal im so [paces in a circle]

[1voided9thoughts9and4prayers]

This perilous life has taken a toll on my mental state. I find myself spending more time in my head than I do in reality; even catching myself staring off into nothing thinking not one thing. Derrepente snapping back, to wherever it is i am, to give myself the animo Id wish to hear from others. Although I don't depend on others to give me the hope, the clarification that everything is going to be okay is always uplifting. I appreciate those that didn't say much and really kept me in their thoughts and company. My love and respect for them will forever be held high on a mantel for they had no real reason to see how much I'm worth but actually value my personal being, and that alone is what has given me the faith to keep going forward regardless if I have to hurdle or a crawl. You better believe I'm breaking through it all. Those that only spoke on it, I think, they hoped it would register and resonate later on in situations like this only so they can know where I'm at when I would reach out so they can do nothing about it. Not to say it's out of cynical malice but subconsciously hoping that they know someone is doing worse than they are would in turn lift their spirits. Though they're that much closer to that climax of them doing great and I may be a little behind as long as we both get there is all that matters to me. I don't wish ill on anyone, not even on the ones others think deserve it. I can't relate, I won't the best even for my most disliked acquaintance, for I don't have anyone I'd consider a enemy. If anyone can take anything from this I hope it's that they spend their precious time valuing and embracing every experience life has for one another.

[ut-girl666]

also id like to think about a number of other facts.

now I haven’t actually read the comics yet (I SWEAR I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO) so please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I do know an amount, and it gives me so many thoughts on this matter:

one, actually Ratchet kinda treats pharma like trash even before all this?? Like, who tf do you know that is a genuinely good friend and doesn’t even say goodbye at the bare minimum when they hear their friend is going to a separate place bc their superior organized it that way, and they may not even ever see each other again, and instead dips as they’re talking to you?? I’m sorry that is such icky behavior from Ratchet. (This is so minor and dumb to get hung up on but it is important to me, bc Pharma probably considered him a friend or the closest thing he had to one, and Ratchet really just went and did that. icky to me.)

two, considering the circumstances, likely Pharma has had multiple psychotic breaks under the duress and stress he was under, and I can only imagine poor Pharma must have been blaming himself, and thinking he deserved this fate, knowing full well how much danger he was in, and he likely had no escape from, so much, at least at some point, because he put himself here, he made the choice, he made that deal with Tarn. this is all his fault, and he deserved whatever happened to him. (Whoopsie, tangent-) so all in all the stress got to him bad, and he ended up shattering into psychosis. and idk if it’s ever said what they intend to do to handle Pharma after?? but I doubt it was putting him in a hospital like he needs, which is what he needs. he does not need jail, he needs to be put in a mental hospital and on meds, for both the safety of others and his own. I am almost certain if someone simply got him psychiatric treatment and meds like necessary, he could with time eventually be redeemed like Drift was. And the fact that (again I could be wrong, please correct me if I’m mistaken) Ratchet and First Aid never consider that?? also icky.

Then with the whole fucking hands thing?? THAT IS A NEXT LEVEL OF VIOLATION OF BODILY AUTONOMY, AND IT’S RATCHET DOING IT?? yeah um if I knew about that why the fuck would I wanna be in his care after that. AND HE WAS GONNA DONATE PHARMA’S FUCKING HANDS TO WHIRL. like awesome, you’re doing something great for Whirl, but those arEN’T YOUR GODDAMN HANDS, TO BE DONATING. So the fact that Pharma was immoral in trying to get them back, is rightfully deserved, because Ratchet was also immoral stealing them in the first place.

Next up, with all due respect, it is in fact awesome that Drift was redeemed, and I love it! But the only thing that saved him from persecution is making a deal with Prowl. Finding Jesus™️ does not exempt you from the law, and is not a valid defense by any means for massive amounts of serial murder. Again, it’s awesome he went through the whole arc, and repented and feels bad about what he’s done, all in all excellent character w/fantastic development. But I am saying, legally speaking at least and a little bit morally, Drift has no leg to stand on against his far worse crimes than Pharma’s.

Pharma in contrast only committed those crimes because of the duress he was under from his deal (WHICH AGAIN, he made with Tarn originally to PROTECT his patients, from the DJD slaughtering everyone on Delphi.)/his psychosis, and absolutely never would have otherwise. Meanwhile Drift? He did all of that completely aware, no psychosis, no duress, nothing. Pharma has a defense, at least enough to put him in a mental institution that can help him. And likely before trial he would in some form have to be medicated, and yknow what I think would happen?? He’d wake from the psychosis and knowing what he’d done absolutely hate himself beyond belief, quite possibly to the point of being suicidal. {Because he had betrayed his patients, he killed them, when he was the one that had tried so valiantly for so long to protect and save them. That was his job, and he failed, betrayed his oath, and killed them. Why hadn’t he tried a little harder? Why didn’t he just turn Tarn down? Their deaths are all his fault, he’s no better than the DJD for what he’s done. He deserves to be executed. (< imagining/emulating Pharma’s thoughts.)}

Apologize for the tangent again. But onward: In short, we know Drift still hates himself for his past, and he repented and was redeemed, the whole bit - who is to say that Pharma cannot also go through the same, just through the power of medicine?

And also Ratchet treating Pharma like the absolute worst person in history ever while literally being married to an ex-infamous Decepticon aligned serial killer is so hypocritical of him.

And the fact of the matter is that realistically either drift or pharma is the standard for redemption in these comics. and either they both count, or neither of them do.

OKAY THIS IS PROBABLY THE LEAST COHERENT OR ORGANIZED THING - AND ESPECIALLY AS POSSIBLY MY FIRST META (idk if you’d call it that) - I’VE EVER WROTE ON HERE, AND PROBABLY IM NOT AS ACCURATE OR RIGHT AS I THINK BC I HAVENT READ THE COMICS YET BUT MY POINT IS OP HERE IS RIGHT, PHARMA IS ABSOLUTELY TRAGIC. AND IN SHORT I AM HAVING SO MANY THOUGHTS MY HEAD IS PRACTICALLY GOING TO EXPLODE.

and that is why I am deciding to fix the narrative by doing exactly that - putting him in a hospital and on medication. because pharma is tragic, and what he needs is help, and desperately.

Also, Ratchet, Drift, and First Aid, are all great characters, god I love them, but it doesn’t change that they also acted not the best with pharma, and I just think we should think about that more, too.

*holds you tightly by the shoulders until you're bleeding* haha funny joke about pharma's chainsaw hands. but you understand that pharma is actually a really tragic character? you understand that he did not work with the DJD willingly and was forced to harvest organs for them under the threat of the entire delphi outpost getting destroyed if he didnt? you understand that while his "crazy doctor DJD" reputation in the fandom can be funny he actually suffered a lot and it only makes sense he ended up cracking under the pressure and the venomous scrutiny from the people he once called his comrades? you understand that his life was literally just a horrible mess of incredibly unlucky coincidences made worse by his bad decisions, which he was making out of fear and self-preservation instinct? you understand how deeply fucked up ratchet stealing his hands and adaptus possessing his body really was and how extremely damaged he must have been? can anyone hear me? are you going to let me out of here now? i swear i wont lick the electrical outlets again.

[magnetothemagnificent]

do you have any feelings or opinions about modern diasporism or doikayt?

i wish i could wrap my mind around it, but i just have this strong strong gut feeling that (especially due to christian hegemony in the west, but also other things) we can't expect some harmonious relationship with our neighbors to form, or for them to accept us when we are non-assimilated. this isn't a "and this is why we need israel!" statement by omission, but a genuine confusion with the diasporist argument. id love to hear your or anyone else's opinions or thoughts.

Personally, I don't like it. I think the diasporist movement is very Ashke-centric and relies on the romanticized ideal of the Shtetl. There was never ever a time in history when Jews were fully safe and accepted in the diaspora. Jews in the Shtetl faced pogroms and exiles and legal restrictions. Jews around the world faced various oppressive laws and massacres in all the many different empires and regions through time. I've been researching my family's genealogy for a few years now. My ancestors never stayed in one place for more than a generation or two because they were constantly chased across Europe and the SWANA region. There is no one village or region my family is from. It also relies on the fact that there is a universal diasporic experience, which there isn't. It also plays into really harmful tropes of respectibility politics, like, "oh if we just act a certain way, the rest of the world will accept us", when it's just not the case. Time and time again we see that antisemites don't care what kind of a Jew you are: Zionist and anti-Zionist, assimilated and non-assimilated, religious and atheist, practicing and non-practicing; we're all the same to antisemites. Instead of trying to get the world to accept us, we need to build better solidarity between our own communities. There is so much lateral animosity between different Jewish communities, and it's horrible. We need to better practice Ahavat Yisrael instead of trying to please the goyish world which will never be fully pleased. We need to instead stand united with our Jewish family, even if we disagree with them, because we are stronger together and we can't rely on the goyim to help us. And another thing the diasporist movement reminds me of is how during the rise of Nazism, it was the Eastern European Jewish immigrants in Germany who first sounded the alarm, but the German Jews who had been established there for a long time who at first doubted how bad it could be, because they fought for Germany in WWI and because they were such model citizens. But the fact is....it doesn't matter how much of a model citizen you are, antisemites don't care. And honestly trying to change ourselves to get the world to accept us is ultimately fruitless- they won't accept us unless they change. We don't have to and shouldn't have to change ourselves for them.

[scuttling]

Crush

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 3,349 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Crushes, Fluff and smut, Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Manhandling Summary: Hotch has had a crush on the new member of his team for as long as he can remember. He keeps his distance, but he knows everything about her—her favorite snacks, how she takes her coffee. They share a room on a case, and at first, he's nervous, but being around her is comfortable, and he longs for more. Is it possible she feels the same way about him? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below!

Aaron has a crush on the newest member of his team. There’s no use denying it, or trying to compartmentalize it and pretend it doesn’t exist; it’s inappropriate, irresponsible, and just plain stupid, but he can’t talk himself out of it no matter how hard he tries. He is completely infatuated with her, whether he likes it or not.

And he does like it, sometimes. Sometimes, she will catch his eye on the jet, or in the office, shoot him a soft smile, and his heart beats fast, his chest feels warm. He thinks, I might never get to be with her, but she does think of me, and that’s something, at least.

Sometimes, he hates it, especially times like these, when they’re all on the jet and Morgan is using every ounce of his charm and charisma, the easy smile he doesn’t think twice about flashing, to try to get her to go out on a date with him. She hasn’t accepted the offer yet, and he’s been trying for about five months, almost the entirety of her career at the BAU, but that doesn’t make Aaron feel any better.

He knows Morgan very well. He’ll convince her eventually, and even if it doesn’t go anywhere, he’ll think about the two of them together all the time and never be able to stop. It will take his (mostly) innocent crush to a darker place, a place of anger and jealousy he’s not proud of, but has no control over.

“I would take you on the most incredible date of your life, mama. Dinner, dancing, a moonlit stroll; we go out for a couple of drinks, maybe I'll try to steal a kiss...”

“Maybe I’ll punch you in the face...” she says with a smirk, but he knows flirting when he hears it, and her threat carries no weight. Morgan shrugs, grins.

“Maybe, but I can take a punch. You need a man, and I am fully prepared to be that man; one little love tap won’t stop me.” She raises her eyebrows, looks over at him with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, first thing’s first: I don't do love taps, I do right hooks, so don't tempt me. Second, I don’t need a man, I want a man, and not just any man will do. When I want something, I want something specific. If I want dessert—”

Cherry cheesecake, Aaron thinks. He’s seen her order it three times, is slightly obsessed with the sound she makes when she takes the first bite.

“—I want cherry cheesecake or nothing. Not chocolate, not strawberry. If I want a glass of wine—”

Pinot Grigio if she wants white, Merlot if she wants red—she almost never wants red.

“—I want Pinot Grigio or nothing. If I have to have red, I’ll order Merlot, but I won’t be happy about it. When we’re on a case and I can’t sleep, and I come out to stare at the vending machine for a midnight snack—”

She either gets peanut butter crackers, or barbeque chips. That’s an easy one. Morgan has to know that.

“—I’ll get barbeque chips, or peanut butter crackers, or nothing. I am uncompromising when it comes to the things I want. So, Derek Morgan,” she says with a smirk, and a bit of attitude; it only makes Morgan smile brighter, and Aaron refrains from rolling his eyes, “when I want a man, I want a specific type of man, and I won’t be worn down no matter how many times you ask me out.”

“And what specific type of man do you want?” he asks, crossing his arms. Everyone is paying attention to their conversation, even Aaron, though he tries to pretend he isn’t.

“Well for starters, a man. You’re acting like a guy right now, and I’m not interested in guys.” JJ says ooh, burn, and everyone laughs. “I want a man who knows who he is, even if who he is isn’t pleasing to everyone. I want a man who isn’t afraid to feel vulnerable, who can be tender, who doesn’t run from a situation just because it makes him emotional. I want a man who pays attention to me when it counts, not just when he wants something. I want a man who will respect my boundaries,” she says, a little pointed, “who will help me grow but not try to change me. Most importantly, I want a man who can handle me, and I don’t think you can handle me.”

Aaron blinks hard at that. He’s pretty certain he could handle her, absolutely wants to.

“Alright, I can’t argue with a woman who knows what she wants, and it’s obvious you know what you want,” Morgan says, palms up in surrender. “Let me know when you find the lucky guy—man—so I can warn him about you.”

“Baby, I am the warning,” she says with a wink, and Aaron shifts in his seat.

It’s going to be a long flight to California. When they get to the hotel, JJ hands out the room assignments as usual, and he’s very surprised when she hands her a key out of the envelope marked 313, and then does the same for him. JJ shrugs.

“They didn’t have any singles, I guess. We’re all doubled up.” The other woman adjusts her bag on her shoulder, looks up at him.

“Is that a problem? I promise I won’t disturb you,” she says with a smile, and he shakes his head and, hopefully, his nervousness.

“No, of course it’s not a problem. Thanks, JJ. Looks like we’re this way,” he says, guiding her down the hall.

Their room is a little cramped, but clean, and he takes the bed closest to the door, sets his bag on it. She walks past him, throws her bag on the other bed and puts her hands on her hips, stares down at the ground. It takes him a moment to understand why.

“We could probably move your nightstand against the wall, share the one in the middle.” She looks up, confused, and he rubs the back of his neck. “You need room to lay down your yoga blanket, right? I know you’ve mentioned before that it helps put you to sleep when we’re traveling.” A brilliant smile curves across her face.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was trying to figure out. Thanks.” He moves to help her, but she lifts the table easily, tucks it in the corner between the desk and the lamp. She rolls out her blanket, pulls an outfit out of her bag. “I’m just going to get changed, and then the bathroom is all yours; I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says, and he means it; she just nods and smiles again, ducks into the bathroom to change her clothes.

Her outfit is… it’s tight, for lack of a better description, a strappy sports bra and patterned leggings; she does a lot of bending, and stretching, and balancing, her body strong and sleek. He tries to go about his business, but he can’t stop looking.

Once he’s finally able to convince himself to look away, lest she get suspicious of his inactivity, he changes his clothes, takes off his watch and sets it beside his gun, badge, and phone on his side of the nightstand. He pulls out his tablet to get caught up on the news, and it’s actually kind of comforting, the soft hum of her breathing the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

He doesn’t realize she’s finished until she walks around between the beds, grabs her badge off the nightstand and slides her credit card out from behind her photo ID. “Heading to the vending machine; need anything?” she asks, and he shakes his head—he already brushed his teeth—earning one of her soft smiles.

She grabs her key, slips out the door, and returns a few minutes later with a pack of peanut butter crackers and a bag of peanut M&Ms—his guilty pleasure. She tosses them onto the bed beside him, and her lips twitch, and she strolls into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

He eats his M&Ms and does not imagine what she looks like wet.

Ultimately, he’s happy she was so thoughtful to bring him a snack, but that does mean he needs to brush his teeth again. The bathroom door is open, steam wafting out, so he figures it’s safe to enter while she finishes getting ready for bed. She’s standing at one of the double sinks, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, brushing her teeth, and he steps up beside her and prepares to do the same.

It’s pleasant, companionable, the familiar sounds of scrape-scrub-spit, and then she washes her face with some foamy, herbal scented concoction he couldn’t begin to identify. He washes his with soap and a little hot water, and she cringes; he frowns.

“What is it?” he asks, toweling off. She hesitates a moment, then flicks open a blue bottle, squeezes a bit of cream into her hands, and lifts them toward his face, pausing with a question in her eyes. He swallows, but leans in closer, and she rubs it over his cheeks, his chin, his forehead.

“Soap like that isn’t good for your skin, not even for guys, and I figured you don’t moisturize. This stuff is unisex, and it will keep you looking young and fresh and handsome; you can have this one, I’ve got more.” She pulls back, washes her hands, and he’s left kind of dazed, longs for the feel of her hands on his face again. That was an unexpected, but very welcome, thing. The next morning, he’s up early, so he showers and gets dressed and then heads down to the lobby for some coffee and a paper. He grabs two cups, stacks them in his hand when he goes to unlock the door to their room; she is awake when he returns, freshly dressed, hair pulled back, and she takes the coffees from his hand before he spills them everywhere.

“Thanks. The one on the left is for you; two sugars,” he says offhand, grabbing his cup and setting it down on the nightstand, flipping open the paper. He sits down on the edge of the bed closest to the nightstand, doesn’t notice her smile, but she settles on her bed across from him, sips her coffee, and reaches up to pull the sports section out from between his fingers. He maybe cracks a smile of his own. That evening, they get back to the room a little cranky, another late night full of dead end leads, and she skips yoga and heads straight for the shower. The blissfully hot water feels good against her skin, and she thinks about touching herself, but it wouldn’t be appropriate, not with Hotch just outside the door.

The thought only makes her hotter, but still, she refrains.

When she’s wrapped up in her towel, she pushes open the door like the night before, starts brushing her teeth, and it’s not long before Hotch fills the space beside her, copying her actions. She washes her face, and he washes his with soap again—so, so wrong—but at least he uses the moisturizer she gave him afterward. Baby steps.

He leaves the room, and she follows him out to grab her pajamas, sees a bottle of water and a bag of barbeque chips laying on her bed.

Enough is enough, she thinks. She wasn’t sure, until they shared this room, but now she’s 100% certain that Hotch has a thing for her, and she’s harboring her own thing, which is stupid. If she wants him (she really, really does) and he wants her, why aren’t they naked already?

Thankfully, that’s easily remedied. She drops her towel, and Hotch looks up from his tablet, drops his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking about last night; how shy you were about our sharing a room. It made me wonder if you’re shy about other things, too.” She walks around her bed, stands between them, presses her fingers to his tablet to push it down, out of his hands. “Are you shy, Hotch?”

“No,” he says roughly, making no effort to conceal the way his eyes sweep over her naked body. She’d blush, but she’s not the blushing type.

“No?” She climbs up, settles in his lap—he’s tenting his boxers already and it makes her feel awesome—and his hands fall to her thighs, spread around him, squeezing roughly. She moans, rolls her hips slowly. “Do you think you can handle me, Hotch? I’m kind of a lot.”

He answers with his hands, grabs her face and pulls her down for a long, dirty, messy kiss. Her chest is heaving by the end of it, and she’s definitely leaving a wet patch on his underwear, she’s so fucking horny. He tips her back, so she’s laying against the sheets, tugs off his shirt, and drapes himself on top of her, tilts her head to the side so he can get his mouth on her neck.

“Oh my god, mmm,” she sighs as he sucks on her throat, grinding his clothed dick against her, and she moves her hands down to sweep them over his body, but he grabs them, pins them up by her head instead. “Fuck, Hotch.” It leaves her mouth as a trembling gasp, and he looks up at her, his eyes dark and hard; he growls out a command for her to stay—she’s sure as shit not going for a damn stroll any time soon—and leans up, pushes his boxers down, and flips her body over.

She’s laying a little sideways, kind of lined up with the bottom corner of the bed—it always makes her feel like a complete whore to fuck anywhere but right up against the pillows, so this alone is enough to get her super hot. He gets both broad palms on her ass, squeezes her hard enough to hurt (and damn if that doesn’t make her pussy drip) and then slowly slides his fingers over her slit, making her toss her head back and groan.

“Oh, yeah. So, so good,” she sighs as he rubs her, spreads her wetness between her lips, over her clit and her mound so she’s sticky and soaked and begging for more, and then he plants his hands on either side of her and thrusts in so hard she has to dig her fingers into the sheets or she’ll go skidding off the bed. “Holy fuck,” she gasps, clutching for dear life as he slams inside roughly and deeply, but so slow it’s almost torture.

“So how am I handling you?” he asks, low into her ear, leaning in to press his chest heavily against her back, rolling his hips and grinding where he’s seated deep. He pulls out almost all of the way and then slams back in so quickly her whole body stutters forward, and her head’s empty, no thoughts but my boss is fucking me and my boss is fucking me good.

She just pants in reply, and he repeats that motion over and over, fast, nearly withdrawing just to fill her until his balls slap against her; she feels filthy, and amazing, and a little pissed it took them this long to do this, and she comes screaming his name, yanking so hard at the bedding that she pulls the fitted sheet right off the mattress.

He keeps pumping inside her, and she clenches around him, moans. He grunts, leans in to nibble her ear. “That’s my girl. Can you handle me?”

“My god, yeah.” She wants to, at least; she’s never been fucked this good in her life, so she’s honestly not sure how much she can handle. It’s always the quiet ones, she really should have known.

“Trust me on this,” he whispers, and she does because she does; he puts his hands on her arms, pries them off of the bed and moves her forward, guides her hands to the floor to support her so she’s half off the bed, her ass up. She’s strong, and he knows she’s strong, but she’s not sure she’s strong enough for this because he just fucking destroyed her and her legs are still shaking. “Trust me,” he coos again, and he shifts up, gets one foot on the ground, holds tightly to her hips, and pounds into her fast and hard, short thrusts that have her moaning and groaning and coming a second time before he even comes once.

He does come, though, just after, and she’s glad she’s got an IUD because if not she’d be leaving here fucking pregnant, no doubt about that.

“Hotch,” she gasps, daring to reach an arm back to touch him, and he pulls her up, lays her back, and kisses her, smoothing his hands all over her body. “Jesus. That was incredible.” She cards her fingers through his hair—he’s breathing heavy too, looks as dopey and pleased as she feels, which makes her smile. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you for the last few months. Thought you didn’t notice me much,” she says softly, and he laughs, incredulous.

“Didn’t notice you? All I do is look at you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over her cheek. She grins.

“Yeah, no, I got that. I figured that out; sorry it took me so long.” He leans in for a kiss, softer and slower, and she gets a little horny again, isn’t sure how that’s possible. “Why’d you stay away so much, if you liked me?” She’d done what she could to get his attention, smiling at him, brushing up against him when she could make it look innocent enough, but he’s always been the picture of propriety, maybe even a little distant.

“Morgan,” he says, making a face like he realizes how silly that was. “He’s been trying to ask you out and I figured you’d say yes eventually; he’s confident in ways I’m not. He’s a lot of things I’m not.”

“Yeah, that’s true, and I like you both for the ways you’re different, but his pursuing me has always been a game. A joke. He’s like a brother to me and he knows it. All in fun,” she says, and then he looks like he feels really silly. She leans up for a kiss. “All's well that ends well though, right?”

“Has this ended well?” he asks, a question in his eyes, and she runs her hands over his arms, his sides.

“If it’s up to me, I’d say this doesn’t have to end at all.” He puts a hand in her hair, kisses her deeply, passionately, and brings a few fingers to rub against her clit. She inhales sharply, licks her lips, and sinks back against the bed. “Oh my god, Hotch.”

“That’s right, baby. I’m your man,” he breathes into her ear, and she groans. Yes, he fucking is. The next morning, she goes to the lobby to pour their coffee, grab a paper to share. She passes Morgan—not a morning person—who grumbles a greeting and then does a double take.

“Whatcha got on your neck there, sweetheart?” he asks, and she grins privately, then schools her expression and turns to face him.

“What? Oh, that,” she says, poking at the purple hickey from the night before. “I’ll cover it with makeup later; needed my coffee first.” He blinks a couple times like he's missing something, frowns.

“Did you go out last night after we got here?”

“Nope, jumped in the shower and went straight to bed,” she replies, which is actually the truth. It just wasn’t her bed. She didn’t say anything about sleeping.

“Then who…?” It’s then that Hotch brushes by them, reaches out a hand for his cup.

“One sugar, one cream,” she says as she passes it over, and they both smile. Morgan knocks his cup over and spills coffee all over the floor.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[chernayawidow]

This got lost in my notifications ahhhhh!!! But it’s okay because I’ve found it now and LETS GET INTO THIS!! I am SO PUMPED UP YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!

“Other times, it was getting poker lessons from Loco and Saul while Frank smoked a cigarette.” — I always find it so amusing that these dudes were originally her captors, and now there’s a fondness for each other. The fact that she’s having a positive dream featuring them just makes me giggle 😂

“And you pulled him inside your room by his shirt, just like you had the first time.” — The image of her just pulling along this all powerful Supe into her room makes me smile, because Ben would have to LET her drag him lmao!

“But he forced you to watch him, to watch yourself as he entered you. Your mouth opened on a gasp.” — I can see him 1000% putting a mirror in above their bed…

“You grabbed your phone, frowning in annoyance at the caller ID. Fucking Butcher again.” — Oh for fucksake Butcher, LET A GIRL HAVE A SEX DREAM WOULD YA?

“You later found him sitting on the porch outside in an old wooden chair, smoking a cigar.” — THIS FEELS LIKE SUCH AN OLD MAN MOVE! Just sitting and smoking cigars on the porch! 🤣🤣

“Old man,” you countered. “Out here in the heat with your day slippers.” — HE’S WEARING SLIPPERS TOO? Oh my gosh that’s even better, she should’ve taken a photo of that (and made it her phones wallpaper)! 🤣

“Because we can’t go around assassinating people,” she said. “That’s not what this group is about.” — Annie darlin’, I know you’re late to the group, but that’s kinda exactly what it was about… hunting down evil assholes and absolutely annihilating them. The targets just all used to be Supe’s is all lmaooo!

“But Ben realized that he’d marked you now, in more ways than one.” — You’ve marked her indeed, no takesies backsies!! 🤙

“You smiled a little. Grabbing a napkin, you reached over and wiped it away. Ben let you do it. His lips curved as he watched you while chewing.” — THEY’RE SO DOMESTIC OMGGGGG 😩🫶

“Your father sighed. “Listen. Stan has no intention of meeting with Victoria.”” — Entering once again from stage left, Jon the asshat that should get a good old king hit 💀

“He wanted to ask you what you were planning on doing for dinner (and when, for that matter). But he was pretty sure you’d verbally bite his head off if he mentioned it.” — He’s learning!!

““You’re smarter than that,” Ben added, giving you a more reserved smile.” — I actually love this whole moment, he’s telling her what she needs to hear.

“Your head tilted in slight confusion, but you went to him. He took your hand, and once again guided you into his lap. He settled you across his thighs and soothed a hand over your hair. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for support, and you sucked in a shaky breath.” — And just like that, I’m tearing up from how cute and sweet Ben is with her 🥺💖

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “We had a deal didn’t we? Long as I’m around, you’ll be all right.” — AHHHHHHHHHHHH OH MY GOD MY HEART IS HAVING A WHOLESOME OVERLOAD!!! 😩💖💖💖💖

“And with that bone-deep thought, Ben knew that this was different. What he was doing here with you meant something to him. Whether you knew it or not…” — Oh my god is it… is it happening???? IS THE MOMENT HAPPENING????

“You…were his. That was just how it was going to be. He decided this in his mind, after he pressed a kiss above the patch of bruising along your temple. You were his.” — YESSSS HE’S REACHED THE EPIPHANY FINALLY OMGGGGGG!!!!!! And it was even more wholesome and sweet and adorable than I could’ve imagined!!! 😭🫶

“Stan remembered when this version of the suit was commissioned, to replace the dull gray with a pop of military color for marketing purposes.” — I love it when you add tidbits like this, they just fluff it up even more. It’s so simple yet so effective in terms of story telling!

“Stan frowned; this tile had just been replaced.” — THIS MADE ME WHEEZE 🤣 gotta respect his dedication though!

“While a fight brewed in Stan Edgar’s office, you were in the familiar bowels of the tower, back in the Security & Surveillance command center…with your father.” — I can’t imagine Ben was happy about her being alone with stupid ass Jon.

““Soldier Boy is dangerous,” Jon said, breaking your attention from the screen. ��However he’s managed to manipulate you into thinking he’s a good guy, there’s no hiding the fact that he can’t control that fucking A-bomb inside him.” — Oh for fucksake Jon, the only manipulator here is you, and at least SB cares about Pookie’s wellbeing!

“Oh, he is dangerous,” you agreed. “He wanted to finish what he started, caving in your skull as well as your chest. If I were you, I’d duck out quick when this is done.” — Correct me if I’m wrong, but I love that this kind of insinuates that she wouldn’t exactly stop Ben from caving in his skull 🤣

“And maybe he didn’t know that you were alone with your father.” — Okay there we go, that explains it!

“All right. Maybe I deserve that,” he said. “But no matter my methods, I’ve always sought the best for you.” — LET ME AT THIS BITCH ASS, HE NEEDS A GOOD OLD LEFT-RIGHT-GOODNIGHT!!

“Seeing the room was clear except for you and Jon, Frank nodded to Loco and stepped further inside.” — Yessss! Our adoptive dad meets the deadbeat piece of shit!! 🥳

““What’s wrong?” Hughie asked. Butcher couldn’t answer him, because on the last cough, a spew of blood coated his hand (and the younger man’s shoes).” — Holy shit! Is this the work of the Temp V?

“It was your voice in his mind. And he remembered you were here too, somewhere in the Tower. He closed his eyes, a strained yell erupting from his throat.” — AWH! I’m so glad that he thought about the whole ‘no collateral’ thing, because regardless of whether it’s his fault or not, Grace wouldn’t give a shit.

OKAY SO THIS CHAPTER WAS HECTIC!! We got Ben wearing slippers and finally realising his feelings, we got Jon being a hypocritical prick, Daddy Frank meeting aforementioned prick, Stan being a cold and calculated queen, Annie being self-righteous and annoying as usual, and VOUGHT TOWER IS FALLING!!! OH MYYYYYY!! I seriously love what you did with this chapter, especially Ben’s protective nature and how he wants to finish off Jon for her that way she’s safe from him forever. He’s been so attentive to her this chapter and it’s so heartwarming to see, I really really need to know his reaction when he finds out she was alone with Jon before Frank and Loco got there! So excited for the next one!!! 🫶🫶🫶🥹💖

Break Me Down - Part 15

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

Word Count: 4,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smuttish. Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, peril, and a cliffhanger…

Part 15: The Tower

You dreamed of Medellin. 

Of being back in that mansion on the cliffside, during a Columbian summer. Sometimes it was sipping a vodka cranberry by the pool. 

Other times, it was getting poker lessons from Loco and Saul while Frank smoked a cigarette. Or reading by yourself in the garden, surrounded by yellow flowers, as the salty wind from the nearby waterfall kissed your cheeks and rustled your sundress.

And once, it was getting caught by Ben on your way back to your new, bigger room. Pretending to be coy, fully aware of him following you, feeling his stare on your ass.

Then when you got to the door, you paused and turned in the doorway, boldly meeting his gaze. 

And you pulled him inside your room by his shirt, just like you had the first time. He pawed at your dress, those heavy hands dragging underneath, probing between your thighs.

You held him to you, reveled in the scrape of his beard against your neck, sighed shakily in his ear as he walked you back, your ass bumping into the dresser.

Ben turned you around. You allowed his manhandling as those hands wrapped around you and found your breasts, kneading every curve before he bent you over on the dresser. 

You braced yourself on the hard wood when those nimble fingers of his teased you through your underwear. Soon enough you sucked in a sharp breath, felt the burn of the lace ripping off, sliding from between your already slippery folds. 

But before he gave you what you wanted, what you were begging him for without words, he reached around and took your face in his hand, encouraging you to lift your head. 

Your gaze found his in the mirror, scorching lust and naked desire. And yet, you still wondered what he saw when he looked at you.

You just couldn’t know that he was wondering the same thing. 

But he forced you to watch him, to watch yourself as he entered you. Your mouth opened on a gasp. 

You woke in bed with a jolt as your cell phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand. You pressed a hand to your rapidly beating heart and sighed. 

You didn’t quite remember the dream, but your skin was tingling all the way down to your toes. Not to mention the suspect heat between your legs…

You grabbed your phone, frowning in annoyance at the caller ID. 

Fucking Butcher again. But you answered, and he had unexpected news for you. 

When you eventually hung up with him, you got ready for the day. Ben must’ve already been awake, as his side of the bed was empty when you woke up. You later found him sitting on the porch outside in an old wooden chair, smoking a cigar.

How can he smoke so early in the morning? you thought with a shake of your head. He looked up at you, his lips lifting around his cigar. 

“Morning,” he said, puffing away. 

“You shouldn’t be hanging out here in the open,” you reminded him. 

He shrugged and reached out a hand to you. Sighing, you took it, and he tugged you over to sit in his lap. You waved the smoke out of your face, giving him a look of amusement and disbelief.

“Where the hell did you find a cigar?”

“Had it ordered in,” he said with a smirk. “That French fuck knows his shit.”

You shook your head at him with a small smile. You assumed he meant Frenchie. 

“We gotta go,” you told him. “Butcher just called.”

“Churchill can calm his tits for ten more minutes,” he said. He offered you a puff of his cigar when he caught you eyeing it. “Want to try it out?”

You grimaced, but part of you was curious, as you had never smoked one of these before. You took the cigar and inhaled a bit, and immediately started dying. This was nothing like smoking a joint.

“Shit,” you coughed out smoke. Ben rumbled with laughter, and you playfully hit his arm. 

“Here, take this thing back,” you said, still coughing. He rubbed your back and took the cigar from you. He continued to puff away. 

“Lightweight,” he teased you. 

“Old man,” you countered. “Out here in the heat with your day slippers.”

He glanced down at said slippers with a slight raise of his brows. Then he rolled his eyes. 

“Eh, fuck off.”

“Mhmm,” you said wryly. And you took the cigar from his mouth.

“Hey!”

Ben didn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back to Supe Affairs, just to be told they couldn’t nail down Stan fucking Edgar.

“I got you Neuman. So what’s the damn problem?” he groused. 

“We haven’t been able to find anything concrete to pin him with, legally speaking,” said Hughie. 

You, Ben, Grace, and the rest of the team had gathered in a large conference room near Grace’s office. You sat while Ben stood to your right, his arms crossed grumpily. 

“What the hell does that matter?” Ben said. “We know what he’s guilty of. I’ve been ready and waiting to take out that fucking weasel.”

“He’s got a bit of a point, actually,” Butcher said. Annie raised an incredulous brow at both of them. 

“Because we can’t go around assassinating people,” she said. “That’s not what this group is about.”

“You’re a late comer to this fucking group, to be fair,” Butcher pointed out, crossing his arms as well. M.M. shot Butcher a look that said, really?

“We do have Victoria,” you spoke up. “Even if she isn’t holding anything else back, she can still help us.”

Grace considered you. “Yes. She can get through his network and give him a call, try to set up a time to meet.”

“And what then?” Annie asked, gesturing at Butcher and Ben. “These two assholes vaporize him?”

“We know they cloned Black Noir,” Hughie jumped in. “Along with a lot of other experiments that are so not fucking legal. We just need to find evidence in the lab.”

“And in the meantime, we get ahold of the slippery bastard,” Frenchie added. You nodded in agreement. 

“The sooner he’s behind bars and Vought is dismantled, the sooner I can bring my family out of protective custody,” you said. 

Grace then turned to M.M. “Marvin, what do you think?” 

All eyes turned to the man, who took in the various stares with a resigned sigh. 

“Let’s get this shit over with,” he said.

With a plan made, Grace, M.M., and Butcher went to visit Victoria upstairs in her holding cell. They coached her through her call to Stan. 

Meanwhile, Ben could care less about how the others eyed him with mistrust. (Well, Hughie tried to “buddy buddy” himself by offering up a cup of joe, but Ben mostly ignored that cum-guzzling moron.) 

No, he’d expected that. He noticed more how they treated you, still with polite distance and awkwardness, making glances between him and you. 

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you’d said to him once. 

Ben understood a bit of what you meant now. 

You later led him out of the conference room and to the cafeteria with your head held high, but he could see that you were hiding it. How people’s stares and whispers were affecting you as the two of you walked down the hall. 

He had plenty of practice with that, letting attention (wanted or otherwise) roll off his back. But Ben realized that he’d marked you now, in more ways than one. 

You later picked at a caesar salad while Ben was busy inhaling his second Italian sub. He subtly watched you, wondered what the hell you were thinking. 

Before he might’ve bit the bullet and just asked you, your phone buzzed on the table.

You read the text from Butcher in the group chat:

Stan agreed to meet Neuman. Tomorrow night at her apartment.

“Good,” you breathed in relief. And you showed Ben the text. He nodded around a mouthful of salami and provolone. Though he had a bit of mustard at the corner of his mouth.  

You smiled a little. Grabbing a napkin, you reached over and wiped it away. Ben let you do it. His lips curved as he watched you while chewing.

“Okay, let’s meet up with them after this. There’s going to be a lot to set up,” you started to say. But your phone trilled once again in your hand, this time a call from an unknown number. Frowning, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“He knows you’ve got her.”

Your expression slackened at whose voice was on the line. Ben noticed, and it actually made him pause on taking another bite of his sandwich. 

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” you said tersely. 

Your father sighed. “Listen. Stan has no intention of meeting with Victoria.”

You reluctantly perked up at that. Ben raised an expectant brow at you. Your lips pursed; you really wanted to hang up on principle, but you knew you couldn’t. You held up a finger at Ben that said, wait. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“Exactly what I said. He knows you have her. He knows you’re trying to trap him,” said Jon.

You sighed, rubbing at the ache starting to form between your eyes. But then your hand fell back to the table. Your expression hardened.

“Did you order the fucking hit on me?” you asked. 

“Sweetheart—”

You closed your eyes. 

“No. No. You don’t get to sweetheart me after you broke my fucking ribs,” you snapped. “Did you know?” 

Ben’s frown darkened as he finally realized who you were talking to. His hand curled into a fist on the table. 

“…No, I didn’t know,” Jon replied. “Why do you think I’m calling you now?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Why the hell are you trying to help me? Isn’t this a conflict of interest?”

You heard a heavy sigh on the line, and you waited. Your patience was starting to thin. You could also see Ben’s mood darkening now that he knew you were talking to your father. You angled yourself slightly, so he couldn’t reach over and grab the phone from you. (You saw his fingers twitching.) 

“He crossed the line sending Black Noir after you and your sister…and your mother,” Jon said. “I can help you on this.”

“There’s no world in which I’d ever trust you again,” you said flatly. 

“You’ve just gotta think here,” said Jon. “Do you want Stan Edgar or not?”

Your lips pursed. But you listened to what he had to say.

When you eventually hung up, Ben walked with you back up the stairs to the conference room. He watched you explain to Butcher and the rest of the team what your father had said, and what he’d proposed as a solution to the problem of Stan Edgar. 

Stan was due to come into the office at Vought Tower for a meeting with presidential candidate, Robert Singer. With Jon’s help, they could squeeze through a gap in security and intercept Stan before the meeting. The idea was to arrest him, but if Black Noir made an appearance, then that was Soldier Boy’s cue. 

And all bets would be off then. 

After Ben sat through the more boring logistics, he was relieved when the meeting finally dispersed, with the goal of meeting back here bright and early tomorrow. 

Even back at the safe house, you were antsy, pacing back and forth across the living room. Ben had changed out of his supe suit into some jeans and a shirt, and he now watched you from the kitchen with a beer. 

He wanted to ask you what you were planning on doing for dinner (and when, for that matter). But he was pretty sure you’d verbally bite his head off if he mentioned it. 

Not that he was afraid of that, by any means…but he’d just rather not get into it with you right now. Not when things had been going good for the past few days. 

So he went into the living room to sit on the couch. He was about to turn on the TV, before you sat down heavily in the lounge chair beside the couch. Your face looked so pensive, so troubled as you rested your chin in your hand, that Ben let out a breath. 

He set down his beer on the coffee table. Then he sat back and crossed his arms, glancing over at you. 

“If we’re going to do this, you need to get your head on straight,” Ben said. 

You looked over at him, not willing to admit you were upset (and that he was right), but unable to lie either. 

“Let me figure out dinner,” you said instead. You got up, but Ben’s voice stopped you.

“When you see him, don’t give him an opening,” he said. You turned to meet his eyes, and you knew full well who he meant by him. 

“You’re smarter than that,” Ben added, giving you a more reserved smile. 

You crossed your arms. Emotion rose high in your throat, and it threatened to choke you as your eyes started to burn. 

“Am I?” you asked. 

Ben’s attempt at a smile faded at the sight of your burgeoning tears. He sighed deeply, and he held out a hand to you. 

“Come ‘ere.”

Your head tilted in slight confusion, but you went to him. He took your hand, and once again guided you into his lap. He settled you across his thighs and soothed a hand over your hair. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for support, and you sucked in a shaky breath. 

“Bet you wish I’d knocked him a bit harder against the fucking wall,” he quipped. 

You uttered a laugh at his dark humor, wiping at your eyes. “Heh. Maybe. It’d certainly make my life less complicated.”

You sighed and rested against his chest, leaning your head on his shoulder. A smile raised your lips when his arm slid around your waist and held you. His thumb soothed back and forth across your thigh. 

And it was then you knew that he really did care about you. 

You turned into him, and hid your face into his neck when your tears burned anew. This time for a different reason, as you realized what this meant to you. How this man had broken through your defenses and slipped his way under your skin.

You had a suspicious feeling that he was there to stay, no matter what happened after this mission was over.

“Want me to finish the job?” Ben offered, barely even half joking. 

“Ben, please,” you implored into his skin. You shook your head, and your fist curled tighter into his shirt. “Just…”

Ben hesitated, but he held you more securely. He soothed a hand up and down your back. 

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “We had a deal didn’t we? Long as I’m around, you’ll be all right.”

You nodded with a sniffle, and Ben felt your tears against his skin.

His hands really itched to finish the job he started with your father—and rip out his throat next time. Matter of fact, as soon as he saw that limp-dick piece of shit, it was on sight.  

And with that bone-deep thought, Ben knew that this was different. What he was doing here with you meant something to him. Whether you knew it or not…

(And you will, he thought.)

You…were his. That was just how it was going to be. 

He decided this in his mind, after he pressed a kiss above the patch of bruising along your temple.   

You were his. 

The following morning, Stan straightened the blazer of his navy suit as he got off the elevator. 

His office lied at the top floor of Vought Tower, and it was newly renovated after the battle that took place last week. His bodyguard opened the glass door for him before he stepped through. 

He reached his new desk and sat down at the plush leather office chair, took up a freshly brewed mug of coffee (cream, no sugar), and enjoyed a satisfying sip. 

Then his bodyguard was pulled away from the front of his door, thrown down the hall. Stan raised his head, but didn’t startle as the door was wrenched open. 

“What the fuck! Not yet—” Starlight’s voice in the hall. But the next guest in his office was a different former employee.  

Soldier Boy stepped through in his familiar green suit. 

Stan remembered when this version of the suit was commissioned, to replace the dull gray with a pop of military color for marketing purposes.

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Ben raised a finger. 

“See, that’s what I can’t fucking stand. A goddamn hypocrite,” he said. “When you came to me in ’84, you said partnering with the military on that Nicaragua mission would call back to my unveiling in ’44. Forty years of service in the making.” 

And forty more that would be stolen from him.

Ben’s hand clenched into a fist. “My mistake was believing you.” 

“And my mistake was replacing you with more of the same,” said Stan, with his usual bland stoicism. “For all that you’d claim otherwise, you and Homelander shared more than just chromosomes.”

Stan stood from his chair, but was discreet in pressing a small button under his desk. 

“In all this posturing, I see an insecure child, yearning for attention,” he continued with a mild shrug. “Your strength is…nothing but a mask for how truly empty you are.”    

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he resisted losing his temper. He knew that would only goad this little prick on. He watched as Stan rounded his desk, pulling his hands behind his back.

“The cold truth is, you sold your humanity so that someone in the world would deign to love you. And if not, to fear you,” he said simply. “I sell it to win.” 

Ben’s senses prickled just in time to raise his shield against a metal spike aimed at his head. It ricocheted and speared into the ground. 

Stan frowned; this tile had just been replaced. But he stepped to the side as Black Noir burst into the office and went for Soldier Boy. He carefully avoided the fight as his bodyguards came to pull him out of the fray. 

Stan’s eyes only widened when the first two guards were shot dead by Billy Butcher and his team. 

While a fight brewed in Stan Edgar’s office, you were in the familiar bowels of the tower, back in the Security & Surveillance command center…with your father. 

The two of you had taken control of the room, dismissing the on-site personnel, and now were in the process of evacuating the tower. At this point, who knew what could happen in the fight between Ben and Black Noir. You weren’t willing to abet any collateral damage, even here. 

Out of several monitors on the big screen, you kept one eye on the fight in Stan’s office. You and Jon noticed a breach in the hall.

“Butcher, you should be on your way out already,” Jon told him through the communicator in his ear. “The secondary team is also on its way up.”

“Right.” 

You watched with a measure of concern. Butcher seemed to be waning against a common security guard. He’d needed M.M. to grab the guy from behind and hurl him into Stan’s desk. Stan himself was plastered against the far corner of the wall, letting his security attempt to subdue Butcher and the rest of your friends. 

Your eyes moved to Black Noir. He’d also brought the same gun from last time—the one that had disrupted Ben’s powers. He was evading well enough so far…

“Soldier Boy is dangerous,” Jon said, breaking your attention from the screen. “However he’s managed to manipulate you into thinking he’s a good guy, there’s no hiding the fact that he can’t control that fucking A-bomb inside him.”

Your lips pursed in annoyance. 

“Oh, he is dangerous,” you agreed. “He wanted to finish what he started, caving in your skull as well as your chest. If I were you, I’d duck out quick when this is done.” 

Jon didn’t answer, but when you glanced at him, you saw the way he stilled, his jaw tensing. 

“Aren’t you glad I dropped him off at the lobby?” you quipped. Then you pressed a button on the control board and overrode the overhead speaker in the Administration office, where you saw people still milling about. 

“Evacuation was not a request,” you said into the speaker. “Put down the fucking chai tea latte and exit through the stairwell to the garage please.”

Jon turned to you while sitting in his chair. 

“After this is over, you’d be smart to start fresh…I could help you.”

You met him with a flat glare. “Now that’s just plain delusional.”

You had half a mind to get Ben on the comm to let Jon know exactly what he’d be in for if he tried to take you anywhere, but you didn’t want to distract Ben right now.

And maybe he didn’t know that you were alone with your father. 

Meanwhile, Jon’s mouth firmed into a line. A tendril of wariness (and maybe fear) laced down your spine. Your hand slowly moved to your belt…but he merely inclined his head. 

“All right. Maybe I deserve that,” he said. “But no matter my methods, I’ve always sought the best for you.”

“The best for—” You paused with a sharp sigh. And you steeled yourself before you replied. “I don’t know what fucked up fantasy world you’re living in, Jon. But after I left, I could finally see it clearly. You are the reason I hated myself.”

Jon didn’t show the true depths of his reaction. That wasn’t his way, but his steely eyes hardened as they held yours for a long moment. Then, he turned back to the screens. 

You released a subtle breath, though your hand stayed resting on your belt. 

Only Ben and Grace knew the truth about the injuries you’d sustained after being picked up at Vought. This time, you weren’t without a weapon. You had a gun on one hip and a taser on the other.

Ben had only agreed to your role in the mission because you’d called for backup. They should’ve been here by now, actually. In fact, they were supposed to meet you in the lobby, before you met up with your father.

Maybe they got stuck in traffic, you thought. You’d been checking your phone for the past ten minutes. 

But then a silent text came in: your backup team had just arrived. In fact, they strolled into the command center in full tactical gear, with guns drawn. Seeing the room was clear except for you and Jon, Frank nodded to Loco and stepped further inside.

“Hey, welcome to the party,” you said, greeting both men with a grateful smile. Jon glanced at you, then the men with a frown.

“Who the fuck are these two?” he asked. 

“My reinforcements,” you replied tartly. You felt better with them here as your spine untightened a bit. 

Frank nodded at you and remained standing to watch the door, while Loco grabbed a chair at your side. You gave him the lowdown of the control settings on the dashboard in front of you. 

“Oh shit,” Loco said when he glanced up at the screen. You followed suit, and a gasp fell from your mouth. 

Ben managed to unmask Black Noir. 

The helmet hung from Ben’s gloved hand. It was Earving all right, but it also wasn’t. His eyes, normally a dark brown, were misted over with gray and almost lifeless. 

“Noir, destabilize him,” Stan commanded from his cowering corner. The supe seemed to hear him, and only that order.

Ben realized now what these fuckers had done. Not only did they create this Noir clone with Homelander scraps, but they’d made the perfect soldier. One that only took orders. 

Butcher noticed too, with widening eyes. Fucking hell.

But he had to brace a hand against the wall as a hacking cough rose unbidden from his chest, worsening the roiling pain in his stomach and the ache behind his eyes. Hughie grabbed his arm to support him, and his face was picture-perfect concern.

“What’s wrong?” Hughie asked. Butcher couldn’t answer him, because on the last cough, a spew of blood coated his hand (and the younger man’s shoes). Hughie’s eyes widened. 

“What the fuck’s going on with you?” he exclaimed. Butcher just grabbed his arm and pulled him a few feet over, so they wouldn’t get caught in the blast of Noir’s energy gun. 

Ben was grappling with him. He focused on summoning the nuclear power collecting in his chest. All he needed was one clear hit, and he’d be able to end this motherfucker for good. 

But before he could fully charge up, Black Noir aimed a well-placed kick to his sternum, sending him back a few feet. It gave Noir the opening he needed to shoot Ben right in the chest with his energy gun. 

An electrifying blue met pulsing red, and swallowed it up. It took Ben along with it. Luckily his shield was clipped onto his back, so it didn’t get eaten up in the initial blast.

Now, he fairly crackled with red and blue fractals, which coursed together into a violet haze. He felt dizzy and wrong, knowing that all this power had to come out. But if that happened, he knew he couldn’t contain it. He didn’t know what would happen. 

Part of him knew it would solve his problem, killing Noir, Stan, Butcher, and the rest of those assholes in one powerful swoop. 

No collateral damage. 

It was your voice in his mind. And he remembered you were here too, somewhere in the Tower. He closed his eyes, a strained yell erupting from his throat.

He couldn’t stop it. The sheer force brought him to his knees before he could angle it up into the sky. Instead, it released into the ground below. 

The nuclear blast tore through concrete like a drill, and it didn’t stop until it reached the very foundations of the tower, deep into the earth.

Afterwards, everything was still. Ben could only stare into the chasm below him while he caught his breath. 

Until the ground, the walls, everything began to tremor and shake. 

“Oh shit,” said M.M. 

During the blast, he’d held onto the far wall with Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie. But now, he grabbed Annie’s arm to pull her up. The shaking grew worse with every second. 

“What the hell was that?” you commed in. No one could answer you yet, but at least it let Ben and the rest of them know that you were alive.

Annie reached out to Hughie, who grabbed onto her hand in relief. He also helped Butcher straighten, putting his arm across Hughie’s shoulders. Butcher glanced up at Black Noir, who was heading towards Stan. Meanwhile, Ben was stumbling to his feet. 

“It’s gonna come down like the fucking Eye of Sauron!” Hughie shouted. 

Butcher shared a grim look with M.M. “Like the bloody Twin Towers.”

AN: 🫨 The Tower's falling! But how'd you like Ben contemplating getting his hands on Jon? 😏

We're heading into the real action here, folks!

Next Time:

You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

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