#if we ever visit. in either direction. i will have to try to make you some proper lemonade so you can understand how egregious it is

[toytulini]

it is baffling to me that ppl keep insisting "if its not sprite then what IS it tho?" and seemingly do not...retain the recipes that are being shared. like you dont have to memorize them its just repeatedly "is lemonade not sprite though? how is it not sprite?"

"its lemon juice, water, and sugar"

"is it not the same as sprite?" no we just told u. does that sound like sprite to you. does sprite give you the vibe of juicing some lemons on a hot summer day? the lemonade version closest to Sprite over here, in terms of Being Lemonade, is still Notably Different from sprite, or any other soda, is probably Minute Maid, a highly processed branded lemonade that you can occasionally get from soda fountains (DESPITE! NOT BEING CARBONATED! similar to how they somehow dispense iced or sweet tea from soda fountains) it sometimes comes in a can or 2L bottle similar to soda, in the soda isle. and its Not Soda. its not Carbonated. its Trying To Pretend So Hard To Be Real Lemonade. it tastes like lemonade thats a bit sad. it is far more lemonade than SPRITE will ever be. if yall were simply insisting that lemonade is carbonated, that it was like, fizzy minute maid, that would be less offensive than calling sprite lemonade. which is Insane. good god.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: If you want to picture me writing any part of this series, picture someone maniacally giggling to themselves the words “this is a surprise tool that will help us later” as they type. Chapter Title from Stand Up by The Revivalists.

Word Count: 9k...

Chapter Summary/Warnings: An opportunity to flip Sister Sage emerges. Contains usual warnings.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

“Everything is… disturbingly clean.”

Ben watched Cocksucker and Butcher in the living room, the former looking around in shock as the latter’s gaze bounced between Ben and Her with a half grin.

“Don’t tell me you two started bloody fucking,” he jeered, and Ben didn’t appreciate the speed at which She scoffed.

“Not everyone only thinks with their downstairs brain, Butcher.” She said with an eye roll. “We’re not children you had to put in a time out until we could play nice, we’re adults who found a common ground.”

“The common ground of fucking?” Butcher’s grin spread widely across his face. At the deepening of her glare, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t doubt you, Love, it’s Soldier Boy who can’t damn well breathe without his dick in something.”

Ben opened his mouth to defend himself, but She somehow beat him to the draw. “Well, Ben’s down to only trying to fuck me twice a day, and it’s the small victories like that which have kept us from killing each other.”

“Ben?” Cocksucker looked between them in befuddled horror. “Since when do you call him Ben?!”

She returned Cocksucker’s stare with a flat look Ben had seen many times and was glad to not currently be on the receiving end of. “It’s his name. I can’t say ‘Soldier Boy’ all the time, that’s a fucking mouthful.”

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Ben winked at Her, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he was met with only an eye roll.

Butcher chuckled, giving Her an amused smirk. “Not fucking, my puckered arsehole.” He paused, his teeth showing as his delight in his own words grew. “Or should I say, your puckered arsehole?”

Cocksucker choked on air. “I’m going to be sick.”

“If he throws up on the carpet, you can not make me clean it, Sunshine.” Ben snapped, eyeing Cocksucker with a grimace. “His weak, pussy stomach ain’t my problem.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s been worse messes in this room.” Butcher wiggled his eyebrows, and Cocksucker gagged again.

“There’s not much left after to clean,” Ben said with another smug look, unable to find it in him to care how his words fueled the accusations She so clearly wanted to rebuff. She’d live, and all the bitchiness she wielded like a weapon would hopefully circle around into admitting the clear attraction he knew she felt.

“What, you all dried up after forty years asleep?” Butcher sneered.

Ben scowled, taking a rough step in the man’s direction, the drum in his chest abruptly sounding in the distance of his ears. “You want to say that to my fucking face? I’ll show you how dried up I am—fuck!“ He lurched back as he felt a sharp sting on his arm.

She appeared at the side of Ben’s vision, Her fingers still smoking as she pointed at Butcher. “You. Never, ever make me visualize that again.” She scrunched her face in dramatic disgust. “And you.” She turned the finger to Ben. “He did ‘say it to your face’, stop being such a fucking baby. And both of you need to repeat everything you think in your head before you say it. We get it, your dicks are both huge, either suck each other off or put them away.”

“I second that,” Cocksucker mumbled, residual nausea on his face. “The shutting up thing, not the other part.”

“Thank you, Hughie. Now.” She gave Butcher a titled-head frown. “What’s the mission.”

“Don’t have to be a mission, Love, we could just be checking up on our two favorite-“

“Shut up,” She snapped. “Nobody has come to visit in two and a half weeks. And then, just after the news about Sister Sage, you two are suddenly, and I’m sure completely coincidentally, in our living room. So, what’s the mission?”

“How do you know about Sage?” Cocksucker, matching the surprise on Butcher’s face, asked.

“I have a phone, dummy.”

Ben looked around the room, trying to figure out where She could’ve possibly hidden a phone from him. “No, we fucking don’t.” He narrowed his eyes at Her, suspicion building in his chest as anger clouded his head. “Have you been fucking leaving without me?”

“When would I even have the time to leave without you?” She snapped.

“When you go to the fucking bathroom all the damn time for no fucking reason. If you’ve been lying to me-“

“Jesus Christ, I was on my period the past week. You can come do an inspection of the toilet bowl next time if it’s that important to you.”

“Fucking,” Butcher faked coughed to poorly cover his words. Ben was sure a deaf baby would’ve still have understood them, and She certainly did.

“Can it,” She shot at Butcher before turning back to Ben. “Phones aren’t big blocks on walls anymore, grampa, they look like this.” She pulled out a weird black rectangle and waved it in his face. “And you’ve definitely seen one before, dumbass.”

If Ben thought back, admittedly not even that hard, he had. Cocksucker and Butcher had both used them the first time around, he’d spotted them in the shows and movies he had been making their way through at Her direction, and even seen Her using the one invading his personal space at that very moment. However, he’d known he’d eat a fucking whale dick before he asked Her what they were then, in the exact same way he was now going have to pretend that She was the stupid one trying to pull one over on him.

“I think I remember if I’d seen something that fucking dumb looking, Sunshine.” She just glared at him and turned away, so Ben decided to count that as a him victory.

“If one of you doesn’t tell me what the plan is now-“

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Love, we’re getting there. Hughie?”

“Gross,” Cocksucker muttered, his scrunched face of disgust turning into shock as Butcher pushed him forward. “What! Why me?”

“You use all those posh fancy words, mate.”

“He hates me!” Cocksucker gestured to Ben, before saying Her name in a pathetically begging tone. “He made you do it last time, right?! Tell Butcher he doesn’t fucking listen to me!”

Ben grinned as She gave Cocksucker one of the most half-assed apologetic looks Ben had ever seen. “I mean, he doesn’t. But I wouldn’t call him Butcher’s biggest fan either.”

“I’m right fucking here,” Ben grumbled. “I can speak for my damn fucking self.”

She gave him a sarcastic, simpering smile. “Ben, do you like Hughie, or Butcher? Is one prettier? Would one of them talking be better than the other?”

“No, they’re both ugly, pussy ass idiots who sound just as fucking boring as their pussy ass counterpart.”

“Who’s acting like who’s not here now?”

“We don’t sound the same at all…”

She ignored Butcher’s snark and Cocksucker’s weak protest. “Lovely. So if someone could answer my fucking question, that would be great. I, personally, couldn’t give a flying fuck who.”

Cocksucker sighed. “What did you read about the Sister Sage situation?”

“Is someone going to tell me who ‘Sister Sage’ is?” Ben grunted, giving Her an expectant look. Right now his best guess was some nun with plant-based powers, and he couldn’t think of a damn way that would be helpful.

“She's a supe whose power is intelligence. She’s the smartest person in the world, and a member of Homelander’s team.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she was. She got fired. I saw Vought’s press release about ‘creative differences’, but it’s painfully obvious bullshit. She made one appearance on TV where she spoke five words, most of the time she’d just hovering behind Homelander looking mad.”

“Yeah, we think she made Homelander upset somehow, which isn't hard to do, so he cut her loose.” Cocksucker nodded. “Either way, we want to try and talk to her. Flip her. Or-“

“Uncle Sam here is going to neutralize her.” Butcher spoke over Cocksucker with a smirk at Ben.

“Neutralize?” She looked between them with wide eyes. “Neutralize as in kill, or neutralize as in remove her powers?”

Butcher winked. “We’ll see where the night takes us. You two have fifteen to get ready, chop chop.”

She began to make her way up the stairs, but Ben remained firmly where he stood, glaring his best daggers at Butcher. “You better have brought my fucking shield this time.”

“What, you going to start crying if we didn’t?” Butcher jeered, and before Ben could move to punch him in the face, Cocksucker piped up from the side.

“Annie and MM are getting it now, they’ll meet us there.”

Butcher grunted in annoyance at Cocksucker’s affirming words, but Ben ignored it and turned to examine Cocksucker’s increasingly pallid face. His heartbeat was rising, yes, but it didn’t seem to be because he was lying, more likely the pussyfuck was just afraid. “Good,” Ben grunted, pausing to listen for a relieved stutter in Cocksucker’s chest. At the sound, Ben turned and marched up the stairs.

He wasn’t sure how it had happened, because he certainly hadn’t done it, but Ben’s suit had been cleaned of the dust and dirt from its last use. It was folded semi-neatly in his dresser, on top of underwear and socks. It was a quick change, he remembered being incredibly instant to the designer all those years ago that any needless, bullshit complications would lead to a forcerful reiterment and be fixed by their replacement, and made his way down the hall to Her door. He paused, unsure of if he should knock or simply walk in. He’d never knocked before, and She’d never bitched at him about it, but she’d also made it incredibly clear that, if he saw her naked, she’d “claw out his eyes like Jesus”. He’d asked for elaboration, in a way he thought had been quite fucking polite, and She’d left the room only to return a minute later with a copy of the Bible that was hurled at his head. Ben had not bothered to read it, but he quite liked his eyes, as did most women, so he had no interest in losing them to one impressively violent and crude one. However, knocking was also plain fucking stupid. As such he found himself just standing at the door, all the way until She opened the door and jumped back at the sight of him.

“Fuck, Ben, you scared me.” She’d placed a hand over her chest, fucking over dramatically if you asked Ben, and stared up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I was just waiting for you.” And he fucking had been. Originally, the plan that had brought him here was to make fun of Her for clearly cleaning his suit and certainly going through his underwear drawer, now it just felt fucking stupid. She’d just caught him standing outside her room, she had too much ammunition to use against him now.

She tilted her head at him, giving Ben a look he didn’t understand or like, but just nodded. “Well, I’m ready. We should go.”

He nodded, stepping aside for her to pass him. She blinked at him a moment before doing such, and only after she was starting down the stairs did it occur to him that he’d let her go first. She hadn’t even asked. But she would’ve, he reasoned. He’d just been saving the headache of Her whining about it. Really, it had been a calculated move from his subconscious, which hated her finding every nerve of Ben’s to get on just as much as the rest of him.

Butcher and Cocksucker were right where they’d left them when Ben reached the bottom of the stairs, and She made her way to Ben’s side as they exited the safe house. Her body was less rigid and alert than last time, her heart almost perfectly calm, and though her eyes didn’t once leave him, she wasn’t vigilantly scanning his every twitch as they walked to the car. Even this car ride was more relaxed than the last, with Butcher not checking on them every damn second in the mirror, Cocksucker looking less like he was about to shit his damn pants, and Her body comfortably in the seat and not curled into the door. Ben appreciated that it was a real, windowed car this time, because that stupid fucking van had been deafening and fucking stuffy and boring to sit in. This satisfaction was squashed almost immediately when they pulled up to a warehouse that looked one fucking well-placed shit from collapsing, and Ben saw that same stupid fucking van parked beside where they stopped.

The back doors were open, and Ben could hear four moderately steady heartbeats from inside it. As they unloaded out of the car and made their way to join the others, Ben watched Her out of the corner of his eye, hearing the telltale warning sign of gnawing on lips and tapping of fingers in rhythmic movements. He’d noticed last week, then had his suspicion confirmed during their fight a few nights ago, that all her rapid, tense tapping was still controlled, always following the same pattern. For the fucking life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out what the pattern was, but he knew it existed, and it always went hand in hand with glassy eyes. Sure enough, when he turned to fully look at Her, clouds were forming behind her gaze, which had itself gone slightly slack. But before Ben could grab Her, ask her what the fucking problem was, if it was something he needed to worry about, She’d walked past him to sit beside beside the small, Asian woman he’d seen several times before. The woman smiled at Her, and she returned it without hesitation. She said a name, Kimiko, in a soft, kind voice Ben had never heard and though Kimiko didn’t say anything—thinking about it Ben hadn’t heard her speak once—the tapping slowed to a halt as they began a weird half-conversation with a lot of confusing fucking gestures.

Ben glanced around the van, looking for his fucking shield. When he didn’t see it, he turned to glare at Butcher, who’d moved to talk to MM.

“Hey!” Ben pushed himself into their conversation, ignoring their whiny glares. “You promised my fucking shield.”

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Technically, Hughie promised it.”

“Where is it.”

“Calm the fuck down, Gov, I’m sure it’s here somewhere. MM, would you give the giant cunt his stupid shield?”

“Nope.”

Ben’s head whipped to glare at the man, who wasn’t even fucking acknowledging him. “Give me my fucking shield.”

“Can’t,” MM said, meeting Ben’s glare with an angry, cold one of his own. “Didn’t fucking bring it.”

“I was promised I’d get my shield back. If you pussies can’t get it, I’m certain I could fine someone who will.” Ben threatened, the drums starting to sound once more. “I don’t have to put up with bullshit-“

“Yeah, you do,” Her voice called from behind him.

Ben turned to look at her, and saw Butcher and MM do the same.

“This doesn’t concern you, Sunshine.” Ben snapped.

She just shrugged. “You want a private conversation? Lower your fucking voice. And I feel like any conversation where you start saying you’re going to leave does concern me, because I’m the one that’s going to have to smite your face when you try. And that’s just going to be a fucking bummer.”

“My face too nice to burn?” He taunted, barely noticing the fade of the pounding against his chest.

“No, I just would have to fill out a fuck ton of dogshit CIA paperwork after. So just suck up being away from your blankie for another week, and sit the hell down.”

“I don’t have a fucking blankie,” Ben scowled at Her, but she only smiled back at him and returned her attention to Kimiko.

“You heard her,” Butcher sneered from behind him. “Listen to your mommy and sit the fuck down.”

“Don’t make it weird, Butcher.” She called, not looking back at them for a second.

Ben turned to give Butcher one last, venomous glower. “If I don’t get my fucking shield next time, we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

“We’ll get you your shield, Gov, don’t loose your damn mind.”

Ben grunted, turning to take the seat next to Her, but carefully listened to Butcher and MM’s hushed whispers as he moved.

“Bloody hell, MM, you had one fucking job.”

“I am not helping him, Butcher. Don’t send me to do your damn dirty work.”

Butcher scoffed. “I’ve had you do much dirtier work, mate. This was a fucking cake walk, and you still fucked it up.”

“I’m going to tell you one last time, and it better get through your thick, dumbass head. I am not doing anything, fucking anything, for that racist piece of shit.”

Ben opened his mouth, subtle eavesdropping was a fucking overrated pussy move anyways, to defend himself. Collateral damage fucking happened, it wasn’t his fucking fault Vought was always sending him-

“What’s the big deal with the shield?” He heard Starlight mutter behind him, a question clearly addressed to Cocksucker.

“Dunno, but he was really weird about it last time, almost threw me out a window cause I touched it-“

“I can fucking hear you,” Ben twisted roughly to face them. “What is it with you pussies and pretending I’m fucking deaf?”

Starlight sighed, giving him an annoyed glare, as Cocksucker responded weakly.

“We just, we don’t think you want to talk to us-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben grunted.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Starlight’s eyes started to glow, and Ben rolled his own in response.

“Fucking try it, Bitch, I’ll blow you back to Vought. If you have a question, fucking ask it.”

“Fine,” Starlight held Ben’s anger with her own. “What’s the big deal with your shield? Are you compensating? Do you get performance issues without it?”

“Annie,” Cocksucker’s heart had picked up, and he was grabbing Starlight’s arm tightly. “Don’t make him mad.”

A thousand, perfect insults pushed against Ben’s head. Fucking amazing hits that would have Starlight crying to Cocksucker for weeks. But he could hear Her heartbeat behind him, stuttering for only a second as she listened to the argument. He heard that rhythmic tapping again, and so he pushed the words down, and gave Starlight a taunting sneer.

“Listen to your little cocksucker.” Ben taunted. “I’ll let it fucking go this time, because I’m feeling fucking generous. But next time? I kill both of you pussies.”

Ben turned away, and once his back was fully to them, he pulled out the crumpled list that now always sat in his pocket, trying to figure out if She had added “broad” at any point. While the bottom was filled with Ben’s own scratchy, hastily written additions, the top to middle of the paper was written in her neat, clipped handwriting, and close to the top was the sentence loose broad with the doll face - Buttercup from the Princess Bride??? Ben frowned at it—why couldn’t She have underlined the word—and leaned to the side, nudging Her shoulder with his own. When she didn’t turn from her soft conversation with Kimiko—how She could possibly be so invested in a conversation with a woman Ben was pretty fucking sure was mute was beyond him—Ben shoved it under her face.

Her voice died off, hands pausing mid-air, and she slowly turned to stare at him. “What are you doing.”

He pointed roughly to the sentence. “What does that mean?”

She squinted, grabbing it from him to hold closer to her eyes. “I was probably confused why you’d call Buttercup that. She’s famously not loose for like, the whole story-“

“No,” he tugged it back. “Why did you write that sentence down? What’s so bad about ‘loose broad with the doll face’?”

Her lips quirked up. “That’s what’s so urgent?”

“Is it loose, or broad?” He ignored her amusement.

“I think both together. Loose isn’t great, but I’d be lying if I said I never called my mother loose. Broad is just…” She frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard the word ‘broad’ out the mouth from anyone who doesn’t have an active memory of at least one world war.”

“So broad is fine?”

“If you want to sound a thousand, sure. I’ve definitely heard you say worse.”

Ignoring the age jab, Ben locked and loaded his next insult for Starlight. He would let the “compensating” comment go, he was forgiving like that, but there was no fucking way she wouldn’t say something else soon. And he’d be fucking ready for it. He shoved the list back into his pants, where it had stayed since he first caught Her using it. At first it had been going to take a one way ticket down the toilet, but then he’d noticed how when he used those words on the paper, She’d frown and not talk to him for a damn hour. It was a fucking annoying, inconvenient, bitch move because during that time she wouldn’t laugh at his jokes or tell him how stupid modern technology in movies worked or bombard him with annoying comments that made him want to grab Her pretty, taunting, insufferable face and teach her some manners. She’d just be quiet and mad, and it was like he was alone, and suddenly he would hear the drum. So he’d kept the list and, whenever he noticed the bitter silence showing its ugly head, he’d write down what coxed it out. Eventually She’d noticed, and started to help him. If it hadn’t proved an effective strategy to keep her off his ass about stupid fucking shit, he’d have lied up, down, and sideways about keeping it. But they hadn’t had any of those moments he’d grown to detest since she had, so he’d kept in his bitterness about the stupidity of the whole thing in check and counted this a win.

“Look alive, fuckers.” Ben looked up as MM stood, one of those alleged “phones” in hand. “Sage will be here in five minutes. She’s agreed to meet me, Starlight, and Hughie. Frenchie and Kimiko, I want y’all outside, nearby, and ready in case she’s pulling one over. Butcher, go home.”

“Nah, mate. I’m a part of this, Mallory said so. Could make me go home if you tickled my balls and topped me off.”

“Well, then you’re going to have to stay in here.” MM turned as he said Her name. “You’re staying in here with Soldier Boy. If we need you, you’ll hear the signal.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “What’s the signal?”

“The Deep’s massive tits.” MM gave a tired exhale as Her mouth fell open in amusement. “Frenchie made the signal. Make sure they,” both Ben and Butcher receive rough jabs in their direction. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Before either Ben or Butcher, whose mouth and protesting words had somehow begun faster than Ben’s own, could argue, MM was following the rest of the already mobilized team out of the van, and the doors were slammed behind him.

Tense, angry silence was in the air for only a minute before Butcher spoke.

“Now that everyone’s gone, will you two admit you’re fucking?”

Her heartbeat picked up slightly, and Ben leered at Butcher.

“Watch it, Dick Van Dyke, I’ll cut your fucking face off.” From beside him, Ben heard Her snort. “What do you find so funny?”

Ignoring his angry look, She gave another small giggle. “I don’t think that insult is as good as you think, Ben.”

“It was a fucking amazing insult-“

“Dick Van Dyke is American.”

“No, he was in all those stupid fucking British movies, like that one about the magic fucking nanny-“

“You’ve watched Mary Poppins?” Butcher laughed, and Ben considered ripping off his lips and feeding them to him. One bitchy, melodramatic woman who constantly cut off his words was more than enough. He didn’t need another fucking asshole, whose comments were not nearly as unwelcomingly entertaining, doing the same.

“Only because your hound dog bitch threatened to burn off my fucking dick if I didn’t.” Ben grumbled, and She gave another laugh.

“You enjoyed it, you cunt. And you told me a story about how you met Dick Van Dyke in the 60s. When he was, as he is now, incredibly American.”

“Sunshine, are you going to let me defend your honor or not?”

“My honor?” She gave him a face of giddy disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He said we’re fucking!” Ben waved wildly at Butcher. “I’m not going to let him talk about a lady like that-“

“You literally goaded him on barely an hour ago. And called me a ‘hound dog bitch’ like, five seconds ago.” She pointed out. “Even if that wasn’t true, you’d have a whole lot of misplaced faith that I have ‘honor’ to begin with.”

“I don’t think you’d know honor if it ate you out ass to cunt.” Butcher made an exaggerated face of thought, and was met with only a flat look.

“So taint? Ass to cunt as in taint?” Her voice was bored, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Butcher shrugged. “No lady with honor knows the word taint.”

“Then we’re lucky I lost the title of ‘lady’ years ago,” She said with a toothy, fake smile. “And you,” a glare was shot at Ben. “Are not helping the ‘we’re fucking’ allegations by defending my honor, dumbass.”

He wasn’t, he knew that. But her heartbeat had settled, no longer clawing into Ben’s brain, so he just grunted. “Fuck me for trying to help.”

“I won’t,” she smirked. “That’s the whole point.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt. Butcher,” She turned away from Ben once more. “What time did MM say Sage would arrive?”

“He didn’t.” Butcher answered, making an angry face at the closed door. “Something about not trusting us to stay here.”

Just then, Ben’s careful ear on Her heartbeat, which had slowed fully in the past minutes, was distracted by steps, followed by voices.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet us.” A man’s voice, too low to be Cocksucker, had to be MM.

“Well, even though I know what you’re going to say, I’m still intrigued by how you plan to say it.” Ben didn’t recognize that one. It sounded calm and controlled like Hers usually was, but only had the edge of anger. Her voice was always lined with vague amusement, at everything all the time. This woman didn’t sound like it was capable of laughter, even mockingly.

“Well, if you know what we’re going to say, can you just tell us your answer now?” That one was self-righteous and insufferable. Starlight.

“No.”

“Is that… your answer to what we’re going to say or whether or not you’ll tell us now?” Unsure, nervous, pathetic. Cocksucker.

“The later. I’m not going to tell you the answer until everyone joins us. Do you think I’m fucking-“

“Ben?” A pair of fingers snapped in his face.

Eyes refocusing, Ben realized She had moved so he was face-to-face with her concerned glare and frown watching him carefully.

“If that cunt fucking blows his bloody lid, I’m going outside, MM can suck my-“

Ben scowled at Butcher over Her shoulder. “I’m not going to fucking explode. I have a fucking handle on it-“ She gave Ben an incredulous look that he ignored. “And I’m trying to listen, so shut the fuck up so I can listen to what those pussies out there are saying.”

“You can hear them?” She dropped back to her seat, leaning forward with an intent stare. “What are they talking about?”

“I could tell you if you would shut the fuck up.” He grunted, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t move back. Ben paused, no longer hearing voices at all. “They moved.”

Butcher pushed off the wall. “What do you mean they moved? The fuck did they go?”

“I can’t tell you if you don’t shut-“

The door of the van was pulled open, and Ben jumped to his feet, hearing Her heartbeat start to rise as she did the same. But, instead of the blood and chaos Ben expected, was ready for, a short woman with a gleam in her dark eyes stood on the other side.

“Butcher, you look just as shitty as I expected. Should’ve listened to MM about staying behind.” Her voice was the cold, methodical one. Ben hated it, and hated how it matched her smug, stone-like face.

“If you’re as smart as you claim to be, Sister, you should know I do what I bloody want.” Butcher gave the woman a hateful, mocking smile.

She just gave a small nod back. “Well, I am ‘as smart as I claim to be’, and you are ‘doing what you want’. Reliable as always, William.” Her gaze turned to Ben. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you, Soldier Boy. I knew they would be going for some sort of Hail Mary, and even though I was hoping for something more intelligent, maybe flipping Neuman, this will work fine. And you…” Her voice trailed, and a disarming smile grew across her face. “I don’t know you. I know everybody.”

Behind Ben, Her heartbeat was like thunder. “Glad to be an exception to such a weird and creepy rule.”

“Who are you? No, wait.” Sage titled her head. “I want to guess.”

The tapping had begun, and the drums had started their march from Ben’s chest to his head.

“You’re not Butcher’s friend, he doesn’t have any. You’re not CIA… not Vought. Not with Nueman, she wouldn’t be that stupid. I’ve seen pictures of all the supervillains Homelander tried to make, and-“ A first, true smile split across Sage’s face just as Her heartbeat became deafening. “Oh! Interesting. That hit a nerve, but how?”

Ben stepped forward, fists clenched, as Sage’s eyes scanned Her closely. “I don’t know what kind of big shot you think you are, but I’d shut the fuck up now before I make your mouth fill up with blood.”

“I’m good,” she gave Ben a sideways look. “Although that’s also interesting. Now, you aren’t military, or a terrorist. You don’t seem quite as idiotically rage-blind as the others, you might even be intelligent. Or, well, intelligent by human standards.”

“You going to keep shooting in the dark, and waste all our time?” Her voice had moved closer, and Ben knew he’d only have to turn his head slightly to see that glassy-eyed stare focused on Sage, who only hummed.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry about that. My shot in the dark has floodlights compared to yours. But time is a finite resource, especially now. You just have to come on out to join the party, and we’ll get started.”

Ben twisted to find Her exchanging doubtful looks with Butcher, who spoke first.

“How do we know you ain’t just killed them, and are luring us out to finish the job?”

“Because that’s fucking stupid.” Sage said with an annoyed frown. “And I’m frankly a little insulted you think I'd do something that plainly dumb. You would’ve heard it. In fact, Soldier Boy can probably hear them, alive, right now. I just told them to stay there and be quiet or I’d start screaming about Starlight trying to kidnap and traffic me. People would hear me, we’re at a warehouse in Queens, not fucking Montana.”

Ben gave an eye roll as all eyes turned to him. “Why do I have to fucking check? There’s a goddamn window right there. Just fucking look outside. Or those pussies can just grow some fucking balls and tell us they’re alive.”

“Ben,” Her voice was tired, and he could still hear the pressure of her heart against her ribs. “You can hear them anyway. Just fucking tell us, please.”

“Fine,” he grunted. He could hear them anyway, so he gave a tight nod after making a whole stupid fucking show of listening for signs of life, but fuck him if this was going to become a regular thing. Ben was not, threat of dick-burning be damned, going to be reduced to recon.

But Her stopped trying to claw out of her when he confirmed Sage’s words, and Ben felt an odd, satisfying rush through him when he heard it.

“Can we move?” Sage stepped aside with an exaggerated sweep of her arm.

Butcher left first, and before Ben could follow, a hand grabbed his arm. He turned back to see barely-contained panic on across Her face—panic he could feel with the tightening of her grip.

“Sage can’t know,” She whispered to him. “Don’t tell her.”

“About what?” Ben frowned, trying to ignore where she still held his arm. Firmly. Unflinchingly.

She didn’t even pull back as she spoke. “Me. If she knows about me, she’ll tell Homelander. He’ll know I’m in New York. He’ll know I’m working with Butcher. He’ll find me and bring me back. Don’t tell her.”

Disturbingly, it wasn’t only the angered acceleration of her heart eating at Ben. It was realizing that her face wasn’t full of panic. It was fear—real fear—in her eyes. He’d never seen her just afraid. He’d seen her infuriated and nervous and exhausted but never simply, rawly afraid. He didn’t like it. She hadn’t become that hollow shell he’d seen at the beginning, or that unbearably tragic picture, looking far away as she told him about Homelander. She was just as unbendable as he knew her, but paralyzed. Made of only pure, useless fucking fear.

So he meant every fucking word he spoke. “I won’t. We’re not going back there.”

“We?” She didn’t let go, her face unreadable.

“I’m not going back in the fucking box, you’re not going back to that pussy Homelander. I’m going to kill them, and you’re going to let me leave. That was the fucking deal.”

She nodded, glancing down at her hands on his arm, and her hold on him loosened. “That was the deal.” She echoed, and walked past him without another word.

They stepped out onto the street and began to follow Sage into the warehouse, Butcher’s Pussysquad walking ahead of them. The moment Ben was at the door, MM turned, raising a flat palm to halt him. “No, you stay right fucking there. You are not a part of this.”

“I’m not listening if he’s not.” Sage said smoothly, looking Ben up and down.

“Great, you two can bond over hating convenient conversation.” She muttered from next to Ben, glaring a hole in the floor.

“Fuck off, Sunshine. I’m charming and endearing, not a bragging, self-assured bitch.” He muttered back as the argument about where he should stand stretched on for far too fucking long.

“You are the most braggadocios, self-assured bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I’m not the bitch that just used ‘braggadocios’ in a sentence like an asshole pussy.”

“At least I know the word at all. I think you came out of the womb knowing only pussy, bitch, and fuck and decided that was more than enough.”

“You sound like a fucking bitch right now.”

“You sound like a cunt who wants to fuck his mirror all the time.”

Ben looked back down to see a thin-lipped, but painless, smile creeping across her face. “One day you should ask my mirror how it is. I’ll receive a fucking amazing endorsement, and you’ll beg me to give you a fucking chance.”

“Endorsement’s a pretty big word, pretty boy. Are you sure you don’t need to sit down now?”

He did a double-take. “Did you just fucking call me pretty-“

“Oi, either fuck right now or come and do your fucking jobs.” Butcher yelled from inside, the argument apparently over with a victory for Sage.

“Please don’t fuck right now,” Cocksucker mumbled, and She rolled her eyes, leaving Ben’s side to stand amongst the group.

“I think I’ll manage to keep it together.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone and was painted across her face, but she didn’t flinch away as Ben came up behind her.

Sage was eyeing Her still, and Ben liked the woman less by the second. Even as Starlight spoke, Sage’s attention didn’t move, remaining locked on Her as if trying to pick her apart.

“We know how Homelander screwed you, Sage. He’s screwed all of us.”

“Screwed feels like a bloody generous term for ass-fucking to completion and then cutting off our balls.” Butcher muttered.

“Butcher,” Cocksucker sighed. “Unnecessarily gross.”

“I don’t know,” the French Prick, having apparently re-joined the group when Ben hadn’t been paying attention, mused. “The visualization helps.”

Cocksucker gaped at him. “How?”

“Well, either way-“

“It raises the stakes, no?” The French Prick cut off Starlight, a look of impossibly genuine concentration on his face. “Screwing is gentle, possibly playful. Monsieur Butcher's words make the issue far more…” As he searched for the words, Kimiko made another weird fucking gesture, and a smile spread across the French Prick’s face. “Oui, Mon Coeur. Fucking urgent. Far more fucking urgent.”

“Great, more urgent.” Starlight blinked, clearly giving a pathetic attempt to regain control. It was glorious for Ben to watch. “Now, we think-“

“It was still gross, things can be urgent and not gross.” Cocksucker frowned at the French Prick.

“Hughie,” Starlight hissed.

“Shit, sorry Annie-“

“No, petite Hughie, the gross nature of the words is what makes them so urgent.” The French Prick argued. “It makes them more difficult to ignore.”

MM gave an attempt to push back that didn’t involve nearly enough shouting or threats for Ben’s taste. “The words don’t matter, now just listen to Annie-“

“Words fucking matter, Mate." Butcher interjected. Ben agreed, if they didn’t then the whole stupid fucking list would have been for nothing.

“Not right now, Butcher, right now all that matters is we listen to Annie-“

“Well, Butcher’s technically right. Words do really fucking matter.” She chimed in from Ben’s side. “Language is a pillar of culture, and different words will have the same translations but different meanings across cultures.”

MM gave Her a disbelieving stare. “You too?”

“What words have different meanings across cultures?” Cocksucker asked, sounding somehow genuinely interested.

“More often than not, it’s symbolic changes, such as colors and animals having different connotations or there being a wide variety of words for one language that only has a few.”

“This can’t wait?” Starlight asked, throwing MM a hopeless look. Ben hoped it couldn’t. As utterly boring as the words coming out of Her mouth were, he’d never seen her so enthusiastic about something that wasn’t a piece of media to be explained. Her heartbeat was rising, yes, but it was beating like a drug, not a gun, against Ben’s head. This, this was tolerable, and if Starlight fucking stopped it he might have to kill her.

It was MM though, who said Her name firmly. As she trailed off, he looked at her with raised eyebrows and a frown. “You done?”

Ben could hear the chew of Her lip, and she nodded apologetically, shooting a nervous look to where Sage was watching Her with narrow eyes. If Ben was smart about it, he was pretty sure he could kill Sage, MM, and Starlight in one move. Unfortunately, that would probably make Her all bitchy and angry at him, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. Maybe he could make it look like an accident.

“Great,” Starlight sighed. “Sage, Homelander has fucked all of us.” Butcher gave an approving grin as Starlight threw him a dirty look. “He needs to be stopped.”

“And what makes you think you can stop him? You’ve tried numerous times, and every attempt has blown up in your face more spectacularly than the last.”

“We have a plan.” Starlight said, standing up straighter.

“Then you don’t need me.”

“That’s what I fucking said.” Butcher grumbled.

“But they didn’t listen to you, which means whatever you’re trying isn’t a revenge-blind, foolish Butcher special.”

“Love, if you’re implying I’m a fucking idiot-“

“Wasn’t implying. Outright said it.”

“We can still bloody kill you-“

“Butcher,” MM said with a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Well, I ain’t bloody wrong. Her power is ‘smart’, she’s not a fucking threat. We got the real threat on our side.” Butcher gave Her a wide, smug grin.

Right at Ben’s side, She froze.

“The ‘real threat’?” Sage asked, and turned slowly to examine Her once more.

“Soldier Boy,” MM said, looking between Her and Sage. “You know what he can do. We didn’t bring him back for nothing.”

“No, but you did bring him back… Why?” Sage wondered aloud, and Ben could hear the insufferable gears of her bitch brain turning. “Because you had the real threat. Not him, something worse.” Sage’s mouth turned up just the gleam in her eyes returned. “The Anomaly.”

“I- what are you- I don’t know what-“ Ben didn’t need to see Her eyes to know that the fear had returned. It was in every word She spoke, and he wanted to rip it out of her and shove it into Sage. “You don’t- I don’t-“

“He told me you died. Horrible accident, fourth shot of V didn’t take, and you combusted. I knew he was lying, I just thought he’d decided he wanted more secrecy and moved you, killed you himself, or you’d escaped and were on the other side of the world. Very, very stupid of you to come back.”

“If you know what happened to her, you should know what a fucking monster Homelander is.” Starlight said. “You should listen to what we have to say.”

“Not interested anymore.” Sage gave a dismissive gesture, another fucking smile creeping onto her features. “The Anomaly, alive and working with Starlight and Butcher? Working with Soldier Boy? This is good, this changes things.”

Ben braced his arms at his side, his anger feeding into the beat against his chest, moving forward as She took a weak, stumbled step further behind him. “You listen, or lose your fucking life.”

“I think I’ll just go. I had a much more dramatic reveal, but you have been set up, and this building is surrounded.” Sage sighed. “I would say I wish I could’ve played into the theatrics you all love a little more, but I’m actually incredibly fucking relieved I don’t have to. I’ll see everybody soon, and good luck with whatever you’re planning. I’m sure it will be entertaining.”

Before Ben could give in to the drums, or even more to grab her, the warehouse was flooded with men in black suits.

“Fuck,” Butcher shouted, pulling out a gun from thin fucking air. “What’s the point of having a super-hearing supe if you can’t fucking hear a warehouse full of enemies?”

“Sound-suppressing suits,” the French Prick yelled, taking a step behind Kimiko as he too pulled a weapon from nowhere. “I was developing them with the CIA, Vought must have gotten their fucking hands on them.”

MM pulled out his own gun, and Ben was now pretty fucking sure they were all keeping them up their asses. “Does Mallory know about them?”

“Oui, but they must have just gotten their hands on them, I finished them only two days ago.”

“When we made the fucking plan to meet with Sage,” Cocksucker had, like the cowardly pussy Ben knew him to be, moved behind Starlight. “But she can’t have known we had Soldier Boy, why would she spend time to get them?”

“Sage is nothing if not careful,” MM fired up at the descending men. “We need to get out of here, right fucking now.”

The words had hardly left MM’s mouth when the warehouse lit up with bullets.

“Are you just going to let Sage fucking get away?” Ben yelled, remaining firmly planted where he was, bullets bouncing off him like rain.

“Excuse us, Gov, not all of us are bloody immortal. And we quite like living, so shut the fuck up and be useful.” Butcher ran past Ben, firing back as he did.

Ben scowled at nothing, punching one of the men backwards like a bowling ball when he got too close. “She’s going back to Homelander, that feels pretty fucking important-“

“The doors are fucking blocked!” Cocksucker’s shrill, pussy yell cut Ben off. “They’re everywhere!”

“Then move them, you fucking pussy!” Ben threw another up into the ceiling.

He felt fucking alive. All around him, Butcher’s team was being the most useful they’d ever need in their pathetic pussy lives. The French Prick was holding something weird and long that Ben would very much like to use later, Butcher and MM were firing with an intent to kill that Ben appreciated, Kimiko ripped off a man's head with ease, and Ben was starting to hate her a little less than the rest of them. Even Starlight and Cocksucker were vaguely helpful, even if Starlight was mostly invested in keeping Cocksucker and his weak punches safe. It was fucking perfect, right until  Ben threw another man into the wall, leaving a dent in the concrete, and saw Her.

She was right where they’d left her, smoking but not yet burning, men trying to grab her but falling back with screams as they did. Her bloodless, frozen face was trained on where Sage had stood, and despite the chorus of gunshots and shouting through the warehouse, her heartbeat was as loud as if Ben were right next to her. The tapping was fast—faster than he’d ever heard it, her eyes were unblinking and glazed, and blood was dripping from her lips as she chewed through skin.

She was going to fucking blow.

Another man, in almost slow motion, grabbed Her. But not on the arms or shoulder like the others had attempted. Right on the fucking neck. Ben watched as the idiot's hand landed on Her throat, watched her eyes widen and clear, and watched the man let out an undignified, pussy-like shriek as he recoiled back. But it was too fucking late. The smoke stopped, for only a second, and Ben could’ve sworn the ground fucking shook.

Everything went up into flames.

“Fuck!” Ben heard MM roar from somewhere behind him. “Everyone out! Get the fuck out!”

Ben sent another man flying back, directly into the fire, as he kept his eyes on Her. Still frozen, eyes no longer clouded, looking almost fucking oblivious to the flames around her. She didn’t seem to be burning anymore, only standing in the fire that had burst from her. Her eyes were full of that fear again, shooting upwards as the first piece of the roof fell down with a crash.

“The doors! Open the fucking doors!”

Ben turned to find Butcher shouting as Kimiko and MM struggled with the warehouse entrance. Ben glanced back at Her, but his line of sight was cut as another piece fell. Somehow, over all the noise, Ben heard Butcher once more.

“Soldier Boy, get your cunt ass over here and be fucking useful. Open the fucking doors!”

Ben grabbed one of the idiotic men who hadn’t either burned or tried to scramble away, throwing him directly to the warehouse door. The man shot right through the building, clearing a hole to the outside with a crunch. In the momentary shocked silence of the groups struggle, fire crackled, and another piece of the warehouse fell.

“Out!” Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw MM practically push Cocksucker through the hole. “Now! Get out!”

Ben stared at the hole, Her heartbeat ripping into him. He could leave her. The building would fall, and he could fucking run in the time it took to pull her out. He could be fucking free, ahead of schedule, no killing Homelander and saving a stupid fucking world full of backstabbing pussies required. They’d find another way to kill Homelander, or not. It wouldn’t be his problem. Ben couldn’t even see her through the smoke and debris anymore. It would be so fucking easy to leave, kill Butcher, and escape.

But Her heartbeat wouldn’t fucking stop. It would keep going and going into his head. And the drum hated it, every time it sank into him, it fed the fucking drum.

He wasn’t moving. He needed to fucking move, or they’d realize his plan and try and knock him out. He wasn’t going back in the fucking box.

And She wasn’t going back to Homelander.

“Fuck!” He yelled at no one, partially hoping she’d just walk out, or someone would call him forward. But all the team had left them, and now the warehouse was just Ben, Her, and a bunch of ill-fated Vought shit-eaters.

Ben turned, throwing the wreckage as he did. It probably wasn’t helpful to the general state of the building the way he did so, but he wasn’t in the mood to be a fucking careful or gentle pussy. He reached Her, and found her passed out, face almost empty. If it weren’t for the sound of her breath, the still-quick flutter of her heart, Ben would’ve thought her dead.

“If you don’t become at least 10% less of a bitch after this Sunshine,” he grumbled at her unconscious body. “I’m throwing you right back in here.”

But he hauled Her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ignoring the way she seared into his skin, and walked through his previous path to the exit.

———-

The ride back from the disastrous mission made Ben want to blow everyone’s fucking brains out of their heads. There were weird looks, hushed questions about what happened that he had to pretend he couldn’t hear, and a whole lot of self-righteous, sad faces. It was made worse by the fact that She didn’t even wake up until they were fully back in the safe house, meaning Ben had to fucking carry her inside. Butcher offered, but Ben had just glared at him—as far as Ben was concerned, the dick just wanted to take advantage of one of the only “safe” times to touch her—and refused to even respond.

Ben dumped Her in her room, and marched back downstairs to find Butcher still in the fucking living room.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben grumbled, pushing past him to the kitchen.

“Well, I would usually tell your girlfriend, but seeing as she's taking a bloody little nap you’ll have to do.”

“She’d cut off your dick if she heard that,” Ben snorted. “Take it from my personal experience.”

“Good thing she can’t. Just tell her we’ll be back in a few days for operation Quick and Bald.”

"Operation Quick and Bald?" Ben huffed a sarcastic laugh. “I am not fucking saying those words.”

Butcher smirked. “Your head, Gov. See you in a few days.”

And Ben was left alone in the kitchen.

It took all the way to morning for Her to wake up. She stumbled into Ben’s room with a frown and a determined look.

“Teach me how to fight.”

Ben gave her a lazy half-grin from the bed. “Welcome back, Sunshine. Anything you’d like to say to me? A thank you, for instance. Though I would also accept acts of gratitude.”

“I’m not sucking your dick. Teach me how to fight.”

“I’m good. Not in my job description.”

She glared at him. "Technically, you don’t have a job. We’re not paying you. Teach me how to fight.”

“They’re not paying you either, Sunshine. We’re both victims.”

“I’m legally dead, they can’t pay me. And you’re the farthest thing from a victim, Mr. Body Count in the Thousands. Teach me how to fight.”

“No.” Ben had no interest in doing more for these fucking idiots. He’d already saved her life once in the past day, that should earn him enough fucking gratitude to coast for at least a damn month.

“Please, Ben, this can’t keep happening where I lose control, someone could really get hurt.” She rubbed her eyes in obvious distress. “People did get hurt.”

“So? Hurting people is what we do. You shouldn’t be in the field if you can’t fucking handle it.” Ben repeated the words he had so often told himself through the years. It had always fucking worked for him. She shouldn’t be any different.

“I can’t fucking handle it?!” She scoffed in disbelief. “That’s a mighty stupid thing for the pot to say to the kettle.”

Ben shot her a cold look. “I know how to fucking hold my own, Sunshine, I don’t need someone to fucking save me. You can’t fucking control yourself at all, and it’s a goddamn problem.”

“Nobody made you go back, you could’ve just fucking left me.” She hissed.

"Well, I didn’t,” Ben growled. “Don’t make me fucking regret it.”

“I could say the same for you. You’re only out of the box because I wanted you here-”

“Aw, Sunshine, you wanted me?” He mocked.

“I wanted your powers here. You’re just the vessel.”

“I saved your fucking life, bitch.”

“And I’m sure you’re not going to be a fucking cunt about that forever.”

“You need me.” He shot to his feet. “Don’t fucking forget it.”

She took a step forward, her face venomous. “No, you need me. What do you think happens if they decide I’m a ‘problem’ now, huh? They send me home, and just trust you not to go all revenge-fueled vigilante? If I burn, you burn, Ben. So fucking teach me how to not be a ‘problem’, or it’s your fucking head.”

He bared his teeth at Her. “If I teach you how to fight, will you stop being a fucking pussy and thank me for saving you?”

“Teach me how to fight, really fight and not just throw a punch, and I’ll buy you a fucking fleshlight.”

“What the fuck is a fleshlight?”

She gave him a mocking smirk. “Trust me, you’ll love them.”

Ben paused, examining Her face, angered but firm. “I want three of them.” He still wasn't sure what they were, but She had been frustratingly fucking accurate about what he would and wouldn't like.

“Deal.” She extended her hand, and he glared at it.

“If I hate them, you’re cooking me something.”

“You’d volunteer to be poisoned?” She laughed. “Your funeral, dumbass.”

He ignored her words, and shook her hand as aggressively as he could. “Meet me in the kitchen in three hours. I’m going to make you fucking cry.”

She grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Hey, Wayne said you refused to talk to the therapist.”

It was day 34 of visiting Eddie in the hospital, and there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. If Eddie would talk to the therapist, he could be released into Wayne’s care.

The therapist spent two hours with him, and apparently got nothing more than some sighs and eye rolls.

“I didn’t like him.”

“Well, we can get you another one.”

“I don’t like them either.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t even met them yet.”

“I just know I won’t,” Eddie said as he crossed his arms, hissing when he rubbed against the bandages still covering most of his torso.

“Do you want to stay in the hospital forever?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you just talk to the therapist? You don’t have to tell them everything, just how you’re feeling now.”

“I don’t want to.”

Steve was trying not to get frustrated. He promised Wayne he’d try to talk some sense into him patiently. It was proving to be harder than he thought it would be.

“What is it that you don’t want to tell them?”

“That maybe I did kill Chrissy! That maybe if she had just gone home or I told her no that she’d still be alive! Maybe Vecna would have gone to the next victim and I wouldn’t have to be here in pain!” Eddie was breathing heavily, his heart monitor beeping more rapidly the more he spoke.

Steve didn’t visibly react, though he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold Eddie, turn back time and pretend that it was possible that Chrissy wouldn’t have died, let Eddie live his life not knowing these horrors existed.

He wanted to be able to scrub the memory of carrying Eddie’s limp and bloody body from his mind so he could go back to his regular nightmares of him dying, not the man he-

“Sorry.”

Steve’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Eddie spoke his apology so softly into the room. It was a direct contrast to how he’d been before, and it was startling.

A thought occurred to Steve, one he hadn’t thought of in at least two years, but felt right now.

“You know, I used to be kind of friends with Chrissy. Not close, but we talked.”

Eddie stared at him curiously, probably wondering where this could be going.

“It was funny. It didn’t happen until I wasn’t popular anymore. I guess that just shows she was a great person.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“I remember I was sitting alone eating lunch. Jason and his crew weren’t there and she walked up to me and said ‘let’s be lonely together for today.’ And I guess that was our thing, being lonely together. It sounds stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me.”

Steve looked up and saw Eddie’s wide, wet eyes staring back at him, silently begging him to continue his story. Maybe he needed this.

“It happened a few more times and then we ended up hanging out a few times before graduation. We actually,” Steve paused and bit his lip. This would give a lot away and may end up making things worse for Eddie, but he wanted to believe it would help. “We bonded over our crush on you.”

He let it sit in the air for a moment, eyes refusing to look back up at Eddie.

Until he felt a hand on his.

“You both had a crush on me? Me?!”

“Don’t tell Robin, but she was the first person I came out to. Accidentally. And it wasn’t really coming out so much as admitting I thought you were cute.”

“You thought I was cute?!”

“Well, yeah! Always playing with your hair and doodling during class. Helping the freshman find their classes. Giving those speeches. You were brave.”

“Steve. That’s not bravery.”

“It is when everyone is willing to hurt you because of who you are.”

“I barely ever actually got beat up. Words are just words.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

Eddie nodded, swallowed, then sighed.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want anyone to feel like me.”

“That’s why we had a crush on you!”

“Well, that’s nice that you bonded over that.”

Steve didn’t like the sudden change in his tone. Like he’d liked hearing the story, but now he realized it didn’t matter.

And maybe it didn’t.

Chrissy was still gone. Eddie still had to watch her die a terrible death.

They were both still traumatized.

But Steve still had a crush on Eddie that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he repressed it.

And maybe that part of the story was something that could change for the better.

“Robin told me I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, she tells all of us that often.”

“But this is about something specific.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I never got over my crush on you. And instead of saying something about it, I just thought I’d forget about it eventually.”

Eddie blinked at him.

“Chrissy once dared me to ask you out. She said when you graduate, I should do it. Just take the risk.

She was pretty sure you were into both anyways.”

“She was right.”

“Yeah, she usually was,” Steve nodded. “But the problem here is you haven’t technically graduated yet.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You could, though.”

“Maybe.”

“But you have to get out of here first.”

“I see what you’re doing, Harrington.”

“What’s that?” Steve smirked and reached out to move Eddie’s hair away from his face.

“Bribing me to graduate with promises of a date.”

“Is it working?”

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. So you’ll talk to the therapist tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, I’m just hoping you choose you.” ——————————— When Eddie walked across the stage two months later to get his diploma, Steve was giving him a standing ovation.

He ignored his original plan of flipping off Principal Higgins, he didn’t want more eyes on him than he already had.

He ignored it because now he had a new plan. He was gonna walk off the stage, throw his cap in the air, and then kiss Steve Harrington.

Part 2: Prologue

[harmonictechnicality]

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. 

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one. 

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender. 

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers. 

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.” 

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.”  Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days. 

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating. 

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky. 

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes. 

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head. 

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer. 

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line. 

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused. 

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it. 

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.”  Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat. 

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching. 

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest. 

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body. 

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question. 

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him. 

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Four - That You Are

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my favourite so far

warnings: mentions of violence and blood, arranged marriage

song: That You Are - Hozier

You let your eyes wander. 

It was not a rarity for the king to request to dine in the gardens, though you don’t understand why he never has a tent put up so one might not suffer so much beneath the mid-day sun. 

It is still summer, the last inklings of it clawing uncomfortably at your dignity as you excessively fan yourself, just below the line of impropriety. 

Your sister has clicked her tongue at you multiple times now, in hopes that you might calm yourself, but you cannot and you will not relinquish your only means to cool down the tiniest bit. 

To your right sits Benji. Actually sits and does not lurk behind you or a few feet away, as your father, so very graciously had ordered him to take a seat and is now boasting over how smart the deal he made with the Brackens and the Blackwoods is and how only a true king could come up with such skilled thinking. 

You’re fairly certain that this could not have come from the little bit of dazed brain he must have left but nobody speaks out, least of all Benji, who simply nods and every now and then thanks the king. 

It’s all quite arduous to sit through and your mind keeps circling back to the end of town and wondering whether the medicine you had made in a hurry two nights ago was doing what it was supposed to do. 

Marion had gone bright red in the face when you had informed her of your indiscreet meeting in the dungeons but you cannot seem to muster up even an ounce of concern over having shared your secret with Benji. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

You allow yourself a stolen glance at him and this newfound sensation overwhelms you again. You cannot figure it out, incapable of identifying the strings that pull at your heart, but it has fluttered up ever since you had entrusted him with your concoction, grown stronger still, when he gave you a clandestine wink to inform you that everything had arrived safely and where it should be. 

Cordelia nudges you beneath the table. “Did you hear a word he just said to you?”

You frown. “Tristan didn’t say anything.”

“No, but father did. You are to begin a courtship with the young Lord Cathcart.”

Your heart drops to your feet, hand clutching onto your sister’s before you glance up to see a wide-smiled Lady Cathcart, her spider-like fingers curled around the king’s biceps. 

Just then your father lays his eyes upon you and smirks. “Is that not wonderful news? And your knight will be there to protect your honour throughout this. Before we know it, there will be more grandchildren roaming the world.” That last part he directs at his mistress, with a beyond disturbing wiggle of his brows. 

You look at Cordelia and Tristan, both of them blank faced. 

Benji swirls the wine in his cup from side to side and nobody speaks for an awfully long amount of time.

The other advisors at the table do not seem thrilled either. 

House Cathcart births unpleasant people, to put it quite kindly. Their Lady was a great example, an insufferable little parasite, clearly seeking to fuck her way into power and sparing nothing but ill-temper and rude words for anybody she does not view as important. 

She is an embodiment of sleaze, if one that has been blessed with wonderful teeth and hair. 

Her younger brother is not much different. You had heard the ladies of the court whisper about his disgusting lack of manners. 

“Father, might I remind you that I have many offers from much…,” you pause, contemplating whether you would actually like to speak your mind. “Well much more esteemed birth.”

Apparently your father has had enough of your face because he no longer makes the effort to look at you. “And yet, you have not enticed them. You will begin your travels to visit him tomorrow.” 

You desperately try to think of a young nobleman you would prefer to spend time with, yet your mind goes blank, your brain one continuous noise of a warhorn being sounded.

You let go of your sister’s hand and scrape your knife across your plate as the conversation resumed, occasional attempts of naming other highborn heirs, perhaps even from another kingdom.

Sure, you think to yourself, might as well remove me from the only home I know. Might as well let me be a cattle to be bred an ocean away.

“Your highness, I believe it is time for your dance lesson,” Benji says. 

Your head snaps up. It is not. 

He nods, the slightest bit, and then turns away. 

You are not certain, but you think the apples of his cheeks are tinted light pink. 

“I must be excused,” you say, as Benji already pulls out your chair for you. 

Cordelia and Tristan exchange a look that you wholeheartedly ignore and yet nobody else bats an eye.

A third-born daughter’s daily schedule is not of importance to them. 

In long strides you walk away from them all, with every inch of distance you can feel your heart cinching, breath shortening and by the time you’re inside the castle, you cannot see straight ahead.

“Hold on one moment, Princess,” he says and grabs your arm to push you down a narrow hallway, his arm around your waist the moment you are hidden from plain sight. Gratefully you lean your whole body weight against his, until you are back in your kitchen. 

With a swift movement you are sat on your chair, hunched over desperately trying to get air into your lungs, even stale and wet dungeon air, tainted by the stark smell of clandestine medicinal practice.

But you cannot. 

Your mother had died shortly after birthing you. Cordelia had struggled through every pregnancy, growing weaker with each child planted in her body and then clawing its way out. 

You think you might hurl. 

“Princess..,” Benji carefully mumbles. 

You try to see him through the blind panic and fury that clouds your mind but your eyes won’t focus, horrible images of what would happen to you. 

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp. 

He kneels in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Yes you can.” 

His voice is laced with uncertainty, as though he doesn’t believe his own words.

Firmly you shake your head. “No, get me out.”

He drags his thumb across the soft palm of your hand. “Out of where?”

Another sharp gasp. 

Here, this palace, this family, this kingdom, this world. 

“My corset,” you all but whimper. 

There is a moment of hesitation, where you cannot hear or feel anything but your own soft cries. 

Then he gets up and walks behind you. 

“My god, this thing is built like a trap,” he mumbles, rough fingers fiddling with your bodice. 

You might have laughed at that. 

It takes him long to help you out of it, revealing the fishbone corset, your hands now clawing at your neckline, praying for some sign of sweet release. 

He is taking forever, or maybe he is not but you have lost all sense of time and space.

Finally there is the sound of a barbaric rip and you are left in your linen shift, panting heavily.

You slump forward and bury your head in your hands. 

Unwilling to be seen, or look him in the eyes - eyes that are undoubtedly looking at you with nothing but pity. 

“Princess..,” he whispers again. You can feel one rough hand through the thin fabric as he circles around to your front.

You shake your head, like a child. “He can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

A soft touch against your wrists, softer than you had thought possible from him. “You’re a witch. Just put poison in his wedding night supper,” he says. 

You snort, an ugly sound, much unlike your usual demeanour. “You-” Hiccup. “Speak treason, Ser Benjicot.”

Carefully he interlinks your hands into one and pulls them from your face. Your forehead hurts from where you dug your nails into it. “You’re smart for a capital girl, you will manage.”

His face is kind and warm, a desire to make you smile clearly etched into the twinkle of his eyes.

“I won’t kill my husband. He is not at fault for my father’s failures.” 

Benji huffs. “And I am the one speaking treason.”

You hiccup again. “He is the king but he is my father no less. And he is horrible at both.”

His fingers sweep hair out of your face, unthinkingly, quickly. “His children turned out quite well either way. A benevolent queen, an honourable heir to the throne and a witch.”

Now he manages to make you smile lightly. “My god, what must a lady do for you to not tease her.”

“I would rather not say,” he answers, and you know there is a double meaning there but you don’t know how to decipher it. You have studied the human body but some things will lie beyond your book knowledge.

Until your bedding ceremony, that is.

Your face drops again and you lean back. “Have a seat somewhere, would you? I do not wish for you to crouch in front of me.” 

“I am your knight. Kneeling comes with this duty.”

You huff. “Does ripping up royal corsetry and sneaking potions into town also go along with it?”

He scrapes the chair across the floor and plops down beside you. 

The two of you sit, and though your eyes are set on the cauldron in the corner of the room, you know he is looking at you.

Perhaps he wants you to say that you feel better?

You decidedly do not, this is after all your deepest fear becoming reality.

Benji nudges the tip of his boots against your calf. 

Everything between the two of you is contrasting. 

“We will find a way. The counsel is against his choice as well, he may be the king but he is not a king at heart and soul.”

A deep sigh escapes you, hiccups slowly fading away.

 “Mayhaps he will be overthrown by the time we reach Lord Cathcart’s castle,” Benji adds. 

Would you want it that way? 

Yes. 

Yes you would.

You would not want him dead, you think, but you want Tristan to rule. You want your father to desert the throne and leave it for somebody capable and dignified. 

Somebody who has honour. 

“Won’t you cheer up, little witch. You still have Marion and me to come with you.” 

A hand flies to your mouth. Marion. “She won’t come. And even if she would like to, I will not let her. Her love won’t let her. Her life is here and her family and friends.” Your hands claw at each other, nervously digging into tender flesh. 

Benji hums. The weight of his oath must be a harsh burden to carry. He will never have a choice but to go where you go.

“I am sorry,” you whisper. “For it all. I know you hate it here.”

He shrugs and grabs your hand. To prevent you from scratching it bloody, you’re certain. 

“I am a man of honour and strength. I suppose it is best put to use for your protection. And the occasional smuggling and destruction of dresses far more expensive than my pay.”

You snort. “It didn’t suit me anyways. Made me pale.”

“Told you. I like red best.” 

He winks. “Like the colour of your cheeks turn sometimes.”

With little force you shove him, your fingers still securely interlinked. “Watch it, I’ll begin sobbing again, my knight.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had bid your goodbyes to everyone at dinner tonight.

A courtship, successful or not, could take many moons and this one is nearly set in stone to end in marriage. Your return home, for now, is a distant dream that you can’t put faith into.

Surprisingly many people had grieved over your farewell. 

Much of the courtiers and even more of the staff insisted that they would miss you. 

Cordelia did not leave your side the entire evening and repeated many times that marriage is less scary than one might expect and that for the most time, your husband would likely leave you be. 

Even Tristan, ever so calm at all times, had looked as though he might like to tie you up if that meant you got to stay and you couldn’t help the deep gratitude you felt for Benji’s consistent, calm presence next to you.

Though you couldn’t claim that you were not deeply embarrassed over how dishevelled he had seen you today, even after he had assured you multiple times that he did not care, as you snuck through the secret passageway back to your room, his cape draped around you. 

Marion had wept the most; her waterlike, bendy fingers preparing your hair for dinner, achieving perhaps her finest work yet. 

It seems sadness is the greatest motivator of the human mind, tears streaming down her face and yet leaving your hair in neat braids. She had apologised many times, that she could not go on this journey with you and that she would likely forever miss your generosity, something you felt she was inflating greatly. 

After all, she had risked her position and even her life every single time she snuck you in and out of the castle walls. 

Your fingers cramp around your quill.

Over the course of your meal, you have come up with a plan once again, though this one might be the most idiotic one yet.

You know that almost everyone with blood rushing through their veins inside this castle is opposed to this marriage and maybe there could be another way to get out of it, but you know it would take long and you will not let your father torture you in the mean time.

Droplets of ink stain your wrist as you scratch forcefully across the parchment. 

You are not dense. You had never tried to trick yourself into believing your betrothal would occur from a love match but you had always been able to comfort yourself with the fact that at the very least you were to do something useful to your family line.

Marry into another important house, a house of wealth or with a strong army. Something that would strengthen the crown and its representation in the kingdom. 

Colour drains from your face each time you think about this fate. 

You’d be ridiculed in the history books, married off to a Baron, the lowest of ranks anybody in your line had married into, ever since the claiming of the throne.

No, you must leave and you must do so quickly. 

Your finished letter remains on your pillowcase. 

Wrapped in your velvet robe you peek out of your door into the hallway where the nightwatch had taken Benjicot’s place a few hours ago. 

“Ser Lawrence. Ser Timon. I wish to not be disturbed during my last night in the castle. Any and all visitors must immediately be sent away,” you tell them.

“Yes, your highness.”

Satisfied you go to lock the door, but then quickly remember. 

“Ser Timon, please tell your cousin that he must reapply the bandage and salve everyday.” 

And with that you turn your back.

You switch your robe out for the most simple dress you own.

While Ser Rodrick had still been around, Marion had kept a better disguise hidden in one of the trunks beneath your bed, but when the change of protector was imminent, she had taken it back home, in fear of being caught. 

You slip into a hooded cloak, in hopes it might do more to keep your identity hidden, wrap a satchel filled with jewellery around your waist, in hopes to pay for travels.

You wish you could take your horse.

Fury is a good horse, in your humble opinion, the most empathetic and perfect companion one can ask for.

Weirdly, she reminds you of Benji, now that you contemplate it.

She looks scary; tall and black and when you had gotten her she was unruly and stubborn but that quickly faded.

A terrifying thought crosses your mind suddenly.

What would happen to Benji? If you were to disappear, would he have to die for it?

You halt in the middle of your room.

No.

That is not a price you are willing to pay for your freedom. You could not in good conscience be responsible for such an atrocity.

Maybe they would let him off the hook? After all there had been a deal made with the Blackwoods, perhaps his family would revolt? 

Would your father have his head still? 

And in mere seconds your last bubble of hope had burst and rained onto you in glittering glass shambles. 

Benji was tough to crack and a little rebellious but you won’t have his blood on your hands forever.

You gaze out the window, see the distant sea. 

But you could still sneak out. For one final night. Check on your medicine. Maybe you could find a tavern to spend time in.

Marion had always said that she loved nothing more than to dance with the common folks, telling never-ending stories of how much lively the music is than at your royal balls, how free and funny the people are.

Yes, you might not run away but for once in your life you would simply do what you wanted to do. 

You pull up your hood and slip into the narrow staircase behind your bookcase. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The streets were bustling, even after nightfall, people chatting away, merchants yelling from every corner, sounds of life buzzing in your ear.

You are smiling, weaving through the crowd. A stranger had handed you a daffodil, proclaiming his inn had the best hunter’s stew in all the kingdom.

Another had told you she could read your future from the palm of your hand, which you of course deemed ridiculous, but had let her do anyway.

She told you that you were destined for a great love. Ridiculous, but endearing in a peculiar way. 

Now you were hoping to find that tavern that Marion so loved to frequent. It was called duckling, or something to that extent. An odd name for a place where people go to drink and celebrate. 

But your feet carry you still, steps lighter than air. You had noticed that your boots were a tad too white, and had promptly walked through every possible puddle to blend in. 

It was exhilarating. You know your privileges and you know them well, but while all the rest of the nobles question how the people of lower birth could live like this, you wonder how you could have gone your life without this. 

Every path revealed something exciting. 

When you had snuck out with Marion, she had dragged you through quiet back alleys, to avoid as many people as possible, but now you wonder if she wasn’t also trying to keep you from being drawn into this magical world you are witnessing now.

A shoulder bumps you and you stumble a bit. 

“Oi watch where you’re going,” came a gruff voice and you almost want to laugh, heart melting at the vulgarity of it, but you have the good sense to not.

“I’m sorry, good man.” 

He grunts and goes to move along but then something catches his eye and he stops.

“Where you from?” He asks.

He has a strong build, tall and burly. You try not to let that worry and flash him a smile. “Arbormere.” 

The man steps forward. You don’t step back. Marion and Ser Rodrick had drilled into you for a long time, that fear is one’s worst enemy. 

“Are ya, now? I ain’t ever met a girl from over there.”

You shrug. “I am their queen’s handmaiden. She is visiting her family,” you lie, quick as the wind and then you decide that you should not remain in one place for so long, shuffling to step past him. 

He blocks the way and before you know it he’s grabbed your arm, with enough force to make you shriek in surprise.

You squirm beneath his grip, attempting to meet the eye of a passerby desperately but nobody seems to notice this scene playing out. 

“Let me go,” you order, with as much authority as you can muster.

With too much ease, you are ripped into a side street. It smells rotten and you close your eyes when the back of your head meets the cobbled wall. 

“Pretty girls like ya’self shouldn’t roam foreign streets,” he says. His breath smells acidic as it fans across the side of your face. 

“Help,” you croak out but you know it is of no use. There isn’t a soul here to hear you in this dark corner.

He squishes your face between one hand, thumb deep in the soft of your cheek. 

“Somebody should teach you a lesson, aye.”

“Yeah and somebody should teach you some fucking manners, you fucking cunt,” a voice rings. 

Benji.

Your face is freed from his grip and you rub where it hurts. 

“Piss off, lad. Ain’t none of your business,” the man tells him.

Something unfamiliar flashes across Benji’s face, a shadow of something sinister. 

Bloody Ben, you think. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he growls through clenched teeth.

He laughs at Benji, his arms crossed. “I’m not gonna fucking say it twice, boy. Piss–”

He can’t finish his sentence before Benji is on him, a disgusting sound of bones cracking as his fist connects with his nose. 

You yelp, a hand pressed to your mouth in an instant. This stranger is considerably larger than Benjicot, who himself could not be described as a slender man. 

The pair of them tumble to the ground and with every hit your sworn protector takes, you wince, as though you were feeling them yourself. 

Blood sprays across their faces, their hands, the hem of your shirt and you wish you could avert your gaze. 

Something glitters. 

“Knife,” you scream. “He has a knife.”

But Benji has already registered it. 

In a movement so smooth and quick that it was barely noticeable, the knife is stuck in the man’s hand.

He wails, guttural and gory and tries to crawl back. 

Your knight gets up from the ground, towers above him. “Get the fuck away.” Then, in an act so raw you are almost taken aback, he spits on him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the stranger staggers away, as fast as his delirious self can. 

There is a sickening swirl in your stomach and for a moment you think you will cry, but then good sense wins and you leap toward Benji.

Panic strains your voice. “Are you well?” You ask, gently inspecting his face. His nose is bleeding profusely. It stains your fingers, streams down to your wrist, thin red streaks across your skin and white linen sleeves. 

He nods. Distance clouds his eyes but then it is almost like he snaps back to this world. 

He flicks your hands away, and searches your face, the way you had done his. 

You grimace. He is clearly in much worse condition. 

“You fucking idiot. Don’t fucking ever frighten me like this again,” he whispers. 

“Do you know what could have happened? What you look like?”

He raises your hands to eye level. “Your hands are soft, you’ve not done work with them ever. Your hair shimmers, you walk like a fucking fairie and you reek of rose and lavender.”

With each word his voice raises to a whisper-shout. “Do you know how lucky you are that you weren’t recognised? How lucky you are that I got here in time?”

The tips of your ears run hot. “I just wanted-”

“What? To run away and die in a ditch?” 

You shake your head fervently. “No! I was going to return, I just forgot to rip up the letter! I didn’t mean to-”

He scoffs. “You’re lucky I was the one to find that thing. You’re the luckiest girl in the world, in fact.” 

Now there will likely be many moments in the future where you regret this moment but you cannot help yourself. “You call this situation lucky? I am lucky that I will be shipped off to be fucked by a disgusting little man for the rest of my life, be forced to bear his children, do as he pleases me to do, until the day I die? You think this is lucky? I would rather spend my time working every hour of every day of every week of every moon until my bones fail me.”

Benjicot comes even closer, the tips of your noses are almost touching. “Do not ever do something like this again. I will give you as much freedom as I can, but I suppose you did not plan to spend a night of freedom being defiled in some dark alley. Don’t you ever do this to me again.”

To him. 

“Understood?” 

He has engulfed your senses, speaking seems too hard a chore now. You nod. Is it normal for a knight to chastise his princess like this? 

“Good,” he whispers, but you don’t let him get away. 

You use the tissue tucked into your cleavage and dab at his nose. Crimson red stains the colour of house Aprikate. “I think I should set your nose.” Your voice is faint, like you’re worried you might scare him off, like some jittery woodland creature. 

“Hmm.” 

Your hand pulls away and your eyes lock. You swallow thickly. That new sensation haunts you again. 

Benji’s hand curls around the small of your back. 

This feels dangerous. You can’t bring yourself to end the moment. 

He does it for you.

“Let’s return to the castle.”

The air feels tense, new and vibrant the entire way home.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i straight up told my s/o they can’t bring their dog when they move in with me?

i (early 20s ftm) and my partner (late 20s nb) are moving in together next year. we’ve been planning this for a couple of years now, but it’s been taking a while to plan out because we live on different continents and we needed to sort out visas, travel, work situation, and getting an apartment for us for when they arrive.

importantly to this story, my s/o has a dog. this dog is large and VERY loud - barking 24/7 at everything, crashing into furniture, loud whining, pushing people over, and growling at people who get too close to s/o.; this has included me whenever i visit.

the apartment we got has a one pet policy and all of our neighbours are elderly people as the building used to be assisted living (basically housing for the elderly where they have direct lines to nurses and disability accommodations). it’s a pretty small block, it’ll just be us, one guy across the hall, one woman directly below us, and one across the hall from her.

because of this, as soon as we got the apartment we realised we wouldn’t be able to feasibly take s/o’s dog. she’s too big for the apartment, she’s loud enough that all of the neighbours will be hearing her at all hours, and there is nowhere nearby she’ll get enough exercise for her size. on top of that, she’d have to be in quarantine for 6 months once she’s here as is my country’s policy for pets travelling which doesn’t seem fair to her, and this is AFTER a 15 hour long plane ride where she’ll be alone.

i will admit that i have kind of selfish reasons for this as well. i’m autistic and i have both anxiety and c-ptsd on top of that, and all of those things are set off by loud noise, especially loud noise that is constant or repeated. even when i’m on the phone with them, their dog is always barking and hurting my ears and sending me into sensory overload, as is how loud they have to speak over her and when they shout at her to quiet down etc. when i visit i have to make excuses to leave or go somewhere else for a breather because within minutes i’m so drained and overwhelmed and upset just because of the dog’s insanely loud barking. i was also attacked by a large dog when i was very little and ever since then i’ve been wary around Big dogs, so although i want to work on it and i’ve been trying to (i love dogs), having one so big and jumpy be aggressive and growling at me makes me incredibly on edge.

s/o was sad because they really love their dog but ultimately agreed, on the condition we can get a cat instead as they’ve always wanted one but were never allowed. i agreed to that, i’m much more of a dog person and i’m a little sad we won’t be able to get one but a cat seems a fair compromise for them having to leave their dog and i don’t mind cats either, it will be easier to care for and hopefully just as cuddly!

so i thought that was all agreed on and done with

months later i mention looking into cats and they go “but wait! that means i cant bring my dog!” like this was the first time it had occurred to them. i was kind of caught off guard and was just like “…yeah, but we can get you your cat instead!” and the conversation kind of died out and moved on quickly

but ever since then they’ve been making little comments about bringing their dog and what we’ll do with her when we live together and it just… doesn’t seem to be sinking in that they cannot bring their dog.

i feel awful because like. i can’t emphasise enough how much they love this dog. they cuddle up together in bed, they’re always calling for her, always talking about her, always taking pictures of her. when they visit me they talk about missing her.

i know when it comes down to it they’ll choose to move in with me over staying to keep her, but i worry that i’m being selfish by making them choose in the first place. i feel like i need to make it clear once and for all that the dog absolutely cannot come with them and make sure it sticks, but i honestly don’t know how to do it in a way that will make them realise while not hurting their feelings because we’ve already gone over the reasons and they initially agreed.

AITA for making my s/o give up their beloved dog?

What are these acronyms?

[strawhbrrries]

Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned. 

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes.  However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it. 

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here. 

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.” 

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables. 

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him. 

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet. 

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped). 

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift. 

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record. 

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.” 

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!” 

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.” 

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

[the-sprog]

Thinking about Hakuba just reaching his limit. He realizes that everyone involved in trying to catch KID has been a bad detective, because everyone (him included. ESPECIALLY him) seems to be obsessed with figuring out the "who?" that they've never stopped to question "why?"

When he confronts Inspector Nakamori he gets told that of course they've investigated his reasonings! That good for nothing thief is just greedy/an adrenaline junkie/does it for the thrill/to humiliate the police/etc.

But Hakuba knows this is not the same Kaito KID as when Inspector Nakamori was first assigned to the case.

He's missing something. And he doesn't know what.

It drives him up the wall. He tries figuring it out at the next few heists, but he comes up with nothing. There's no more clues/information to add to those he already had.

So he does the only logical thing.

Trap everyone involved in catching KID in a room that's ventilated as little as possible and release various pallets of truth serum in gas form. Y'know. Like a reasonable person.

Inspector Nakamori, Conan, Hakuba, and Ran (chaperoning) get caught alongside KID and get a lungful dose of truth serum.

Now, before anyone says anything, I know truth serum isn't an actual thing. The way that it's logicked to work is that it lowers inhibitions, loosens your lips basically, and makes you more susceptible to speaking before you can think about it. But of course, it doesn't actually mean people are forced to answer questions or to tell the truth.

But Hakuba is at the end of his wits.

Gonna write a snippet hold on (future Sprog speaking: this ended up being a full-on one shot. So here's the AO3 link if you want to read there)

"Taking a page out of my book, detective-san?" KID asks, the same cocksure smile ever present on his face. It annoys Hakuba. It always has. It's the same expression for every occasion, no matter what KID is saying or doing.

As long as he's not being someone else.

"It's not knockout gas," Hakuba says. He doesn't yet feel like the words are being ripped out of his mouth, but that's to be expected. He's been preparing for this confrontation. "It's truth serum."

From the corner of his vision he sees Edogawa-kun flinch. He would've given it more attention if he had any to spare.

Kaito KID tilts his head and hums. Hakuba can't see it due to the shadow from KID's hat, but he's sure KID is looking him straight in the eyes.

"Saguru-kun?" Inspector Nakamori is the first to break the silence. "If this is about-"

"Why?" It's as much of a response for the inspector as it is a question directed towards the thief himself. "I've never asked myself that question, when it comes to you. A gross oversight, a mistake unbecoming of someone calling himself a detective."

KID's smile doesn't falter, not that Hakuba expected it to. But the fact he hasn't up and left tells him he at least got the thief curious.

"I've been so caught up in trying to unmask you, that I didn't stop to think about why you do it."

"Saguru-kun-"

"I know what you said, Inspector. But your observations are at least 9 years too old. They don't hold up to the current Kaito KID."

Some silence. To his side, Hakuba can faintly hear Edogawa-kun hyperventilating while Mouri-san tries to calm him down to no success. Edogawa-kun wasn't listening to her, too intent on following the conversation.

And then Inspector Nakamori speaks. "You think this is a copycat? That all this time we've been following a fake?"

"I believe we've been following a legacy," Hakuba answers. "Either that, or something happened during his hiatus that made him change his Modus Operandi."

"My, my, detective-san. I'm flattered to know I spend so much time living in your head," KID gets up. "Well, it's been fun to hear your theories, but I think we should cut this visit short, don't you? I believe the curtain call has been way overdue," he says.

"If you leave you have no way of knowing how long the serum will stay in your system," Hakuba stops him. He can't lose Kaito KID's attention now. "And the rest of the gas that's been stagnating in this room will be released to the audience outside these doors."

That seems to do the trick. "Detective-san! I didn't expect you to be the first one to crack!"

"I want to know why you do it. No one else seems to want to focus on that question."

"I did," comes a voice from his right. Edogawa-kun slaps his hands over his mouth as soon as he registers that the words have left his brain faster than he could control.

"Conan-kun?" Mouri-san asks. She's crouched to be eye level with the kid, but Edogawa-kun's eyes are squeezed shut.

"My littlest critic has once again bested everyone else in this room, hasn't he?" KID chuckles. "Bravo, oh great detective!" He claps his hands. "Bravo!"

Hakuba gets his eyes to focus back on the thief. "So Edogawa-kun noticed something we didn't."

"And neglected to share with the class, it seems." KID shakes his head mockingly. "For shame, great detective. For shame. I thought you were all for truth and justice."

Edogawa-kun opens his eyes enough to glare at Kaito KID, which only succeedes in making the thief's smile sharper.

The mocking tone in KID's voice makes Mouri-san snap her attention on him, glare equally as present on her face. "He's just a child, you perverted thief." Her eyes widen in shock as she realizes what she said.

Kaito KID raises his hands in front of him. "I had to make sure you knew the truth!"

"There were a million other ways you could've done that!"

"Oh, but none would've bothered detective-kun as much as messing with you, now would they?" His smile doesn't falter even as Mouri-san's (and Edogawa-kun's) glare gets more intense.

"He's misdirecting us!" Edogawa-kun points out.

"But you know why he does it."

"The information you need is all there. What kind of two cents detective are you that you can't figure it out on your own?"

"Conan-kun!"

"Ah! Sorry, sorry, Hakuba-niisan! I didn't mean it- that's a lie. I did mean it." He groans when he finishes. "Stupid truth gas!"

"That's very rude, Conan-kun."

"If the child figured it out so easily, then he has a point in calling us out," Inspector Nakamori says.

"He's the highlight of my heists, that's for sure." KID looks caught off guard by his own admission.

He's lowering his guard. Or he's getting nervous.

"Answer the question, KID," Hakuba tries once more.

"You could ask the great detective. He seems to have a deduction ready."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I have a general idea of what could be going on based on observations of the heists I've attended." If anyone is surprised by Edogawa-kun's eloquence, no one says. "I lack a lot of background information, mainly on everything regarding before Kaito KID's hiatus -which my dad refuses to collaborate with me on because he says I have to figure it out myself. Fair, but rude. It's not like I have access to police records of the time." Everyone is staring at him, but Edogawa-kun seems to not have noticed. Or the drug is taking more effect than expected and he truly can't control himself. "And what I have isn't enough to account for all incognitas, and it would be unbecoming of a detective to offer up an incomplete explanation." He finally takes some time to breathe.

Which probably didn't help, considering their air was probably still extremely contaminated.

"And that's why Conan-kun is my favorite critic."

Inspector Nakamori shakes himself out of his stupor and addresses the room. "What's it matter?! He's a thief! A criminal! He should be behind bars, and that's all we need to know!"

Edogawa-kun frowns and answers the rhetorical question before Hakuba himself can. "Establishing a motive is an important step in investigating any criminal offence. It can help discern how and who. In homicide cases, it can make the difference between a premeditated murder and manslaughter."

Mouri-san's eyes haven't left Edogawa-kun's face since the little detective entered the conversation. Hakuba can't discern what she's thinking, but he can tell she's wearing the same face Edogawa-kun has when he's gathering and putting together the clues to a particularly complex trick.

"This is different, kid," inspector Nakamori says condescendingly (his tone isn't lost on Edogawa-kun, judging by how his face contorts). "This is just thievery."

"To neglect any piece during the investigation of a case, would mean to be willing to come to an incorrect or incomplete conclusion," Edogawa-kun answers. "It would mean not caring about the truth behind it."

At this point, Hakuba is just a witnessing, partially slack jawed, how Edogawa-kun goes toe to toe with the Inspector. Kaito KID looks to be enjoying the display, revelling in the chaos caused by it.

"Share it with us, then," he tells Edogawa-kun. "Let's combine our information."

Edogawa-kun takes a sharp breath and shakes his head, jaw and fists clenched tightly.

They were all so focused on Edogawa-kun that none of them notice Kaito KID making his way towards them.

"That's enough terrorizing my littlest critic." KID picks up Edogawa-kun and returns to his spot. Edogawa-kun glares at him alongside Mouri-san, but his looks to be more of an annoyed expression than anger.

"This is humiliating," he says. "I'll have my revenge."

"You still owe me a favor, detective-kun."

"I let you go that one time with the Junior Detectives."

"Pppff, you let me go all the time." KID waves the hand that's not holding Edogawa-kun to his side dismissively. "That doesn't count."

"YOU LET HIM GO?" Inspector Nakamori yells, reminding the two others of their audience. Edogawa-kun startles.

"He saved the Junior Detectives' lives," Edogawa-kun says.

"I don't need him to let me go. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own escapes, thank you very much. He's a child. It's not like he can do much to stop me."

"You don't seem to think so when I have you cornered with a soccer ball."

"Those things are weapons of mass destruction and you shouldn't be allowed to use them!" KID hisses.

Hakuba decides to end their little debate. "We've gotten off topic. My question has yet to be answered."

"It wouldn't be very fun if I just gave you the answer, wouldn't it?" KID says, with his smile still in place. "After all, Conan-kun has spent all this time working to figure it out. It wouldn't be very polite to let his efforts go to waste."

"So you admit it," Hakuba says. "Your motives are different from the previous Kaito KID."

"Or maybe," KID says. "Maybe you've been wrong all along."

Inspector Nakamori takes a step forward. "Saguru-kun was right, then? You're a different Kaito KID than the one from 8 years ago?"

It's the first time Hakuba has ever seen KID's smile falter, and for as fast as he fixed it back on his face, he doesn't think he would've noticed if he hadn't been paying close attention to it in the first place.

Inspector Nakamori curses under his breathe, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

"I don't want KID dead." Edogawa-kun's voice is marely a whisper. The phrase surprises everyone, Edogawa-kun included, who pales when all the attention turns to him.

"All efforts to apprehand Phantom thief 1412 have been non-lethal." Inspector Nakamori attempts to reassure Edogawa-kun. Hakuba frowns in thought. "You knows this, kid."

Hakuba checks his watch. He doesn't have much time to get the truth out of KID with this,and he doubts this method would work again.

"The police is using non-lethal action." Mouri-san's voice is barely audible. She's looking at KID and Edogawa-kun with an unreadable expression on her face. "But... Sonoko said there have been rumors of people hearing gunshots during some of Kaito KID's heists," she says, careful. Her eyes don't leave his face.

Hakuba turns sharply towards he thief. On his face, the same cocksure smile. The same can't be said for Edogawa-kun, who looks seconda away from passing out, his fingers clenching KID's vest tightly. "Someone else wants to get to you," he says. "But... why. I'm still missing something."

"There's plenty of people unhappy with me for stealing their precious gems, you know?" KID boasts, making a rose appear in his hand, making a show of examining it. "It's not so surreal to think people would want to take revenge." The rose turns into the Alexandrite that was that day's target. He holds it up to the sliver of moonlight coming from one of the room's windows.

Inspector Nakamori's eye twitches at the sight, but he holds himself and says, "There isn't any mention of gunshots in any of the official reports of any of Kaito KID's heists."

KID flicks the gemstone up in the air, letting it fall back into Edogawa-kun's hands.

When he sees Edogawa-kun with the gem in his hands, face unsurprised by the gesture, Hakuba feels like a lightbulb lit up. "You give everything back," he mutters. "You give everything back," he says, louder this time. "That's what I've been missing. The privious Kaito KID kept all that he stole, but you give everything back."

"I think that's common knowledge at this point, detective-san."

Hakuba shakes his head. He checks his watch. "Why go all the trouble of stealing the gems if you have no intention of keeping them?"

"The thrill?" Mouri-san and Inspector Nakamori say at the same time.

"That's what they said of the first KID, too. His criminal profile looked at the flashy white suit, the magic tricks, and the general showmenship and called it narcisistic behaviour. Attention seeking," he says. "And that can still apply to you."

"Hey-" the protest goes ignored.

"But that doesn't explain why you decided to give the gems back. Afterall, it's considerably more effort to return them without being seen that it would be to jsut keep them." He takes a step towards the thief. "You're looking for something." Another step. "And the people shooting at you are doing the same. And you don't want them to have it."

"That's an interesting theory, detective-san." KID tries to keep his voice stable, but the prolonged exposure to the serum, combined with the nervousness caused by Hakuba getting closer to the truth, is going its job, and KID's voice wavers.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a little snippet from a tattoo shop/bakery au that i got kinda stuck on and i dont know if ill ever finish.

some context: Chrissy and Eddie are best friends that live in different states, Eds is taking two weeks off work for Chris' visit, he won't be at his tattoo shop which means he won't see the cute baker from next door

Chrissy's in the middle of answering and he's stretching his arms above his head when they hear the front door opening and the little bell above it chiming.

Eddie left the sign up front switched to "CLOSED", which can only mean-

"Eds?" Steve calls into the studio

Eddie immediately gets up from his seat and goes to meet him at the lobby, missing Chrissy's surprised look.

"Hiya, Stevie." he greets, bumping his knuckles against the front counter where Steve is standing just to the side of it.

He's secretly been hoping Steve would stop by just so he could see him. Just so he could hear his voice one last time before he has to go on for days without it.

Steve looks good too, in a plain white shirt, his blue apron and the absolute best pair of lightwash jeans in the whole entire world (if you're asking Eddie).

"I thought I saw you come in" Steve says, "You've been here for hours and you didn't come by to get breakfast, so i brought you this" he lifts the tray in his hands.

There's a mug with coffee, several sugar packets and two chocolate croissants.

"Aw, Steve, you didn't have to" Eddie says, genuinely touched. His heart flutters even though this is typical of Steve. He's just the sweetest.

"Oh, stop it," Steve protests, sounding bashful "these are from yesterday, I can't sell them" he says, placing the tray on the counter. A blush colors his cheeks and Eddie smiles, he looks so pretty.

Eddie knows by now how a pastry looks when it's fresh. He can't be fooled anymore.

It's been so long of them doing this dance though, and Eddie knows if he mentions it Steve will just get embarrassed, so he keeps his mouth shut about it.

"Well, they look really good." Eddie says instead "Thank you, sweetheart" he adds softly, his eyes drawn to the pink blooming on Steve's cheeks and focusing on the flour smeared across Steve's nose. He wants to kiss it and get flour all over his lips.

Eddie leans towards the tray and breaks away a piece of croissant, taking a bite.

Yep. Either Steve made these this morning or he's got magic abilities.

" 'M sure gonna miss these" Eddie says around his mouthful, gesturing with the bit of pastry still in his hand.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Steve groans "the shop already feels dull today"

Eddie laughs softly "You flatterer" he accuses

"Just trying to get you to visit" Steve defends, leaning against the counter and into Eddie's personal space to tap the rim of Eddie's reading glasses.

"Like I could stay away from your shop" Eddie says, tries his best not to sound breathless. He thinks he fails, and he must be blushing too, judging by how Steve's eyes are roaming his face.

"Good. Cause we need the business this month" Steve jokes.

That makes Eddie snort and laugh, Steve's shop is filled to the brim with costumers at least twice a day, five days a week.

Steve smiles at him again and then he peers around Eddie.

"Oh, hi!" Steve greets, straightens up and waves a little.

Eddie turns to see Chrissy leaning against the lobby partition, observing with her arms crossed.

Fuck.

"Chriiisssyyyy!" Eddie draws, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously "C'mere!" Eddie soldiers on,

Chrissy eyes him warily but walks to the counter and smiles sweetly at Steve, "Hi!" she greets "I'm Chrissy."

Steve's eyes widen "Of course! Eddie was picking you up today! I'm Steve, it's nice meeting you!"

He's such an angel, Eddie wants to cry.

"Likewise, Steve. I'm so sorry, I don't think Eddie's mentioned you yet" Chris says, but directs it to Eddie, glaring at him.

Eddie's about to answer, offended, but gets stuck on Steve's crestfallen expression for a split second and then Steve beats him to it.

"Oh, it's okay" Steve says, his smile reappearing, "I own the bakery next door" he supplies.

"He brought croissants!" Eddie tries to redirect "The best croissants in the state I'd say" he offers, succeeding in lightening Steve's mood again, judging by the twinkle in his eye.

Satisfied, Eddie asks Chris "D'you want one?"

Chrissy looks at him weird but mutters "sure" and grabs the one still whole.

"Well!" Steve exclaims, softly clapping his hands against his sides,

"I was just dropping these by, I won't take up any more of your time." Steve says "Chrissy it was really nice meeting you, I hope you have a great time in our town."

He turns to Eddie then and reaches out to squeeze his arm "And Eds, I hope you get lots of rest during your break. And visit us." he adds, moving his hand up to softly pull on a stray bit of hair that fell off Eddie's bun "The place won't be the same without you"

Eddie deflects so he doesn't melt under his gaze.

"I'm not dying, Stevie." he says, grabbing him by the shoulders and bodily turning him around as Steve softly laughs.

Judging by how his own cheeks are burning, Eddie's sure that he's the exact shade of a ripe tomato.

"I'll be back before you know it." Eddie adds, and with that, he gets Steve out the door.

Steve turns to say "You better" to Eddie. And once again, he peers around him to wave his fingers at Chrissy "Bye!" he says.

Sweetheart.

Eddie forces himself to not watch him walk the few steps between their shops.

When he turns back to his best friend he's relieved to see she's not glaring at him anymore.

She's got chocolate in the corner of her mouth and she's nodding.

"These are really good" Chrissy says, lulling Eddie into a false sense of safety.

He walks towards her to pick up and continue eating his own croissant, but as soon as he's within reach, Chris smacks the back of her hand against his bicep.

"OW!" Eddie protests, leaning against the counter and rubbing his arm.

She's been an athlete ever since they were in middle school together and she's never pulled her punches with him, it's a big part of why he loves her so much.

"You never told me you had a boyfriend!" she accuses, her mouth still full.

[notmorbid]

the night flowers.

dialogue prompts from the night flowers by sara herchenroether.

i'm right here.

you're too perky for 5 in the morning.

i pay attention. wouldn't you?

i haven't recognized myself in months.

there is no way i'm holding your hand.

anyone staying with you?

i don't know how to cook. just how to eat.

you're a certifiable ass. you know that, right?

feelings are all stories we tell ourselves.

there was more. wasn't there?

people are looking for you again.

tell me a story.

i don't like thinking about that.

no one wants to move out here anymore. would you?

you knew me before i was ___.

i've been waiting to hear the rest of your story.

it's not a happy story. the true ones usually aren't.

you might feel better if you talk about it.

i can't lose you again.

maybe it's time to write a new story.

i'll take the devil i know over the devil i don't, any day of the week.

you never make things easy on yourself, do you?

is there anyone you can call?

everyone's got their secrets.

you seem to be doing fine without me.

was it you? did you do this?

the not knowing, that's the worst part.

are you still dark and twisty, then?

i know you'd never leave me.

it's been a while since i visited. i'm sorry about that.

i've never let myself remember.

you could have come back before.

i don't believe in angels.

there are two types of people: people who know they get to be alive, and people who expect it.

it's good to have good people around you.

the worst has happened already, don't you think?

doesn't anyone else need rescuing?

would you rather be good or lucky?

you can't ever be too careful.

___ took everything from me. every choice that i thought was my own.

the room is warmer with you in it.

you never speak with exclamation marks.

a word will always be more cunning than a knife.

___ won't hurt you anymore. i'll make sure of it.

if i'm going to fix the broken parts, i'd better examine the pieces.

do you still want to know what happened to me?

i had nothing to compare it to. i thought it was love.

i don't know you well enough to not like you.

i didn't think it was right to keep it secret. maybe it wasn't.

i told myself i was trying to protect you.

as long as there are people, there are going to be fences.

what's done is done, and you can't fix it.

i don't think i can do this on my own.

you look like i feel.

i'm sorry for leaving you. i shouldn't have.

i'm your echo. i'm what came after.

you're beautiful, you know that?

i've wanted to do this for a long time.

it's better to know, right?

are you trying to die today?

why don't you blame me for what happened?

what happened to me wasn't your fault. it wasn't mine, either.

certainty in one direction brings limitations in another.

i should have known, and i should have protected you.

i was hoping you'd still be here.

it's better to know the truth.

if it's okay with you, i need a drink.

[seramilla]

In the vaggie Carmilla related au, we already saw Carmilla looking to Vaggie for some sort of comfort, but when was the first time it was Vaggie who looked to Carmilla for comfort? I can't think of a specific situation (Just a generally stressful situation for Vaggie where the first and/or only person she thinks of and wants to seek comfort from is Carmilla), but I just want to see her have her first "I need my mom" moment.

Vaggie doesn't even hesitate to come over the next day when Carmilla asks if she wants to have dinner with herself and the girls. Telling Charlie she's going over for a visit, she kisses the princess goodbye, and books it to Carmilla's in less than 5 minutes. She's become more brave about flying over Pentagram City ever since the wedding was announced...no one would dare shoot Lucifer's daughter's fiancé out of the sky. Not if they wanted to keep their spine.

Carmilla meets her at the door, looking much more cheerful and domestic than Vaggie thinks she's ever seen her. When Carmilla goes in to hug her daughter, Vaggie raises her eyebrow and pushes Carmilla away. The matriarch is wearing a white chef's apron with what looks like blood splatters all over it. When Carmilla notices her staring at it, she laughs heartily. She rubs her large claw over the front of it, and it comes away clean. No blood.

"It's just the pattern," Carmilla says, grinning. "It's a Mother's Day present. Clara thought it was funny. I guess I kind of do, too."

Vaggie sighs and smiles back at her. What a relief! She moves in for a much-needed hug, and Carmilla squeezes her tight, running her hand down the back of Vaggie's head tenderly. She lets her large claws trail through the girl's long hair. Vaggie perhaps keeps her arms wrapped around her mother a little longer than necessary...but Carmilla doesn't protest or try to pull away. Coughing and blushing a little, Vaggie lets go and rubs her arm sheepishly.

"Sorry!" Vaggie apologizes. "Sorry. I just missed you."

"It's okay. Come on in. The girls are setting the table."

The evening's spread is hot tamales, soup, and some vegetables for a side salad. Clara mentions that their mother also got up early that morning to fix some home-made ice cream before work. Vaggie looks over at Carmilla in surprise.

"Mama!" Vaggie says. "I didn't know you could cook!"

Carmilla waves her claw in front of her face in a dismissive gesture. "Oh please. It's nothing special. I let the servants take the day off, so I thought I'd make dinner myself. I also made eggs this morning...it wasn't my best work. I just wanted to spend some time alone with you girls. We don't do that enough."

Vaggie beams inwardly. Before really getting to know Carmilla, she never knew the overlord could be so thoughtful. She digs into her meal wholeheartedly. It's not exactly restaurant quality, or like the stuff Alastor makes for her and the other hotel patrons, but it's good nonetheless. Homely. Authentic. Made exclusively from the heart.

Odette and Clara offer to clean up after dinner. Vaggie thinks that her sisters are trying to give her some alone time with Carmilla. Maybe they can sense the tension she's holding inside. She'd been leaning forward in her chair throughout dinner, with horrible posture, unconsciously trying to make herself appear even smaller than she normally is. Her body language is probably a dead giveaway.

She can't hide from Charlie. She can't hide from Odette, Clara, or Carmilla, either. Maybe that's why Carmilla directs her into the fancy sitting room just off the kitchen. The one with all the comfortable lounge chairs and a sofa, with large, comfy pillows that are so soft, Vaggie practically sinks into them when she sits. Carmilla shuts the large French doors, to close them off from the rest of the house. Vaggie lies down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, and stares at a sparkling chandelier that dangles delicately above her head.

Carmilla lowers the lights in the room. Now the chandelier looks almost ethereal in the way it reflects the light from the dim bulbs. Vaggie can almost pretend like those sparkles reflected onto the ceiling are stars in a night sky. There is something that feels very cosmic and safe about her surroundings. Combined with the scent of Carmilla's potpourri that's scattered around the room, it just smells like her mother. Like how she feels a real home would smell on Earth after returning from a long and stressful day at school or work.

Carmila sits down next to her on the large sofa, putting Vaggie's feet in her lap to make room for herself. Vaggie almost gets up, but Carmilla shoots her a glance that says Don't you dare!

Carmilla leans back casually, with an arm stretched out along the back of the couch, using the furniture as leverage to arch her spine until Vaggie hears a pop! Then Carmilla groans in what can only be described as relief. She grins sheepishly down at her daughter, while Vaggie looks back at her coyly.

"Wow. Impressive," Vaggie chuckles.

"Pardon me. I know I'm dead, but these bones aren't what they used to be."

Vaggie laughs. "It's okay. Anyway...I hope I'm not imposing too much on you by coming over so late."

"Not at all," Carmilla assures her. "You know I love having you over. You said you had something to talk about? What's on your mind?"

Vaggie goes quiet for a moment. She does switch her position on the couch just then, trading her feet in Carmilla's lap for her head instead. She cuddles up into Carmilla, head laying over her thighs, while the matriarch begins running her long claws through Vaggie's hair again.

Vaggie had discovered early on in their new relationship that she loves having Carmilla comfort her in this way. She removes the bow from her hair, the one that Charlie gave her, to allow Carmilla better access. Carmilla cups her whole claw around the back of Vaggie's head, just holding it there, seeing how small the girl's head is in her large hand. Everything about the fallen angel is small. Except her innate kindness, and her indomitable spirit. Those are without measure.

"It's the wedding," Vaggie says, after letting the silence linger a little too long for her comfort. Carmilla resumes petting her hair. "I keep having nightmares about it. Charlie is so excited. And I am, too. But every time I think about it...the closer we get...I'm scared."

"Pre-wedding jitters are normal," Carmilla says matter-of-factly. "When I thought I was going to marry your father, I felt the same thing."

"Well, we know how that turned out," Vaggie teases, looking up at her. Carmilla pokes her side, tickling her, making Vaggie squeal and jump, almost hopping off the couch. "Wait, haha, no! Stop!"

"Don't test me, little girl," Carmilla teases back.

"I would never, Mama."

"Now," Carmilla says, trying to get back on track. "Talk to me. What's really going on?"

Leave it to Carmilla to detect that Vaggie's problem is more than superficial. Her problems are deeply buried, but Carmilla has a way of coaxing them out of her.

"I don't know," Vaggie responds, burying her head back in Carmilla's lap. "I was fine a few weeks ago. But the closer the day gets...the more the reality sets in that this is actually happening...I just worry Charlie is making the wrong decision. To be with me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I'm just...me. And she's the princess of Hell. She's going to be queen someday. Maybe not for a long time, but still, that scares the fuck out of me. Eternity is a long time to be with someone. What if she gets...bored, or falls out of love with me? Like Lilith and her dad? I don't want that to be us, Mama."

Vaggie sits up. As she'd spoken the words, an overwhelming sense of anxiety had washed over her. Like as soon as her thoughts were out of her brain and let loose into the world, they'd become a living, tangible thing, threatening to gobble her up and swallow her whole.

She leans into Carmilla's side, pushing herself as close as she possibly can to the other woman. She tries her best not to cry. It's very difficult to hold back in Carmilla's presence. There is something so safe, and warm, and secure about the strength in Carmilla's arms as they wrap around her. Something that, despite how much she loves her fiancé, she just can't experience with Charlie.

Is this what a mother's love feels like? The type of steadfastness that can only come from the person who once supported and protected her as she grew in her own body? Who cherished and mourned her potential existence, even when she thought she'd lost Vaggie forever?

Vaggie never had a childhood. Doesn't know what that feeling is like, and doesn't know if she ever will. But she thinks she gets it now, at least. Why children can form such bonds with their caretakers. When that emotional attachment is so strong, nothing else can ever compare or replace it. Vaggie can't believe she had to die to experience some modicum of it, but she's counting her lucky stars now.

"I'm such a terrible partner," Vaggie says, wrapping her arms around Carmilla's waist, and letting the woman return the gesture. "I don't deserve her. I never did. I don't know why I thought this would work."

"Oh, mija, mija," Carmilla repeats, patting her back gently as Vaggie cries into her neck. "It's all right. I know this is a big change for you. Life-altering. But everything will be all right. I've seen the way Charlie looks at you. And when she asked me for my blessing, you should have seen her face. She has nothing but love in her heart. I doubt myself about many things, but please don't doubt me about this. Nothing will ever change the way she feels about you. I promise."

Vaggie hiccups a little, turning her head so she can feel Carmilla's warmth against her cheek. Carmilla wipes the tears falling from her eye. Her claws come away wet and salty, but Carmilla doesn't care.

"How can you possibly know that?" Vaggie asks.

"I'm your mother. I know everything."

Vaggie can't help but laugh a little at that.

Somehow, in some way, even though she's not totally convinced she's not an eternal, cosmically ordained fuck-up of a person, she's relieved that Carmilla, at least, doesn't buy into her bullshit. That she is convinced she and Charlie will work in the long-term is a comfort.

It will probably take Vaggie a long time...if not forever...to get over her own issues about herself. But Charlie...goddammit, Charlie...she loves that woman. More than she can characterize with feelings and more than words in a dictionary could describe. Her love for the daughter of the devil is everlasting. Unexplainable. Beyond the material.

If Carmilla belives it...hopefully she can. Someday. Preferably on the day that she says "I do." But if it doesn't come later, she will live vicarously through Charlie and Carmilla's combined faith in her. Their strength will see her through.

"I love you, Mama," Vaggie says, hugging Carmilla tighter.

"I love you, too, my baby," Carmilla responds, giving her daughter a lingering peck on the forehead.

Vaggie decides to spend the night again. She wants to talk to Carmilla more. About the wedding, and about other things. When she returns to Charlie the following day, she feels lighter, and more confident, than she's felt in a while.

She doesn't dream that night. No nightmares, or intrusive thoughts at all. Just a wonderful sense of wholeness, and a renewed vigor the following day, that she desperately needed. There's only a few days left until the ceremony. They have a lot of work to do, and seemingly not enough time to do it.

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER ONE - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

  I usually don’t become swoon by seeing attractive women. Working security at a luxury club, I come across them almost every day. At one point in my life, I even slept with them for money because I needed survival after the Zen’in Family disowned me about twenty years ago.

But when I stare in the direction of the bar, I’m convinced I’m looking at one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen in my life. 

 She’s fucking gorgeous. The deepest and richest shade of brown. Thick curls falling to her shoulders. Full thighs that are being constricted by the material of her denim mini skirt. 

 God, I don’t fucking care if I sound like a pervert, but every time I saw her cross and uncross her legs, I hoped to see a sneak of her panties. 

 I don’t care to be in a relationship. 

 I just had to fuck her. Hard and slow until she’s screaming my name. 

 Insta lust isn’t really my thing. However, my cock is feeling extremely uncomfortable in my pants right now. 

 “Fushiguro!” Shiu Kong’s voice blares through my ears. 

  Shit, I forgot I wasn’t alone. 

 He continues, “You heard anything I said or you’re too busy drooling over that pretty girl at the bar?” He points with his chin, taking a drag of his third cigarette tonight. 

 That fucker needs to give it a break. 

 “I’m not fucking drooling, Kong,” I answered. “And what did you say?”

  He chuckles. “I asked, are you going to consider that contract I gave you?”

 “No. You know I don’t do that kind of shit anymore. I have a kid.”

 “And how’s your relationship with Megumi going?”

 I hate using the term friend , but Shiu Kong would be the closest thing that I would have of that sort. We met back in Tokyo after I left the Zen’in Family.

 Our friendship consists of business, banter, and talking shit to one another. He’s not a bad guy. Pretty decent and not as annoying as other people. And I guess you can say I kind of owe him since he helped watch Megumi after his mother passed. 

 He’s been in the States for a few days now to visit, trying to convince me to take this damn contract. But he knows I left that part of me back in Japan.

 “It’s going,” I finally responded. “He’s still adjusting to being here.”

 “English working well for him? You’re helping him I assume.” 

 I give him an annoyed look. “Trying to make sure I’m being a dad?”

 “Someone has to,” he says, boringly, while putting out his cigarette to like another one. “Maybe you should get a girlfriend. Make her a housewife. Being a single parent to a fifteen-year-old boy isn’t the easiest.”

 I let out a mixture of a scoff and chuckle. “And how would you fucking know?”

 “Considering that I helped take care of your boy, I would know.”

 “Hm,” I say. 

 “And I’m frankly tired of having to babysit your old ass, too. You’re forty-two, Fushiguro. I can’t be your lover forever.” 

 And here goes the shit talking. 

 “Funny. I don’t remember you having anyone.”

 He smirks. “I have my options.”

 “Yeah, whatever.”

 My attention is back to the woman at the bar, and this time she’s not alone. Some guy occupied the seat next to her, and by the looks of it, she’s annoyed. I’m almost positive that he’s hitting on her. I mean, who wouldn’t? Her beauty steals the attention of the bar. Still, even I know when to read the fucking room. 

 If a woman isn’t interested, then she isn’t interested. You can tell by their body language and how they engage with you. 

 Her body is telling him to fuck off, and she’s doesn’t look like she’s engaging either. And despite that, the fucker can’t keep his hands to himself. 

 You would think the other men seeing what’s happening would be decent enough to fucking defend her but they’re just sitting around with stupid grins on their faces. 

 Kong was talking some type of shit before I got up from the table and walked toward the bar. 

 I had two reasons to go over there. 

 One, to get that motherfucker away from her, and two, my selfish intent to see how pretty she is up close. 

 The closer I got to the bar, their conversation became more coherent. 

 “Come on, sweetheart. Why are you playing hard to get?”

 “You don’t know how to fucking take no for an answer?” 

  Her voice… 

 Get it together, Fushiguro. 

 “I do, but this feels like a game of cat and mouse.” He’s definitely drunk. 

 “If-”

 “She’s not interested,” I interrupted. 

 The moment I uttered those words, it’s like on cue, her and I locked eyes. Her hues are the color of coffee with a touch of milk. I drink them in. The almond shape. The small creases underneath. The length of her lashes. I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at them. 

 Then, her face. It has this type of softness yet definition. Those full lips that are brown and pink, even prettier up close. 

 No. She’s more than pretty. 

 She’s beautiful. Sexy. Tempting. 

 It’s like I almost forgot what I came here for before this shithead opened his mouth again. 

 “And who the fuck are you?” He’s trying to remain calm. Confident, even. But I’ve been told how intimidating my presence can be for people. It’s clearly affecting him. 

 “The guy that’s fucking telling you she’s not interested and to leave her the fuck alone,” I bit out. “You look desperate.”

 He gets off the stool to buck up to me. 

 Funny. 

 “What happens if I don’t?”

 “I don’t think you want to find out.” Is all I say to him. 

 This guy is about three inches, maybe four inches shorter than me. He’s intoxicated. He is barely confident in the words he’s saying to me. But somehow he thinks he wants to find out if he doesn’t listen to my warning. 

 The other pieces of shit that didn’t say anything listen into our heated conversation. I even feel her eyes still on me. Why am I being overprotective over a woman I don’t know? Like she’s mine? Not sure, but I am. 

 Though, it looks like he made the right decision by walking away, his friends going right along with him. 

 “You okay?” I ask her, after the drunken fuck leaves. 

 “I am. Thank you for defending me.”

 Velvety. Smooth. Soft. Raspy. Mature. All the words that come to mind when I hear her voice. I feel the fucking hair on the back of my neck standing up. I just know she would sound so sweet while taking me. 

  Fushiguro .

 I know. I’m a pervert. Fucking shoot me for being attracted to her. 

 I nod and say nothing else to her, beginning to walk away but she stops me. 

 “What’s your name?” she asks, smiling. 

 “Toji Fushiguro.”

 “Do you usually give out your full name like that, Toji Fushiguro?” 

 Charming, I think. I give her a small smile. 

 “And yours?”

 “Y/N. Just Y/N, for now.”

 I quip a brow. “You say for now, are you suggesting there will be a later?”

 “Hm, it depends. Do you want to sit down and keep me company? Your scary boyfriend demeanor can probably keep away the rest of the creeps.”

 “Scary? Do I scare you?”

 She laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. “No, Toji. You don’t scare me.”

 My name from her lips sounds like pure sin. It drips like honey. I want to taste how it sounds when she’s moaning it. 

 “I wouldn’t mind, but I have a friend-” I look back to the table where Kong and I were at to see that he left. 

 And I’m pretty sure he didn’t cover the fucking bill. 

She shrugs. “I don’t mind your friend joining. As long as he’s not weird, which I’m assuming he’s not since you associate yourself with him. The more, the merrier.” 

 “Looks like he left.”

 “Then it looks like you’re going to keep me company.”

 Now, she’s not asking me. She’s telling me. 

  Shit . 

 I have no reason to protest, so I fill the seat next to her. The bartender comes to me to take my order, but I tell him just a refill on ginger ale and remind him I have a tab open. 

 “You don’t drink?” 

 “Nah, not really. I don’t like the taste of alcohol. It’s not the type of burn that I like,” I tell her. 

 “What kind of burn do you like, Toji Fushiguro?” Is she…

 “You flirting with me, Y/N?”

 She smiles. “Just making conversation. That’s all.”

 “Hm. Well, to answer your question, the workout burn feels good. Help clears my mind.”

 “You have a lot going on in your mind?”

 “I’m a forty-two and a single dad. My mind feels like a Formula One track.”

 She giggles. “I can only imagine. How old is your…”

 “Son, and he’s fifteen. 

 “I don’t have kids, but I teach at a high school. Teenagers are definitely not a walk in the park.”

 “A classroom full of kids sounds like hell.”

 This time her laugh is louder and clearer than before. 

 “I swear it’s not that bad. I used to teach elementary school kids. They are a bit more handful since they’re younger. I was their temporary mom for the day,” she explains. “Teaching isn’t the easiest, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

 “I see you’re very passionate about it.”

 “I am.” Y/N takes a swig of her martini, licking the sugar off her lips that coats them. And like the creep she doesn’t think I am, I stare at that pretty mouth of hers. 

 A visual of Y/N on her knees with her full lips wrapped around my cock plays in my mind. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking because when she looks at me after putting down her drink, she shies away but quickly gathers herself. 

 “So, uhm, what do you do?”  

 “I work at a luxury club. VIP security,” I answer. 

 “Very fitting.”

 “How so?”

 “You ask me if you scare me. I said no, but you give off protective vibes. It’s only right to put a good trait to use to make money, no?”

 I hum, taking a sip of my ginger ale. “I guess you’re right.”

 Over the course of hours, Y/N and I carry conversation. Talking to her feels… nice. Easy, almost. Like the more we talk, the more familiar she becomes. I’m not into that artificial crap, but I feel like I’ve spoken to her before. 

 Like I knew her in another lifetime. 

 Usually, I talk about myself when I’m talking to people, especially women. However, with Y/N? I listen to her. The words she says. Her opinions about insightful topics. She’s breathtaking. Smart. Addicting. 

 My cock isn’t aching only from her looks, but also from the high I feel from her mind. 

 I sound like a sap. I know I do. It’s just… I haven’t felt this way since my wife died seven years ago.

  Maybe you could try again.  

 Absolutely not. My heart and any kind of decency I had left was buried in the grave next to my wife. 

 There’s nothing wrong with a good conversation before an attempted fuck, so that’s all I’m doing. 

 That’s what I’m trying to convince myself, at least. 

 “So, Toji, you from around here?” 

 “Nah. Born in Japan. I’ve only been in the States for three years with my kid.”

 “What about your son’s mother? She didn’t move with you?” She questions. 

 I toy with the black band that I still keep on my finger. “No. She moved somewhere I can’t go, unfortunately.”

 “Where is—Oh…” Before asking her question, she realized what I meant. “I’m so sorry, Toji. I shouldn’t have invaded like that.”

 “Nah, it’s okay. It… was a while ago.”

 “Is that why you said your mind feels like a Formula One track?”

 I manage to let out a hoarse chuckle. “Yeah. Her death affected me and my son badly, but we’re handling it differently.”

 “Not everyone's grieving process is the same,” she reassures. 

 “Right, but does it normally cause your kid to hate you?”

 Why am I saying this? Why am I showing my vulnerability to a woman I just met two hours ago? In the middle of a fucking bar for Christ’s sake. I can’t even blame it on the alcohol because I don’t drink. 

 All I wanted to do was fuck Y/N until she’s screaming my name, but that sole intention went completely out the door the more we talked. 

 My slight insecurity from my vulnerability isn’t even because of Y/N. She doesn’t look bothered or taken off guard from my confession. She just waits for me to talk… like she wants to listen to me. 

 She turns her body around to face me and while doing so, our knees brush. I don’t know if she felt that slight electricity when making contact, but I did. Hopefully she just has a good way of masking her reactions. 

 “Why do you think your son hates you?” 

 I shrug. “We’re just not as close as we used to be. It feels like his mom was the glue that kept us together. Then, when she died, so did my bond with Megumi.”

 A soft smile of pain shows on her face. “Megumi… that means blessings . She picked it?” 

 “I did, because that’s what he feels like.”

 “Hm, I see,” she says, simply. “I’m not a therapist, but I wouldn’t automatically assume Megumi hates you. Like I said, grief is different for everyone. I’m pretty sure it can cause distance between loved ones, too. I would say he’s still adjusting. Just like you are.”

 “Sure you’re not a therapist?”

 She pats my thighs without realizing what that does to me. “Nope, just a high school reading teacher.”

 “Sorry guys. We’re about to close. Mind paying your tab?” The bartender says to us. 

 Were we talking for that long? Guess that happens when conversation is good.

 “Ah okay.” Y/N reaches for purse to pull out her wallet, but mine is already out, giving enough cash to cover both of our bills with a tip. “You didn’t have to do that, Toji.”

 “Maybe I wanted to?”

 She doesn’t bother to argue with me. “Well— thank you.”

 “Let me walk you to your car?”

 “Oh, I don’t drive when I go out. Never know how much you’re going to drink.”

 “Okay, call your ride share and I’ll wait with you.”

 Y/N nods and starts walking towards the exit. I can’t help but take a look at her ass. So fat and naturally shaped. Her legs look so smooth. Thick. I want them to wrap around my waist while I pound into her. 

 And don’t fucking get me started on the top she’s wearing that shows a peak of her belly. I can tell she’s not wearing a bra.

Fuck, Y/N. 

 Why is looking at her making me sexually frustrated?

 Typically, I’m direct about my intentions. If the woman wants to fuck, cool. If not, also cool. But for some reason I can’t open my mouth to ask. My dick presses against my pants and I’m glad I wore black tonight rather than my normal grey sweats. 

 “Looks like my ride is about five minutes away,” she says. “I had a really good time talking to you, Toji. Your company wasn’t bad.”

 “Better than that motherfucker from before?” I ask.

 She rolls her eyes at the thought of him. “Way better. Gosh, that guy was so fucking annoying. He does that every time I come here. I’m hoping since you showed up, he won’t be an issue anymore.”

 “He won’t.”

  She arches her brow. “Why so sure?”

 “I think I made my scary boyfriend message clear,” I joke. 

 “Ha, ha, real funny.” Silence is now between us. We look at each other, and on her face is a soft smile while mine is probably the same. 

 Unlike before, Y/N doesn’t shy away. Instead, she speaks. 

 “Can I be honest?” 

 “Sure.”

 “I want to kiss you, but I’m not sure if it would be appropriate,” she admits. 

 “And why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you vented to me about your late wife, which is perfectly fine. I appreciate you being that comfortable with me. I just don’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

 I chuckle. “You can’t take advantage of me.”

 She places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight onto one leg. “Is that your way of consenting to a kiss?” 

 “Can I be honest, too?” She nods. “I want to do more than just kiss you, but I would be no different from that shithead.”

 “No, you would. The difference is you’re not a creep and I’m consenting to your honesty, which I’m attracted to.” Y/N closes the space between us. Even with heels, she still looks up to me because of my height. “Consent is sexy.”

 “I agree,” I affirmed, cuffing around her chin to tilt higher. The whiff of her sweet alcoholic breath fills my senses, and that alone can make me drunk. 

 Her breath hitches. “Do you?” 

 “I do.”

 “Kiss me, Toji.”

 And I do. I kiss her hard. Aggressively. Passionately that has my blood rushing straight to my groin. Y/N’s lips are so fucking soft, sweet, succulent, every descriptor you can think of while kissing someone as pretty as her. 

 I force her mouth with my own, licking around to explore and get a better taste of her. She whimpers and I utter fuck from how sexy she sounds. That alone can tell me she’s probably needy, proving my point that she would take my cock in her pussy like I’m all she knows. 

 Like I give a fuck about us being in the middle of the street, making out like we’re horny college kids. I want to feel more of her, this fucking body of hers that I know I will have wet dreams about and fist my cock to in the shower when I wake up the next morning.

 “Y/N, can I–” 

 “Stop talking,” she whispers. It’s like Y/N knew what I was going to ask because she cut me off by grabbing my hands to place on her ass so I could squeeze.

 Fuck, it’s so soft and big. It feels jelly and perfect in my hands. While I busy myself with my own, her hands slip through my locks to deepen our kiss. Her full lips overpower mine, sucking and biting on my bottom lip.

 It’s not a want, but I need to fuck her.

 Now. 

 “Let me fu-” And before I was able to ask, the honking of her rideshare interrupted our heated kiss, reminding us we’re not alone.

 We break apart and ogle at each other. Those pretty fucking eyes roars with pure lust and hunger. Her lips are swollen, gloss completely gone from my excessive sucking. 

 My hand is still at her ass while the other feathers along her collarbone and the mountain of her breasts, causing her breaths to shallow. I pull her closer to me so she can feel what she did to me.

 Again, the driver honks the car and I’m two seconds away from breaking his window if he doesn’t fucking wait. 

 “I can come over?” I ask.

 “I want you to, but I can’t. Not tonight,” she declines. “School night. I’m already out later than I planned. Now it’s going to be harder for me to go to sleep after-”

 “This.” I wrap my hand around her throat to give her a quick sensual kiss.

 “Yes,” she breathes, squeezing my arms. “After that.” 

 Y/N hesitantly breaks away from me to head into the backseat of the car. I open the door for her, but before she goes in, I grab her arm to pull back into my chest so I can kiss her–again. 

 She’s just so fucking addicting

 “Toji, I have to go,” she tells me with a smile on her face. 

 “Alright, alright.” I let her go so she can get in the car and roll down the window. “You say not tonight. So when? “Hm, I’ll let you know,” she teases. The driver got sick of our shit, so he slowly started driving away but kept close enough for me to hear Y/N. “Good night, Toji Fushiguro.”

 “Night, Y/N.” And she’s gone, leaving me in front of the bar with a hard dick and pornographic thoughts. 

 Y/N is so fucking sexy, and she’s a good woman. Has a career that she loves. A good listener and honest without coming off as judgemental. Not like it would hurt me if she did, but I didn’t realize how calming it felt to talk to a stranger about my lack of confidence with being a single dad. She’s almost like a ray of… sunshine. 

 Too perfect for me.

 We didn’t even exchange numbers, so the likelihood of me fucking her is slim to none. 

 Oh well. Maybe I was only meant to meet her to hear her reassurance and taste her lips… feel her ass… 

 Shit, my dick is harder than before.

 Jacking off isn’t going to work. Not tonight . 

 I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts to see who can help alleviate my pleasure. 

 Maybe I’ll run into Y/N someday. Hopefully in this lifetime. 

NEXT CHAPTER

[beanarie]

here's another scene for the fic i posted a day or two ago. alternate title: rip philip buckley.

the messenger part two

"I don't want to go," Evan said.

Tommy glanced up from the flight listings on his tablet. Since finishing his delayed shower (alone), Evan had perched on the far end of the bed with his back turned. "All anyone there knew was a nineteen year-old who failed at everything. It- It was never home."

Tommy put the tablet aside. "Evan, I don't give a shit if you go or not." That was blunt even for him, bordering on cruel, but Evan gave a watery laugh. He heard what Tommy didn't say. You're the only thing I care about. Make the decision that's right for you.

Evan made a sad sound and crawled into Tommy's arms. "She's going to be so much," he grated out, his head against Tommy's chest. It wasn't comfortable. Evan ran warm as a baseline. Tonight he felt like he had a fever. "I don't think I can handle it. But I can't- I can't do that to Maddie. What kind of garbage person would make her deal with that alone?"

Tommy ran his fingers through Evan's damp hair. "Maddie won't be alone." Her husband was literally one of the best people Tommy had ever met. Howie had grabbed her hands the instant she and Evan had separated, and hadn't let go of her the entire time. He'd still been holding on when they'd left, Evan bringing up the rear toting a sleeping Jee-Yun.

"Not the same," Evan said, which was true, but Tommy didn't care, not right then.

Tommy looked over at his buzzing phone. "Listen-"

Evan didn't shake. He vibrated, a low level hum throughout his body. "Just let me pretend for a minute that we're not going."

"Okay."

One hand made a loose fist, gathering the fabric of Tommy's shirt at the small of his back. "We're gonna stay here on the other side of the country while they bury my dad. I won't have to hear my mom crying like her heart is in worse shape than his was. No one will tell me I'm a bad son who never came to visit."

Tommy rested his chin on the top of Evan's head. An angle his neck didn't enjoy, but it was worth it. "If anyone so much as thinks that in your direction, I will punch them in the throat."

Evan ran his fingers down Tommy's forearm. "They didn't even tell us he was having surgery."

"Would it have helped?" Tommy asked in all sincerity. They'd both witnessed death numerous times. Was it better when loved ones could see the loss coming? Not always.

"I don't know," Evan admitted. "But things were- they were better, you know? We talked on purpose sometimes and it went fine. I don't understand why they didn't at least tell Maddie."

"Do you think she'll try to throw it in your face at some point?"

Evan flinched, proving Tommy's guess had hit its mark. "God, I- I hate thinking of her that way. She's my mom."

"Motherhood doesn't come with emotional regulation, unfortunately."

"She was better," Evan said again. He exhaled loudly. "Maybe it- it won't be so bad."

"Maybe. I'm here regardless."

After a moment of silence, Evan lifted himself up with a hand on either side of Tommy's hips. They kissed quietly, and he laid his forehead on Tommy's shoulder. "What did I do," he asked, almost to himself. "What did I do to deserve you?"

If pressed, Tommy could rattle off a list. But Evan didn't need to hear about his willingness to set himself on fire for someone he loved, or about how he could see in a glance that Tommy was having a bad day, about how quickly he'd learned what Tommy needed at times like those. "You were you. That's all you ever needed to be."

[livingformintyoongi]

Cruel Summer | Hyung Line

I've been working on this for quite some time because I've been busy making the requests. Even though I still have a few more to go, I wanted to post it because it's really something I'm very excited about ^^

Taglist: @thunderg @drpepperobsessed @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @zent9 @superbbananananana

Jin: “It’s cool, that’s what I tell ‘em/No rules, in breakable heaven/It’s a cruel summer/With you”.

You checked your phone for the third time tonight. There were no messages or missed calls. You were starting to get anxious.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" the soft voice of Soomin interrupted the mess that was starting to form in your head. Nothing was fine, quite the opposite. Jin had ignored all your messages and calls, you knew he was busy, but you were starting to worry, what if something bad had happened to him?

"I'm sure it's because of Seokjin" Chaeyoung said, absentmindedly eating a piece of fried chicken. She didn't look perturbed at all. You envied that about her. "Y/N, you know that what you're doing won't get you anywhere, why do you keep going?"

"It has nothing to do with that, and just so you know, we're getting along just fine" you replied quietly, taking your fruit smoothie and drinking it. "We don't need a name for our relationship, and we don't have to dedicate time to each other 24/7 either, it's like having a boyfriend, but with a lot less work", yeah, well, you didn't believe what you just said either, but neither of them need to know that.

"I thought you liked the idea of having a boyfriend" Sooah, who was at the other corner of the table, looked up from her book and studied you with that scary look she gave every time the gears in her head started turning. She seriously scared you when she made that face, "or are you just saying that to try to fool yourself just because you got used to his company and don't want to lose him anymore?".

It scared you how accurate her prediction was.

"Sooah, calm down" Yoori, one of your closest friends, rested her hand on your shoulder and gently rubbed it. A sympathetic smile appeared on her face and as soon as you saw her, you started to feel ashamed of yourself. Shit, did you look that bad for Yoori to see you that way? "Human relationships are complicated, don't be anxious about going through problems like that, it happens to everyone sometime."

"If you're so worried about him not answering, why don't you pay him a visit? Maybe he'll be glad to see you, after all he's the one who always comes looking for you."

The idea of going to his house on your own made you too nervous, especially since he had made it quite clear that he didn't like people showing up out of the blue there. He had mentioned something about how he was afraid the place would leak and some obsessed person would break into his house. That was one of the reasons he always went to your house, no one followed you to your front door.

"What if he gets upset?" you muttered with a slight frown.

"Tell him the reason you wanted to look for him" Soomin directed a smile so bright you almost smiled back, "If everything you've told us about him is true, he'll probably be very excited to see you."

You smiled helplessly. Jin was so much more than someone to hang out with and just have sex with. He was sweet, he loved to cook for you, to massage your back when you were too tense, or to kiss your face every time you saw him for a long time. He was the man of your dreams, everything you ever wanted in your life, so why did you have this feeling in your chest that there was something you still didn't see? Nothing could be completely perfect, you repeated to yourself every time you saw him, he couldn't be the exception.

"I'll walk you" Sooah stood up from her seat, taking her car keys and staring at you. Her blue eyes were such a contrast to the somber look she had.

"Thanks" you mumbled, taking your purse and dropping some money to pay your share.

The trip was too quiet. You loved Sooah, and you knew she loved you too. You've known her for as long as you can remember, so you understood that she wasn't cold, just distrustful. At some point in your friendship you ended up deciphering the kind of silences she gave. This one definitely gave you a bad feeling.

"You shouldn't write to him so much" she said in a raspy voice. It took you a while to figure out what she meant, "If he doesn't respond to the first message, indeed, if he deliberately ignores your call, why even make an effort to get him...whatever they have, to move on?"

"Why do you say he ignored my call?" You felt a tightness in your chest as you noticed how Sooah's hands squeezed the handlebars of the car until her knuckles went pale. She knew something. 

"Why don't you better find out for yourself?" she replied after a few minutes of silence. She parked the car in front of the house and turned to look at you. 

"You know something, don't you?" your lips tightened tightly as you noticed that no words were going to come out of her. You were afraid of her answer, obviously, but you didn't want to be left wondering.

A sob, too loud and high-pitched to belong to a man, pulled you out of the staring war you began to have with Sooah. You both turned to see where the noise was coming from. You immediately wished you hadn't.

You could feel Sooah's gaze on the back of your head, but she didn't say a word. You only had eyes for Jin right now, to be more specific, you only had eyes for Jin and the girl who was clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

You wanted an explanation. Now.

"I saw her out with him this morning" you heard from the driver's side, "At first I thought she was a friend, but Namjoon told me she was Jin's ex-girlfriend. From what he told me, they've known each other since high school."

You understood her point. His ex-girlfriend from a few years ago shows up in a place as private as this, right in the middle of Jin's vacation, wearing a dress too fancy to be on the beach, and crying her eyes out on Jin's chest. The same chest you fell asleep on all night.

"I trust Jin" you whispered, not sure if you were saying it to Sooah or to yourself. Yes, you two weren't an official couple, but you had sworn exclusivity to each other until whatever it was you had was over. He promised you, face to face, it was the first time you saw him so serious.

You could hear Sooah's sigh. She didn't trust his word as much as you did.

You started nibbling on your lip with each passing second. The girl didn't seem to want to pull away, but Jin didn't seem to want to push her away either. 

"Y/N" Sooah gently took your elbow. You didn't look away from the couple in front of you. "I'm just trying to show you what kept him busy enough to ignore you..."

"I don't know if he did it on purpose," you said, raising your voice and turning to look at her. You felt terrible to see Sooah's hurt look at your shout. You had never raised your voice to her before. "She's just a friend and..."

You frowned as you saw Sooah's eyes widen in surprise. She was looking behind you. It was only at that moment that you realized that irritating sobs were no longer audible.

You turned around fast enough that your neck hurt like hell itself. And then you saw it. The idiot was kissing her. He was grabbing her waist just like he did with you when he greeted you or said goodbye. 

"I..."

"Start the car, please" you mumbled, looking away from Jin and fixing your eyes on the street, it looked much more interesting now.

"Yes" she moved the key and the engine started to sound. You thought you heard Jin's voice behind you, but you preferred to think it was just your imagination.

A strong urge to get home and brush your teeth and body flooded you. You felt dirty, stupid and very, very upset. You took a long sigh, trying to get your rational side over the urge you had to hit him.

It wasn't until Sooah held out some tissues she pulled out of her trunk that you realized tears were streaming down your face.

"I'm fine" you whispered, wiping your face and keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

"I know" Sooah replied, taking your hand on the dashboard, "I just wanted to make sure you noticed too."

Yoongi: “"I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? He looks up grinning like a devil”.

"Need help with that?" said Yoongi mockingly, pointing at your fumbling hands trying to fix the shorts you were wearing that night. It was hard to do in such a confined space.

"No thanks, I've got it under control" you grunted, pulling your feet up onto the trunk so you could give yourself a boost and pull your clothes up until they were around your waist. "And I'm sure you're much better at taking them off than putting them on." 

You tried to ignore his annoyed chuckle, looking at yourself in the rearview mirror and fixing your hair just enough so it didn't look like you'd just had the best night of sex of your life. 

"Do you need me to drop you off in your room?" Yoongi rested his palm on your thigh, caressing the soft skin with his fingertips. You had a hard time holding back the urge to laugh at the tickle he was giving you.

 "I'd love to let you come into my room and do whatever shit couples of friends with benefits would do, but unfortunately I have a tick named Jiah tonight, and I definitely don't want her to see or hear me having sex with you, so, thanks, but no" you removed his hand from your thigh and moved closer to him, kissing him deeply.

His hand stopped at your waist and caressed the exposed skin, sending shivers up and down your spine. It felt so good to be touched by Min Yoongi. You would never admit it in front of him.

"Go back carefully" you said between kisses and giggles. You wanted to go inside soon, before your lustful side won out over your rational side and you decided to leave your friend alone and sneak into Yoongi's house. You hated how he knew you well enough to know that if he kept kissing you like that you would end up giving in. 

"There, that's enough, I have to go" you whispered, grabbing Yoongi's cheeks and pulling him away just enough so that your lips didn't brush against each other. 

"Fine" he growled through his teeth, letting go of your waist and allowing you to open the door.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before quickly stepping down and entering your colorful two-story house. You smiled as you noticed that Yoongi wasn't going to leave until you were inside the house. It took you a while trying to find your keys, decorated with too many cat key chains and desserts. When you opened the door, you turned around and blew him a kiss with laughter. You could see through the window as Yoongi's rubbery smile. God, you still didn't understand how that gorgeous man had agreed to go out with you.

You walked into the house, leaning your back against the door and sighing heavily. You were sure you had a stupid smile on your face, you hoped he hadn't seen it before you walked in.

"I see you did a lot better than me," you looked towards the kitchen, smiling as you saw Jiah walking towards you with a cup of coffee. You loved that mug, it had lots of baby kittens frolicking on top of some flower pots; between cursive letters it said 'for the best friend in the world'.

"You think?" you grabbed the mug she was offering you and took a small sip. It tasted very sweet, just the way you liked it. You couldn't help but groan in satisfaction. "Why don't you tell me about it after I take a shower? I feel too dirty, did you know riding a horse could leave you sweating so much?". You mentally crossed your fingers that I wouldn't dig into that any further.

"Don't worry, go" Jiah sent you a soft smile. Too bad it didn't reach her eyes. You wanted to kill whoever it was that had left her so down. "I'm tired anyway."

Before you could answer her, she went to the kitchen and turned on the water, starting to wash the dishes. You preferred to leave her alone, she seemed to want some time alone.

You went upstairs to your room, rummaging through your pillows for your pajamas. As you were trying to get a towel out of the bathroom cabinet, the notification sound of your cell phone alerted you, causing three towels to fall on you. You walked awkwardly to your phone, unlocking the screen and pursing your lips to keep from smiling like a maniac. 

You ran to your window, opening it as quietly as you could. You covered your mouth so the laughter that wanted to escape wouldn't come out and give you away. Your laughter is very loud.

Yoongi raised his hand and pointed his finger at his own phone. You frowned, cocking your head to the side and trying to figure out what he meant. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, your phone rang again. You saw the screen, still with Yoongi's chat on it.

The message was short and to the point ‘Tomorrow at 3 PM, reservation at Piccolino, don't be late’.

You almost dropped your cell phone as you read the message. Tomorrow was your birthday, and that restaurant was your favorite place. You didn't even remember mentioning any of those things to him.

You turned to look at him, your mouth was wide open, you had no idea what to say or do, so you opted for the first thing that popped into your head. You raised your arms above your head, forming a circle. 

You felt your cheeks blush at the sight of Yoongi's smug smile.

You lowered your arms, watching as he looked down at his phone and moved his fingers rapidly over the keypad. Seconds later, your phone rang again.

‘Rest.’

You stared at the screen, specifically the three little dots that indicated he was still typing. 

You stifled a squeak as you read the last message. You turned to look at him, catching his slightly pink cheeks and his awkward movement as he put the phone back in his pocket. He gave you one last smile, this one a little more shy, and shook his head goodbye.

It took you a while to react, but by the time you did, Yoongi was no longer in your backyard. 

You grabbed your phone and logged into Yoongi's chat, rereading his last message.

With a beaming smile, you began typing your reply.

‘I love you too.’

And you sent it.

Hoseok: “I'm drunk in the back of the car/And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar”.

You took a big breath of air, dropping your head against the back of the cab chair you had just taken. Your stomach seemed to be on fire and every breath you took made you feel immensely nauseous. You knew it was a bad idea to drink a vulgar amount of alcohol and, worse, to mix drinks, but what else could you do? You didn't feel able to talk about this with anyone. Your friends were in a rather similar situation, how could you ask them for advice? And you'd better not even think about telling your mother, she'd kill you if she found out that you had a purely sexual relationship with Hoseok. Now that you thought about it, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

A soft vibration in your bag caught your attention. You opened your bag slowly, not because you didn't want to check your cell phone, but because you couldn't move properly due to the ridiculous amount of alcohol in your system. 

After several embarrassing attempts you managed to take out your cell phone, and the first thing that greeted you was a huge line of messages from Hoseok, most of them asking where you were, if you were well, asking if you had a problem or something like that. You pursed your lips, licking them with the tip of your tongue. 

You hated Hoseok. You hated that he was so sweet, that he was always worried about you, that he knew how you like to eat your meals, that he always lay on the left side of the bed because he knows you love to sleep on the right side, that he's always ready to run to you if you feel bad. You hated that he was so damn perfect, because that certainly didn't help the turmoil it generated in your feelings for him.

Before you knew it, a drop of salty water fell onto the lit screen of your cell phone, rolling slowly along all the messages that were reflected. You closed your eyes tightly and leaned your forehead against the edge of the pink glitter case you were holding, letting out all the tears you had been holding back since the beginning of the night.

You hated that you had noticed that you had feelings for him, and you hated yourself even more for not being able to face him and tell him how you felt, for having to resort to something as low as getting drunk to the point of no longer being able to take courage and tell him the truth. 

Take On Me by A-ha forced you to break away from your cell phone and look at the screen. By this point you didn't even feel surprised that he was the one calling you. He always did, to say goodnight, to wish you a good day, to remind you to eat all your meals, god, you weren't even sure if that was normal in a solely sexual relationship.

With your hands shaking slightly you hit the answer, bringing the phone to your ear, "Yes?" you practically whispered, burying your nails in the skin of your hands.

"Y/N?" you heard a long sigh from the other line, followed by a nervous sounding laugh, "I was so worried, I thought something had happened to you, you never leave messages on hold."

"I'm sorry" you wiped away your tears, ducking your head unconsciously. Hearing his voice calms you down a bit at first, but almost instantly you were upset again at the fact that he was calming you down. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Don't apologize, I guess I overreacted a bit" he laughed softly again, and you were sure he was most likely scratching the back of his head. "Hey...I was thinking about, you know, this weekend."

You bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes until you saw white spots. You didn't want to talk about this.

"I know we were supposed to get together at my place, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it, apparently my plumbing has a problem and I think it'll take them a while to fix it, but we could get together at your place!"

"No" you whispered, pressing your free arm against your stomach, the one that had decided to give you a painful pang just at this moment. "I don't want us to see each other again."

You were both silent for a few seconds, waiting to see the other's response. You honestly expected him to stop you, you waited for him to tell you not to leave, to insist on seeing you again. You wanted, no, you needed to hear those three words come out of his mouth, even if it was over the phone.

But Hoseok wasn't like that. He might be the sweetest guy in the world, but he would never say that thing you wanted to hear so badly. He would never fight for you or whatever it was you had. He wasn't brave.

"It's okay," he muttered. You listened as he took a long breath, only to then let it go in an equally long sigh, "Take care of yourself."

"I will."

And you cut.

You lifted your head, wiped away your tears and looked out the window, gazing out at the beautiful beach you thought you'd be on your entire vacation.

Namjoon: “It's new, the shape of your body/It's blue, the feeling I've got”.

"Why do you always leave so quickly?" you muttered, settling down on Namjoon's bed and directing your gaze to his nearly naked body.

"What do you mean?" he pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair with his hand and picking up what appeared to be a rather worn notebook and a pencil with bites on the end.

"Whenever we're done you leave" you took his pillow between your arms, resting your chin on it, "Are you afraid of me or something?". 

Namjoon chuckled softly, looking up at you from his post next to the desk, "Why would you scare me away?"

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm so serious" you kept your gaze fixed on him, his expressions, his body language, absolutely everything. You wanted to understand why he seemed to be so cold and warm with you at the same time, "or maybe you are intimidated by people who look you so much in the eyes, there are many reasons, I could give you quite a long list if you wanted".

"It'll be useless, you'll never find a reason why I'd freak out on you" he broke away from his desk, moving closer to the bed and sitting down next to you. You couldn't help but close your eyes as you felt his hand fall on your head.

"Why?" you whispered, taking his wrist and stroking it gently.

"Because the last thing I feel for you is fear," he said as he tangled his fingers in your hair. Rarely did you have it as messy as you did now, rarely did you look as calm as you did now. Namjoon had to endure the constant tingling he felt in his fingers.

"Then why did you seem to be running away from me? It makes me feel... strange" you sighed heavily, shifting your position. The ceiling seemed much more interesting right now.

"I'm sorry it looked like that" Namjoon bent down slightly, leaving a soft but lingering kiss on your forehead, "but I promise it's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?"

"Do you think you could give me about... three days to answer you? Just three." 

You turned to look at Namjoon, frowning slightly. You didn't quite understand why he needed so much time, but you also didn't feel like you could deny him that when he saw you with that beautiful, mesmerizing look he had.

"Okay" you nodded slowly, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him get up and head back towards the exit of the room.

"I promise I won't let you down, babe," he said with a big smile before leaving. 

And, again, you were beginning to feel a deep emptiness in your chest and a sense of loneliness that gave you a sort of claustrophobic feeling. 

Just three more days, you told yourself, just that.

Masterlist

[grievedeeply]

the less time the better. pt 9.

PREVIOUS | SERIES TAGLIST

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: you make a trip to midgard and try to cope with brok's death.

notes: again not a lot of heimdall this chapter but...... y/n needs a moment (or multiple) LOL enjoy everyone and thanks for all of the support! probably 2-3 more chapters depending on how long i make them. decided to add more recent people to the taglists, but if you want to be removed let me know at any time! tws: a VERY dead brok. a lot of angst, probably an ooc sindri but i just wanted a nice scene where reader gets to open up to someone about faye and how hard it was for them to deal with her death. this felt like a good time to do it with a comforting moment between them and sindri.

the silence was deafening.

usually the branches of the yggdrasil felt like nothing. they weren't affected by the weather of the 9 realms, as they were the things literally holding them up. but now, you felt strangely cold as you stood on sindri's doorstep.

10 minutes ago, brok was alive. he was making jokes as he always did, but now... he was gone. he was gone forever, and there was nothing you or anyone else could do to bring him back.

"father," your brother's voice cut you out of your thoughts, "where are we going?" he asked, taking his place by your side. you subconsciously wrapped your arm around his shoulder. you knew atreus far too well and you knew that he would blame himself for brok's death. he was the one who wanted to find tyr, but he wasn't the only one who was fooled by odin's ruse, either.

how didn't you notice it? you had never met the real týr before, but you could only assume that he was a god who put the needs of others before himself. could he still be alive? if he was, could you ever think of him as týr, and not the man odin portrayed him as? he was a god with an incredible reputation and an even better legacy— a god of war who advocated for peace. you could only imagine how he would feel, knowing his image was used for something as cruel as deception.

"home." your father responded. he lifted the key to the mystic gateway, and the door opened. you followed after him wordlessly, and atreus matched your step. he still hadn't moved out of your grip yet and a part of you didn't want him to at all.

your feet touched the branches once again, and your thumb pressed into atreus's shoulder, running circles against his armor. he had gotten so big. where had the time gone?

"father, can we.. i.. i wanna go hunting," he said.

"i will follow."

"we're with you, atreus."

the door to midgard opened, and you stepped through silently. you were met by the cool breeze and light snow hitting you face. the last time you were here was because you were going back to asgard. heimdall wouldn't be with you now if you hadn't went back. you wondered how he was doing back at the house. it was probably just as quiet there. brok was usually the one keeping the place lively.

"which way we headed, lad?" mimir asked.

"in.. the direction of deer." he responded simply. you let go of him, but didn't move to follow him. your father turned to look at you. his eyes were filled with a sadness that you had only seen a few times in your life. when your mother died.. when atreus was ill.. and now, at the death of a friend. "go on," you said. "i'll catch up. there's just.. something i want to do here first." you told him.

"i understand." he murmured in response. you put on a smile, the smallest on you could muster, as a way to reassure him. atreus needed this alone time with him. you would have your moment some other day. he needed this.

"be careful," he said to you. you nodded. he turned, following after atreus. he was probably already visiting with speki and svanna by now. those wolves of his were far too intelligent for their own good. you were sure they knew something was wrong. you doubted he would even notice you were gone right away, and you couldn't blame him for it either.

you looked away from your father's back as he walked away from you and instead turned to look at your house. it was a tiny thing, practically built with sticks and prayers, but it held strong and always did what it was supposed to do. it kept you safe. it kept you safe from baldur all of those years ago, and again with thor and odin. you remembered thor breaking the ceiling as he threw your father and his hammer through it, but even then you knew he would be alright. he always was.

you pushed open the door, and it creaked on it's hinges as it always did. you kicked the snow off of your boots before you stepped inside. it was something your mother did every winter before she died, and you picked up on it at a young age. you closed it behind you and took in a deep breath. in a way, it still smelt like her. your mother's presence was all over the home. no matter how long she was gone, you would always feel her here in midgard.

you ran your fingers across the wood of the walls, and closed your eyes. what would you say to her now, if she were here? what would she say to you?

you thought of the dream you had with her in it, where she told you about the importance of making your own decisions. you could only hope she would be proud. you did exactly what you thought was best, without anyone else's input. if you hadn't gone back to asgard, heimdall wouldn't be on your side. he fought beside your father. he fought for you.

you breathed deep, letting the smell of the wet wood fill your nose. heimdall had changed so much since the first time you met. he was arrogant back then, selfish and cruel. now.. he felt like someone else entirely. was that because of you? if you hadn't shown up— dodged his attacks like they were nothing— would he still be loyal to odin? yes, you supposed. he would be. the thought of changing him made you feel good, like you had finally done something right. going back to asgard was worth it because you helped him see the truth. he hadn't spoken about it, really.. but you hadn't asked about it, either. you figured that he needed the time alone to think, but you would be sure to talk to him whenever you got back to sindri's house.

sindri.. the thought of him filled your heart with sadness. before, he never slipped into the realm between realms in plain sight like that. he always went behind something. you always guessed it was the polite thing to do.. but he had done it directly in front of everyone that time. you had to see him, soon. let him know that you were there for him. you'd been through loss too. losing anyone was hard, but family even harder. you couldn't ever imagine losing atreus. you didn't want to think about it.

you sat down on your old bed— a bed that you haven't slept in in weeks— and sighed. things had changed so much since the day you departed to spread your mother's ashes. you never would've met brok and sindri if it wasn't for that journey. or mimir.. or freya. you met almost everyone you cared about because of her. even heimdall, now. it was weird, saying you cared about him. but you did. you couldn't change that now.

you lied down. your head touched the pillows, and you took in another breath. you had spent so much time here with your mother. this was the place she died, too. at home and warm. at least you could give that to her.

it felt like hours before you got up again, but in reality, it was just a few minutes. everything here reminded of her, and you were glad for it. just thinking of her kept her with you. you never wanted that to change.

you thought back to your dream once again, and pushed yourself to your feet. the river you fished in so many times with her wasn't too far from the house. before she got sick, the two of you would venture out further downstream. in one of those places on the river.. that was where your dream took place. it was the peak of her life with you. but as her illness progressed, she became too tired to fish. she would go out less and less, staying closer to home. you would fish for her, but you were never as good as she was. still, you would come home with a pail full, and she would praise you for it.

you would do anything to hear her voice again.

you opened the door once more and stepped back out into the cold. you had spent so much time in midgard during fimbulwinter, but you swore you would never get used to the weather. you made your way into the woods, and you were met with the river once again. it hadn't changed much over the years, even though it had been some time since you had visited. after her death, you came less and less. the memory of her was too painful, and all fishing did was remind her of her and how she was gone.

you took in a quick breath through your nose and stepped into the water. she had told you once that you would get used to the cool temperatures of the water, and she was right. you didn't shiver or flinch at the cold. instead, you welcomed it like a warm blanket that washed over you.

"i miss you." you whispered. somehow, you knew she was listening. the world was unfair for taking her away so soon. "i love you." you told her. you swallowed the lump in your throat. would she be able to meet brok again? you could only hope so. the thought of it put a smile on your face. at least he wouldn't be alone in the afterlife. he would be with a friend.

you closed your eyes and took in the scenery. the sound of the breeze rushing through the trees, the chirping of birds and cracking of twigs under the weight of an animal somewhere.

it would be okay, you told yourself.

just one more minute.

you hadn't been to týr's temple in a long time.

you hadn't needed to, after all. with all of the towers closed in every realm and no way for travel, you never needed to go back. and now, it was still unable for use. no matter how many times you passed by it while hunting, you never stopped inside until now.

you knew this is where sindri would be though. this is the place where he made up with brok. this is where he would be, and you were sure atreus knew that too. you were sure that he and your father had already paid him a visit themselves, but you wanted to on your own. you needed to let him know you were there for him, even if he pretended he didn't need it.

it was a long walk from home, which meant you had plenty of time to think. plenty of time to blame yourself for brok's death in the first place. how could no one have noticed? you tried not to think about it too much. he wouldn't want blame being passed around. you knew that.

you sighed as you pulled yourself up the stairs. now covered in ice, you remembered when the lake was water. atreus was much younger then— much smaller. once again, you thought of the good young man he was becoming. it hadn't truly been that long since that journey and yet.. it felt like lifetimes ago.

you stared up at the doorway and pushed it open with little struggle, only a grunt escaping your lips as you did so. the inside was much warmer, and you welcomed the feeling. the familiar sound of hammering filled your ears, and as you looked, you were greeted by sindri's back. brok's body lay on the table to his side, and you blinked away your emotions. this wasn't about you.

"go away," he said without even turning to look at you.

you cleared your throat, taking an awkward step closer to him. sindri was different. his clothing was covered in blood and dirt, and so were his arms. he hadn't cleaned since brok died. how much of that was his blood? you bit at the inside of your cheek, trying your best to shove the thought out of your head.

"sindri.." you started. what was there to even say? you didn't know. instead, you stood there. after a few moments of agonizingly long silence, he turned to face you. he sat the hammer down with a thud on the table, and you felt small under his gaze.

"what?" he snapped. now that his face was in the light, you could see how red his eyes were. he had been crying. you wished there was something more you could do, but.. there was nothing you could do to bring brok back, and that was what sindri wanted.

"i just.. wanted to let you know that i'm here." you told him.

you swore you saw his gaze soften.

"i know you probably don't want company right now or.. or anything like that," you swallowed, "but i just.. had to tell you that." you murmured.

sindri remained silent. he looked away from you and towards the ceiling. you only wished you could read his thoughts. he had become someone completely different. yesterday he was happy. despite the fact of ragnarok looming over him, he was happy because he had his brother there.

"i can't imagine.." you whispered out to him, lips pursed together. "i couldn't ever imagine losing atreus. i'm.. so sorry." you told him. by now, you were standing on opposite sides of the table he had spent so much time working at.

"that's what he said." he said. "atreus." he can barely force himself to say his name.

"i figured he would come."

silence fell over the room again and suddenly, sindri shook his head.

"you don't.. you don't get to be sorry." he said. "you still have your brother. because of him and because of you— i will never have mine back." sindri laid his hand on brok's chest. you felt a pang shoot through your chest at his words, but you didn't argue. you couldn't do that to him. you looked down at brok's body. you had to look at him. that was the least you could do.

"i know." you muttered.

"he brought him into my home." he whispered. "and he.."

"i know."

he looked back up at you, gaze narrowed. you could practically see the whirlwind of emotions going through his mind just by looking at is eyes.

"what do you know?" sindri asked quietly.

"i know what loss feels like." you said simply. "when my mother died, i was.. i was inconsolable. i needed her with me to.. to function, to live." you took in a breath, heavy through your lungs.

"my father.. none of us ever told you what happened to her, did we?"

at his silence, you took it as your que to continue.

"she got sick."

his brow furrowed.

"sick? faye?" he asked quietly. you nodded.

"i thought.. how could a woman as strong as her get sick like this? how could she be healthy one day and then in her deathbed a few weeks later? i didn't understand it. i still don't. but i.. i know what it's like to grieve, sindri. i understand."

he only looked at you.

"i know my apologies won't bring brok back." you murmured. "but i.. just need you to know that i'm here for you."

he swallowed. his took a deep, shaky breath. you knew your words meant very little, but if they provided any sort of comfort to him, your trip out here would be worth it. sindri squeezed brok's hand.

"it's all my fault." you heard sindri murmur under his breath. "what?" you asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. "brok.. he died. before." he told you.

"when he.. when he died, i couldn't handle it. i went to the lake of souls and i jumped in. i.. found pieces of his soul. all of them except for one." he whispered, unable to tear his eyes off of his brother. "and now he.. doesn't have them all. he can't go anywhere. he's ceased to exist."

"that's not your fault." you told him without missing a beat. "brok.. what he said before.." you cleared your throat as sindri's gaze finally shifted up to you. "he said he forgave you. this.. that's not on you. he understood." you muttered softly. he blinked a few times, running his thumb across the back of brok's hand. tears filled his eyes, and you forced yourself to give him a comforting smile.

he said nothing in response.

"can i.. say a prayer?" you asked, your gaze shifting from brok's body to sindri's eyes. he could only nod as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

you breathed deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth. while you didn't have the items you had when you were mourning your mother.. you didn't mind. you doubted brok would've wanted something fancy like that anyway.

"lo, there do i see my mother," you whispered.

"lo, there do i see my father.." you continued, falling onto one knee next to the table. "and my sisters and my brothers. lo, there do i see the line of my people. back to the beginning. lo, there do they call to me. they bid me take my place among them in the halls of valhalla."

"where the brave may live forever."

you finished, pressing your forehead against brok's arm. he was cold. stiff. the last time you did this, it was for your mother. it was the exact prayer you and atreus had said before her funeral. you swallowed, feeling pressure build up in your throat. you stayed there for a moment, and sindri watched you wordlessly.

you knew there was no valhalla for brok. but he was brave. and he would live forever within you, within everyone who loved him.

you pushed yourself to your feet, turning your attention back to sindri. "thank you." you said to him, and he nodded once again. "i'll.. be at the house." you muttered, turning on your heel to leave him to his thoughts. you swore you could feel him watching as you left.

you pushed the heavy doors open and stepped back into the cold of midgard.

lo, there do they call to me. you repeated to yourself.

lo, there do they call to me.

tags: @ic-yourface @alisblackgf @engardeitsme @venfia @dijanur @s1mpss @gorepitt @callalillie15 @bluehorizon987 @vanserrar @trippingoverstars @mysiax @beaniebear152 @rei64bit @neverendingdumptser @a-bunny13 @lei-leigha @candy4bonez @yyourmotherr @blobdrake-theory @zarizee @rainygamingstreamingturtle @kise-kae @aesthetic-of-a-director @unodostrescuatrolove @nixeustheclamity @aiciteaa @multifand0m-gal0re @chibi668 @wonderkive @lentillo @luffysoctopus @elizabeth-hatake @black-star1472 @lacm-ac @sxmirae @maggot-baggage @emc2beans @suzumi-hiddenmistclan @white-lyra @lmorg149 @iamverydreamy @giornos-curls @reinabxitch @ourchampionofthesun @paintmekala @the-eternal-sunflower @alextric-overload @lynn-haitani @prettysurethatsakidney @justsomereaderwholikesanime @emmbny @kukungi @sweetdayme4427 @mimiissia

[talanashta]

(Initially) Unwilling

For @metalsandwichbingo square B1 "(initially) unwilling roommates"

Rating: T | CWs: Lots of Swearing, Mentions of Injuries | Word Count: 1,161 | Pairings: Steve/Eddie, pre-Steve/Eddie/Billy

Summary: Steve wakes up in the hospital after the events of S3 to find he's sharing the room with a... very unexpected roommate.

A/N: First time making a moodboard-thing to go with my fic, so if you have any tips to make them look better, shoot them my way!

When they’d brought Steve into the hospital room after getting his head scanned, his temporary roommate’s curtain was wide open, and the bed was empty.  The nurse, however, warned him it wouldn’t be for long.

“He’s in surgery, right now,” she told him.  “We’ll try to keep it down when we bring him in, since you need your rest.  Might not be ‘til morning anyway,” she added with a sweet smile.

Steve’s head hurt, and he was exhausted, so he just nodded and let her leave.  He really wanted Robin or Eddie right now, but Robin was sequestered away in a room somewhere else, fine but needing to be observed from the Russian drugs, and Eddie had been sent home once they admitted Steve, promising to come back at the start of visiting hours the next day.  Eventually, he managed to fall asleep.

He sort of remembers the couple times the nurses came and checked on him in the night, waking him up for a few minutes and asking him some questions before letting him doze back off.

When he properly woke up the next morning – 7:42 according to the clock over the door, almost visiting hours – he saw the curtains around the bed next to him drawn shut now.  His roommate must’ve gotten out of surgery while he was sleeping then.

He didn’t know what to do with himself to kill time until Eddie arrived.  His concussion meant his head felt like it was being split in two, the little light coming in through the blinds and the cracked door was like looking into the sun, and his face felt like it was on fire, probably from the swelling causing pinched nerves.  There was nothing to look at or distract him either, so he spent the next twenty-or-so minutes just staring at the speckled ceiling tiles until he heard the scuff of sneakers running on linoleum.

The door slammed the rest of the way open, smacking into the rubber bumper and causing a thud that made Steve flinch.

“Sorry, Stevie, sorry,” Eddie whispered frantically, re-closing the door to a crack and coming over, hands waving around Steve but not coming down to touch him.

“’s okay,” Steve mumbled to him.  “Glad you’re here.”  He tried to smile at his boyfriend, but the cut on his face and the swelling soon had him stopping.

“Yeah, I’m glad to be here,” Eddie said with a soft smile.  He started to lean in for a kiss before looking up at the neighbor’s curtains, pulling back with a grimace.  Instead, he tapped his fingertips to his lips silently, then ever-so-gently tapped them to Steve’s.

After he pulled his hand back, Eddie began looking around for a chair, but Steve knew there weren’t any in his room – probably to discourage guests from lingering.

“You’ll have to go steal one from the waiting area,” Steve slurred out weakly.  His head started to roll to the side, but he forced himself to keep looking directly at Eddie.

Eddie nodded to him.  “Kay, Stevie.  I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, Steve let his eyes drift shut, just for a minute…

Only to wake to a soft thud and a whispered “Fuck!” from Eddie coming back.  It looked like he bumped the chair right into the door frame.

“I just have to keep apologizing, don’t I?” Eddie asked him bashfully as he set down the chair at Steve’s bedside.

Steve heard a groan from behind the curtain next to him, and both his and Eddie’s heads shot over to look in that direction.

“Would you two shut up?” a familiar voice said angrily.  “I’m trying to recover from almost dying.”

“Hargrove?” Steve asked incredulously.  They put him in the same room as Hargrove?  Hargrove who beat the shit out of him one time Hargrove?  Hargrove who was just possessed and should probably be under government surveillance Hargrove?  What kind of massive fucking oversight was this?

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Billy said.  “They just reconstructed my abdomen, and I’m feeling pretty pissy there’s not a nurse here with more pain meds.”

Eddie gave him a look and touched his hand, so Steve nodded.

“I’ll go get the nurse for you, Hargrove,” Eddie said, standing up.

As Eddie left, Steve heard sheets rustling on the other side of the curtain, then Billy said bitterly, “Thank fucking God.  These nurses didn’t bother to put the fucking call button within reach of the guy who just had fucking surgery.”

Okay, sure, Steve kind of hated the guy, but he didn’t exactly wish bad things on his enemies, so he felt a little bad for Billy.  “Sorry, man,” he apologized.  “I’d come help if I could, but the room starts to spin when I sit up.  Eddie will be back soon with the nurse.”

The room was silent for a few long moments, until Steve heard a barely there, “Thanks,” that honestly, he might’ve imagined hearing.

Soon, Eddie came bursting back in the door – his boyfriend had such an overinflated sense of drama, but dear God, did he love that guy – with the nurse in tow, who promptly bustled off behind the curtain to help Billy.  Eddie returned to Steve’s bedside, squeezing his hand quickly once before pulling away.

“Uncle Wayne’s supposed to be by later today,” Eddie said in a promising tone.  “He really wanted to come sooner, but I told him he needed to sleep first.  He looked dead on his feet.  I hope that’s okay.”  He looked unsure.

Steve tried to pat him on the knee, but he was still feeling a little uncoordinated, so it was more like mid-thigh.  “It’s okay.  Wayne needs his rest too; he still has work tonight, right?”  It was a rhetorical question; Steve knew all three of their schedules like the back of his hand.  “I don’t want him to get hurt at work because he was too tired.”

He could practically see the hearts in Eddie’s eyes the way he was looking at Steve softly.  “Yeah.  I promised him I’d be here the whole time to make up for it, but I’d be here anyways.”

He looked like he was going to say more, but he was interrupted by the nurse sliding open the curtains around Billy’s bed then coming over to Steve.

“Just need to check your pupils real quick, sweetie,” the nurse said softly, pulling out a small light.

It took everything in him not to pull away when she shined it in his eyes multiple times.

“Looking much better than last night,” she told him.  “Meds will be in about an hour.  If you need anything before then, press your call button.”

After she stepped out the door, Hargrove turned his head to look at Steve and Eddie.  “Did I just hear that I’m stuck with you hanging around all day, Munson?” he asked them.  Then he said sarcastically, “Great,” and rolled his eyes.

Well, fuck you too, Hargrove.