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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months ago

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Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house.

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood, but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house. The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.” His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn��t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras.

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

“Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance. He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

"You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you." You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

*****************************************

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

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vieoeil-riae · 4 days ago

Text

yourself and I

steb/gn!reader

warnings: masturbation, caught masturbating (steb), hand jobs, eye contact, praise kink, submissive!steb, aspects of nonhuman genitalia (a lot more precome), porn with plot, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, selectively mute!steb, sign language (BSL), steb the bf hater as a treat, 18+ MDNI, 4.4k words

synopsis: You find familiar help when spiraling rent prices bite you, it sends Steb spiraling into guilty realisations of his own.

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection

Rent in Piltover was always extortionate. An arm and a leg, as well as your firstborn child would just about get you a dingy flat in the worst spot imaginable. You’d grumbled over it relentlessly, slowly being driven mad by flat after flat that you considered as being ‘alright’ ending up well out of your price range.

You’d confided in your childhood friend of course, silent, seemingly unbothered by everything, but an amazing listener once you looked just an inch past his quietness. God was it a relief, relationship drama; philosophical tangents; ranting about rent prices; even the most vulnerable secrets were safe in Steb’s capable hands.

It was only natural that years of sticking together and staying by his side — especially when people tried to oust him for his appearance and apparent dislike for talking — would foster the safe feelings between you. He was a haven of understanding.

“I’ve lost my flat, I’m losing my boyfriend, I’m so cold,” You grumbled, nearly yelling as your hands moved in time with your words — years of watching Steb sign to you baked into your habits, “and I have no fucking money!”

The two of you had been walking back from a hole-in-the-wall pub, somewhere where the food was cheap and the atmosphere was cozy. You’d fought to pay your share of the bill, insisting on not troubling Steb, and were promptly reminded that neither of you would ever be in debt with each other with several firm hand gestures. In short, he paid.

His ears had swivelled down at your words, not from the volume, but because he was concerned. He’d taken you out mostly as a way to console you when you’d shown up at his door with a tight lid on your emotions, but a sheen of tears clinging to your lash line.

Two weeks to find another place, was what you told him, and his frills had flared — a sharp twinge of his eyebrow evidence of the way he felt deeply irritated on your behalf.

Your boyfriend was another topic he knew intimately well. Too well. He didn’t like him, to say the least. Self-centred, lazy, stupid. A myriad of insults towards that man could be dredged from his mind, but not shared; not out of respect for him but for the sake of not upsetting you too much. You could do better, without question, he wasn’t against you losing him if he was being honest.

Steb had draped his coat over you despite the chill that brushed over his skin and walked you all the way back home, quietly and logically rolling around ideas on how to help.

The next day, you were surprised by the sight of your best friend standing in your doorway well past dark when you finally came home from work, ears pricking at the sound of your footsteps.

You could always stay with him, if you wanted?

And who were you to say no, you’d agreed quickly to sharing his space — a look of relief washing over your face. He really would’ve asked sooner if he knew that was the expression you would’ve made.

At the same time, maybe he shouldn’t have asked at all.

It was only natural that years of being so close had led him to be… partial to you. It made sense because to him, you’d always been ‘good’ in every way in his eyes; even the ugly parts, because they were yours, and you were beautiful, full stop. No, he’s not being biased, you just were — it was objective.

It had been a lingering thought in the back of his mind for years, coated in the plausible deniability of simple familiarity and friendship until the feeling’s cloak was lifted by the new, constant proximity to you.

You were everywhere all of a sudden. Your clothes were in his laundry hamper; your favourite foods were littered about the kitchen cupboards; he could smell you on the couch cushions — his frills fluttered as they nearly tasted the scent of your damp skin after you showered.

When exactly his feelings had become more than friendly, he wasn’t sure, maybe they’d always been that way, but it was starting to drive him mad.

You’d tell him about arguments you and your boyfriend had more and more frequently, his heart clenching at the thought of you being shouted at, cock woefully jumping at the thought of you shouting back. It was a guilty feeling, mind split between feeling the lewd ache of it and watching the curl of your lips, not paying the attention he ought to.

You’d wear pyjamas around the house, his heart growing warm and fuzzy at your comfort, biting the inside of his cheek when he eyed the sliver of skin revealed when you reached for anything on a high shelf. He blinked and caught the thoughts by the neck, you weren’t a piece of meat. But god, the stretch of your skin looked heavenly.

You’d touch him even more — from little brushes of your hands on his hips to gently shuffle him out the way to melting into his arms on the couch after a long day — his heart throbbed at the closeness, so did the rest of him. He prayed you never noticed the way his breathing picked up.

Steb tended to do the washing, a task off your back, a good distraction from your wonderfully consuming presence until he found himself blushing around your underwear and feeling like a pervert just for touching them, more so when he caught himself thinking much too hard about where the fabric had been pressed all day. He groaned quietly.

Fresh out of the shower, you looked like temptation; water still dripping down your collar bones and beyond until it finally met your towel. His eyes traced the droplets when he was sure you weren’t paying attention. You brushed your teeth together, he’d watch the way you’d gag brushing your tongue. Every action, completely innocuous until his mind decided it wasn’t.

It was wrong, so very wrong, to… sexualise you. You were his friend, not an object — you were spoken for as well. A confusing mix of possessiveness and a deep desire to hole up in a cave for several months swirled in his chest every time he thought about that. He couldn’t have you and his mind refused to help him stick to that, so he lived with a clenched jaw.

Guilt followed the way he enjoyed domestic moments with you, and it was getting ridiculous. It felt like he was barely treading water when all he was doing was washing the dishes while you dried them, two trains of thought blaring as he stared at stray water trickling down your bare forearms. Your hands carefully wiped the water off of a knife, your hand pulling the dishcloth up and down so smoothly, Steb blinked hard and tried to swallow the feeling in his throat.

It was like his birthday came early the day you’d finally had it with your boyfriend.

You’d stormed in, cursing up a maelstrom of swears and insults under your breath, collecting up trinkets and books and several hoodies before dumping them into a ratty bag. He watched you carefully, frozen in his place, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lukewarm cup of tea in his hands.

Admittedly you were, crudely put, hot when you were pissed, but admiringly eyeing the sharp way you moved around his flat came second to his concern for you. Steb rounded the counter, crouching a few feet in front of you so you could see his hands ask what had happened.

You’d seethed, the angry scrunch of your brow just a little less appealing when directed at him.

“You, with me. Now.” You’d gestured to the door with a harsh jab of your thumb, leaving no room for argument, though there wouldn’t have been a need for one anyway — he very much didn’t mind doing what you told him to.

He’d trailed you all the way to your boyfriend’s house and waited just at the gate while you pounded on the door. His ears pricked towards the conversation, admittedly (and guiltily) quite nosy about the ensuing spat. The door creaked open and god, how did a guy like that ever catch the eye of someone like you? Maybe he was being too judgemental…

“Your fish doesn’t like me.” Your boyfriend muttered, throwing an irritated glance over your shoulder at Steb.

“No, he doesn’t, and I don’t either.” You dropped the bag on the threshold, not flinching at the sound of something inside snapping. “Take your shit and don’t talk to me again, prick.”

You turned on your heel without another word. It was petty, maybe, but Steb used the last few moments he had before being dragged off to send a thinly veiled, judging glance at your now-ex-boyfriend — the almost stoic, but not quite, look sending your ex into a fit.

More softly, you’d confided in him later that night the words that brought everything to a close:

“‘Too much.’” You’d paraphrased to him, sat with your knees tucked to your chest on the window sill next to him. You looked so ethereal in the moonlight, his heart broke at the thought of you — someone he thought so dearly of — being treated with such dismissal.

He held you tightly, tracing kinder words into your back as he let your tears silently wet the scruffy collar of his well-worn jumper. You breathed in the smell of him, fresh but kind of salty like the sea breeze, until you relaxed entirely — enjoying the feel of his chest against yours, not knowing he was doing the same.

It became harder to distract himself from you after that, there was one less layer standing between him and giving in, one less layer of guilt when images of your nude body flashed through his mind, or how you’d feel; your hands, your lips, your mouth. It was like the blush on his cheeks never went away when you were around.

Though fantasising about you would be perverse, he got off, his palms and sheets a slick mess with the exertion, just trying to get rid of the aching before you got home. His wandering thoughts kept taking him back to you.

What would you sound like? Feel like? He knew from your rants how you liked to lavish your partner with affection, would you do that for him? He fought the image of your hands on him, giving himself to you, losing when he could almost feel your hands replacing his, saturating his senses with a burning pleasure.

His ears burned, hearing echoes of your words spin around his head. You called him beautiful and meant it, you called him a good man too — maybe you’d rescind that if you knew what his palms were doing, but the memory of your half-lidded, content eyes searching his gazing fondly into his made him sigh and arch into the feeling of his hands.

When you looked at him it was like the veil of his isolated existence dropped, like you were in his head and knew every thought like it was your own. You understood him, cut him slack he’d never give himself, but would you still offer him that if you knew? His heart clenched at the possibility you would, heady and electric bolts of want panging through his core.

He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, thumb stroking over the wet tip of his cock, trying to drown himself in the sensation — brows pinched in focus. If he just got off then maybe he could look you in the eye without the risk of you seeing how badly he wanted you.

He didn’t notice you’d come home, though.

You’d been excited about leaving work early, finally knowing what it was like to feel excited about the person waiting for you when you got back. Maybe it was rude to have a thing for your best friend who kindly let you stay with him, rude to play with how you remembered small moments and reimagine them so intimately.

But it was Steb of all people, kind, sweet Steb. Resisting the pull felt more impossible than ever. Maybe it was rude to be looking for him in the guys you dated, it was definitely why the last try failed — stoicism wasn’t dickheadedness when it was Steb, Steb was just calm to the untrained eye.

You’d finally admitted to yourself that the man you wanted was the one sharing a flat with you. You just didn’t want to ruin what you already had, you doubted he’d leave you forever but the thought of a new gap between you made your heart ache.

So you flustered awfully when you’d quietly walked past Steb’s bedroom. The slick sounds escaping through the crack in the door were obvious, especially with the lewd sliver of him you could see through it. You ached, you probably weren’t the cause of that and by all means ought to stop looking.

But you, basally, were greedy. Nature halted you in place, staring at Steb desperately stroking his cock.

It was pretty, he was pretty, you wanted to touch him, find all the little faces he could make. Maybe noises too, wouldn’t that be delicious? You were caught up, breathing heavy, unable to look away — tunnel vision set on the way his pre-come glistened in the low light because god, there was so much of it.

He yelped, snapping you out of the spiral you found yourself in, eyes locking with his through the crack. Getting him to make a noise that loud was a feat in and of its own, you couldn’t help but wonder if you could get him to make a similar one another way.

Maybe it was bad that he throbbed at the thought of you coming in, but the thought of you touching him was the only thing that sent a pang of heat through his gut for months, sent his frills fluttering. Shame, mild fear, and unrelenting desire coalesced in a fizzing way that made his cock jump between his slick palms.

You spoke before you thought, interrupting the way his still sticky hands came up to frantically sign apologies at you. “Can I help?”

Far less suave than you wanted, it came out desperate. You had the decency to look mildly surprised at your own words, especially when Steb’s jaw dropped; an intense blush coating him all the way to his shoulders, a shiver running down his back.

You had to control yourself when he cautiously nodded, shedding your jacket in the hall outside, gripping the door far too tight as you stalked towards him. Guilt weighed heavily in his eyes, you were familiar with the look, he blamed himself for a lot of things, but you wanted it gone.

“What’s with the face?” You questioned lowly, leaning over his bare body. It felt unfair, but the down-turn of his ears and now flattened frills sent a wave of satisfaction through you. “Imagining something bad?”

You watched his eyes widen, a caught look that bordered on panic splaying across his features as he turned to look away, but you weren’t having it. You pinched his chin between your fingers, turning his burning face back to you.

His index finger pointed towards you, your breath caught in your throat. He saw your surprise and started to fumble apologies, shaking fingers just barely cooperative enough to twist into the right words. You snorted lightly, the situation hitting you.

You leaned in.

“I imagine you, too.” You whispered against the shell of his ear, breath ghosting the sensitive tips through a smile and you felt his own breathing hitch against your neck. Your breath nearly burned, the world seemed to stop entirely at your words. The image of you touching yourself, his name falling from your lips, burrowed its way into his mind. Did you feel like he did, carnal, utterly perverse but as sharp as a live wire ready to snap?

He shivered against you, the thin, sensitive skin of his collar bones brushing against the material of your shirt.

You pulled back with a smirk, “why’d you stop?”

He blushed impossibly hotter as you knelt on the bed in front of him, eyeing him hungrily. You knew why, there was no way you didn’t, but you loved to tease him, prod him, make his hands spill his thoughts. You did it for conversation, to get in his head, you were doing it to force his hand and make him say what he wanted. A lewd twist, a new face of your affection.

‘You.’ His index finger pointed at your chest again.

“You can keep going, I’m not stopping you.” You shrugged off your shirt, the planes of your body revealed softer than your words. Steb was transfixed, finally seeing your skin a new light after all the years between you, not simply imagining it. You hummed. “But you’re considerate, aren’t you?”

He swallowed, pride blooming in his chest despite not knowing where you were going.

“You always think about what other people are thinking, what they could think. You don’t want to scare me off, is that it?” You probed, drawing in closer, never looking away from his eyes even when your hand found purchase on his thigh. Warmth flooded his chest, his ears twitched, and almost guiltily, he looked away from you as if he were afraid of how well you could read him.

“You can’t scare me off,” you whispered into his ear, hand trailing up the inside of his thigh — the delicate kisses of your fingertips making his cock twitch, “you don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.”

Your hand missed his cock, caressing his pelvis and drifting up as you continued to talk. “Wanna know something, Steb?”

He nodded shakily, shivering as your hands skimmed his sensitive sides.

“I think I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I look for your eyes when I’m interested in other people, do you know what I’m saying?” Your fingers brushed his nipple, pinching enough to make him draw a sharp breath before dancing up his chest. He shook his head and you cupped the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for you this whole time.”

You cupped his jaw, “I wanted you the whole time, because of course I did, how could I not?”

He could feel the weight of your stare, the honesty of your want, as well as the way his frills pulsed along his cheekbones. You wanting him seemed almost incomprehensible, but he wouldn’t deny you; the pooling of anxiety in his gut turned warm, nearly salivating at the thought of finally getting what he had always wanted.

He watched you carefully as you leaned in again, knee wedged between his thighs, barely brushing his throbbing cock.

“May I?” You asked sweetly, eyes darting to his lips and back up again. You, so willing to act, waited for him — you always cared. When his lips met yours it was like a jigsaw had fallen into place, the warmth of your lips against his, sweet and real, made everything make more sense.

You pulled away, murmuring adoringly. “You’re so soft, I like that, I like you.”

Kiss-drunk, you dove in for more, pressing Steb towards his pillows. Your hand brushed the seam where his fins met his scalp and he shivered into the hot press of your bodies, hips bucking his cock into your thigh. You spoke against his lips, calling him all sorts of pretty words, your other hand trying to memorise the feel of every inch of skin it could find.

You hand found the base of his cock, hard and slick, and you hummed happily into his mouth. You withdrew far enough to get a good look at his eyes, admiring the misty, deep blue of his blown-out pupils. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” Steb whispered, quiet and sort of raspy with disuse, but the keening pitch, the almost-broken quiver made his desire so evident. His hand moved with his word out of habit, the back of his fingers brushing the underside of your jaw as his flat hand moved down from his chin, and changed direction to cup your jaw.

“God, you’re so good to me, you’re so good.” You breathed, hand wrapping around his shaft, squeezing lightly and reveling in the way it made his shoulders jump. He was right to have imagined your hands feeling better, the lack of his control made the sensation taste sweeter, the feel of your hand giving his cock and experimental pump — careful of the frills — burn hotter.

“Fuck, you’re wet as hell, how long were you at it before I got home?” He let out the quietest whine at the strain in your authoritative voice, rutting into the twist of your hands over his cock frills. “You know, it’s kinda hot to think about you getting off on me. How long have you been pent up?”

Steb’s eyes rolled back, third eyelids stuttering over his foggy pupils as a needy thrum passed through his body. You watched his muscles twitch, his head roll to the side slightly, before you took his chin between your fingers and forced his eyes back to yours. “Don’t look away from me now, sweetheart, isn’t this what you wanted? What you’ve been wanting for a long while?”

A strangled noise caught in the back of his throat at the hungry way you looked at him, eyes dark and lidded and there was a pull to arch into you, showing you everything he could. He could goad you just as well, there was a sharp, intoxicating kick to watching you react to him; no wide, greedy pupils or heaving shoulders at the sight of his writhing were lost on him.

There was a swell of lewd pride in his chest and groin knowing he could make you like this, a thought just as enjoyable as the feeling of being under your hands. And it was nice to give you what you wanted, to scratch an itch deep in you with his body — there was an element of you using him like that that made the frills on his cock flutter.

He hissed at the feeling of you changing pace, watched your eyes trail down to his flushed cock and the sensitive frills decorating it, your fingers ghosting the very edges of them — sparks dancing along the trail your fingertips made.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You asked, more of a statement than anything, but your voice sounded so clear. Steb’s stomach tensed at your words, a wave of excitement cresting over his shoulders — it was like he could feel your words.

Your hands flattened his frills on the next downstroke, putting garbled words and heavy breathing in his throat, humping into your hand as his hands — frantic — grasped your bare shoulders. The heat of your skin below his palms added to the tense burning climbing its way up his spine.

“Mm, yeah, hold on like that. You don’t know how much I like it when you touch me.” You softly spoke over the vulgar sound of your hand pumping his cock. He was swimming in feeling, every honeyed word you uttered stuffed cotton on his head. Sweetly, in loving contrast to the lecherous rub of your hand, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t know how much I’ve started to enjoy coming home.”

Steb shivered, eyes fluttering shut at your words and squeezing harder at the wave of sensitivity they brought.

“It’s because you’re here.” You whispered into his skin, worshipful and adoring in each syllable. You smiled, pleased, at the feeling of his hips bucking with more instinct — chasing his peak in your hands.

You stole the sense from his mind, kissing away his doubts as cascading reassurances of how much you wanted him, wanted this, and loved seeing him come apart fell from your lips. You brushed your lips over the frills of his cheekbones, bursts of you dancing on the edge of his mind in a way he could never describe, but couldn’t get enough of.

Your eyes looked endless when you pulled away, a shudder passing through his taught body at the way you regarded him so deeply. You didn’t go far, never stopping your hands, only enough to see his eyes. His leaking tip throbbed.

“I love you.” You told him quietly, almost bashful despite your sensuous touch. Tender, so tender and intentional, you meant what you said. The debauched, glazed look in your eyes sending a shiver through his spine — turning the pooling heat in his gut fizzing with the approaching peak of ecstasy.

“Don’t hold back, Steb.” You ordered softly, aware of the violent jerk of his hips, the choked whine he made when you matched his bucking; the hand stroking his cock hitting every sensitive ridge, the other lost to the bare stretches of skin it could reach.

He jolted, hissing as he came, curling towards you; unintentionally rough, your teeth clacking as he kissed you, frenzied, urging, trying to feel more of you. Your hand worked until he twinged away from your touch, you let him, still caught up in the thrill of watching him writhe because of you.

He panted, eyes refocusing on yours, a gently searching expression crossing his brows. You licked off some of the slick, white come from your hand, snorting at the surprised, then flustered, face he pulled.

“What?” You giggled, fondly eyeing your work. Steb really did look pretty splayed out like that, frills still fluttering with the aftershock, cheeks hued with effort.

He pointed to himself, then pulled a face that seemed to be part of an internal debate you weren’t privy to; like he was looking for permission somewhere. His ears flushed and flicked down.

Steb’s hands crossed flat across the skin just below his collar bones, then pointed a slightly shaky finger towards you.

‘I love you.’

Your eyes widened in shock of the obvious, and any impulsive words were smothered on your lips by a heartfelt kiss as his pointed finger turned into a hand reaching to cup the back of your neck. Uncontrollably, insuppressible, you smiled into it, heart jumping at the feeling.

“Took us long enough, huh?” You teased, making Steb chuckle quietly. You were pulled in, bare torso to bare torso, and kept close to his skin — feeling the beat of his heart against yours.

A/N: lol died for a bit sorry about that, anyways merry christmas! (half of you have probably read this already 💀)

banner cr: @/anitalenia

#steb arcane #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x reader smut #arcane smut #steb arcane x reader #steb x reader #arcane steb x reader smut #steb x reader smut #steb smut #steb arcane x reader smut #gn!reader

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

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Silencing Spencer Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer likes how you listen to him ramble about things that interest him. He also likes your method of telling him to shut up.

Content/Warnings: Reader is a little mean because she has a headache, Spencer ramblings, oral (f receiving), face sitting (duh), degradation, pet names (pretty boy)

Word Count: 1.1K

Kinktober Day Eleven: Facesitting

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You liked listening to Spencer talk, something about his voice being calming to listen to. Listening to him ramble was like heaven, watching him get excited to tell you every bit of information that plagued his brain on one specific subject. Spencer was honestly grateful, liking the way you actually showed care to what he had to say and telling him your own thoughts. However there was another side of you that he liked.

“Spencer, honey, can you please just give me five minutes? I have a really bad headache.” you spoke as you were walking through your shared apartment, your boyfriend following behind you like a little puppy. “But you haven’t even heard the best part about this episode! I mean, you have no idea how crazy it is when he-” Spencer was cut off by the palm of your hand pressed against his mouth. “I love you so much but you need to just.. Fuck, go sit on the couch for a minute.” You snapped. You knew you’d feel awful about it later but right now you were just frustrated.

Spencer wasn’t negatively affected, instead a rush of blood rushing down to his cock. He was getting under your skin, just what he was intending on doing. All he needed now though was you to shut him up, to put him in his place. He’d been sexually frustrated all day and he wanted nothing more than to have your soaked cunt on his face, making a mess of his jaw while you used his tongue to get yourself off. The thought of your slick arousal on his tongue was enough to make him drool.

“But baby, don’t you wanna hear about my theories? I mean the show is so interesting and you know I’m passionate about this character.” He was rambling now, only blushing as you shot him a warning look, one that he was used to from the amount of times he attempted to test you. He knew the punishment would be severe but he didn’t care, he needed to taste your essence sooner rather than later. “Come on..”

Whenever Spencer wasn’t getting the hint though, you were frowning. Now if your head wasn’t pounding, you would’ve realized what he was doing. Right now though, he looked like a brat who couldn’t seem to follow your damn directions. “Go lay down. Now.” You murmured, the male perking up at getting just what he wanted before scrambling off to the bedroom. You were joining him a few minutes later, already pulling your pants down your legs along with your panties. “Don’t get any ideas, brats don’t deserve to be touched or cum. You are servicing me tonight. That’s it.” The harshness of your voice had a whimper rip from his throat, his head nodding slowly.

Contrary to most men, Spencer could spend hours lapping at your cunt. He enjoyed making you feel good, your fingers tangling in his hair while shoving his face deeper into your warmth. He could cum just from that alone. “I’m gonna sit on your face tonight. Got it, pretty boy?” Just from the look on his face, you could tell that he was eager to flick his tongue into your sweetness, having you rock your hips against his face solely to pleasure yourself. “Yes!” He was desperate, head lifting as his eyes were fixated on your bare lower half.

After getting your shirt off and throwing it on the ground along with the small pile of your other clothes. “You know, Spencer.. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted this.” You spoke in a low tone while facing him with a frown, body climbing onto the bed as you were crawling to get situated. With your knees on either side of Spencer’s face, you were glancing down at your boyfriend who had his usual doe eyes that were clouded over with arousal. “You need to listen better, you know. You shouldn’t upset me on purpose.”

Spencer didn’t have time to respond whenever he was face to face with your wet pussy, his hands coming up to hold your hips before gently tugging your lower half onto his mouth.

His tongue was darting out to flick over your throbbing clit, your fingers tangling into his messy curls while you let your head fall forward with a soft breath. “Fuck, put that mouth to good use.” You spoke, the sinful sounds of suckling filling the room whenever he got the chance to take your bud into his mouth. When he’d pulled off with a pop sound filling the room, he didn't waste time to drag his tongue through your slit, giving himself a taste of what he was so desperate for. “Pretty boy, don’t keep me waiting.” You spoke, which he didn’t need a warning before his tongue was breaching your leaking sex.

Pistoning his tongue into your sweet cunt, he relished in the feeling of your velvety walls constricting his tongue from the surprise of him getting right to work. He drank every ounce of arousal you gave him, eyes fluttering shut as his moans were muffling against your pussy. His hands were assisting you as you were rocking against the warm muscle working its magic, leaving you desperate for so much more. “Mmm, is this what you wanted? Me to ride that pretty face of yours? You could’ve asked, baby. You didn’t have to get under my skin and get yourself in trouble.” You tsked while glancing down at the fucked out face of your boyfriend underneath you.

His vigor was making that familiar warmth in your stomach grow, knowing that you were close. Spencer had known your body by now, so as he knew you were close, he was focusing on your clit once more, sucking harshly as he had you letting out curses and sharp gasps as you were desperately rocking your hips against your partner’s face. “I’m gonna cum.” You whispered while both hands were roughly gripping his messy hair.

With a soft cry, it wasn’t long until your creamy arousal was flowing into his mouth, Spencer was eagerly licking up the sweetness as he was letting his head tilt back against the pillow with a deep groan. “Good job, pretty boy.” Your cooing caused a sheepish smile to spread across his face as he blushed.

“Go take a shower.” You hum, crawling off of his face while Spencer was pushing himself to sit up. His eyes were glossed over, his mouth and chin soaked, and his hair was all over the place from her fingers gripping and pulling it. “You look so pretty.” You cooed while making his blush deepen, drunk off of your pussy as he was slowly pushing himself to stand. “Can I please touch myself?” His voice was whiny, filled with need as he stared at you.

“Nope. I told you, pretty boy, this is a punishment.”

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 months ago

Text

Treat Me So Well

yandere mafia Hoseok drabble

Part of a series of Drabbles starring yandere BTS x escort reader

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You fiddled with the chain that Hoseok had left on the night stand as the man himself got ready to head out for the day. You probably should have also been readying yourself to leave but had instead chosen to spend the earlier parts of the morning lazing in bed despite the fact that Hoseok had already left it. Your job was technically over. You knew for a fact that Hoseok had already wired over the money for your ‘services’, and you were free to go home whenever you liked so long as Jackson didn’t call with another appointment though it was always a possibility one of your other clients would contact you directly to set up a meeting.

Despite the fact that you didn’t have that many clients on your schedule, the few you did have kept you plenty busy. You never imagined that when you and your best friend started working for Jackson that it would turn into this. It had originally meant to be a side hustle to help put the both of you through school. Now it was a full time job that kept the both of you very busy and living a very good life. Despite the fact your client lists were short, every man on them paid very well.

You were on your back admiring how the diamonds in the chain sparkled in the light above you when Hoseok walked out of the bathroom buttoning his shirt.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my…” He paused without finishing the thought, catching sight of you wrapped up in the sheets with the very thing he was looking for dangling from your finger tips, a coy smile lifting the corners of your lips as you caught him staring.

“I was looking for that.”

“Then come and take it.”

He walked over, leaning down to place a slow kiss on your lips. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very pretty.”

“Keep it.” He straightened up, finishing doing up his buttons as he did.

You wrinkled your nose handing over the necklace. “It’s very pretty, but it’s not really my color. I’m a gold girly you know.”

Hoseok took the necklace from you, fastening it in place as you watched. “I’ll make sure to send you something in gold later.”

You laughed, sitting up- the sheet pooling around your waist as you did. “You always treat me so well.”

Hoseok reached over, running his hand through your loose hair. “Anything for you. When can I see you next?”

You hummed, thinking it over as you were unwilling to get up and retrieve your work phone from your bag to actually look at your appointments. “I should have an opening later in the week.”

“Nothing sooner?” he asked, pulling on your hair slightly. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“I’m a very busy lady.” you responded, rising onto your knees so that you were tall enough to drape your arms over his shoulders linking your hands behind his neck. “I have places to be, people to see.”

Hoseok leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. “Too busy for me?”

“Never too busy for you.” you responded with a purr, kissing him softly.

“Put me down for the slot later this week.” he sighed, breaking away from you. “The money for last night should already be in your account.” you hummed in agreement, flopping back to lie against the pillows again, and he followed you down, attacking your neck with a flurry of kisses. “Be good till I see you again.” he murmured against your skin.

“I always am.”

You stayed in bed, watching as Hoseok left and trying to find the motivation to leave yourself. That motivation eventually came in the sound of an insistent buzzing coming from the direction of your purse.

With a groan, you got up plucking your phone out and seeing a missed call and several texts coming through all from the same man with instructions for your date the following evening and the self-care he wanted you to do before then.

You were looking over the instructions and beginning to book the blow out and facial for later in the afternoon when your phone started ringing again.

“Hello, Tae.”

“Jagi.” his smooth deep voice carried over the line. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

“You’ll have to. I have beauty appointments to keep, ones I should be getting ready to go for.”

“Where are you right now?”

You sighed, already aware of his possessive tendencies. He liked to know that you were safe between meetings, often making sure that you got where you needed to be safely. “I’m getting ready to head home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll send a car for you.”

You laughed, grinning as you began to gather your scattered clothes from around the room. “You always treat me so well.”

#area codes universe #mafia au #bts mafia #yandere bts #bts fanfic #mafia hoseok #yandere hoseok #mafia hobi #yandere hobi #dark romance #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader

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1d1195 · 7 months ago

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Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

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fumifooms · 8 months ago

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Helki compilation

Helki is a prisoner-turned-servant. He’s a criminal canary and was implicitly one of Milsiril’s charges, and now that she’s retired he’s become her servant.

He must have gotten into Milsiril’s good graces, wether through attachment or convenience, which is a feat considering Milsiril’s a socially anxious recluse. Interesting since it’s not like he seems like the agreeable type, shifty upbeat delinquent style… We really don’t know much about him, not even what crimes he did, so there’s a lot of space for speculation on all grounds.

Edit: Shanghai QnA with Kui gave us a new juicy morsel of info!

Interesting… The original answer in japanese is: パッタドルと同じような杖を使っていました。今も同じものを支給されているのですが、すぐになくすのでもはや携帯していないようです。 That it’s written in japanese seems to say that there isn’t the same double translation issue there was last QnA, so if someone wants to look at the original phrasing and word choices it can be done. Perhaps Helki-Milsiril has a more protégé dynamic undertone than previously thought… "For various reasons", meaning circumstances that made it so the squad had to choose between saving him and saving their own skin, or like, "man this guy’s personality sucks we don’t really like him"? Likely to be a mix of several things, since ‘for various reasons’ implies the situation was either complex or they had multiple reasonings. In either case, the phrasing is very much that Milsiril couldn’t abandon him herself, and so a relationship sprung out of that. Another instance of outcasts seeking out and sticking with other outcasts in Dungeon Meshi. This could mean that it’s a bit less out of personal attachment and more out of a sense of duty on Milsiril’s side as well though.

Still edit: So then maybe him staying with Rin in that comic isn’t that much because of work ethics or that he cares for kids (or maybe he does because he feels kinship to them, alone and mistreated), but because he didn’t want to join the other canaries in that room chatting and laughing… Maybe the isolation was exacerbated because he became Milsiril’s favorite, teacher’s pet style, but I’d also be careful about assuming the others disproportionately dislike him, it could be that they just don’t really care for him. Why? Could be because of his personality, because he’s seen as shifty or unreliable or annoying, if an event, who knows who knows, but I like to think because of the Rin comic that he generally just tends to be a loner, that he’s "weird" in a neurodivergent vibe, he doesn’t conform to proper social behavior which in elven society seems especially alienating. He’s the only one with Rin to think of her sake, not only worth observing/caring for but also asks her to eat, but he does this with an offputting stare, not really emoting, and then well, the infamous alone with her staring munching covered in blood panel. He stands out. I’m a fan of the theory that it was a "Helki? Not that I dislike the guy but I’m not risking my skin for him" situation… Ok end edit back to older observations.

He seemed to be acting out of his own initiative in the Rin comic, he doesn’t look thrilled to be there in many post-canary comics but he also seems content enough. He restrains Milsiril in the Mithrun cleaning comic which is interesting to think of for their relationship.

It’s fun to notice how he’s the only one that didn’t get bored of looking after Rin, and then reports back about her condition… I’d say he was getting used to taking care of kids which would come with the job of serving Milsiril, but then, not enough for him to clean the blood off himself hah. In this way it’s interesting to think about his relationship to the idea of parenthood, he’s probably the closest thing to a father figure/male role model Kabru had growing up, without mentioning the other kids. I feel like he’d consider himself an older brother, cousin or uncle figure sooo much sooner than a father, but even then I do think it’s just his job and he’s not really invested or forming real relationships with any of them much.

It’s curious to note that he’s dressed in canary uniform presumably after having been pardoned and living with Milsiril? Which you can tell by the armor bits (the yellow strips of spider silk). In the Kabru training montage and the Rin comic specifically. It seems very implausible for him to have still been a canary while being a retired Milsiril’s servant and being with her all the time, and the cleaning with Mithrun comic (where he’s not in uniform) happens after Utaya so it could happen after Kabru was taken in but around the time of the Rin comic. So why uniform? It could be one of the best outfits he has, so it’d make sense to wear it around especially if you’re sparring or getting�� Blood on you? Could just be because that's how Milsiril wants him to dress. But yeah we don't know when exactly Helki becoming Milsiril’s servant happened. We do see Mithrun’s charge Cithis be tasked with taking care of him, so a charge being given a servant-caretaker role doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary, sometimes even prior to retiring.

Imo, if he doesn't work for Milsiril he goes back to jail/the canaries/has to try and get a job instead of just tending to her, so Helki is staying with Milsiril because she's the best option for him. He’s her milsiril's personal servant and does mostly dull tasks involved in that. He’s not particularly suited to the role but they’ve gotten used to each other to him so she took him with her, and he does prefer it to canary work so it works out decent for him. I think he’s used to reading her and managing her moods and he’s one of the rare social connection she has.

Under spoiler is stage 2 interpretation stuff, bigger speculation, in a reblog I’ll make soon I’ll go over my thoughts for stage 3 interpretation lol. Helsiril I’m coming for you

Translation of the canary hierachy chart used is by Thatsmimi, here

#Dungeon meshi #spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Helki #Compilation #lmk if he’s pictured anywhere else #Helsiril my beloved I need 30 fics of you it shall have 10 metric tons of extrapolation from canon but it shall be tasty indeed #Might do comps/short explanation posts of the other minor canary characters like Misyl and Erique. Ik the Flamela shippers would enjoy #He has less screentime than Dandan. Tragic. Though I guess he’s just not even remotely involved in present canon business so fair enough #Helsiril #In reblog addition I’ll make… soon #I imagine him kinda being like Mickbell personality wise #Did you know soldier-turned-servant like here with the canaries was a thing historically. No really:#https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batman_(military)#He looks full of mischief… Alas shackles are minimizing the whimsy and he must act responsible and obey #Helki x milsiril #The helki-kabru potential dynamic is super interesting too #I do like to think seeing milsiril & helki growing up hammered “it’s use or be used” into him… Will elaborate in reblog #Helksiril

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itallcomesfromhoney · 8 months ago

Text

TEASER - Kiribaku x Reader (friends to lovers) ft. fakedating!au

not my gif

“You really let Bakugo and Kirishima have it tonight.” Mina said giggling as you walked arm in arm back to the girls’ dorms. Momo nodded in agreement, both enjoying the drama that you brought.

You roll your eyes,

“They deserved it.”

“What even happened? Bakugo looked like he was about to snap his fingers and light everything on fire, while Kirishima looked like he was gonna pull a muscle with the expression he had.” Momo asked you, frowning a little.

“I have no idea, I was just dancing with Todoroki when they blew up at me and Bakugo called me a bitch” you shrug and scowl at the memory.

Mina scoffed, “I feel like I have a pretty good guess as to what their problem was.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Maybe they’re jealous of Shoto?” Mina said with a teasing tone, as if she wanted to get a reaction out of you. Momo nodded, agreeing with Mina’s theory.

You freeze,

“Jealous? Why would they be jealous, they’re my best friends?”

“Because they want to be more than just friends, obviously.” Yaoyorozu laughed, finding it funny that you didn’t understand the pink girl.

“Ah- no way, Momo” you stammer, flushing at the other girl’s words.

“It’s so obvious.” Momo continued to giggle, while Mina nodded again.

It was clear that they thought it was funny that you didn’t realize it, especially with how Bakugo and Kirishima were acting lately. You paused to think, it was true they didn’t like other guys around you, and they had sabotaged every time a guy might had tried to ask you out.

“Do you really think so?” You ask the girls.

“I absolutely do” Yaoyorozu said with a smirk. Mina nodded again.

“Bakugo has always been way overprotective of you, so it makes perfect sense when he gets this way when he sees you with another guy. Even Kirishima is acting pretty weird over the situation. Honestly, I am still surprised that you haven’t noticed it sooner than this.” She smirked as she spoke, finding the whole situation amusing.

“Well I’m not talking to them until they apologise for ruining my evening” you pout, choosing to ignore the theory flying around.

“That’s probably not gonna take long.”

“I give it a day before they both come running to you.”

“Unless I really annoy them” you muse, a plan for revenge already forming in your head.

“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?” Momo snickered, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Mina raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Who do we know that would piss them off the most if I started dating?” You muse “Me being anywhere near him would about give Katsuki an aneurysm”

The two of them both burst out laughing as you spoke.

“Perfect.”

“He’s the perfect choice.” Mina said, finally speaking up after several seconds of laughter.

“If you could give him my number and explain the situation I’d be so grateful, he’ll definitely be up for getting under their skin” you ask Mina.

“Oh, I would love to. It’ll be fun seeing both of them have a complete meltdown over this.”

The next day, you’re sat reading on your bed, mulling over the night before when you feel your phone buzz next to you.

Note: Just a teaser for a fic I had knocking around! Could be a fun one but let me know if you want the actual chapter/fic!

#kirishima x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

Text

Bruises

"I feel so...hollow," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. "But—But like my feelings are so heavy they could drown me at the same time. I don't—I don't know when it started, but I can't remember how to be happy without waiting to be punished for it later."

Tears were tracking stains down your cheeks like small rivers, leaking out of your eyes faster than you could stop them. Not that you tried to, anyway, even that seemed exhausting. One thing you could do was avoid Harry's gaze. You felt it like a severe burn as he practically begged you to look at him, but you just couldn't. Not while you were so vulnerable. You felt stripped bare, even more so than the number of times the two of you had been intimate.

"Y/n—"

"Don't," you said, nearly leaping out of your skin when he rested a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him then, saw the pain in his eyes at your rejection of his touch. But you couldn't handle it. Your soul felt raw as you said things you never thought you would out loud. "Please don't, I can't—"

Harry seemed to understand as he nodded and took a step back, but the concerned furrow of his brow remained, his fingers curling awkwardly at his sides. He'd always been the type to communicate through touch—a squeeze on the shoulder, a tip of your chin, a gentle nose nudge on your cheek, a hand never far away from your person. You knew that he craved touch to comfort people, and yet he stayed put. For that you were thankful, and it helped you find your words again.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," you said, almost too quietly for anything but your thoughts to hear. "I—I don't know why I'm feeling like this, or how I got here, I—I just feel like I'm stuck in this emptiness."

Saying all of that made you want to run and hide. Harry didn't need to know all this, how wrecked you really were inside. No one did. He was just someone who happened to be around when you were at your worst. Normally you were able to keep a lid on your darkest thoughts, but he'd come over when you were in the thick of it, and you couldn't exactly hide how you felt when you were crying uncontrollably for virtually no reason other than it was a Tuesday afternoon and life suddenly felt like one big chore.

Maybe it was the holiday, seeing everyone so happy, hearing songs about falling in love and kissing under mistletoes and commercials that said, "The perfect gift for that someone special!" Being surrounded by so much cheer only left you feeling more hollowed out, more lost than you'd ever thought you'd become.

"Y/n, why—why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Like what?" you laughed bitterly. "That I cry at the drop of a hat and can't handle light teasing from my friends? That I haven't felt right for weeks and getting out of bed feels like a chore? We—That's not who we are to each other. I—I have no one."

The words clanged around, grasping onto your heartstrings and convincing you it was true. You had friends and family, but when the darkness reared its ugly head, you always felt hopelessly and inescapably alone. Words deserted you when you needed them most, leaving you to smile and pinch your skin, trying your best not to cry in line at the grocery store or while sitting at your desk at work. It was all too much, too much to handle, and yet you didn't want anyone else but you to share that load, the weight of your inexplicable despair.

"Do you honestly think that?" Harry asked. You couldn't even dignify him with an answer. It had been humiliating to say it once, let alone look him in the eye and say it again. So you just shrugged and wiped your cheek. "You're my friend, Y/n, and I care about you. I'm sorry if I haven't done enough to make you know that."

"It's not just you, H," you sniffled, feeling bad for making Harry uncomfortable. It wasn't his job to make you feel better. Your problems were yours to bear alone. They always had been. "I don't—I don't know how to do this."

"Do what, love?"

Despite the discomfort of having shared so much, Harry's gentle voice felt like a warm blanket over your shoulders. It made you finally look up to meet his eye. You were surprised to see so much emotion held in them, but you didn't shy away from it like you thought you would. It helped fill that hollow ache a little, made you feel a little less alone.

"I don't know how to deal with this any other way," you said, trying to explain. "I don't...I hate sharing this stuff with people. It makes my skin crawl."

Your body felt heavy, your soul weary, as if no amount of shed tears or leaning on shoulders would ever ebb the emptiness that was taking over you. But you didn't want the pity. You didn't want anyone to worry or look at you differently because of how sensitive you tended to be sometimes. To deal with the myriad of moods that swung on a pendulum day to day, sometimes moment to moment. The pressure of feeling like you should reach out and ask for help was almost worse than the emptiness and despair.

"This is a good start," Harry said, inching just a tiny bit closer. "I just don't want you to think you can't talk to me. You can, Y/n, and I'll listen, or give you space, or help you find professional help, or do whatever it takes to make you smile. Just let me be here for you."

The notion didn't sit well with you at first. It wasn't how you dealt with things, though clearly your methods weren't working. That didn't make letting Harry in any less scary, or any easier. But Harry was still here. You'd broken down, shared just how broken you really were, and he was still here, asking to be someone for you to confide in.

Harry had been your friend for a long time. You ran in the same circles and saw each other often enough that you'd consider him to be someone you were close to. It wasn't until your arrangement that you got to know him more. You'd never had a friends with benefits situation before, but you never imagined it to be so easy. Rules had been sketched out, boundaries were made and kept, and things between you just seemed to work. Even when you didn't see each other for a week or two at a time, there was no awkwardness.

There was no jealousy at parties or possessiveness; you were exclusive, but okay with the idea of ending things should either of you meet someone you wanted to explore a relationship with. You and Harry just clicked—two friends who happened to sleep with each other, companions who could hold conversations about their jobs amicably, yet knew every inch of each other's bodies intimately. And now Harry was offering something more, something different.

Nodding, you said, "Thank you."

Harry gave you a small grin, then tentatively reached a hand out to wipe away a stray tear. You let him, not feeling like a startled animal anymore. You knew part of you should've felt embarrassed that Harry had caught you in such a state, that you'd let him see how broken and hurting you were on the inside, and maybe a small part of you did, but you mostly just felt like a weight had lifted off your chest.

"Can I get you anything? Maybe a cup of tea?" he asked, leading you over to your kitchen counter as if it was his home, not yours.

You let him, content to watch him move around your kitchen as if it was his own. He'd been over to your place enough times to know his way around and know how you took your tea.

Sitting in silence, you watched as Harry took a mug that looked like a gingerbread man and one that had a textured, cable-knit sweater design from your cabinet and fixed up two cups of tea. His shoulders flexed beneath his loose shirt, dark brown curls curving every which way at the nape of his neck. The familiarity of this moment was comforting after such an emotionally taxing and foreign afternoon. Harry was here as often as your busy schedules would allow, or you were at his place, neither of you concerned with how much time you spent together.

Though today you hadn't expecting to see him, hence the emotional breakdown. You didn't really plan those kinds of things, but you'd been feeling more down than usual and had been seeing Harry less and less recently as a result. Every text about a next meet-up, whether that was to get lunch or have sex or anything in between, had been rebuffed quickly and kindly. Today he'd shown up out of the blue.

"H?"

"Yeah?" he said, his back still to you.

"Why did you come over today? Y—You didn't text like you normally do."

Harry looked over his shoulder briefly, a small smile playing at his lips. "We hadn't seen each other in a while," he said breezily. "Which is fine, I know we're both busy, but I just had this distinct feeling you were avoiding me."

"I'm sorry," you said, finding it easier to say it when his back was to you. "I don't mean to do that."

"I know," Harry said, that same gentle and easy tone in his voice. "I've always known you're squirrelly about feelings."

You huffed at his choice of words, trying to focus on his humor rather than the fact that he seemed to know you better than you thought he did. You appreciated that he didn't state the obvious, which was that you went way past "squirrelly." The last hour had been emotionally taxing, and you appreciated that Harry offered you a modicum of normalcy.

"Thank you for checking up on me," you said. "You're a good friend, H."

Perhaps better than I deserve, was what you didn't say, because you knew he would scold you for even thinking it.

"Well, my visit wasn't totally innocent," Harry teased as he finally came over with two steaming mugs of tea, yours done just right. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, but didn't say anything more than that.

Raising your brows, you said, "Ah. You couldn't find anyone to watch Hallmark Christmas movies with you, could you?"

Harry chuckled into his mug, taking the excuse you both knew was a lie and ran with it. "Yeah, that's exactly it. I knew you'd understand."

"I wouldn't say to no a cheesy Christmas movie."

"Promise me you'll tell me when you're feeling like this again," Harry said a while later.

You could tell Harry was trying to hide his eagerness to pull you into your room and fire up your TV. His eyes scanned over you briefly, as if he was trying to assess where you were at mentally. It would be hard to see that stare, to know Harry had seen you at your lowest and would constantly be gauging if you were on the verge of another breakdown. But the thought didn't irritate you the way you thought it would. You were surprised to feel a little relieved that you weren't the only one taking care of you, at least for the time being.

You were huddled under a mountain of blankets together. Twinkly lights in your bedroom casting a warm light over you both. You'd meant to put them up earlier in the month, but hadn't made yourself get around to it, the small task falling to the wayside the same way a lot of your everyday chores did. Harry took one look at the forgotten box of lights and got to work, even going as far as putting a looped video of a roaring fireplace in his phone and setting it up next to your television. It was a little silly, and a tad over the top, but you appreciated it all the same, the lengths he was going to ease the ache in your chest as best he could.

He was practically on top of you now, but unlike the events of today, that was something you were used to. Harry liked to sprawl out, specifically with you underneath him—leg over your waist, arm tucked across you to keep you close, face buried in your neck or chin resting on top of your head. He insisted on draping himself over you like a blanket, even before you started sleeping together.

"I don't want to bother you—"

"Bother me, Y/n," Harry said, his voice gravelly as he gently turned your face to meet his gaze. "I'm not doing my job as your friend if I'm only with you when things are easy or—or good. You're not alone, okay? As long as I'm in your life, I'm in it. Good and bad."

"I'll try."

You tried to blink back tears, a little surprised you had any left to shed. Your face was undeniably puffy and a little dry, and you were tired in a different way than you had been the last few weeks. But these were different tears from earlier. A different emotion took over you as you nodded.

That seemed to satisfy Harry. He kissed your forehead, and you closed your eyes against it, allowing yourself to believe everything he'd said to you today.

You weren't magically fixed, that crushing weight was still waiting for you like a monster under your bed, but you weren't alone. Harry had turned the lights on, showing you that perhaps there was no shame in letting someone see the worst parts of you. Because he was still there, promising to hold your hand and help you until you felt whole again.

#Spotify #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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ellamuffin97 · 2 months ago

Text

You are mine 💚

Pairing : Loki x Fem!Reader

Rating:E

Warnings : spice , sexy flashbacks, jealousy, possessive behaviour, alcohol, cursing

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

You sat at the bar and swirled around the watery remains of your drink. You stared at the melting ice at the bottom of your glass, totally wrapped up in your thoughts.

His voice got so damn rough and low when he was inside you. It was coarse, like shrapnel—it bit into your skin and stayed there, embedded and scarred over, whether you liked it or not.

“Fuck, just like that, kærasta . You feel so good.”

Loki’s hands gripped your ass, guiding your movements as you rode him, your palms resting heavy on his pecs.

“Mmmm, are you going to cum for me? That’s it, make yourself cum on my cock.”

You collapsed forward, forearms landing on either side of his head, hands tangled in his hair, lips pressed to his corded neck. He bent his knees to brace for leverage and started fucking up into you, holding you tight against him as you fell apart.

“Shit, yes, cum for me—I can feel it.”

The loud scrape of a barstool ripped you back to the present moment, and you looked around quickly, hoping your face hadn’t betrayed your filthy thoughts. You’d come here to not think about him.

Needless to say, it wasn’t working.

You were starting to forget why you’d told Loki so many months ago that your relationship was purely casual and would never be anything more. Only fucking him after you had missions together meant seeing him sporadically at best—a few days at a time, maybe a blissful week if you were lucky and the mission needed more time or if the target that you’d follow was far away. Then you’d go your separate ways, not seeing him for weeks or sometimes months, until Stark needs him and Thor again so they have to come back from Asgard .

The last mission you’d had together was three weeks ago. You didn’t like to admit it (even to yourself), but you’d asked him for help when you really didn’t need it. You could have easily catch the target alone… but the job required so much damn time in another country that you couldn’t fathom wasting all that valuable time without him. You weren’t going to not take advantage of six long days London with nothing to do but fuck. You had no regrets about the white lie.

And to your relief, neither Loki didn’t say anything when the target was suspiciously simple to catch.

But if you were at the point of lying about anything just to see him, why did you have this stupid rule in the first place? He had made it clear on several occasions that he wanted your partnership to be more than just about work.

“Stay with me. I want you here.”

No, no. You knew why you drew that line in the sand. You kept him at arm’s length because it was safe. This arrangement was simple. Straightforward. Smart. No strings or complications. After all, his invitation to stay with him wasn’t a promise—it didn’t ensure loyalty or preclude loss. Nothing did. Sooner or later, he’d get tired of you, or you’d get tired of him. Someone would end up too attached and heartbroken.

You couldn’t lose someone who wasn’t yours.

Living by that truth made things easy. Right? Yes. Yes, it did.

…Then why didn’t it feel easy anymore? Why did it hurt so fucking much every time he left Midgard straight after every single mission ?

That wasn’t a question you were ready to unpack at the moment. You signalled to the bartender for another drink, just as a man slid onto the stool next to you. You turned to look at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up in a smile.

Alright, he’d be a sexy enough distraction. If you couldn’t excise the shards of Loki that had worked their way under your skin, the least you could do was find a fun way to ignore them.

Authors pov :

She was here. Of course, she was here.

Seeing her was the last thing he needed. He was here to distract himself, to buy a bottle of something strong and escape to the solitude he finds his peace in . And once he was there, he would not think about her and her soft lips. No, he wasn’t going to think about how beautiful she looked splayed out in his bed , sweaty and wild and his.

*****

“Are you going to join me in here or are you just going to stand there and look at me?” she teased.

She sat up with a wicked smile on her lips and crawled to the end of the bed . She knelt at the edge, reaching out to grasp his shirt and tug him forward. He happily complied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Speaking of nice views,” she purred. “I love when you wear those leather trousers .”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… now let’s get them off.”

She bowed her head and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, and he tipped his head to the side to give her better access, a quiet moan escaping through his lips. Before he even knew what was happening, she had curled her fingers around the black elastic of his boxers, extended them toward her, and let them snap back . He grunted in surprise, but his playful words of protest died on his tongue when she set her teeth against his skin. She slid her hand in his trousers , rubbing and playing with his dick while her free palm wandered up over the taut muscles of his biceps.

*****

“Excuse me.” The bite of an irritated voice cut through his moment of reminiscence, loud enough to jolt him out of one of his favorite memories.

Loki looked around as a woman pushed past him. He stepped out of the way and muttered an apology. He hadn’t realized he was frozen in the doorway, completely blocking the exit.

He looked back over at the bar. His heart dropped.

No, she wasn’t his. She was definitely not his.

The proof was right in front of his fucking face. There she was, chatting up some handsome man who’d just sat down beside her, her hand playfully swatting his forearm—not that he even needed proof to know she wasn’t his. From the very beginning, she was crystal clear that all he’d ever be to her was an occasional mission partner and casual fuck. And he accepted her boundaries because as much as it hurt to watch her locking inside her room after every job, he’d rather give up his room in the tower and go back with his brother in Asgard .

He would rather have a piece of her than nothing at all .

Loki knew he should go. The smart thing to do would be to turn around right now and head back to Asgard. Staying and watching this unfold would just add more weight to the heavy feeling in his chest—the feeling that settled there months ago, after the first time you’d had sex and she left the next morning, the feeling that only relented when she was by his side once again.

But… if he stayed, he would get to see her for a little while. And… who knows? Maybe she’d see him too, come over, and stop talking to that asshole?

Could that man be considered an asshole for doing nothing wrong? The worst crime he had committed was choosing the most beautiful woman to talk to.

Yes, Loki decided. He was an asshole.

He moved further into the pub , making a beeline for the bar. He stopped at the far end, hand balled into a fist on the wooden counter. He didn’t even notice when the bartender came up and asked him if he wanted anything.

He was too preoccupied watching her. She was largely faced away from him, her body angled toward the idiot she was shamelessly flirting with. For a moment, though, she turned slightly, and the look on her face broke something inside him .It was a look—open and wanting, soft around the edges—that he thought she reserved only for him.

He also watched her smile at him, and an ugly feeling rippled through him—anger, craving, possession. It unfurled through his body like tendrils of smoke, filling up every inch of him until he felt like he was going to choke.

She turned just far enough to meet his gaze, and his feet were moving before he knew what he was going to do.

Enough.

***

Apparently, this stranger was not a good enough distraction. You were talking with him, doing some of your best flirting—despite how eye-wateringly strong his cologne was—and all you could think about was Loki. The man prattled on, not noticing that you weren’t listening to him at all as you slipped right back to a fonder memory.

You were tucked against Loki’s chest in the dark haven of his room, and he was nuzzling his jaw against the side of your neck. He breathed you in.

“You smell good.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Like flowers… and vanilla and a little bit like smoke.”

You smiled against him and leaned up to press your nose to his neck, inhaling.

“You smell good too. Like whisky and something warm… I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Sweat,” he offered.

“No,” you laughed, “Like cinnamon or pine trees… and maybe a light hint of sweat.”

Loki growled and flipped you on your back, bracing himself over you. “Told you,” he teased, dipping down to kiss a line along your collarbone.

“I still like it,” you whispered.

When you realized you were smiling in a slightly dazed, lovesick way, you glanced away from the man in front of you, turning your head to hide your expression. You didn’t want him to think you were looking at him that way.

And when you turned, you caught a familiar gleam of blue eyes in your periphery. As if you’d summoned him straight out of your daydream, Loki was standing at the far end of the bar, his eyes fixed on your face. You smiled at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up even more when he started to make his way around the bar, heading in your direction.

Yes.

You watched him as he walked over, wondering if he’d be open to heading straight to the tower .

And when he reached you… he didn’t so much as pause—you couldn’t detect even the smallest hitch in his step. He walked right on by, tossing a curt nod of acknowledgement in your direction. You didn’t even have the chance to reciprocate his nod before he’d passed.

You were too shocked to even be offended; you were just… crushed.

No, not crushed. Just surprised.

Your gaze followed his back as he wove through the tables. You expected him to find an empty one, to seek the solitude that he so often preferred over the company of most, but instead, he stopped in front of a round booth in the back corner where a beautiful woman was sitting alone. You watched in shock as he said something inaudible to her, and she beamed up at him, sliding over on the bench so he could sit beside her.

What the fuck.

“You okay?”

You snapped your attention back to the man in front of you. He’d finally noticed that you weren’t paying him the slightest bit of attention anymore.

“Uh, yeah sorry… I, uh, have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.

He’d recover.

“Have a good night,” you said, absentmindedly patting his arm as you got to your feet.

For a few stunned moments, you stood there by the bar and watched Loki blatantly flirt with this random woman. You couldn’t hear what he was saying from there, but it was clearly… effective. Before they’d exchanged more than a few sentences, she had a hand on his fucking knee.

Your brain stalled.

Normally , Loki terrified everyone he came into contact with. And you didn’t blame them—he wanted to take over the whole planet and caused disaster . You’d seen bigger men than himself flinch when he scratched his arm… and yet, this woman was completely comfortable with him right off the bat, positively swooning.

What the fuck was he saying to her?

He braced an arm on the back of the booth, around her shoulders, and she fluttered her lashes up at him. You could tell from the way his head was tilted towards her that she had his complete, undivided attention. You knew that look well.

Jealousy blazed hot and urgent inside you.

He was putting on a show for you, baiting you. He had to be. He was usually awkward and monosyllabic around strangers. You prided yourself on how talkative and warm he had become around you—only with you. Or at least, you thought he was only like that with you.

The woman slid her hand up a few inches on his thigh . That got your feet moving.

You stalked over to where he was sitting, faced away from you, his body fully angled toward the woman. To your absolute horror, as you moved closer, you started to catch their conversation.

“—you look so strong” the woman giggled, reaching out to grip his bicep.

Loki just hummed his agreement and fucking flexed his arm under her fingers.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

She oooo-ed at the show of muscle, and your fists clenched almost as tightly as your jaw.

He leaned toward her even more, his huge frame dwarfing her. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?”

SWEETHEART.

Your vision flashed crimson, the edges burned black.

Before she could answer, you slapped a palm down on their table to make your presence known. The woman looked up at you with wide, confused eyes, immediately retracting her hand from Loki’s thigh. Good.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes trained on you over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice calm and even.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” you gritted out.

He didn’t move. “What do you need?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “To talk to you.”

“Well, we were about to—” the woman started to protest then caught the threatening look on your face and recoiled, scooting backward on the bench.

Something primal in your chest purred in satisfaction every time she drew away from Loki in response to your presence. You wanted to chase that feeling.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved in even more. You stood right behind where he sat on the edge of the bench, and leaned over him, one of your hands finding a home on his knee, the other draped possessively around his shoulders.

His eyes were still turned toward you, but he didn’t move. You fixed the woman with a searing gaze.

She scrunched her eyebrows, her eyes flicking between where your hands were resting on Loki’s body and up to his unmoving face, which was glued to your own face. She no longer had his attention. It was all on you.

As it should be.

“Would you give us a minute?” you asked, your lips pursed tightly in a fake smile.

The woman let out an awkward, disbelieving laugh—which was fair, you were kicking her out of her own table after all—and shuffled around the booth, getting to her feet. “Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll let you two talk.”

“Thanks so much.”

When she was gone, Loki slid along the bench, making room for you to sit. When he turned toward you, your face was set in anger again, hand still clutching his knee.

He reclined against the seat, calm as can be. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

You scoffed at him. “Uh, what the fuck was that?”

He cocked his head the tiniest bit. “What was what?”

“That little performance? That flirting? What the fuck was that?”

“It was flirting,” he deadpanned. “Well spotted.”

Your jaw fell open, and you sputtered for a moment. “You-you were just doing it to get under my skin—it was so obvious. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”

He chuckled. “If I was doing it to get under your skin, I’d say it’s working.”

You let go of his knee to cross your arms over your chest defensively. “I mean—yeah, it was pretty painful to watch you throw yourself at her like that… though that tactic seemed to work on her,” you conceded, looking away from him for a moment.

Suddenly Loki thawed, dropping his nonchalant facade and leaning toward you to rest a hand on your thigh.

“You can just say you were jealous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the way his touch lit up all the nerves in your body.

He shrugged and continued:”You know I’d rather flirt with you, but we’re not on a mission together right now, so…”

“Yeah, well, you know what? I’m starting to rethink my policy,” you huffed.

He squeezed your thigh. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes at his smug reply. “You could have just told me that you wanted more, you know.”

“I have told you that. Many times.”

Suddenly, you felt silly. The anger that had flared so hot and bright faded, leaving you feeling exposed. You dropped your arms and sighed. He was right. This whole situation had been orchestrated by… you.

“Yeah, okay, you have.”

He crowded your space suddenly, draping his arm around your shoulder and dipping his lips down to your ear.

“And I’ll tell you again if it helps,” he growled, his voice dipping an octave

“I want you to be mine and only mine … all the time , forever kærasta”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

He drew back, settling into a relaxed position.

“now , what is it exactly what you wanted from me? Voice it out babe”

You knew exactly what you wanted. You’d known from the beginning. That possessive feeling in your chest stirred again.

You rested your hand on his knee again and looked up in his eyes. “I want that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled up at him.

Loki stiffened, his back straightening, as your hand wandered up his thigh, settling brazenly between his legs. He was still as a statue, his breath suddenly shallow as he hardened under your touch.

“Mine,” you breathed, squeezing him lightly.

“You and that delicious dick of yours “

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki fanart #loki x you #marvel loki #loki #loki x y/n #smut #jealousy #jealous reader #love wins #lovers #i love him

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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago

Text

Digital Billboards and Bumper Stickers

I handed another can of food to Eggskin, thinking idle thoughts about skin and scale color. Neither of us were what I considered kindergarten-crayon colors, though I was somewhere in the white-brown-pink area while they were a yellow-green-white. Someday I’d ask them if they knew their scales were the color of human boogers (no I wouldn’t).

Really I was thinking about that to avoid reading the labels of the food, since most of them had my alien crewmates in mind, and looked profoundly unappealing to me. This stack was mostly bug paste. Some cans were shelled, and some unshelled. Flavored with the highest quality algae. Bluh.

“That’s the last of these,” I said happily, handing it over.

Eggskin placed it on the shelf and looked thoughtfully down at the counter still strewn with shelf-stable food. “Let’s do the seed paste next. Leave the herb stalks out; I’ll want to use them sooner than the rest.”

Following their pointing claw, I located the jars of peanut-butter-adjacent food, and the narrow boxes that I’d thought were spaghetti. “Got it.” I shoved the boxes aside and started passing the jars to Eggskin for placement. Reorganizing the shelves was a lot of work. I could see why they’d asked for assistance. At the very least, it would have gotten boring after a while.

Eggskin asked, “So what was the captain grumbling about just now?”

I thought back to when Eggskin had recruited my help from outside the cockpit. I’d only been there to bring Wio the water bottle she’d left in the lounge, but it had been long enough to pick up the gist of the conversation. “All the ships in this area have extra information on their ID’s, and they keep popping up as images overlaying the map, making it hard to see where everything is.”

Eggskin turned with the speed of a striking snake. “What area? Where are we going? I knew I should have checked the schedule.”

“I didn’t catch the name,” I said, but Eggskin was already racing for the door.

“Put away the jars, please; I’ll get the rest later!”

I paused for a moment, then hurried to put all the seed paste jars next to the cans of bug paste, labels forward and in neat rows. Then I ran after Eggskin.

When I arrived at the cockpit, I found our ship’s cook/medic with a hand on Wio’s chair, pointing something out to the captain.

Captain Sunlight sat in the copilot’s seat, frowning at the screen. Many colors reflected off her bright yellow scales, glowing from the mishmash of light that was normally a dark starfield. “If we make that much of a detour, we won’t be able to make the delivery on time. We’ll just have to go dark on communications until we get there.”

Eggskin made a concerned noise as Wio tapped several buttons with her tentacles. The room was suddenly darker as all the company logos and custom images blinked out of sight. The screen now held the usual blackness of space, speckled with stars — one close enough to be called a sun — and a variety of ships mostly heading to or from a distant space station shaped like a tube. There were also far more asteroids hanging around than I was entirely comfortable with.

But before I could ask about that, the music started.

I think it was music. “What is that?” I asked at the jumble of sound. It sounded like several radio stations at once, some playing recognizable instruments, some talking, and others making what sounded like rude noises.

In a tone of defeat, Eggskin said, “The ads and taunts can detect visual sensors. Some ships target outsiders in exactly our position: no time or money to buy a blocker.”

Wio made a rude sound of her own and turned the volume down.

Captain Sunlight was still frowning. “I don’t want to speak ill of anyone else’s way of life, but this is terrible.”

Eggskin gripped both chairs, eyes trained on the screen. “It’s one of many reasons why I left. You’ll want to keep that big ship between us and the station for as long as you can.” They pointed briefly. “Or else we’ll have a Core on our tail wanting to fine us for flying blind.”

“Terrible,” the captain repeated. But she instructed Wio to do as they said, while aiming for one specific asteroid that hadn’t come onscreen yet.

This seemed like a good time to ask. “Why are there so many asteroids this close to the station?”

Captain Sunlight flicked a glance at me, possibly only now noticing I was there in the doorway.

Eggskin answered without turning. “It was meant to be a tourist attraction, but the company got bought out and the project abandoned. Now half of the gravity engines are failing, and reputable businesses are leaving the area.”

Wio said, “It still looks awfully busy.”

“That would be the disreputable sorts. If you see a triangle where the stars disappear for a moment, fly at max speed in the other direction, never mind the delivery time.”

Captain Sunlight turned her frown on Eggskin. “It’s that extreme of a danger?”

The hands on both chairs tightened. “Yes.”

I studied the screen for any sign of disappearing stars. Black ships in the blackness of space were uncommon back in familiar territory, for the simple reason that they risked having someone crash into them and atomize both ships. But it sounded like someone here considered that a risk worth taking so they could sneak up on others. I didn’t ask what they did when they succeeded.

We spent a tense few minutes flying in silence, with no sign of invisible ships and only a few pop-ups. Apparently even flying blind couldn’t block all of them out. At least these were mostly informational things on the asteroids themselves, defunct notifications about events and attractions that had never been finalized.

One ship that looked cobbled together from spare parts had a blank panel above the thrusters that drew my eyes with how bright white it was. Eggskin stared at it intently. “This could be nothing,” they said, “But it could be important. Use a tight-beam scan for that panel.”

Wio did. As if the ship was just waiting for someone to look, it accelerated away and produced an image that glowed on our screen after it was long gone. The stylized pair of shapes were vaguely familiar.

While Eggskin made a disappointed grumble, I asked, “What is that? I’ve seen that symbol on the back of a racing ship.”

“I believe,” said Captain Sunlight, “It is an insult. A view of the bottoms of the pilot’s feet as they swim or fly away from you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Huh. I guess it’s like mooning someone. Or an ‘Eat my dust’ bumper sticker.”

Before anyone could ask what human nonsense I was talking about, Wio spotted the meeting location. “This one, right?” she asked the captain. “The mid-sized flat one?”

Captain Sunlight consulted a smaller screen. “That is where they said to meet. But they also said they would be here before us, ready to rush off as soon as they got our delivery.”

Wio and Captain Sunlight inspected the surrounding area for other ships, which all seemed to have left. I kept watching the stars, sparing a glance for Eggskin, who looked more intense than ever.

“Scan the landing area,” they said suddenly.

The message that popped up this time was a simple text one, in a language I didn’t recognize.

But Eggskin did. “Thought so. Send a tight-beam message back to open the drop box. This message.” They rattled off a string of numbers that Wio dutifully copied down and sent. I saw the captain also copy it onto her notepad with an expression that suggested she had some questions for Eggskin later.

Lo and behold, the flat part of the asteroid rolled back into an empty space that could have fit a ship larger than ours. The light of the distant sun showed it to be empty.

Captain Sunlight sat back, exasperated. “Where did they go?”

Wio said, “There’s a ship over there. Is that them?” She turned our view to show a speedy little junker careening between the asteroids toward us.

“I don’t think so,” the captain said. “Unless they had to use a different ship.”

A patch of stars behind it winked out. I pointed. “Invisible ship!”

Before Wio could hit the thrusters, Eggskin commanded, “Get in the drop box!”

Wio threw a glance at Captain Sunlight, who nodded. Wio sent our little courier ship diving into the secret hidey-hole, folding the solar sails and transmitting the other message Eggskin gave her to close the hatch.

It was very dark inside that drop box. I thought briefly about the rest of the crew, who had no idea how much danger they were in. I didn’t even know how much danger we were in. But I suspected it was a lot.

Eggskin said, “We should be safe after a few minutes. Given their trajectory, they were chasing that other ship. Even if they saw us, they’ll be busy.”

Wio asked, “These aren’t the people who will fine us, are they?”

“No,” Eggskin said firmly. “The Core will fine you, because they’re what passes for a police force out here. Spherical ships, like a planet’s core. That,” they said, pointing emphatically, “Was a Lancer. They will dismantle your ship, sell it for scrap, and sell you to a work camp. No, the Core won’t stop them. Yes, it’s terrible.”

The captain nodded. “One of the many reasons why you left.”

“Yes.”

“Well, we very much appreciate your expertise today!”

“I’m just glad I realized where we are,” Eggskin said. “I’ll make a point of checking the schedule more regularly.”

“And I will make a point of not accepting deliveries for this part of space, no matter how much they pay,” the captain said wryly.

We sat there a little while longer, until Eggskin said it was safe to open the hatch. All the stars were in place as we ventured out. Nothing moved, not even any drifting bits of dismantled ship. Good news.

But also bad news, since we still didn’t know where our client was.

“I will be extremely disappointed if all this risk was for nothing,” Captain Sunlight said. “Eggskin, are there likely to be other drop boxes nearby that they could have hidden in?”

Eggskin let out a breath. “If there are, I won’t know the codes for them.”

The captain made another note to herself, and told Wio to search the area for other likely asteroids. I did my part by continuing to watch the stars, just in case.

Wio said, “Most of these have a flat enough area to land on.”

Eggskin put in, “By design.”

“Should I turn the communications back on, to look for markers?” Wio asked. “There are no other ships over here to jam our screen.”

Eggskin muttered, “Optimistic.”

Captain Sunlight said, “Do it.”

The drifting space rocks were suddenly festooned with logos. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it wasn’t great. They were all old and glitchy.

Wio turned the volume up slightly, just enough to hear that any audio messages had dissolved into static. “If anybody spots something promising, sing out.”

We all watched the screen as Wio slowly toured the area. A couple of asteroids had newer pop-ups, but these were clearly graffiti: messages about how somebody was the envy of this half of the galaxy, or how whoever was reading the message should go stick their tail in a thruster.

“What species made most of this?” Wio asked.

“The original owners were Frillians,” said Eggskin. “Though that graffiti clearly wasn’t.”

“And what species is our client?” Wio asked the captain. “Or is it a mixed ship?”

Captain Sunlight glanced down at her notes, then up at me. “Human.”

Oh. No pressure. “I haven’t seen anything yet that looks particularly human-ish,” I said. “But I’ll look.” I gave up on the stars for now, and stared at the asteroids. “Are those two just extra flat, or do they have panels like that one ship did?”

Wio dutifully moved closer and scanned the two that I pointed out. One was a political slogan about something Waterwill-related from several years ago.

The other one was music. The volume was still quiet, but I recognized it. As Wio turned up the sound of synthetic drumbeats, I grinned at the old Earth anthem.

This asteroid was equipped with a rickroll.

“That’s a human thing,” I said. “Check that one.”

Wio took us closer, then she sent a short-range communication ping, the equivalent of knocking on the door.

And lo and behold, something pinged back and the door opened. A ship floated out that was sleek and aerodynamic, and painted in a camouflage pattern that did absolutely nothing to disguise it against the rock. I burst out laughing as Captain Sunlight hailed them to confirm that they were indeed the people we’d come to meet. I tried to laugh quietly.

With the drop box closed again, there was space for both small ships to land side by side. Theirs even had an extendable airlock that matched up with ours, saving everyone the inconvenience of getting into exo suits and doing the handoff in whatever atmosphere still clung in the artificial gravity.

I got to do the honors, with Captain Sunlight at hand close behind. I suspect she would have preferred to do it herself, but her little lizardy arms weren’t up to carrying a box this size, and there wasn’t space in the airlock for a hover sled. Simpler to just let the tall human do it.

The airlock opened to show a guy who looked malnourished, stressed, and very relieved to see me. “So glad you found us,” he said in an unfamiliar accent, grabbing the payment tablet before I could offer it. “It’s just one thing after another these days.”

“I bet,” I said. “Have you considered leaving? I have it on good authority that life is terrible around here.”

He handed the tablet back. “Thought about it. Dunno what we’d do for a living.”

I gave him the box, which according to the manifest included fresh chicken eggs, kosher salt, and a selection of media from Earth. “Have you considered a career as a courier?”

He smiled. “I’ll mention it to the crew.”

As he stepped back onto his own ship, I called, “Feel free to follow us out! We probably won’t get caught by anybody horrible on the way!”

I heard a chuckle as the door closed.

Once the airlocks were sorted away and everybody was back in position, Wio took us up from the asteroid, and back toward civilized space. I watched from the doorway while Eggskin kept an eye out for dangers. We made it out of the asteroid zone safely.

And so did the other ship, following close behind us.

~~~

Thanks to everybody who joined in the discussion of spaceship bumper stickers and related things, particularly @lillyjen and @voodootortoise!

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#while last week's story was slapstick shenanigans #this one involves real danger #but don't worry; everybody makes it out okay #this just takes place in a region we haven't been to yet #with inspiration taken from The Murderbot Diaries #and also from a couple great ideas from a thread a few weeks back #bumper stickers #and related things #science fiction #my writing #The Token Human #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #and of course there's that one thing I'd like to tag for #but it would give it away #and we can't have that #enjoy!

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