#not beta read but I didn't want to postpone it any longer

[jokeringcutio]

Little Bunny (A Black Phone Drabble) - Grabber x (F) Reader

Drabble fill for the Anon who so kindly donated to me. Anon Wrote: My prompt will be a girl gets nabbed by the grabber, & when he goes through her backpack, he finds she carries around a yellow comfort plush bunny (mocks and coos at her for it?) srry if thats weird lmao AN: Thank you for your donation. With your money I am already on my halfway goal of buying a new pair of glasses :D Which I really need, so thank you loads. You have no idea how much this means to me <3 Rating: NC-17 Due to themes, smut-related words and references. Little Bunny – Grabber x Reader

When you opened your eyes it was to the hunched form of a man. His lean, slender frame was bent over something, his back to you. You could faintly see the traces of his shoulder-length hair. Like Gollum hunched over his most coveted treasure.

Your vision was blurry, so you sat up and rubbed your eyes. Something sturdy was beneath you, not as soft as it should have been but no stones either. The room around you was dark and murky. There was a dull pounding in your skull and your lungs ached as if you’d inhaled too much smoke. Vague flashes of memories suddenly hit you. Of a man. A van. Black balloons. And you, polite and kind as ever, offering to help him.

Had your own kindness gotten you into this predicament? It did not seem fair.

Once your gaze slid back to the man, you noticed that he had turned around to look at you. But instead of meeting a human expression, you met the artificial smile of a pale devil with horns. No human face was visible. The man was wearing a mask to obscure his features from you, a sign that whatever he had in mind for you wasn’t going to be something good.

Devilish intentions, you thought, while a shudder of fear ran down your spine. A monster. Not a man. 

“Ah, so you are awake,” his low voice groused. But there was a certain playfulness to it. As if he was somehow twisting his voice into a caricature version of his own. He was toying with you. You brought your hand up to your chest at the realization, breathing rapidly while you tried to remain calm.

“Where am I?” You asked the first question that came to mind. Your sight was still returning to you, but you’d quickly noticed your surroundings. The same plain walls stared at you, all around. The only piece of furniture, if it could be described as such, was the mattress you woke up on.

“What are you doing with my bag?” you asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the blotted mattress. You noticed something sticky beneath your hands and glanced down shortly to see the many spots that must have been created by fluids. But what kind, you didn’t wish to give a thought.

You quickly looked up at your captor again. He was squatted next to your bag. The horrendous mask was directed at you, his eyes glinted behind it.

“Where am I?” you asked once more, as he still had not replied yet.

But it was as if your words were absorbed. You frowned slightly, aware that something wasn’t quite right – other than being abducted. Still, the man did not reply. Instead, he seemed to let out a heavy sigh - judging by the way his shoulders rose and then slumped again. And then he finally turned his head away from you to bring his focus back onto the contents of your bag.

You watched how the man removed a pen from the bag and seemed to study it. The mask tilted to the side while his finger stroked sensually past the plastic pen. Then, his hand up until his wrist disappeared into your bag again. A low breath could be heard, muffled behind the mask’s lips. Was he excited? A shudder, then his hand slowly emerged from your bag again. You half expected to see the pen again, but he had taken out your phone instead.

He studied it with a quiet curiosity. And you watched him with the same silent morbid curiosity. His thumb stroked past the edge until it pressed the power button. Your screen flashed to life shortly before it was silenced and darkness consumed the screen. The man was studying your things, you realized, as he tossed the phone back in and pulled out the next of your belongings.

His hands stroked with reverence past each item that he took out. He rattled your keys gently, then revealed a few items you always carried with you, then your wallet. There was an erotic kind of curiosity to the way he studied each little thing. You thought he had touched everything inside.

Everything, except one thing.

“Now, what do we have here?” The man’s voice made your breath hitch in your throat. It was low, ungodly so. You felt how a spark of longing shot deep into your core. Slick gathered between your folds and you quickly pressed your knees together, forcing your legs to rub against each other in an attempt to ignore what his voice was doing to you.

How could you get this aroused from sound alone? Once again, it wasn’t fair.

You shyly glimpsed away, afraid that he would notice your reaction or see the blush that must be on your cheeks. Apparently, it did not work, for the man had turned towards you fully now and took a deep breath. You heard it. Heard the inhale, heard the slight rasp to it. Then a low chuckle.

“Isn’t that cute?” the man continued, and you would have tried to avoid looking his way if it hadn’t been for the plush bunny he held in his hands. Reverently, as with all of your belongings, he held it, carried it almost on his palms. A yellow plush bunny that gave you comfort when times were harsh – and they had been lately.

If your cheeks hadn’t been red before, they certainly flushed now. Ashamed, you stared at him and bit your lip, biting down any comments you might have wanted to make.

“Why would a big girl like you have a need for a thing like this?” And it was a good question he asked, one that you often had asked yourself during your weaker moments. But then you always reminded yourself of the comfort it brought you. Was owning a plush animal such a bad thing for an adult? Did it make you weak or foolish?

If anything, you thought daring to carry your bunny around with you had always made you stronger.

Then his voice broke you out of your thoughts. Any leering comments you had expected were swapped aside for something far more sinister.

“Is it that you want to have something to cuddle with?” he hummed, the tone’s implication clear.  “Or someone?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what he must be hinting at, and you carefully scooted farther away from the stranger and as far back onto the dingy mattress as you could, until your back hit the hard wall. Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief, you held up an arm in front of you as if to stop him from getting any closer.

“Ah, suddenly getting shy?” the man cooed before you could even utter a word in your defense. You watched as he moved his arms to his sides. Your plush bunny was pressed against his hip, flattened with its soft face against the hardness of his hipbone, its ears tapped against the cold metal of the man’s belt.

And you winced. Your poor bunny.

“Please, sir,” finally you found your voice and the opportunity to get a word in between the man’s rambling. “It’s mine, my comfort bunny. Could you give it back?”

The mask tilted but there was no mistaking. His eyes were directed at your outstretched hand, your arm still in front of you, muscles slightly trembling. And something started to smolder in them. Some kind of perverted dark pleasure was visible in his eyes.

“That’s all right,” the man’s voice was low and leering. For a moment you expected him to hand back your plush toy. But then you saw him raise the bunny to his mask and heard the rough rasp of his voice. “You won’t be needing this any longer. If it is comfort you seek, then it is comfort I shall give you.”

And against all of your expectations, down the bunny went, onto the dirt-covered stone floor. Without thinking you dove forward to catch it, ending up in front of the man’s feet on the floor.

Your hand came to rest upon the plush fur of your most beloved toy, when suddenly a shoe was upon it, crushing the back of your hand under the rubber soles of a sturdy shoe. You lay vulnerably in front of the man, completely at his mercy. A pained groan escaped you through gritted teeth, and you looked up to meet the devilish silhouette that towered above you.

Your kidnapper seemed nothing more but a shadow, the mask’s features hidden in the darkness of the room. But his eyes, oh! They glinted like embers in the night. A pure evil shone within them; the promise of a devil.

“I think,” the low murmured words fell silent on the basement’s tiles and he added a little more weight onto your hand, just enough that the pain became unbearable, but not enough to crack bones. “You and I are going to get real comfortable around each other, sweetheart.”

Then, his foot lifted from your hand, making you gasp in relief. Your other hand cradled your hurt one, bringing it close to your chest, your bunny as well – no way you were going to let go of it now.

Your kidnapper looked down at you, hands on his hips, and huffed. “Oh yes,” his voice lowered another notch until the low vibrations sent tingles of pleasure down your sopping cunt. Despite being scared, you felt the thrill of being in this man's hands. Especially when his low murmur brought another promise:

“Real comfortable.”

[silkspectred]

Describe the dream fics you aren’t writing and/or probably never will for whatever reason (no spoons, no longer in hat fandom headspace, to long, to much research, etc) for:

Steve/Tony

Spuffy

or Dean/Cas?

i think for stevetony i have two answers, one for mcu and one for 616.

616 is this one, which is an idea i never got around to write and now probably never will. but i'm very fond of it and i think it could have been great.

for mcu, it's a story titled "the hardest story that i've ever told" (from mika's song happy ending). it's a post endgame story that i literally thought up while i was in the car driving home from watching the movie at the cinema. i was alone and i stopped on the motorway at night to record a voice memo on my phone with the basic idea. i've written two versions of it, both are almost finished but not quite. i've reread it recently and i want to rewrite it a third time. who knows, if i manage to do it maybe third time will be the charm. i can't say much about the story itself because even the premise spoils the whole thing. just imagine that the title is something steve tells tony.

for spuffy — i guess i'll do this in reverse, because i have actually finally managed to write the story i thought about when i finished watching the show back when it first aired. 20+ years in the making, lol. i need to find someone to beta read it and it's not easy, mostly because that's my excuse to postpone sharing it. I haven't posted in a long time, spuffy is a new fandom for me and i'm. scared. so i'm waiting for the moment where i'll be less scared.

i'm also currently writing another spuffy story. i got stuck on a thing for a bit and i literally just got unstuck like ten minutes ago. it's a darker story, though, so i'm even more scared about potentially sharing it when it's done. (and how sad is that? why has fandom turned into this hostile place?)

for deancas — i think deancas is, hands down, the ship about which i've read most fics. as in, the highest number. but i never really wrote it, idk why. i didn't have the skills back then, or the courage. i felt okay just reading other people's stuff, so i never really entertained any particular fic ideas. you know how it is, some ships are just like that, and they don't mean less to you because of it. it's just the way things are sometimes.

[dam-peace]

Life Update, Game Updates.

Hey guys,

As I mentioned in my  post yesterday, things have been pretty hard recently. I actually fractured my foot a couple weeks ago on my way to work, and am currently unable to walk. My job refused to give me sick pay, because my 'average weekly earnings were not high enough', which is funny considering I was a full-time worker.

All in all it was just their roundabout way of saying that I wasn't entitled to sick pay, because I haven't worked there long enough. Long story short, I just put in my 2 weeks for the job because I just didn't have the will to fight a losing battle. So, now I'm currently looking for a new job remote from home, so money's been tight, made that much worse by the increase in the cost of living. 

I was also supposed to get a mortgage to move into a better house and area, but looks like that may not be in the works right now. Something that I was extremely excited for, even postponed going back to University for. The career I chose to go into years ago is no longer what I want to peruse.

Worse, its becoming one of the main things that deteriorates my mental health further, not to mention my poor mother is extremely overworked, underpaid and suffering from her own physical ailments. ​And, I'm not exactly helping things either as the eldest, with me being bedbound and now out of a job. Though she doesn't hold it over my head, which only makes the guilt that much worse.

Mentally, physically, emotionally and financially I just feel drained. I'm trying to hold onto things that give me enjoyment, like making my games. As well as maintaining a positive attitude, because the last thing I want is for my depression to take hold of my life like it used to.  Whilst I look for a new job, I actually plan to take a break from doing asks on Tumblr and what not to start my patreon again.

This time better than ever, as I now know what I'll be doing and what to offer, after looking at what other creators are doing for ideas. I'll still try to answer any questions you guys may have and reply to any comments, it's just sometimes I get overstimulated and completely shut down at times. So if I'm taking a bit of time to do something, please just be patient with me, I really am trying. 

So for now I won't be updating the public demos for awhile, as I want to work on the alpha build for patreon, as well as other patreon content. When I do so, I then want to start looking for beta testers to take a bit off of my plate, because looking back through all the coding and story content is something that frustrates me beyond belief, and again is very overstimulating for me.

In addition to a 'Coding Advisor' of sorts with the beta testers or amongst the best testers, someone who can help me properly code in things that I can't seem to find the solution for myself. Because as I've mentioned before, I'm still new to coding and there are many things I'm still unable to do, e.g. coding in a 'dark mode' for readers. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to pay any of these people, but they would be credited in my work. 

So, yeah that's been my life, if you managed to actually read through everything above, good on you. I probably would've looked at all that lengthy text and clicked off, lol. But, despite all the depressing stuff above, I just want to take the time to thank each and every one of you for you love and support.

From the views, downloads and playthroughs to the kind comments, constructive criticism, game ratings, follows, likes, questions/asks, artwork, reposts and payments. As well as, adding my games to your collections, or by simply just showing a genuine interest. I thank you for every contribution you've every made in any way, because no matter how small it may seem to you. It really does mean a lot, and continues to push me forward, through some really hard times ♡

[cxlxrx]

Pinky Swear

Chapter summary: Hughie learns to live with Soldier Boy and his triggers

Warnings: canon typical violence, PTSD

WC: 2.792

A/N: again tagging my amazing beta @lifeisthisilikethis (I can't thank you enough really, your little details and ideas for the story are great <3) and @whoopsitswhump (you give me such good headcanons for the story, thanks :3)

Chapter 2

Soldier Boy really followed Hughie everywhere, it got annoying pretty quickly. When Hughie went to sleep, Soldier Boy sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the door. When Hughie woke up, he was still in this position. But the supe trailing after him like a lost puppy was not the worst part, the worst part was that he didn't talk.

So he didn't tell Hughie what he wanted, what he needed. And Hughie also had Butcher asking for information, but he couldn’t see that happening any time soon. And there was something else that Hughie hated but Butcher loved-- Soldier Boy only acted when Hughie commanded him to.

Hughie had cut Soldier Boy’s beard and hair. After that he nearly looked like his old pictures. Hughie was kind of impressed, Soldier Boy hadn't aged a day. The man whom Hughie was only used to seeing in history books was now inhabiting his apartment. He bought Soldier Boy some clothes. For himself he bought a Geiger counter. Now the (mostly) steady ticking from the counter was his other day to day partner.

Soldier Boy was actually easy to handle, until he wasn't. He wouldn't eat or drink on his own. He wouldn't even go to the toilet until Hughie said he should do it. He was Hughie’s second shadow by now. But still the worst thing for Hughie was Soldier Boy’s refusal to speak. Even when Hughie tried to convince him. The only proof that Soldier Boy understood him was the ticking of the Geiger counter getting faster. After many futile attempts and an unhealthy amount of irradiation, Hughie stopped trying to convince him.

Overall, the constant fear of being blown away made everyday life pretty complicated. Certain noises, words, actions, or even smells always made the Geiger counter speed up. Hughie immediately took note of it and tried to remove the trigger from Soldier Boy’s immediate vicinity. Butcher had casually voiced the theory that they probably would all be blown to bits if the Geiger counter was high enough. And well, Hughie still wanted to live. Despite everything.

"Here", Hughie held out a glass to Soldier Boy, "Drink."

Soldier Boy took the glass and drank all the water in one go. He has already been living with Butcher and Hughie for a week, but he has yet to meet any of the other team members. And even worse, Hughie and Butcher didn't tell the others anything about the  103 years old radioactive guy sharing their living quarters. They knew it was all bound to blow up in their faces, be it literally or metaphorically. So they decided to come clean. They couldn't postpone the meeting any longer.

"Today some friends will drop by to visit us", Hughie said.

Soldier Boy looked at him, tilted his head. After a week Hughie had gotten better at reading him. When he tilted his head it usually meant he didn't really understand what Hughie wanted from him. After a while Hughie figured out that he needed to be exact and detailed in what he said. For example, saying 'sit down', was bound to only get him a confused heat tilt-- he had to say 'sit down on the couch'. Every time the instructions weren't clear enough, the beeping coming from the Geiger counter would pick up, and Hughie would immediately hurry to add specifics. 

"We’ve already talked about this", Hughie said calmly, "Frenchie, Kimiko and MM. They're my friends… our friends."

Soldier Boy only looked at him.

"They will be coming around 1 pm, and then we will order some take out, get something to eat. Do you understand?" Hughie had found out that Soldier Boy could better adapt to new things when he knew exactly what was going to  happen.

The Geiger counter was slower, the number displayed on the little screen oscillating between 70 and 80, which Hughie knew was pretty normal when it came to Soldier Boy. He constantly put out steady stream of  ionizing radiation. Hughie didn't want to push him to his limit. Soldier Boy nodded.

Hughie sighed, "Okay, that's good. Do you want to sleep?"

Soldier Boy's pupils widened a little, but otherwise his body remained still as a statue. Sleep was a difficult topic. The supe didn't sleep when Hughie did it. It was like he would rather guard Hughie, probably one of his duties back with the Russians. Soldier Boy only slept when Hughie was awake and in close proximity. Mostly, Soldier Boy slept during the day, as Hughie cooked, cleaned,  or watched a movie. But Soldier Boy didn't trust Butcher, so he refused to let sleep overtake him if someone beside Hughie was around. Hughie had unfortunately only found this out 4 days ago.

He had always assumed Soldier Boy would also sleep as he slept (he thought the sitting position was a comfort thing fro the supe). But no, that wasn't the case. Hughie could have slapped himself afterwards. The third day Soldier Boy was with him, he started to scratch himself. And he kept scratching, and scratching. The abrasions got so deep they drew blood. Hughie nearly lost his lunch when he saw the gaping wounds on his forearm and the puddle of blood staining the floor, slowly getting bigger, threatening to leave a permanent reminder of the incident on the white rug.

After that particular episode, Hughie was more sensitive when it came to Soldier Boy’s sleeping schedule. Namely, he tried to come up with one.  He never wanted to see the supe hurting himself in order to stay awake ever again. Soldier Boy had been awake for three consecutive days and Hughie had no idea. He didn’t even want to think about how much longer it would have gone on if he had missed the scratches. His conscience was heavy, even now, even when he knew it wasn’t entirely his fault.  He had tortured Soldier Boy  probably much like the Russians did.

"I will be right here", Hughie gestured to the couch, "I will watch a movie and Butcher won't be here for a couple of hours. It's safe. You can sleep now."

Soldier Boy nodded slowly. He stood up and headed to the table in front of the couch. He curled up under it and folded his hands over his head. It tugged painfully at Hughie’s heartstrings, seeing the other man in this position. He slept like a little kid, curled up under the table in a  foetal position. Hughie  went in the kitchen to wash the dishes. After putting them away, he returned to the living room.  He sat on the couch to started a movie.

He was always on highly alert during these times. The Geiger counter always started to tick faster when Soldier Boy was asleep. Hughie was afraid that  the Supe could get triggered by a nightmare, that he could go off in his sleep. He was kind of glad Soldier Boy didn't need much sleep. He usually was out for no more than 5 to 6 hours. But he twitched a lot in his sleep as the light in his chest shone steadily through his shirt. Soldier Boy asleep was always a stress test for Hughie. He only hope he would keep getting a passing grade, or else they were both fucked.

Hughie knew the boys coming over would be uncomfortable. He didn't know how Soldier Boy would reacted to them. Starlight had been a good start, but slowly Hughie understood why. Frenchie was absolutely excited about Soldier Boy. He circled him multiple times, fascinated by the light in his chest.

"I always thought it was a rumour. Like this kind of legend the army made up to scare their enemies, to hold it over their heads."

His eyes were wide as he looked at Soldier Boy's chest. Hughie knew he was itching to touch it, to better examine it, to take it apart and put it back together until he knew all there was to know about it. Frenchie confirmed his assumptions almost instantly. 

"Can I touch it?"

"Ehm, no, you really shouldn't. He can't stand... touching", Hughie said slowly, still a bit unsure about the whole situation.

Soldier Boy stood extremely close to him. Hughie could feel the heat radiating off of him. It was like being handcuffed to a furnace.  Yesterday he took Soldier Boy's temperature and it was over 110 °F. Hughie would be extremely worried if it weren’t for the whole ‘radioactive supe with a bright shining light in his chest’ thing . The fact that he didn't look sick in the slightest also went a long way into putting Hughie’s mind at ease.

Suddenly Frenchie was in front of him, smiling. Hughie winced a bit, he'd been deep in thought, distracted. Now that he had satisfied his curiosity, at least for the time being, the frenchman wanted to give him the hello hug that got lost in his initial excitement over their new team mate. His hands had barely  touched Hughie’s shoulders as found himself brutally ripped away. He was thrown across the length of the room and crashed in Butcher's desk.

"What are you doing?", Hughie shouted and Soldier Boy winced hard.

He stared at his feet. The Geiger counter ticked rapidly and the light was brighter then usual. Soldier Boy's eyes were blank. He didn't look at anybody,  just kept on staring at the floor, but Hughie knew he was on highly alert.

MM raised his eyebrows and stepped away from the wall he was leaning against, an angry look on his face, a way to cover up the betrayal and hurt Hughie could see brimming underneath. 

"He's fucking dangerous", he hissed.

So far he had just stood next to the door, eyeing  Soldier Boy with a look full of hatred. Hughie had never seen so much hate in MM’s eyes before. If looks could kill, the supe would be dead a hundred times over by now.

"He was when he killed my family and obviously he still is." He looked at Hughie in disbelief, "Why you don't see it? He could kill every single one of us without breaking a sweat, and go on his merry way. The man has no conscience, Hughie."

He made a movement in Hughie's direction and the Geiger counter on the table ticked faster. It was in the low hundreds now.

"MM don't", Hughie felt dizzy. He hadn’t even known about MM's family.

This meeting was such a stupid idea… but on the other hand, these people were his family. Usually, if one of them ran into trouble, all of them had to deal with the fallout. So they had a right to know about Soldier Boy. Just in case Hughie bit off more than he could chew. Which, loath as he was to admit it, seemed to be the case here. They needed to be prepared.

"That's enough MM", Butcher said and stepped next to Hughie, "Ya' don't touch him. We need him."

MM stared at him.

"So you get your pound of flesh when it comes to Homelander, but I don't get mine. Real nice, Butcher. "

When Butcher threw him one of his cocky smiles, Hughie knew something dangerous was bound to happen.

"Ya' can have your revenge. But not know."

"Don't mind me", Frenchie said from the other side of the room, groaning in pain, "I'm just laying in the rubble of what used to be a fucking desk and my ribs are fucking broken. Merde!"

Hughie turned around in alarm, quickly moving towards him.

"Your ribs are broken!?"

Kimiko, who was sitting at Frenchie's side, shook her head. Hughie didn't miss how she had positioned herself in front of Frenchie. A barrier. Protective.

"But they could be!", Frenchie said and let Kimiko pull him back on his feet.

"He's just our weapon", Butcher explained to MM, and Hughie turned his attention back to them.

MM still stared at Soldier Boy, the Geiger counter was still ticking too fast for Hughie’s comfort. He looked at the supe, attempting to get the situation under control. 

"Ehm...it's okay", he said quietly, with the tone of someone trying to calm a spooked, cornered wild beast.

He didn't knew what he should say or do, but he assumed that if nobody tried to touch Soldier Boy or him again, it would be fine. Soldier Boy looked at him. His eyes were wide and... and green. Such a brilliant, lush green. Hughie shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the unwelcome thought from his treacherous brain. He didn’t know where that had come from, but he wasn’t fond of that particular line of thinking. The ticking slowed down.

"... then we’ll take it from there.", Hughie only caught the tail end of Butcher’s talk with MM, as the man turned to him  "And anyway, he does everything Hughie tells him to."

"Est-ce vrai?? Really? ", Frenchie said from behind and came to stand next to the others, but still a few steps away from Soldier Boy.

"The Russian broke his mind", Butcher said, "He's not the man he was, but", he raised his right forefinger, "that's good for us. We can just point and shoot, have him take out any target that needs taking out."

"Like our own personal nuke.. ", Frenchie spoke in wonder."Exactly.", Butcher answered, "He's our first real opportunity to kill Homelander and every other fucking supe. He's like a one man army. His shining", Butcher gestured to Soldier Boy's chest, "is just the edge we need to turn the tide, stop scurrying around like rats, actually do some real damage to the fuckers ."

Everyone already knew that. They’ve heard the stories, learned about them in school classrooms, whispered to each other the urban legends on the playground. But no one ever saw him using this power. On the other hand,  nobody was eager to see what he could do. Radioactive explosion sounded like a bad thing.

Kimiko pulled at Frenchie's sleeve and signed something. Frenchie seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded and turned back to Butcher.

"She thinks it's a bad idea. We shouldn't mess around with something as destructive as him. Especially since he’s not only radioactive, but most probably mentally unstable too."

"Seeing as he’s our best bet to take out Homelander, I’m willing to take the risk", Butcher answered.

"T’es sérieux? I'm with Kimiko", Frenchie said, "I mean, a fucking radioactive explosion. Butcher, I think that's too much, even for us. When in history has dropping a nuke ever been the answer?"

"Who fucking asked ya'? He's the best fucking weapon we have against the other supes and I will fucking use it."

"Okay, that's enough", Hughie said, and five pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

Like they had forgotten he was actually there. And yes, Hughie himself had nearly forgotten he was there. His eyes locked with Soldier Boy’s for a brief moment.

"I want Homelander dead as much as any of you, but lets not forget, he's an actual human being first, and a radioactive bomb second” he continued, gesturing to the supe.

“We don't know how powerful the explosion could be and we can't ask him either. Because he doesn't fucking talk. Because he's fucking traumatized!  I don't really know if betting everything on somebody whose psyche is so heavily damaged a car backfiring outside could set him off is a good idea”, Hughie exhaled loudly, finishing his impromptu rant.

Sure, he wanted Homelander dead, wanted to protect Annie, wanted to keep his friends and the world at large safe from the unstable leader of The Seven.  With Homelander dead, they could all finally breath easy. They could start building their lives and planning for the future, instead of looking over their shoulder, unsure if their next breath will be their last. Hughie would do anything to make it happen, but he was afraid the price could turn out to be to high. Pitting Soldier Boy against Homelander could be disastrous. Lots of lives would be lost. Innocent people would die, and Hughie could never forgive himself. He wasn’t eager to add more blood to the red already staining his hands. 

Butcher slapped a hand on Hughie's shoulder, startling him for his reverie. Immediately, Soldier Boy took a step forward. Hughie raised his right hand, placating.

"It's okay."

"Then get the cunt fucking ready for the big showdown", Butcher said, misinterpreting Hughie’s words as agreement, "He'll kill Homelander. Doesn't matter what the fuck ya'll say, he will. I'll make fucking sure of that."

He grinned, "That'll be fucking diabolical."