#so instead of like half ass it last night i wanted to wait to answer it today so i could give a proper responce

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[mildlyromanticperv]

What did you expect of me?

Karina x MReader. Fluff. Enemies to lovers.

-For christ sake, what a bitch! -Your anger boiling in your heart and your brain tells you, no, yells you to go to your managers office and demand a fair treatment, it's just ourageous that among all the workers in the office you have to stay late every single day of the week to cover the "last project of the quarter".

No matter what you do, how hard you work, how many late nights and how many cups of coffee you drink at a day, it just feels like a prison in here, the office that hired you as the main developer for the website on their new brand "Supernova."

Plus, who names a project "Supernova"? Sounds like with just a simple code here and there you'd make the market implode and then explode in money... If your manager Karina expects for that to happen she's either naively hopeful or a total delusional.

-You, come to my office. -Her cold words stabs your brain, after a whole week hearing her low pitch condescending dictatorial voice you can't bear to listen to it one more time, but you need this job like, DESPERATELY need this job, so there's no talk back to the boss.

-Yes boss?

-We're behind on the project, have you been slacking off again? -Her cold judgemental gaze falls upon your black sacked eyes showing off the immense exhaustion you have tu put up with during the project.

-Look boss, I'm doing my best, I haven't slept well these past few days but I assure you I will have everything ready by next month even if the useless of my coworkers don't do shit. -Your tongye got the best of you and runs wild. -I just need to have a good night sleep, can you let me out early today?

-No, we are all hands on deck and you know that. -She sighs and rubs her forehead in a clear show of stress and disappointment. -Just go back to work and don't screw anything up.

Any person with enough patience would put up with that shit, but not you, not now at least. The condescending tone and the past sleep deprived week has been just too much for you, clearly you're not thinking straight anymore, or perhaps you're thinking clearer...?

-Fuck this.

-Excuse me? -She responds with equal or perhaps even higher anger.

-Fuck this Karina, I'm not doing any more shit today and I'm tired to put up with your fucking demands. Fire me if you want I'm going home to sleep. -You really shuld've thought that better, but what is done is done, you start to pick up your stuff and bracing yourself for the shouting match.

-You cross that door and you're suspended, one week half pay. -Surprisingly enough instead of picking up a fight and shouting her vocal cords off as she usually does, she just stares straight into your eyes with a gaze so cold it could freeze hell itself. -You're not the only developer in our payroll, if I wanted I could fire your sorry ass right now and make it so you never work as a developer never again in your life, so consider this a favour.

Breathe.

Don't let that tone of hers get into your core.

Just, breathe.

-Fuck you. -It's the only thing you get to say before actually leaving.

-One week suspension no pay, and don't you dare call me or text me asking to forgive you. Jackass.

With the anger oozing through your pores you just slam the door and head out. You start your car and praying you don't crash you go from 0 to 100 in just a couple of seconds screeching the tires of your car.

-Please god, take care of him... -She sighs under her breath.

But wait... What?

Take care of him?

During that next week there was absolutely no news from you on the office, things started to be more... tense. You've received a ton of messages from your coworkers basically begging him to come back, but the answer is defenitive: No.

However things don't ever go your way.

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

-Hey, we need to talk, come to the office. -Again, that swee... No. Annyoing voice again.

-I'm suspended. -Your answer comes as soon as the thought hits your brain.

A sigh from the other line and a faint whisper.

-This man is going to be the death of me some day. -But then the usual tone returns. -Look, I made a rash decision and we need your intel, you're the one that knows the way around our software.

-I thought you had several developers in your payroll, I bet they can help. -You say sipping through the wine you bought for that dinner for one you've been pushing away so much due to the job.

-I'm asking nicely, and around here you know that's as rare as an unicorn. Just come here tomorrow and finish the project, we're ahead.

-Ahead? What do you mean ahead? You said we we're behind last week! -Your voice comes harsher and harsher, even though your chest is telling you not to.

Not to her.

-I lied to try and make things faster, okay? Just come and we can talk like professionals. -She couldn't come to acknowledge the fact that she just wanted to see you. She couldn't admit that she misses your cologne, your three day beard and your stoic gaze when you're so deep in thought. -I'll send you the advances that have been made.

Right away she hangs up the phone, relieved she didn't break down into yelling or insults. Right away an email arrives on your computer with such incredibly... small advances looks like you carried the entire project all by yourself.

-Why am I not surprised? -You sigh under your breath as you pause the movie you were watching and read what has been done, immediately you start chaning... well, almost everything.

Next day...

You should at least turn off the car, for real, have you seen how expensive the gas is around these days?

"Just go, I avoid her any longer... I- I don't want to..." -It's the only thought that crosses your mind, the thought of seeing her piercing eyes again, the feeling of her gaze piercing and burning through your very soul, the loud beating of your heart as you look at her lips...

Her lips...

If only she wasn't your boss, right?

-So, I checked the non existent advances the useless guys did, and...

-How you've been? Have you slept well? -For some reason her tone wasn't condescending anymore, the worry present on her voice...

Could it be?

-Yes, finally in months I've been sleeping great... -Her eyes, oh. my. god... Her eyes... -Anyways, I have everything finished now, you can present it to corporate. -You say trying to avoid her eyes as you speak sarcastically and look at your watch.

-Big date coming or something? -She asks, doing an awesome job yo hide the jealousy.

-Just wondering how long this will take. -She sighs again, feeling the anger and stress of your cold demeanor.

-Your week of suspension ends today and the weekind is off by legal, so you can go now and I'll see you on monday.

-Sure.

After that you just go back to your usual routine, the weekend goes great and the next week of work comes, with so much less stress that even the busiest day feels like a walk through the park. The time off work led you to watch so much shows, and so much free time, time spent in imagining your life outside of work with that person that would make your days so much happier.

Thinking of love.

What a great future you could have, perhaps you could get married and have kids, after all that's your dream.

In a year you'd ascendo in your job, start earning more, you'd start dating to finally get the chance to let you feel that love you so desperately look for, In a year your boss wouldn't be your boss and perhaps you could date her, in a year you'd buy your first...

Your boss? Date... your boss?

Why would you think that? She's a bitch.

"But she's a gorgeous bitch." You thought, perhaps... only perhaps... You wanted that, you liked your boss...

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

Your phone rings with a text from your boss.

-Corporate loved the project, we were given monday to celebrate, so I'll be expecting you monday 7:00 A.M. sharp for the party.

-Got it boss. And hey, sorry for snapping out last week. -Perhaps this could be a beginning, you know you should keep things professional, you keep telling yourself to stop but flesh is weak.

-Yeah, just don't be late. -Her response cold as always after 5 minutes of writing and deleting, she's also in the midst of an inner debate, whether let herself feel what she wants to feel for you or just don't say anything.

But why? Why shouldn't you try? Because she's your boss? There's plenty of people that date with their boss and make it work, you shouldn't keep ahold of the prospect of your happiness just because people might judge, that's the whole point, living for yourself and be happy yourself. Isn't it?

That very Monday at 7:00 A.M. you show yourself at work wearing a new white T-shirt and some loose jeans, your usual wrist watch and a new cologne you bought just for your boss, nothing else is going to stop you.

-Hey, boss. -You came to talk to her made a nrevous wreck not really knowing what to do to get her attention.

-Oh, here he is, the brain behind it all. -She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to present you to some corporate officers like if you were a prize, like you never shouted before... Like you two were friends... Being so close to her made your every sense enter overdrive and your nostrils welcomed her particular scent, that magnificent smell of lavender and strawberries sent your head over the moon.

The rest of the party went completely normal, talking here, showing off there... Taking glances at your boss every once in a while as well.

Wait, did she looked at you as well?

Was she blushing?

-Hey boss can I talk to you for a sec? -You got closer and whispered into her ear, not long after she pointed you to the balcony where you usually go to have your lunch.

-Make it quick.

-Look boss, there's no easy way for me to say this, but I think I should quit... I... I have feelings for you.

-Is that so? -Her cold demeanor makes you back off for a second, unable to tell the truth in her eyes you stutter.

-I know, I know that I was rude last week and I'm being just way too out of line. -Her eyes shine with a glint never seen before, in her mind the thoughts are divided whether she should speak from her heart, as Karina. Or speak from her brain as Ms. Jimin, regional Manager of your branch.

-You know you're my worker, and this is incredibly inappropriate.

-Don't you feel the same for me? I saw you looking for my eyes before.

-Don't be ridiculous, I'm your boss. -Despite the way she feels work ethics comes first, how can a manager could let a worker speak to her that way?

-I don't care. -It's the last thing you said before leaning forward and placing your hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin and pressing your lips over hers.

For a second all that exists is you and her, together in a tight embrace holding her waist desperately thinking that if you'd ever let go of her she'd just vanish in the thin air. She responds to your advances letting your body invade her personal space, for mere seconds that feel like an eternity all that she can feel is your hands gripping her blouse until she lets go of any ties and wrap her arms around your neck, tipping into her toe-tips to match as much as she can your height.

-We... We can't... I'm your boss... -Her voice comes out cracking, breathing unsteady due to the raw passion she just felt a while ago. -It's inappropriate.

-I don't care, I'll quit if needed, I just care that I want you.

-I want you too. -She rests her head on your shoulder nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck.

You then caress her soft hair, taking a deep breath of her unique scent that send jolts of electricity along your brain.

-So what now, boss? -This time the words come out strong, lovingly, softly.

-Now we talk to HR, couples need to fill paperwork. -She pulls back and looks into your eyes again. -You always make me do more and more paperwork... -She then whispers in your ear. -Sweetie.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back

Series Masterlist

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

Word Count: 19k

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

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

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

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back, bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She leaned forward, holding his gaze with her own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to fucking get it together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking bring it, Pretty Boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck is a BBL?”

“Brazilian Butt Lift.”

“You can’t just fucking say shit-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not pretty, the Thing would grumble. Beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you on about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had his fucking answer for Butcher.

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

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

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

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Need a week.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a guess.” She said coldly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions

Fucking pick up.

Butcher said you and Soldier Boy were fighting.

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

Or I’m sending Annie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being fucking dramatic-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ben.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben swore at himself. This was getting fucking ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, this isn’t about you.”

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

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

“But what if-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Don’t call her that.” Ben snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And there fucking is?”

“FBSA HQ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben frowned. “Head-popper.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said she combusted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck does that mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

She was singing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

More fucking silent gestures. Ben’s patience snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just you. Nobody else. Nobody even near you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you sang. For the whole day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back.” You said stupidly.

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

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

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

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

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

You could feel yourself pale. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can fix-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t break, you can’t break -

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

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

“I burned your face.” You mumbled.

He just shrugged. “You burn, I burn.”

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

“Mini-Homelanders?” 

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

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

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

“Sunshine-“

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

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

“Once,” you whisper. “Right after.”

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

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

He frowns, but nods. “Ok.”

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

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

His brows furrow. “Better at what?”

“Dealing with me.”

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

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine? Fine like you’ll let me-“

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

 “We ready for bed?” Ben says, and you have to swallow to be able to answer.

“Uh, yeah.” You blink at Ben, his words echoing in your head, and realize that the hot fury in your stomach—his stomach—is gone. “You’re not mad at me? Even after I-“

“Omitted a truth?” Ben gave you a loose smile, and the Feeling squirmed. “I’m calling it even, Sunshine. Now let’s get you bed, you look like you’re about to fucking collapse.”

You were, but not because of fatigue. And Ben didn’t have to know that, especially because he would probably just laugh and you’d be left alone with the Feeling.

 “I might have those kinds of nightmares,” you whisper, touching his chest. Offering another out. “If I do, I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. Badly.”

“I’ll get over it.” He says, and that’s it. You both move to the bed, taking your unspoken places on each side of the mattress, and you’re ready to go through the motions. You fall asleep and he moves you against him, he falls asleep second and you wake up to watch him for a while before returning to sleep once more.

But Ben doesn’t remain tensely upright at your side. When you lie down, he does as well. Then, before you’ve even really processed the first new thing, Ben pulls you fully against him, arms around your body as your head rests on his chest. You don’t say anything—the Feeling is pleased and you’re a little afraid he’ll vanish if you even speak—so you take the folds of his shirt in your hands, and press your face deep into his shirt. He smells like coffee and gunpowder and pine trees, his heart is steady, and he’s warm.

You decided it—the Feeling, the shower, the grip on your heart when he touches you—was because he was safe. From you. You could not hurt him, he was the only person in the world you really couldn’t hurt, so that’s why you caved, and let him hold you. Nothing more, nothing less.

You felt alive with Ben because, by completely coincidental fate, you could be.

 You had no nightmares when you slept in his arms because Ben wasn’t having any, and his own peace ran into yours.

The Feeling was quiet because your heart was beating in time with the world, and it felt good.

This felt… good.

End Note: Everyone say a very big thank you to @acciditties for single handedly removing our “no beta” tag as we earn our “smut” tag. Also, if If you thought their pining was bad this chapter, think again! These two are about to ignore their emotions at an Olympic level!

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where Jake is flirting with a plus size girl who doesn’t think he’s really attracted to her but still goes home with him (a bit self destructive she knows) but when she has to physically pull him from between her thighs because he’s about to pass out from the lack of breathing/cumming in his pants she realizes that “oh shit he does like me”

Oh I feel this so hard and this got away from me enjoy!

She thinks when Jake comes up to her that he wants to know about her friends, because why else would he come up and talk to her?

And when Jake asks her about herself, she still thinks that's his goal. So she's guarded, her answers are short and to the point. Just waiting for him to bring up one of the girls she came with, waiting for those four words that always come when someone like him talks to someone like her.

"Is your friend single?"

But strangely, those words never come. Because Jake (God bless him) just thinks the bar is too noisy and that's why you're being quiet.

"Do you want to go outside? Where it's not as loud?"

"Why?" It's an automatic response due to years of being ignored, rejected, passed over. It's genuine confusion because he could be talking to anyone here, so why would he want to talk to you?

Jake's brows knit together in confusion. He thought he was being very obvious in his flirting.

"So I can hear you better?" He says it like a question because he's confused too, just for a different reason. He had pulled out all the stops; buying you a drink, complimenting your smile, leaning in to close the distance between his body and her's.

But that hasn't stopped her from looking around the bar, keeping an eye out for snickering friends who are filming the interaction with their phones or passing a wad of cash to each other for winning a bet this Adonis was acting out.

Long fingers hooked themselves around her chin, gently tilting her head back to Jake's.

His smile is now soft, hesitant almost. Nothing like the eye-crinkling grin he had early when he found something she said hilarious.

"If you don't want to, it's fine. You can tell me."

A way out. A way to avoid rejection. A way to avoid being let down, avoid feeling unwanted.

Saying no is the sensible thing to do.

And yet, she finds herself out on the beach with Jake Seresin, who's looking at her as if she put the stars in the night sky.

She knows she can leave anytime, and so could he. She expects it, waits for a half assed excuse, an 'emergency' phone call to occur, an early meeting tomorrow morning. Anything for him to leave.

But Jake doesn't leave. In fact, he does the unthinkable and asks if she wants to come back to his place.

Another chance to leave that she didn't take. She knows whatever this is, it won't last longer than tonight. It's going to hurt like hell tomorrow morning, but it's fun to pretend that a guy actually wants to be with you, right?

But Jake keeps surprising her. First when he kisses her.

Second when he asks if she wants to go upstairs.

He hasn't had a drink since they left the bar, so alcohol isn't clouding his vision and the whole being in the Navy thing rules out drugs.

Maybe it's been a while since he's gotten laid and he's desperate. But even she knows that one is impossible given his looks and charms.

The biggest surprise is when he doesn't reach for the lamp after she lies down on his bed.

"Aren't you...going to turn it off?" She motions to the lamp, a rather incredulous look taking over her face.

Jake tilts his head to the side, resembling a confused puppy more than a Greek God.

"Why would I do that? Then I can't see you."

He wants to see me.

The words repeat over and over in her head. When he pulls off her shirt, she fights the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach, instead pulling him into a bruising kiss.

"You're so soft," his hands are traveling everywhere along her body, as if he's trying to commit the feeling to memory, "Fucking love it."

The seed of doubt becomes smaller and smaller as the night goes on, though it still looms in the back of her head. This is just for a night, it'll only last a night, but what's wrong with that?

There's a lot wrong with that, but that's something to talk in therapy. She tries to push it to the back of her mind, focusing on how good his tongue feels on her clit, how his fingers are able to find the spot that makes her whole body shake in pleasure.

Wait, how long has he been down there?

She was expecting him to come up when she first came but then he kept going.

The noises Jake was making kept getting louder too. Moans vibrating against her wet cunt. Then the bed began to squeak.

That was what caused her to lift her head up and look at the sight between her legs.

His eyes were completely closed as his mouth moved against her. What took the breath out of her lungs was the way his hips were moving frantically against the mattress, becoming more erratic as his moans increased.

Fuck, he was enjoying this.

He was enjoying her.

This was....new.

[mitsuyeaah]

misdemeanour.

— ran haitani x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), thigh riding, light bdsm (handcuffs), roleplaying (police officer!ran), mentions of alcohol use, pet names (princess)

a/n: inspired by that one ran photo that’s circulating right now. he’s so hot istg (*´꒳`*)

the loud bass of the music reverberated throughout the entire house, feeling every beat of it thumping inside your chest. you navigated through the dimly lit living room packed with sweaty intoxicated bodies, some of them moving against the music dressed in varieties of different costumes.

your friend, rindou, had hosted a costume party for his birthday. of course, as innocent as it sounded, the activities within the walls of his house were a complete contrast. It was wild to say the least. beer pong outside their lawn next to a keg stand, people doing shots at the kitchen island, couples making out somewhere private, people dancing in the living room, and more.

you were amongst the people doing some shots in the kitchen. your throat burned at the sensation of the hot liquid going down—tequila—, face scrunching at the bitter taste of the liquid poison. a round the kitchen island, there stood some of your close friends, rindou included.

there was one particular man that caught your eyes. The one standing right across you, dressed in a navy blue police officer uniform, topped with a police hat. his long two-toned hair were secured in two braids that cascaded down his chest. you noticed how the two of you seemed to always accidentally make eye contact amidst the chaos inside the kitchen. hisamethyst eyes lingering on yours a little too long before he looked elsewhere—you swore you could see a slight desperation in them. like he wanted something.

rindou had introduced the man earlier as his older brother, ran. he was indeed a gentleman, going even as far as extending his hand to shake your own.

throughout the entire time you were doing shots in the kitchen, you and ran had about more than 5 wordless exchanges through eye contact. you weren’t complaining though, he was very easy on the eyes but you just wished he approached you. “i’ll be right back! i need to go to the bathroom!” you yelled over the music, leaning over the table to let everyone know. “okay, you better hurry! we’re starting another round soon.” rindou yelled back.

you exchanged one last eye contact with ran, this time mustering up a small smile before leaving for the bathroom. you messily made your way to the bathroom, your head slightly spinning from the tequila shots. you managed to make it safely to the bathroom without tripping over anything or anyone by grabbing the walls for support.

after doing your business and washing your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your appearance—noticing how the strap of your costume had slipped off your shoulder. if you were being honest, this devil costume you had on was half-assed. only because you didn’t bother buying a new one and instead wore the only costume you already had.

you cupped your cheeks and let out a sharp exhale, feeling the burning temperature of your skin due to the amount of alcohol in your system.

you closed the bathroom door behind you but before you could even take a step, you found yourself trapped between the door and the man you’ve been eyeing all night, ran. the back of your head rubbed against the cool surface of the door as you craned your neck to look up at the tall man.

he was indeed more beautiful up close. little specks of dark purple scattered around his lavender irises. his soft pink lips looking a little too tempting. “o-oh! sorry! did you need to use the bathroom?” your breathing became uneven as you held his gaze, waiting for his answer.

he gave you a saccharine smile as he let out a soft hum that only you could hear. ran shook his head ‘no’ and leaned in closer to your ear. his scent engulfed your nose, it was sweet yet musky, just how you liked it. “you’re under arrest for a misdemeanour for being too fucking hot..”

your breath hitched. you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as his hot breath ghosted over the side of your neck, causing goosebumps. “wha—” “nuh uh.. place your hands in front of you like this.” ran jutted his hands out between you two, both his hands securely intertwined with one another.

doing so, ran skilfully secured your wrists together using the metal cuffs that hung from his belt loop. you slightly shivered at the cool sensation of it against your burning skin. before you could do anything, ran hooked a thumb on the chain that connected the cuffs and tugged your wrists above your head.

your hands were now bound over your head, resting against the door behind you. with one hand securely locking your hands above you, his free hand grabbed the baton, the tip of it resting below your chin to jut your face upwards.

“you think you can just walk around my house looking this delicious?”

you rubbed your thighs against one another, yearning for some kind of friction as you looked into his eyes. the desperation in his amethyst eyes mirrored your own.

ran noticed this and clicked his tongue. he swiftly pushed your feet apart to spread your legs and tucked his knee right at the apex of it, just where you wanted him. your breathing became erratic, your head spun at his strong scent, and you were wet.

how embarrassing, he hasn’t even done anything to you yet.

“sorry..” that was all you could mutter. at this point, your mind was going absolutely crazy, you partially blamed the alcohol for it. ran clicked his tongue once again, “you’re going to have to do better than that.. princess.” his lips ghosted over the side of your neck, tongue casually darting out to give a few kitten licks here and there.

you let out a shaky moan, not caring if the two of you got caught. no one probably even cared, they were all too wasted to do so.

ran chuckled against your soft skin, this time his lips fully making contact with it—brazenly sucking and licking at it, pulling more sounds from you. he absolutely loved how you responded to his mouth. a loud whine escaped your lips as he started grinding his knee against your clothed clit, skilfully moving it to increase your pleasure.

“oh fuck! aah—ran!”

you couldn’t help but move your hips against his leg. you wanted more. ran chucked his baton away and opted for using his hand to hold your chin up—his lips trailing wet, hot kisses toward your own. you almost melted right then and there at the sensation of his soft lips against yours, moaning at how desperately it moved.

ran didn’t shy from shoving his tongue in your mouth and moaning against it. fuck, it was filthy but it was so hot.

your knees buckled at this, a funny feeling running up your legs as ran keenly explored your mouth. good thing his leg was somewhat supporting you, if not, you were sure you would’ve fell to the floor.

everything was a haze. your mind spun, heart racing, ears muffling out the loud music, you were only focused on one person. ran haitani. as if reading your mind, ran finally let go of your wrists, the burning sensation in your arms dissipating as you dropped them back down. although, they were still bound together due to the handcuffs.

you grabbed onto the collar of his costume to keep yourself grounded, gripping the fabric in your hands until your knuckles turned white. ran pulled away to catch his breath, chuckling breathlessly at the way you craned your neck forward, chasing the presence of his lips.

“mmm, be a good girl and keep fucking yourself on my leg, princess.” ran groaned, cupping your warm cheeks to meet your gaze. you looked up at him as your eyes brimmed with tears, brows furrowed in pleasure as your clit rubbed against the fabric of your panties.

you desperately rut your hips, chasing the high that seemed impossible to obtain. “ngh! ran please..” you buried your face on his chest, whining. it was unsatisfying. every time you thought you were close, the pleasure suddenly disappeared and you had to start from the bottom again. it was your first time riding someone’s thigh and it frustrated you that you couldn’t reach your high.

“should i help my princess out?” he raised a brow, placing both his hands on your hips. ran bounced his leg and grounded your hips on his thigh, guiding it back and forth. you moaned against his chest at the sensation. the pleasure you felt from this was much greater, your clothed clit deliciously rubbing against his leg.

your whole body was slumped against ran. limp, helpless and at his very mercy. you weren’t even moving your hips anymore, ran took full control of it’s movement. he rested his chin at the top of your head, hands still carefully guiding your hips against his bouncing leg. “ngh—ah! shit..” tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks as you shut your eyes closed.

you were so fucking close.

“that’s it, princess. you can do it..” you panted heavily as your sweaty forehead rested on his collarbone. you could feel the familiar bubbling at the pit of your stomach and the way ever single muscle in your body tightened.

ran noticed the change in your breathing, frequent short whines that ended in a small moan escaped your lips. “fuck, look at me when you cum.” with the energy left in your body, you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him through your lashes—tears obstructing your view.

he cursed under his breath and brought a hand up, cupping your cheek and shoving his thumb in your mouth. you didn’t need to be instructed what to do, you swirled your tongue around his slender digit. moaning against the finger and you desperately sucked on it.

“such a naughty girl.. why don’t you cum for me? hm?”

you absentmindedly nodded at his command, your face contorting in pleasure as the knot inside your stomach finally snapped. ran removed his finger from your mouth and sealed the distance between the two of you, swallowing your moans.

your muscles stiffened and your eyes rolled back as you came, your fingers becoming sore form gripping at ran’s collar. ran didn’t stop moving your hips against his bouncing leg to ride out your orgasm.

fuck, you melted like wax against him. it was too good. ran shamelessly moaned into your mouth, mirroring the way you did to his own. several tears rolled down your cheeks as your cunt quivered in pleasure. you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath, your panties soaked and uncomfortably stuck to you.

“fuck..” you panted

“mhm, don’t think i’m done with you yet, princess. let’s go take some shots for now.” he kissed your forehead and untucked his leg from underneath you, earning a slight whine from you.

“careful, princess, you might get charged more than a misdemeanour. the punishment is much more severe.” he leaned into your ear and kissed at the sensitive spot just below it before heading over to the kitchen.

© mitsuyeaah

[hopefulidiocy]

My Toy

Professor!LupinxStudent!Reader

WARNINGS: this is simply smut with no plot. Rough sex, praise kink, degradation, slapping, overstimulation, daddy kink, oral (M receiving) and probs more but please note that this smut is simply unforgiving.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT‼️ 18+ ONLY‼️

~

Today was your six month anniversary and you had nothing planned, Remus just wanted a quiet night in his office with dinner but you simply couldn’t agree. So you came up with your own plan; to suck him off in the classroom. You thought yourself a genius when you came up with it last night and with one tequila shot, you could do this with every ounce of confidence you had. You stared at yourself in the mirror, his favourite black lingerie where your ass is fully showing with the skimpy g string and your boobs rose to your neck almost; he loved this set on you and especially loved you to dance in it. You hand your hand down your toned abdomen, allowing yourself to think of the pleasure you’ll be getting; but the first half was all about him.

Every time you got freaky, he would take his sweet time with you. He would caress your body like it was a work of art and the way his tongue licks stripes up and down your heat simply makes you flutter with horniness. You wanted it. But you also wanted to take the time with him because he fucking deserved it. You very rarely give him head, mainly because he just wants to bury himself inside you at any given moment and make you come several times before you had to tap out.

Your Gryffindor robe hung perfectly around you, you tightened it around you so not an ounce of you could be seen. Making your way out, you lose yourself in a crowd who were making their way to their respective classes; you knew that Remus didn’t have a class until ten minutes and it was your own class, you had said to your friends that you were too sick to go but would study in the library. Softly, you open the door to see Remus reading with his feet perched on his desk, he was so engrossed in it that you felt bad for distracting him. You closed the door so he would look up.

“You’re early, sweetie.” He closed his book, setting it in the drawer of his desk. Removing his feet, he stalked towards you with affection filled eyes. He pulled you to him, kissing your cheek and embracing you. Softly, you planted your hands on his chest and pushed him away.

“I’m not here for class, Professor.” You said, seductively, your hand wandering from his chest to his pelvis; his eyes filled with darkness.

“Then what are you here for?” He growled, watching your hand go lower. You didn’t answer him, instead your hand placed pressure on his crotch, making it grow as his cock hardened under your soft touch; it made you hot, how horny you could get him by simply touching him. You couldn’t ignore the heat that was igniting you. So you slowly removed your hand to your robe, grabbing it and opening it, letting him see his favourite lingerie. He let go a low, deep whistle; taking your hand and making you twirl so he could see your ass; he gave it a pinch. “I wish I could postpone this fucking class.” He groaned, palming himself.

“Happy Anniversary, baby.” You approached him slowly like he’s prey, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him, using your tongue to lick his bottom lip, your hands on his chest. You pushed him towards his desk, making him sit there and before the class would fill, you sat in his lap to give him a light pink love bite on his neck; he hissed in delight.

“Your class is coming in soon and I’ll be under your desk.” You said, as you moved under there and he wanted to say something but the class barged in.

“Morning, sir!” Chirping coming from the door as you watched him under your eyelashes, you weren’t going to touch him yet, let him have that anticipation; waiting until the class went silent.

Lupin stayed sitting so his hard on wouldn’t be seen by the class, his breath hitched harshly as your palm began running gently, like a whisper, up his calf onto his thigh. You painted pictures with your light fingertips over the mass of his thigh, watching him as he struggled over his words. Slowly, painfully, you travelled to his zipper; silently pulling it down and his cock strained to be released. You never will get over just how big it was, it was the size of your forearm; every time he buried it inside of you, you would have to lie there, waiting for your walls to accommodate. His cock jumped out, greeting you with pre cum squirting out, you smiled and your hand wrapped around it. Your hand worked it, up and down as softly as you could to make him struggle. He bucked his hips, making your hand go faster, you could smell the beauty of it and your mouth watered so you took your lips to the tip of his cock. He groaned but covered it with a cough. Slowly, agonisingly, you took him all in; slightly hitting the edge of your teeth as he hits the back of your throat, you gagged and relished in the sound of your lips around his cock. His hand found your hair, gripping it hard, almost making you bang against the wood; but you stuck to your word and bobbed your head up and down as quickly as you could, making it harder and harder for his to resist moaning, it made you so wet.

You sunk your mouth so it would hit the back, making you gag but you stayed there with his cock pulsing at the back of your throat, you tasted his precum slipping down your throat and you muffled a moan and sucked harder.

“C-Class dismissed!” He couldn’t take it any longer and called off the class, claiming they weren’t needed in the classroom for the rest of their studying. Once the last student left, he stared down at you with black eyes, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling it, to make you look at him with his cock so beautifully fitting in your mouth. He angled himself so the head poked out through your cheek and he brought his hand back, slapping your cheek as hard as he could.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled, slapping again; tears welled up but you took it like a good girl. He slapped you harder and laughed. “Look at you, a mess and I haven’t even touched you.” He mocked, you scowled at him and flicked your tongue to his most sensitive area, making him moan and buck his hips upwards. His fist tightened, pulling his cock from you and you almost groaned from the ache of your jaw; he screeched his chair back, his hand still buried in your hair. He pulled you from your knees, slapping your ass as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walked up the stairs, kissing you and planting a midnight sky across the front of your neck over your collarbone. He slammed the door behind you, throwing you roughly on his couch and landing on you, his lips and teeth still making a portrait on your skin. You arched your back, moaning loudly, he pushed you down, keeping his hand on your stomach as he pulled away.

“You look fucking beautiful.” He whispered. “I’m not taking this off, I want to ruin you.” He harshly pulled your panties to the side, revealing your glistening pussy that created a slight wet patch on the couch. He growled, shoving two fingers inside of you; you arched your body upwards, your tits in his face. His fingers curled on your g spot, you moaned loudly, closing your eyes but he grabbed your neck harshly - it hurt more because of the sensitivities of your bruises. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. Be a good girl.” He said, moving his hand in and out of you, making you squirm under his pressured hand squeezing around your neck.

“Fuck me.” You managed to whisper, he laughed mockingly in your face.

“Your wish is my command, beautiful girl.” He removed his fingers, your core instantly cold and aching for more. He pumped his cock, staring at you before shoving it inside. Normally, you would take a moment to accommodate but he didn’t let you, he pushed your legs to your shoulders, giving him more room and strength to fuck you. His hips came down like a hammer, he wasn’t picking up his pace and instead simply pulled half way out slowly and slammed his hips down, hitting your aching g spot as it threatened let go all over him.

“Please, faster.” You begged, crying almost to let go. His hand removed from your neck, he softly caressed your face contradicting his quickening pace. Instead of hammering down onto your quivering body, he began to level up faster, making you cry out in absolute bliss and serenity. His hips slapped quickly onto yours, as he grunted and groaned, hiding them in your neck; he bit down as hard as he could as you let everything go all over him. He knew you had reached your high, but he didn’t stop, instead in one swift movement he picked you up and hung you against the bookcase. Your back pressed up to the classic romances, you bounced in his arms, his cock hitting every beautiful note; you didn’t even care that some of the books were clattering to the ground. He drilled, faster and harder, as you wrapped yourself around him, scared that he might stop. Your lewd body from a just a doll in his arms, so tiny and soft, being destroyed for his own pleasure; you loved every second of it. The slapping of skin filled the room and you danced with the sound, his hands firmly on your ass as he hit upwards, making your g spot sore and tired; but you didn’t care.

“So good to me.” He grunted. “Your pussy belongs to me, you belong to me.” He bit into your neck again, making you cry out in pain that was overwhelmed with pleasure. You contracted around him, your toes curling as you unleashed everything onto him; he moaned in delight as he pushed you into another position on his desk. Your cheek pressed hard into the wood, the smell of chocolate, tea and sex got you even hornier as he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow. His large hand pressed on your face, so you were squeezed on the desk. “Look at you, in that pretty lingerie, getting fucked, you’re so sweet the way you look at me with those eyes whilst I destroy you.” He mocked, pounding even harder. You started seeing stars, your eyes rolling back and your throat sore; you let him have his way as you dived into a world of satisfaction, no moans or words could describe this moment between the two of you. “Can you not speak, pretty girl?” He pouted, pulling your hair and rising you roughly so your back was against his chest; your eyes still rolled at the back of your head. His fingers splayed over your exposed throat, your hair sweating as he whispered. “Do you like it when I fuck that tight cunt of yours?” You wanted to scream yes, you wanted the whole world to know that you belonged with him and you loved being used like a useless toy in his office. But your throat couldn’t make any useful sound so your mouth just lolled open, basking in the glory. His hand removed from your throat, he slapped your cheek harshly. “Answer me, princess.” He got faster as you tried to breathe and get to grips of yourself, his other hand travelling to your bruised clit; rubbing it in perfect circles, making it so much harder to talk.

“Y-Yes.” You managed to squeak, but he wasn’t happy and landed another slap to your face, his hips still bucking at a gods speed. “Yes, daddy. I love it when…. When… you fuck me, I love it!” You ended up screaming towards the end, eager to get it out and he chuckled darkly as his movements began falling. Close to his edge, his imprinted himself onto you with his mouth and shook with agonising pleasure as he painted your walls. He groaned loudly, pulling out and you simply collapsed onto your knees; a stupid, shaking mess. You managed to look up at him, his eyes were black with pleasure and he smiled sweetly as he saw you curled up by his feet. He sat in his chair, patting the space between his legs for you to sit. You squirmed into the space, he kissed your jawline softly.

“How many times did you come, baby?” He breathed.

“Twice.” You were still shaking but oozing with heat.

“Well that just won’t do.” He tutted, his hands opening your legs so your feet were on both of his knees. “Do I have your consent to play with that pretty pussy?” You could’ve come right then and there with his beautiful voice and beautiful question.

“Please play with me.” You moaned, rocking your head on his shoulder as his hand travelled to your pulsing clit. With his middle finger he massaged you in circles, keeping his focus right on your clit, making you moan and moan until you became hoarse. His hand moved slowly, he kissed each and every one of your love bites so lovingly that you could’ve cried but the pleasure from his hand suddenly unleashed onto him. Creating a pretty picture all over his chair and hand. He laughed affectionately and kissed your cheeks.

“I’ve got you baby.” He moved your legs so you were simply draped over him, you breathed as slowly and as measurably as you could as he soothed you with his hand stroking your hair. “You did so well for me baby.” He kissed your lips softly, the way he always did and kept you in his arms until you fell asleep, safe and secured.

[littlemissfiore]

Plan Failed!

prompt: your crush starts dating someone else. in a vain attempt to catch their attention, you device a plan with your friend to make them jealous. although, it seems your plan has failed, now it's up to your friends to pick up the pieces.

pairing: monster trio + usopp x gn!reader [modern au] [college au]

note: i was bored lmao (this is unedited)

Monkey D. Luffy:

"Let's just get something to eat! I'm getting hungry!" whined Luffy. You sent a glare his way, hoping he wasn't blowing your cover.

Luffy stared at you unamused, watching you look over at your crush flirt with someone else. He was getting tired of your antics, you were letting him starve just so you can ogle at your crush.

Luffy knew about your plan and was more than willing to help. The plan was simple, right? Make your crush jealous by having them think you're making moves on Luffy. Then, once they realize what they are missing out on, you and your crush date and Luffy gets to go his own way.

If only it was as simple as Luffy made it out to be. This little scheme of yours was lasting a little too long. Your crush never paid attention to you, and when he did, it was half-assed. Only asking for the answers to the homework or if you could help them work out a question on an assignment in class.

You always seemed to take these interactions as a victory, but not even Luffy is this dense. He was well aware your crush did not reciprocate your feelings but you would refuse to listen to him.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about romance!" you yelled at him, your face growing hot with embarrassment.

Luffy? Not knowing about romance? Of course he knew what it was. Two people like each other, go on dates and kiss, it was simple, right?

Luffy sometimes wanted to kiss you, was that romance? You two were already going on-unofficial-dates and hanging around each other more than usual.

The both of you were always together one way or another. You would invite Luffy out for lunch after class. He would stay in campus at night, waiting for you to finish your night classes. You were both in the same friend group. Luffy already knew what you liked and disliked; hell, he's met your family before that bonehead had the chance to.

What did that meathead have that was so special about them? Unlike them, Luffy would do his homework, even if the answers were wrong. He would never ask you for the answers, instead choosing to spend quality time with you teaching him the material outside of class.

Plus, Luffy liked you. You didn't need a convoluted plan to catch his attention, you already had it.

You let out a defeated sigh, "This plan isn't gonna work is it?" you asked, looking for confirmation.

"Nope!" Luffy said bluntly.

Even though his response hurt you, you knew Luffy was just being honest with you. It was a trait you admired in him, it was much better than having him feed into your delusions.

Luffy noticed a shift in your behavior now becoming a sad one. Coming to the realization that your crush did not reciprocate the same feelings you had. You were planning on going home and crying your heart out, it felt like the only thing to do. Although, Luffy had other plans. He grabbed you by the hand, leading you away from campus.

"W-where are you taking me?" you stuttered, tryin to keep up with Luffy's pace.

He only turn to look at you, giving you that wide grin you absolutely adored. "I'm taking you out to eat, my treat!" was the only thing Luffy responded with.

You felt warm inside knowing that Luffy was doing his best to try and make you feel better. Maybe it was for the best your crush didn't reciprocate your feelings. Why?

Because you felt yourself becoming flustered at the realization that Luffy has been holding your hand the entire walk to the restaurant.

Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro watched you mop around in your seat, watching your crush flirt with another person. Even with all the efforts you and Zoro went through to get your crush jealous all ended up in failures. Zoro was not one to shy you away from the truth, he told you in the beginning this plan was not going to work.

Now, here you were, trying to drink your pain away. Zoro was the last person you'd imagine to tell someone to stop drinking. Although, this was different, you looked pathetic being all mopey over some dumbass.

Zoro didn't understand you at all. How can you be sad over that piece of shit? If you asked him, he wasn't even worth your time. Actually, don't ask him that, Zoro would never admit it. He was too stubborn to tell you anything other than "I told you so".

It was a bad idea to come to this party, it was supposed to be fun but you were having an awful time. Zoro could be out enjoying his time drinking with his friends, but he choose to stay by your side instead.

"You know you're not obligated to stay with me, right?" you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "You can be with your friends..."

Zoro would've ignored your comment but he was surprised you were crying. Are you seriously crying over your crush? Somebody who could care less about your feelings? That guy didn't even know you were in the same class as him.

"S-stop crying!" exclaimed Zoro. He didn't know how to deal with emotional people, especially when they were crying.

"But it hurts!" you cried, rubbing your tears away.

Zoro felt anger running through his veins, aggravated by the thought of you crying over that jackass. Stop crying, thought Zoro. Why were you crying over your crush when you had Zoro right there.

"You need to get over it!" spat Zoro, his words coming out rather harshly. He didn't mean to make you feel worse, but he was not going to hide you from the truth. "That jackass is over there making out with someone else and you're here moping like if he even knew you!"

You felt crushed but Zoro continued, "Know your worth! Realize just how cool you are, you were willing to let a loser like him be your boyfriend? Toughen up and find someone who will actually give a shit about you like I do!"

Zoro realized the words that had just come out of his mouth. Did he just give you a borderline confession? No, there was no way Zoro had any feelings for his friend.

Zoro saw how you became flustered, "Don't take that in a weird way!" he was quick to add before downing his beer.

Zoro tried his best to ignore the situation that unfolded. Where did that all come from? There was no way those fake dates and hand holding could've made him fall for you. It wasn't real, it was all an attempt to make your crush jealous; but, Zoro couldn't deny that he felt a little warm on the inside when he thought about being official with you.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

You were mindlessly going through Sanji's TV, looking for something to watch and ease your brain. At first, Sanji was surprised when you showed up to his house unannounced with a somber expression. You told him you would be with your crush on a so called "study date". It wasn't a real date but you thought it was a step closer to victory to name it one.

"The study session was cancelled," you muttered, dropping yourself on Sanji's couch. "Said he couldn't make it and then I saw him making out with someone else in another part of campus. Amazing, right?"

You looked miserable, your eyes were red and puffy. You had been crying as you made your way to Sanji's house.

Sanji wasted no time comforting, "Let me make you something to eat, hopefully you'll feel a lot better," he said, heading to the kitchen.

Sanji couldn't understand how someone could do that to you. You were cute, passionate and smart, traits Sanji admired since the first time you two met in class. He wished he got to have half the attention that you gave to your crush.

Sanji was already aware of his growing feelings for you but he choose to keep quiet. Before he had known he grew so fond of you, Sanji had already agreed to your plan. Others would call it a bad decision on his end, you would hold his hand and take him on 'dates'. It didn't make his situation any better, seeing how he fell even harder

Yet, Sanji would refuse to tell you about his feelings. You had your eyes on somebody else and he respected your decision, even if it would hurt him.

"Here you go," Sanji laid the plate in front of you. "Don't cry too much while eating, it'll make it taste saltier."

You have him a tired giggle but it was immediately replaced with a sad expression. Sanji knew what had happened earlier hurt you a lot.

"Sanji..." you started, snapping Sanji out of his daze. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"W-what?" Sanji was baffled by your question.

You looked ashamed of yourself but you repeated your question. "Do you think I'm beautiful...?"

What kind of question is that? Does Sanji think you're beautiful? Beautiful is just one of the many words he would use to describe how you look to him. He could spend hours writing letters on your beauty alone, of course you were pretty. How could Sanji explain to you how fast his heart beats every time he sees you? How he wished you looked at him with the same adoration you look at your crush.

Sanji knew he would be crossing his boundaries, but he felt you needed to know. He cupped both of your cheeks, giving you a compassionate look. You felt yourself becoming flustered with how intimate his touch felt.

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes upon, darling," said Sanji.

He truly meant it. All those fake dates would pale in comparison to what he could truly offer you. You felt yourself lean in closer to Sanji, closing the gap between your lips and his.

If you let him, Sanji would make you the happiest person on earth.

Usopp:

"What if we egg his house?" suggested Usopp.

Curse him and his mouth, now you were adamant in putting his idea to work. Usopp didn't have this feeling when he was hyping you up and while both of you walked to your crush's house. Now that he was physically there, Usopp could feel his legs shaking, he wanted nothing more than to run to the hills.

"Are you ready!?" you exclaimed with eggs already in your hands. "Here!"

You handed Usopp the eggs so he could join you. Even though it was dark and nobody could see you, Usopp was scared. He felt like the police was watching the both of you, ready to arrest you. He didn't know why he would ever come up with this idea. If he was being honest, Usopp thought you would reject it, opting instead in taking the high road.

"Yes, that's a perfect idea!" you exclaimed, getting your sweater.

Usopp saw how awful you felt after being ditched by your crush who asked you out on a 'date". He felt happy for you that the plan worked but also crushed. It meant you would no longer be able to hang out with him like you used to. You wouldn't be able to hold his hand or invite him out to places. Instead of being 'dating' Usopp, you'd be dating your crush.

When he saw you down in the dumps, Usopp felt rage. You tried so hard to get your crush's attention just so he could blow you off? Usopp would trade places with your crush if he could, he was insane.

What was even more insane was the fact that you were ready to throw the first egg.

"Wait!" whispered Usopp, looking around nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

You frowned, "Usopp, this man ditched me, giving me false hope!" you didn't hesitate to throw the egg which landed on the window. "If you ask me, he deserves it!"

You're right. He does deserve it. He deserves it for making you cry, for giving you false hope, but most importantly, for ruining his chances with you. Usopp could feel his legs shaking but he decided to ignore the nervous feeling pooling inside his stomach. He took a deep breathe and threw the egg and it landed on his roof.

"Woo-!"

You covered Usopp's mouth to try and not draw attention, but both of you started giggling. The both of you continued to throw eggs, almost finishing the carton of eggs. Before you could throw the last two eggs, the lights inside your crush's house turned on.

"Who is that!" you can hear their yelling from the inside even though it's muffled.

Usopp did not hesitate to grab your hand, sprinting away from the premises. You were stumbling a little, trying to catch up to his speed but you were trying to hold in your laughter. You two were this close to getting caught, but to Usopp it was worth it. You were smiling and having fun, it always made his day when you were happy. If only he would be able to confess to you. He was a coward, constantly needing hype from his friends to even try and think of confessing to you.

But maybe one day, Usopp would gain enough courage to confess to you and ask you out on a proper date instead of a fake one.

[prncessjaeger]

i changed my mind 🎀

the day you met suguru was the day you wished you should’ve ignored him, but who could ignore the way you both instantly clicked despite the main difference between you two, him being the best friend of the golden boy aka satoru gojo, having everyone wrapped around his finger, and you being the girl who’s well… not very well known and coined the term, “never out pass 8.”

but suguru didn’t care, infact he seemed like he loved how polar opposites you both were, and you could tell by the way he’d compliment you, the rushed feeling he gives you when he kisses you, the ongoing lavish dates he takes you on, it was all perfect. 

too perfect, infact. he treated you so well you could only see the good in him and that’s when the problems began. kissing his lips, you felt his arms circle your waist pulling you even closer. your hips grinded against his half-hardened dick, when you both were interrupted with yet another text from his phone. you felt him pull away, “noo sugu-” “give me a sec…damn,” he mumbled reading the content on his phone, “i..got to go,” “again?” your groaned, hopping off his lap feeling unsatisfied yet again and sighed when he mentioned there was another party he was invited to, “look ‘sugu, i trust you but it’s kinda hard to keep that trust when you’re partying every night with all those girls-”

“it’s always about the “partying”, good gosh, you jealous of them or something?” your face scrunched up in confusion, “uh no why would i be jealous of a party? i’m talking about you always leaving and going out to party?” he huffed and got up from his seat, “baby it’s college! who wouldn’t wanna go out and party?” “so you’d rather go out than be with your girlfriend?” he pushed your finger away when you pointed at him, “don’t start, besides you must wanna come with me or something?” you looked at the time, 7:37 p.m, then all the books and papers you had to finish studying, “why would would love to, but it’s getting late, and you know i have to-” “study. why can’t you brush it off for once and hang out with me, huh? you always blow me off for some dumn ass studying,” he murmured the last part but you heard him pretty clear. “okay, fine we can go-”

“nah, i’ll go with kara and shoko instead, you focus on your 'studying'…” your head jerked back, wondering who the hell “kara” was, “ suguru i said we can go, studying can wait-” “nope. see you tomorrow.” he grabbed his jacket and keys and left your apartment in a swift, not even kissing your cheek like usually does. not feeling the want to do anything school related anymore, you closed your books and watched youtube until your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.

the second time it happened, you both were at a prestigious dinner with all your friends when suguru abruptly left your side and left the restaurant, and shoko took notice, asking “where did geto go?” “umm that’s a great question, i’ll call him.” you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, frowning when it went voicemail. you called and called but to no avail he didn’t answer, “must be an emergency, so i’ll just send him a text, anyways how was vegas?” “oh it was amazing, we visited sooo many hotels and shows…” you casually listened to her story while checking your phone, only to be met with setting notifications and it honestly started to worry you. so, you ended up leaving the dinner early, catching a cab home only to be met with suguru himself standing at your doorstep, looking disheveled and marked up, “hey! where did you run off? are you okay? did something bad happen??-” you were cut off with your name falling from his lips sternly, “i’m fine. can i just come in and change my clothes?” feeling a weird vibe coming from him, you let your hands drop from his blazer, “sure.” you let him in, smelling a weird smell coming from his suit, “new cologne? it smells… fruity?” “nah, it’s probably your cheap perfume you like to wear,” you walked to him and watched him act unfazed, and you went to sniff his shoulder confirming that the smell came from him, “but... you smell like mangoes, suguru , and you know i hate mangoes- are you cheating on me?”

“oh my god! look, i went to-” “where! where’d you go hm, “kara’s house”,” you watched his hold his head in his hands and sigh, “no, i went to my aunt’s for a family emergency, and she hugged me…” he gave you a perplexed look, rolled his eyes and walked away to the bathroom. feeling guilty, you texted your friend, shoko, to see if you were just overeacting on the possibility of him cheating on you, but she ended up sending you a long voice note about how “suguru’s not shit” and “you deserve better,” and ended it with a detailed plan on how to leave him…

…but instead you brushed it off once more and let him cuddle you that night, forgiving him yet , again. 

the third time was the final straw. 

since it was the week off for break, everyone decided to go to the beach for a much-needed vacation away from school and ever since suguru helped bring your bags down to where you were sitting, you haven’t seen him since. satoru walked up to you and sighed, “hey! how’s you and suguru?” “oh!- we’re uh, doing fine…why?” he grabbed your drink from your hand, “just asking, you both seem a little distant compared to before,” hearing those words had you in deep thought, depicting every single interaction you and suguru had to prove satoru’s statement, “um, well he has been a little off with me?” “how so?” “just brushing me off, leaving abruptly, things like that.” satoru looked back to where suguru was, eyes widening when he saw him with a familiar tall blonde chatting it up at the beach bar, so he moved to be directly in front of you hoping you couldn’t see him, "what’re you doing?” “nothing, the sun was in my eyes so i moved to see you better,” squinting your eyes, you hummed and asked, “anyways, where’s sugu? you seen him yet?” he furrowed his brows, “oh i don’t know, i figured he was over here, that’s actually why i came over here but when i didn’t see him, i just talked to you instead-” when satoru’s nervous, he likes to ramble and spew out useless information.

a trait everyone knew satoru had. 

“satoru…where is he?” you saw him rub his neck bashfully and sigh, “look i only found out just minutes ago when i looked back at him and-”

“found out what?” you asked but you went unheard by satoru, “- and i’d hate for you to find out this way, that would suck cause-” “find out what, what way?” “-cause you’re a really sweet girl but i just think you aren’t the…right one for him. i mean he’s so caught up-” “what?” “he barely shows you love-” “satoru! if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and stop talking over me?” satoru sighed and mumbled, “i’m sorry,” and moved to the side, revealing suguru and some tall blonde girl close together, watching him feed her…grapes? giggling with her- kissed her much more passionately than he’s ever kissed you “the fuck?” 

like any normal person, you’d go over and probably curse him out, hit him a couple of times and leave him with breaking off the relationship, but instead you sighed and nodded, “you know what? i’m gonna go home and i’ll…see you later.” you packed up your towel and left in your car, suguru hearing your car speed down the highway, then turned to see your spot now being crowded by the others on the trip wondering where you’d drive off to.

“shit…” he muttered, the girl watched him sigh in his hands, “everything okay?”

“everything’s perfect, hey why don’t we uh, get out of here yeah?” hearing a small “yeah” the two got up and walked back to her car, and when satoru walked to the bar to confront suguru, he was now where to be seen…

…now, months have passed and you and suguru have barely spoken to each other by this point. even though you both officially never ended the relationship, he barely acknowledged you nowadays and stopped coming over, but you decided to not let it phase you and instead you focused on yourself, entering your “healed girl era” or whatever the coined term was. 

since the…"split", you and satoru have gotten closer especially after he stopped being friends with suguru days after his amidst cheating, (he ended up staying by your side and even helped you out of your funk), and today he invited you to a party. 

ironic, considering parties were the main problem in your past relationship, but you needed a change of scenery. being a nursing major was tough and sitting in your apartment all cooped up with billions of textbooks, you were tired! so, you went to your closet and picked out a cute top with a skirt to match, grabbing your fur boots and jewlery to complete the look. once you finished your makeup, you heard the doorbell ring and a set of keys jiggle, jumping when satoru’s loud voice echoed in your room, “y/nnnn!” “toruuuu!” “hey bestie-oh you look real cute, give me a spin hm?” he grabbed your hamd and spun your around, “okay so good news, i’m here bad news, the party’s in suguru’s house and it’s more of a get-together rather a party.” “hm…” you hummed, "i mean we don't have to go if you don't want to?" you grabbed your purse anyway and walked to the door, “but what if i still wanna go though?” “well let’s go!” he drove fairly quick considering suguru only lived 3 minutes away from you, and when you arrived you noticed the other couple of cars. you and satoru got out, him holding the drinks and your purse and knocked on the door, shrieks coming from shoko when she saw you, “it’s my babyyyyy!”

suguru turned his head hearing shoko’s claim and immediately knew it was you. his nerves skyrocketed and he sighed nervously, “hey everything alright?” the blonde he now dates, yuki, asked as she massaged his scalp, “yeah…she’s here,” “oh! uh, okay. don’t be nervous i’m sure she’d come around…” soon yuki would eat her words the minute you walked in the room, greeting everyone except the two. “ugh i’m so happy you’re here, i’ve missed you-gojo’s taking you away from us all the time now,” shoko complained as she hugged your figure, hasn’t let go of you since she saw you at the door. 

suguru noticed how you looked more comfortable, relaxed even with satoru which was odd considering any other time you wouldn’t pay him no mind, and with shoko’s claim of satoru “taking you away” he wondered just how close you two were becoming. 

after many, many drinks and games later, you excused yourself to the bathroom and after five minutes, suguru followed you up, satoru and shoko taking notice of it. drying your hands, you opened the door only to be met with suguru himself, “what’re you doing-” “you fucking him now? you’re such a slut you’d fuck my best friend next? and we haven’t even broken up-” “we were broken up the minute you put your lips on yuki! and you know that, so don’t come up here fucking accusing and yelling at me like i’m stupid! the fuck,” you watched him step closer to you, causing you to step back into a wall, “i still love you, you know that right?” “but i don’t love you,” suguru chuckled and rubbed his hand over his mouth, “you sure about that? just months ago you were telling me how much you wanted to get married and have my babies, remember?” he leaned down as his lips hovered over yours, “not anymore geto, i’ve changed my mind-” “ohhh so it's geto now? besides, it felt like you were determined before,”

“you just wasted my time geto, so move.” you shoved him out the way, feeling his hand grab your wrist, “baby, come back i missed you, we can do all the things you want if you just come back, i’ll be better for you i swear…” you heard him plead and please, over and over again but in the end it doesn't matter how many apologies he can spew out, like before and always,

you'll go right back to him…

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bateman Begins Part 43

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: I’m aiming to have 2-3 more chapters before wrapping this up.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: M

"You're late."

You are. That had not been the plan.

In fact, for most of the evening, nothing has gone to plan.

The modulator had been such a finicky little fucker to get right.

You had spent so much time fiddling with it to nail Nathan's pitch and timbre.

His tone and pace, that was down to you to get right.

The kevlar had also been more difficult to manipulate than you'd anticipated.

It's lighter and more flexible, just like you wanted, but conforming it to your body and needs is so foreign to you.

And after all of the time that you had taken to get the voice box right—

It doesn't matter.

You're finally there, hugging to the shadows as you eye. Commissioner Jim Gordon standing at the other end of the roof.

You've seen him on the news all day, and you'd had some inkling that Nathan was working with the cops while you'd both been in Gotham.

"I've got questions," Gordon takes a step closer, and it's a fight not to just turn and run.

Instead you tip your chin up, the night splitting with Nathan's voice: "I came here for answers. You said your information was too sensitive to send."

"Where the hell have you been?"

And isn't that the million dollar question.

"Busy."

"Look, I know we don't exactly have a solid relationship, but you can't just disappear on me like that, man. We've been drowning without you out there."

"...Information," You reiterate. "Who, where, what. Details."

Gordon shakes his head, huffing.

"You've seen this clown shit?"

"Here and there."

"Well, it's all over the fucking place."

"You said you had a lead."

"The name Jack White mean anything to you?"

Not a damn thing.

Gordon's eyes narrow at your silence before he fishes into his pocket, drawing out a USB stick.

He holds it out, and waits.

But you don't dare get any closer, not as you are. Not like this.

"...Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on with you," Gordon says after a moment, "Or with Bateman. The department's up my ass about it. Once we clear up this clown gang, if he hasn't resurfaced and if you don't volunteer that information...It's not looking good for you."

"Nothing to volunteer."

"Why were you at his manor, then?"

"...Had a tip."

"About what?"

"Can't say."

"Christ," Gordon hisses. "I thought you were a shit before. What's crawled up your ass?"

"Give me the information. I do my job, you do yours."

Gordon huffs a flat laugh, tossing the stick just enough for you to catch it.

"I'll see what I can find," You add.

"Work fast, and keep your head down. Anyone in the department catches you with that information, it's both of us on the line."

"I understand."

--

You shouldn't have taken it.

You stare at the USB drive, damning yourself as the screens flicker in front of you.

You can't look into this.

Your thing is the tech, Nathan's thing is the digging.

At least, it was until Vicki sunk her claws into—

No, no. Not now.

You know that Nathan has access to a vast array of information.

You won't go after the guy, you can just...Give Gordon some insight on his leads to get him off your back.

And then you can dig back into whatever the hell happened to Nathan.

You heave in a deep breath, straightening up with a groan.

Getting home had been hell.

You'd doubled back to make sure Gordon wasn't following you. It had taken you four times as long to get back to the mansion.

It's nearly three in the morning, and you don't have Nathan's stamina.

Alright.

You'll take a short nap, have a snack, and then get going on this.

--

"Activity report, Master Bateman."

Nathan doesn't answer right away.

It's been like this for the last week and a half—Alfred running at half-power, focusing on security tasks as Nathan tries to identify the faulty wiring that's causing the facility to lock down.

He's been running as his own skeleton crew, working at half-speed and half-power as he tries to pinpoint the problem.

Whatever it is, wherever it is, it's giving him a helluva runaround.

Every time he thinks he's got it nailed, something else rears its ugly fucking head.

And with Alfred running at diminished capacity, Nathan has narrowed his task focuses mean—namely activity reports for the properties connected to his systems.

"Go on," Nathan waves a hand before returning both to the keyboard.

"Facility occupants: two."

"Technically one," Nathan mutters.

"I take umbridge with that. Manor occupants—"

"None, I know, move on—"

"One—"

"What?" Nathan twists in his chair, brow furrowing deeply. "The fuck do you mean, one occupant in the Manor?"

"Entry, exit, kitchen, and Blue Room sensors have been triggered repeatedly."

It can't just be the police, there's no way they'd start sniffing around there after so many weeks, let alone take up residence.

It could be a wild animal that's gotten in, is enjoying having the run of the place.

"Cave sensors?"

"Triggered."

His stomach swoops.

"Why the hell didn't you start with that? How many times?"

"Nine times in the last forty-eight hours."

Nathan twists back to his laptop, minimizing his work.

"Is that the only activity for the cave?" He asks.

"The sensors have been triggered routinely for the last week."

Nathan's hands curl and flex over his keyboard, fingers beginning to tingle with nerves.

Vicki had been on his trail when he left town, but he didn't think that she'd gotten that close.

Could she have found the cave, worked out how to get in?

And if it is her, what the fuck is she doing, going down there, over and over? Taking photos? Collecting evidence?

Nathan hisses a curse as he receives an error message for the cameras at the Manor.

Son of a bitch—it can't be that the power had been shut down, or off.

If that was the case, the sensors wouldn't be working.

He considers for a few moments, eyes searching the error screen.

"Alfred."

"Sir."

"How many times have the sensors in the Blue Room been triggered?"

"In the last forty-eight hours?"

"In the last week."

"Fifty-three, sir."

Nathan's mind zips to a place it shouldn't go.

You're in Metropolis. You're in a shitty apartent with your grass-green avocados and stubbornness.

Even if you are back in Gotham...No.

Nathan shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

He's been toying with the idea of a return, first as Batman, and then as himself—an ease back into public life coupled with an excuse that things had gotten too chaotic, that he didn't plan his little break to cause such a stir.

But if someone is in his Manor, sniffing around the cave, poking around his truths—

Hell.

Nathan is going to have to get back to Gotham—the sooner, the better.

Tag list: @blueeyesatnight ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @foxilayde @danniburg ; @brandyllyn ;

@missredherring ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @ew-erin ; @xocalliexo ; @youngkenobilove ;

@chattychell ; @lorecraft  ; @thembosapphicclown ; @kmc1989

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 20 Prompt: Sick Day

Tags: Established Relationship, Mentions Of Past Parental Loss, Eddie Munson Needs A Hug, Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 1290 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve doesn’t get it.

He’s seen Eddie in worse shape.

Death knocking on his door, tubes, and machines keeping him alive. In spite of the shitty cards he was dealt, he always had a smile on his face — cracking jokes with the kids, charming his way into extra pudding cups and sides of mashed potatoes. Steve’s pretty sure they mourned the day he was finally released because he had a way of making even the crabbiest doctors smile.

If ever there was a time to be miserable and wallow in the pain it was then.

And yet, a winter cold has managed to knock Eddie on his ass, turning him into the most miserable, helpless version of himself.

Steve hates it.

Not because Eddie is whiney and dramatic (he’s both of those things on a good day), but because he doesn’t know what to do to help.

Days and nights blend together as Eddie stays sheltered in his bedroom. His bed is a nest of blankets and pillows — half the time he’s burrowed under them, no doubt making his fever worse, and the other half he’s propped up on pillows, desperately hoping the elevated position will ease his cough. A hoard of half-empty bowls of soups and napkins full of nibbled-on crackers are scattered on his nightstand along with the cold medicine Wayne picked up three (maybe, four?) days ago. The one Eddie refuses to take because it makes him feel worse.

His usual unruly curls are flattening by the second and his cheek has a near-permanent indentation of his wrinkled pillowcase at this point. If it weren’t for his frequent trips to the bathroom, Steve would be worried about muscle loss and blood clots on top of the hundred other ways he’s worrying about Eddie right now.

Steve’s tried everything. His grandmother’s chicken noodle soup, coaxing Eddie into a warm shower, even phoned Ms. Henderson to see if she had any home remedies he wasn’t thinking of. Nothing seems to be working.

At a loss, Steve tiptoes into Eddie’s room hoping to find him sleeping beneath the covers.

He’s not.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve coos. Toeing his shoes off, he pads his way over to the edge of the bed and runs a hand over the corner of the bed in search of Eddie’s legs. When he’s certain they’re not there, he sits. “What can I do to help?”

Eddie groans and presses the right side of his face deeper into the pillow. A single tear races down his cheek as he sniffles. “Could you just lie with me?” he croaks, voice horse from lack of use and the sore throat he’s been fighting for the last few days.

“Course, baby. Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He doesn’t wait for the answer and instead shuffles up the bed. Resting his back against the headboard, he kicks out his legs over the hoard of blankets and lets himself sink into the warm mattress. Once he’s situated, Eddie shifts until his back is pressed against Steve’s side. It’s weird feeling the heat that radiates from his body — he’s usually the one with cold hands and feet in the relationship.

“Didn’t want to get you sick,” Eddie mumbles eventually.

“Don’t mind getting sick, if it means you’ll feel better.” Steve means it. He would shoulder all the sickness and pain in the world if it meant that Eddie and everyone else he loves never had to feel anything but happy and healthy. If only the world worked like that. “Do you need anything?”

It’s silent in the room as Steve waits for Eddie’s response. So quiet, Steve wonders if maybe Eddie’s drifted to sleep and he’s waiting for a response that’s never going to come. But then Eddie shifts beside him, slowly rolling onto his other side so he can face him.

“I need my mom,” Eddie whispers just as the floodgates open, tear after tear falling from his eyes in that slow dramatic way they only do in movies. At least, Steve thought it only happened in movies.

His heart seizes in his chest as Eddie reaches for the soft sweater he’s wearing. Doesn’t complain when he buries his face into it, staining it with tears and snot and whatever else as Eddie’s body shakes under the weight of his tears.

Christ.

He doesn’t get it, not entirely. His own mother was never the nurturing type — she’d slap down medicine on his bedside table and leave a list of places she’d be if he needed to reach her, but that was it. Never once did she rest her hand against his forehead to check his temperature, let alone sit at his bedside.

But he knows Eddie’s mom would have done those things. Probably did do all those things judging by the way his boyfriend is sobbing in his arms right now.

Admittedly he doesn’t know much about Ms. Munson — he’s gathered it's hard for Eddie to talk about her. But he knows enough to know the world lost an incredibly kind soul way too early.

“Eds,” Steve sighs, scooting down until he’s lying down with Eddie firmly curled up on his chest. He gets both arms around him, squeezing him tighter. “I wish I could.”

“She always—” Eddie hiccups, wincing as the motion burns his already aching throat. “She always used to lie down with me. Run her fingers through my hair until her ring got caught in my curls. Then she’d move to tracing up and down my arm.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice. He lets one hand drift into Eddie’s tangled curls, scratching his scalp before gently carding his fingers through a few strands. His other hand ghosts up and down his arm, goosebumps erupting in his featherlight touches wake.

“Like this?”

Eddie melts under the contact, nuzzling deeper into the warmth of Steve’s sweater. “She made the best grilled cheese sandwich when I was sick. And she’d cut them in weird ways. Let me eat them in bed while she told some story she made up on the spot.”

“Well, m’no storyteller. But I can make a grilled cheese. Probably not as good as your mom's though.”

“No,” Eddie agrees, the smallest smile tugging at his lips as he looks up. “She had a secret ingredient she never told me.”

“Bet it was love.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, shaking his head, “That’s lame.”

“Yeah, it is. She wouldn’t have had a lame secret ingredient.”

“She was the best,” Eddie sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before they flutter open again. This time he wiggles out of Steve’s embrace and moves his head back to his pillow before grimacing at the wet stain left behind on Steve’s sweater. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Eds. S’just a sweater.”

“I know. I just…” he groans and rubs circles over his eyes with his fists. “I always miss her more when m’sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says, pulling at him until Eddie’s back on his chest and his hand is back in his curls. “You can tell me about her, you know? Whenever you want. I like hearing you talk about her.”

“Maybe when my throat doesn’t burn like Satan’s living room.”

Steve laughs.

There’s his boy.

“You know, that medicine over there might help with that,” Steve teases, gesturing to the untouched medicine.

Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust, shaking his head.

“Alright, you big baby,” Steve chuckles. “Why don’t you get some sleep then?”

“Will you stay?” Eddie asks, already fighting sleep judging by his fluttering eyelashes.

“Course I’ll stay,” he whispers. “I’ll even make you a grilled cheese when you wake up.”

“Full of love?”

“Yeah, Eds. Full of love.”

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[goodolddumbbanana]

For superhero au I just imagine Solar, Sun, and Moon all showing up to work after a night of vigilantism and messing with the two hero kids like "don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious"

Like you know it's a problem when Moon is the most rested of the three.

It's not a good night when you just break a few ribs inside your body and fall into a trash can and yet you still needs to drag your neck to work the next day.

His whole body was screaming in pain. His internal systems were beeping with error and overload notifications. And Solar hadn't even checked why his fan had been running so damn loud and hot since last night.

He just wants to go back to charge, or sleep. But cursed Fazbear because he still needs to move his ass here to work, because animatronic doesn't have a damn right.

"Oh.. hi Solar!!"

Sun's cheerful voice woke him from his gloomy thoughts. His friendly neighbors also looked tired today, with their sunbeams looking dull and not as shiny as usual. At the same time, their hands were still covered with dirt and paint from yesterday, something that if it was normal Sun, he would never let it happen.

"Yeah... Sun,hum? You look tired. Did something happen at home?"

"What?! No???"

Sun smiled anxiously. They fiddled with their sleeves, pulling them up and down again, and began to grip the bell tightly in their hands by habit.

"Why do you ask!!?"

He wanted to say that because Sun looked worse than someone who just climbed out of a trash can but then he thought... If something really serious happens, then Sun would immediately tell him. Thinking like that, Solar changed the subject.

"Have you seen Moon? I tried to find him to give him this folder, but he just disappeared in the thin air."

"Oh!! oh I know where he is!!" Sun's eyes shine sparkling as he speaks, it makes Solar smile unconscious. "He is sleeping in the fountain."

"Really? Thanks Sun." He is about to turn around, before realizing something. "Wait... Sun... What do you mean he is in the fountain? We are right near the fountain."

There was a popping sound of bubbles that Solar didn't really pay attention to until now. A finger was suddenly raised above the water, accompanied by the half-scream of a sleepy Moon face.

"Don't feed him to the fish!!! I still don't get my money yet, Monty!!!

"..."

The three of them stared at each other dumbfounded. Sun must have stiffened like a rabbit by now, for they were not used to startling things.

"oh hey Sun, Solar. Why do you look like you're just crawling out of the trashcan?"

'Because I am'. That is the answer he will not reply back. Instead, He just rolled his eyes at Moon's wet body and reached out to pull him up.

"Better question, why do you cover in water like that?"

" ... I slipped and fell. What about you?"

"...I slipped and fell too." That smugness on Moon's face makes Solar want to slap him hard.

"And what about you Sun? don't tell me you slipped and fell too?" Moon teases.

" Oh no, Jack sprayed pepper spray in my face last night."

"HE DID WHAT???!!"

[l-in-the-light]

(Mis)adventures of Law with the Strawhats [fanfiction snippet, part 3 - the final one!]

[Links to: Part 1 and Part 2]

"Alliance?" all of them ask at the same time.

"You will find out once someone actually lands on same field" Law cuts his answer short.

"What's with that half-assed effort? Admit it, you just didn't think it through yet!" Usopp accuses him, meanwhile Luffy's eyes get their spark back.

"That's the best idea ever, I can't wait to land on same field with Torao again!"

Yamato looks at the dessert in front of him, so far not even touched. Then he takes the small spoon and digs in a bit, brings it to his mouth and his eyes grow larger. "This is actually really good. So sweet!" then he looks around the table. Law turns his gaze away before their eyes can meet, but somehow Yamato still stops at him for a moment; he can tell.

"Does anyone want to try it too? I don't know why Sanji only gave it to me"

"That's because he thinks you're a lady" Usopp replies. "And no thanks, I'm good, I have lots of salty crackers now"

"I'm also good" Brook says, still sipping his tea. Is it still the very same one since they started playing, Law wonders.

"I want!" Luffy says, but Usopp stops him just in time. "Don't give it to him, he will gulp it all down in one bite. There, you have enough snacks on the table already"

"Yeah, but I would want to try that one too" Luffy says, eyeing the dessert, but seems he finally gives up and downs a full bowl of crackers instead.

"I would want to, but I think Sanji will kill me, or even cook me, if I even try to come near it" Chopper says, because he got interested since the moment Yamato declared it was something sweet.

"He won't know" Yamato assures him and gives Chopper a spoon with quite a big bite of cake on it. He smiles when Chopper quickly catches it with his mouth and a moment later some tears spill from his eyes. "So nice~!"

And finally Yamato's eyes turn to Law. "I'm good" he finally voices out, avoiding to look at the dessert or Yamato.

"Hm" Yamato muses, but seems to leave it be.

"So, how do we play it now?" Usopp asks, because they have been playing for a bit already, but Brook literally just finished the game. "Should we make Brook start over from the beginning?"

"That's cheating, he won already" Law comments.

"Right" Usopp frowns.

"Can I play two turns instead of him?" Luffy grins, but everyone quickly cuts him off with a loud "NO".

"It's kinda not nice to play without him" Yamato says, the dessert forgotten and left unfinished for now.

"Let's just start over, I wanna win!" Luffy decides and stretches his hands to gather all the pawns.

"Then I'm out" Law retorts back and Luffy's hands freeze. He quickly retreats them back.

"Torao" he says, turning to him, his brows furrowed. "Are you in a bad mood? Why do you not want to play with me anymore?"

Law looks deliberately away. Why does Luffy have to constantly act this way? With every day he reminds him more of his little sister. Why did Law had to buy this game in the first place, now he wishes he never did.

"I had to play with you like dozens of times last night, how much more do I have to play till you're actually satisfied?" He finally blurts out. Even this line sounds like something from the past in his ears.

"Every day?" Luffy attempts and Law smashes his hand on the table in reply, startling everyone.

"You can play with other people now" he snaps.

"But I want to play with you too!" Luffy cries out and reaches towards Law's hand that's still splayed on the table. The touch is brief and barely there, but takes Law by surprise and Luffy can feel him freezing up. "Sorry" he mumbles as he retreats his hand immediately, but it's too late and Law is already on his way to the door, trembling slightly. Usopp whispers "Great, now you made him angry", but Law can still hear it.

Usopp peeks at Luffy's face and he just knows he has to do something, anything to stop this. "Let's calm down, it's just a game, Luffy will soon get bored with it anyway" but it has no effect and Usopp nearly gives up at this point.

"Wait, please!" Chopper suddenly shouts. "I had a lot of fun playing together, especially when you allowed me to roll the die for you! I… I never played any board game before! So thank you! And I'm sorry if I did something bad, I'm a dummy after all, so it's probably not fun to play with me…"

That, curiously enough, made Law stop in his step.

"I also never played before. My crew did, mostly card games, but since I don't have eyes, I couldn't join them"

"Wait, you must have had eyes when you were alive" Usopp points out, despite just a second ago feeling kinda sorry for the skeleton man.

"Oh, right. Then maybe it was one of the illusions I experienced when I spent years surrounded with their dead bodies, stranded in the Florian Triangle" he muses, and like an afterthought adds "YOHOHOHOHO".

It doesn't help at all to solve the tension, Law notes in his head despite himself. He didn't sign up to hear all those tearful stories and he for sure isn't gonna share his own one.

Yamato makes a worried expression, but then nods to himself and his eyes become clear like a cloudless sky. "This is actually also my first time playing any board game. Or any game at all, really. Since I was locked alone for almost all of my life and no one was even allowed near me"

Usopp stays quiet for a bit, his brows furrowed and he stares at the table. When he finally speaks up his voice is much quieter than the others. "I lied, I actually also never played any board games before… other kids kinda avoided me in my village. I did have dices though!" he doesn't add that he actually just picked them up from the ground after other kids most likely lost it.

"I kept them, because I thought it was a mysterious object lost by the nomadic tribe of Spotted People. Everyone knows about Spotted People, they're the ones responsible for drawings dots on everything, like skirts. They draw dots on everything that belongs to them, so if you see any dotted objects you know it means one of Spotted People was passing by. Those squares looked kinda important, so I kept the dices for them just in case The Spotted Tribe would cross this path again, searching for it."

"That's so nice of you!" Chopper says, wiping a tear with his hoof. No one comments that the Spotted Tribe doesn't exist in reality, so neither does Law.

Luffy looks at his crewmates expressionlessly, and Usopp has to actually nudge him and whisper to share his story as well. Luffy just keeps staring, but when Usopp points towards quiet Law still standing near the door, he seems to connect the dots.

"Torao!" he calls after him, his voice slightly cracking. "It's okay if you don't want to play with them. Let's play later on, just the two of us instead!"

"OI!" Usopp smacks him on the head. "What's wrong with you?! You were supposed to share your sad story about never playing games with anyone before! And what about us and our feelings?!"

"Why are you hitting me?!" Luffy replies, a bit sulky because he doesn't get it. And Law thinks that of course he doesn't. After all Luffy told him all about it already yesterday night. How he never saw a board game before, but he once played some jumping game one of his brothers drew on the sand.

"We saw some kids playing it before, but we didn't know the rules. Sabo taught us how to play, but Ace said later that those weren't the correct rules, Sabo probably thought them up, because he said earlier he also never played before. I didn't care, it was fun to do something together like that"

Luffy couldn't fall asleep and was kinda moody as the result, so Law, not really knowing what to do, simply proposed to play, because that's the only thing that came to his mind. And then he somehow told him this was the first game his parents gave to Law and his little sister. After Luffy wondered outloud how it's like to actually have parents around, Law somehow ended up playing with him till the earliest hours of the morning.

Usopp just shakes his head, and calls to Law, bringing him back to reality. "Just ignore him, he was always slightly off in the head, there's no way to fix him"

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say!" Luffy complains.

"What you said earlier also wasn't nice!" Usopp retorted and he smacks him again. Luffy doesn't stay indebted for long and returns the favour, which makes Usopp do it again as well, and they probably would keep on doing it for longer, but Law finally turns around, sighs and just goes back to his seat.

"Do you all have to be always so dramatic about everything you do" he grits through his teeth, crossing his arms and looking at no one in particular.

"Says the most dramatic one around…" slips from Usopp's lips despite his better judgment, and he is immediately greeted with a glare promising many death threats, but their staring contest gets interrupted before Usopp can duck under the table in fear.

"Here you go!" Yamato smiles as he places a plate in front of Law. There's a half of the chocolate dessert resting on it, together with a clean spoon. Law looks at him and raises his eyebrows. "I heard there's nothing better than a make up snack after a fight!" he cheers and goes back to his own half of the dessert, finishing it up with a wide smile.

Law just looks at the plate wordlessly. He admits he feels kinda stupid over all that now, but he would rather bite off his tongue than admit it outloud.

"So, what are we doing about Brook?" Usopp returns with the annoying question. Law closes his eyes and snaps his fingers.

"He will play, as an assassin. He will go backwards, retreating his steps all the way back to the beginning" he says, not even bothering to acknowledge the puzzled looks directed at him. "And every time he will pass by another player, they get eliminated"

"Wait wait wait, that sounds scary!", "It actually sounds fun! Can we fight him off somehow??", "Yohohoho!" are comments that are soon following.

"Hold on, but then no one can reach the end goal!" Usopp points out and is greeted with a very sinister smile in reply.

"Good job for catching on that"

Luffy at least doesn't seem to mind, Chopper is still panicking, Brook doesn't stop laughing, and Yamato's mouth is just comically gaping open. Usopp for once is not giving up though.

"Or maybe" Usopp starts, pondering. "The assassin is instead a ghost. Every time he passes by someone, he starts to follow them around, like a curse! And if that person doesn't do something in particular, they have to return to the start… or they get eliminated!"

"If they don't throw two sixes in four rounds, the haunted person will have to move backwards from now on as well" Law adds. "All the way till they reach the starting point"

"Or if they roll two fours. Because four means death and eight is double death so it breaks the curse!" Usopp nods. "Wait, do we even have another dice?"

"Now we do" Law says, flicks his fingers and another die lands on the table. "You can also escape the assassin following you if you slide down a snake or go up the ladder. We can consider it a special rule that applies only when you're followed by the assassin."

"Then the ghost has to give it up and find someone else to follow around!" Usopp finishes, pointing at Brook. "But if the person who is followed rolls two twos, they become a ghost as well till they get another pair of fours!"

"Good idea" Law comments and Usopp flashes him a smile. And then extends his opened palm towards him, pausing and waiting for something. Law looks at him. "Come on, that was brilliant, high five is in order!"

Law looks at the offered palm and at his own hand. Should he…? And then slowly raises it up and leaves it hanging there in midair, not moving it any further. Usopp smacks his own hand with his, smiling from ear to ear and wiping his nose with his finger. "We make a good team!" he declares.

Before Law can take his hand away, Chopper and Luffy also join in for the high five-ing, earning themselves a groan. Law quickly takes his hand back and hides it under the table, as far as he possibly can.

"Sorry, Torao!" Luffy says and no one gets it, but Law doesn't really comment on it either. Usopp just shrugs, probably thinking it's just another of Luffy's weird things he does. Law starts to realize that's the usual consensus around the Sunny.

"So, whose turn was it?"

"God Usopp's" Law answers, which makes Usopp both flush and giggle at the same time.

"You can be God Torao as well, if you want. You earned it!" he says mercifully.

"No, I'm good" Law replies immediately.

"Suit yourself, I won't offer it to you again!" he warns, waggling his finger at him.

They roll the die, Brook finds his first victim, yohohoho-ing all the time when stalking Usopp's pawn (which was the closest to the goal) while the latter already regrets all his life choices up until this second. Taking advantage of the commotion Law places a plate in front of Luffy. It contains half of the half of the dessert.

"For me?? Really?!" Luffy can't believe his eyes and dumps everything that's on it in his mouth, which is why he has to retrieve the spoon a moment later from his rubbery maw. "Wow, it's indeed very sweet"

Yamato sends Law a smile, but it gets blatantly ignored.

"Ooff, I'm alive" Usopp wipes sweat from his forehead, he slid down a snake to escape Brook's clutches. "The ghost couldn't take me, haha" he laughs weakly. "Why did I even agree to this rule?!"

"Assassin, not a ghost" Law comments.

"It's a ghost! The Bone Snatcher! Because he will steal your bones once he puts the curse on you" Usopp insists.

"I prefer just Brook" says Brook. "Yohohoho"

"No, it's actually a villain! A marine! An admiral!" Luffy butts-in.

"A Germa" Law corrects him.

"A Germa!!" Luffy agrees, throwing his fist in the air.

"I dunno why you're talking about those bastards, but I agree about every bad word you said about them" says Sanji, as he returns to the kitchen. "Or actually, no, just don't talk about them in my presence if you want to get any dinner today" he reconsiders, after he gets back to his counter.

He then notices almost immediately an extra plate in the sink that Law shambled away. "Confess, who snatched something from the kitchen when I was away? Was it you, Law?!" he looks accussingly, knowing fully well what Law's powers could do. Law doesn't exactly agree or disagree, because he might have indeed made Sanji's life a bit harder when he sometimes snatched some snacks for Luffy between meals, just so Luffy would give him some peace. But when Sanji just gives him a stare full of daggers and past resentments, Law remains completely unremorseful.

"You need more than an extra plate as a proof" Law defies him, but before the conflict can escalate any further, Yamato raises his hand, trying to attract Sanji's attention instead.

"Sorry, it was me. I'm a big boy, so just one plate wasn't enough!"

"Oh, if it was Yamato-chan, it's alright" Sanji swoons. "I'm not apologizing to you though, even if you hate on Germa. I have no guarantee you didn't force Yamato-chan's pure heart to help you get extra food" he huffs in Law's direction. Curiously enough, just a moment later he swears when he turns on the water in the sink and it splashes all over him.

"Bone Snatcher!" Usopp still insists on his idea.

"How about Oden?" Yamato asks cheerfully like people aren't fighting and about to punch each other to push their ideas, and suddenly everyone turns to look at him.

"Oden, how nice" Chopper comments. Almost everyone else nods as well. "Oden it is!"

"Since when was Oden a vengeful ghost?" Usopp frowns, but Law just shrugs. "Oh, come on, you can't agree to this as well!"

"It's Oden" Law replies, smirking again when Usopp groans.

"I regret sharing my God title with you, I take it back!"

"I didn't accept it anyway"

At that moment Usopp notices that Law is munching another cookie and narrows his eyes.

"Liking sweets doesn't really suit you" he says, trying to get back on him, judging him with his narrowed eyes.

Law furrows his brows. "I use my brain, brain needs sugar"

"I can confirm that it's a scientific fact!" Chopper butts in, nodding his head vigorously.

Usopp is still looking sceptically at him, when Luffy suddenly shouts. "Finally! I made it on the same field as Torao again!"

They all look down on the board.

"So, what now??" Luffy looks expectantly at Law. They all do. He blinks once. Oh, right. Alliance.

"Now…" he starts and taps his finger on the board. "…we play as one team. We roll two dice, you one and me another, and we add up the number and move our pawns the same amount of fields. The alliance lasts till we roll two ones, which means we can go seperate ways from that moment again"

"What if I don't want to finish the alliance?" Luffy asks immediately.

"Then, I guess, it continues" Law answers reluctantly.

"TWO DICES?!" Usopp screams. "That's an unfair advantage, it's like rolling dice twice every round!"

"Also, anytime we step on a ladder or a snake, only one person can go up or down. That's also a way to seperate an alliance" Law adds, because he knows he needs to balance this rule out a bit.

"Eh, I don't like that" Luffy complains.

"But if we're haunted by Oden and lose to the curse, we both have to retreat our steps all the way back to the beginning, unless we manage to lift it"

"That sounds fun" Luffy cheers again.

"What about the end goal?" asks Usopp, who is now munching on a cookie which he wouldn't touch before, suddenly crackers long forgotten for some mysterious reason.

"Only one person from the alliance can win" Law clarifies.

"How will that be decided?" Yamato asks.

"I will tell you once we get to that situation"

Everyone but Luffy protests.

"That sounds like an adventure!" he snickers.

"What's with that shtick of yours and witholding the rules! I protest! Come on guys, join me in my rebellion!" Usopp tries to rile up the crowd, but they all decide it's not worth it, because who cares, it's still fun. Law sneaks him a small V sign in his direction, which is Usopp's last straw.

"Fine, you want to play this way, then we will add some mines to the board!" he says, maniacally munching on the cookies, sugar rush probably getting to his head as he leans forward, fishing out a pen out of nowhere and coloring one, two, three, four fields completely black before Law reacts, at first trying to catch his hand to stop him, but in the end he just snatches his pen away, using shambles. "Hey, I wasn't done yet!" Usopp complains.

"That's enough already" Law huffs. "Returning people to the beginning all the time is poor balance, it will just make everyone frustrated all the time"

"So what? My luck is flawless and I will laugh at them all the time!"

"What a petty reason"

"It's done already, so deal with it!"

"Think of something else for the mines"

"Guys" Luffy interrupts them. "How about whoever steps on that black field jumps in the air?" he proposes.

They both look quizzically at him.

Luffy simply puts a pawn on that field and flips the board up so the pawn flies in the air (together with all the rest of them) and then lands back on board in a completely different spot. "An earthquake, shishishi!"

"Now you made a mess" Law comments, looking at the board, no surprise in his voice.

"I don't remember where was my pawn located before… How could you Luffy??" Chopper laments, but Luffy only laughs more.

"You basically destroyed the game, you know" Usopp criticizes, but Yamato and Brook look at each other and only laugh. "We can't play like this"

That caused a brief silence. Luffy is scratching his head, about to open his mouth and say something, but Law stops him.

"This doesn't destroy anything" he bluffs. "You just have to start over from the spot where your pawn landed on. And if it landed in the middle of a ladder or a snake, you put them up or down accordingly."

They all look at him like he just saved a world on his way back home from a grocery trip while not forgetting to buy the milk in the process. He has a hard time trying not to cringe.

"What about the pawn that fell off the board or beyond the borders?"

"Just put them on closest fields" he said, taking one of the pawns that completely fell off to the table, pondering. Putting it back on the start seems a bit cruel, but he guesses it can't be avoided…

"Just toss it in the air again, wherever it lands will be it's new field!" Luffy says, snatches it from Law's hand and demonstrates. The pawn fell slightly to the left from the middle of the board. "See, it works out!"

Everyone leans forward to find their new respective spots for their pawns, besides Law who catches Sanji frowning as he steals a peek from his counter. He also didn't miss the way Sanji stared at the board earlier on and Law looks towards the door, lost in his inner world again. He thinks back to their lunch, when everyone was here as well.

"Eh, but what about our alliance?" Luffy suddenly remembers and looks expectantly at Law who returns his attention back on him.

"We still roll both dice and move the same amount of fields"

"Oh, so it's not affected, good" Luffy practically beams, like suddenly something heavy was lifted from his chest. "So we just have to meet up again, shishishi"

"You know it will be harder now that you will move exactly the same amount of fields each round, right?" Usopp asks, taken aback by Luffy's carefree attitude.

"It will be just more challenging, is all! That's nothing for a future king of the pirates!" he cries out. "Also, it can't be helped"

"Indeed" Law says, looking at him. "It was an earthquake, after all"

Luffy chuckles. "Exactly!"

They keep on playing for whole afternoon, Yamato becomes Oden twice and seems to enjoy it more than the regular gameplay, chasing after Chopper who escapes all the way back to the beginning from him before he realizes he's safe already, Brook gets released from his Oden curse by two twos and is close to the goal again. Red and blue pawns mysteriously meet again by a chain of random circumenstances of Law escaping from the Oden curse up the ladder and Luffy sliding down a snake. They're seperated exactly by five fields now.

One die, the one that Law threw, shows a two. Luffy's die swirls a lot and seems to have stopped on five, yet it somehow flipped to show a three instead.

"I saw it!" Usopp shouts, pointing an accussatory finger in Law's direction. "You manipulated Luffy's dice so it lands in the way you want it to!"

"You saw nothing" Law comments back. "And you have no evidence that I ever cheated"

"Wait, why does it suddenly sound like you were cheating all this time??"

"Guys, Brook won again" Chopper complains worriedly. "Does it mean the game is over again?"

"No, we're playing to see who's last now" Law reminds him, ignoring Usopp's question and avoiding his long nose proding towards him.

When Luffy and Law, still somehow in an alliance, reach the goal together, they all finally learn how it will get decided who will be the first and who the second.

"We take the dice, throw it the hardest we can, and whichever one lands closest to the board wins" Law's lips curl up, smile sharp like razor blades, and everyone feels the chill run down their spine at the sight. Luffy laughs and everyone take it as a sign that now is the time to duck under the table, the fastest they can.

Law wasn't kidding when he said "the hardest they can", both of their dice bumped all over the place and hit the ceilling, till finally Luffy's one lands in the pot on the stove, while Law's one bounces off of Luffy's head and rolls away to some corner of the room.

As the result Sanji throws them all out of the kitchen angirly and threatens they won't get any dinner today.

"We need to play like this every evening! After Sanji is no longer in the kitchen" Luffy declares as soon as they're on the deck.

"Without me" Law deadpans, because how dare he decide that on his own again.

"Why?? Usopp, do something, make him agree!!"

"No way, convince him yourself, if I do anything he's gonna murder me in my sleep tonight"

"You bet I will"

"Scary!!" says Usopp as he hides behind Luffy who just laughs like it's all a funny joke, because Torao is always so funny.

----------------------------------

Later that evening, Sanji is still preparing some snack for Franky who finally managed to sit down after a whole day of making some inventions and repairs. Nami and Robin are chatting at the kitchen table, and Zoro is lying down on the sofa under the window.

"What's that?" Franky asks, noticing a cardboard box sitting on the table. "Isn't it that snakes and ladders game they played before?"

"What?" Sanji sounds alarmed as he peeks over from the counter. "I was sure I threw it out together with all those rascals"

"Oh, so that's the game they were playing" Robin looks curiously when Franky opens the cover. "It looks rather simple"

"It might look this way, but they invented shit tons of new rules" Sanji grumbles, unquestionably thinking back to all the chaos they created in his precious kitchen.

"They did? What kind of?" Franky inquires, taking out some pawns and two dice.

"Whoever finished first was an assassin chasing other pawns down on their path, I think" Sanji says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Oh, how interesting" Robin smiles.

"What are those black fields?" Nami asks.

"Now that you mention it, I have never seen those before in that board game" Franky shrugs.

"They shook the board, scattering all the pieces randomly around whenever someone stepped on one of those" Sanji explains.

"That's surprisingly inventive. Was it Usopp's idea?"

"I think it was actually Luffy's"

"Huh"

"Okay, you're the orange one" Franky hands Nami the pawn. "And you're gonna be green" he turns his head towards Zoro, placing his pawn at the start.

"What? I'm not playing any games" Zoro protests.

"Neither am I" Sanji warns Franky before he can move on to give him a pawn as well. "I only told you about those rules because my beloved Nami-swan asked me"

Zoro looks at him. "Ah, you're just afraid to lose to me"

"WHAT"

"Come on, guys, let's play. It feels so nostalgic, I didn't play this game in forever. They left it here, we can as well play as we wait for our snacks. Sit down here, Zoro"

"Only if you make the stupid cook play"

"I'm not playing!" Sanji shouts. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you on the watch tonight?"

"Torao took over for me today, actually, so I'm bored"

"Great, then go to bed early like a manchild you are!"

"Sure, if you declare my victory by default" Zoro snickers, moving on from the sofa to the table, and patting the chair next to him. "Come on, don't be a coward"

"The hell will freeze over faster than you will see me playing a stupid board game with you!"

Nami sighs. "Come on Sanji, Franky says it's more fun with more people"

Sanji looks at Nami, his swirly eyebrow flying all the way up on his forehead. "Fine, roll for me until I'm done here" he sighs. "Just so you know, I'm doing it only because Nami-swan asked me to" he clarifies, making a face at Zoro.

"Keep telling yourself that" Zoro smirks.

Soon, they're all sitting down at the table, few of them laughing and others sighing when Zoro somehow manages to turn himself around a few times, earning multiple scoldings from Sanji in the process.

"This is actually first time I'm playing any board game" Robin shares after a while.

"Me too actually. We didn't have any money so we couldn't really play any games" Nami muses. "This is surprisingly rather fun. I was gonna just join you all so Franky doesn't feel lonely"

"Oi thanks, I super appreciate that!" Franky shows her thumbs up. "Did you two ever play before?"

"Nah" Zoro answers.

"You probably only trained yourself stupid even as a child" Sanji comments.

"You bet"

"And you, Sanji?"

"I…" he says, taking a longer exhale of his cigarette. "I only watched my brothers play it before. They played it so often that I memorized the rules just by looking at them. That was before father found out and threw the game away"

Nami shared some condolences with him. He just waved them off, because he was too distracted by stupid marimo attempting to climb the snake from it's tail.

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen, Law leans on the wall, standing there quietly. After some time, he shambles himself away to the crow's nest, where no one could see him smiling ever so slightly to himself.

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Good Enough ♡ ~

(( Day #4 )) Lucifer x Reader

He hates you. He hates you. You’re sure that he must hate you.

A/N: This is my attempt at an actual fic like a long ass story... ummm,,,, I wrote this a while ago because I just love love love luci and mean m3n so I decided to combine the two!!!! xxx this isn’t the longest thing i’ve ever written but it’s the longest thing i’ve written in a while... hopefully it is alright~~

WC - 5,021

mean, stubborn Lucifer (pretty much luci before like lesson 20?? lmaooo)

~~~

For as long as you’ve lived in the Devildom, Lucifer has been hard on you. 

You’re not sure why the demon pushes you to your limits but, try as you might, you just can’t make Lucifer come to like you. No matter how early you wake up to be on time for breakfast or how intensely you study for your classes, the demon only says that you can ‘do better’. He always finds a flaw in every single piece of yourself that you present to him and that fact only makes you want to try harder with him. 

No matter how difficult it may be, you still want to get along with him (even if he has other plans).

“(Y/N), you’re on cleaning duty tonight.” 

Lucifer’s sudden announcement in the middle of dinner nearly makes you drop your utensils in shock. He has to be kidding with this. Last night was your turn to clean the kitchen and you didn’t leave a single spec of dust on any appliance. Not to mention, Mammon is the one who cooked tonight and you really do not want to be in charge of cleaning that up. 

“(Y/N) cleaned last night, Lucifer,” Asmo reminds his older brother before he sends a gentle smile your way. He tips his shoulder towards you thoughtfully but then instantly stiffens under his brother’s glare. 

“And?” The avatar of pride crosses his arms over his chest and waits for anyone else to refuse him. No one ever does. Asmo sends an apologetic wince your way before turning back to his food. When none of the other demons stick up for you, you know that you have to do something about it yourself. 

“Why do I have to clean up?” At the sound of your soft voice, Lucifer’s eyes slightly widen. This goes against every moral you have that relates to coexisting with Lucifer, the main rule is to never question his authority. As of lately, you’ve grown tired of the way he picks on you. It’s nothing extreme compared to how he punishes his brothers but, you don’t understand why he tugs on your hair and hands you time-consuming tasks.

All of the other demons slowly look toward you before glancing at Lucifer. The eldest demon places his utensils down gently against his plate as his red eyes narrow your way. 

You don’t have the strength to look him in the eyes so you keep your gaze locked on your half-empty glass. 

“Are you questioning me, human?” His now emotionless expression doesn’t falter once, not even as you fist your hands in the napkin settled on your lap. Everyone in the room knows exactly what you did and the tension becomes so thick that you wish the ground would just swallow you whole.

Right now, you know that you have a choice to make. You can either fight with Lucifer or comply with him. It would be so much easier on everyone if you complied but, it wouldn’t be easier on yourself. 

“I just don’t understand why I have to do it when you already had me organize the library today.” You try to keep your composure, try to keep your heartbeat leveled as you finally muster up the courage to look at Lucifer. 

His jaw clicks with frustration when you look into his eyes. He can see the uncertainty and fear swimming in your iris and the demon hates how it looks on you. 

“You’re not going to be cleaning it alone, I am also on cleaning duty tonight.” Lucifer’s answer doesn’t satisfy you at all but, you take the small inch as a win. For once instead of reprimanding you, Lucifer gave you something to take. 

You truly don’t understand him. You fear that you never will. 

The kitchen is filled with just as much tension as the dining room and you think that you’ll never have the luxury of breathing freely again. Lucifer remains quiet as he hands you clean dishes, ones that he expects you to dry to perfection and then place neatly on the drying wrack. 

Every time that you misplace a single dish, he is quick to correct you. 

“Place it beside the other bowl,”

“Organize the utensils by category.”

At one point, he reaches over and holds your hand to guide exactly where he wants each dish to go. His entire body is pressed up against your own as he leans over to hurry the task along. You hate how your heart skips a beat at the proximity, how you happily soak in the difficult presence of Lucifer. 

When you finally put the last spoon in its drying space, you wipe your hands on one of the kitchen towels. The realization that you can leave puts a smile on your face and you reach over to grab your phone so that you can go back to your room and hide. 

It seems that Lucifer has other plans as he boxes you in against the counter with both hands on either side of your body. He bends his tall frame over slightly, dipping his head so that he can look at you closer. 

“Do you think we are done here?” It’s obvious to you that this is a trick question. Regardless if you say yes or no, the demon is going to give you another task. You battle his question with one of your own. 

“We have classes tomorrow, shouldn’t we call it a night?” You try to keep yourself as polite as possible and even go as far as to give the demon a wobbly smile. Lucifer’s frown doesn’t falter in the slightest as he pushes himself off the counter to stand to his full height. He runs his fingers through his hair, and for a split second, you have slight hope that he is going to let you leave. 

But, then he glances down at you. 

“We’re mopping the floors right now.”

In addition to mopping the floors, the two of you also deep-cleaned the fridge and washed all the kitchen towels. Needless to say that by midnight when you both finish, you are exhausted. 

“I expect to see you at six am before breakfast to go over those reports from this afternoon.” Lucifer’s clipped tone as he leaves the kitchen almost makes you cry. You can feel frustration aching in your chest but when the demon turns around to get your confirmation, all you can do is blink the tears away and nod. 

No matter how many times you go over it in your head, no matter how many hours you spend thinking about it, you just can’t understand what you did to make Lucifer dislike you. His endless tasks feel like a punishment no matter how many times he tells you that they are not. 

You also can’t figure out why you go along with the demon’s gentle torment of you. You can’t figure out why you want him to like you so badly, why you want to make him happy. 

For the same reasons that you can’t figure out Lucifer’s intentions, you can’t figure out the same feelings in your own heart. 

Ignorance is bliss and you plan to continue keeping up with the demon until you physically can’t anymore. 

There is something inside your chest that is pushing you, it’s a feeling that motivates you to shoulder Lucifer’s harsh demands. What a coincidence it is that you can’t figure out that emotion either, love. 

You think it’s the exact reason why you find yourself outside of Lucifer’s office the next morning. Perhaps it’s because you just hate to let him down. 

“Come in,” Lucifer murmurs as you softly open his door. His eyes run over your figure as you enter and gently close his door behind you, the dark circles under your eyes physically pain him. He’ll give you a break after this but, for right now, he just needs more time with you. The demon just can’t get you off his mind and whenever you’re near, unfortunately, he feels a little more at ease. Lucifer knows you can put up with it for a little while longer. “sit.”

You sit wordlessly in the chair on the opposite side of his desk, mirroring Lucifer’s position. After that, you wait. Lucifer doesn’t hand you any documents right away, he continues to read over and hastily marks any section that needs it. All you do is sit there. 

The soft lull of his record player, a gentle piano melody escaping through the speakers, nearly makes you fall back asleep. Your eyes flutter shut under your exhaustion and despite the slight warmth from the fireplace, Lucifer’s office is very cold, the brisk temperature is the only thing that keeps you from escaping into a slumber. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer calls out to you and causes your body to lurch as you sit up in a hurry. You subtly try to blink the sleep out of your eyes as you face him. The kind smile you give him does not phase the demon in the slightest. Lucifer merely stares at you for a long pause before going back to the document in his hand. 

The entire situation just makes you so incredibly confused, why would Lucifer have you come in and not even give you any work? You could have been sleeping. 

“Umm, I think I should-” The words of your planned escape fall off your tongue when Lucifer glances up at the sound of your voice. There’s something about the expected stare he gives you underneath his thin glasses and the shade of his hair, the dark strands tinted with gray, that makes you squirm in your seat. “never mind.” 

Lucifer continues to stare at you as he carefully watches your attempt to save a pitiful conversation. He notices how you glance over his walls, the clock, and then back down at your lap. The demon focuses on your fingertips and how you tightly clasp your hands together for warmth. 

He seems to have forgotten in his time away from the human world just how sensitive humans are. 

The avatar of pride rises from his seat, standing tall before you as he extends his limbs to take off his jacket. He slowly circles the desk and comes to stand right behind you. His gentle hands softly push your upper body forward in your seat so that he can wrap the thick jacket around your shoulders. Once he’s sure that your arms have gone through the holes, Lucifer reaches over to button each clip extremely slowly. His long fingers capture your attention and you greedily watch with anticipation as he gets closer and closer to your chest. 

“Don’t fall asleep again.” He murmurs against your ear, his lips so close that you can feel them ghosting over your skin. You can only pray and hope that the demon can’t hear the loud thumping of your heart. “Understand?” Lucifer gives you a hard look as he finishes his work with the jacket and walks to stand back in front of the desk. 

At your obedient nod, his lips twitch upward. 

“Good.” 

For the rest of the session until breakfast, you sit in the silence of the light piano melody and the sound of his pen against paper. Lucifer doesn’t give you a single file to review. 

“Rest well tonight and tomorrow, I won’t be needing your assistance.” This new revelation before breakfast nearly makes you gasp, Lucifer rarely ever gives you a break. At the sight of your lips twitching as you fight back a smile, Lucifer scowls. “Don’t look so pleased, human. I will see you again the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You quietly murmur before bringing your hands up to your cheeks. No matter what you do, you can’t stop relief from filling your face. It angers the other demon to no end, do you not care that he will be working all alone without you? Do you not care to extend the same politeness and ask if he still wants help? 

He’s aware of his incredible selfishness toward you and your time but, ignores it nonetheless.

Through his anger, Lucifer has to remind himself that you are both a student and a human. The fact that you put up with him so easily is a show of genuine kindness. 

The demon hates it to no end. He hates how you’re changing him despite how hard he tries to fight it. Lucifer is sure that he hates you. 

You become sure of it too the very next evening.

‘Come here now.’

The text from Lucifer comes without warning and you stiffen upon sight of it. Mammon, who looks over your shoulder, even screeches at it. Stupidly, you thought Lucifer would not bother you for the night. You thought you had a free night for once but, it seems the demon can’t even give you that.

“Is he mad about something?” You ask his brother because you really don’t get it, why would Lucifer tell you to relax and then demand that you go to see him? That seems like the opposite of relaxing. 

Levi shrugs his shoulders while Beel continues to down his popcorn. 

“Dunno, good luck! We can rewind the movie when you come back!” Levi’s enthusiasm is not new, he can barely rip his eyes away from the television. Mammon gives your wrist a gentle squeeze of support before you make your way out of the demon’s room. 

Finding Lucifer is incredibly easy since his office is somewhere you can walk to in the dark with your hands tied behind your back. You contemplate waiting before heading into his room, to give yourself time to mentally prepare yourself for his torture but, the quicker you enter, the quicker you get to leave. With that in mind, you push his doors open and step in without a second thought. 

His office is quiet as a soft melody plays in the background, if anything, the air seems relaxing. Well, it seemed that way until you entered. 

“Do you not understand the concept of knocking?” Lucifer asks without looking up from his pile of documents. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he roughly notes something against the paper in his hands. The rough action causes you to tightly swallow the rest of your nerves. “I believe it is a common human world practice, is it not?” 

At your silence, Lucifer looks up at you with an expecting glare. The resentment in his eyes is something akin to frostbite and you’re sure you’re going to freeze over. 

“It is,” You answer and then take a few steps forward to stand directly in front of his desk. Lucifer hums before glancing back to his paper and like this, you can finally get a good look at him. Seeing the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and the lighter strands of gray against the dark backdrop of his thick hair almost causes you to squirm upon sight. He’s a handsome demon and even you can acknowledge and appreciate that. Lucifer is ethereal even when he is glaring at you and threatening you with your life, you’re sure of it. 

“Then why is it that you fail to knock each time you enter my office?” Gone is Lucifer’s patience, it seems that you’ve been given the short end of the stick since you’re now the target of his bitter frustrations. 

For a brief moment, you mull over your words before choosing to tell him the honest truth. 

“I get nervous and forget,” Slightly honest, it’s true that you get nervous but, you fail to knock because you’re always trying to get in and out of his office as quickly as possible. Lucifer’s pen stills in his hand and his jaw clenches together tightly. 

“I give you no reason to be nervous.” He looks at you with a narrowed gaze as if he is trying to understand you, as if you will spill all your secrets under his glare. Much to his dismay, you remain silent and are unable to reply. 

Conversing with Lucifer is always a tricky dance where you try not to step on his feet. 

It’s best to get straight to the point. 

“Um, is there a reason you wanted to see me?” You stare down at his desk instead of his face as you run your fingers along the wooden trim. It’s distracting, a good thing to you, and a bad thing to him. 

“I can hear you all talking through the walls.” Bitter, Lucifer sounds undeniably bitter. “It’s too loud, I thought I told you to rest.” If this is his attempt at showing his concern for you, you find it to be weak. 

“I am relaxing, we are watching a movie.” Lucifer’s frown only grows larger at your words and you anxiously start to toy with your fingers. Your thumb runs over your knuckle and then the tip of your finger before pressing down on the digit to pop it. 

“A movie?” His voice sounds dangerous as if he is insinuating that you are doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. “Who is we?” The rapid beating of your heart must not be good for your health and you try to take a moment just to breathe. 

“Mammon, Levi, and Beel,” You answer truthfully as your eyes dart to a random corner in the room. There is no way you can face the disappointment in Lucifer’s eyes or attempt to understand him. No matter how much you think about it, you can’t understand why he is acting so difficult. 

“Sounds like fun.” He practically spits this out through clenched teeth and you finally look over him. Timidly, your eyes run over his hard face. The feeling in your gut is pity.

“Well, would you like to join us?” At your question, Lucifer looks at you as if you insulted his very being. His eyes widen dramatically and he places his pen down against the hardwood of his desk. However, the shock quickly evaporates from his face and is replaced with anger. 

“No.” His decline is firm, set in stone. “Unlike you and your head full of air, I try not to spend my free time doing such worthless things.” 

Your eyes narrow toward him and your nose scrunches up in disgust at his dramatics. If Lucifer was trying to offend you, he did so incredibly well. As you try to put a lid on your temper you think of your second rule that comes with surviving Lucifer, never let your anger get the better of you. 

Despite how hard you try to remind yourself to do this, the words work to no avail. Who gave Lucifer the right to judge you so hard? To pick you apart and pluck at any piece of you that he doesn’t find satisfactory?

“I wouldn’t want you there anyway.” The petty reply leaves your lips before you can catch it and the glare to match your words is not something you even try to hide. With just the two of you in the room, you have no worries about how this explosive decision would affect any of the other demons. Lucifer’s eyes narrow at the fight instilled in you. He slowly places his hands in his lap while keeping his deadpan stare on your face. 

“Excuse me?” He settles for this and tries to give you an opportunity to take it back. Horns appear on top of his head as voluminous wings sprout from his back 

“You heard me.” If Lucifer is shocked by your outburst, he does an exceptionally well job at hiding it. “Do you really dislike me so much that you have to nag me about everything?” You can’t help how your voice grows with emotion, how you firmly place your palms on his desk and slightly lean over the wood. “I do everything that you ask for and I do it perfectly. Would it kill you to be the least bit appreciative?” 

Your fingers twitch against the hardwood as Lucifer continues to stare at you. Timidness is flowing through your body once again and you try everything in your power to push it away. No good will come to you right now if you back down. It’s not like you can pretend this never happened, no, you have to push through. 

“Do I dislike you?” Lucifer repeats as he finally pushes himself out of his chair, standing to his full height to tower over you. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting his muscle bulge under his jacket and you have half a mind to think that he does this to hold back from lunging at you. “I loathe you, human.” 

Fear instills in your core and disappointment takes root at the painful feeling of it all. 

“What? Why?” You can’t help but ask him of this, ask him why he’s stepping all over your heart so easily. 

“No matter how much effort you put into this place, the Devildom will remain the same.” In contrast to your own wide eyes filled with glossy tears, Lucifer’s are narrowed and tinted with irritation. The bitter feeling rubs him entirely the wrong way. 

“You hate me because you think I’m trying to change this place?” No matter how much work you did for Lucifer, no matter how closely you followed his directions to a ’t’, it didn’t matter. That much is true for you now. “All I ever did was what you asked of me.”

“I did not ask you to change my brothers and I most certainly did not ask you to change me.” This is too much for you to keep up with, your head is spinning under Lucifer’s true feelings. “I see the way you look at me.” 

You instantly freeze and dart your eyes to the floor, he can’t be insinuating this. Right now, you’ve never wanted to run away and hide as badly before in your life. You can’t have Lucifer saying this out loud, not when you haven’t even said it to yourself yet. 

“Do you think that you are subtle, human? All the lingering touches and meaningful stares, I know exactly how you feel about me.” Lucifer’s harsh words stab at your heart, picking and pulling you apart. Unlike you, the demon doesn’t appear affected in the least. Lucifer still stands tall with his arms crossed over his chest and glare as dangerous as ever. “You will not change me.”

“Haven’t I already changed you?” You wish you would bite your own tongue and stop talking but, you can’t. The harder Lucifer pushes you, the harder you push back. At this point, you’re not even aware of what you’re saying anymore. You just want to affect Lucifer as terribly as he’s affecting you. “I-I think you’re wrong about how you feel about me.”

“Oh? Tell me, how do I feel about you?” The demon seems to be mildly entertained, his eyes widening in some twisted amusement as you tremble in front of him. 

“I think what you really hate is how much you need me.” Your hands instantly slap over your mouth after the words finally fall out. Need is a strong word. Regardless of how Lucifer claims to feel about you, you know the demon wants you near him all the time. Why else would he keep you attached to his hip?

It seems that the tension of the entire room, which is filled to the brim, explodes. Before, it was like a suffocatingly thick smog covering the two of you. Now the room is draped in heavy silence, one so loud that all you can hear are the ticks coming from the grandfather clock beside the door. 

You subtly glance towards it, the door, and start planning how exactly you can escape from this situation. 

“Get out.” Lucifer’s orders send you quickly excusing yourself without a second thought. Not once, do you look at him or think to do so. You don’t see the stunned look on his face or the pieces of his heart all coming together. No, you run back to your room and hide with your tail between your legs. 

Under the covers, you pray that no harm will come to you. 

Weeks have passed since that incident with Lucifer and all has seemingly run smoothly. The demon remains cordial with you and does not make a scene in front of his brothers. He simply hands you documents to review and makes you leave them outside of his office when you are done. The complete 180 shift of his treatment toward you almost makes you feel embarrassed about your previous words. 

How could you be so bold and claim that the demon needs you? It’s been weeks, much to your aching heart, and Lucifer has not asked for you once. 

‘I know exactly how you feel about me.’ His lingering words sometimes ring in your mind, forcing you into a state of humiliation. It’s safe to say that you somewhat understand your feelings for Lucifer better now, you can admit that how you feel about him is different than how you feel about anyone else that you know. Your affection for him makes the distance between the two of you more difficult to cope with. 

All you want to do is see Lucifer. 

“(Y/N), Lucifer wants to see you in his room.” Asmo knocks on your door in passing, delivering the words that seal your fate before he happily heads to his own room. 

You regret your earlier dramatics and begs for his attention because as you walk to his room, you can’t think of anything scarier than facing him. The demon must have a reasonable explanation to call you out and you hold onto the hope that it will all pass over smoothly. 

Once in front of his door, you actually remember to knock. The sensation of the hardwood against your knuckles momentarily distracts you from the anxiety in your heart and you’re thankful for it. 

“Come in,” Lucifer’s voice sounds sharper than normal as if he is on edge. You mentally say a prayer to anyone who will listen before entering his room and closing the door firmly behind you. 

The demon can’t hide the shock on his face when he finally sees you. His eyes slightly widen and his hand moves to rest over his chest. The moment of weakness doesn’t last for long before his face falls into a rather pleasant expression. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to knock,” He teases and you can’t help but awkwardly rock on your heels. You’re not sure what to say to Lucifer or how to face him. The demon can tell this right off of your face. “calm down, human.” 

“I’m not going to eat you,” His voice draws you in, and forces your feet to move as you walk over to the couch by his piano. “sit.” You sit on the edge of the cushion, incredibly close beside him, and mentally prepare for the scolding you’re sure you’re going to receive. “I am only going to say this once,” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping his anger won’t be too blunt. 

“Look at me.” There’s a soft touch against the back of your hand and you timidly open your eyes to find Lucifer’s fingers brushing against your own. You obediently look up at him. “You were right,” He grabs your hand with his own.

Lucifer is admitting to one of his faults, your lips part in shock and eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Right about what?” 

Lucifer looks you over as his eyes slightly soften and a gentle smile takes place on his face. 

“I do need you.” The confession nearly makes your heart stall in your chest and the gentle glide of his thumb against your palm does little to calm you down. 

“You do?” You repeat, testing the words on your tongue. Lucifer bends his head forward slightly, letting his hair brush against your forehead. 

“I do.” His voice sounds much closer now and you freeze at the proximity of his body. “I always have, please forgive me for always being so harsh with you.” One of his hands crosses your body to hold onto your hip, wrapping his arm around your waist. “It seems I was the one who was unaware of my feelings.”

“Your feelings?” Finally, you look up through your lashes to find Lucifer staring intently at you. He nearly sighs at the contact. 

“Must I spell it out for you?” He looks away for the slightest moment before bringing his eyes back to you. “I adore you, (Y/N). I was harsh because of it. I am terribly sorry.” 

You’re having a hard time keeping up with the suddenness of it all. It seems that you couldn’t have been more wrong about this meeting. While you were preparing for a scolding, he was preparing for a confession. 

“Is that so?” You murmur and attempt to hide your face from his stare. Lucifer gently cups your cheek and your skin burns underneath his gloved fingertips. The flustered state of your appearance nearly makes the man coo. 

“It is.” He confirms and dips his head to rest his forehead against your own. Lucifer doesn’t expect anything in return from you, just getting to express his desires to you is more than enough. “I apologize that I took so long to come to terms with it.” 

Deep down, the two of you always knew that you shared a mutual adoration for one another. 

With a slight tilt of your head, you brush your lips against his cheek. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer warns as his eyes flutter shut. If you continue to be so soft with him, to love on him so kindly, the demon can’t be responsible for how he responds. “do you think I would be satisfied with such a sweet kiss?”

His hands tighten against your jaw before pulling your chin downwards, allowing his lips to brush against your own. 

“Please allow me to shower you with my love for tonight.”

. . .

2023/02/07 ♡

[eashn]

hi, i loved ur hq headcanons! 🥹 can i request pegging oikawa? dw if u dont wanna write it!! thank u 😋

hey there, i’m so glad to hear you enjoyed!!! and YES most certainly—i just know that mfer would be the absolute BRATTIEST at first but so easy to wear down. this is more like the foreplay to pegging more than actual pegging itself, but i hope it sort of matches what you were expecting! enjoy <3

pegging oikawa tōru

word count: ~0.7k

warnings: NSFW/sexual content, fem!reader, bondage (oikawa in handcuffs), anal fingering, strap-on, a single ass slap, slight feature of my size kink because he is 6 FUCKING FEET TALL, swearing, bratty!oikawa

“Ngh—you got me in a…predicament here, sweetheart,” Oikawa groaned.

You said nothing, shoving his face into the mattress. With the other hand, you yanked his arms behind his back. 

“Watch the face,” he said muffledly. 

“Shut up,” you replied, looping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

He was on his knees before you, stripped naked and sticking his ass up sweetly in the air. “Hmph!” he cried, the sound high, irritating, and utterly childish. Twisting his neck around in your grasp, he pouted dramatically over his shoulder, making a show of squirming around in the cuffs. 

As if he hadn’t asked for this himself. 

Since that first time—when Oikawa Tōru quietly, blushingly admitted the kind of fantasies he touches himself to late at night—he’d been pretty straightforward about all this. “I want you to fuck me in the ass like I’m your little bitch, Y/N,” he’d said, not fifteen minutes ago. And now, here he was: all sulky and petulant, grumbling about this and that while simultaneously, his puckered hole was tensing around nothing, begging to be filled. God, he was difficult. 

“Y’know,” he smirked up at you, face half-smushed into the sheets, “if it was me doing the fucking, I wouldn’t have needed these.” He rattled the handcuffs to prove his point. “I’d just hold that little cunt down with my bare hands, wouldn’t I, baby? Doesn’t that embarrass you?”

You stared quietly down at him for a moment. For you knew what he was doing: fighting you for dominance to make it seem like he was the one in control. It was a last-ditch effort to regain a shred of his own dignity. 

But.

“No,” you answered. “I’m not embarrassed, Tōru. Know why?”

You didn’t wait for his reply. You simply tightened the grip you had in those soft, brown curls and yanked his head toward you. He hissed. And, leaning in, you whispered in his ear: 

“Because I’m not the one that’s on my knees.” 

Oh, he whined at that—he whimpered and moaned nonstop the second you let go and started lubing up his clenching hole. He shuddered as you kneaded his pretty, pale skin, and he gasped when you slapped one pert asscheek. One of your hands stayed at his rim, carefully working at the taut ring of muscle. He buried his face back in the sheets when you started inching a finger inside. 

“Please,” he grunted, working himself back against your hand. 

“What was that?” you asked. 

“W-want…more—please.”

“Aw,” you tsked. And because he asked nicely, you worked another finger into him, gently stroking his stretched-tight walls as he moaned with relief. “What were you saying earlier? You gonna ‘hold me down with your bare hands’? Huh, baby?” You picked up the pace of your fingers, and a wail tumbled from Oikawa’s lips.

“I don’t know,” you drawled, “Looks to me like you’re stuck, Tōru. God—look at you. So big and powerful and you’re begging for me, aren’t you? Got you tied up—slick and ready, ass in the air. Gonna fuck you boneless, babe.”

Shit. It was getting to you, too: the sight of him sweaty and plaint beneath you had heat pooling in your core, dripping out onto the bed. You had to be quick—get him close, pound him into the mattress for a bit, till he was pleading for release—then you’d deny him. Make him finish you off instead. He whined as you eased your fingers out of his ass. You squeezed another glob of lube into your palm and, wrapping your hand around the thick shaft of the strap-on fastened to your hips, you smeared it up and down. You guided its tip to the back of Oikawa’s thigh.

“You’re not gonna survive this, Tōru,” you whispered darkly. Hunching over him, you leaned into his ear again. “I’m gonna wreck that little hole tonight.” 

Then, your free hand snaked around to his stomach. You grasped his twitching cock, spreading the dribbling precum across his tip with your thumb. Oikawa whimpered.

“Wr-wreck me,” he mumbled, voice desperate and warbly. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into his hair. 

“Good boy,” you murmured, sliding the strap into his wet, ready hole.

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed!

requests for haikyuu drabbles/headcannons are WIDE OPEN; please drop by with your ideas!!!! and follow @eashn for more :)