#what if hes like. shut down your whole operation

[pacofprunes]

OPERATION, SMILE: GUYS LIKE FLOWERS TOO!

daeho x reader, daeho has been having a hard time since the games. you force him to go out and breathe a little and have a “little” gift for him.

ever since daeho had come back from those games he told you about, he doesn’t want to leave his house. he was so happy to be back near you again and to have you with him, but the trauma made him push everyone out and pack himself up in his room. you’d been dropping him off food and he always made sure to thank you but you couldn’t let him destroy himself like this. not any longer. you missed seeing his bright smile and receiving his tight hugs, you were going to get daeho back.

daeho had been ignoring texts, refusing to pick up his phone. but when you called and he saw your name on the phone, he couldn’t ignore it. you knew that, so you send a call his way. it was on the very last ring that he finally picked up the phone. you speak first.

“baby?”

he does a simple hum in response. you huff and decide to just force him to go out.

“we’re going out tonight, okay? the coffee shop right across from my place, alright? love you!”

he goes to speak but you quickly cut him off by hanging up the phone. he would never stand you up, you knew that. he debated on just texting you that he couldn’t go, but he decided he’d push through for you. you sounded so happy on the phone, he couldn’t shut you down.

you put your phone on the table side and smile proudly. you knew he could easily text you no, but you chose to ignore that. you go into your closet, already knowing what you were gonna choose and put on a simple white spring dress. sure it would be night, but it would still be somewhat warm, you’d push through for daeho. you don’t do much with your hair, styling it simple before you stuff your phone in your purse, grab some money, put on your shoes, and run out your house with excitement to the next part of your operation.

you entered the flower shops doors, the bell ringing as you step in. a women greets you.

“hi, how are you?”

“good! i’m looking for a huge bouquet of flowers. like, seriously. the absolute biggest that you have.”

she smiles at you, asking you a few questions about why you need such a big bouquet, and you gladly answer. the bouquet was bigger than your head, and honestly kind of hard to carry and was very expensive. but it was worth it. you wanted to hide the flowers from daeho so you decide to arrive kind of early to the coffee shop, finding a seat and placing the flowers under the table. as time goes on waiting for him, you pray he shows up. you didn’t think he’d stand you up, but then again, he was different now. you take a deep breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts, putting your faith in him. you pull out your phone to make sure he didn’t text you cancelling, thankfully he didn’t. you get a glass of water and hold it tightly in your hands with anticipation.

after what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the coffee shops doors open and he walks through. he finally looked a little put together since the whole ordeal and your eyes immediately light up at the sight. you quickly stand up once he notices you and he walks towards your table and you pull him into a tight hug. he stands there, slightly shocked before wrapping his arms around you, slowly reciprocating. he pulls away and looks you in the eyes.

“you look pretty.”

you smile back at him shyly.

“and you look handsome.”

you run a hand through his hair before pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lip and signaling for him to sit at the table, hoping he doesn’t kick the bouquet as he sits. the food and the drinks were already on the table, you knew what he liked, so you had it all ready for him. he took a bite of the food as you two sat in silence. you were gonna speak but he decided to first.

“i appreciate this a lot. i know i haven’t been the best to you lately..”

you reach across the table and grab his hand, rubbing a thumb his fingers.

“you don’t need to apologize. i just want you to at least feel a little better.”

he looks up at you and gives you a light smile.

“i do feel better. it feels nice to go out again, especially like this. it felt like i was going on a first date with you again, i was freaking out a little bit.”

he rubs the back of his neck with his other hand and you laugh.

“well i’m glad you feel better. it’s nice to see you like this too.”

you take your hand off of his and start eating your food, having small conversations with him. you wanted to cry happy tears, it was so nice to have things like this again. finally having conversations with him again, getting to see him care about himself, seeing him care about you.

“i can pay.”

you scoff at him.

“well, i already paid, so try again!”

he frowns at you.

“i have the money, baby, let me pay you back.”

he goes to reach for his pocket but you practically jump over the table and smack his hand before sitting back down.

“i’m not taking your money. if you secretly give it to me somehow, i’m going to lock it away and never ever use it even if i really need it.”

he furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head before laughing. saying you’re ridiculous and then you start laughing as well. you two finally finish everything and he stands up, reaching a hand out to you to help you up. you go to accept it but you pull back, causing him to have a worried look on his face, asking what was wrong.

“you go out first! and when the coffee shop doors open don’t turn around to face me, okay? i have something you can’t see.”

he still looks confused, but he nods before walking outside. you wait until he’s fully out the door and you see him standing by a bench. that’s when you reach under the table and pick up the bouquet and stand up. you struggle to see where you’re going but you yell a thank you to an employee before walking out the door and going right behind daeho, almost dropping the flowers.

“okay, you can turn around now.”

he jumps as he hadn’t realized you were behind him, lightly laughing at himself before he turns around, stunned.

“do you like them?”

you peek your head out from behind the bouquet, consisting of shades of reds and pink flowers with few white roses sprinkled in, wrapped in a white and gray-ish blue paper.

“wow…”

he slowly grabs the bouquet out of your hands before you play with your fingers, nerves getting the best of you as you hope that he likes them. he just stares at them before you realize there’s tears starting to roll down his cheeks, causing you to frown at him, cupping his face in one of your hands, he pulls you into a side hug as to not crush the flowers, mumbling a very broken up thank you, as if he was holding in a sob. he places the bouquet on the bench next to you two and cups your face in his hands now before pulling you into a deep kiss. it lasted a long time too. his tears slipping onto your lips, him kissing you like you were his last breath before pulling away, more tears slipping out.

“thank you so much, i don’t even know what i can say, baby—”

you pull him into a tight hug, rubbing his back.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

he squeezes you tighter before moving his hand up to your head and rubbing his fingers through your hair.

“i swear i’ll be better. i love you so much.”

you pull away and cup his face, looking intensely into his eyes.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be there with you every step of the way, my love.”

he smiles at you and presses a kiss to your forehead before picking up the bouquet and walking with you home, an arm over your shoulder the whole walk in a comfortable silence before he speaks.

“do you— do you wanna stay over tonight?”

you stop in your tracks, causing him to almost trip over his feet and you laugh. you used to stay over all the time with him, it’d been forever since he asked you that question, and you were absolutely thrilled.

“i’d love to.”

[realtapiocafan]

hiiiiiii i was reading your tags from the fic snippet and learned something new in that i did not Know ja’marr moved to dallas omgg 😀 can u provide some more info on this ✍🏿✍🏿✍🏿

Ofc! (This is long)

So from what I gather, after opting out, Ja'Marr went back home (Harvey, Louisiana - close to NOLA) until about November, when he moved to Dallas to get ready for the draft. In the Najee-Jaylen-Ja'Marr house thing they did (which includes what Pro Day was like post-COVID and has some other videos about the draft itself), Ja'Marr says himself that he hasn't actually been at the LSU campus ever since he opted out. (Also if you look at his twitter, he was live-tweeting LSU games lol).

Everything else below are articles mentioning Ja'Marr going to Dallas, as well as some other information regarding COVID-era Ja'Marr, sprinkled with my own little comments in between 🙂

So first off, the Dallas thing is specifically mentioned in this article by the Advocate (I'm going to include the necessary paragraphs bc some of these are paywalled smh)

There were more uncertain times, too. Chase opted out of the 2020 season during preseason camp last year, a time in which the pandemic was surging and there was tension in the football operations building after a mishandled team meeting regarding the team's player-led march amid national protests against police brutality. Chase told reporters at LSU's Pro Day that his decision to leave was because "I had a lot of stuff going on with my family at the time." Chase dedicated his time toward becoming a professional. From November until March, he lived and worked out at the EXOS training facility in Dallas. After almost a year out of public sight, he coolly ran a 4.38-second 40-yard dash at pro day — an impressive enough time that Jimmy said coaches and trainers told Ja'Marr he could shut it down. "I came here to put on a show," Ja'Marr told them, then proceeded to run routes and individual drills.

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The Athletic (which i honestly trust more) goes more into detail into Ja'Marr's exact location. Apparently, Ja'Marr moved from Baton Rouge back home (it sounds like it was about September). Then in November, he went to Dallas. This article also includes some more information on Ja'Marr's experience in quarantine. That quote by Ja'Marr's dad really opened my eyes, because Ja'Marr was never really alone before this. He was always part of a team, always surrounded by people until... well, he wasn't. (Also now that I think about it, Ja'Marr did say he started watching tape because of Joe and apparently spent most of this year -which was away from Joe- watching tape... maybe it reminded him of Joe 👀)

Ja’Marr stayed in Baton Rouge initially after opting out in August. He remained close with his teammates, especially the receiving corps at first. But once the season cranked up, Ja’Marr moved back home, feeling a sense of isolation without football... “We kept him close to home. We noticed that he was struggling a little bit. Life without football. Life without a team. His whole life changed. It was his first time not playing sports since he was a young kid. Gamedays were the hardest day.” One thing jumped out to Jimmy as they watched games together, though. He never fully grasped his son’s football IQ. “We watched the games with him,” Jimmy said. “He would call the plays before the snap was gone.  And he would say how Terrace (Marshall) needs to do this because the defense is about to do this. And Racey (McMath) needs to do this so he needs to watch out for this. He’d call the play and I was like, ‘Damn!’ It would happen just like he said. So sitting out actually helped in that sense. He never really watched football. He was always playing. Now all he could do was watch it. He told me and I saw how much it helped him.” Watching games with Ja’Marr, his parents sensed his pent-up energy. He was healthy, but he wasn’t playing. The energy fed right into Ja’Marr’s passion for working out. He’d run to the gym often after games to let that energy free. The regimented workout routine really kicked up about six months ago. “He’s been at EXOS (A Dallas-based training facility) since November,” Jimmy said. “They had an opt-out session group that started out where they would work out three days a week. So he started out there at the end of October or early November. That lasted until the end of December. Then in January, he started getting into the more combine workouts. He’s been working hard and getting stronger. That’s really the only thing that’s been keeping him sane is working. That’s all he could do.”

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This Sports Illustrated article further confirms he was in Dallas for at least part of 2020-2021. It also adds that Ja'Marr was so pent-up that he apparently wanted to opt back in (probably bothered by LSU being kinda shit that year -that third game, LSU lost 45-41 💀).

He spent the off-year training in Dallas, studying film and watching his former college teammates struggle through to a 5-5 COVID-impacted 2020 season. What many don’t know, his dad says, is Chase nearly returned to LSU midseason. “People don’t realize how close he was to coming back,” Jimmy says. “After the third game, he was watching and jumped off the sofa after they lost. He said ‘I’m about to opt back in!’ It was killing him.” The family seriously explored whether Chase would have been eligible to return (Jimmy says Ja’Marr would have) and spoke to coaches at length about his reinstatement. In the end, Ja’Marr remained on the sidelines. 

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This Washington Post article also goes more into depth about the impact COVID had on Ja'Marr's family and what went into the decision to opt-out (Ja'Marr apparently has a hole in his heart which SHOCKED me the first time I read it) (It also goes the most in depth into Ja'Marr's aghast reaction at Les Miles saying he should be a DB and why Ja'Marr didn't want to commit to LSU at first)

But that March, Jimmy Chase says, their family began suffering from flu-like symptoms, and older son Jimmy Jr. and Toleah would be hospitalized with what they later learned was covid-19. “I was like: Shake it off, man,” Jimmy Chase Sr. says. “I can’t die now.” During a most unpredictable spring, when the coronavirus pandemic paused sports and shut down the world, the Chase family survived but eventually learned about “long covid” and the heart and respiratory problems some patients reported. Jimmy Chase says his son’s heart problem has healed, but it remained a frightening preexisting condition and again placed the father and son on opposite sides of a tense debate.

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Last thing, if you were wondering about the team meeting in the first article, here's what information i found. Again, I don't know how reliable The Advocate actually is and unlike the article above, this is literally the only source I found that mentions this. I don't recall Ja'Marr or any other LSU players saying anything remotely negative about Orgeron - most of them say he was a great coach!

(At the same time, an old white guy giving ... maybe not racist, but tone-deaf advice to a bunch of college-aged black men, in the height of Black Lives Matter -it's not out of the question.)

Multiple sources told The Advocate that team morale turned south before the season even began, when a large group of players felt Orgeron mishandled a team meeting regarding the team's player-led march in August amid national protests against police brutality. The players skipped practice that day, met outside Tiger Stadium and marched to the university president's office without Orgeron, who later told reporters he didn't know about the protest before it happened. Orgeron met up with the players at the president's office and took part in a meeting that lasted about an hour. He later told reporters he and the players talked "about the things they're going through and how we can be a part of the solution." Privately, the meeting did not come off as productive as described. Orgeron and some players were upset during the meeting, multiple sources said, and while some players said the situation could've been handled better by all sides, other players left feeling Orgeron wasn't supportive. Three days after the meeting, star wide receiver Ja'Marr Chase announced he was opting out of the season, joining starting nickel safety Kary Vincent in preparing for the NFL draft. By the end of the week, starting nose tackle Tyler Shelvin opted out as well.

[kitkat13001]

Hi Kitty! For your Like a Song event, can you do:

Tomura Shigaraki - "If I could build for you, a magic retreat from seasons that break your bones, trust me I'd live to." (All Warm - Armor for Sleep)

Thank you so much!!

❥ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒

if i could build for you, a magic retreat from seasons that break your bones, trust me i’d live to

“that mission was shit,” you grumble, kicking your shoes off and stretching your sore body out on the bed. 

the whole operation had gone sideways, and the league had to split in order to avoid apprehension. for all your grouchiness, though, you’re glad you and tomura weren’t separated in the chaos. 

“yeah,” he agrees, heaving a sigh and dropping down to sit beside you. his head is heavy when it meets your shoulder, but the weight of it is somehow comforting. 

it could have been worse. it could have been a lot worse. 

the sentiment brings a little smile to your face, makes the warmth of tomura’s fingers on yours more tangible somehow. 

your pinkies remain interlocked as you both fall back on the bed, decompressing after the chaos of the day. you turn your head to look at tomura, smile widening just a bit as you admire his side profile from where he’s staring up at the ceiling. 

he catches your gaze out the corner of his eye, brows pinching together as you stare at him. 

“what?”

“nothing. just looking at you.”

he wrinkles his nose at you, red faced. “you’re so corny.”

you just smile right back, not bothering with a response. you know he loves it, even if he’d choke before admitting it. you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he’s got you wrapped up in his arms before you get the chance. 

you stifle a laugh into his sweater sleeve, his nose tickling you where his face is buried in you neck.

“shut up and go to sleep already. today’s been too long.”

you hum in agreement, squirming in his arms until you’re comfortable, safe in his embrace once more. 

hi jade, thanks sm for the request! hope you like it 🩷🩷 - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[mochayoubi]

the president of my university's official japanese learning club wants to meet with me in his office about my 会話テーブル and i am afraid

[archangeldyke-all]

Roach verse idea:

So Sevika needed a raise. Silco needed a Santa for The Last Drop and Jinx.

The solution was obvious.

Now she’s in a hot ass suit, Roach is watching her from the bar whilst Jinx is just side-eyeing her all like ‘I KNOW ITS YOU’ like. Then with a lot of convincing, Jinx tells Santavika what she wants for Christmas.

Now Silco has his list of items and Sevika gets a raise to spoil her wonderful, lovely, beautiful girlfriend. All is well.

fucking hilarious

men and minors dni

all she fucking wanted was a winter bonus.

ever since you came around, the last drop has been getting increasingly festive with each holiday that passes. it's just the kind of person you are, everywhere you go you make people happy. this year, you even managed to convince silco to have a christmas party-- shutting the bar down and decorating it for the evening; a gift exchange planned and cookies baked for the gang.

sevika adores you for it, and for a million other reasons. and she wants to spoil you endlessly. but silco pays like shit, and jinx is always stealing sevika's pocket change before she can stash it in her change jar.

so, she asked for a bonus to close out the year.

she'd say she deserves it. this year alone, she put three competing shimmer operations out of business, managed to rig two piltover elections, and she killed like eight people for silco. or was it nine...?

either fucking way-- sevika's determined to get her money.

unfortunately for her, silco's in his own holiday predicament.

jinx, almost eleven now, has become increasingly suspicious of santa claus. it's not that the girl ever really believed-- but now that she's a sweaty, hormonal tween, she no longer feels comfortable sitting on some old man's lap and whispering all her secret wants in his ear. so, she refused to go to the promenade with silco this year to see santa.

so silco has no idea what to get his daughter for the holiday-- and he's desperate for a clue.

which is how sevika finds herself here, in an itchy white beard and a red suit, glaring at the gang as they laugh at her from her perch in her 'santa seat.'

she's gonna fucking kill silco. after he pays her, too.

"where's that jolly smile, mr. claus?" lock asks, approaching sevika with a grin. she glares up at him.

"i'm not letting you sit in my fuckin' lap."

"relax." lock laughs. he reveals a glass of whiskey from behind his back. sevika sighs in relief, taking the drink from lock. "where's your mrs. claus?"

"upstairs with jinx. the kid's dressing as a christmas tree, or something."

lock cackles.

you and jinx join the party eventually, jinx covered in green tinsel, ornaments braided into her hair. you burst into laughter at the sight of sevika, and she sighs.

"look at you, baby!" you laugh.

sevika grunts. "come sit on my lap before i die of humiliation."

you giggle, happily skipping over to her to wrap your arms around her shoulders. "how'd silco talk you into this?"

"i'm getting a winter bonus." she says. you scoff.

"what the fuck? where's my winter bonus?"

sevika chuckles. "baby, i'm spending the bonus on you."

"well what am i gonna spend on you?!"

sevika darts forward to kiss you, forgetting the beard she's wearing. you both groan and sputter, spitting white hairs out of your mouths.

"alright, santa baby. you stay here. i'll go get us some drinks and send jinx over."

sevika rolls her eyes. "this whole thing is fucking ridiculous. you have to know what she wants, why don't you just tell silco?"

"'course i do, but i also think this whole thing is the funniest thing that's happened this year and it's tradition."

sevika tries her best to act annoyed, but she can't keep from smiling when you shoot her a wink and blow her a kiss as you walk away.

jinx is glaring at sevika the entire time she's in her lap.

"this is fucking stupid." she mumbles. sevika chuckles.

"you're not the one wearing the fake beard. just hurry up and make your old man happy so we can get this night over with."

"fine. this year i want an updated encyclopedia set, a new microscope, and i wanna be able to say 'fuck' around silco." she lists off.

sevika cackles. "alright. i'll see what i can do, kid."

jinx chuckles and tugs on sevika's beard. "thanks old man." she mutters. "aren't you gonna 'ho ho ho?'"

sevika glares at jinx and the girl cackles, scrambling out of her lap before she can grab her.

just as she's about to get up and take off this ridiclious fucking costume, you plop back down in her lap, wearing a new outfit.

sevika's heart soars.

you're wearing a matching santa hat and a little red apron with fuzzy white lining. you're the perfect mrs. clause, and you've brought her whiskey.

"please help me get this beard off so i can kiss you." she whines. you laugh, reaching up to pull the fake beard off her chin. sevika sighs in relief, itching her face before reaching forward and downing her whiskey.

"better?" you ask.

sevika just smiles at you, putting her glass to the side so she can pull you in for a kiss with both hands.

you groan against her lips, flinging your arms around her shoulders and moving to straddle her legs.

across the bar, silco shrieks; scandalized. "you're supposed to sit in santa's lap, not grind on it!"

ran, lock, and deckard erput into cheers at the sight of you two.

jinx ducks behind the bar to grab a glass of ice water to toss on the pair of you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[milkywayes]

We all know the endless frustration of Garrus calibrating in ME2, but the whole situation just tugs at my heartstrings. Not just that he’s trying to keep busy to distract himself from grieving the incredible loss of his team, which he believes to be his fault by turian standards, but just:

“Shepard. Need me for something?” -> [hurriedly and dejectedly declines a personal conversation] -> “I’ll be here if you need me.”

That.

Something about the way he phrases it around need. It gives me the strong impression that he’s not just shutting himself down for his own sake so he doesn’t have to deal with messy grief and self-recrimination and burning, wounded anger before he can do something about it. He’s shutting himself down so he can work. He’s shutting himself down because once he starts actually grieving and processing, it’s over—his productivity, his clarity of mind, his usefulness to Shepard’s team on a suicide mission.

His usefulness to her, full stop.

Shepard has made clear from the start of their reacquaintance that she is depending on him. Someone I trust at my side. He’s got her six. His whole raison d’être, at this point, is to support her and be an asset to her mission. The only reason he is alive, right now, is because she needed him for her mission, and he knows it.

He will not let her down. Not like he let his team down—by ‘letting his feelings get in the way of his better judgment.’ He will not let it happen. He will be there if she needs him, he will be there to depend on, and he will operate as a repressed damn shell of himself in order to do that and be that person for her.

I’ll be here if you need me. Please don’t ask me how I’m doing because if you do, chances are I no longer can, and then what’s the point of me? But I’ll be here. You can depend on that.

And then there’s his action plan for Sidonis, and there’s a lot I could say about that would make this post way too long (turian society: living in service of the collective, the absolute taboo of ‘compromising your team,’ blame lying on the superior officer - and Garrus’ personal crusade: uncompromising justice) all of which play heavily into why he’s trying to execute the guy, but there might also be a note of efficiency in there.

One shot, and then it’s over, and he can be there fully for Shepard. One shot. One inhale, one squeezed trigger, and it’s done, and he can tie up the case and put all his energy into something else: their mission. It’s neat and clean… and not effective and bad for him in the long-term. He might not admit this to himself, and it might take a clear head to come to the conclusion, but the thing is—I’m not sure it matters to him. What matters is that he gets the affair dealt with swiftly so he can do his damn job. For Shepard.

Luckily for him, chances are that it does matter to Shepard. Because for all that he’s locked himself away, she sees him as a friend—or more. Because even when he’s turned her away every single time, she wants him to be better. Because she cares for him more than she cares about his usefulness.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him. 

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move. 

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white. 

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now. 

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace. 

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one. 

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead. 

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[messenger-of-babel]

Make it Better

Summary: You wanted to be better for him, but maybe better wasn't what he wanted.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Argghhh I had a chance to cook, and chat, I fear I fumbled. Through two rounds of drafting too,. Ah well, I solemnly swear to do more Dick content regardless. 😤

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You smoothed down your clothes, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your forehead was creased lightly in worry, fingers playing with your hair as you tried to get it to sit right. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to look the way you wanted. You didn't like the jewellery you wore, or the way you had done your hair. Your clothes seem wrinkled in the light no matter how many times you undressed to steam them, and the vibrant blue you wore seemed to be wearing you instead. You sigh, head coming to thump against the mirror.

You swear you had tried to do better than this.

It was always the same pit of nervousness that came off of going to one of the Wayne Family Gala's, so deep and endless in your stomach it felt like the rest of you would just fall through. Not only that, but you were also on the arm of one of the heirs of Gotham, one of the princes whose face was on every magazine cover and every second teenager’s bedroom wall.

Dealing with cameras that flashed nonstop, light so blinding you thought it had been daylight the first time you experienced it. A red carpet walk that felt like a vulture's strip, your name being screamed at by faceless reporters, microphones and cameras waving over the red rope stanchions to try and pry your comment from you. It was all so overwhelming, the sounds and lights. You surely would have collapsed the first time, if it hadn't been the comforting weight that slipped around your waist, and the dazzling smile that took the heat off you.

Dick's hand always knew how to keep you grounded during those events, tracing small shapes into your waist and turning you so he could take the brunt of the cameras. Waving to every news reporter and journalist frothing at the mouth for his statement, always offering some upbeat support for whatever the cause was, while they wrote it like the word of God. The same hand that would guide you through the doors of the venue and out of reach of the squabble outside, looking down at you with the boyish blue eyes you adored and white grin stretched across his face.

"You okay?" he'd ask softly, and you always nodded. The tension in your body melted away when his eyes searched yours so earnestly, trying to pick apart if you were lying. His own worry always seemed to dwarf your own, making you smile as you reassured him that you were fine.

You wanted to get better this time.

So, when you arrived for the Christmas Ball held by the Mayor in the Park, you had already prepped yourself. Dick had come to collect you in his car, smile bright and dazzling when he saw you. It was like he saw past all the flaws you could highlight in your outfit, not caring that the shade of blue you were wearing didn't match his tie exactly, and that despite all your efforts your hair refused to co-operate. He made no comment on your jewellery despite how you felt that the silver you picked didn't match with the rest of what you were wearing, or that it clashed with the gold on your shoes. He just opened the car door for you, kissing your cheek as his hand came to the middle of your back where it belonged.

"You look amazing." he hummed; eyes bright as he shut your door for you. You smiled weakly back in response, tension easing slightly. he could tell your anxiety hadn't gone down, evident in the way his thumb drew circles on your thigh, one hand resting there while the other gripped the wheel. Your hands felt cold despite the car's heater going full blast, and your cheeks were numb. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole again, adrenaline running through your body like you were fighting for your life. It made your throat close up, worsening as the car rolled to a stop.

"You going to be okay?" he asks softly, hand coming to gently cup your face. You nod, although your smile was tense.

You could do better. This night was going to be fine.

"Yeah. I'm ready." you reply back, the clamouring of reporters and the frantic clicking of shutters were dulled while you were in the car, but you knew it would turn into a roar the second the seal of the door cracked. "We'll make the entry quick; I promise." he smiles, hurrying out from the driver’s seat to come to your door, the paparazzi outside growing ten times louder now that a prince of Gotham has shown his face.

Like the true gentleman he is, he offered his hand to help you climb out from the passenger’s side, broad shoulders blocking most of the flashes aimed your way. You tilt your head up, and your breath is stolen for a moment.

"Good?" he mouths to you, and you wordlessly nod. Illuminated by the flashes of the cameras behind him he looked heaven sent, a bright halo ghosting over the contours of his face and the dip of his cupid's bow. You nod, and he brings you out in front of the crowd. The flashes blind you as usual, but you do your best to send a few smiles their way, waving at a couple of reporters that make you pose together for photos. A perfect couple, that's what you tried to be. Tried to be someone worth standing next to the human turned angel next to you.

You hold yourself together, feeling more and more confident as you walk your way down the carpet, until you’re out of sight. You turn to him now hidden behind the privacy of the event doors, beaming up at him. He reciprocates his smile, hands settling onto your hips as he pulls you close for only a moment. "Getting the hang of it I see," he teases, "I told you; you were made for the spotlight."

He chuckles at the light flush that envelops your features, arm looped with yours as he guides you into the ballroom.

That one comment makes you feel on top of the world, inspiring you to come out of your shell and mingle with everyone, glass in your hand. You felt seen, branching off for conversations and even getting along well with some of his brothers as they arrive. The anxiety smooths out from your forehead, shoulders relaxing and smiles coming more easily.

That was until you saw her.  More accurately, until you saw him looking at her.

Barbara entered the ballroom, clad in a beautiful, deep purple dress and her gorgeous orange hair falling down her back. Your shoulders raised again, fingers tightening on the glass flute uncomfortably.

She was gorgeous, of course. You told her any time you saw her around, since she was still invited to the family dinners every couple of months. Tense smiles swapped between you both, with conversation just polite enough to cover any awkwardness. Were you apprehensive when you started dating Dick and he told you that they were still friends? of course you were. Was it a worry when they had “work” discussions you weren’t allowed to be in? You had cried over some of those nights.  But his smile was charming, and he treated you like you were his earth.

Well, if you were his earth, he was looking at her like she was his sun.

You swear you could see galaxies in the deep blue of his eyes, stars in the smile that fell across his face when she waved at him. Even when she disappeared into the sea of rich Gothamites, his eyes sought her out like an asteroid in orbit. Everything felt like it was collapsing around you, spotlight of confidence cut off and leaving a cool chill across your skin.

Your clothes felt itchy and off colour again, jewellery felt cheap. Your shoes didn't fit right, and your hair looked unflattering in the window reflections. Like Cinderella your clock had struck midnight, except you hadn't even gotten to dance yet. Your stomach rolled, butterflies from before attaching to your sides and cocooning again, going still. Your heart felt heavy, sitting low in your throat and preventing you from calling his name. He looked so spellbound, so full of longing in the way that his lip’s part softly in a sigh.

When he blinks it's like he comes out of a trance and he takes a moment to collect himself again, hand coming to rest once more on your waist. He looks down at you, and you take in his features again. The starlight in his eyes has dulled, his smile still soft but nowhere near as radiant. You had no idea if he realised what he had done, if he was aware of the way he radiated sunlight simply from looking at her. "Let's go get something to eat, dinner will be served soon." he grins, leading you along after your tight-lipped smile and nod. He grinned at the high class he passed, politely navigating them with you at his side completely unknowing that they'd all witnessed his visible adoration. Oblivious himself to the fact that his heart was still in love with the commissioner’s daughter, despite having you by his side.

You wanted to it to all get better, and for a moment it had.

However, as he pulled out your chair for you and you made eye contact with the gorgeous, green eyed woman across from you, the reality sank in that no matter how much you wanted to do better, you would never be able to do better than the memory of her.

[pedropascallovebot]

Challenging

Luigi Mangione x reader

✧˖°.

a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened

cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here

⋆˙⟡

It had started off as a joke, really.

Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.

It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.

No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.

You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.

Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.

You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.

He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.

Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.

You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.

"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.

He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.

That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.

Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.

When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.

"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.

Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"

You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.

"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.

"Lay back for me."

He obeys.

Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.

"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.

"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.

"Hmm?"

You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.

"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.

Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.

"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"

You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.

Not yet. Not yet.

You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.

Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.

"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.

He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.

Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.

You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.

"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.

"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"

Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.

"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.

He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.

You don't think you've ever been this wet.

When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.

"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."

You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."

Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.

However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.

You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.

He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-

You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.

"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.

It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.

You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.

"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.

You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.

So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.

Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.

When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..

"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.

He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.

You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.

"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.

When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.

"There you are."

He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.

"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.

Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.

"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.

"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: So this is kind of a Part 1 of a whole chapter because i wanted to give you guys something. So the next chapter will have a bit more going on, hope you enjoy this for now! Excited for any comments or theories you guys have about what's going to happen 💕

-🐺-

The major opened the door slowly and then gently closed it shut behind him, sparing a quick glance at you before he walked over to Price’s desk with only a few long strides. He was a tall man with gleaming shoes and a pristine uniform to match, his red hair combed back neatly on top of his head. You took in everything, your breathing almost slowed to a stop while you waited for the news. Only when he sat down at the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Price did he speak. 

“Before I start, I want to say that I know you’re a busy man and that your team are integral to many ongoing operations that are running. However,” the major paused, his accent thickly weaving his words. “After the incident outside your hallway with Second Lieutenant Smith, I’m afraid to say that I must ask you to carve out some time for me.”

Price laughed at that. Not a warm chuckle or a dark little rumble, like you were used to hearing over comms or during training. This was one of disbelief, the little glinting breaths coming through like warning shots. 

“I’d hardly call that an incident, Major. A silly boy decided to test my hybrid and got exactly what he deserved. There ain’t much more to it,” Price grunted.

He straightened his back and leaned over his table, appearing every bit as menacing as you imagined he could be. The way his eyes appeared to darken below his tilted heavy brow were enough to send even you gulping - and you were the one he was defending. The Major didn’t seem to react however, he wasn’t cowed by the show, he merely sniffed and set his own arms on the desk. 

“Ordinarily I’d agree with ye, Price, you know I would. That wasn’t just any boy though, his da’s some parliamentary arsehole and he wants atonement.”

That gave Price pause.

You sucked in a breath and dug your fingers into the couch cushions, feeling the fabric strain and almost give way under your claws. The shaking started seconds later. You were going to be punished after all. 

Who would do the whipping, you wondered, I don’t want it to be any of the boys, definitely not Ghost. A small whine escaped your throat at  the thought of that before you could cram it down. Ghost was supposed to be safe. The idea that he’d be the one looming over you and raining down pain on your back left your throat feeling crushingly tight. 

“You’re not laying a finger on my wolf, do you hear me?” Price said, his voice so low he might as well have growled at the Major. 

His. The way he said it was so possessive compared to the way you normally heard that, the way that Ghost usually said it. Ghost’s good Pup. His sweet thing. Price said that you were his with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Like something was threatening to drag you off into the unknown. 

“Look I’m not gonna bullshit you here. I tried insisting on something like committed service hours, guard duty or sniffing - that sort of thing. He wasn’t going for it. The problem isn’t so much with what the hybrid did - it’s your Lieutenant he wants to prove a point to most of all. He wants Ghost to know he can’t get away with insulting his family.” 

“So what? He wants Ghost punished?” Price snorted, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You gonna string him up to the post and all are ya?”

The major sighed deeply and rubbed his brow. 

“No ones getting strung up, don’t jump to conclusions. He said that he wants the hybrid locked down for a week, they’re to be placed with the Smith boy’s squad and kenneled, only to be removed should a mission arise where the hybrid’s presence is essential…now, before you go thinking that you can conjure up some kind of week long escapade, he explicitly stated the sentence is to pause while away and resume on return.”

I’d rather be whipped bloody, you thought. The exact thing you were afraid of was coming to fruition. You were to be stripped of what you’d come to love and return to your old way of life, worse still was the thought that you didn’t even know what the kennels were like in your new base, didn’t know if they could extend your stay which would often happen at Branhaven. There was every chance you could be stuck with that horrible bastard indefinitely. Ghost had made a point of letting you know that he never intended on punishing you like that, that you wouldn’t while away your hours in a dingy cell block, or be made to face a post ever again. 

The memory of him settling his hand on your shoulder and squeezing ever so gently as he explained his approach to discipline was so strong, you almost felt his spirit lingering there beside you. He’d said he wouldn’t ever put you out in the cold or whip you unless his hand was forced, and even then he insisted he’d fight whoever threatened you. 

Would he fight a major? A politician?

“This is bullshit,” Price scoffed, smacking his hand off his desk and making you jump. “Hobbling my team because his little brat got slapped around is pathetic! What next? Would he like to bend Ghost over while he’s at it? Really, Major, this is a farce.”

“It is, aye. Exactly what happens when you tangle with those sorts, you know that as well as anyone though.”

Price’s face was the dictionary definition of scorn. You shrank back into the sofa, subconsciously trying to become a part of it and escape from all the tension. The major didn’t even wince through it. He faced Price with all the stoicism of a tree on a calm day, but Price continued to rant and plead your case until you thought his red face might start to turn purple. All the while you listened with quick little bursts of scared breath. 

The conversation didn’t go anywhere except against a dead end, ramming over and over into the same conclusion. The major grew tired of Price’s fit and walked out, saying that he’d expect you checked into the kennel’s by the end of the night. He let the threat of what would happen, should he fail to comply, linger somewhere above you - like an anvil - in the air. 

Price growled out a profanity as the door slammed closed. Only when the air had settled and the Major’s presence fully left did he turn to you and soften. His eyes, that had held so much venom, melted from slits and into doleful pools, his taught mouth slackened.

“Pup…” He sighed, looking you over.

He didn’t finish the sentiment. There was a wordless understanding between you both that he didn’t have the vocabulary for the sympathies he wanted to convey. With that quiet look of apology given he sighed out and pressed his head into his palms. 

“Fuckin’ shower of cunts the lot of em.”

Price hadn’t immediately given up of course. He picked up his phone and got to talking to numerous sources, but apparently none of them were of any use. You flinched back from where you were perched every time he hung up his phone with a bang. It almost made you feel sorry for the thing. No matter what arguments were made, no one was willing to hear Price out. That much was clear after he’d clattered down into his old chair like a shot bird. 

You had expected as much.

In the end it was you that convinced Price just to take you to the kennels. Making a point of stressing that it would be far better to go before Ghost could come back. Something within you shook at the idea of being put back into the same horrible place by the same man that had rescued you from there to begin with. At having Ghost have to take the responsibility on his shoulders, once more letting down a hybrid in his care. 

After being checked in and issued a bedroll, it was time to say your good nights. You stared at Price through the doorway of the kennel, biting your frayed lip. No matter what he said, you knew well enough that it was your own stupid stubborn fault that you were back there again - for not just acquiescing to the brat’s commands in the first place. Stunts like that were the exact reason that you had the disciplinary record that you did. Always going against anyone that wanted to shove you down, all in the name of some kind of renegade fantasy that you had any control over your life. Fiercely defending the shreds of your honour as if you hadn’t spent most of your life as a beaten dog. 

Stupid. 

At the very least though, conditions were far better than your old haunt at Branhaven. That was something, you tried to tell yourself. The shiny black sleeping bag they’d given you was plenty thick and there was a groaning old heater that rattled overhead, so that the nipping cold temperatures felt more like being left in a draughty room. Even the construction wasn’t as bad as the other ones, rubber crumb flooring like that of a playground, meant that you wouldn’t get as stiff and a hard fibreglass front over the concrete walls meant that you wouldn’t be exposed to the elements. It was almost possible to think of it like a stay at the worlds worst hotel, rather than a mandated stay in the kennels. 

It wasn’t home, but at least you knew that you’d get to return there as long as you listened and kept your stupid trap shut for once. Home with Ghost. Now that you’d calmed down after the initial shock of being issued the punishment, an internal clock had materialised in your head. The countdown to when you could go home. All you had to do was take your medicine and you could be with Ghost again, everything could go back to how it was. That thought alone was enough to keep the needling panic at the back of your mind firmly restrained there. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Price said, his voice stony and rough. “I don’t wanna leave you here, Pup…I really don’t.”

“Don’t wanna leave me, or don’t wanna have to face Ghost and tell him I’m here?” You said, making an attempt to lift his heavy expression. 

He grunted something that could be interpreted as a bitter chuckle. 

“Neither.”

You smiled a little, but didn’t have it in you to laugh. At seeing your expression, he crossed the threshold between you both and closed his palm over your head. His roughened fingers skimmed over your ears and softly rubbed some of the worry out from deep within your tissue. A proper moment of reprieve settled over your body, loosening tight muscles, before you were forced to part again by the approaching footsteps of the guard.

“Sorry, Sir. I have to lock all the kennels up for the night for lights out,” he explained sheepishly, eyes not fully able to reach Price’s gaze.

Price nodded at him and went to comply, though only after giving you one last ruffle over the ears. He stepped back after and allowed the fibre glass door to snick to a close. Your heart thumped extra loudly while it shut. Price gave you one last mournful look and then told you to get some rest, assuring you that he’d be watching over you even from afar. 

“Good night, Price,” you whispered back, watching his retreating back with sorrow filled eyes.

The guard grunted and double checked the door, ensuring it was locked and rattling the mechanism a few times before he was satisfied. The soft click of metal on metal forced your ears to twitch upward into alert. 

“Get into your bedroll. Light’s out,” the guard said, his voice hardened now that your Captain was gone. “If you cause trouble or give me any crap you’ll be removed for discipline and then returned here. Do you understand?”

“Understood, Sir,” you nodded, unfurling the sleeping bag with a shiver.

The guard allowed you to sort your bedding and once inside the puffy roll of fabric he flicked the light switch and left you bathed in the darkness. He continued down the line from there, the only evidence of his presence, the fading lights down the line and the clicking of switches and doors. 

You whined softly while rubbing your face against the cold fabric below, blanching at the cold rubber flooring. Your heart lurched at the thought of your bed back home. The thought of your cushy blue pillows, Simon’s soft fur, the dialogue unread from the ‘Super-Wolf’ graphic novels by your bed, the smell of rotisserie chicken that was supposed to linger in the air, no where to be found in that sterile place. This was all wrong.

No matter what position you got in, no matter how hard you tried to shut your mind off and return to old coping mechanisms, the idea that you could be safely in your bed weighed on your chest like an elephant. Before you were used to being shoved into a kennel and forgotten about, but now you knew that there was a better life. A life that had been ripped from you.

You wanted to scream, wanted to claw your way out of the sleeping bag and slam yourself against the clear glass like a mad person, wanted to raise hell until you were returned to your rightful place. Though you never followed through. You had to be good now. It was the only thing that would get you home. 

Instead, you let your head loll to the back wall, facing the speckled brick and let loose the tears that you hadn’t wanted Price to have to witness again. Couldn’t have him thinking that you were completely pathetic afterall. The hot paths they left burned against your cold cheeks, though they still couldn’t compete with the heat that filled your aching chest. 

I’ll be with them again. Ghost won’t let me go. 

-🐺-

“Mum…I had a nightmare. The monsters want to take me away.”

Your little tail was pinned fast under your legs, your ears folded so close to your head you could feel the fibres of your hair even through your fur. Blinking back the tears from your eyes, you swallowed and looked up at her imploringly, hoping for a big cuddle just like the ones you’d seen her give to your older sister.

If she knew the meaning in your look, she didn’t show it. She groaned and got up from the couch, mumbling something under her breath before grabbing your wrist and shepherding you back to bed. The long dark corridors of your house seemed all the more haunting at night, the sounds of all the appliances ringing through the walls like wails. You shivered all the way back to your tiny room. Your mum’s iron grip may as well have been a shackle tugging you to prison. 

“Right, get back to sleep. You won’t have another nightmare after you’ve just had one.”

She turned the light on while you sorted yourself, impatiently hovering by the switch until you were lying back in bed and clinging the stuffed dog that your sister hadn’t wanted - had so graciously thrown at you one day - to your chest. His name was faint to you now, a shadow in your anxiety addled mind, what did you call him again? 

“Sleep tight,” she sighed, turning the light out and spiriting out the door. 

You blinked out through the darkness and sighed, curling into a little ball and trying your best to retreat from the leering shadows in the corner of the room. In that darkness your mind created faces, grinning horrible faces that wanted to gobble you up and turn you into mince. Just like the monsters from that horrible movie your dad had watched the night before, completely unaware that you had been hiding under the dining table, trying to avoid your mothers wrath for the milk that you’d spilled before bed.

“Monsters can’t get you here, sweetie,” you whispered to yourself, remembering the calming words you’d overheard in your sister’s room a few nights prior. “Nothing will get you when you’re safely tucked up…snug as a bug in a rug. You have your teddy to protect you, he’ll watch over you all night! Then in the morning everything will be fine again and the sun will be shining.”

The words didn’t seem to hold the same weight when you said them to yourself. They just rang hollow in the static. Perhaps they didn’t work the same since you were different, a half-breed ‘thing’ that no one asked for. Were you worth protecting? Would the sun shine for you in the morning?

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup. Oi. It’s ok, you’re alright. Easy…Easy”

You gulped in a hungry breath of air and opened your eyes, chest absolutely heaving as you fought off the last of the evil spirits that cackled and snapped at your extremities. In all your confusion between sleeping and waking, you couldn’t be sure if the arms that were wrapped around you were real, and if they were, you couldn’t be sure that they were friendly. 

When you whipped round and saw Gaz staring down at you with wide concerned eyes, you still questioned to yourself if you were in another layer of a dream. This couldn’t be right, you thought drowsily. 

“Gaz?” you mumbled, tilting your head when he smiled at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from the bogeyman apparently,” he smirked, ruffling your ears until you swatted his hands away. “That looked like a fuckin’ mental dream, mate.”

“No, Really - what are you doing here?”

You looked around, noting the wide open kennel door and the hazy blue sky beyond, a soft gradient of navy and electric blue sheeted over the fences and trees beyond. It couldn’t be any later than three, maybe four at a stretch. Your sleeping bag was tangled round your ankles and the heater had turned off, but other than that nothing had changed in the kennel. 

All was quiet on base, no cars whizzed by, barely any noise sounded through the crisp morning air. Sleep soon scratched at your eyes, forcing you to rub them and then embarrassingly let loose a high pitched whining yawn that had your face heating like a furnace in embarrassment.

“Aw, you are just a cute Pup, aren’t you?”

“Gaz!” you growled, trying to fix him with a stare serious enough that he would answer. 

It was no use though. He wasn’t Soap, so a little mean look did nothing to wipe the stupid smile of his smug face. Though he did relent when you growled, and when he noticed your darting looks round the opened gate, probably seeing that you were searching for the guard. At that point you’d suspected Gaz had to have stuffed him in a locker or something. 

“Relax, you can stop clutching your pearls. Price has a mission for us.”

“What?” you frowned, thoroughly doubtful, “Really? Right after I got kenneled, huh?”

“Genuinely,” He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe him at first either, but he wasn’t in the mood to piss about and explain himself. Cap said to come get you and load up ASAP, he’ll explain when we’re in the air.”

“We’re flying out?”

“Uh huh. Sooner the better too, can’t believe they made you spend a night in this place. What a fuckin’ joke.”

“Doesn’t feel like a joke to my back,” you ground out, wincing mid stretch when you felt a bone crack and heard the resulting sound. 

“Jesus. You keep making noises like that and they might retire you,” Gaz snorted.

“Ha ha,” you said dryly.

He gave you room to move away from him, allowing you to stand up before looking you over. It was almost comical seeing the way he searched you for any signs of harm, his calculating eyes narrowed as if he were looking for weapons. He paused a moment, only unfreezing when you raised your brows at him and quirked your lips. 

“You solid?” he asked.

“I think so. You?”

“It’s three in the morning and I’m freezing my arse out here instead of being passed out in bed - course I’m not,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and bumped into his side, happily strolling out of the kennel and out into freedom. One night down you, you thought, only six more to go until I get to go back to my bed. At the very least you were happy you wouldn’t have to go to that prick, Smith’s, unit for the day. More than having to be separated from Ghost, you feared what he would do to you while in his care. You strongly suspected he’d have more than a slap lined up for you at that point. 

Gaz lead you to the changing rooms before taking you to the chinook, handing you your gear and waiting on the squeaky wooden benches outside the shower block while you got ready. Then after taking the world’s quickest and coldest shower, trying miserably not to get your hair or fur wet, you stepped out to greet him with gritted teeth and soggy ears. If one thing was abundantly clear then, it was the fact that Ghost had utterly spoiled you. There was no way you could face a cold shower again without thinking about the bathroom at his.

“When I get to go back to Ghost I’m gonna live in that shower,” you huffed, teeth chattering while wrapping yourself up in the big cosy fleece that Ghost had given you a few days before. “I’m gonna stay in there until I turn into a prune and then I’ll make sure that Ghost cans me and traps all the warm condensation in.”

Gaz laughed while watching you lace `up your boots last. Your fingers were shaking still from the bone chilling cold that had seeped through your entire body. It was a wonder that you thankfully managed to finish changing without any help. As much as you had considered pathetically asking him to tie them for you, you werent sure if you could go on soldiering knowing that Gaz had to help you like you were some kind of baby. 

“Pup in a can sounds like a pretty good product. New kind of IED discovered, we can just start lobbing you at the enemy instead of wasting grenades.”

“Lobbing me?” You said in faux shock, flattening your drippy ears. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“What? It’s a pretty solid strategy, would work wonders if we were facing an army of Mactavishes.”

“Gaz!” You squawked, flinging your dirty shirt at him. “Mean!”

He batted it away easily and laughed with you. 

“Oh c’mon. Soap would laugh if he was here.”

“Pfft, Soap here? coming to the kennels? Fat chance.”

“Aw, I’m sure he’d do it for you. His little furball,” Gaz teased, ruffling your ears. “Our fuzzy wuzzy puppy.”

You huffed and shooed his hands away, growling when he went to mess with you again. Gaz didn’t flinch at that, but he did roll his eyes and move back to lean against the wall. He was graciously allowing you to put away the rest of your gear in peace so that you could move out. He grew quiet while you shoved your things into the soft green rucksack, and just as you’d clicked the clasp on your bag closed, he regarded you with a more considering look. 

“What?”

“What?” Gaz returned, folding his arms. 

You frowned. 

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Maybe it’s cause you’re funny,” he shrugged. 

“Shame that you’re not,” you replied dryly. 

“Well shit. Mess with the wolf and you get the fangs, huh?”

“You know it, Garrick.”

-🐺-

The chinook was more comfortable than the kennel. That you figured out after your belly was filled with a fat bacon roll and you had Gaz’s shoulder to lean on. Your eyelids dripped like syrup, lashes fluttering as you listened to Price drone on about the mission over the shaky comms. 

“Pup, are you listening? Knew I shouldn’t have bloody given you breakfast first,” Price admonished. 

You slowly blinked back at him.

“I am,” you huffed out, straightening your back against the chair. “We got evidence of WMD’s in Lata, so we’re gonna go there and secure em with a team from Los Vaqueros forces.”

“Top marks,” Gaz chuckled, ruffling your ears. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“These ears ain’t for nothin’,” you said with a sly grin. 

“Those ears better stay alert,” Price grumbled. “I need you alive and well so Ghost doesn’t disembowel me on return.”

Your ears perked up at that, your body quickly straightening up all the way. In all your tiredness and confusion at being taken away, you’d hardly thought about how Ghost would’ve felt about you being seperated from him for the first time. 

“You spoke to him last night then?”

“Tried to,” Price snorted. “After I told him where you were he just about bowled me over trying to get to you. Managed to convince him to let you be, but he was a pain in my arse all night. He wants to speak to you later, so if you would please be careful today me and my neck would thank you.”

“Is he coming here?” You asked hopefully, tail raising in your excitement.

“Probably not. If all goes well we should be outta here in a few days to a week. He said to call once we finish up tonight though.”

Oh. As much as you tried to stop yourself from visibly deflating, there was little you could do to prevent yourself falling back against the chair with a huff. It had already been to long without him and it had only been a day. The thought of the growing distance only gnawed at you as you thought about it more. 

“Relax, Pup. You’ll be back home to Ghost before you know it,” Price hummed. “Just gotta get through this in one piece first.”

“Yeah…but that’ll only be after I finish up my time at the kennels,” you grumbled, fully sagging into Gaz in defeat. 

“We’ll see.”

You tilted your head at the Captain wondering what the hell he meant by that, and even though he saw your curious look he didn’t answer it. All he did was wink. Even when you begged him to elaborate he shook his head and tilted down his boonie hat, making it perfectly clear that the time for talking was done.

“You could use more sleep yourself,” Gaz said afterward, watching you in your confusion. “Don’t worry too much about the future right now, you barely got any sleep last night by the sounds of that dream you were having, so you’re not gonna be able to think straight. Rest your head on me and I’ll try and keep the nightmares at bay, ok? Gotta wake up fresh for the mission.”

You pursed your lips, heart beating like a frail bird in your chest. So many questions danced around you, but every thought was dimmed by the tiring heaviness that had refused to shake itself from your body from the moment you’d woken up.

Gaz was right, you did need more sleep. And curling up on him sounded like a dream. However when you looked up into his soft hazel eyes, a sudden wave of heat pulsed through you and gave you pause. He practically glowed in the emerging morning light. 

“You sure you want me cuddling up to you?” you asked, laughing breathily to cover up your nervousness.

“Only as long as you don’t tell Ghost,” he winked. “Wouldn’t want him to get jealous.”

You shoved him playfully at that, but soon settled down once Price barked out for you both to be quiet. Bodies going ridgid before slackening into each other. Your head drooped gently down onto Gaz’s shoulder and he let his cheek rest on top of your head. The warm rays of the morning blanketed you both in its gentle hold and in minutes you were sinking into a now peaceful sleep.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Favoritism

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: Captain Levi wouldn't let his feelings for a scout under him get in the way of his professionalism, right?

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, Levi being a dick to others, implied smut, making out, nudity, titan deaths, drinking.

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Y/N sat in the conference room, tapping her foot nervously. It was time for assessment of the newest scouts and she was the last to go. Every single one of them had come out of Captain Levi’s office either looking dejected, shaken up, or outright crying. She had no clue what he could possibly be saying to everyone to elicit such reactions. Everyone had been nervous and she had no idea why. Captain Levi had been nothing but decent to her but her former classmates didn’t seem to share her view. In contrast, she wasn’t nervous for her meeting until she saw everyone else’s reactions.

As the door opened across the hall, she could hear quiet sobs followed by footsteps running down the hall. After a couple minutes, Captain Levi appeared in the door frame. “L/N?” he called before turning on his heel and walking back into his office. She followed after him quickly, stepping into his office as he held the door for her. Once she was inside, he shut the door behind her and gestured for her to sit. She complied as her captain took a seat across from her behind the desk. He took a moment to look through some papers before speaking. “So going over what your instructors had said when you were a cadet I’m not at all surprised you’re doing so well. You work well with the team and communicate. You’ve shown just how skilled you are in titan combat and you’re very professional in the workplace.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“My only suggestion is to stop taking such big risks. Your actions have never risked anyone else’s safety so I’ve never felt the need to say anything. But for your sake, make sure you’re not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And with that in mind, I’d like to offer you a spot on the Special Operations Squad. We could use someone like you,” he said with the slightest ghost of a smile.

Her breath hitched and she was pretty sure her eyes widened. A spot on Captain Levi’s team? The Levi Squad, as it had been dubbed, was the best and most exclusive unit in all of the Scouts Regiment. “I’d love to, sir. Thank you.”

His shadow of a smile grew into a small one as he sat back in his seat. “Good. Seeing as I have nothing else to complain about, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to embarrass herself out of joy and excitement, she hurried out of the office. That was the meeting that had sent the rest of her teammates off crying? She didn’t dwell on it as she walked back towards her living quarters. As she walked through the hall, she could hear faint sobs and hushed, angry whispers coming through the doors. She ignored them until suddenly one of her classmates left her room with slightly red eyes. “Oh, Y/N,” Zelma greeted. “How was your meeting with the captain?” she asked, pity already creeping into her expression.

The newest member of the Special Operations Squad froze. Did she tell people? It would seem like she was rubbing it in everyone else’s faces. But they’d all find out eventually, right? Still, there was still time for her to tell them. It didn’t have to come on the heels of everyone else’s tears. “It was fine. He just chewed me out a bit for taking risky moves.”

“Yeah, well you got the best of it then. Mandel got chewed out for a full ten minutes about writing the date on his documents incorrectly.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to see if Rose is okay,” Zelma said, brushing past her. As she continued onto her room, she thought about her interactions with Captain Levi. Nothing about him seemed like he’d do that to a person. When she first started, she screwed up about ten pages of reports but rather than scream at her, he had spent the whole night helping her fix them.

“What’s this?” a deep voice rang through the nearly empty office. Her head snapped up towards the door, finding easily the most feared man in all of the Survey Corps… scarier than Commander Erwin Smith.

“Uh… hello, sir,” she stuttered out as she tried to covertly cover up the paperwork she had messed up and was trying to redo.

He said nothing as he approached her desk. Before even looking at her piles of paper, he lit the candle on her desk, making her realize just how late it was and how dark it had gotten. He then observed her papers, easily identifying what she tried to cover up. Wordlessly, he pulled up a chair to sit on the side of her desk, grabbing half of her pile. She looked at him perplexed until he finally explained. “I’ll do this half so we finish quicker.”

“Oh… uh… thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he replied, the phrase seeming too casual for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. “I’ve made these mistakes before.” No he hadn’t. But he wanted to make her feel better.

~

A week later, the Levi Squad was heading out on a mission to reclaim the Scout Regiment’s old headquarters outside Wall Rose. This would be her first time fighting since her cadet class had attempted to retake Shiganshina.

“You ready, brat?” a deep voice asked, coming up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, finding Captain Levi approaching her.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, standing up straight and turning to face him.

The Captain stopped in front of her, taking a moment to observe her. A slight frown adorned his face as he stepped closer. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the straps wrapped around her thighs. Unable to find her voice, she just nodded. He knelt down, grabbing the strap wrapped around her left leg first. He tugged at it, finding that it was a bit too loose, as well as throwing the wearer off balance. She fell forward, catching herself on Levi’s shoulder. She immediately moved to steady herself but another tug seemed to bring her closer.

Levi kept his face straight as he moved on to her other leg. He enjoyed the closeness of her. Ever since that night they spent filling out her paperwork, just reveling in each other’s company, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had justified it in his mind as simply admiring her dedication, enabling him to invite her onto his team. And he couldn’t just let his newest member slip out of her ODM gear, right?

Moving on from the straps around her thighs, his hands wandered up to her waist. He was still kneeling before her but now that he was no longer pulling her leg forward, she stood on her own. He kind of missed her gentle yet firm grip on his shoulder. Nevertheless, he tugged at the straps around her waist, finding them perfectly snug. Satisfied, he finally stood, pulling her attention up with him. “You’re all set.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” she said, slight nervousness creeping into her voice. He just gave her a soft smile before heading over to his own horse.

~~

It had been a long two days. The Special Operations Squad had fought long and hard to clear and secure the Survey Corps’ headquarters but they did it without any casualties. Now, locked safely within the walls of the old castle, they celebrated.

“Oh my god, did you see Ral take down that five meter?” Bozado practically shouted in excitement. “Hell, she tripped the thing and still cut it’s nape.” Everyone cheered on Petra as she blushed.

“Did you see the rookie, here?” Jinn caught everyone’s attention as he nudged her shoulder. She blushed as well as everyone looked at her. “How was your first solo kill?”

She smiled, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Not enough,” she declared, eliciting a cheer from everyone. Across the table she caught Levi’s eye, giving her a smirk and nod of approval, the biggest reaction anyone had gotten out of him.

After a while of celebrating, everyone else was drunk with the exception of her and Levi. Needing a moment of quiet, she slipped out of the room, everyone else too drunk to notice. She made her way to the upper floors until she found a balcony in what was probably the commander’s room. Stepping outside, she just took a moment to breathe in the cool air. Fortunately all the titans had dissolved into nothingness, leaving the view almost beautiful. The only damper was the damage the titans had created.

“Mind if I join?” a low voice came from behind her.

Startled, she jumped, relieved when she saw that it was only Levi. “Oh, you scared me, Captain.”

“Did I?” he said, coming to stand next to her. “Didn’t take you as one to be scared easily. You did just stare down the jaws of a titan today.”

She shrugged, the blush returning to her cheeks. “Yeah well, I’d sooner face a titan than the infamous Captain Levi.”

He chuckled. “You did good,” he praised.

“Thank you, sir. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Your record speaks for itself,” he dismissed.

Turning to face the outside world again, a sudden breeze caught her, sending a chill down her spine. Noticing her movement, Levi unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders before placing it around his newest soldier. “Oh thank you sir but-” He waved his hand, dismissing her before going back to looking over the castle’s grounds, sipping on his tea. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find the words. Clenching her jaw, she pondered all of his actions. Taking a deep swig of the whiskey Jinn had brought, she worked up the courage to speak. “Why do you treat me so well?”

Levi’s blood went cold. It was the question he dreaded and the opening he craved but still never hoped would come. Choosing to deflect, he spoke casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I treat everyone the same.”

“Sir, with all due respect, no you don’t,” she countered sheepishly. “When others in my class screwed up they were punished, you helped me. You invited me to your squad even though I wasn’t first in my cadet class. You don’t even really interact socially with your squad but you’re out here with me.”

Levi sighed, considering his next words. She had him pinned on this. “You… I…” he took a breath. “You impress me,” was all he said. “More than anyone ever has.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she pressed further.

Levi groaned internally as she kept pushing. Unable to say the words, he decided to show her. Resting his cup on the thick railing of the balcony, he stepped right next to her, grasping her face softly. Her doe like eyes stared up at him innocently until they fluttered closed as Levi leant down, connecting their lips. She parted her lips, granting him access to her mouth, which he took eagerly. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her in eagerly which she took as an invitation to reach for his coat. He helped her shed the clothing before he worked to unbutton his own shirt, still kissing her. Once it was off, he returned his hands to her hips, pushing her into the room and onto the bed. In a flurry of lips and clothes, Levi had her naked underneath him. Pausing for a moment, he pulled away just to observe her. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed before returning his lips to hers.

~~

Laying in the bed that had been prepared for him earlier that day, Levi stroked his newest squad-member’s hair. Her bare skin bathed in the moonlight as she slept peacefully on his chest. He couldn’t help but smile into the top of her head, feeling like a giddy teenager. He couldn’t believe he had finally found the girl of his dreams. In the Underground he had had no time for and therefore no consideration of love. He knew he’d have to keep her a well-guarded secret. Sometimes there were bigger threats than titans.

Continuing to enjoy the weight on his chest and the feeling of her soft hair running through his fingers, Levi stared out into the night. He could get used to this. One day they’d have to kill all the titans, right? Then they could get a nice little house out here in the country. Where it could just be the two of them.

Checking the clock that had been wound to the correct time, he could see that the sun would be rising soon. He hadn’t slept at all but that wasn’t out of the ordinary and he didn’t mind. He had more important things to think about than sleep. A small, irrational part of him worried that someone or something would come snatch her from him in the night right as he finally had her. But for the sake of keeping his reputation, he reluctantly slipped out of bed, gently replacing his chest with a pillow so as to disturb her as little as possible.

~

Given that the balcony doors had been left open, the object of Levi’s affection woke with the sun. With a gentle stretch, she soaked the sun in for a moment, inhaling the scent of her commander on the sheets. Despite wanting to lie in bed all day, she’d much rather avoid someone bursting in and asking her why she was in Levi’s bed so she got up reluctantly. Looking for her clothes, which had been shed on the balcony, she found them folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Smiling to herself, she put them on and fixed her hair before heading down to the kitchen.

Upon entering, she found all of her teammates grabbing food from the counter before sitting at the wooden table in the center. They all grumbled good mornings to her as they served themselves and sat. Still standing in the doorway, she saw her captain standing at the stove in an apron. “More pancakes are coming,” he announced.

There was a quiet cheer from the rest of the team as they were already digging through what had already been made. Sitting down, she helped herself to some of the fruit on the table before a plate full of pancakes appeared in front of her. She looked up, finding Levi sitting down beside her at the head of the table with another plate for himself. She just sent him a smile and said a quiet thanks as she dug in.

Meanwhile the rest of the team stared at the pair in shock. Seeing them first, Levi sent them a glare. “What? She hadn’t gotten a plate. Feed yourselves,” he barked before returning his attention to the woman sitting beside him.

Masterlist

[diamond-rozie]

Nightwing's car guy

Dick was doing well to establish himself in Bludhaven. He had an apartment, it was shitty but it was his. He had a day job as police officer, half the people there were in the cartels Nightwing was trying to crack down on, and the other half were in the cartels Nightwing was still trying to trace. He had his suit, still bat-grade, blue instead of the red, yellow, and green Jason got to wear now.

He did't have a cave. Or maybe it should be a nest because the whole bird thing. Burrow? What was the thing owls lived in called? The point is he made due without it. He had his apartment, and he had his supplies stashed away. It wasn't as much as in the Cave, but he didn't have Cave-funding. He could make due.

He didn't have an Oracle in his ear. But that came with the added bonus of not having a Bat either. He could do his own research, find his own information. And it wasn't like he and Babs were totally cut off. It was just only a little weird, because she was technically his ex. Sure she would be in his corner, but she was still his ex. He needed to save some face. Especially since he knew that Bruce and Babs liked to... talk. He could make due.

The only thing Dick was maybe, sorta, just maybe having a little trouble was with his bike. Well it wasn't his bike, it was Nightwing's. Which was precisely the trouble. He'd found a place to stash it, but Dick had never been a car guy... or in this case a bike guy. He would chase his rouges, speeding through the streets, and sure the bike was made for the tight corners and quick turns and the high speeds, and sure it could take a hit or two. But what about three or four? Or five?

Point was Dick needed a car- a bike guy. One that was cheap (he was only a cop), and knew how to not ask questions and keep his mouth shut (again- Nightwing's bike). All that on top of knowing enough on how to fix his bike. (it wasn't exactly the type you could find in store).

But the solution seemed to find him. Which Dick was aware was not generally how it worked, but he would count his blessings. He had been out on patrol, the type that had involved his bike and high speeds. Unfortunately it did not involve the perp in handcuffs and on his way to jail. Dick had been on his tail, could've had him too, if the bike hadn't started sputtering. Dick had done as much as he could for it, but she really needed a pair of eyes that actually knew what they were looking at.

Mumbling curses to himself, Nightwing had been ready to head off to at least catch a dust trail of what operation he'd find himself in next. He could feel the eyes watching him. His hair stood in edge, and when Nightwing turned to look around he couldn't see anyone. Maybe he was being haunted. Trying to arrange his bearings, Nightwing turned back around to get on his bike. When there was suddenly a mop of choppy black hair couched down next to it.

Nightwing blinked at him. How had he managed to get there? "Uh, something you need, man?" Nightwing asked the boy, totally not freaked out.

The boy- teen, he was only a year or two younger than Dick- looked up, large blue eyes staring. As if it was odd for Nightwing to have addressed him. It took him a moment longer to realize that the bike was, in fact, Nightwing's. "You need to change your [important engine part]." He pointed lamely, standing up to his height of only a hair shorter than Dick.

"How do you know that?" Nightwing asked before he could think of the danger the unknown person might pose.

"That's why it was making that sound. It'll put too much pressure on the engine so it won't be able to go as fast it would be otherwise. Which, I take it, would cause you problems." he tipped his head in the direction the rouge had run off in.

Nightwing considered it for just a moment, not wanting the perfect opportunity to get away from him. "Do you know how to fix it?"

The guy looked almost offended, "Yeah."

"I'll pay you." Nightwing jumped at the opportunity, "If you fix it."

Any normal person would've said no to a guy dressed in bullet-proof spandex with a blue bird on his chest and a weird mask. "Sure." He shrugged easily, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he eyed the vehicle. After a moment, "Name's Danny, by the way. You'd probably need to know that." Danny eyes his suit, "Who are you, like, blue-jay?"

"Nightwing." He corrected easily, his name hadn't made the streets yet.

"The Robin reject?" Was Danny immediate response, eyebrow arched up in amusement.

"The what?"

Danny grimaced, the laugh never leaving his face, "Ooh, sorry. Touchy subject?"

"I am not a Robin reject." Dick couldn't tell this civilian that he was Robin. Had been.

Nightwing's bike ran better than it had since he had moved to Bludhaven after Danny had gotten his hands on it. And Danny's payment of ("i don't trust ur money, just buy me food") lunch had been a steal in return. Maybe next time they should go somewhere a little nicer.

Because the bike was doing so well, after Danny fixed it.

Not for any other reason.

[writefinch]

second puberty

You're a totally normal boy until one day at school you notice that your nipples just kinda itch.

It's weird and it keeps happening for like a week and you think you should tell your parents and maybe go to the doctor but school is busy and you've got a lot on your mind and one day in English class another student says "bro what's that on your shirt"

There's a tiny damp patch spreading through the navy blue fabric of your sweatshirt, right over your nipple, a pale bead welling up on the cotton. As you move you see a matching wet spot on the other side of your chest.

And the guy on the desk across suddenly shuts the fuck up because he knows what's happening to you and doesn't want to let the whole class know because that's just cruel and clumsy but he goes so quiet and looks so horrified that the people around you notice

Oh, you still try to hide it. A few students know, sure. You're being talked about, but it's just talk. You come to school in baggy clothes and tape sanitary pads over your nipples. You even wear a sports bra to flatten them down.

You collapse in gym class the next week. Mastitis. Blocked milk ducts. Swelling, redness, fever. A few more days and it would have gone septic.

Then you have to show the nurse. You're too weak to put the breast pumps on. The nurse acts like you're testing her patience. It feels more like a TSA patdown than a medical procedure.

Later, with your parents, a doctor gives you the rundown. Bovine anthropoidism. It's not a genetic disorder, though it sometimes runs in families. You're turning into a cowgirl. Its progress can be halted with a full orchiectomy, but no doctor in any decent insurance network will perform that operation on a healthy young man with no children.

Your parents are upset. Your mom is acting like it's her fault, and your dad is acting like it's your fault. They had to cancel their weekend plans to take you shopping for a breast pump.

You learn that the thick, dull haze over your mind wasn't feverishness. The mental fog is your body's signal to stop what you're doing and get milked. As soon as those ducts are full, trying to think about anything is like trying to do a math test with a stinking cold.

Your male puberty stops overnight. Those dozen wisps of hair on your chin, which you shave every five or six days, are the most you're getting. You didn't put on much muscle in high school, but you're going to lose what little you did. You're a lot hungrier all of a sudden, like you've always missed a meal. Your parents don't like that. You feel like you need an extra three hours of sleep each night. They don't like that either.

When the news gets out at school, the girls you know are mostly ok to you. The boys are weird and mean about it. Punching you in the chest to see if the rumors are true, mooing at you, making gross milkshake-slurping noises as they walk past you in the halls.

Your test scores drop a little from the stress and the distractions but it seems to have a serious knock-on effect where teachers just… don't take you seriously as a student any more. They all think cows are just dopey all the time.

They get really annoyed that you keep asking to be excused to get your breasts milked. They think it's a sign that you're distracted or just trying to avoid the lesson, openly telling you that you're distracting the whole class every time you slouch off to the nurses office.

Some boys spread a rumour that you did this to yourself deliberately. You ordered bovine hormones because you're a weird pervert. Another goes that you tried to convince another boy to start taking bovine hormones because you're gay and a creep

After that the boys bathrooms are basically unusable for you. Boys start taking their phones out and live streaming you like you're Chris Chan. One of your "friends" mentions to you, out of faithful devotion to your welfare, that you've got your own kiwifarms thread.

You delete your socials after that. The harrassment dies down and in the next school year you find that you can recover a small social circle, as long as you're careful. You even go to a couple of parties.

Your first kiss is an assault from a guy whose name you don't know, who puts a hand on your tit until he feels his palm get wet, and presses his lips to yours as you open your mouth in shock. You hadn't paid him much mind before that. You'd been stealing glances at the pretty girl he was striking out with, and he took you for easier prey.

He was right, you think.

Bovine puberty stops normal erections from happening. You only realise that you can still even get erections when another boy rests his hand on your lower back. It's really hard to figure out what your body wants. It's harder still to figure out what you want. You don't know what's your body and what's your brain and what's just you freaking out like a dumb teenager. You seem to have lost your fight response. It's all freeze or flight now whenever your hackles get up. Anger just turns to fear and timidity.

Really you're lucky. You're still probably going to college. Yeah you got harassed a lot and turned into a bit of a hermit but hey, more time to study. Your family obviously resent it and think you made a stupid mistake but they don't kick you out or anything. You aren't traumatized or anything like that.

School kinda sucks for a lot of people, you guess.

[pgummie]

Btw I feel like I probably don't have to say this but DO NOT BELIEVE ANY OF THE SHIT MUSK SPEWS ABT THE BRAZILIAN TWITTER BAN.

We do not live in a dictatorship, and justice Alexandre de Moraes was not trying to censor anyone. This whole thing started because the Brazilian court ordered twitter to take down accounts that were spreading political misinformation during the elections, hate speech, and were also responsible for stoking the fires that lead to the attempted coup in September.

These were not just right winged accounts exercising their right to free speech, they were CRIMINAL accounts. Musk not only refused to delete these accounts, acusing Alexandre de Moraes of trying to "censor" them, he also refused to pay the fines that he received for refusing to comply with Brazilian law. To avoid these fines, he fired every single employee from the Brazilian branch of twitter and closed it down. No international company is allowed to operate in Brazilian soil without a legal representative here that can answer for the company, this is what lead to the twitter shut down in Brazil, judge Alexandre de Moraes gave Musk an ultimatum and once again he did not comply, thus twitter is now illegal in Brazil.

Another thing that this whole situation brought to light is that Starlink, a company owned by Elon Musk, is essential to the Brazilian military for a number of things, all of wich are extremely worrisome given that this is a private company owned by an american who has been aiding a foreign military without public knowledge for years now. And of course, this partnership started during Bolsonaro's presidency (far right fascist responsible for thousands of deaths during covid). Starlink is also behind a number of other horrible things, including aiding in the genocide of Brazilian indigenous people, so needles to say their involvement with our military is extremely worrying, especially considering the fact that this whole situation with twitter has also been labeled as a clear attempt by Musk to undermine and destabilize Brazil's democracy.

TLDR: do not trust anything this monster has to say, and to any American possibly reading this, please vote consciously in the coming election. Sadly, the results of the election in America also majorly impact the lives of people around the world, and Brazil has been in a fragile state ever since Bolsonaro lost the last election. Your vote does make an impact, do not let it go to waste.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[rafesangelita]

hii again ik i just sent one but what about rafey manhandling you out of a party when you get into an argument w some girl who was like trying to get all over him (he was clearly not into it and was telling her he had a girl) and then him eating her pussy in bed that night saying that shes the only one he wants cause he loves her and her pretty pussy so much -👛

warnings: arguing, oral (f receiving)

you were sitting next to rafe when the broad stumbled over to him, so high out of her mind that she didn’t notice your head resting on his shoulder. “hey rafeee!” your eyes shot to the source of the voice, your boyfriend immediately glancing over at you. “you got a line for me?” she smiled, tripping over her heels before falling right into his lap. “yo, come on!” he pushed her, “watch the fuck out, i got all this shit out right here.” you glared at her, annoyed with the way she was looking at your boyfriend.

“i don’t have any money on me, but i could pay you with something else..” rafe’s lip curled in disgust, physically cringing at her while you fought the urge to drag her out of the house by her hair. “go be a mess somewhere else, i got a girl.” rafe pulled you closer to his side, her eyes finally landing you. “all lines are fifty dollars, babe. sorry, no free plays around here!” you flashed her a smile, running your hand across rafe’s chest, “this is your girl? my god, i’d think you have higher standards, ray.. guess not.” you took a moment to examine her.

“then what does that make you?” you stood up. “the whole world could see where your hair extensions start, your lashes are hanging on by a thread, you desperately need a nail fill, and you could barely walk in those things called heels.. you’re as low as they come.” rafe was already packing his stuff, knowing how this would end if you two didn’t leave right now. surrounding partygoers were now looking at you two, your boyfriend tugging on one of the belt loops of your skirt. “my daddy is chief police, i’d watch out if i were you. i could shut your whole operation down.” at that, rafe cursed under his breath, dragging you away before anything could escalate.

“do it then! and make sure you tell him how you’re an easy coke whore while you’re at it!” rafe picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder while you tried to squirm out of his grip. “put me down!” it wasn’t until he made it to the truck that he placed you in the passenger seat, your hands shoving him away when he tried to talk to you. he groaned, making his way to the driver’s side. “you should’ve defended me.” rafe looked over at you with wide eyes. “i should’ve defended you? against what? the idiot that couldn’t tell left from right?” he laughed.

“it’s not funny.” you crossed your arms over your chest, scooting as close to the door as you could. “are you seriously mad at me right now?” you swatted his hand away when he reached over, making him shake his head. “just wait till we get home.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him for the rest of the ride. you were quick to get off the truck once he pulled in, slamming the door shut as you ran inside. rafe scoffed, “well that was a little dramatic.” he went up upstairs, groaning in frustration when the door knob to his bedroom didn’t budge. “you can’t lock me out of my own space!” you were naked, about to step into the shower before you shouted, “i just did!”

you took your time under the hot water, washing off all of the irritation and anger from tonight. you knew rafe did everything he could to establish himself as unavailable and uninterested to that girl, he even pushed her for crying out loud. the guilt for being mad at him was starting to seep through, making you open the bedroom door after you got out of the shower. once you changed into a pair of his boxers and a baby tee, you climbed underneath the sheets, waiting to hear his footsteps walk in. eventually he did, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, “i just get so mad when someone thinks they can just flirt their way into getting your attention.” he turned, rubbing your leg through the comforter. “no one, except you, has my attention, y/n. nothing else matters to me.” he uncovered you, fingers toying with the waistband of your, well his, bottoms. you sighed, pulling him to your chest where you cradled his head. “i promise i won’t be mad at you when it comes to other girls. i trust you.” he kissed you before pulling away, sliding his boxers down your legs.

you let him have his way with you, a gasp leaving your lips when he pulled your thighs on top of his shoulders. “you never have to worry about anyone else, no one even compares.” rafe left wet kisses on your folds, your back arching off the bed when his tongue met your clit. “i’ve never met someone so beautiful, ‘never seen a pussy this pretty.” he spread you apart with his thumbs, marveling at the sight of you. “you’re the only girl i need, ‘the only one for me.” you knew rafe had a mean head game, but one hour later and he was still making you cum until tears rolled down your cheeks. “please! it’s too much, rafe,” you sobbed, your body on fire as your legs trembled.

he finally pulled away, his lips shining with your slick. “i love you.” he rubbed circles into your skin. rafe waited until you were able to meet his eyes, your chest falling and rising with each breath. “i love you, too.” you blinked slowly.