#you have 9 choices so go all out in putting these anywhere you like ^^

[diamond-flavored-whump]

Best ways to restrain your Whumpees (a subjective scale)

Tied to a chair: 7/10. Classic, gets the job done. Rub their skin raw while you're at it.

Cuffed to the chair: 9/10. The more cuffs the better. Sure, cuff each wrist to an arm chair. But what if you also cuffed their wrists together with just enough slack so their circulation doesn't cut off? ... what if you didn't give them enough slack? What about their legs?

Chained to the chair: 4/10. Oppressive weight is nice and all, but unless you know what you're doing, these are easy to slide off and best used alongside other methods.

Strapped to the chair: 6/10. Better suited for impersonal settings.

Duct taped to the chair: 7/10. Potential 9/10 if you rip the tape off every time you move them. Do you do it hard and fast, listen to their sudden scream? Or do you do it slowly, savor each pitiful little whimper?

(Surgery required) Put magnets in their wrists: 9/10. Make them try to lift their arms, only to feel like their skin is ripping from the inside. Make sure they know you put the magnets in there. Nothing that will make them sick, you reassure. Just making sure they can't go anywhere without you un-magnetizing the arm rests.

Chained to the wall: 7/10. How much room do they have? Is it only one wrist, both on the same chain? Each one on opposite sides of the room? What about ankles? Do their steps rattle? Can they toss and turn in bed without making any noise?

Chained/cuffed to the floor: 10/10. Absolute humiliation. Forced to kneel, bow their head, cower like a dog before you. Their restraints holding them down every time they try to rise against you, reminding them of their place.

Ankles chained to a pole: 6/10. Oh sure, you can run. You just can't go very far. An interesting idea, but overall mediocre.

Leash wrapped around a pole: 8/10. Leave your pet unable to wander too far, perhaps keep their food bowl just out of reach. Make them dependent on you for bathroom breaks, food, and water.

Tied to a beam/pole: 8/10. How big is the pole? Are they tied so tight that all they can do is squeeze their shoulder blades together, and every time they try to relax the ropes tug them back? Is it large enough that their entire arms can wrap around it? A little too big for that? Did you tie up their feet as well?

Tied horizontally to a beam/pole: 9/10. So many ways this could go! Arms and legs above them like they're a pig on a spit, or one of those rotisserie chickens in the grocery store. Arms below, facing up, like they're laying in bed. Forced to look down at how high up they are, unable to do anything to get down.

Dangling by their wrists: 8/10. Once again, a classic choice. Rope or cuffs work here.

Dangling by their hair: 2/10. Not a long-term solution, hair will be pulled out. Only works with certain Whumpees. Only suited for short-term punishments.

Dangling by their neck: 7/10 if done right. Once again, a temporary solution best used to scare and threaten your Whumpee. I cannot overstate that you must be careful with this method if you like to reuse Whumpees. Remember to let your Whumpee down once they pass out!!

Dangling by their leash and collar: 6/10. Same concerns as above.

Dangling by their waist: 4/10. Has some potential, but have not seen it used much if at all.

Dangling by their ankles/feet: 5/10. A good way to disorient and weaken your Whumpee, but must be used in moderation. Excessive blood rush to the head can cause permanent damage and makes your Whumpee less fun to play with.

Standing in water: 4/10. A good short-term punishment, but can cause loss of toes and even feet of water gets too cold. Proceed with caution.

Gags: 9/10! Good for defiant Whumpees, Whumpees in transport, ones who can't learn the lesson not to speak. Just remember to take it off when you want to hear their screams.

Small rooms, holes in the ground, boxes: 8/10. Less about restraint, more containment, but still gets the point across. They cannot escape you, no matter how much they wish to.

I reiterate, leashes: 10/10. Hold their leash at all times, and you'll know when they try to run away.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Look at how big my titties are getting.... so full of milk! I look like a regular breeding cow already. It's so wonderful seeing my pretty little boobs start to get so heavy and swollen. Pregnancy is amazingly fun! I was a bit worried when my doctor said he signed me up for this! I mean, I've been living as a girl for a little while now and my transition has been going super well. But as soon as I turned 18 he was like, "Emily, now that you're old enough I think you're ready to start carrying a few kids, don't you?" I was like "Uhhhh, sure?" And he had me sign all these wavers, despite me not 100% knowing what I was getting myself into!

Soooo, apparently I was entered into a trial to be continually impregnated on high doses of fertility drugs for a decade. My paperwork says that 'the patient's uterus is expected to produce a minimum of 100 kids in that time.' The minimum!? Ummmm...... wow. But I'm not too surprised. I'm only like six months along and I look huge. It's definitely making playing field hockey a lot more challenging, but as expected we are college girls now so over half of us are pregnant anyway. So I guess it's not a huge deal but when the other girls check me or tackle me I feel like my belly's gonna pop like a balloon, which would be fun to see, I suppose.... Hasn't happened yet though!

So, not only was I forcibly entered into this clinical breeding trial or whatever but I realized the procedure was pretty quick.... I asked my surgeon and I'm not going on Rocket, so I'm not giving birth urethrally, and they didn't hook my birth canal up anywhere, so I won't be giving birth anally like a lot of trans girls..... I decided to ask if they intended to do a new surgery and they said no. So I asked how am I giving birth? The people running the trial said a small device is hooked to my womb, when my babies are ready it'll emit a signal, telling them where I am.....

Guys, get this: I won't know when it's going off. They said they only perform the retrieval between 9-5 Mon-Fri. So I'll be at school or out, going about my day and they'll come by. Allegedly they'll have me take off my clothes wherever I am, they'll smear my belly with numbing cream, and..... perform a C-Section no matter where I am. College? A crowded mall? A movie theater? I'll have no choice, they'll just rip off my clothes, prep me, and open my belly like it's a casual, minor test they're performing, like drawing blood or weighing me or something. Then they'll take my babies to the usual government-owned civilian living centers all these babies are raised at by all these government-appointed breeders who manage to make it to thirty. I might end up being a full-time mom like that one day, if I'm lucky and I don't pop! So.... I have public C-Sections to look forward to! Wonder if it happens even if some random guy is fucking me as I try to go about my day? Wouldn't surprise me one bit.....

Guess I'm still glad I transitioned, even if being forced to have a uterus and pump out babies like a factory was not how I envisioned my twenties. No big deal, I guess. I love having this huge belly, and guys and girls go crazy about it! They go even crazier when they see I have a nice, thick cock between my legs, too.... I feel like it's getting even bigger lately, maybe it's just getting swollen because I jerk off so often? And every other person I run into gives it a few healthy tugs when they reach up my skirt or dresses..... Mmmmm, speaking of which I think I'm gonna put on a cute tiny dress and go out clubbing tonight. My poor pregnant body is just begging to be pounded by twenty or thirty cocks..... I'm sure my professors will understand if I'm late to class tomorrow!"

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back

Series Masterlist

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

Word Count: 19k

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

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

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back, bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She leaned forward, holding his gaze with her own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to fucking get it together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking bring it, Pretty Boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck is a BBL?”

“Brazilian Butt Lift.”

“You can’t just fucking say shit-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not pretty, the Thing would grumble. Beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you on about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had his fucking answer for Butcher.

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

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

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

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Need a week.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a guess.” She said coldly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions

Fucking pick up.

Butcher said you and Soldier Boy were fighting.

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

Or I’m sending Annie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being fucking dramatic-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ben.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben swore at himself. This was getting fucking ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, this isn’t about you.”

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

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

“But what if-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Don’t call her that.” Ben snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And there fucking is?”

“FBSA HQ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben frowned. “Head-popper.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said she combusted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck does that mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

She was singing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

More fucking silent gestures. Ben’s patience snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just you. Nobody else. Nobody even near you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you sang. For the whole day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back.” You said stupidly.

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

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

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

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

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

You could feel yourself pale. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can fix-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t break, you can’t break -

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

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

“I burned your face.” You mumbled.

He just shrugged. “You burn, I burn.”

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

“Mini-Homelanders?” 

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

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

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

“Sunshine-“

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

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

“Once,” you whisper. “Right after.”

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

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

He frowns, but nods. “Ok.”

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

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

His brows furrow. “Better at what?”

“Dealing with me.”

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

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine? Fine like you’ll let me-“

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This felt… good.

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

[heavyhitterheaux]

Ghost Part 1

AN: everyone ignore the fact that it took me almost a year to finish this lol

Synopsis: You're an OnlyFans model that gets pregnant by none other than Jack Harlow, who runs at the first sign of taking responsibility for his actions. But soon enough, his responsibilities get to be too much for him to ignore

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

'I'm a good girl'

At least that’s what you told yourself 

But good girls didn't go to school by day and were a cam girl at night.

However, you were 

It was only for a little while

Just until you finished school

You needed a way to pay for it somehow

Besides the money was good and it kept a roof over your head

You admit that this wasn't your first choice in a career path obviously, but you had to do what you had to do in order to survive.

You had been in foster care since you were 9 because your parents and brother passed away in a car accident while you were the lone survivor

Your grandparents were older and they couldn't take care of you so that's when you went into the system 

Your aunt which was your mother's sister and your mother didn't get along and she said that there was no way in hell that she would take you and that you were someone else’s problem

I mean she did have five kids of her own to take care of, but to be that cold hearted to a nine year old?

You admit that you had survivor's guilt and would do anything to have all three of them here with you. But you knew that they would have wanted for you to have the best life that you could possibly have and that you were going to make sure of it. 

But if they were here, then maybe just maybe, your current life would be different.

You had dreams of becoming a preschool teacher since you were diagnosed at 15 with PCOS and you were told that your chances of getting pregnant were slim to none. It definitely hurt because since you didn’t have any immediate family left, that you wanted to have as many as you could. 

But you figured if you couldn’t have any of your own that you would teach them instead. If you could plant little seeds into their minds that will be able to set them up for greatness then you were all for it. 

You put on your newest lingerie set that was gifted to you by one if not your favorite supporter you would say who went by the name Mr.Missionary and was setting up your camera in order to get the perfect view.

One thing about you is that you never showed your face

Only thing they could see was from the neck down

You did that on purpose because the last thing you wanted was for someone to know what you looked like.

It wasn't the fact that you were embarrassed of what you did, but you wanted to remain as anonymous as possible so for the future, your career wouldn't be impacted. You could only imagine what would happen if someone found out what you had done in college when you were teaching their small children. It probably wouldn’t be good and the next thing that would probably happen is you being out of a job. 

You saw time and time again that happening to different people and that's one thing you did not want to deal with.

But, back to Mr. Missionary

He was a sweet talker and knew exactly what to say.

It all started with a message from him asking you if you were comfortable showing your face to him.

Since he had been supportive of you since day one, you figured why not. But also told him not to share any of the photos that you sent him to anyone else. 

So your jaw definitely dropped when you answered the incoming facetime call and was staring back at no one other than Jack Harlow.

The two of you would talk every week and you mentioned one time how you had never been off the east coast before and would love to go. Only Fans did pay well now that you had a lot of subscribers, but it hadn’t always been that way. However, you really only used the money for school and to make sure that you had a place to live. 

The semester had just ended and you weren't taking any classes during the summer so Jack offered to fly you out to L.A. to spend a week with him while he was recording new songs and you quickly said yes. 

This would happen periodically, him flying you out to different cities to meet him all summer long and soon you found yourself getting ready for the new semester to start.

You had about another year to go at Howard University in D.C. until you graduated with your degree in early childhood education while your friend Nadia was majoring in business administration.

The two of you met your freshman year and had been close ever since when you had to take a few prerequisite classes together.

She was from Louisville and was a big fan of Jack, but you didn't bother telling her what had happened between the two of you.

You signed an NDA anyway.

And since she had gone home for the summer, she had no reason for the thought to even cross her mind. 

But when you just so happened to go to your OB/GYN appointment you had gotten a huge surprise.

You were pregnant and apparently had been for three months.

Your period was irregular and you would often go for months without getting one so you thought nothing of it.

The first thing you did when you got back to your apartment was call Nadia and couldn’t help but to blurt it out.

"I'M PREGNANT!"

"Well first of all hello to you too and WHAT?!”

"I can't get pregnant! At least that's what I was told. They told me that when I was fifteen!"

"Well apparently you can. How far along are you?"

"Three months apparently and I had absolutely no idea. I wasn’t craving anything, no morning sickness, no nothing. None of the usual symptoms."

"Oh so when the semester ended, those legs were open for business, huh?"

"NADIA! BE SERIOUS PLEASE." You said while pacing around your bedroom. 

"Well, who's the father? Did you tell him?"

"Sooo, this is probably going to sound really bad." You muttered while pouring yourself something to drink.

You couldn’t see Nadia’s face, but you could just imagine how it looked. 

"I mean, how bad? You're an adult who can do what you want."

"Ummm…. He’s one of my supporters for my cam show."

"Y/N!!!! IS THAT WHY YOU WERE FLYING EVERYWHERE THIS SUMMER!? YOU WENT TO SEE HIM DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN?"

"Um, maybe and well, I didn’t die."

"What do you mean maybe?! It's either yes or no! And you didn’t die, but now you came back pregnant!”

"Uh, then yes."

"You need to tell him NOW. It’s his responsibility as much as it is yours."

"I will and then I'll call you back." You said while sighing. 

You didn't have enough courage to call him, but you needed to. It was better to get it over with sooner rather than later. 

You knew he was busy and decided to text him first.

You- Hey, call me when you get a chance 

Jack- I will right before I go to sleep tonight. Hopefully I can get another private show 😉

You didn't even bother responding and just waited for your phone to ring while working on assignments you had to do for class instead. 

Another thing you had to worry about now was graduating on time since you were now pregnant and would be due at the start of the last semester before you graduated. 

It was around 11:52 pm when your phone finally rang indicating an incoming facetime call from Jack.

"Hey pretty girl. I'm sorry it took me so long to call you.”

"Hey. It's okay, I was just studying while I waited.”  You quietly said and Jack was immediately eyeing you knowing that something was wrong.

"You okay?" Jack curiously asked while looking at your solemn expression.

"No, not exactly." You quietly responded while starting to fidget as you closed your textbook that was in front of you.

It was now or never.

"What's going on?"

You took a deep sigh before the words left your mouth. Might as well get it over with.

"I'm pregnant." 

Jack immediately went quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose before he said anything.

"I thought you said that you couldn't get pregnant and I always wore protection every time just in case."

"I thought so too and obviously you didn't."

"How do you know it's mine?" You immediately rolled your eyes.

"Didn't I spend basically the entire summer with you?"

"Some of it, not all of it. I don't know what you were doing when you weren't with me." Your jaw had hit the floor. He had some nerve.

"Don't do that. Why would I lie?"

"I'm being honest. Don't get mad at me for telling the truth. And why would you lie? Because I’m a millionaire the last time I checked, that’s why. Sounds like you tried to trap me." 

"Look, I just want them taken care of. AND EXCUSE ME? TRAP YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

"I still don't see what that has to do with me and yes trap me, you heard me the first time."

"Seriously? How could you even say that? I have given you no reason to think that about me."

“Well people can surprise you, everyday. Until I get a paternity test, I'm not believing anything."

That was about three years ago and nothing has changed since then.

You were basically a single mother and Jack popped in occasionally when he wanted to. 

Which wasn't often. 

You were struggling living on your own with no support system in D.C. and Nadia had convinced you to move to Kentucky to be near her so she could help out as much as she could. Her business was finally taking off and she told you that you could find a teaching job at one of the elementary schools since they were hiring for preschool teachers.

When Jack found out that you had moved to Louisville he was not only convinced that you trapped him, but now you were stalking him too.

He had no idea that you were in this by yourself, literally. No help from family or anything.

You could count on one hand how many times Jack had seen Ace since birth and you came to the conclusion that you were probably going to be a single mother and stopped asking him for anything. The last time that he had talked to you was almost two months ago. During that three minute conversation he didn’t even ask how his son was and he only lived less than fifteen minutes away from you.

After the paternity test was done and Jack was proven to be the father, he had accidentally left the paper out on the table and no one other than his younger brother Clay found it. He had questioned Jack about it and because Clay was holding the obvious proof in his hands there was no possible way for him to back out of it. Clay then took it upon himself to reach out to you because he wanted to meet Ace. He met him when he was a month old and at that time Jack had only been to see him once. Because of how he acted, you knew early on not to put his last name on Ace’s birth certificate.  

After moving to Louisville, you met two of Nadia’s close friends, Blaire and Liv. Blaire was a baker who had her own bakery and would have breakfast waiting for you every day for you and Ace before you dropped him off at daycare and went to the school to teach while Liv taught kindergarten at the same school where you were. All four of you had become extremely close, but none of them knew who Ace’s father was. 

Because you signed an NDA, all you ever told them was that he really wasn’t a part of his life and that you were doing this all on your own and they accepted that as an explanation, but it was only a matter of time before they found out the truth. You knew that they would all look at him differently because they were such big fans of him. Plenty of times they had asked you to go to his concerts with him, but you steadily declined, but they never questioned why. 

All Jack did was send money to help with daycare and that’s when he actually remembered to do it. You got a discount since it was actually in the same school as where you taught, but it was still expensive. Especially on the salary that you got.

It was currently almost four in the afternoon and Jack was supposed to pick Ace up to spend time with him and you were hoping that they would be able to spend more time together. You knew that his career was demanding and he was at the height of it, but you just wanted Ace to have a relationship with him. He told you that he would be coming around 2 and that he would take Ace to the Louisville basketball game later with the rest of PG and spend the weekend with him. 

From what you knew, Urban was the only one who knew about Ace and was guessing that this would be his opportunity to tell them. You sighed as you looked at your baby waiting at the door with his little backpack on wanting to see the moment his dad was going to come through the door. 

After a while, he just sat down and sighed which made your heart break.

“Mommy, daddy not coming is he?” He quietly asked you and all you did was sigh.

“We just have to wait and see, bub. Maybe daddy got busy and got caught up with doing something.” One thing that you were tired of doing was making excuses for Jack.

“Does daddy love me?” He looked up at you with tears in his eyes and you quickly sat down next to him and slid him into your lap.

It took everything in you not to cry right then and there, but immediately pulled out your phone to call him.

“Of course he does. Here, baby. Let’s call him to see where he is.”

You didn’t know if you were trying to convince Ace or convince yourself.

You put the phone to Ace’s ear and Jack actually picked up on the third ring which you were surprised by.

“Hello?”

“DADDY! Where you at? Still coming to get me?”

“Oh, hey little man. Um, something came up, but I promise to get you another day.”

“But you promised you were coming today. You said that last time.”

“I know, bubs but I’ve just been so busy.”

Not wanting for the conversation to go on any further, Ace handed the phone to you with tears in his eyes, threw off his backpack and ran down the hallway into his room.

“Ace!” You called after him, but he continued down the hallway. 

“Are you…..? Are you serious right now?! You made him cry because all you do is fucking lie to him and to me!” You took a deep breath before letting him have it. 

“Y/N, please don’t fucking start.” You heard him say before sighing and you could hear cheering going on in the background indicating that he was already at the game.

“Oh, I’m going to fucking start because he has been excited for this all week! Why would you bail on your son like that? You did the same shit last time. You begged me to come and see him and when I told you what time would work best, what did you do? Not even bother to show up. Either you want to be in his life or you don’t and you need to make a decision. Tired of my child constantly being disappointed in his father.”

“Look, I’ll talk to you later.” Jack said and then hung up without another word leaving you fuming from your conversation. 

You simply got up while grabbing Ace’s backpack and made your way to his room. Once you opened the door, you found him laying down with his head resting on his hands just staring off into space.

“Ace….”

“Mommy, can we just go to the park?” He asked not even mentioning what Jack had done.

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want. I also think that it’s a perfect day for ice cream. What do you say?”

At the mention of ice cream, Ace immediately perked up and eagerly nodded his head.

“Can I get chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“Whatever my Ace wants, he gets.”

Upon hearing this, he immediately smiled and you were happy that you could take his mind off of what his father had promised him, at least for a little while. 

Two weeks had passed and you were rushing to get both of you out of the door and to Blaire’s bakery for breakfast so that the two of you would at least have something on your stomach for the busy day ahead.

You had sent a text last night to Jack asking him to send you money for daycare for the month of October, but he never responded leaving you frustrated because you literally now only had 24 hours to come up with the money otherwise you weren’t quite sure what you were going to do.

Your Only Fans was still active, but that was a last resort.

While driving to the bakery, Ace fell asleep in the backseat when you decided to call him.

“Yes, Y/N? What now? I’m busy.”

“Good morning to you too. Did you get my text last night?” You asked after rolling your eyes at how he greeted you.

“Didn’t I just give you money for daycare? Why do you need more already?”

“You see, Jackman….”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name isn’t it? Given to you by your parents?”

“Look, what do you want? I’m in the studio.”

“No need to be rude. I need more money for daycare. I have to pay it every month.”

“Why the fuck is it so expensive? Got damn a round trip to L.A. is cheaper.”

“I don’t know, but I already get a discount and I have to pay it by tomorrow so can you just send it to me?”

“1600 dollars?!? That’s the discounted price? You have got to be fucking kidding me. They act like you have six fucking kids. He’s one person.”

“Just… can you do it or not? I wouldn't ask you unless I absolutely had to.” You asked, hating that you even had to do so.

“Yeah, I’ll send it and you better be using it for daycare and not something else. Because if I find out you did, you better not ask me for it again. Anything else you want to bother me about?”

“Ace is in the car. Do you want to say good morning to him?”

“Not really. I’ll call him later. Bye.”

“I-....”

Jack hung up without another word and all you did was shake your head at him and how your three year old is more well mannered than he is.

Once you pulled up to the bakery, Blaire met you outside on the curb and immediately ran to your window with a bag of food as well as two drinks. A hot chocolate for Ace and her specially made coffee for you. You swore that she put jet fuel in it and as many times as you asked her for the recipe, she never told you. 

It literally allowed for you to stay energized throughout the day and didn't even want to know how much caffeine was in it.

She handed you yours, while she opened Ace’s door and handed him his.

“Thank you, Auntie Blaire.” He quietly said before taking it and you looked back at him to see that he was pouting and Blaire immediately asked him what was wrong before you could.

“Daddy didn’t say good morning to me when he talked to mommy.”

Oh.

So he was awake.

“I’m just sure he was really busy. You can try calling him later once you get home, yeah?” She said to try and get a smile at him, but all he did was nod his head.

So much for getting a good start to the day.

Ace had been upset the entire time he was in daycare even when you went to go and check on him and brought a cookie as a peace offering which he wasn't excited by and thought that making his latest favorite dinner might take his mind off of it. 

You never in a million years thought that Ace would love to help you cook, but here you were. He told you that he wanted to be a chef when he grew up, so you obviously set him up with everything that he might need.

He told you on the way home that he wanted to make chicken parm with noodles so you stopped by the store to grab the ingredients.

Ace was wearing his apron that you had gotten him as a gift for his birthday which said Chef Ace on it and standing on his step stool to add salt to the boiling water for the noodles while you were finishing cutting up the chicken and about to start making the breading for it.

He didn't bring up for the rest of the day what had happened with Jack earlier, but you had a feeling that it was coming and more than likely it would be around bedtime. But for now, you were simply going to focus on spending time with your little one.

“Ace, do you want to grab the Italian seasoning for mommy to use?”

“Yes!”

He promptly moved his step stool to be in front of the spice cabinet and climbed up when there was a knock on the door.

Ace had handed it to you and stepped down before going to get a sip of juice out of his sippy cup.

“Be right back, bubs. Remember don't touch anything without mommy being in here with you. We don't need you getting hurt.”

“Okay, promise.” He quickly answered before taking another swig of his juice as you went to answer the door to come face to face with Nadia,  Blaire, and Liv.

“Heyyy. Blaire told us baby daddy troubles this morning sooooo…. We brought wine and lemon cake that Blaire made for Ace.” Nadia said as she held up the wine and Liv held up the cake and all three of them were smiling back at you.

“You guys didn't….”

“Shut up and let us in. Yes we did and what is our little chef making tonight?” Liv asked as you moved to the side and let them in while closing the door behind you.

“Chicken parm and salad and Blaire’s cake can be added to that now.”

“HI AUNTIES!” You heard Ace as he ran full speed towards the four of you.

“Auntie’s baby!” Nadia exclaimed as she opened her arms to engulf him into a hug.

“Food should be about done in another thirty minutes.”

“Well until then, we have the wine to keep us occupied.”

After gushing over how good the meal was along with Blaire’s lemon cake, Nadia pulled out her phone and shoved it towards you.

“What am I looking at?” You asked her as Ace had climbed into your lap.

“Jack Harlow and his No Place Like Home concert. I thought I would get tickets for all of us to go.”

Ace then peered at her phone and got a confused look on his face.

“Oh, that's daddy!”

Silence.

Looks of shock.

Looks of disbelief.

Nadia, Liv, and Blaire knew how intelligent Ace was so they didn't think that this would be something that he would lie about all while trying to wrap their heads around it.

When no one said anything, Ace turned to look at you.

“Are we going to call him before I go to sleep?”

“Um, sure bubs. We’ll call him. Do you want to go and pick out a book for us to read tonight before we do?”

He eagerly nodded before hopping down off your lap and heading to his bookshelf in his bedroom.

All you did was sigh and wait for the interrogation to begin.

Nadia was first.

“Y/N!!!!! I…. WHAT!?”

“Do not say anything because the last thing I need is him finding out that other people know.”

“He is a literal ASSHOLE to you and Ace. The mother of his son and his actual son. All the shit that you’ve told us he’s done!?! Or hasn't done for that matter.” Liv exclaimed as she poured herself another glass of wine.

“So that's who was flying you out that summer?”

You simply nodded.

“Y/N…..”

“Look, I don't need the looks of pity. I’m fine, my son is fine and that's all that matters. We’re going to be okay with or without him.”

Blaire who had been quiet the entire time simply shook her head.

“I can always call my brothers to jump him.”

“NO, BLAIRE!”

“The offer still stands. Just say the word.” She replied while shrugging.

“I know how you three love his music so get the tickets and have fun. Me and Ace will be okay.”

“No. One band, one sound bitch. If you have beef with Jack Harlow, so do we.” Nadia said while crossing her arms. 

“Come to think of it… Ace does look an awful lot like him.”

“All I can do every day when we go out is pray that no one notices. I have to protect him and it’s sad that I actually have to do it from his father.”

It was around 7 PM when you had finished giving Ace a bath and had finished reading the book that he picked out earlier to him when he asked to call Jack.

“Can we call daddy now?” He asked looking up at you hopeful and all you did was give him a small smile.

“Of course we can.”

You grabbed your phone and attempted to call Jack on facetime while handing it to Ace.

All it did was continuously ring and you saw the pout on Ace’s face become more pronounced.

“Maybe, he’s just busy, bubs.” You quietly said before you took your phone back and the look of disappointment across his face broke your heart.

“He’s always busy, mommy.”

“But, at least you get to spend the day with him tomorrow! That’s something to be excited about. Do you have any idea about what you want to do?”

Jack had begged you to come and get him tomorrow to make up for not taking him to the basketball game with him and as much as you felt that he was going to go back on his word, but you were willing to give him another chance. But the chances were slowly running out.

“No, I’m just sleepy.”

“Okay, let’s get tucked in so we can sleep.”

Once you had gotten Ace settled, you went into your room and logged onto your banking app to see that Jack in fact did send you the money to pay for daycare and you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize that you had been holding. 

Ten minutes later, you got a text from him.

Jack- I’ll come and get him tomorrow. Be there around nine. 

Hopefully this was a way for him to redeem himself for not showing up the other day and prayed that he would follow through. 

You were tired of seeing your child disappointed. 

The next morning after getting Ace ready, Clay came to get him and you would say that you were surprised that it wasn’t Jack, but that would be a lie. Ace was still excited to see Clay, so the last thing you wanted to do was upset him. You got to have a full day to yourself which you hadn’t had in a while.

Your time was spent going to the mall, seeing a movie, and even going to your favorite restaurant by yourself.

You made sure to soak this all in because you didn’t know the next time that you would be able to get another opportunity to do this and spend your time and money on yourself.

It was around 5 PM when Clay dropped off Ace who you could tell was still on a sugar high since he was running around the apartment and not able to keep still for three minutes when you got on the topic of Clay’s brother since you knew that it was inevitable. 

"Clay, I have given him chance after chance to do right by him and he literally disappoints me and him every time." 

"I know and I'm…."

"No. Do not apologize for him. If he could have just seen his face when he promised to come and get him to go to the game with all of you and to have a cooking date and he didn't show. Like my baby was bawling with tears running down his face and asked me does daddy even love me? Clay my heart can't take too much more of this. This has been going on for way longer than it should have. My son is my entire world and he deserves a father in his life that wants to be consistent and be there for him. I don't think Jack will ever get there." 

"So I guess I shouldn't tell you that he still hasn't told our parents about you or Ace?" Clay asked while scratching the back of his neck.

You then looked at Clay in disbelief as Ace came up on your left side and lifted his hands up to indicate he wanted to be picked up by you or his uncle and Clay quickly did. 

"Your brother is just full of surprises isn't he? You're more of a father to him than he is."

"Reality hasn't hit him yet."

"It doesn't take three years. It's just crazy how you were the only one who welcomed him with open arms, but then again you had already saw the DNA results so you had no choice but to believe me. I guess Jack never thought in his wildest dreams he would sleep with a cam girl and end up with a kid."

Just then your phone went off indicating a text from the man of the hour.

Jack- Y/N, I know you're mad at me but I promise to get him next time.

You- Don't even worry about it. Once again your little brother is stepping up and doing what you should have done. So much that he actually called him dad the other day. Think about that.

You saw Jack would start texting and then stop indicating that he didn't have a good comeback for that one.

How could he?

It had been a quick slip up a few weeks ago by Ace, but Clay simply brushed it off and thought nothing of it. You remembered him saying to Ace, ‘Well we do look alike, don’t we?’ And he quickly agreed.

And just then your phone went off indicating Jack was calling you.

"What?" You asked as you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be outside in 20 minutes and I want to see my son."

Once you hung up, Clay turned to you and asked you what he said.

“He said that he wants to see him, but my thing is that if you really did want to see him then you would have gotten him earlier. The last thing he better do when he comes in here is make a scene.”

Twenty minutes didn’t even pass before you heard knocking on the front door and you immediately rolled your eyes before getting up to answer it.

Once you did, Jack was clearly annoyed and was looking right past you to see where Ace was.

“Where’s my son?”

“Oh, so now he’s your son? Are there certain days of the week that you claim him or?”

“Y/N, I’m not doing this with you right now, where is Ace?”

“He’s with your brother in the kitchen if you must know and you better not go in there and make him upset.”

“Now, why would I make him upset?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Since all he knows you’re good for is disappointing him.”

Jack didn’t even bother to respond as he walked past you to come face to face with Clay playing with Ace.

Once Ace saw him, he quickly ran to hide behind Clay.

“Bubs, it’s me, daddy. No reason to be scared.”

All Ace did was peek out behind Clay’s leg who was trying to also tell him that it was okay.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come and get you today, but I promise that I will next time.”

This led to Ace shaking his head no and holding onto Clay’s leg tighter.

“Ace, what’s the matter?” Jack asked seeing as Ace had never acted this way towards him before.

“Daddy, you forgot about me….. Again.”

“I… I didn’t forget. Daddy’s just been really busy, but I’m here now.”

“Maybe if you actually showed up when you were supposed to this wouldn’t be happening.” Clay snapped at Jack as Ace quickly ran to you and you picked him up as he hid in the crook of your neck.

“Clay, I already get it enough from Y/N, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Well obviously you do, because hearing it from one person obviously isn’t enough! Now, why is your kid calling me daddy? Oh, right. Because his real dad actually ignores him.” Clay said while raising his voice at his older brother.

“I DON’T IGNORE MY SON!”

“WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU ACTUALLY SPENT TIME WITH HIM? I’VE SEEN HIM MORE TIMES SINCE HE’S BEEN ALIVE THAN YOU HAVE!”

At their heated exchange, Ace began to cry and you knew that you needed to put a stop to this immediately.

“Okay, you two, we’re done. Jack, get out.”

“If I leave, I’m taking Ace with me.”

“You are not taking MY son anywhere. Can’t you see how upset you made him? And I told you once you step foot in here not to upset him and you did the exact opposite. Just leave. You've done enough.”

Jack had let out a frustrated sigh as he was contemplating his next move. He stepped towards you, but was immediately blocked by Clay stepping in front of you.

“Just do what she asked you to do and leave.”

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[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 9: Heads Will Roll

vampire!eddie x supernatural!reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

18+ONLY, vampires, werewolves, mention of witches and ghouls, a pet demobat, a car accident, no smut in this, but definitely next chapter (the kind of non-dream vampire sex you've been so patiently waiting for), reader is taken.

summary: There's a new monster in town, and you are their target. An unlikely trio decides to join forces to get you back. The character Jareth in this is meant to be Jamie Campbell Bower.

word count: 3.6k

author's note: I almost put this on hiatus, but I need to find out how it ends, for my sanity, and I would be more than pleased if some of you wanted to ride it out with me, only a bit more to go. This is not as long as I initially intended, but the next part needs to be all one piece, so I had to split it up. Much love, hope you enjoy.

This chapter takes place right where part 8 left off

“Excuse me?” You balked, looking Jareth up and down there in the alleyway behind Main Vein. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Who did he think he was? 

A thousand year old vampire, probably.  Stronger and faster than Eddie or any vampire you’d met so far.

Jareth smoothed a thick strand of blonde hair behind his ear.  “That’s the problem you see. I wasn’t asking.”

A fog settled in among the cold, winter darkness, crowding in like doom.  Your eyes darted from side to side, trying to understand what you were up against.  Was Jareth alone? Where were those finicky “powers” when you needed them? Even if the superhuman strength you’d been touched with made an appearance, could you take on a vampire?

Did you have a choice?

But then, a wave of fear burned like thorns in your chest and your voice cracked.  “Is Eddie okay?  Did something happen to—-?”

The smile that spread across Jareth’s face was condescending.  “No harm has befallen your trailer park Romeo.  Not at my hand, for that matter.”

Not sure how to feel about that answer, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and took the first step away from him, on the way to your hearse.  

“Tsktsk,” he had black gloves on to match his long, leather coat.  “Now, I don’t want to take you by force, but I will if you give me no choice.”

You met his eyes with a defiant softness that made him realize, not for the first time, why Munson was clearly so enamored with you. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Truthfully, I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” he wet his top lip with the tip of his tongue, making eyes at the blood pumping in your throat.  “But I wouldn’t mind a taste.”

 You shrugged away from him. “Why should I go with you?”

“Because I said so,” he arched his brows, and then leaned forward. “And because I’ve had word that there’s a Ghoul in town looking for you.  I’m only interested in your safety.”

You glared at him.  “You’re only interested in yourself.”

“Feisty, I like it. Now, come on, this way,” he inclined his head.

You took a few steps and then stopped short.  “Wait, a ghoul?”

“Servants to the regional monster government, yes,” he said, like everyone should know that already.

You thought about Steve, waiting for you at the bookstore.  You thought about Bela waiting for you to let her out for her nightly fly.  

“How long will I be gone?”

“Until my people can figure out what the ghoul wants from you.”

“Why are you protecting me?” You shuffled in front of him.  

Jareth sniffed, unable to meet your gaze.  “On that note, I am not entirely sure,” he stepped a bit closer then, making you shuffle a step back.  “Call it curiosity, perhaps. You fascinate me, and very little keeps my interest these days.”

When his stare finally locked onto yours, you tried not to show fear under the laser focus of his natural intensity.  

You slipped into the passenger seat of his Porsche, smelling the leather and expensive cologne, and waited for him to get in beside you.  Just as he was about to start the engine, there was a loud bang and crash from above, like something heavy dropped hard and fast onto the roof of his car.

You couldn’t help the scream you let out, peeking up to see that there was, indeed, a dent caving in the metal as if a boulder had crashed into it. A figure leapt to the ground, landing in a crouch between the headlights.

Jareth’s lips peeled away from his teeth with a growl at the sight of Eddie standing there.

Eddie swiped his hair away from his face, expresion softening when he locked eyes with you. He cocked his head and mouthed the question, “are you okay?” 

You were just about to click your seatbelt on, but you threw it off with a thwack against the window and stepped out of the vehicle, ignoring Jareth’s protests.

Eddie’s mind raced. He’d been wanting to talk to you about the not so subtle layers of vampire etiquette, but the time was never right.  Then he was parking another stolen car in the bay at the chop shop and he’d felt your discomfort, the spike in your adrenaline.  Without any vampire claim on you, your blood and your body were fair game to others.  If he could make the claim that you were his, the rest of them would have to stay away.  Even the older, stronger ones like Jareth.  

Eddie went around to your side of the Porsche and met you there, searching your face to see if you’d been hurt. 

“Where did you…how did you?” You stammered. 

He came to your side, so close that his hand brushed the back of yours.  He was breathing heavily, staring at your lips, aching to touch your cheek, to kiss you.

Jareth slammed his car door. “You’re going to pay for the repair, Munson,” he sneered, taking stock of the obvious dent made from his landing.

Eddie licked his lips and moved his jaw as if he were about to say something to you, but then his face tensed when he turned to Jareth. 

“You need to know that she is mine,” his throat dried up when he caught the side glance of your head swiveling to get a better look at the words that were coming out of his mouth. Fully expecting to have you cut him off and disagree, he continued.  “I claim her as my mate.”

Your first urge was to challenge the sentiment, but Eddie pinched the side of your hand and pulsed there a few times to let you in on his intentions.  

“Is this true?” Jareth’s stare bore into you.

You decided to trust your friendly neighbor. “Um, yes, I’m with him,” you were sure that any and all lies would be instantly detected, but the truth was, you didn’t mind saying it.  

“Well, that is unfortunate,” Jareth cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, I advise you to come with me.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie took his chance and snatched your hand in his.  You liked the feel of it, so you let him. “Where are you taking her?”

Jareth’s eyelids fluttered as if he were bored to death. “If you must know, there is a Ghoul named Brenner in town who's been asking questions about your…mate.” He bit the final word out sarcastically.  

At the mention of Brenner’s name, Eddie stiffened. It was familiar to him, more familiar than he wanted to admit. He shifted uneasily to interlace his fingers with yours.

“And a witch, a very powerful one,” Jareth confirmed.  “Possibly even a necromancer.”

You weren’t certain what that meant, but realization seemed to dawn on Eddie’s face. 

You turned to get a good look at Eddie, to search his eyes as if he had the perfect answer for how you should answer that, but his milk chocolate orbs only mirrored your search for answers.

There was also something else behind his eyes, a type of silent pleading that you couldn’t put your finger on.

The truth was, you had no idea you were special.  Not even after that day back in your hometown when you were able to push a man out of the way and stop a moving truck with your bare hands so that it would not crush the both of you.  He’d been going way too fast, about to run a stop sign.  The driver told people your eyes were all white, void of iris or pupil, and there were two indentations left in the metal grill where your hands had been.  

Your father had not explained the weight of your new gifts before he passed.  You liked to think that he hadn’t known, how could he? 

While you’d stood there talking, the fog had grown more substantial, it had weight and texture, so much so that you had to squint to see Jareth on the other side of the car.

“Wait,” Jareth held his hand up, squinting into the haze around him.  “Did you hear that?”

No mistaking, there it was again, a whooshing noise, along with the soft timber of chanting voices.  

You watched in horror as Jareth’s body seized, trembling where he stood as if being controlled by puppet strings, eyes rolling back in his head.  His jaw went slack and his head bent back.

Someone or something was controlling him, possessing his body.

“What is happening?” You gasped, clinging to Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie was already on the move, pulling you toward him to take you into his arms and run. “But I don’t want to wait to find out.”

But he wasn’t fast enough

You felt his body go rigid, too, hand falling limp in your grasp

You turned to find him in a similar state; eyes quivering back into his head, body stiff and vibrating as if he were caught in the grip of some strange, upright sleep paralysis.  

“Eddie, no!” You cried, reaching up to take his face in your hand. Every muscle in his body was tense and his breathing shallow.  

“Eddie, you’re scaring me!” You choked on your fear, tugging at his arm.

But then there came another sound, one that made your blood run cold.

“I control the dead,” a soft, feminine voice said.  “And it just so happens that your sweetheart and his friend are no longer living, if you hadn’t noticed.”

You spun around in a circle, seeing no one.  “Who are you? What do you want?”

She appeared to you then, like a vision.  Long, ebony hair and a dark purple velvet cape, her sharp green eyes were familiar to you in a way you didn’t understand.   

“I want you, Dove,” she said with a sly grin.

The woman said something else, in language you didn’t recognize, and she blew some type of dust into your face from the palm of her hand. 

You were able to let out the first part of a scream for help before your knees buckled and you were falling into an inky abyss.

—----

Since you were late, Steve was on his way over from the bookstore to check on you when he heard your broken, shrill cry.

He called your name and started to jog, peering in through the blanket of fog that was finally beginning to dissipate.  

He vaulted over the hood of one of the cars, pouncing into the street just in time to see the SUV with the tinted windows speed away from the curb, tires squealing.

“Hey!” With a growl, and a red glow to his eyes, he ripped his clothes off as he ran, turning into wolf form along the way.  He was sleek and dark gray, so fast and agile, wearing the night like a cloak.

He chased the vehicle into the night, eventually keeping pace with it through the forest, no matter how much it picked up speed.

—-----

In the shadows of an abandoned building near the tracks with broken out windows and a crumbling roof, Eddie gave a few tight blinks of his eyes; they felt dry and itchy, like someone had thrown salt in them.  There were slabs of broken concrete and a metal beam in front of him from the half-demolished structure.  The air smelled like rat feces and urine, and he was seated on the ground with his hands behind his back.

He shifted to test the strength of his restraints and hissed in pain as the silver chain around his neck and wrists burned him, making a sizzling noise like eggs in a frying pan.

“It’s no use,” the deep voice behind him said.

“Jareth?” Eddie turned his head and cringed in pain again.

Both of them were secured to a thick, cement pillar, facing away from each other.

“Are we alone?”

“As far as I can tell,” Jareth said in his typical, monotone voice. 

“What the hell was that?”

“The witch I warned you about would be my guess,” Jareth returned flatly. “And if you hadn’t slowed us down, we might have had a chance to escape her.”

Eddie went silent, trying to concentrate on the magic force that connected him to you through the sharing of each other’s blood, but he couldn’t hear you…couldn’t feel you, and that worried him more than anything.  

“What is she going to do with her?”

“I am ancient, but I am not a psychic,” Jareth drolled. 

Just then, a huge wolf with red eyes leapt through the gaping hole on the side of the building and trotted over to them, panting, huge tongue lolling out of its mouth of jagged teeth.  Both Eddie and Jareth bared their fangs as the beast closed in on them, sniffing the air as it went. 

Steve morphed back into his human form then, and stood before them completely naked.

Eddie retracted his fangs and tried to look anywhere but at the package on the new arrival. “Jesus christ, put that thing away, man.”

“Where is she?” Steve looked around at the empty expanse, trying to get a glimpse of you.  “I can’t smell her anymore.”

“That’s because she’s not here, you mongrel,” Jareth sighed, annoyed. 

“Did you see where they went?” Chain link welts formed on Eddie’s neck.  “The ones who brought us here?”

Steve worked his jaw, angry with himself.  “I kept up for as long as I could, but then I lost them on the freeway and had to find the scent again.”

Eddie threw his head back against the concrete pillar with a curse.

“Well?” Jareth interrupted the moment of silence. “You could help us out of these restraints if you wanted to make yourself useful.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Steve gave him a glare, his breath like smoke in the frozen air.  “Or I could just leave you to rot.”

“I will spend the rest of my immortal life making you regret that decision—” Jareth’s voice began to raise.

“Enough,” Eddie grunted. “We will be stronger in numbers,” his eyes met Steve’s with a sincere urgency. “She’s in danger.”

“We’ll need to find shelter before dawn,” Jareth reminded him. He looked up at the opening in the concrete with a view of the stars.  In a few hours, the sun would turn them to ashes.  “Or we will perish.”

Steve tucked his chin, willing to set aside his loathing of fangers long enough to get you back, and squatted down to get to work unraveling the massive chain that pinned the two vampires together.  

—----

You could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, or whatever type of spell they had you under, watching the lights from the freeway cut by through half lidded eyes. Inside, you were screaming at yourself to move, to wake up.  

Propped up in the back seat, seatbelt across your lap, your forehead against the window.  You couldn’t see the person driving, but in the passenger seat was the woman with long black hair.  Every time your eyelids fluttered open on an inhale, she was watching you over her shoulder.  

“Dr. Brenner will be pleased,” a man’s voice said, possibly from behind the wheel.  “Why he is so desperate to have her, I will never know.”

“He wants her because she is the only one of her kind,” the woman gave a sarcastic cough of a laugh, as if your value should be obvious.  “Reanimated tissue fused with gamma radiation and witch magic?  If he could bottle her strength and regeneration capabilities, he'd be unstoppable.”

“The vampire boyfriend, is he going to be a problem?” the driver asked.

You drifted awake to see the woman’s profile, stoic in the moonlight.

“They’ll be dead by the time the sun comes up,” she sniffed.  “For all the bragging they do about immortality, all it takes is a bit of silver and sunlight to eliminate them.”

Your heart rate picked up, alarms going off inside of you.  A scream caught in your throat but wasn’t able to form a complete sound.  

Something clicked in your brain, and a shift began to take place.

Electricity buzzed under your skin, licking all of your nerves and cells awake.

A change was happening.  

The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror.  “You sure we don’t have to worry about her waking up?”

The woman scoffed.  “She’ll be out for at least another hour, and then she’s Brenner’s problem.  I didn’t just put any old spell on her, that one could put down a team of elephants.’

There was nothing but the sound of tires on the pavement for a few seconds and then the SUV swerved and the man behind the wheel cursed.

“What the hell was that?” He huffed, struggling to get back into his lane. Something huge had swooped down from the sky in front of them, something with the wings of a bat and legs like an octopus.  

Headlights came toward the window and someone honked for them to move out of the way. 

“I didn’t think there were any demobats on this side,” the woman mused, wondering if that was what she saw, or if her eyes were playing tricks on hre.  “They hate humans.”

There came the sound of scratching on the roof

SCRTCH SCRITCH SCRITCH

And then an animalistic yowl, like the caw of a prehistoric bird.

Bela dove again, but this time, she attached herself to the windshield, obscuring the driver’s view of the road.  

He swerved again, tires catching in the loose gravel of the median, and she flew off the glass.

“Don’t you have any magic to get rid of this thing?” The guy whined.

“I can’t control demobats, no one outside of the Upside Down can.”

“When that fucker comes around front again, I’m gunning it.  Splatter the thing all over the road.”

Behind them, you moaned, brow furrowed, fingers clawing at nothing.  Your muscles throbbed like they were being pulled apart.  

Bela flew into the side window opposite you with a thump, making a spiderweb crack and the glass, and then she rammed at it again.  

“This fucking thing is gonna get in here,” the man spat.

“Just drive faster you moron! It can’t keep up with us.”

He yanked the wheel, pulling the vehicle to the side to try and hit her, but she was already in the air and off again. 

You rolled back in your seat as the speed increased with a jolt, and for a moment, there was peace.

The driver checked the rearview mirror again.  “I think we lost it,” his attention snapped to the woman with the inky black locks.  “What the fuck was that about?”

She was mid-shrug in response to his question when Bela charged the windshield, landing with enough force again to splinter the glass.

This time, there was no wiggle room when he swerved as a semi truck was barreling down on them in the opposite direction, blaring its horn.

The SUV jerked right, tires catching at the lip of a dry irrigation ditch, and then they rolled.  There was the sound of shattering glass and the sickening crunch of twisted metal while the two in the front seat let out shrill screams.

And then everything was quiet.  

—-------

Back at Eddie’s trailer, Jareth paced outside while Eddie found Steve something to wear.  

“These good enough? I think they’ll fit,” he tossed a few things on the couch. Eddie changed out of his leather and slipped on a black hoodie, in case he needed to hide his hair and be in disguise for some reason. 

Still in his birthday suit, ass on full display, Steve’s expression was bitchy as he pinched the material to lift it up for a better look.

“A ratty jean vest?” Steve raised a brow.

Eddie popped a cigarette between his lips, crinkling up the empty soft pack of Camel’s in his hand.  “Sorry the maid hasn’t come to do laundry today, Princess. Those are the only two things I have that are clean.  Take it or leave it.”

“Fine,” Steve rolled his eyes. The jeans he was borrowing had ripped holes in the knees and the shoes were white Reebok high tops.  “I’m usually able to plan better when I shift,” he mumbled, stepping into the pant legs, gently tucking his cock inside to avoid the teeth of the zipper.

Once they’d been freed from the restraints at the abandoned building, Eddie hotwired a cement mixer from a nearby construction site, and then they swung by downtown to see if any of the clothes Steve had worn earlier were salvageable in the street, but they’d been obliterated like a bomb went off. 

“Just do me a favor and take that off before you bust out of it in another transformation, cool?”

Eddie turned away to take a drag from his smoke while Steve inspected the patches on the battle jacket with a frown.

And that was when it happened.

Like the ringing of a phone in his head

A spasm in his chest

He could feel you calling to him

“This is it,” he screwed his eyes shut, trying to zero in on the emotions you were radiating. 

“This is what?” Steve stood in front of the mirror under the clock, adjusting the collar of the vest and raking a hand through his hair.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open, tip of his tongue resting between his lips.  He sprang behind Steve on his way to the door, clapping him on the shoulder.  “It’s showtime.”

-----

thank you so much for reading xoxox

------

Taglist: @trixyvixx@sllooney@writinginthetwilight@sidthedollface2@atomickaratel8dy @probablyin-bed @kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n @jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll@brassreign@likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak@onegirlmanytales@angietherose@probablyin-bed@reidsbtch@moonbeamsandmayhem@eddiesxangel@hideoutside@secretdryrose@nailbatanddungeon@thorfemmes@corkadymu@kellsck@mrsjellymunson@poofyloofy @dream-a-little-nightmare

[jcollinswrites]

How the fudge are you writting so fast??? I sit down to write and end up with nothing or reworking plot instead of writing 😭Have any tips you want to share? Perhaps the ingredients to the dark ritual you perform to get the motivation and remain focused 👀👀👀

So, first of all, you'll need half a newborn, shaken, not stirred…

lol jk (don't shake babies)

Believe it or not I'm the same as you, so here are some stuff that helped me tremendously, especially with my squirrel ADHD brain:

NUMBER ONE that I needed 20 years to learn, is that… forget editing, man. You can't edit if there is nothing to edit, so first you have to sit ya ass down and just fuckin' do it. It doesn't matter if it's shit at first. It's called work in progress for a reason. Who cares if it's shit? You can edit it LATER when the whole thing is already done. What you're reading in my game is literally my first draft. Lots of scenes might change later. In fact, I'm already changing scenes in the background, I'm just not always telling you. It doesn't matter. If anyone gives you shit for it, tell them to kindly fuck right off.

Have a plan for the book (written down. Not just in your head). Don't even start writing until you have a plan for the entire book. It doesn't have to be detailed. Mine is just bulletpoints, but you should know which chapter will contain what, including plot points, character development, relationship progress etc, otherwise you'll get lost, especially in a big IF. And then as you get closer to the next chapter, you can work out more details in the plan to help the actual writing.

If you don't feel like writing a scene, then don't write it. Leave a placeholder word there (I use 'mandarin' because that word likely won't come up anywhere else in the text), and instantly move on to another scene that you have inspiration for. Later, you can just search for 'mandarin' and add the scene when you feel like it. If you accidentally come across any MANDARINs in my game, that's the reason lol.

If you are writing an IF, it helps to start simple. Write the story until a choice comes up, then write the title of the choices, and continue ONLY with the route you feel the most inspired for atm (use mandarin for the rest). Don't let your momentum die by getting bogged down in choices. That's why I have so many greyed out choices when I start a new origin or chapter. I just write write write until the end of the chapter, THEN I go back to whatever choice is the simplest to add, and put the variations in the already-existing text if needed. Repeat until all the choices are written and coded in. This way, the text might feel more organic too, because you already have a pre-written skeleton that you can just add variations in.

Keep notes. It helps to have them on paper, next to you, so f.ex. when you make 9 different deities to choose from, you don't have to go back to the beginning of the chapter every single time to look up which deities those were and what they mean, you can simply turn your head to the side lol.

Take regular breaks. Exercise, stretch. Keep a daily schedule. Eat and drink enough. Try to keep a good health. Your brain won't work if it's starved.

Know yourself and your habits, and be honest with yourself. I know of myself that once I start working on the big plot points, I won't have any motivation to come back to the beginning again. That's why I'm writing all the origin stories first, because I know that if I start going into chapter 2, I definitely won't feel like coming back to start yet another route from the very beginning. So if you don't feel like doing something, then just… don't do it. Or do it simpler. Do it smarter. Trick that asshole brain into cooperating.

Last but not least, guys, 90% of my motivation COMES FROM YOU! Your engagement, your messages, your feedback, every little interaction is what keeps me going! So write me! I will answer! (if you aren't a dick). Literally, about anything. Even if it's just "hey I really liked this small detail here", that will already make my day, seriously. I LOVE talking about my work, and I'm pretty sure every author is like that, so keep engaging with writers, because that's 90% of the reason when a novel gets finished! I'm writing for YOU! Your enjoyment, your fun, because I love telling stories, but those stories don't mean anything if no one is reading them.

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

How Not to Compartmentalize by Evan Buckley

BuckTommy fic

Summary: Evan tries to hold back about a bad day at work. When Tommy doesn't allow that, it opens the flood gates and Evan confesses that he's been trying to hold himself back. Tommy matches that and confesses something as well.

**

There is a pattern starting to develop, Tommy is pretty sure. Evan and him are firefighters, so stress on the job is a given. They potentially put their lives on the line every time they step off that fire engine. Tommy has discovered that his and Evan’s way of processing that stress on the real tough days are vastly different, and who’s to say which way is better. It probably lands somewhere in the middle. Tommy will compartmentalize the hell out of a call that goes south, putting all his mistakes into a box to open up again when he feels like it. His therapist has told him more than once that remaining stoic isn’t the best way to process heavy emotions.

Then there’s Evan, who feels everything with such intensity. His emotions are constantly boiling over, and that goes for everything - no one has to guess what Evan is feeling at any given time. Something that Tommy loves so much about him, has even taught Tommy to let the tight grip he has loosen a little bit. Once they got more settled into their relationship and Evan shows Tommy just how enthusiastic he is about learning the wonders of sleeping with a man, things shift a bit. Evan used to get openly mad at himself when he’s with Tommy, going through each call and speculating what he could have done to be better. Tommy is always there to listen and talk through it - always there to help Evan carry the load.

More and more Tommy starts to notice that Evan isn’t quite his talkative self after the bad days. He'll still go on and on about some article he read that was interesting but when Tommy asks about work, he gets more and more vague. It’s morphed into Evan slumping next to Tommy on the couch and huffing out a quick, “bad day” and pulls Tommy in for a deep kiss. Tommy will usually lose track of the conversation once Evan starts humming into Tommy’s mouth and asking him to do things that Tommy has no choice but to oblige.

It’s today that Tommy can’t ignore it any longer. He’s on day two of his three days off and tidying around his kitchen after a quick dinner. He knows that it’s Evan’s third day working and he’ll be off late and probably going straight to bed to sleep for 12 hours. His phone dings with a text from Eddie saying, “Real bad one today, Buck’s okay. He got stuck for a bit on the last call and got cleared by Hen and Chim. Bobby released him early.” Tommy shoots him a quick thank you text right as he gets a text from Evan that just says, “off early, coming over.” His stomach ties into a knot, half worried about the state of his boyfriend and half worried that Evan will just gloss over what he just went through.

Twenty minutes later Evan is letting himself into Tommy’s house with his spare key, gracelessly dumping his duffle bag by the door. Tommy goes to greet him at the door ready to catch him however he needs.

“Eddie let me know you were in a bit of a situa-” Tommy is cut off mid sentence as Evan rushes him, grabbing both sides of his face and crushing their lips together in a brutal kiss. Tommy reads anger and fear in the kiss. Even in his silence, Evan’s emotions bleed out, staining everything in proximity.

Tommy disconnects their lips by pushing gently on Evan’s biceps, holding him close and searching his face. “We have plenty of time for that, not going anywhere. Why don’t we talk about what happened? I’m still in the dark over here.” Tommy is pleading with his eyes as he watches Evan’s eyes turn glassy and dead.

Evan grabs the front of Tommy’s t-shirt and pulls him backwards in the direction of Tommy’s room. “Yeah.. sure - we can talk, in here.” Evan responds but his tone isn’t matching the words - like his mouth is on autopilot and thinks that will assuage Tommy.

Tommy will humor Evan until they get into the bedroom, standing at the end of the bed where Evan’s hands slip under Tommy’s shirt and wastes no time exploring the expanse of his back. But once Evan’s mouth is on his neck busy leaving wet kisses and teasing licks, Tommy steels himself. He can’t let Evan go on this track of not dealing with something probably traumatic and keeping it to himself. He manages to wiggle out of Evan’s iron grip on his shoulder blades, taking a hold of both hands in a close to crushing grip and sits down firmly on the edge of the bed. Tommy’s looking up at Evan now who has a dazed and confused look on his face.

“Okay, we’re here,” Tommy starts keeping his tone even. “Now we talk.” Evan squeezes his hands and heaves a sigh, hanging his head. Tommy thinks he’s got Evan and is ready to bear the weight of what Evan’s gone through today. Evan lets go of his hands and closes in on Tommy to come down onto the bed to straddle his lap. Evan focuses on smoothing down Tommy’s shirt on his shoulders and blows out a long breath, blowing out all the air taking some of the tension out with it.

Tommy tries to wait him out, but the silence gets too thick and uncomfortable. “Baby?” Tommy whispers hoping to at least manipulate a semi doey eyed look out of Evan with the pet name. Evan’s gaze is locked onto Tommy’s mouth giving him zero reaction.

“I don’t want to be too much,” Evan barely says, more like he is just breathing the words out and not actually saying them. Evan’s eyes are forming a wet sheen and still a thousand miles away.

“What? What was that, Evan?” Tommy encourages him and squeezes his waist, rubbing his thumbs back and forth.

“I said I - uh, I,” Evan swallows and meets Tommy’s concerned eyes. “I’m too much. Too needy.” Evan’s voice just about cracks on the last syllable.

Tommy still has zero context for what Evan is clearly battling with at the moment. While he thinks about how to tackle this with his boyfriend he wraps his arms around Evan’s waist grabbing his wrist and holding tight. Now Evan is securely caged in his arms, Tommy won’t let go even if the world collapses around them.

“Can you tell me what you mean by ‘too needy?’” Tommy gently asks. For a moment all Evan can do is squeeze his eyes shut.

He lets out a shaky breath, “I’ve been told I’m always too much, I go too far, that I’m ‘so needy,’” Evan explains, his mouth trembling slightly. Tommy stays quiet, giving him room to speak. “And- and you. You’re always so calm, even on the worst days. I can never do that. I get so fucking jealous of you, Tommy.” Evan heaves a heavy sigh. He looks pleadingly into Tommy’s eyes, “I thought that if i try to ignore the bad days and distract myself with you, maybe I could get there. Not let the hard days get to me so much. I’m just so fucking scared that you’ll get over my complaining and- and I’m too far gone about you to even risk that.” Evan frowns deeply and exhales hard, “Which I realize saying all that is the exact opposite of what I want to do. I don’t want to burden you.”

“Do you think you’re burdening me now?” Tommy asks. Evan nods minutely.

Tommy has never felt such urgency to correct someone in his life. He cannot go one more second having Evan believe that he is a burden and that Tommy doesn’t want all the weight of the baggage he carries around given to him to carry, at least for a little while.

“Oh, honey.” Tommy starts and lets go of his wrist to bring his hand to cup Evan’s face and rub his cheekbone. “Let me first start with I’m so far gone on you too, you’ve pretty much ruined me for anyone else.” Evan’s eyes are laser focused on Tommy’s now, so Tommy is taking full advantage of the attention. Tommy can just read in Evan’s eyes that he’s screaming for more and he is going to give Evan all he’s got.

“And you are not too much, not to me, never to me. Okay? I crave you all the time. You’ve crawled under my skin and I itch for you everytime you’re not with me. I’m so fucking lovesick that at work I’m constantly getting razzed for checking my phone every five minutes to see if you texted me. I’m pretty sure I know your schedule better than my own at this point. I’ve memorized how long it takes you to get here from work or your place and get butterflies as soon as I hear your Jeep rumble up.” Evan’s lips have parted slightly and soaks in all this information.

Tommy feels a little embarrassed about divulging all this to Evan, because yeah, he prides himself on being calm, cool, and collected. But with Evan it’s different, he doesn’t have to be the “cool guy” he can just be Tommy who laughs easily at Evan’s lame jokes and smiles ear to ear whenever he says an interesting fact. He is telling himself now to be more vocal with Evan about both the good and bad days. If Evan can do that, he can relearn to do it too.

“And I’ve done a lot of work to help me deal with everything about myself - my sexuality, my job, my fear of standing out,” Tommy confesses. “I’ve actually gotten too good at compartmentalizing to an unhealthy point. You’re helping me be more open and be okay with feeling frustrated and disappointed about work. And I can’t wait to learn more from you,” Tommy smiles and Evan scoffs at that. “Hey, I mean that. Your passion and enthusiasm is so goddamn refreshing. Especially here in LA, in a very masculine viewed job.”

Evan deflates and presses his forehead to Tommy’s, and before he gets too distracted with Evan’s lips right there for the taking he needs to let Evan know, “You are not a burden. It would burden me more seeing you carry all this on your own. I’m here, use me. Lean on me, baby. That’s what this is all about. Good, bad, ugly, I want it all. I need your neediness. I want more than anything for you to pull me into the mud with you. Because that’s where I belong. With you. You’re not getting rid of me easily.” Tommy pulls back just enough to look into Evan’s eyes and nod in a question. Right now he needs Evan to believe him. Evan nods back and all but consumes Tommy’s mouth in a bruising kiss. The kiss is as rough as before but Tommy feels a difference there; need, desperation, want. Tommy swallows all of it gratefully.

There’s heat building in his belly and he can’t help the moans that start to leak out from the back of throat. Tommy has the man of his dreams in his lap moaning back with just as much want, he’s not about to waste that. With a practiced ease, Tommy swings Evan over so he’s laying on his back. He stares down at Evan with blown out pupils. He balances on his hand and places the other on Evan’s jaw, touching his swollen lips. “If it wasn’t clear I love you so fucking much. I honestly don’t know who I am anymore without you, Evan.” Tommy isn’t scared of saying that now, they’ve destroyed the last wall standing in between them.

Evan hums and smiles big and bright for the first time tonight and Tommy swears he feels sun on his skin. Evan reaches out to lace his fingers behind Tommy’s head, “Show me how much,baby. I- I need it. Need you,” Evan tries out that once dreaded word with newfound confidence. He pulls Tommy back down to his lips. “I love you too by the way. So much I don’t know what to do sometimes,” Evan says against Tommy’s lips.

Tommy promises to prove to Evan that he needs him just as badly; needs him like oxygen. He fucks Evan slow and deep, relishing all of the moans and words falling between them. And if one or both feel wetness in their eyes, they don’t mention it.

After two orgasms each, they get comfortable in Tommy’s bed to rehash the day. Tommy faithfully nodding along and letting Evan express everything. Tommy smiles to himself. The weight feels good.

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[muzsmoux]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 13

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* References to past sexual encounters, a dash of angst, light gambling (friendly wager on cards), Reference to the Civil War, family drama/angst, brief mentions of blood drinking, tooth rotting fluff. Summary: Off on an adventure to Gilded Age New York City, the train ride has as much excitement in store as you could possibly have expected from the entire trip. Notes: A short but emotionally impactful chapter this week, my loves! Please enjoy a glimpse at a Pullman sleeper car. They're honestly pretty beautiful and comfy and I'd love to travel in one 💚

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

Your breath is even, making your chest rise and fall slowly against his cool body. Wrapping around him as if you are afraid he would leave this bed while you rest. Even in sleep, your blissful sighs are soft and content, worn out by the endless hours Max had wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you. Learning your limits and everything that you like and dislike when a man has his tongue buried in your warmth. His own smirk is self-satisfied and slightly smug from the number of times you had called out to the gods because of the pleasure.

Hours later, after sleeping the morning and even some of the afternoon away and having an afternoon tea that is the equivalent of a Gilded Age light lunch, Mr. Taylor is loading your trunks onto the carriage that Emmanuel has arrived in to take you all to the train station. While your mother is saying a very sweet goodbye to her own mother, you and Max are standing just at the doorstep with Yayo.

“When you return we will discuss your intent to return home,” he tells you quietly, keeping his choice of words intentionally enigmatic. “For now, enjoy yourselves. I understand the Vanderbilts have offered you their guest rooms so you do not have to stay anywhere as impersonal as a hotel?”

Max smirks slightly and nods. “We have accepted the gracious invitation and will be a sterling example of the Brown name.” While Max is not using the same last name, he understands that his sire has vouched for him and any scandal would fall back on his reputation.

“Enjoy yourselves.” What Yayo has not told you is that he had given Max something of an allowance to be used while you are in New York, making sure that the group of you will be able to dine, shop, and travel as you see fit for your five-day trip. You’re even taking Renee with you, as you and Annie will doubtlessly need the help dressing for your many outings and dinners, and it would put a strain on the Vanderbilt’s staff if they had to supply two young ladies with a suitable maid for almost a week. Emmanuel’s valet has been instructed that he will also be dressing Max during the trip. It’s all…extraordinarily overdone, in your opinion. But as vacations go? It might be the single most luxurious one you’ll ever take in your life. So you intend to enjoy it.

“We intend to.” You assure your grandfather after he shakes Max’s hand and places a very paternal kiss on your cheek. “Thank you. I know this means the world to Annie.”

Max watches the exchange between you and your grandfather with soft affection. The knowing glint in the elder vampire’s eyes was telling and he had been subtly warned to take care of both you and your mother while off on this trip.

“And be sure to call on the Astors just to be polite.” He urges. The Astors and Roosevelts had been welcoming to you at the ball after finding out that you and Max were considered family.

“We’re having dinner there on Wednesday.” Getting that invitation had been thrilling as all hell. Just about as thrilling as when Max came to you seconds later to excitedly tell you that the Vanderbilts had offered you lodging. Max had been very popular last night.

“Very well.” Max’s sire nods seriously and glances at your soulmate. “We will see you when you return.”

Still in an extremely good mood from last night and from this morning, you lend your grandfather a smile before stepping away from the door to get into the carriage. "Enjoy having some peace and quiet."

Cookie slides up to her soulmate’s side and wraps her arm through his with a sly smirk. “We will.” She promises as she winks at you.

The carriage is large enough for the four of you to pile into, and the clear sky of the day means that Renee and Emmanuel's valet happily sit with the driver. The chilly October day is still sunny this afternoon and by the time you reach the train station and are loaded on board, the pinks and purples of sunset streak the sky through the windows of the Pullman car to light up the green and bronze colored interior brilliantly.

“This is niiiiiice.” Max knows none of the others will get the reference, but you will understand the tone as he examines the interior of the carriage with great enthusiasm.

Barely managing not to snort when you laugh, you have to cover your face and clear your throat to get your composure back when Emmanuel looks at you both quizzically. “It is exceptionally luxurious. And very kind of you to share your car with us.”

“This could feel like the elegant parlor in a home.” Max offers, reaching out and touching the pillow that it sitting in a cushioned chair.

“We have teased my mother that she spent more time styling the family’s car than she did choosing names for us all,” Emmanuel jokes, looking around the space with pride. “It is rather splendid though, is it not?”

“I think you could comfortably live in something like this.” Max is fully aware of the future, but it’s still a nice thought. Traveling by rail and touring the country is far more romantic than driving in an RV.

“Perhaps we should.” A squeeze of his hand makes him more than aware that you’re teasing, but you still wink playfully. “Travel the country in a Pullman car to decide where to live? It sounds positively luxurious.”

Max arches a brow at Emmanuel teasingly. “Happy wife, happy life, that’s my motto. Sounds like I might be ordering one from you. What all can go into one?”

The look of delight on Emmanuel’s face is like Christmas two months early, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as your mother’s soulmate embarks on an obviously passionate listing of all the perks and practical benefits of long-term train travel in these cars specifically. “I think he enjoys talking about his family’s business,” you observe to Annie wryly.

“He is very proud of it.” She murmurs back, pride on her own face as she watches the two of them discuss business. “His dream to is run the company one day after his grandfather passes.”

“I’m sure they will be very proud to have him take over.” Knowing that the man will not survive that long makes you swallow your regret, but there is nothing you can do about it. History cannot be changed. If you interfere to spare your mother’s heartbreak, you will literally never be born.

"With the right woman by his side." She giggles quietly and bites her lip as she nearly vibrates with excitement. Emmanuel had asked to speak to her father just this morning and she's sure that a proposal is coming.

“Give him time.” Not having vampiric hearing, you’re unaware of what happened downstairs this afternoon while you were getting dressed to leave Newport. “Do not be disappointed if he takes a little time.”

"He spoke with father." She leans into whisper in confidence, breaking out into a large, happy grin. "I have a feeling that we will be engaged by the Astor's ball!"

“That will be quite the souvenir to return home with from the city.” It would be a wonderful thing for her right now, obviously, but you dread the idea that she might take your new found friendship so straight forwardly and do something like ask you to be in her wedding party. Something you would have to say no to.

"I think I might die!" She giggles dramatically and collapses against your arm. "He is just so perfect. And I've decided that I will ask him about his scars tonight."

“Then we might have a very eventful trip indeed.” She’s so happy and it’s intense and infectious and so very sweet — you can’t help but hug her as she stands beside you. “I would ask if you are excited to see the Vanderbilts again but I think you must have spent a lot of time with them.”

"Despite my father thinking little of their plans to tear down the cottages and build a bigger home, he quite likes them." She shrugs. "They have been very kind, especially when in social gatherings."

“With six children, I can only think the house must be very crowded.” There were so many times as a child that you had wished for that many siblings, but as an adult the idea of giving birth to six kids makes you want to carry a bottle of Advil out of fear.

"I cannot even imagine." Annie shakes her head and bites her lip. "I don't think I would want that many children myself."

“Neither do I.” Ah. Interesting to know after the fact that you were an only child because your mother very reasonably didn’t want to put her body through that. That sounds very much like your pragmatic mother.

"Although, mother assures me that father has the most delightful pain tonic to help with the pains." She sighs softly. "I was never lonely like some expected me to be as an only child."

“Then you were very lucky.” Before you can say more, which is probably for the best, the conductor comes around to ask the four of you to settle in for the beginning of the journey. There is a table and set of four chairs in the center of the car for you to sit together, and Emmanuel reaches into his pocket to pull out a deck of cards. “Shall we amuse ourselves before dinner?” He offers, putting the deck on the table before holding Annie’s chair out for her to sit comfortably

"Absolutely." Max has learned how gentleman play cards in this time and finds it fascinating.

"Shall I pour you ladies a sherry to enjoy?" Emmanuel asks, motioning to a bar cart set up in one corner.

“If we could have tea?” Annie quickly asks the gentleman before he leaves your car all together. He nods politely and exits. “I…have noticed that your wife does not often partake, Mr. Philips. I would not wish my dear friend to feel left alone.”

“It is true, my wife does not enjoy the taste of alcohol.” Max agrees. “It is not a bad thing, I find that the taste is rather bitter myself and dinners are far more reasonable with tea than a bottle of wine.”

“Then we will all have tea.” Emmanuel offers, once Max has you settled at the table. With the four of you sitting it’s a very happy atmosphere and Emmanuel begins to shuffle the deck.

Max shoots you a grin as he leans back and watches Emmanuel. “Aficionado, hmmmm? We’ll see. Perhaps we might have to make a wager if you are as good as you imagine you are.”

“How much?” The other man chuckles, feeling lively at the proposition.

“How about a nickel a hand?” Max asks, raising a brow playfully. When he had been a broke college kid, it had been quarter poker, but five cents is particularly generous in this time.

“That’s a very friendly wager, Max.” It makes the other man laugh again, and he nods. From the depths of his coin purse he is sure to unearth as many rounds’ worth of nickels as ever he should need. “A nickel a hand it is.”

Max grins and pulls out some bills to exchange for the nickels and divides them but between all of you.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a card player, but I'm happy to try." Modern poker, or Go Fish, or even a game of hearts on your laptop while you were in college was all fairly standard. But bridge has proven difficult for you to pick up, if a few nights of sitting at the card table with you mother and grandmother are anything to go by.

“Don’t worry.” Max reaches out and pats your hand. “Why don’t we keep the rules simple?”

"Just regular poker will do." Annie's grin is mischievous and instantly you're back at the dining room table with your parents on Sunday afternoons while they played cards and you did homework or colored or read a book. It seemed to be the only time you weren't twirling around the house like a sugared up cyclone.

He arches a brow at your mother and grins. “Regular poker it is.” Emmanuel laughs as he starts to dole out the cards to everyone. “Aces high, Jokers bust.”

It might be the most relaxed and most pleasant way to pass an evening that you’ve had in ages. No television to sit around, not all of you sitting individually on your phones. Just a card game and a pot of tea and friends. Although, it is particularly entertaining to watch Max realize that your mother is an exceptional poker player, which is definitely not what he had anticipated.

“Renee had a sweetheart in the war twenty years ago,” Annie explains through giggles at the table after she wins yet another hand. “He taught her the game after they played it at their camps so often, and she taught me.”

“Really?” Max has always been interested in the other vampire, wanting to know her story, but she’s surprisingly closed mouthed. “They must have had fun playing cards.”

“It was about one of the only fun things they did have.” Annie agrees, swallowing a sigh. “He was a part of a medical unit. The poor man survived the entire war and then succumbed to a fever barely a year after the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. She accepted being turned rather than continue to suffer, but her sweetheart refused.”

“That’s sad.” Max frowns slightly, not even able to imagine the loss of her lover. “Was he her soulmate? Or first love?”

“Renee’s soulmate was her sister.” Pausing at the appearance of the night’s second tea tray, Annie thanks the steward who brings it in and waits for them to leave before continuing. “He was her first love. But her family didn’t approve. She left home to be with him and still lost him, poor thing.”

“Her sister?” Max tilts his head curiously, knowing about platonic soulmates but he’s never heard of siblings who are soulmates. “Twins?”

“Indeed.” Annie nods, moving to pour tea out for everyone but you beat her to it. “It seems there was some sort of rivalry between her family and his, and except for her sister, they couldn’t see to forgive her for choosing him. They still exchange letters, but the post takes time.”

“Did her twin also become a vampire?” His eyes cut over to Emmanuel but the other man just looks up from his cards curiously. The subject of the undead obviously not phasing him at all.

“Martha wasn’t hit with the same fever that took Johnson and almost took Renee. She’s still back in West Virginia with their family.” Annie stops long enough to thank you for her cup, and fixes Emmanuel’s for him at the table. “They’re God-fearing people, Max. Renee still hasn’t told her sister how she survived the fever. She’s afraid Martha will cut her out, too.”

“No doubt, it would be better if a visit didn’t occur.” Max snorts, still bitter at the lack of relationship with his own parents.

“They would likely notice that she has not aged in twenty years.” This time Annie shakes her head, sipping her own tea to steady herself. “I am sure you know, but most vampires are forced to cut ties with their mortal families at one point or another.”

“Lucky for me, I cut ties before then.” Max huffs with a sardonic grin.

“And know you have a whole other family.” It’s very clear that Emmanuel sees only the silver lining as he sits back and smiles. “And it grows beautifully. Your sire, his family, and now your wife.”

“My wife is worth everything.” Max isn’t just playing to his audience, he means it. Taking your hand that isn’t wrapped around your card and kissing it softly.

While the ring is burning a hole in Emmanuel’s pocket, this is not the right time. He has already planned out when and where to ask Annie to be his bride, and a train car is not at all grand enough for such an important question. “You are very lucky to have found each other,” he observes instead. “To find one’s soulmate is a genuine blessing.”

“Yes.” Max winks at you and then glances at where Annie is fidgeting slightly, looking worried and eager all at the same time. “What about you, Mannie?” He asks, leaning back. “What kind of marks have you made to lead your soulmate to you?”

“Wherever she is, she has remained a mystery to me.” Which is a terrible disappointment, if he’s honest. He had always dreamed of something dramatic and romantic like seeing a shared mark on a lady’s arm at a ball. Since meeting Annie Brown, though, he has been glad that that never happened. The love he feels for her is far too deep to deny. “I have no marks from my soulmate. Only somewhere in the world, she wears the scar on her leg from when I fell off my horse as a boy.”

Max can feel the way Annie’s heart nearly leaps in her chest and your own hand squeezes his tightly. “Interesting. Which leg? I have to say that I am unfortunate enough that I don’t have scars either. Different circumstances, of course.”

“Of course.” Emmanuel chuckles lightly, not thinking anything of it. “It is my left leg. A rather unsightly mark, too. I ought to apologize to the lady for bestowing it on her if I ever were to meet her.” There is a deeply felt — a dearest hope — in his heart that it could be Annie. But he has been too afraid to ask and be disappointed.

She inhales sharply, eyes wide and hopeful and her cards are all but abandoned in her hand. “I am sure it’s not too bad.” She volunteers. “Just a mark slightly larger than the palm of my hand?”

“With a…” He swallows thickly, and suddenly Emmanuel cannot look away from the woman beside him for anything in the world. “A curve on one end…like the top of a cane…how could you…?”

Nodding almost frantically, Annie leans in and drops the cards to grab her beau’s hand. “Please tell me that this is the mark you are describing?” She begs. “Please tell me you are my soulmate.”

“It cannot be.” He has never thought that he could be this lucky. That the woman he had fallen in love with so quickly has found it in her heart to love him back is one thing. For her to truly be the other half of his soul is something truly remarkable. “Are we really to be twice blessed?” He clutches her hands tightly, knowing that to ask to see her bare leg is entirely out of the question but knowing that she recognizes his mark means the world.

Max smirks and looks over at you as you watch your mother look like the sun is shining just for her. “Should be in one of those romance books, hmmm?”

“We should give them some space.” If you don’t, there’s a chance that you might not be able to contain yourself, and that you might give something away by shedding tears instead of being happy for Annie. Watching your mother discover her soulmate is a gut punch that you hadn’t quite expected.

“Come.” Max senses how emotional you are and stands. “Shall we see our sleeping berth?”

You nod, trying your best to keep yourself composed while he helps you up and leads you to the two single-side beds on the far end of the car. Pullman cars aren’t equipped with doubles for married couples, but you’ll barely be a foot apart.

“Interesting sleeping arrangements.” Max ticks a brow up before he turns to you. “Are you alright, Queenie?” He asks, rubbing your arms gently. He knows this is a shock for you.

“I didn’t expect to be here for the reveal,” you admit, tucking into his side and letting yourself drop down onto one of the mattresses indiscriminately. “I’m okay. It’s a lot, though.”

“It’s okay to like Emmanuel.” He reminds you softly, dropping down beside you. “I hate that I would have loved to have him for the dreaded F. I. L.”

“He’s such a nice man.” A few tears break free as you bury your face in Max’s side. “And he makes her so happy.”

“And your father made her happy for the rest of her life.” Max wraps his arms around you and lets you cry. There’s no reason to chide you for it, considering that he feels emotional about it all too.

“I just wish there was a way for her to have it all,” you admit quietly. “Her soulmate, her second love, and her family. Everything that made her happy.”

“She gets to have you again.” Max comforts you softly. “Even if she doesn’t know that she should, she loves you. Just as you are.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t know everything that’s happened.” Knowing that Max will understand why, the best thing to do right now is just to stifle your tears with a handkerchief and try to recompose yourself. “And I’m glad that abuela doesn’t either.”

“I hate that we can’t tell them.” Max admits softly. “Let them change it.”

“I wouldn’t ever be born.” That is enough of a deterrent to keep you in line, but it still hurts your heart. “Or if I would be, I would be a different version of myself.”

“I love you, just as you are,” Max promises softly. “But if you could have not had the heartbreak, it would have been better for you.”

“It would have been better for you, too, love.” If you could have spared Max from suffering in any way you would have, but you squeeze his hands tightly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “But I love you, too. Just as you are.”

The skipping beat of his heart is fleeting and he turns his head to kiss you again, addicted to the sensation. “Too bad kissing other places doesn’t have the same effect.” He murmurs with a teasing grin.

"I was kind of hoping it would," you admit, cheeks immediately burning hot with the reminder of this morning. "It certainly makes my heart beat faster, though."

“I know.” Max leers and his tongue swipes over his lips in satisfaction. “I felt it. Every stuttering, skipping pulse as it throbbed through your sweet little pussy.”

"Max!" You may be on the other side of the train car, but there is still a chance that Annie and Emmanuel might hear him if they ever come up from the way their heads are bowed at the card table.

“What?” He huffs, grinning broadly at your embarrassment. “We’re married.”

"Yeah..." Huffing right back at him, you glance over at the other couple seriously. "And my virgin mother is in the same room," you remind him as quietly as possible.

“She might not be by the time this train goes home.” Max reminds you. “Not the way those two smell right now.”

"Oh gods, I did not need to know that." You poke his side and all but shudder. "I know it's a hundred years too early but she's still...her."

“Mommy had to have some sex.” He teases softly. “She had you. And she’s really old to have been a hundred-year-old virgin.”

“It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.” There was no need for you to. Not up to age eighteen. And then your parents became frozen in time in your mind’s eye. “You’re right, it’s just never something I’ve spent time on.”

“One day, our kids will have the same revelation.” Max hums. “Unless we are just freely sexual around them and they groan and roll their eyes, talking about horrible their parents are.”

“I know what Yayo said, but I’m trying not to get too excited about the idea of kids,” you admit, eyes dropping from his to your hands in his lap. “Just in case.”

“I know.” Max’s grin drops into a more serious expression and he covers your warm hands with a cool one. “If we don’t, we don’t. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll adopt a little shit and spoil them rotten if you want.”

“You’ve never mentioned having any vampiric children.” And you’ve never asked, so it’s not entirely on him. “I take it I’m not a stepmother?”

“I’ve—”Max frowns and blows out a useless sigh. “All but one was destroyed when— when I was.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t look at them like kids. Or I didn’t.” He snorts. “He’s in California for some fucking reason.”

“You have a son?” He may not look at his vampiric offspring as a child but you certainly do, and your eyes widen immediately. “I don’t even know where to start. I—tell me everything.”

“Okay….” He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s not a very long story, but I’ll tell you.”

“Short stories can still be interesting,” you remind him, finding yourself aghast that he just hadn’t mentioned it.

He shuffles slightly, embarrassed by his past behavior. “The guy who ruined my life? I got a job for the company he worked for.”

“Right.” Trying to conjure up every detail of information he has given you about that situation, you nod along with his explanation. “The telesales company.”

“Yep. I sold myself to management, using the vampirism as a business model. Convinced them sales would increase if they had a workforce of the undead. The company was going under and they were desperate for any Hail Mary.”

“So you…sired people at the office?” It seems more than slightly outrageous, but companies have surely done crazier things out of desperation.

“Yeah.” He huffs quietly. “I wanted to prove there was a better way, better reason to be a vampire.” He huffs. “And get revenge on that little annoying fucker.”

“So one of them is still alive?” The term makes you cringe, though, and you slump apologetically. “So to speak.”

“One, yeah.” He frowns slightly, bothered by all the people destroyed because of his selfishness more than he realizes. Maybe that was why he never truly fought against his punishment as he thought of his confinement to the Newport house. He felt as if he deserved much worse. Realizing now that you were all your grandfather had actually cared about.

“Hey.” One hand flat on his chest brings his attention back to you and you tilt your head at him quizzically. “What just happened in there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Max snaps back to you and bites his lip.

“You disappeared into your own head.” Unconsciously mirroring him, you bite your lip too. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I already pried.”

“No.” The best way to make Max open up is for you to blame yourself for something, even something small. “I just— I realized how many people died because of me.” He admits, wondering if that would change how you feel about him.

“You’re literally a different person than you were then.” You remind him gently. “And you’re living a completely different…afterlife.”

“Still…..” max closes his eyes. “It was seventy-three people.”

“Which is why you drink from donors now and make business deals in ink instead.” It isn’t much comfort, but at least you can show Max that he’s changed. He’s become a better man since his afterlife got upended. “Speaking of which…” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently. “You haven’t had any blood since we got here.”

“I know.” Max doesn’t want to admit that he’s starting to feel thirsty. “I’m alright.”

“You won’t be in another day or two.” And since the middle of that hunger and thirst will come during a trip away from the steady donor so helpfully supplied by your grandfather — under circumstances you absolutely don’t want to know about — you squeeze his hand again. “But I’m not going to let you go thirsty. I promise.”

Max shakes his head. “No, I’ll— I don’t want you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” You had shown you were squeamish about it and Max has not brought it up again. You had flinched once when he was going down on you and that was enough to cross it off the list of things he would do with you.

“I’m more comfortable with you drinking from me than I am with the thought of you sharing something so intimate with a complete stranger,” you admit. “You said yourself how deeply the connection can be felt.”

“You flinched.” He reminds you softly, telling himself it’s ridiculous to be hurt by that when it’s a normal reaction to fangs.

“Because I was afraid it might hurt.” The sheepishness — the embarrassment — in your quiet confession is very clear, and your eyes drop down to your hands again because your fear hurt him and you don’t deserve to look him in the eyes. “Not because I don’t want to take care of you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you think you should.” Max sighs. “I don’t want you to ever do something you don’t want with me. If you’re afraid it will hurt, I won’t do it.”

“Max…” You hadn’t expected him to protest, honestly thinking he would been overjoyed at the offer. It just goes to show that you’re not quite as adjusted to this relationship as you thought you were. You had expected him to just take without any thought, but that isn’t Max. Or, at least, that isn’t Max anymore. “Will you at least consider it?”

“If you want me to.” He doubts he would, but your brow is knitted with worry and he hates that.

“I want you to. To consider it and to do it. But not until you’re ready.” And part of That sense to be showing him that you aren’t afraid anymore, so you will do everything you can.

“I love you, Dolly.” Max whispers, offering you his hand. “I just don’t want to fuck up and hurt you.”

“I’d rather have a little bit of hurt from a bite than be hurt because I’ve lost you,” you tell him honestly. Him not feeding is not an option, just like it’s not an option for you not to eat, either.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Max promises. “If I had to eat someone, I would, just to stay with you.”

"You don't have to, though." Looking back up at him, your gaze is surprisingly steady. "And I can stay with you forever, too."

“Mrs. Phillips, are you proposing to me?” He’s grinning, but he sounds scandalized. “How terribly modern of you.”

“I suppose I am, in a way.” It wasn’t what you had meant to do — not strictly speaking — but at the heart of it is the same conversation. That you want to be with him. Just him. For as long as you possibly can.

“Makes sense.” Max tells you. “Since we are married.” He looks at you softly and reaches into his pocket. “You want to be with me? Forever?”

“I really do.” The certainty is extraordinary. Something you never truly thought would ever happen. It here you are, with his hand in yours, and you know in your heart that you will do anything in your power to stay with him.

Max decides that it might not be the most glamorous thing, but he slides off the bed and kneels down in front of you. “Dolly, Queenie, my soulmate…” He starts, his cockiness fading and there’s a naked, earnest expression in his eyes. “I never thought I would be able to have you. You are perfect, better than I ever dreamed and I am not even worthy of you, but for some reason, you want me.” He takes a small, leather box out of his pocket. “Will you roam the earth with me and experience eternity together?”

“Oh gods…” If someone had asked you the least likely things to happen to you in the entire world, this would have been on the list. Your soulmate, a happy relationship, engagement and marriage — all of these things. They were put on a shelf out a reach and you didn’t ever think your arm would stretch that far for the rest of your life. But here in this train car it’s Max that you reach for, tearing up and giggling softly and feeling your whole self light up brightly with “Yes!”

It’s pure relief that has Max grinning, thankful and happy that someone finally put him first. Someone, the most important someone, believed him — believed in him. “I want— here.” The normal suaveness completely leaves your soulmate and he opens the ring box nervously. Hoping you like your ring.

“Get up here,” you insist, pulling him up to sit next to you on the bed so you can kiss him before anything else happens. The little leather box holds a sparkling diamond set in gold and that is wonderful, but what you want more than ever is to hold onto this feeling of sweet, deep, honest love that’s pounding in your chest.

Like all the kisses before, Max feels his heart move and he knows that is because you love him, not because of the soulmate connection. He cups your face tenderly as he pours himself into the kiss, not putting on a facade for you, just being greedy for your affection.

In this moment it’s all you can do to be mildly cognizant of the fact that your mother is in the room, and even if she doesn’t know she’s your mother it’s still another two people who probably just heard you squeal at Max’s arms wrapping right around you. Thankfully the soft moan he drew out of you just seconds later was soft. Only for his ears.

You’re his. The realization makes his heart thump even more with your lips against his and he groans into your mouth. The scent of you utterly intoxicating and he will be able to have it forever.

It’s so easy to get caught up in him. Caught up in the way that you can always tell when he’s being playful, or teasing, or his most honest self with you just from the way he kisses you. His armor has been tossed by the wayside and all that is left for you to see is his whole heart — which is a privilege you never intend to squander. It’s only the sound of a throat clearing that brings you out of the moment, as Emmanuel glances across the train car with reddened cheeks.

“Oh.” Max is almost disappointed by the interruption, but he grins over at the other man. “I apologize. It’s wonderful kissing your soulmate, isn’t it?” He asks knowingly.

“Wonderful.” Emmanuel agrees immediately, knowing that you and Max are aware that he and Annie have shared more than dances. “We ought to celebrate.”

“Yes we should!” Max immediately agrees, popping up and reaching over and shaking the man’s hand. “How about I make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had?” He knows the bar cart would have chocolate for the ladies and it will let everyone have something special without popping a bottle of champagne.

“Trust me. Say yes.” You assure them both when Annie looks to you curiously. You had mentioned this quirk of your husband’s before and it had intrigued her.

“Yes.” Annie agrees with authority, laughing all the while. She feels positively light as air and doesn’t want to waste a single moment of this joy.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Max winks and shoots past all of you fast enough to make yours and Annie’s skirts sway.

“Forgive me.” You smooth your hands over her skirt before getting up and coming back over to the card table. “I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“You are married.” Annie scoffs, waving away your apologies. “I hope that I do not have a dull marriage. I want my husband, my soulmate, to wish to kiss me every chance he gets.” The eyes she makes at Emmanuel are not subtle.

“And I am sure he will. After you are married.” It’s obviously not something you care about — Twenty-first century dating being far different from nineteenth century courting — but you have to pretend. To act like a lady of this time and place. “If your parents found out that you anticipated your vows when I was supposed to be here to stop you, they would never trust us all out together again.”

Annie snorts and rolls her eyes. “I very seriously doubt my parents will mind. You are here to be a show of propriety, as well as dear friends.”

"My only thought is to make sure you are taken care of." Her hand finds yours as you reach across the table, and for a moment you just smile at each other. Just a small moment of sharing in each other's happiness means so much, and you end up shrugging as if you are dramatically giving in. When in fact you have no intention of intruding on whatever historically happened between your mother and her soulmate the first time around. "I'm glad that you're happy. Both of you."

“Thank you.” Annie tugs you close and pulls you in for a tight hug. “You have been such a dear friend so quickly. It feels as though we have always known each other.”

"Like family," you hum, holding yourself to just a smile and making sure your perceptive mother can't see past the necessary lies that have been told.

“Exactly like family.” She beams, happy you seem as like minded as she. “Perhaps we will be one day.” She muses. “Our children could marry.”

"Anything is possible." Is the enigmatic answer you go with, knowing full well that that particular scenario is not in the cards. But that's no reason to ruin your mother's joy. "Sometimes family can be the people you choose, too. Not only marriage and blood."

“Yes….blood.” Annie sighs slightly and then looks towards the soulmate she had just discovered. “My parents will be thrilled, absolutely thrilled.”

"Don't let anything steal your joy right now," you squeeze her fingers again before sitting back, hearing the sounds of someone walking toward the car and hoping that it's Max. "Not anything at all."

“Who is ready for the richest hot chocolate they have ever tasted?” Max asks as the door opens and a large tray is filled with a set of cups.

"I'm intrigued," Emmanuel laughs, watching your very proud soulmate come back inside with his tray. "Where did you learn such a particular skill?"

How does he explain baristas? Max grins. “My nanny taught me.” He decides. “She would make the most marvelous hot chocolate and I always wanted it, so she insisted I learn.”

“How marvelous.” Annie perks up enthusiastically and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the thick, creamy drink. “Oh, it smells divine!” It is an indulgence to be sure, but that is only because of her own mother’s sensibilities. Chocolate is a treat, not to be overindulged in.

Smiling, Max looks like the pet student who is being recognized for their efforts. The fact that he is a praise seeker isn’t new, but this time, having the approval of your mother is rewarding. Even if she doesn’t know about the familial connection.

You already know it’s going to be amazing, but watching your mother and Emmanuel take their first sips and then light up like kids in a literal candy store is amazing. “Your nanny must have been a witch,” Annie declares, sighing openly at the divine taste. “Because this is obviously magic of the most wonderful sort.”

“She must have been.” Max winks at you and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “My wife married me for the recipe, but I have not given it to her yet.” He jokes. “She might run away.”

“Even if I had the recipe, I don’t think I could make it as well as you.” Your first sip comes with a hum on contentment. The chocolate in this time has less sugar, making it taste deeper and richer than when he would make it at home. “Part of the recipe must be love.”

“You know it is.” He hums indulgently and bats his eyes at you playfully. “Only the best for my love.”

The extremely unladylike snort from you causes laughter all around the table. This atmosphere of playfulness so far has been pervasive, like a wonderful warm hug. Right now you want nothing more than for that to last. To last for however long it is that you’ll be stuck in the past — because as much fun as you’re having? You do have to go home.

******

Even though there are two beds provided for you and Max, as any upper class Gilded Age couple would expect, there is only a curtain to give you privacy for the night. So when you crawl into the same bed together in your chemise and Max’s silk pajamas — apparently brand new and all the rage in America — you almost feel scandalous about it. Maybe that’s coming from the fact that you’re all but certain Annie and Emmanuel have crawled in together on the other side of the car, but you’re telling yourself that that’s none of your business. For now, all your focus belongs to Max…and the glittering ring on your finger as it catches the moonlight coming in the open window.

“Do you like it?” He whispers softly. He had worried because modern rings are larger, more simplistic, but he had hoped you would like the elaborate filigree and design on the ring.

“It’s gorgeous.” Tucking yourself closer in his arms, you tip your head back to kiss him. “I love it. How did you even manage to go find one?”

“Your grandfather took me to his jeweler.” He hums, proud of the fact that you like it.

“Conspiring with my Yayo, I’m very impressed.” It doesn’t actually surprise you at all, but you’re glad that they’re getting along in this time as well as in your own. Max’s own family predicament makes you so grateful that your grandparents have welcomed him with open arms. “It’s perfect, baby. I—thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” His body slots against yours perfectly and he pulls you closer. “I know that we aren’t actually….you know.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear. “But I wanted you to have a piece of this time when we go back.”

“Can you imagine?” A little giggle escapes you and you muffle it against his chest. “If I actually manage to get us home again and we just roll up into the house legally married for 138 years?”

He snorts, grinning into the darkness as he ignores the sounds coming from the next bed. It’s too quiet for you to hear, so he pretends he doesn’t either. “Not like we wouldn’t be married for 138 more after we get back.”

“And maybe more.” Who knows what will happen? You’re certainly not going to claim to be an expert on how the world works. Not after discovering that time travel is real.

“Maybe more.” Max nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles. “Are you having a good time with your mother, Dolly?”

“I am. I know it’s not the same but it’s so nice to just see her face and hear her voice again.” And if you could do the same for Max, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“I know, Dolly.” Max sighs sadly. “I wish I could have met your version of her.”

“She’s still her. Just less…Mom.” That doesn’t make any sense but you can’t articulate it any better so you shrug. “Though I guess I understand now why she always talked about going to the opera when she was little. That’s what people do in this time.”

“And you are going to get to experience that with her. In this time.” He reminds you, having already been informed that tickets will be waiting.

“If you get bored then just slip out of the box and go smoke cigars with Vanderbilt or something.” For all you know Max hates the opera. It hadn’t exactly been a point of debate when the Vanderbilts had announced their intention to takes you along to the brand new Metropolitan Opera House with them. “I won’t be offended, I swear.”

“No, I doubt I would be bored.” Max shakes his head. “It will be a fine study if the aristocracy in New York.”

“This is like the weirdest vacation in the world.” You snort at yourself slightly. At the odd memory that just popped into your head. “It’s Where in Time is Carmen Sandiago? the real game.”

“Now starring…Dolly.” He intones dramatically, like he’s an announcer. He grins in the darkness when you giggle.

“That will be your career if I can’t get us back,” you tease, light and laughing softly in the night instead of scared or worried. Somehow he makes you so sure that things will work out that you are able to breathe freely in moments like these. “A vaudeville announcer. And then we’ll get you into radio afterward.”

Max snorts softly. “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a note? Live a life back in time and reappear in our own timeline like nothing ever happened?”

“It’s all going to depend on how long it takes me to learn how to get us home,” you remind him gently. The fact is, this could be a very real problem to have, but at the moment it doesn’t seem like the worst sort of very real problem.

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes, my love.” He whispers, rubbing your back soothingly. “We have eternity and as long as I have you, I can live wherever, or whenever, we are.”

______

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Royal Pain Part 19

Hey, guys. Sorry it took so long to get this out. The chapter was fighting me and I have had the absolutely worst week. However in slightly happier news, my partner got a new job and that means I should be able to quit mine and go back to writing full time. I'll let you know more when I do, but it's looking more and more likely.

I realized it had been a while since we had an Eddie centric chapter and decided this would be the one. And I left it on a cliffhanger again. But don't worry next chapter will see more than one villain vanquished.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

***

Eddie was seething. He hadn’t been this mad since he learned Max was moving to New York. Actually. No. He was madder then that. He was pissed.

Gareth grimaced. “They won’t do anything?”

“No,” Eddie growled. “Because he technically hasn’t violated the protection order, according to them.”

“If he can’t get with in five hundred feet,” Brian said, “then how did he find out about Steve.”

Eddie threw up his arms into the air. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’m betting,” Mandy said, “that they didn’t have a good answer?”

“Apparently since Seth showed up at Hopper’s,” Eddie snarled, “and not Steve’s shop, that he was just going around to all the tattoo parlors and threatening everyone.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I bet they didn’t even check with other tattoo shops and just made that shit up.”

“I even talked to Officer Callahan who was in charge of the original case file because he’s not supposed to be out of jail yet,” Eddie said, beginning to pace. “He never went.”

“What?!” came the shocked cry of outrage from everyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued. “Apparently he made a deal with the DA and they didn’t tell me. He got two years probation.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mandy hissed. “He was going to kill you.”

“Criminal mischief,” Eddie said. “Domestic abuse down to criminal mischief. $300 fine, two year probation, and forced to take a class about how not to be a violent offender.”

“It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Gareth asked, licking his lips slowly. “These fuckers don’t think a man can be abused.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a line and nodded.

“Hop’s calling in a couple of favors to keep Steve safe,” he said. “But that does jack shit about me. And this isn’t me calling out that shit. That’s Hop’s prerogative but he’s my dumb ass ex, who’s protecting me?”

“We are,” Jeff said. “You don’t go anywhere without one of us. Garth, since you’re the only one without a roommate at the moment, Eddie’s going to stay with you. Brian, talk to Cecil, he’s studying law. See what he can recommend.”

Gareth and Brian both nodded.

Eddie buried his head into his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

Mandy came up and gave him a hug. “We’ll get through this. We did before and we will again. And this time we have more people that would be willing to help. Steve, Robin, Chrissy, hell the whole of the Royal Pain would throw hands for you.”

Eddie chuckled. He knew that too. “Well, maybe not Erica.”

Brian snorted. “That girl would sell her own mother for a cookie.”

“Not even a Girl Scout cookie,” Jeff agreed. “That girl is bound for world domination.”

“No doubt.”

*

“You tell me right now,” Wayne said when Eddie had called that night, “do you need me up there? Because work be damned, boy, I’ll be up there in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Eddie chewed on his nail. He felt like that little boy all over again. Being given the choice between being with his uncle or being put in a foster home. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, but he knew. He knew that Wayne was someone that wouldn’t care. That he could be as big a bother as he wanted, he would still be loved.

He let out a shuddering breath and like that little boy all those years ago said, “Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Wayne said as if he didn’t have weeks and weeks of it stored up because he was never sick a day in his life. “I cane be up there for as long as you need me, you hear?”

“I’m staying with Gareth for the time being,” Eddie said solemnly, “because Jeff is worried that Seth will follow me home.”

“Smart man, your Jeff,” Wayne agreed. “I have a friend in Indy I can crash on the sofa of for a couple of days until I can find something a little more permanent.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Let me know when you get into town and we’ll meet up for lunch.”

“You can finally take me to that pizza place you’ve been going on about for months.”

Eddie laughed, a knot loosening in his chest. “You’ve got it, old man.”

*

A few days later Steve was waiting for the pizza he had ordered for the shop, playing silly games on his phone when the bell announced new arrivals. He looked up instinctively and grinned.

He waved. “Eddie!”

Eddie lit up with a big smile. “Stevie?” He hopped over, an older man following a little slower behind.

“Hey!” Steve greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “DiMaggio’s is the best pizza place in Indy, not coming here is a crime.”

“If it’s not it certainly should be,” Steve agreed with his own answering grin.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “this is my uncle, Wayne. He’s staying in town for a few days.”

Steve’s mood was dampened a bit, knowing why he was in town. “Nice to meet you. I was planning a trip back down Hawkins at the end of the summer so that Eddie could introduce us, sorry we had meet under lesser than ideal circumstances.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment before turning to Eddie. “This one is a keeper.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just smiled fondly at him. “I think that’s up to him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “I like him.”

That surprised a laugh out of Eddie causing him to drop the hair. “Me too.”

“Let me just go order our pizzas,” Eddie murmured and darted for the front counter.

“He’s cute,” Steve said, waving his hand to the chair in front of him for Wayne to sit.

Wayne took the seat and smiled. “He certainly is. I’m glad the world didn’t beat the silliness out of him.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “I love how earnest and outgoing he is.”

Wayne hummed. “He tell what was going on?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Seth came after me at a friend’s shop, tried to threaten me into leaving Eddie alone.”

“I don’t think being threatened is the fault of the victim,” he said, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

Steve blushed. “That’s what Jeff and Robin said.”

“Jeff I know,” Wayne said, “Robin I don’t, but it sounds to me like they both have their heads on straight and you should be listening to them and not that voice in the back of your head.” He tapped Steve forehead for emphasis.

The bell above the door rang again and Mike and Will walked in. Steve raised a eyebrow when he spotted them.

“DiMaggio’s is certainly hopping for a random Thursday,” he commented dryly to Will when he lead a slightly reluctant Mike over to their table. Eddie arrived at the table just moments later and there are hugs and greetings all around.

“You caused quite a stir at the latest family dinner,” Will said with a huge grin to Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, how did that happen?”

“Jonathan is back on Mom’s couch,” he said with a smirk.

Steve reared his head back. “And how did that involve me?”

“Argyle kicked him out of the apartment because him and Nancy lied to him about who’s fault your and her relationship ended.”

“Nancy is furious at them both,” Mike said with a half shrug. “I’m not sure their relationship is going to survive that little revelation.”

Steve winced. “Yeah...that’s on them though. How was I to know that Jonathan hadn’t been honest to Argyle about that.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder. “You weren’t.”

“Oh we are totally on your side,” Will said.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, man. It was straight up bullshit all the lying they did.”

“Mom’s pissed because she really liked you,” Will continued, “and believed Jonathan about how things went down. Like of course she did. He’s her son, but she should have tried to get your side of it.”

“Those eight years are totally on her,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been trying to tell her for years to at least talk to me about it.”

Will and Mike nodded.

Mike chewed on his lip as he played with the loose string on the hem of his t-shirt. “Is it bad I hope Nancy and Jonathan break up?”

The table got silence for a moment.

Wayne lifted his chin. “Why’s that, son?”

“Because I don’t think she wants a relationship. I think she was only with Jonathan and Steve,” he said waving at him with his left hand, “is because that’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.”

“Steve!” the counter called.

Steve got up to get his pizza order, he stopped back at the table. “I don’t think it’s a bad you want your sister to learn how to be herself without a partner. I think it shows that you’re more mature then she is. You’re a good man, Mike.”

He clapped Mike’s shoulder and then waved goodbye to everyone. He pulled out his keys and walked out to his car, flipping the key ring around as he thought.

He never intended this to happen when he saw his ex at the grocery store, but honestly? Maybe it was a good thing to get all those wounds brought to light so that they could heal properly.

For all their sakes.

*

Steve was ready for the weekend. His week had been a literal hell. But Eddie had promised that he would have fun. The band had been practicing a couple of new songs and were debuting them Saturday night.

He sat at the curve of the table, sandwiched between Robin, who wouldn’t care, only to tease him mercilessly later, and Mandy who got it, how fucking sexy Eddie and the band was when they were on stage.

Steve wished he could say he was better prepared every time Eddie got on stage, but every week Eddie went out of his way to drive Steve absolutely wild.

“He does this on purpose doesn’t he?” Steve asked after a particularly hot number where Eddie fell to his knees grinding on his guitar.

Mandy laughed. “I would like to put you out of your misery and say yes, but no. When Eddie gets on stage he loses all connection to the audience and just rocks out. His fans love it.”

Steve looked around the dingy bar and had to agree. They were just as turned on as he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, clearing his throat. “If we...” he cleared his throat again. “I mean if Eddie were to–if we were–”

Mandy took pity on him. “If you two were going out would the fans tear you to pieces for touching what they can’t?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, looking at his hands that were twisted in lap.

She gave his knee a squeeze. “I honestly don’t know what the fans would do. But Eddie wouldn’t give a damn what they think. He’s been booed before for a song that they didn’t think was metal enough and he didn’t let that stop him. Not once.”

Steve let out a breath. It was always something that worried him. He knew he went against the grain in everything he did, but he didn’t want that with Eddie. He didn’t want to be with Eddie just because it went against the norm of what was expected of either of them.

They arrived at the club and already Robin was on the dance floor. She loved dancing and soon Mandy, Chrissy, Jeff, and Brian were out there with her. Gareth, Eddie, and Steve watched in amusement as their friends let loose on the dance floor, living it up under the rainbow lights and the thumping beat of the music.

Steve turned around and Eddie wasn’t there.

“You seen Eddie?” he shouted at Gareth.

Gareth shot up and looked around. “Shit.”

Somehow during their watching of their friends cutting it up, Eddie had slipped away.

“You check out back to see if he’s gone for a smoke,” Steve said.

Gareth nodded.

“I’m going to check the bar.”

Gareth nodded again.

Across the crowded room, a man in a tailored white suit grinned as he moved to the back of the club where the restrooms were, eyes glittering with want and rage as he scented his prey.

***

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

9 - Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn discussions of warfare, description of corpses blood and gore, child death, character death, pregnancy, smut, p in v, nondetailed references to forced sex acts, struggles of internalized trauma

Notes: Difficult chapter for everyone but Robbs war campaign just is in a wild state right now in general. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The wheels were all in motion, and it may be the only thing giving the man confidence. It was a plan they could get on board with, that maybe they didn’t have to take Kings Landing themselves to end the Lannister reign on the realm. Stannis does the hard work, and the Starks play distraction to give them the time and numbers to do so. Greatjon himself saying, “Aye, we’re better at guttin’ Lannisters then we’d be sailing and breaking down walls. We’re the only ones actually fighting this war.” 

It certainly felt that way. You wondered if the rebellion against Aerys Targaryean felt as futile in the middle of it. Looking back, everyone can clearly see the sides that were winning and that the side fighting for liberation were indeed the winning one. Yet you could understand that it likely didn’t feel that way. The Lannisters had not one a single battle against Robb Stark, and there hadn’t been any battle waged against any other. The Iron Islanders could hardly be called an army. More akin to raiders then anything, and the only time they fought as one they were crushed easily in a matter of months. 

Yet each day that the war continued on felt as if the North was going nowhere. Brynden had put that into better perspective earlier that morning in a small moment of doubt between the three of you. “Have you considered the fact that we haven’t had any major victories in recently is because the Lannisters aren’t brave enough to come and fight us in the field anymore?” 

You had added with, “Tywin Lannister has been holed up in Harrenhal as his men do his fighting for him for how long now? How many days have you been out there, in the front by the sides of your men as an equal and Tywin hasn’t?” 

“He and his high lords can sit around their table arguing about strategy and feel like they are accomplishing something, but we’re the only ones doing any of the real work. And we wouldn’t be anywhere but dead a long time ago without you.” Even now, this long into war, Robb still voiced his doubts, never got to sure of himself that it couldn’t go wrong. 

Sometimes, on the quietest of nights, you both would speak of what happens when this war is over, what then? So much of your life now, your lives together, had been about war but the truth was it wasn’t fair to ask to much of ‘what then’. The what then of war, was making sure you win because the alternative was death. 

Neither you or Robb had asked for this, but the responsibility fell onto your shoulders and if neither of you did it, who would? You had to trudge through the mud, feeling like each day without a win was a loss, because otherwise you have no other choice but to lose absolutely everything. 

When you begun to arrive back at the camp, something was wrong. Something was quite wrong, the men were in a state and anger was ripe. A group of men approached at haste both looked to the other with a weary gaze. “Your grace,” 

Robb asking what happened as you both climbed down and in an instant you realized that it was going to be something with quite the chain reaction. “The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.”

The seething silent rage in his eyes was blazing, “How?” They glanced at one another and he raised his voice to repeat himself. They told of the events, of Jaime Lannister bashing the head in of Ser Alton to grab Torrhen Karstark’s attention, and how he strangled Torrhen himself and ran off into the night. That wasn’t what they were speaking of though. Speaking of how he was found, dragged back and yet he still escaped once more. But escaped wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t escape the second time on his own. No, it was far worse then that. 

Robb looked to you and found the same feeling within you as well, this only could have happened because you both were gone. Those on the war council had agreed it was the smartest plan to have both of you to confront Stannis Baratheon, and yet one person had used that absence. Robb’s shoulders were tense as his hands flexed in a restraining temper. 

It had been an intimidating sight to see apparently, the sheer anger in the King and Queen’s eyes as they moved together in furious haste though the camp amongst the growing contempt the events had caused. One that made quite a number of people back away for fear of crossing your paths. Multiple men were guarding outside the tent and opened it for the both of you where more men stood guard inside, as well as a more composed Roose Bolton, and a Rickard Karstark that you knew had full reasons to be as angry as the pair of you were. 

Catelyn sat with a look in her eye, mixing a shame with worry as she looked to her son. Robb’s voice was quiet and even but none were fooled at what lay beneath. “Why?” 

It was likely there was a bit of work on her end to keep any tears back at what she knew was coming, “For the girls.” 

“You betrayed me.” She tried pleading to him, only getting as far as is name until he raise his voice to her. “No. You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyways.” 

Looking up you glanced to Karstark, a quiet understanding of the pained gaze in your eye behind an almost shaking fury to keep yourself tempered. You and Robb had seen Harrion Karstark die on the battlefield and now he’s lost another son and watched Catelyn send his murderer away. Trying to explain herself you found it hard to rationalize it when you knew too well what this meant. 

“Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya are captives in King’s Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free.” And somehow that gave her the right, you thought exasperated. 

Karstark for what you knew a night ago would have been unbridled rage, spoke with a quiet agony as Catelyn felt the guilt compound onto her. “I lost one son fighting by your son’s side, I lost another to the Kingslayer. Strangled by a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father it he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.” 

Catelyn tried to keep her composure, rationalize it, “I grieve for your sons, my Lord-” 

You were the one who cut her off. “These men don’t need your grief, they needed justice. And they can’t do that now can they?” What was the point of how hard Robb worked to keep his men running in order, if everyone did what they considered to be fair. It couldn’t be fair, war wasn’t. 

“Returning Jaime Lannister might be the only way to buy life for my daughters.” Your eyes narrowed, that didn’t sound like her voice coming out of her and it dawned on you exactly who did. A chill running through you, just what had he been offered this time? How on earth could she even consider his words as any truth? 

Your voice in a breathless disbelief that she would ever trust him. You had looked him in the eye with the only trust you and Ned Stark had left, and that trust led you both to knives at your throats and a sword through her own husbands neck. “Petyr Baelish has played you for a fool.” 

Robb stared his mother down, his own voice quiet and he played the lecturer and her the one in need of scold. “You realize what it is you’ve done? You’ve weakened our position, you’ve brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back.”

Looking to the men, he gave a final order, ignoring her plea of his name to listen. He had enough of that for one day. “Make sure she’s guarded day and night.” Turning with you he looked to Roose Bolton, “How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?” 

“Fourty, your grace.” 

“Send another fourty. With our fastest horses.” Without another word to his mother, Robb led you outside, making your way through the camp. “He betrayed you, he betrayed my father and now she let him do it again.” 

Your voice hissing in an urgency. “If they don’t find Jaime by nightfall, we have to be gone. The Lannisters would have planned this, we can’t risk any chance of them getting word of where we are.” 

Robb nodded, “Start getting them ready, we leave as soon as it gets dark. Push onto them and we’ll get behind by the time Edmure draws them out.” 

You paused before walking away, looking at him like he was being weighed down by every force and from each side someone or something threw his work right back in his face. An intensity like he couldn’t stop finding new sides to be betrayed from. “Robb,” 

His brows narrowed as he looked to you, only the short few steps you took did his eyes wash over him a softer need. Cupping both sides of his face as he drew you in by the waist. His kiss was harsh, but you could feel it in the way he touched you how swirling his head was. Keeping your lips to his for a beat longer then intended, he pulled away pressing a final one to your forehead. Soft only for his ears did you run your hand over his cheek, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over your waist as Robb resisted the urge to pull you right back into him. “And I love you.” Giving you a playful nudge backwards, “Now off with you.” 

He watched you walk away, his family tearing itself apart as it all kept resting on his shoulders but the only thing that was keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground anymore was you. Robb couldn’t even be sure if he’d see his siblings again, but then he could look at you and his heart felt full at how much he needed you to breathe. 

You believed in him, supported his decisions and had never even argued. Early on he would wonder if you were keeping it to yourself for his sake, but the more he got into your mind the more he just found someone who matched him. Saw the war and his people as he did, and refused to let anyone think you were not right beside him. 

Ending the war wasn’t going to be easy, but the more time he spent with you, these past few months especially, the more Robb yearned to bring you home to Winterfell. Watch you spent the first snows of winter swollen with his child and know you can raise them safe and free there. Your nights deserved to be spent in his real bed, being treated like a real Queen not the one you had to be with a sword in your hand. 

Robb wished they didn’t, but the red woman’s words had haunted him. So freely speaking of you with his children, the dream you told him that made him take you as many times as you could stand it. His own mother had betrayed him, but at least Robb had you, and a dream of a future where he could be a proper father to those children you dreamed of. 

The atmosphere of the camp was miserable to be in, everyone held their own opinion about what happened and none of them wanted to voice it as you passed by in risk of angering their leaders more then they already had been. 

What were you to focus on, what were you to prioritize at this point? One of your dearest friends betrayed you, your husbands mother betrayed you, and your own father readied to set sail to King’s Landing in a matter only of days now. You could see his plan perfectly, as well as the one Robb has put into play. Only so much of them you could even control, but as you slammed down a bag over your shoulder with a huff and a nod to the squire passed onto you came to one thought. 

If you left in a few hours, there might not be a chance to do so for who knows how long. You had to take the chance now and yet you had no idea what made the thought consume you. Your eyes scouring the camp and found no trace of anyone who would take much notice. 

Your feet walked for you, before you mind had a chance and by the time you caught up to the idea you were already pulling back the entrance to the tent in question. “Your grace. Do you require my attention for something?” 

As you stared at the man, you swallowed heavily. Eyes ready to sting like it was a mistake to do this, but you nodded. Grey Wind sitting outside the tent dutifully as you made your way inside. 

The sky had fallen into a golden colour as you stepped outside finally. The beauty of the light made your eyes sting, and biting your tongue to keep your face steady. However your lungs found it hard to breathe, and your heart pounded harder trying to compensate. A dread you didn’t fully understand overtaking you as you felt the people around you slow down. 

Your breathing the only thing you could hear and little in front of you that could be seen, not knowing if the world spun or if it was you. You supposed it was bound to be your turn, everyone seemed to find something to throw onto Robb lately and yet you didn’t think you had anything to add to it until now. 

Unsure if you had been standing there a while until you were nudged over by Grey Wind. A whining sound leaving him as he nudged your torso before looking up at you. Tall enough even on two feet that you barley had to raise your arms to run your fingers through his fur. He seemed insistent about something as he nudged you again before you shook out head out of its spin. Narrowing your eyes at the direwolf, “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Whined again as you ran a hand over his ears. “Come, considering I’ve heard to screams to for a Lannister head I assume we’re heading out soon.” 

Coming up on the bare bones of the war council’s tent, Robb was sat with Roose Bolton. His blue eyes looking up at you narrowed. You clearly didn’t realize your eyes still tinged with red and a crestfallen expression before you stepped inside. You could guess what this was about. “Still no word?” 

Robb watched you still, but you only stepped closer to him on both feet and keeping your attention on the other man. “We’ve sent a dozen ravens. None have returned.” 

Arms crossing over your chest you tilted your head with a heavy breath. “There’s no way he thinks we don’t already know, which means he’s trying to hide something.” 

Robb finally peeled his eyes from you back to the issue at hand, as Roose nodded in agreement. “There’s an easy way to find that out. My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell, once he captures the castle-” 

“Theon has my brothers. If we storm the castle-” 

You’re glad Roose seemed to have some confidence, beacuse there was little to be found in either of you. “He wouldn’t dare hurt the boys. They’re his only hope of escaping the North with his head.” 

Robb looked up to you, a far away look in your own eye trying to figure out what ever did he think he was going to accomplish with this? What could Balon Greyjoy possibly have said to him that was more important then the over half his life spent with Eddard Stark? Robb’s voice was low as he spoke. “Send word to your son. Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you caught on easily to the path behind this thoughts. Bolton looked unconvinced, “A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace. Too much...” 

“Every ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed me and we will hunt him down no matter where he runs.” You didn’t know if your hand was shaking as it rose to run over Robb’s shoulder blade, but it took a lot of focus to pretend like it wasn’t regardless. 

Roose nodded as you added, “Ironborn won’t stay locked to the land for long before they need any excuse to leave. They took Winterfell because it was open and Theon wanted it, not because they have any use in staying there. They get an easy offer of life, and they’ll turn on him the minute they hear it.” 

“I’ll send word right away.” 

Once alone with him, you knew you should tell him, you knew it was important to say it but for once you found yourself unable to deliver the final blow. As he raised his hand to grasp yours, he pulled you down onto his lap. Your hands finding his neck to rest around and him your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. “I want you to keep an eye on the Karstarks.” Meeting his eyes as you pulled back he squeezed your waist tightly, keeping himself rooted in clarity through you. “They’re grieving and angry, and if they take this too personally I can’t have that kind of dissension in my ranks. You have the best eye for that, and I need someone I can trust who won’t mince words.” 

Nodding, you could see the struggle in his eyes like the only one he thought he could keep every faith in was you. He had so much on his shoulders from what felt like every corner of the realm and the second something goes wrong out of his control, it all falls to his blame. Stannis didn’t need to take Kings Landing just to turn the tides on this war, he needed to take the Iron Throne if just to give Robb a second to breathe for once. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but yet only a sigh came out as you ran your fingers through his hair for a moment. “Most of the first troops are ready to head out, if I leave with them now I can have the scouts up by tomorrow night and we should be hitting them just as Edmure has the Mountains garrison crossed over.” 

Robb shook his head, standing you both up, “I’m not sending you alone. Have Olyvar ready my horse, I’ll meet you there before the hour’s up.” 

Riding through the night was easy, it was quiet and the only sounds hitting you being the chattering of night above and the trotting of hooves below. Not often anymore did it give you the chance to retreat so much into your mind, but you and Robb both needed that quiet together. 

You couldn’t imagine him as such, Theon. Dressed in garb like the Ironborn and spouting their words like he’d always lived by them. You’d grown alongside him watching the surly teenager grow into a man and you couldn’t figure out where that man had went, or if he was never there in the first place. Had he hated the Starks the whole time? 

It was the conversation you both had right as you had set out for war, not even crossing past the borders of the North when he brought it up. That Catelyn shouldn’t be treating you like you were not her family, only to bring up your real one. What reasons though, did you have to suspect that he meant it in the manner for himself? 

You both had a unique perspective to the other, spent much time in the North without being one in your blood, and both of you had strained, or in Theon’s case non existent, relationships with difficult fathers who never treated you like one. Both had followed Ned Stark and understood the world from his perspective and worked by his side often on the same things. 

He knew that you had chosen to go to Robb instead of your father and he tried to broach why you’d do it, maybe shutting down that conversation was a mistake. You knew what being Stannis’s daughter meant, and had you gone to him in the first place you knew what they would make you. Maybe to Theon, it seemed ludicrous to refuse the offer of being a Princess. 

If he was Balons last living son, that would in their independence, make him a Prince. Was he really asking you why you would choose against a similar choice because he was already thinking that far beyond? Why swear himself so openly to another King, to someone like a brother to him if he was already considering this new path? The only answers you could come up with, were simply more questions. 

What would he understand of such conflict? He wasn’t stuck between two choices from the start, there was nothing from Balon until Theon went to him. He brought the conflict on himself where you had no say in the position. The moment you were thrown in that cell, there was a choice you had to make and between life and death, and when life was chosen you had decide what the family that needed you the most was. 

Theon made the wrong choice, and he chose the people that hadn’t known anything about him for so long he returned essentially a stranger. If he were smart, he would surrender with the safety of the boys and accept the justice of his sins. If he were smart. 

“You’re going to scare it off.” 

The sounds of the flowing water streaming down the river was as loud in your head as it was the memory which followed. It was your last visit to Winterfell before Jon Arryn’s death, over two years ago now but it felt far longer. A life that seemed now to never exist. 

You and Theon were crouched down, leaning slightly over a thick tree log that had sat untouched by the riverside. Both with bows in your hand, you had been out there for a number of hours and there was no sign of stopping until he relented. 

Close enough that he could whisper in your ear Theon leaned over, “You’re going to scare if off.” Not quite raising your bow, you moved it into position as you eyed the deer. “It’s way too far, you’re not going to nail it and then it’ll take what? Another two hours for you to get a better shot?” 

Glaring to the side at his confident face you resisted the urge to shove him over. “I’m not going to miss.” 

Raising his eyebrows in a playful jest, he shrugged. Watching you move your arms into position before reaching over to nudge your wrist up slightly. You whipped around to face him, dropping it entirely as you glared at him with a whisper, “I don’t need your help.” 

“You’re too high, you’ll barley graze it’s head.” 

It had been a number of hours now, the pair of you finding things to shoot at in increasing challenge before he came up with nailing a deer in the eye from such a distance away. Getting on the other’s nerves each time one of you did better then the other, until now as the sun set you both knew he was picking at your stubbornness on purpose. “Going to graze an arrow past your head if you don’t shut up, Greyjoy.” 

He turned slightly, his back more resting against the log as you knelt perched forward still. “Knowing you’re aim, you’d have been aiming for my face and missed.” Ignoring him with narrowed eyes forward, you kept your hold on the bow light as you watched the deer kneel its head down to eat. “You can always just admit defeat, there’s no shame in it. Besides the mocking I’ll do ‘till your end of days.” 

“And if I hit it?” You turned your head to glance at him with an amused smirk. “What do I get?” 

Theon took full advantage of how quiet you were trying to be, knowing any other time you’d shove him right into the lake next to you. “Could think of a few things, pretty girl like you.” Riling you up more he pressed on with a grin you knew was smug as you were too concentrated to argue back, “Find a way to lighten up that attitude of yours real easy. I’ve never seen you with a guy, you’re probably wound up way too tight it’d be easy to get you to relax-”

In an instant, you raised up, drawing your arm back before releasing a shot. Landing it right on target with ease. Theon’s head whipping over to look with a disbelieving, “Shit,” You stood up before him, holding a hand out to yank him up as well as he looked a mix of impressed and shamed for being bested. “I was gonna get you to do all my inventory count.” 

Finally, you let out a loud breath of a laugh as you peeled off your gloves finally with your teeth before shoving them in a pocket. “I thought of what my prize is too.” Nodding to the deer with a smirk, “You get to drag that thing back, yourself.” 

“Since when did your aim get so damn good, Baratheon?” 

You looked back as you walked away, “Maybe you’re just getting worse at it, ever consider that?” 

By the time Theon had gotten back, it was obvious he and the river had a bit of an incident trying to get the deer across it, and failed. You and Jon had been perched just outside the walls watching Bran run around with Rickon. The loud slap as he tossed the furs around his shoulder at you was nothing but disappointing to him as it came nowhere near hitting you as he meant. 

His face falling flat as the pair of you had a good laugh over it, until that was when Jon turned on you, grabbed you by the arms, holding you back against him as Theon proceeded to dump the contents of his skin of water all over from the top of your head. Lord Stark had come out at that point, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you three for being more childish then the actual children you and Jon had been out there to watch. 

Sitting around one of the small fires as you stopped for that night some days later, by morning you’d push onto Harrenhal, and you were far away enough that the men could catch their breathe first. Such days felt so long passed that you could see a different person entirely in them. You laughed, and joked, and still knew how to have fun and now everyday was a crushing pressure that could sent you deep into the earth should you let it. 

Coming into your vision were a pair of feet before a body sat down next to you with a groan. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Glancing up to see Brynden Tully, you just shrugged looking back into the flames. “Neither of you are very good at that lately, it seems.” Following his eyeline to Robb who was just as tired yet distracted as you were.

“Hard to sleep when your busy chasing ghosts nowadays.” His twisted face seemed to lighten as he relented. The pair of you in quiet for a moment before you felt a twist in your stomach that spilled into your veins, leaving you more on edge as it flowed through you. “The longer the Lannisters hide from us, the more antsy the men are going to get.” 

“We’re at war, your grace.” He gestured to the lot of them all around with a casual degree, “They’re going to be antsy until their back at home in their beds or dead in their graves.” 

Your forearms rested on your knees as you leaned forward, just how long would either of those be at this point. How much longer could the men hold out on a war that your opponent refuses to fight. “Everything we’ve done, and I know they all look to us, to Robb, like it’s our fault we’re here. They feel like we’re losing, and I don’t know how to change that.” 

Brynden leaned in to match your posture, “You can’t.” Glancing up with a raised eyebrow to him. “Most of these men, they aren’t leaders. Their soldiers. They don’t care if we’re winning the war, they want to feel it.” Pointing to Robb your felt that twist in your stomach sting more. “They’ll all blame the King because the Lannisters aren’t here to take their anger out on, but the smart ones know they’re nothing without him.” 

Robb had a good mind for warfare, a great one in fact. But the fact of the matter is that war isn’t just bloodshed and battles, it’s a game of strategy and the side that has no patience is the side that starts to loose. He hadn’t lost his patience, but then you saw those like the Karstarks who didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking their grief out on the enemy. 

“And the ones who don’t figure that out?” 

With a darker, partially far away look as you both met eyes, there was a mutual feeling that came to a similar conclusion. You knew it, he knew it, and Robb knew it but what were you trying to do if he sacrificed justice for morale? What were you fighting for if he didn’t lead his men with the values that shape a good man? And which of the discontent ones would be the first to break. 

A hand slapped around your shoulder as another large figure sat beside you pulling you more into her side. Bless Maege for not having any issue with treating you with such a casualness when you were deep inside your own head. “I mean no disrespect, your grace, but you look like shit.” 

Face twisting into a bemused grimace as you nodded, “Don’t know how I could possible take that as insult.” Two skins were in her hands, as she nodded to the other man with a look almost saying to leave if you weren’t mistaken. Brynden took no offence, as he unbeknownst to you, recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen many times before ‘leave the women to talk’. 

Handing you one, Maege nudged “Have a drink,” 

If anything was on your side it was the ease in which you just shook your head without a suspicious sort of pause. “Don’t really think that’s going to help at this point.” 

Shoving it in your hands regardless, Maege bit open the cap of her own. “It’s not supposed to help, it’s supposed to trick you into thinking it’ll make you feel better when all you do is feel worse. Besides, yours is full of water, don’t worry.” 

Opening it slowly, you peered inside and when finding no scent you took a good sip, the water feeling soothing as it ran gently down your throat. The unsaid words along them having burned you up on the inside for almost two days now. “Been a real shit few days, hasn’t it?” 

Maege laughed, giving you a pat on the back as she did so. “Hasn’t been the best, but none of these fuckers have a clue what leading an army is like. They wanna kill something, good for them, that’s not gonna change even if we do get a fight. They’ll be hot for a night or two and then get that same itch, as long as we’re out here.” 

Shrugging one shoulder you glanced to her, “What about you?”

Her expression was light, looking around the camp. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. We chose him to lead us, we chose you to lead us and my opinion ends there. King in the North says we jump into a fight, we fight. He says we stand back and draw them out quiet, then we do that.”

Pointing to the Karstarks she leaned into your side a tad quieter, “Either they smarten up, or they don’t but none of this shit is up to them. What the King does isn’t up for debate.” 

You bit your tongue, taking another sip after to soothe the sharpness in your own mouth now. “No, it’s not. At least with what they’re arguing about. I’m pissed, furious at what she did but it’s not her fault that Torrhen was killed by the Kingslayer and I don’t think he has any clue how this is all making him look.” 

Maege shrugged, “Aye. I can sympathize with what she did, really, and I know you can too. We’re mothers afterall, but that also means you and I know it’s not such an open and shut crime.” 

It took you a moment, nodding absently before you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your hands tensed as they sat in front of you as your eyes flickered just enough to the side to see her leaning towards you. “I’ve had five of my own, your grace. I know what that expression you’ve been walking around with is saying. Or not saying.” Nodding subtlety to Robb she asked, “He doesn’t know?” 

Your head hung down, a wave of strong crushing guilt slamming you in your heart all at once as it biled up towards your throat. You shook your head no, and Maege in a quiet tone, one softer and fair more consoling asked why. 

You shrugged as a fake laugh made it’s way to your face. “Look around you, look what he’s been dealing with? Everyone’s fucked him over one way or another, he’s carrying this war all on his own and now his own mother’s betrayed him. You think he needs me adding that onto his shoulders?” 

Her voice was still quiet but strict, her words slow and separate like enunciating a lecture to that of a child. “You are not a burden to that man. You wanna know what we all see?” 

When you didn’t answer, she took it as a yes anyways. “He’s so in love with you it’s almost disgusting if it weren’t also so fucking endearing.” The taken back look on your face must have been something because she laughed heartily at however you just reacted. “He doesn’t just call you his Queen, he treats you like one. Looking for any excuse to have a hand on you in any way, kiss you just out in the open like he doesn’t care. Probably because he doesn’t.” 

You didn’t have the bravery to look up at him, not just yet but she wasn’t done, “And it’s not just him. You might be the most tense, on edge person in this whole army but the second you look at him, you’re like a puppy.” 

Flickering up to quickly glance, you felt your heart sink at the sight of him standing tall and powerful like he was. “Ah, see? That look there, the one on your face right now.” 

Flattening it out quickly, you at up and took another drink, wiping the droplets off with the back of your hand. “We’re at war, we’re out in the middle of the West fighting the Lannisters and he needs a firm hand at his side not another thing to worry about.” 

Maege looked at you for a good long while. Leaning forward, she took a sip of her own before inhaling deeply. “Do you know why the Mormonts have been so loyal the Starks as long as we have?” 

Raising your eyebrow you dryly responded, “Because the alternative is breaking your oath?” 

Smiling to herself, you looked up as she was almost lost in her own memory. “The King’s protective of you a lot, he lets it sit right on his face and in his actions how protective he is. All them Starks are really, real pack animals that defend their own. We’re not to different to that. We’d do anything to keep our own safe and damned what comes in the way of that we find a way to deal with it.” 

Her eyes glancing to where you both knew Lady Catelyn was, “Even if protecting his own means going against others to do it. He’s not just pissed at what she did, he’s lost too much already and risking our position? Causing this shit in the camp? That just puts you in danger, and you’re the one thing the King has left and he’s desperate to protect it. You’re not a burden, your grace, you’re keeping a man together who think’s hes got nothing left.” 

“Sounds like you know what it’s like.” 

She shrugged, leaning back as the stress in your shoulders lightened a bit. “Sort of, I know what it’s like to have your family betrayed by one of your own.” Your eyes squinted as you thought to those early days in King’s Landing, “You know about my nephew? Jorah?” 

“I know he ran off to Essos, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Her face twisting for a moment as she clearly recalled it. “It was all before you were born, but basically Jorah found himself a wife none of us liked, then when she got too expensive for him he racked himself up in serious debt. So how does he pay it back?” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Of all the crimes he could have committed he starts to trade slaves. Nothing gets him the money to pay off like the lives of innocent human beings, right?” 

Gesturing lightly to Robb she continued, “It was Ned Stark who ordered it.  Called him a traitor for committing one of the more reprehensible crimes the North ever outlawed, and sentenced him to death. No trial, no question, just called for his execution. You know what we did?” 

She looked to her King once more, “We accepted it. Sure it hurt to hear, but not for a second did any of us stand there and argue with him over it. He disgraced himself and what else was there to do but trust in Ned Stark’s judgment? Didn’t make it easier, but we knew losing out shit would only make it worse.” 

You looked up to the Karstarks before asking, “What did everyone else think, your men?” 

“It wasn’t their business. It’s our family and it wasn’t our place to argue with Stark over it, and so it sure as hell wasn’t anyone elses business how we handled it. Honestly, I think if Jorah just faced his sentence like man maybe it wouldn’t have taken us so long to get our shit together again. Instead he ran off like a coward and now we all have to live with the fact that to everyone else it looked like we just let him get away.” Her eyes squinted as she shook her head to herself. 

Being blamed for a crime you had no control over by a member of your own family, you looked up to Robb and yes, you thought. You do get why she hasn’t changed her opinion of it at all. “How’d you deal with it? At the time I mean, after he fled.” 

Whistling in dismay she took a drink. “My brother always said I was the one with the temper, but let me tell you I’ve never seen that old fucker more angry then the day he found out Jorah fled to Essos. Fuck I had to be the one to give him the news, went all the way up North just to tell him what I knew would make him lose it.” 

Your eyes narrowed in question, “Up North?” Considering where Bear Island was in your memory you came up short as to where this all would’ve taken place. 

“Brother’s up at the wall. He gave up his seat and everything to join them and give his boy his chance as Lord, so you can image how mad the was to learn his son threw away everything he passed to him personally.” Given the temper you’d seen on Maege, you could only dream of what those day’s looked like. “It gets easier, you get used to the bad shit and you move on. You and him will move on from it as well.” Nodding to Robb.

For a minute or so you were quiet, a tiny voice telling you to ask and you found yourself vulnerable enough to let it overtake your logic of silence. “How’s he doing? Your brother?” 

She smiled, a real smile. “That old bear’s Lord Commander now. So safe to say he’s doing well for himself. We kept in touch in the first few months of this shit, told him what’s happening and to pass that all onto the King’s brother.” 

There was nothing to press on there, her brother was Lord Commander and so he passed details of what happened over to Jon. But as you looked up at Robb, part of you thought to yourself that he shouldn’t have to only have you to trust. His best friend, his brother, he should've had the chance to be here too. 

It’s not fair Robb only has you now. The other man who was at his side betrayed him and it wasn’t fair because the one person who you know would stand by him better then you ever could was as far way as the brothers could be from the other. 

“He has Jorah’s sword now.” You whipper your head to look at her totally confused as she nodded to Robb. “His brother. That’s why I was up there in the first place, Jorah had the decency to leave behind the family sword. Fancy thing, Valyrian steel. Longclaw we call it, been in the Mormont’s family for five centuries and for over twenty years it just sat at the wall mocking my brother.” 

“But, then this dark haired Snow comes along and for the first time that fucker finally had a real emotion for once. Had the bear head hilt remade and everything. Carved it to look like one of those direwolves and gave it to Ned’s own boy. Funny how all this shit works out.” 

You paused as you looked to the ground, like you could see the hilt in your mind, like somewhere in the mess of dreams that kept you lost at night, you’d seen a sword, the hilt with a white wolf and red eyes and suddenly for the first time in a long time, you almost lost yourself in thinking of how much you missed him. Only broken by Maege before it got too far.

“Anyways, you got me way off track, I came over here to tell you, to do him a favour and be the one scrap of good news that he hasn’t had in weeks.” 

Not giving you a second to think, she stood up and nudged you away from her direction as you paused to turn around with a bewildered but amused look, “I’m sorry Mormont, did you just shove your Queen?” 

“Please, the King’s about to do a hell of a lot more then just that in a few minutes.” 

You’d feel flustered, but the closer you got and the louder the voices became from Robb and Roose, you lost any single sense of that courage. It all ran right out the window, “We should set the siege lines a thousand yards from Harrenhal.” 

What were you supposed to do, come to him and distract from a tactical move he’d been planning in depth and so close to it? You weren’t beside him to distract him, you needed to be his support because none else would. Stepping to them you were noticeably distant, something almost high strung about you that set the air around you on edge. 

“They won’t be able to hold a siege, not in a ruin like that. If the Mountain’s still garrisoned there, he doesn’t have enough fortification to withstand a siege.” Robb eyed you, something far away in his own gaze that you tried very hard to ignore. 

His own voice was rough, like the stress was eating away at him on the inside. “The Lannisters have been running from us since Oxcross, the only way we get them to fight is to push them into one and they can’t do that in a castle that’s barley standing.” 

Roose glancing to the pair of you, almost as if he hesitated to voice his thought before giving up and speaking anyways. “The men need a fight.” 

Your eyes were sharp as they cut to him, “And they’ll get one when the Lannisters finally decide to give us one.” 

What a fight it wouldn’t be. The sun shining over the forever smouldering castle ruins, there was nothing of Lannisters left in there, nothing behind but your own dead. The lot of you arriving in, something felt noticeably wrong. Dead Northmen and yet no single sign of the enemy and not even an inkling that they had drawn forward where Edmure was to lure them in. No, it was like they had just packed up and left.

Turning in place, the sights were ghastly. Blood of the dead, and the burning and rot of those there much longer, ones that weren’t soldiers or any kind but people. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted as you walked towards a pile of men slaughtered like sheep. Had this truly been the first time you’d faced this in months? Had it always looked this morose or were you just naive enough to think a bloodbath would be kinder then this when it wasn’t done by you.

Your gloves sticky as you peeled back the sigil sewn into the men, the flies buzzing around them spoke of a fight that took place too long ago to add up, how long had they been gone? An eagle spread over what looked like a dark field on their persons had you narrow your eyes. 

Standing up, you could hear Lord Karstark in the background. “They rot in the ground while their killer runs free?” 

You eyed the bodies burned and hanged so black they were like charcoal, the clothes of commoners still hanging off their remains so far burned there was nothing like flesh and meat for the insects to bite into. “The Kingslayer won’t remain free for long. My best hunters are after him.” 

Catelyn from where she stood identified what you had as well, “My fathers bannermen.” 

Your eyes shifted to Brynden, a tilt of your head in a dark curiosity that had him eyeing the dead with his own judgments in silence. You had been chasing ghosts, but this was not the nothing that was normally left behind for you. This was the remains of a battle you’d missed that had no place in Robb’s strategy. 

Turning to his men, Robb indicated towards his mother. “Find her a chamber that will serve as a cell.” 

Your eyes drifted before he could catch yours, making your way to a number Umbers clearing out a space below those hanging. “Let me.” Men nodding, as you climbed up multiple crates stacked, balancing carefully to cut down the bodies as they dropped to the ground with little resistance from the rope. 

Your hands on your hips as you glanced to the others. “Start bringing down the rest of them I’m not leaving them all to hang for their loved ones to find.” 

From what you could see there were at least twenty old ones, and maybe eleven more fresh that still held a burning scent if you got too close. You had been cutting down another pair, some smaller then the rest as your stomach begged you pay no mind to the size. The faces as unrecognizable as the anxiety in your stomach. 

Others had begun to care for the dead soldiers around the court as some had names to identify, others had to be made note of their sigil and passed on. Blood weighed heavily in your nose and thick on your tongue, no solace was found in such a task but at least you’d find some use. It was some time later when Roose Bolton came to your side, “Your grace.” Nodding to him you both looked to the scene for a moment, a conclusion that seemed to come to his as well and no doubt had hit Robb. 

“We’re waiting on word from Riverrun and Kings Landing.” You nodded, carefully trying to pull the leather from your hands without completely soaking the skin underneath. The attempt was fruitless.

Your voice was tight and rigid as you spoke. “The men you have, looking for the Kingslayer.” You ran your teeth over your tongue in a sting before you shook off the twisting and churning in your stomach. “You trust their loyalty as much as their skill?” 

A curious look in his eye, “I do.” 

“Good. Because if they catch him, he’ll offer whatever he can to walk free and neither me nor the King have the time for that.” You watched the half smile on his face as his eyes did not match the motion. 

His chuckle didn’t either. “I assure you, your grace they have their orders and they’ll do whatever they can to follow them. They know the punishment for disobeying a command.” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, he seemed off to you, but it was difficult to place where that was coming from. A suspicion ran through you like something you hadn’t pinned was running through your own mind. “If I may say, your grace. It seems like you’re more on edge then usual.” 

Your look was harsh as it was blank as your arms crossed your chest. “I think all of us are more then agitated at this point. Some more then others.” 

Whatever it was you were trying to find in the other just wouldn’t come out, but you had no question that there was something he wasn’t saying just as you were. Only the thing you weren’t saying couldn’t have possibly lived in the same area as what he could be ruminating on. 

The ruins of Harrenhal were not what you had imagined. A great castle encased by a never ending smoulder that left it haunting and cursed with the dead burned alive inside. Only as you walked through the echoing halls, even as the darkness swooped over the sky, you felt nothing of it. Standing at it’s best, you could envision a mighty fortress. A hundred thousand men marching on these walls and a hundred thousand men would be repelled, now it was a place fought over to be ignored. 

On a ledge overlooking one of the courtyards, the space ran as a bridge between once massive structures with carved arches in acting like windows. One foot resting up on the incline as you leaned back against the stone the other foot planted firmly on the ground as you looked high to the night. 

Stars were bright, shining and the moon not yet full but bright as ever. No distracting red to shine with an ominous glow, no clouds looming over to pour down over the blood soaked grounds, just the yell of men below and the cawing of birds in the night above. 

Maybe you could find the strength to prey to the gods, ask them to spare your sins and turn you into a bird and find a place to live out in painless quiet. You’ve heard Highgarden is beautiful in the summer. 

Looking over the raven scroll once more you wanted to scrunch it up and toss it to the wind. Tywin Lannister was now stationed in Kings Landing as proper Hand of the King, the city still stands and Stannis Baratheons fleet suffered a great loss. Just as they were minutes from breaching the gates, coming up behind them in a last minute attempt were Tywins forces backed by that of the remaining Tyrells. Pushing what was left back to the sea.

A sea that burned, the hellscape this very castle is spoken so commonly of was actually that of the Blackwater Bay. Tyrion Lannister had set the water on fire, or more accurately, wildfire. A substance you heard much about, yet never had seen of your own eyes. Bright and green that burned so hot it could not be even stood next to without feeling it’s effects. 

Created by the Targaryeans as the last of their dragons died to keep their fire and blood as true words to oppress with. The absence of any life in the West made sense now, they had moved to push on King’s Landing, because they were not drawn in on the other side. 

The Riverlands did not draw the Mountain and his troops out, instead they were pushed back enough to give them all time to turn around and make a rescue of their captiol. Many thousands had died in the firestorm of the sea, and no words except that of Stannis himself spoke of any life. None other you knew from your life on Dragonstone had any mention and perhaps you didn’t have the right to it. 

That wasn’t the only news though. No it continued to get worse. Roose Bolton’s bastard had gotten to Winterfell and there was nothing left. Just as your own troops had found. A torched castle with scours of a massacre left behind. Bran and Rickon weren’t found, and word from the men there seemed to speculate they were dead. 

You could dream, but there were no demands, no rumour of them as a hostage and nothing of the Ironborn were that of kidnappers. Bran was around Shireen’s age, he didn’t even have the chance of life that could’ve meant much. Rickon was six, how much of this war did he even truly understand? No words of their wolves sighted either. 

Six Stark children, and only four of them remained, as six direwolves and perhaps only three remained as well. As if he could hear you think, Grey Wind approached you with a nudge to your abdomen. He huffed resting his head there satisfied when you rested a hand over his head scratching his ears. You’d seen this beast rip the hearts of men from their still beating chests and bear battle with his master stained with blood. Yet now he lay across you, no more then a large dog. 

The world saw fit to make the wolves stand alone in this world. But Stags? How long had they even lasted? Two were dead, and the third stands against the forth. Somewhere across King’s Landing you had known of Robert’s bastards and yet they were all as alone as the last of you. 

Only, as Grey Wind looked up at you, your stomach twisted and suddenly were filled with the blackness of lightheaded sensations. Moving to pull your leg over the bend, you wavered as you stood up. One hand pressing against the stone wall as your eyes closed and a low rumble came from the large direwolf next to you. Nipping at the edge of your shirt he pulled you away from the window as you opened your eyes in shock. “Alright, alright.” 

Looking at the dark eyes staring up at you, you ran a hand over his face. Some comfort finding itself nestling in the pit of your stomach as you did so. Nodding your head at him to the side, he turned on a dime and walked you through the halls of ruin. 

Coming into the door, you quietly shut it behind you as Grey Wind slipped in. Robb sat on the edge of a bed, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Your heart yearning for the possibility of healing his with no hope behind such a wish. You were slow as you approached, saying nothing before coming to kneel before him. Raising his head, the redness was already passing and his eyes were the remnants of what was once tears. 

You hesitated to reach out to him, this was a raw offence he did not deserve. His youngest brothers by what was once a brother to him. Your face was as fallen as it had been much of the day, only now you had to try and be the one there for him regardless. “If I ever see him again, he’d better be thankful that all I’ll do his take his head. Bran can’t walk, Rickon was six what does he think he’s proving to anyone by murdering two boys who can’t even hope to fight back?” 

There was a choke in his tone that wanted to yell or cry but had no more tempered energy to do either one. Finding his eyes, you tried to kneel as straight postured as you could, keeping the shaking of your lungs to yourself. “He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone but himself. They found all the ravens dead, he tried to hide this.” 

Robb sighed out, his hands falling to rest along his thighs as they curled into fists. “He knew Bran and Rickon their entire lives, they’ve known him their entire lives. They saw him like a brother,” 

Catching his eyes, he finally looked into yours properly before closing them again. His exhale much shakier this time. “The Lannisters take half my family from me, and now Theon kills the other half. What am I even left with?” Opening once more he looked to you, a plead for answers in his eyes while his fists tightened in the rage of not having any control. 

“Robb,” You started, a breathy whisper before he reached up suddenly. His hand finding the back of your head as he leaned to press your foreheads together. His breathe hot on your skin as he spoke. 

“My own mother betrayed my trust behind my back, the only brother I even have left?” His jaw clenched as your hands gently found the courage to dance lightly across the part of his chest exposed to the air. “I let him vow himself to the end of the world because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for what he deserved. I think the only one I have left anymore is you.” 

One of your thumbs trailed over his jaw, as your heart raced. Pushing the images and memories of the other back down deep for Robb’s sake. You couldn’t keep this from him anymore, it was cruel. You didn’t breathe an inch as you spoke, “My love, you have more then just me. I promise.” With nothing but nerves and anxiety racing inside you, you gently opened the tight fist in his lap still, running your fingers along his until he could feel his tensity loosening. 

Robb thought you were trying to hold his hand, his brow furrowing when you took it and pulled it off his lap. Barley able to hear you as your own voice was so small, so unsure of yourself as you moved his hand to brush lightly under your shirt over your stomach. “You have us.” 

It took him a moment to even register what you had done, pausing before turning to look down at where you held his wrist that brushed over the sliver of bare stomach. “Us?” His eyes were bright as he whipped his head up to look at you, almost confused for a moment as you could see it all hit him. 

The nerves in your head ready to make you pass out as he looked back down. “You- you’re really?” 

Suddenly in his own mind, Robb put it together. The sudden distance in yourself that begun not long after you returned to the camp, the way you kept away from him and then compounding of everyone having found a way to wrong him and he felt angry. Angry that he had given you the slightest idea that he’d be unhappy with you, that he hadn’t paid more attention. 

The way you hadn’t been quite yourself, more needing of physical touch then normal to the point you even commented. You stared at him, for once too scared to try and read past his narrowed eyes and lips parted in shock as he suddenly sat up, grabbing you and hauling you into his arms and straddling his lap as he buried your face in his neck. 

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief, before letting out another. More came turning into a laugh of joy before pulling back long enough to press a kiss to your lips. Barley leaving them to speak softly, “My girl,” a smile a real smile that had barley been on his face in weeks painted over, “My perfect girl.” 

Pulling you back into another kiss, passion exploding in your mouth as you held the sides of his face as you tried not to let tears fall from them. You failed. Robb sat you on him back a little, one hand on your waist as the other ran over your stomach, “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you think I didn’t want to know about this?” 

Your chest rose with a bile that you didn’t want to form into a sob. Swallowing hard the tears did not give such an obey of order. He touched and looked at you so softly, you’d cry if you tried explaining yourself in full. All that came out as like a confession of a misbehaving little girl you once were, “I thought you’d be mad,” 

His hand now smoothed over your stomach firmer, thumb running back and forth as he narrowed his eyes in guilt. “Mad? At what for giving me the one thing I’ve dreamt of having with you for two years now?” 

Resting now on his shoulders, you held all the sadness for the both of you. “We’re at war, we have no idea when we’ll not be, the last thing you need-” 

Your name came out surprisingly stern from Robb’s lips. “Look at me.” Moving to keep your face looking right at his with a warm hand on your cheek. “War or not, you’re my wife, the love of my life. Do not think for one second, that you haven’t just given me the happiest news of my life. War or not, it’s you and me. It’s us,” His hand running over your stomach, “Now and always.” 

You wanted to say something back, anything that would return the love but all that came to mind was tears and the relief that he wanted this, he wanted this and through all of the noise inside your head? All you could do was wrap your arms around him back as he kept one of his around you and the other pressed against your stomach. 

It had been a long time in this war since you’d thought about what you genuinely wanted, but right here in Robb’s touch you found that answer. This, you wanted this. His voice was deep and the wavering of his was heard over the other clear distinction of a smile. “I hope you like being with child, my queen, because we have a whole list of names to get through.” 

The laugh you let out was choked in a sob that he yet was thrilled enough to make him laugh. “How about we have this one first, then we can go from there?” 

Robb pulled back, running his nose along the length of yours. “Oh no you’re not getting off that easy. You should know by now, there’s nothing a wolf wants then to see his mate with a whole litter of pups.” 

Your eyes crinkled in a mock protest before he kissed you again, rough but quick. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged as you both grinned, barley leaving the other enough to not feel your breath on your faces as he jested. “My mother had five children and I don’t even think they were trying for that many.” Robb turned his next kiss more sultry. Moving your jaw to the perfect angle to bite at your lip before kissing you with a greed and a tone in his voice that made you shiver. “Me on the other hand, maybe I’ll just keep you pregnant long as I can. Help my perfect little wife make us a perfect not so little family.” 

Turning you to lay you out flat on the bed, Robb pulled your shirt up and off, giving him free reign to run his hands and lips over your stomach. “May as well start now,” Crawling up the length of your body until he caged you in hovering over you. His lips brushing against yours in a soft tease, “No harm in practising for later, right?” 

Nodding, you reached up to run your fingers through his curls as he consumed you with his kiss. All biting your lips until they were red and swollen before licking his way into your mouth. Pulling away suddenly, leaving a trail of saliva to snap between you as he yanked off his own shirt before moving to impatiently pull yours until you lay bare beneath him. 

Your heart raced and your blood burned as he reached for the laces of his breeches only to catch your eye, the hunger in his must have matched what you felt in yours as he then knelt straighter up. Looking at you with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand over your jaw, “Show me how a good girl treats her King.” 

You’d collapse if you weren’t already laying down, a dizziness hitting you as you kept your eyes up on Robb, his blue eyes were as dark as the sky beyond his window. It wasn’t fair how easily he had you at his mercy, how much you wanted to be. Pulling the material down his legs until they reached where he sat on his knees, you braced your palms on his thighs before Robb tsked. Running hand through your hair before finally moving to lay you back down. 

Standing, he yanked them the rest of the way off standing bare to you as your thighs clenched together at how thick and heavy his cock was. Coming to sit on the bed beside you, he reached one hand to gently slide between your legs and push a space for his hand. Fingers brushing your clit before gently running over it with a slightly firmer pressure. 

“I’ve been a bad husband,” You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “You’ve been upset, and I didn’t even pay enough attention to notice what was wrong.” Trailing down to run along your soaked entrance before sliding back up to your clit in a teasing pattern.  “You’ve stood beside everything I’ve said and done, always supported my decisions, but I haven’t been there to take care of you back.” 

This time you found your voice, stammering part way through as he slid a finger deep inside of you, “Robb you do take care of- me, fuck,” A gasp making you breathe out the rest in moan trying to hold back. “I don’t need you to be anything but exactly who you are.” 

Head thrown back as he slowly slid his finger out before pressing a second in deep to the knuckle, his other hand running along your forehead to move your hair gently off it. “You don’t deserve to be pregnant in the middle of a war, so far from our home.” His thumb running tightly over your clit as your stomach muscles seized at the pleasure growing within. “I should be taking you in our bed, not having you on the battlefield where I can’t promise your safety.” 

Your head felt as if it were sinking slowly underwater as your core screamed at you in addictive pressure. Reaching up, you grasped the wrist close to your head, running your thumb along his pulse as Robb picked up the speed of his fingers. “I, fuck, I belong wherever you are.” Robb’s chest rose and fell faster as he felt how wet and tightly you were clenching around him. 

Moving to press his lips against yours you wrapped an arm around his neck and into his hair once more. “You stay by my side now, no matter what. We don’t leave the other,” His tone warm and yet a bit possessive as he bit at your lips to gain entrance to your mouth, his hand adding a third to make you whine as his palm rubbed against your clit roughly. Your thighs tense and shaking but just as he wanted, you kept them nice and wide. 

Your breathe almost in needing high pitched pants when Robb pulled back, a smile on your lips that Robb could’ve melted at the sight of. You clenched around him and he could feel the pressure building inside you even despite your words. “From this day until our last day,” 

Just as Robb ran a hand over the top of your head, he pressed his forehead to yours with gentle shushes as you felt your orgasm shatter. Throwing you off the cliff into the waters below with no warning as his touch kept you from arching right off the sheets. You burned and almost could cry at the waves swimming inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers until your cries turned into unspoken begs of mercy. 

Giving no time, Robb kept them inside you as he kissed you again, “Turn over, my love.” 

Only sliding out as he climbed behind you, not giving you the chance to get onto your hands and knees properly before sitting on his heels, pressing your back against his chest as he moved your hair. Leaving sloppy kisses down your neck as he slid his cock between your legs, running along the teasing entrance with your hands wrapping behind you. “Robb, please,” 

With one hand on your hip, he spread the other wide across your stomach as he breathed heavily into your ear. “If only those men could see what perfect, needy little whore their pretty queen is.” You whined as he pressed his cock to tease more firmly against you. “It won’t take long, they’ll see how well their king fucks his queen soon enough.” Letting one of your hands fall to cover his on your stomach Robb grunted before sliding his cock inside of you. As he so loved to overwhelm you, he sunk as deep as he could go in one smooth thrust. 

Pulling a cry from your lips and a growling of swearing from him as he dropped his face more into your neck. Slowly, Robb fucked up into you. Barley giving much force as he drew his cock out and pushed back in so slow that the sound of how wet you were around him was obscene. “Fuck, anyone’d fight a war just for a chance at this cunt, kill whoever it took just to be able to feel how soaked you are around their cock.” 

His teeth leaving nibbles and his facial hair rubbing the sensitive marks raw and red as he moved his lips up and down. “Good thing I’m yours then, right?” You wanted to sound sultry but you couldn’t get through the words without almost breaking with a moan. 

Robb so thick inside of you, the stretch was a sting you never knew could be so perfect. He slid his cock inside of you so smoothly without ever picking the pace up. Every vein and ridge of his cock pressing against the sensitive wall inside of you that had tears creeping out. 

The hand on your waist moved, wrapping to force your face to turn to the side and let him capture your lips. His tongue meeting yours as gently and slowly exploring as his cock fucked you like maybe the world around you would stop as long as you two were intertwined. Only pulling from your lips long enough to slur out, his voice thick and accent strong as anything like he was to deep in how you felt around his cock to care if he was intelligible. “I love you, gods I love you.” 

You tried so desperately to say it back, but it was like he teased you by kissing you harder each time or fucking you deeply to tear a gasp from your throat. He smirked when you whined his name and laughed as he could see your brows furrowing when he kissed you again. 

Bodies covered in sweat, the coiling in your stomach build slowly as he took his time with you. Never speeding up, and always covering part of you with his hands, kiss, tongue, teeth and never letting go of your stomach. Instead choosing to press your hand down against the skin so he could rest it on top with his much larger hand consuming yours. 

Your orgasm is what had the tears rolling down, it was slow and not wild like fire but a slow consumption that took your body into the flames limb by limb before you were engulfed. Your chest felt like it was floating and your head in the clouds as Robb fucked you all the same through it before he followed. Cock buried deep as he came warm and thick into you, pressing his lips to yours as you finally found a chance to mutter out, “I love you, Robb, I truly do.” 

His muscles ached as he spilled inside of you before resting his face in your neck as you both slowly started to come down. “You don’t leave my side, either of you.” His hands now both running over your stomach as he knelt you more towards the bed. 

Robb turned you in his arms to face you, one hand running over your hip and stomach while he switched between looking at your eyes and below once more. You snuggled as much as you could into his chest, Robb running his nose along your hair as you pressed into his neck. 

Tomorrow, you’d have a funeral to begin leaving for, but maybe as cruel as it was, one life was given up for the other. His grandfather’s life leaving to join the gods, so that you and Robb still on the plains of the living could bring a new life together. 

A few name ideas for boys rolled around in his head, but he worried not. Robb would share enough children with you to honour all of them. He’d make sure of it just as much as he could see in the hope in your eyes, that you too, wanted all of it. 

It didn’t just startle Jon, it almost horrified him. His conscious mind desperate to justify his actions, fighting between telling himself what he knew was true, versus what he was lying to himself about to cope with the reality. 

If he didn’t think about it, he could ignore how this was supposed to be with you. He could pretend that it didn’t matter how this played out, or lie to himself and say it felt good because he wanted it. The alternative outside the walls of the cave was death, prove your worth or die and this was the path chosen for him to do so. 

As long as it felt good and he lied to himself, Jon could pretend as if he was fine with it. Until the image of you, dragging a hand to your stomach flashed before his eyes. The gentle brush of fingers against a stomach that he somehow knew was pregnant and he flushed with how clearly Ygritte thought such a physical response was for her. 

Jon could feel his hand against your stomach, and he could see a dream of a baby. Eyes coloured just as yours but the hair was dark and curls that he knew all too well on himself. Let him think it was for her, and maybe Jon would get through this and just accept that lie as truth. 

But Jon could see the child in his mind, the swell in your stomach and your breathless needy sigh in his ear that had been his only source of comfort in the rough beds at the wall. He could see all of it, and he felt shamed that on the other side of you, he could only envision himself, not the brother he knew it really was all for. 

Jon could pretend he wanted this, when he knew the opposite was true, that he didn’t send his only protection left away at her demand. He could pretend that she was just like you when the opposites were the reality, and Jon would lie to himself as long as she was with him that he did want it. 

Lying to himself about this was easier then admitting the truth, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t get to tell himself that he was forced into it. He should be better then that, and yet the only thought that kept Jon from cracking that resolve and leaving him broken, was the image of you with a child that should have been his. 

The image of a pregnant wife that looked nothing like the wildling girl who acted as if such a role belonged to her. The need in the sounds in his head that belonged to you when they were being given to his brother. 

He told you to love him, he wanted you to love him. But in this cave, Jon found no solace in the forced pleasure his body was having that you willing shared with his brother. His mind wasn’t settled and it burned him harder each time he could see the woman he was with. 

Jon did this beacuse he had no choice, and he would lie to himself about not being forced into it for as long as he needed to to handle such a truth. But Jon couldn’t hide from himself, that every time he saw you as he touched the wildling girl, it fed her delusion of what she was to him. She forced him into it, and pretended as if his pleasure was the only consent she needed. You never did and never would force him into a single thing if you thought he doubted or hesitated in wanting. You respected him like none ever did or still does.

And it fed the pain that made Jon want to scream. This didn’t belong to her. It belonged to you.  

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

not a hc but can you rank lucy's stardresses?

A fit rank huh? Sure I can do that. Just gonna preface n say that obviously this is my opinion and whatevs and that I won't be includin any of the ones introduced in 100yr because I don't care about the sequel :]

Alrightie lets get into it! This gonna get long tho, so imma put it under read more so I don't murder ppl who are scrolling.

Aquarius Stardress

This one honestly might be on the lower tiers for me. Like for the first stardress shown its rather, boring. The colour choice of green and yellow is weird, and visually disconnects it from Aquarius (like seriously? No blue anywhere?). The wrap skirt is cute and I do love how she has Aquarius' collarbone tattoo. That's fire. But the basic bikini top is meh. Overall its serviceable, 6/10 on the Phoenix scale.

Leo Stardress

Honestly can't go wrong with a nice black dress. I really would've preferred a pants suit for this one but the dress regardless is fun. I has a nice shape with the asymmetrical skirt and I like the ruffles all over. I also like how the anime gave her stockings

If I had nitpicks i'd say to get rid of the center line down the middle of the chest, the two under the bust are enough and get rid of the purple hair clip, it feels tacked on and just tosses in a random colour to the palette. I'd also maybe change the yellow to something more orange so it pops more (maybe even make the interior of the dress something eyecatching to add some extra oomph visually when she's kicking.)

But good fit, 8/10

Virgo Stardress

Well, it's about what you'd expect tbh. It's a maid outfit lol. There ain't much here to say cept that its cute. 6/10

Tauros Stardress

Oh hell fuckin yea. HELL YEAH

Unabashedly this one is one of my favourites solely because of the uneven pants. It's so fun and stupid. I also like how she and Tauros have matching belt buckles.

The basic ass bikini top does bring it down though (sorry i'm a bikini top hater. If you're gonna put a character in a bikini top at least make it a different style! There's different types of tops that can be both sexy and interesting!!!!). It also looks wack at certain angles.

My chest hurts lookin at this.

Apart from that I don't think the double buns works best with this dress, I think it'd work better if swapped with the double braids of the capricorn dress. Also I just think it'd be cool if this dress gave her an axe, like how the cancer dress gave her weapons.

but because of how much joy the stupid pants give me, 9/10.

Sagittarius Stardress

Another banger stardress despite a glaringly obvious issue.

This shit's great to me. Good colours, fun patterns, i fuckin love that its backless and the high ponytail is great here. The issue?

That deep ass coochie cut.

On god it just looks so uncomfortable. The anime tried to even it out by giving her tights but that just tossed in another colour to the palette and just unbalances it. A simple fix would've been just to make it white leggings under there. Skin tight, sexy and still practical. Apart from the coochie cut the only nitpick I have is that I think the boob window should've been star shaped and i wish her sleeves also doubled as archery gloves.

Apart from that and how much the coochie cut haunts me, its a 9/10

Aires Stardress

Now I have no idea why, but I was never exactly big on this one. Like it's not awful, all the stardresses have a baseline cuteness to them. The alternating pink and white tiers on the dress is nice, but the cut under the bust kinda kills the uniform pattern it had goin on. Likewise the leggings don't feel coherent to the rest of the fit. Like still cute, but the stripes and the introduction of black makes the whole thing feel busy and plain all at once. Though ironically when it's in the manga and purely black and white i think it looks better.

But I dunno, i think this one actually might be my least favourite. 4/10

Gemini Stardress

Ok. I like the alternating blue and white all over. That's cool. But, that headdress on top of the already busy outfit feels like its a lil too much on top. Also the random gold baubles on the outfit itself feels sorta thrown on. The belt can stay I suppose but nix the tassels near the collar and trade in the boob window for a deeper neckline.

We can just get rid of the headdress altogether and change her hairstyle to like, crown braid with a hanging blue and white ribbon on either side to keep with the alternating colours and we golden. 5/10

Scorpio Stardress

Gonna start this off to say, not a big fan of the bottom (the leather panty thing with the chain on it? Dawg idk i don't like it lol). and the chain on it looks so silly and not in a fun way. If anything I think she should have a bigger tail, not as big as scorpio's but defs something bigger that what she has currently. And as much as I like backless fits I don't think it works here, the deep cut boob window can stay though. I do like the headband and how her hair frames her face but overall its another 5/10.

Also here's a scorpio stardress redesign that I like. Doesn't fix all my issues with the og but it's still pretty dope.

Cancer Stardress

I like this because it looks cool and gives Lucy weapons. I don't like it because it doesn't connect well with Cancer the spirit visually. But Cancer's design sucks and I like this better than Cancer himself. Truly a design with conundrums for me. 6/10

Capricorn Stardress

I don't like this dress! Not one bit! Why is it a bdsm tit dress! The hair is cute and I like the shades and the horn clips with the bows but the dress!!!!!!!! Why is it so visually disconnected from Capricorn the spirit! Why isn't it a skirt suit with sexy fishnet leggings like in the concept art!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why isn't this the canon design!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tragic/10

[flameraven]

All the Kingdoms of the World

You know what historical flashback I want to see in S3? Crowley's temptation of Jesus. Especially with Jesus returning in the Second Coming, I think that would be a very interesting character moment for both of them. Here's the way the scene plays out in the Bible, Mark 4:1-11:

4 Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted[a] by the devil. 2 After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. 3 The tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” 4 Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’[b]” 5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 6 “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: “‘He will command his angels concerning you,     and they will lift you up in their hands,     so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’[c]” 7 Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’[d]” 8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9 “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” 10 Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’[e]” 11 Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.

The account in Luke is very similar, mostly just switching the order of the temptations. Now. Good Omens puts Crowley in that position instead, and I can't see Crowley tempting Jesus to "bow down and worship him". But I do think he'd have some very interesting questions for the Son. It's probably the closest he's ever going to get to asking Her directly. Side note: boy oh boy do I want to see how Good Omens handles the whole "Jesus IS God but is also a separate entity" aspect of Christianity. Good Omens has, I think, a pretty critical view of God, with Crowley as the audience surrogate making a point to look at God and Heaven's actions and be like "is it just me or is that pretty fucked up?" So I am desperately curious to see if Jesus, who IS God according to doctrine, is on board with Her whole Testing-Humanity-to-Destruction plan or not. Does Jesus have Free Will? Jesus accepted his destined role to die for Humanity; is he going to rebel like Adam did, or be fully on board with leading Apocalypse 2.0? Anyway! Crowley's temptation. As I said, I doubt that Crowley handled things the way we see in the text. I can't see him asking Jesus to worship him. I could see him instead trying to appeal to Jesus's humanity and/or free will, though. Something like: Look at this, there's a whole world out there. Why not go live your life? You could go anywhere you want, do anything. Are you really going to do this? Sacrifice yourself at Her command? In a way, it could be the same message he gave Adam at the airbase: you're human, you have free will. You don't have to be what Destiny says you should be. You can choose. We know that Jesus, at that time, chose to follow his Destiny. If he gets a second chance in S3, will he make the same choice? I do think that "do angels and demons have free will? (yes)" will be a key theme of S3, and I'm fascinated to see whether that idea extends to Jesus, too. I'm doubtful it will be so easy as Jesus refusing his role, though-- this seems like a story about the power of powerless individuals to affect change, so having the story resolved by perhaps the ultimate Authority figure doesn't seem to fit. But we do know from the promo teasers that something about Armaggeddon 2.0 has "gone wrong...."

[cherryxblossxms]

Masturbation May - Day 1b: On Video/Sexting (Nanami Kento)

A/N: This is part 2 of day 1 of the On Video/Sexting prompt for Masturbation May! An anonymous sender suggested the dear husband Nanami. These were so fun to write. This ended up being so much more dialogue heavy than I expected whoa

Featuring: GN reader || Nanami x reader

Warnings: Sexting, talk of masturbation obviously, Kento is pent up; reader is also a sorcerer (but not relevant); pet names (darling, love); technically mutual masturbation but shhhh. Edited at 5am so ignore any mistakes....

Word count: 1812 (wtf—)

══════════════════

Looking at Kento, you would never guess that he could be into sexting. But during your relationship, he surprised you many times with how much of a tease he could be, the way he joked with you, the saucy photos he occasionally sent, and the suggestive yet elegant words he'd use when he wanted to play with you.

Sexting was one such surprise, but given the numerous times you two were separated when sent off on important missions, it was a big way for you two to connect over the distance. Although Nanami didn't like saying it explicitly, feeling it was a little vulgar, fighting always seemed to make him hunger for you. Maybe it was just primal instinct, or simply a side effect of the blood pumping in his veins going to sensitive areas. But he often found himself in want of you after a fight, and when you weren't physically available, sexting was the next best thing.

Today was one such exception as Nanami entered his hotel after taking care of a particularly difficult curse. He'd quickly showered and got some room service to sate his appetite, but a different type of hunger was lurking just below. No matter what show or movie he put on, he couldn't seem to get his mind off of you, wondering what you were up to, what you were wearing at that moment, how you were faring without him.

In all honesty, he didn't often fully indulge when you two did sext; he still let you have your fun and worked you through your orgasms, your pleasure was so important to him. But he'd rarely get himself off, instead preferring to satisfy himself fully once he was with you. However, he couldn't seem to shake the neediness emanating from himself tonight.

It felt a little silly, but you were always understanding and indulging in him as he opened up to his more passionate feelings. The time had become late after the fight, but he knew you would likely still be up. It took a moment of mental fighting before he finally unlocked his phone to send you a text. Something simple, he'd never be so vulgar as to jump out the gates with an explicit text; he always tested the water first, your comfort was his first priority, his dick could wait.

You responded promptly, as he'd imagined, just asking him about his mission and making sure he was okay. But as he continued responding, you seemed to show that you knew something was up, about some ulterior motive for his late night contact. Your responses became more teasing, gauging how he was feeling as you let things become a little more risqué. Nanami always thanked the fates that you knew him so well and finally unleashed a little of his hunger into the chat.

He could feel himself getting hard against his thigh, a tent forming in his soft pajama pants as he let his imagination wander, but he ignored it for now, just letting the temperature turn up between you two naturally. However, he did slip off his sleep shirt, feeling too warm suddenly. Finally, an innocent looking text at first glance but with deeper meaning that he expected:

(9:36PM) You: What are you thinking of?

He couldn't help but chuckle at that as he typed out his response.

(9:39PM) Nanami: You are asking something you already know the answer to.

(9:40PM) You: And? I'd still like to hear it in your words. Or read i guess

He thought for a moment over your choice of words. To be honest, he hadn't expected to really get anywhere with the chat. But the aching in his groin was reaching an annoying level, and you seemed interested in continuing. More than that, he needed to see your face, wanted to see the one he loved.

(9:45PM) You: Kento? Are you still there?

(9:47PM) Nanami: Yes, sorry, I'm still here.

(9:48PM) Nanami: I know it is late. But would you be interested in doing a video call?

He could just picture you raising your eyebrows at him, he so rarely initiated like that; now that he thought of it, he's not sure he ever initiated over video before. But a second later, his question was answered as a call came in from your number in place of a response. He quickly accepted, and he couldn't help the smile that formed when he saw your face. You smiled back immediately. He could see you dressed in your pajama shirt with the sheets visible in the background, lying back against your shared bed.

"Hi, Kento."

"Hello, darling," he responded. His brows furrowed a little, worried he'd caught you too late. "Are you going to bed soon?"

You shook your head, your smile teasing. "No, I'm not tired yet. But with the way our conversation was going, I thought the bed might be the best place to get comfortable."

Nanami raised an eyebrow at that. Knowing full well what you were implying, he straightened his face as he questioned, "Oh? Get comfortable for what?"

"You know full well what for," you responded, frowning at him. But he could see the playful, fiery look in your eyes, showing you were far from upset. "I think someone needs some stress relief, and I'm here to help."

Nanami's cock twitched in response, and he held back from reaching down just yet to relieve the ache that had built up. He hummed instead, pretending to think.

"And how do you intend on doing that?"

"I thought maybe a little video sex would be good. If you're feeling up to it, of course," you quickly added. "But if you're tired, then we can just talk."

Nanami shook his head almost too quickly. "No, love, I'm alright. I think you're exactly what I need right now."

"Good."

The look in your eyes was captivating, and you angled the camera down to where your hand rested on your chest, before slowly trailing it down your front to your groin followed by the camera, revealing a lack of bottoms. Your thighs were pressed together, your hand covering your groin as the camera aimed down, before slowly opening your thighs to expose yourself.

Nanami couldn't help but groan, wanting nothing more than to be buried between your thighs. It was times like this that he hated having to travel and be away from you, his favorite form of stress relief was pleasuring you. He knew all the ways to unravel you, had your reactions down to a science; it was torture not to be able to deliver this pleasure to you himself.

Your arousal was obvious, your essence already leaking and catching the soft glow of the lamp light, and he watched as you traced a light line along the inside of your thighs, seeing the way your body twitched from the teasing. He repeated the action on himself over his pants, now fully hard, shivering as he felt the soft material rub against him.

As you worked your hand towards your center, rubbing slowly, Nanami tugged the hem of his pants down, freeing his aching cock. He was normally a patient man, working up his pleasure slowly to fully enjoy the experience. But seeing you work towards your own pleasure and knowing he couldn't touch you seemed to be doing all sorts of things to his body.

He quickly spit on his free palm as lube and wasted no time in stroking his shaft in time to your own movements. He couldn't help but imagine it was his own fingers that were stroking you, too, doing it just the way you like.

As things grew hotter and more desperate, he could start to hear your voice more, panting and soft moans coming from his phone's speaker. Suddenly, you swiveled the camera back up to your face, lust evident in your eyes but a frown on your lips, making Nanami stop in his tracks.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I want to see you too, Kento," you replied. "Please?"

He immediately understood what you meant. This was another rarity for him, that even when you two did engage in phone sex, he didn't really like having the camera on himself. But that seemed unfair to you, especially when you asked so nicely, and he did want to show you how much he needed you right now. How could he not indulge his lover at least this once?

"Sorry, darling, of course," he said, and changed the camera to the back camera on his phone.

As the image changed from his face to his cock instead, he heard a breathy "fuck" come from your lips. Your camera view went back down as you resumed your movements, and Nanami continued as well. As he grew closer to climax, little groans began to spill from his lips, and you were being just as vocal; you both just needed a little push to fall off the edge together now.

"Are you close, my love?"

"Yeah, I'm almost there."

"Good. You're doing so well." Nanami worked his hand over the tip of his cock, squeezing and rutting his hips. "I'm almost there, as well. I want you to come with me, please."

"Yes, oh, fuck—"

Nanami had barely gotten your response before he saw your body twitch and tremble as you came. The sight of you cumming was enough to push him over the edge too and he joined you in climax, aiming himself towards his chest so as not to dirty the hotel sheets, covering his chest and hand with his release instead.

His thighs gently shook from the aftershocks of pleasure, and he hung his head back, just catching his breath. He heard your giggle and the camera went back up to your face, a sleepy but satisfied smile on your face.

"That was so hot, Kento," you said, lying back against your pillow. "Was it OK for you?"

Nanami switched the view to his front camera again, his face filling the video thumbnail once more, and smiled back at you. Oh, it was more than okay. However, now something in him craved your touch, your physical presence, even more than earlier, but he kept that part quiet.

"It was perfect, love, thank you," he said. "You always know just what I need. I should be able to come home soon, so I'll make sure to repay the favor to you when I get back."

"Ooh, I look forward to it," you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I love you. I'll let you get your sleep now. I can't wait to see you soon."

"I love you too, darling. Good night."

You two exchanged air kisses before ending the call. Nanami had never felt so satisfied, physically and mentally restored just upon experiencing that mutual bliss with you. Although the distance was difficult, he was glad you two could make something work on the phone, and couldn't wait until he could be back in your arms again.

[baby--charchar]

Middle!Charlie and the beautiful, gorgeous, oh-so-coveted Pink Hair

Big Charlie thinks appearance is a huge part of business! She wants to look professional and respectable, in order for others (especially Heaven) to start taking her and the hotel seriously. Clean, well-kept hair pulled back, well manicured nails, and of course, her beautiful candy apple red suits, which are dry cleaned and ironed religiously. It's all part of her ✨️brand✨️!

Middle!Charlie? Oh hell no! Her style is just so...different. All the suits and dress shoes just feel so stuffy and old. And Charlie HATES getting stuck in them when she accidently regresses midday.

Actually, clothes were one of the biggest hints that vaggie got that Charlie was regressing into middlespace originally. When she's LITTLE little, it's so obvious. The crying, the clinginess, her fascination with toys and Disney. But middle!Charlie is more subtle. The clothes were the first hint because Charlie just woke up one day complaining how her suits were "gross" and "old looking," but everything from her little wardrobe was "dumb" and "for babies."

Middle Charlie is anywhere from 9 to 13, but usually hovers around the lower range.

She wants to wear bright, cheerful things that match all that energy she has! She's drawn to pastels, neons, and an ungodly amount of glitter. One of her favorite outfits when she's feeling middle is pink leggings with gold foil hearts on them, a bright blue cat ear hoodie, and having her hair half-up in a bunny ear scrunchie.

She's drawn to Angel and Cherri whenever she's in her middle range because they're just so cool! Yeah, they wear really cool outfits and do their make up every night to go party. But beyond that! They just radiate big brother and big sister energy and Charlie ends up following them around the hotel like a little duckling.

She's totally adorable, so they don't have a problem with her sticking around. They know to watch what they say around her; no drug or sex talk when she's around just on principle. No cussing either, but that one's because Vaggie warned them not to. Other than that, they all love music, dancing, karaoke, watching anime, all sorts of fun stuff for a "chill" night in at the hotel.

Cherri especially is like the coolest big sister to Charlie. She teaches her dances from KPOP videos and is always down to do her hair and nails. Charlie admires her a ton, and always mentions how she wishes she could dress like her. Especially her pink hair!!! Middle Charlie is just so obsessed with her ombre pink ponytail!!!

Cherri makes one fatal mistake, one comment that sends Charlie spiraling and Vaggie after her with a pitchfork: "Ya know, you could probably rock some pink too. You probably wouldn't even need to lighten your hair."

"....."

"You could do just the ends, or maybe a little peekaboo in the back?"

Cue the spiraling. Three hours of "Please, please, please, PLEASE!!! PLEASE PINK HAIR?! PLEASE?!" at Daddy and Vaggie. Daddy wasn't sure one way or another, he just hoped this didn't mean a resurgence of the dreaded Emo Phase.

Vaggie put her foot down. "Not tonight, no. We can think about it later. But for now, the answer is no. End of discussion."

Vaggie didn't REALLY have a problem with it. In fact, she thought it'd be cute. But she firmly believes that littles and middles can't be making big choices like that. At the very least, she wanted to hear what Charlie thought about it when she WASN'T regressed.

Of course, this did not sit well with Charlie. "It's not fair!!! I'm not THAT little!!! It's MY hair!!! YOU'RE SO MEAN, VAGGIE!!! YOU NEVER LET ME DO WHAT I WANT!!! UGH!!!" *stomp stomp stomp upstairs*

Vaggie was not even phased, she's used to a little drama from her princessa. She secretly thinks that Charlie uses her as sounding board for all her mommy issues when she's in her middle space. Which is fine, get it all out now and maybe it won't be such a shit show when Lilith actually returns.

ANNNYYYYWAYYYY.........grumpy middle Charlie immediately apologizes when Vaggie gets upstairs and has a big cathartic cry session before passing out for the night.

The next day, Vaggie breaches the topic of dying her hair. Charlie...doesn't know now. Part of her still really wants it....it'd look so cute.....just a little pink. But what about the hotel and heaven? Would people take her seriously with hair like that?

(Vaggie called it. Littles and middles can't be consenting for bigs!)

Charlie thinks on it long and hard. Everytime she regresses she comes back to wanting pink hair. Even baby Charlie reaches for Cherri's pink hair when she sees it! It's just...so cute!

Eventually Big Charlie says, "Screw it, let's do this! I want pink!"

So next time Charlie's middle, Cherri's whipping out the dye, the ratty towels, the gloves, the foils, the brushes and mixing bowl, etc. Girl knows what she's doing!

They decide on peekaboo in the back. That way Charlie can actually get a lot of pink but still hide it easily if she needs to be super professional. Vaggie's there to supervise.

AND CHARLIE LOVES IT!!! Once it's rinsed and dried, she's showing off to anyone who'll listen. "Daddy, look at my hair! Husk, Alastor, look! I got pink hair! Angel, angel, do you see my hair? Look! Cherri did it, she made it pink!!!"

The next morning, Vaggie catches Charlie hovering by the bathroom mirror with a grin, and muttering, "Pink, pink...! Omg...it's really pink!" Vaggie just smirks at her little princessa.

[angelsdean]

wanna preface this by saying if my tone comes across as biting, i did not mean that! especially not to you! i feel ok sending this in bc i agree with your takes on s8/9

anyway lol! maybe a spicy take but…

if we’re blaming dean for kevin’s death, then we’ve gotta blame sam for charlie’s and benny’s, cas for mary and jo and ellen and anna and bobby and sam (s5) and honestly i love you cas but i could probably go on :/

but seriously, i don’t actually *blame* them for these deaths bc while dean/sam/cas’s actions helped create the situations that got each character dead, their actual deaths were on other characters’ choices or even their own (sam, benny). the blame game is just too simple for how complicated spn is. like if you blamed them for every death that occurred after a sequence of events that included their actions, for every death that they were indirectly involved with, it’d just be impossible to count. and that’s just not productive or fair imo yk 🤷‍♀️

yea i definitely get what you're saying. there are a lot of factors playing into things, and chain reaction domino effects that lead from one character making a decision to another character way down the line killing someone. that doesn't necessarily mean the first character is responsible for the death or should be the one that is blamed for it. they couldn't have foreseen how events would transpire. however, i do think, like you said, these situations are more complicated and nuanced. and in some scenarios the "blamed" character did play more of a part in the death of another character. but i don't think in the case of kevin's death dean should be shouldering the blame or responsibility here at all.

like, the stuff with blaming dean for kevin's death feels unfair imo because well, when dean made the choice to let gadreel try to save sam (and sam still !! had to say yes himself!) dean didn't have all the facts. he thought gadreel was ezekiel. he thought this was a friend of cas's that he could trust. he didn't know he was opening the door to someone with ulterior motives, who might try to hurt people he cared about. and secondly, kevin's death was coming, one way or another, because as @aliveboydean says in this post, metatron wanted him dead and wasn't going to stop until he was. so if gadreel hadn't gotten him, metatron very likely would have killed him.

to address another seemingly similar situation where i come away feeling differently: sam and charlie. i have to say i kinda do "blame" sam for charlie's death, because he roped charlie back in. she really would not have been there or been in that situation or been a target for the Stynes had sam not specifically invited her to come help them. and while it seems like charlie and kevin's deaths are comparable, a key distinguishing factor is that one would have been safe had they not been in that specific situation that another character (sam) put them in, while the other always was in danger simply for being who they were. charlie's death is different from kevin's because kevin was always in the line of fire, always had a target on his back by simply being a prophet. so many people wanted to kill him, he wasn't uniquely in danger being around the winchesters. and he wasn't put IN danger solely because of dean's actions. he was always in danger, the whole time. no matter where in the world kevin was, people were going to be out to get him. and i'd argue he was safer in the bunker (and therefore around sam and dean) than anywhere else in the world. dean had no way of knowing gadreel would kill kevin! but charlie was just a regular person who no one cared about killing. if she hadn't been brought in at that time and made a target for the stynes she...most definitely would still be alive.

SO, i think at the very least dean is definitely allowed to blame sam in-world and be pissed at him. (tho sam is obvs still not the one that killed her. but i can understand if dean felt resentment toward him for her death). but. yea i kinda do see sam as more responsible for charlie's death in this case than dean with kevin's because the scenarios and key factors are different. that's what i feel a lot of people don't get when they want to issue blanket statements of who to blame for what and who did worse. there's nuance! and two seemingly similar situations are not always a 1:1 comparison. (this isn't directed at you, just a general sentiment abt fandom)

(and i think a similar situation for cas is mary's death. and i fall somewhere in the middle for him. he knew jack was dangerous at the time. he should've said something. he's still not the one who killed mary though and he couldn't have predicted that outcome)