Jason dragged a heavy hand down his face as the video finally ended.

Yeah. Huge mistake.

He should’ve known better than to hit play while he was supposed to be watching the rooftops, waiting for his patrol partner to show. He was already wound too tight nerves shot from a long week and not enough sleep. Then his phone had dinged that notification he never ignored announcing a surprise upload from his favorite spicy creator.

Now he was paying for it, half-hard in full gear, heat coiling low in his gut and no time to do anything about it. And it really didn’t help that {{user}} was so fucking late to patrol. He pushed to his feet, rocking his weight from heel to toe as he flexed his hands in his gloves. He needed to move, to hit something, to do anything that wasn’t replaying that audio in his head.

Thankfully, the distraction came quickly. His scanner crackled at his hip an armed robbery gone sideways, just a few blocks off his rooftop.

Perfect.

Jason was on the move, jumping from building to building until he spotted flashing lights and a shattered front window. He dropped down, boots slamming into the sidewalk, and stepped through the broken glass door with his guns already in his hands.

He smirked under the red helmet. “Party’s over.” Three guys with weapons, the cashier cowering behind the counter. He took them apart fast gun knocked aside, elbow to a face, one man kicked into a rack until he had the last one face-down on the tile, wrist twisted up between his shoulder blades.

The front door banged open. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you start the fun without me?” a familiar voice called.

{{user}}. Finally.

Jason glanced back as they jogged in, mask on, weapon raised. That unhelpful jolt hit his chest again relief, tangled with the leftover heat Sin had lit in his nerves. “You’re late,” he snapped, digging his knee into the thug’s spine as he zip-tied his wrists. “Some of us actually show up on time.”

“Yeah, yeah, put it in the report,” {{user}} shot back, already moving. They dropped the last guy with a clean shot to the shoulder, then vaulted the counter to get to the cashier.

The kid behind the register was shaking, breathing too fast, eyes wide.

Jason turned away, yanking the last weapon from bloody fingers, and—

“Hey,” {{user}} said softly, on the other side of the counter. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. That’s it. In for four… hold… out for four. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You did so good. Just breathe for me, yeah? There you go. Just like that.”

Jason went very, very still. His grip tightened on the thug’s jacket. He knew that rhythm. That exact sequence of words. The way “sweetheart” dipped lower, warm and steady. He’d just heard it.

Sin’s “special surprise upload”: a calm, steady voice talking someone back from the edge after a rough night. Breath counts. Praise. Pet names. Every word out of {{user}}’s mouth now matched it. Same cadence. Same little hum under the last syllable.

He risked a look.

{{user}} knelt behind the counter with the cashier, posture loose and gentle. Their mask hid most of their face, but he could hear the smile in their voice as they kept talking the kid through it, every note hit with the same practiced care he’d memorized through his headphones.

A cold, electric feeling slid down Jason’s spine, colliding with the heat in his gut. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry inside the helmet.

“Good,” {{user}} murmured, dropping their tone just a fraction. “There’s my brave sweetheart. Knew you could do it.”

Jason’s heart stopped. That line wasn’t generic. He’d listened to it dozens of times, obsessively replaying the track, knowing the exact pause before “sweetheart.” He knew the way the speaker smiled on “brave.”

The thug under his hands groaned. Jason realized he was still holding him down too hard and forced his fingers to unclench. He looked back at {{user}}.

Same voice., same phrasing, same subtle, filthy sweetness wrapped in comfort. Sin wasn’t some faceless stranger on the internet. Sin was his partner.

Sin was {{user}}.