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juniperskye · 22 days ago

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I Can’t Do This.

Sneak peek: Reader is recently off of a long-term undercover operation (similar to Emily’s) that left her in a bad way. Director Cruz reaches out, assigning her to the BAU. After speaking to her therapist and expressing her concerns, they come up with a solution of how to inform her new boss of some of the horrors she endured on her mission. Hotch keeps a close eye on her, being careful not to trigger her…until one day, he accidentally does in the worst way. ITALLICS ARE FLASHBACKS! BOLD ARE THERAPY SESSIONS.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) BAU! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5605

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI,YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. age gap (reader is in their 20’s and Hotch is in his 40’s), explicit language, mention of canon typical violence, mention of therapy, reader attends regular therapy sessions, mention of a toxic previous “relationship”, mention of a previous dom/sub dynamic, murder, talk of trafficking, forced consent (reader is working the undercover op) mention of previous abuse and manipulation, some use of y/n, Hotch accidentally triggering the reader, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Y/n it has been three months since you returned from your undercover op, it’s time. The BAU needs an additional agent, and you’d make a great addition. It’s really not up for discussion.” Director Cruz ended with finality.

“I really don’t think I am ready. Director Cruz, I know it has been three months, and you guys have been so gracious with the paid leave, but I’m still working through everything I went through when I was under.” You explained.

“Your therapist and the FBI issued psych eval have both cleared you to return y/n. You’re joining the BAU. You’ll begin next Monday.” Cruz decided.

“Okay.”

With that you stood and exited his office. It’s not that you didn’t want to work for the BAU, in fact, under normal circumstances you’d have been begging for this placement. But after everything you endured while undercover, you weren’t sure you could handle being on a team, especially not one run by Aaron Hotchner.

“You were recommended to me by Sheri, did she tell you anything about me?” He questioned.

“She mentioned you were looking for someone who knew how to follow rules.” You answered.

You had been assigned to an undercover operation in which a very powerful man would finally be brought to justice. Emilio Alvatorre, one of FBI’s most wanted. This man did unspeakable things and lucky for you, he was in the market for a new submissive. Normally the FBI wouldn’t jump at putting an agent in this kind of situation, however, in this case Emilio was known to keep his subs knelt at his side in his office. That would mean that you would be privilege to information that could take him down.

“So, are you good at following rules?” Emilio said in a voice meant to be sexy, but it was truly repulsive.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, “The best.”

“I’m worried that Agent Hotchner is going to give me a directive and that I will follow it whether I agree with it or not. I am terrified that I have completely lost myself, and that I will just blindly follow.” You explained.

“Y/n we’ve talked about this, you are strong, you are capable of making decisions and speaking up for yourself.”

“Yeah but being at the BAU with Agent Hotchner, he’s a very commanding and dominant man, what if I fall right back into…” You trailed off.

“He is commanding and dominant, but he isn’t Emilio. I am going to give you some homework, and then I’d like to see you again on Thursday so we can go over it before you join the BAU Monday.”

“You’re right. What’s the homework?” You asked.

“I want you to first come up with a list of coping strategies for when you begin to feel anxious or overwhelmed on the job. Then I want you to write a letter to read to Agent Hotchner giving him some insight as to what you have been through.”

“Absolutely not! Sylvia I can’t do that!”

“Y/n I am not asking you to give him all the details, just a little bit that might help him to know you.”

“Fine.”

You had a hard time figuring out what to put in the letter to Agent Hotchner, debating what was too much versus what was too little to say. How much did he need to know, how much were you comfortable sharing…it was all becoming a bit much.

Ultimately, you’d written something up along with a perfect list of coping strategies that you knew would satisfy your therapist.

After meeting with her on Thursday and going over what you came up with, and allowing her to help you tweak a few things, your body filled with dread, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when you’d have to go into the BAU.

Director Cruz escorted you to the floor that houses the BAU, bringing you into Agent Hotchner’s office for introductions. You felt like you had just walked out on a stage completely naked with the way all the other agents were looking at you.

“Hotchner, this is Agent y/n. I sent over her file last week. She is going to start with the BAU today.” Director Cruz announced.

“Yes, I saw your email. It is nice to finally meet you.” Agent Hotchner greeted.

“Y/n would you excuse us for just a moment, I’d like to speak to Hotch here.”

Without another word you followed the director’s order. You stepped out of the office and stood patiently waiting for their conversation to end.

“She’s anxious.” Spencer mumbled.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Emily replied.

“No, look at her, she’s digging her nails into her palms, a light sweat has broken out on her neck, her heartrate has increased slightly, and she hasn’t looked up at us once. She’s probably suffering from severe anxiety.” Spencer rambled.

“Don’t profile the newbie Spence.” Emily scolded, patting his shoulder.

“Alright, y/n go on in and Hotch will fill you in on what his expectations for you are.” Director Cruz headed off.

With a light knock, you awaited Agent Hotchner’s approval before entering his office once again. Mentally chastising yourself for your submissive actions.

“Agent y/n, please, have a seat.” Hotch gestured.

You sat in one of the chairs across from him.

“It says here in your file that you’re recently returning from a twelve-month assignment. I noticed the assignment isn’t labeled as classified, but quite a bit of it was redacted. Can you speak on that at all?” Hotch inquired.

“Agent Hotchner, if it is okay with you, I have somethings I’d like to discuss. Some of which is relevant of that case, but it is primarily regarding the effects that case had on me.”

“Go ahead.” Hotch nodded.

“The undercover op I was working put me in a position in which I was forced and manipulated to blindly following directions from someone. I had to do this for twelve months, and since then, I have had a pretty hard time finding my voice again. Certain things can be triggering for me, so I wrote up some things for you, with the help of my therapist. There are coping strategies that I may need to utilize and there are somethings there for you, to navigate situations that may come up.” You were worried that this was all going to lead to Hotch doubting your ability to do this job. “I also want to make it known that I told the Director that I wasn’t ready to return to work.”

“Thank you for sharing this, I think it’ll help me to make your transition back to work smooth. As for you being ready, I think you sharing that information shows a lot about your strength and I think you are more than ready to be here.”

“Kneel.” Emilio ordered with a snap of his fingers.

You slowly dropped to your knees, sitting back on your heels and resting your palms on the tops of your thighs, your gaze focused on the frayed rug that covered the hardwood floor in front of you.

“Bring him in.” Emilio spoke into the intercom that connects him to his security.

The guards drag in a man who appears to be near death, clearly beaten. Emilio rests a hand on your head, gently petting your hair before speaking in a tone you don’t recognize.

“I heard you’ve been snooping around. Talking to Jeremy and his guys.” Emilio spat.

“I haven’t sir I swear!” The man was begging for his life.

“I don’t like snakes.” Emilio raised his gun and shot the man point blank.

You couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. A strong hand was quick to grip your chin.

“Flinching is a sign of weakness. I can’t have a pet that is weak.” His grip tightened “Are you weak?”

“No sir.” You reassured.

“Good.”

Working with the BAU had been going well, Hotch had truly been incredible. He’d encouraged you to share your thoughts and theories while on cases. He also reminded you to use your coping strategies when the cases became particularly overwhelming.

Like today for example. The team was working on a case that was taking a toll on you, mentally and emotionally. Women were being kidnapped then brutally tortured and left for dead in the street. It was becoming increasingly difficult to detach yourself from what these women must’ve been feeling.

Hotch was quick to notice the change in your demeanor and he made it a point to assign you with Spencer at the precinct. You were tightening up the victimology while Spencer worked on the geographical profile. You had come to the conclusion that the unsub was targeting victims primarily on their looks, they had all been of similar height, had same color hair and eyes. Worse than that…they all kind of looked like you. The sound of Derek and Emily approaching made your stomach sink. Spencer had clearly picked up on your anxiety since you’d been with the BAU, but the others, not so much.

“Hey guys, what did you find out?” Emily inquired.

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the geographical profile. This area right here…” Spencer gesture to the map covering the screen “this is his comfort zone, all the abductions and dumpsites fall within this five-block radius.”

“What about you new girl?” Derek nudged you gently.

“I looked into all the victims, and they all were approximately the same height and build, same color hair and eyes. I spoke to Penelope; she confirmed that all of the women frequented the same coffee shop.” You explained.

Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all entered just in time to hear Derek confirm your thoughts…which led to a suggestion that made your heart sink.

“Y/n these girls all kind of look like you...” Derek walks over to where their pictures are pinned up to the board. “Maybe we should send you to the coffee shop undercover. It could help us find this guy.”

You heart was pounding, causing a loud whooshing sound to drown out your hearing. You closed your fists and dug your nails into your palms. You could feel the sweat breaking out along your forehead.

In and out…deep breaths. You reminded yourself of the coping strategies you’d come up with for instances like this. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

“Absolutely not!” Hotch commanded, shaking you from your thoughts while simultaneously distracting the others from your very obvious panic attack.

“Hotch man come on! She fits the victimology perfectly; it could end this case if she could catch his attention.” Derek argued.

“It’s not up for discussion. I will not send a new agent undercover, not until she is more comfortable on this team. Undercover ops like that require a significant level of trust, one that she may not have yet.” Hotch shut Derek down.

“We know he must go to this coffee shop; JJ and I could go in and watch. Keep an eye out for a man acting suspicious.” Emily suggested.

“Good, first thing tomorrow.” Hotch said before dismissing the team for the evening.

“Sir, is it safe to be talking about this…with her here?”

“Are you questioning me?” Emilio sneered. “My pet is well behaved. I wouldn’t have her here if I thought otherwise. Who are you to question my decisions?” His voice raised.

“I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I just wasn’t sure.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now I’ll ask again. What is the update on the shipment?” Emilio demanded.

“There are going to be three crates in the shipping container. The boat is set to anchor Friday at midnight.”

“And everything we were promised will be there?” Emilio asked.

“Well, not the girls. This shipment is just the weapons.”

“Excuse me?” Emilio’s expression turned sinister.

You were knelt by his desk like always. This conversation had been one you were banking on; it was hopefully going to allow your team to pick him and his associates up. Only, this conversation had taken a turn that you weren’t expecting. His shipments thus far had only contained drugs and weapons, so why was he asking about girls?

“I was assured that everything would be included. How fucking hard is it to follow orders?” Emilio shouted, his fist slamming onto his desk.

You sat still, silently taking in the situation. That night you’d check in with your team and fill them in on the new information. You just needed to get the logistics of when the second shipment would arrive, and honestly, you were scared Emilio would kill this guy before you got that information.

“I know boss. They told me that the girls would be here soon. There was an issue getting paperwork for some of them. But it should all be worked out now.”

“I need a date and time. By the end of the day. Otherwise, you’re done.” Emilio hissed. He then brushed his hand over your head. “C’mon pet, let’s go to bed. And you, I’ll be expecting your call.”

Going to bed with Emilio had initially been the worst part of this assignment. Thankfully he’d had you STD tested which meant you were both clean, and he’d ensured you received birth control shots. The sex had surprised you; you had expected it to be rough and painful but, it had been soft and gentle. Emilio whispered sweet nothings to you, and he held you close, and he’d carefully bathe you afterwards.

It may be sick and twisted…but it didn’t bother you, having sex with him.

A light knock at your door had startled you. You made your way over to check the peephole, and there he was waiting patiently.

“Hotch, is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Morgan was out of line suggesting we send you in.”

“It’s okay, really. He doesn’t know any better.”

Hotch gave you a sympathetic look. You could tell he was doing everything in his power not to profile you. You appreciated his effort, and it truly was endearing. Around Hotch, you’d started to feel more comfortable around him and his consistent care of you and your mental health had been the thing that drew you in. He cared so much, and it meant the world to you.

“You seemed nervous earlier, does that have to do with the undercover assignment you worked?”

“Yes.” You sighed.

In the last two months of being with the BAU, you and Hotch had been teetering this fine line of coworkers and more. It wasn’t necessarily leaning toward something romantic, at least that’s what you were both trying to convince yourselves of but, it had definitely become a friendship. Hotch had allowed you a safe space in which you were starting to feel like yourself again. He had never pushed you for information about your past and he continuously checked in with you to make sure you were comfortable and okay. More recently though, as things like what happened today occurred, you have felt like maybe you should tell Hotch a little more about what you endured.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I am here for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to tell me anything! But if you should choose, I’d listen.” Hotch admitted.

“I was sent in undercover to investigate Emilio Alvatorre…” You began.

“Emilio Alvatorre? He was one of FBI’s most wanted! Lucrative arms dealer, importing drugs…I heard he was ultimately brought down for sex trafficking.” Hotch was stunned.

“Yeah, that was me. Emilio took part in a certain lifestyle; he is a dominant and he was seeking a new submissive…and I guess I fit the bill. He essentially owned me, and he referred to me as his pet. It was my job to follow his orders blindly, and I did.”

“What was it like?” Hotch questioned.

“Well…

“Good morning pet.” Emilio purred pressing a kiss right below your ear.

“Mmm, good morning sir. Can I make you breakfast?” You offered.

“No darling, the cook will prepare our meal. I think it is sweet you still ask.” His kisses travelled down your neck.

“Do you have meetings today?” You inquired.

“Today is all about you pet. We are going to get you some new clothes, shoes, and maybe a new necklace. I want to spoil you today! We are celebrating!” Emilio gushed.

It was the moments like this that fucked with your mind the most. Emilio could be so kind and gentle, he wanted to take care of you and in the time you’d been with him, it had been increasingly easier to let him. But then there were moments when he turned dark…the other side of him came to light and you couldn’t help but question your mind.

“Boss…” Emilio’s associate barged into the office, only to find you bent over his desk while he pounded into you from behind.

“Not now!” Emilio growled.

“But boss!” This guy really couldn’t take the hint.

Emilio wasn’t one who took well to being interrupted, in any aspect of his life. So, when this associate decided what he had to say was more important than Emilio’s time…you knew it would be bad.

Emilio’s hips never faltered, not upon the initial interruption and certainly not when he leaned to the side, grabbed his gun, and shot the man standing in the doorway. You pinched your eyes shut, knowing better than to react to the horrific sight before you. Emilio continued thrusting, his grunts becoming more erratic, and when he finally finished, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Go run a hot bath. Get in and wait for me. I need to go see about this issue and get this cleaned up.” Emilio stated as he assisted you in standing upright.

“Yes sir.”

“It was really hard for me to deal with the two sides of him. I became confused and my mind was so foggy as to whether or not he was truly awful. And I know that so much of that is the manipulation of being his submissive, but I was with him for a year, it was easy to forget what things had been like before Emilio.” You trailed off.

“I can’t even imagine all the things you must’ve seen and gone through in that time. I can understand why you weren’t sure about joining the BAU initially…but I am really glad you did.” Hotch expressed, placing his hand atop your own.

“I’m glad I did too.”

The next morning Emily and JJ were sent into the coffee shop that all the victims frequented, and they couldn’t track the unsub. Either he was far too subtle, or he hadn’t shown up. The team was currently in the precinct trying to figure out the next steps, when Derek suggested it again.

“I still think y/n should go undercover, it’s our best bet in finding this guy. What do you say new girl?”

You were taken aback; your mind was screaming at you to decline. You weren’t ready for this, going undercover, blindly following team orders. It’s for the greater good though, isn’t it?

“I could do that.”

“Morgan, I already said it’s not happening. She isn’t ready.” Hotch commanded.

“Hotch, we have all had to go undercover. There is no reason that she can’t go into the coffee shop and order a freaking latte. We will all be there to keep her safe, just like any other case!” Morgan was practically shouting.

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“Y/n you don’t have to do this. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” Hotch was obviously trying to profile you based on his expression.

“I’m okay. I’ll do it.”

You were ordering a coffee, meanwhile Spencer was sitting in the back of the café reading a book and Rossi was in line, about three patrons behind you. Hotch insisted on sitting at a table just outside the entrance to keep a close eye on everyone coming and going. JJ, Derek, and Emily were all in the surveillance van parked across the street, waiting for the signal.

After you received your coffee, you found a seat at an empty table. It wasn’t long before a man approached you. He was tall and clearly strong; he had a very sinister aura that gave you the chills.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Oh, sure.” You agreed.

The man sat, but only after he moved the chair closer to you. He was talking to you, but you were having a hard time listening. You were silently begging the guys to come to help and get him away from you.

“You know, you’re really pretty. Why don’t we get out of here? We could go get lunch.” The man suggested.

“Oh, I’m not sure I should.”

“C’mon, be a good girl and get up.” His tone became more aggressive.

You stood up without a second thought, much to the unsub’s delight. He grabbed your arm in a bruising grip and began leading you out of the café.

“They’re on the move. Why is she going with him? This wasn’t the plan.” Derek exclaimed.

Hotch’s demeanor instantly changed. After you opened up to him about your previous assignment, he understood now why you had seemingly always followed orders willingly, only your willingness had been conditioned. Instilled in you through the manipulation of a very dangerous man.

“I got it.” Hotch

Hotch stood up and turned abruptly, purposefully plowing into you and the unsub. He made a move that shifted you away from the unsub and placed himself between you.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Hotch feigned innocence.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Watch where you’re going asshole. Let’s get out of here.” The unsub reached for your arm once more.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“You want to bet?” he said, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at your head.

You didn’t flinch, in fact you didn’t move a muscle. All the while everyone else sprung into action. Hotch tried to talk him down while the rest of the team surrounded him on all sides. You had stood there completely disassociated while this man threatened your life and ultimately met his untimely end via Emily’s weapon.

“Y/n would you please come to my office?” Hotch requested.

You silently followed Hotch to his office. You were wringing your hands, hoping that he wouldn’t reprimand you for your behavior today. You couldn’t handle disappointing people.

“You didn’t even flinch. You had a gun pointed at you and you didn’t even blink. You also willingly left the café with him, which was not a part of the plan we had discussed.” Hotch stated, his tone calm.

“I’m sorry Hotch. He told me to get up and I just…I wasn’t sure what to do. I know we needed to catch the guy.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hotch admitted. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. I also don’t want you to agree to do things simply because someone tells you to. Like agreeing to go undercover.”

“I don’t know how to do that. Disagree I mean. I’m not sure I have that in me anymore.” You did everything in your power to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/n I’m not disappointed. I do think that it is very important you continue to work with your therapist.”

“I will.”

“…and I just stood there.”

“Y/n you we conditioned for over a year to sit still when any sort of firearm was shot, you watched people die right in front of you. You were covered in their blood and forced to remain kneeling until instructed otherwise. I can’t say I am entirely surprised that you didn’t react to having a weapon pointed at you. What does surprise me though was that you agreed to going undercover.” Sylvia finished.

“I knew it was our best option to finding this unsub. I fit the victimology, and I was able to fish him out. It was a no-brainer.” You shrugged.

“Now that sound like someone making a rational decision.” Sylvia smirked.

“Yeah well, after the case Hotch called me out and I felt like a child being scolded. I could barely hold back tears.”

“Why do you think that is?” She pressed.

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m afraid of not being good enough and worse, disappointing him.”

“The only person you should be worried about disappointing is yourself. Y/n you have made huge strides in the last five months and as long as you stay true to yourself, you will continue to do so.”

The months went on, as did the cases and your therapy sessions. Oddly enough, you had started to feel more like yourself. Things with the BAU have started to become easy, you were opening up little by little to the others and you were getting better at making your own decisions.

Hotch had also noticed the change. It had warmed his heart to see you really coming into your own, to really get to know the real you. Which had only strengthened his feelings toward you, causing him to work extra hard to shove them down. Rossi knew simply from the look Hotch gave you, but that’s a story for another time.

The team had been working back-to-back cases all over the country for the last few weeks. It had been exhausting and the team were getting to a point where everyone was snippy. Lack of sleep had led to a horrible lack of patience, and the local officers weren’t making matters any better.

“What if we were wrong, I think the unsub is a woman. I mean look at the attention to detail in the clean up and at how the bodies were presented.” You offered.

“Y/n could be right; a woman would take the time to be precise and it would explain the…”

Before Spencer could finish his thought, Officer Riley decided to provide his own theories.

“There is no way it is a woman. They don’t have the courage to take care of people like this. That’s why the statistic proves that the unsub is a man.”

“With all due respect, women are just as capable of murder as men, and when they do it they are often far more meticulous which is why that fits better here.” You explained.

“Well, with all due respect ma’am, I’ve been doing this job longer than you could walk.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t bother hiding your surprise.

“All I’m saying sweetheart, is that perhaps you’d be better off getting us some coffee.” Officer Riley sneered.

“Last time I checked, I’m the one working for the FBI and not some Podunk little police station in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. So how about you back off and let us finish our…”

“Y/N TAKE A SEAT.” Hotch demanded.

Despite your shock at Hotch’s tone toward you, you took a seat without hesitation.

“Officer Riley, please let my agents do their work. We have much more important things to be doing than arguing about the duties of a woman.” Hotch chided.

“Well, you clearly agree with me given the fact that you gave her an order. If you’d been on her side you’d have probably told me off.” Riley turned to you, “and you clearly do know how to listen to a man in charge. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

With that, Riley made his leave with a low chuckle, and you sat there considering what had just happened. Hotch had commanded you to sit down knowing full well you’d comply, that way he could deal with Riley without you continuing to tell him off. He used what he knew about you against you, despite all the conversations you’ve had with him. Despite him knowing full well your fear of blindly following orders.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood up and walked out, heading straight for the precinct exit.

“Y/n wait!” Hotch followed you.

As you landed on the sidewalk just upon the exit, Hotch’s had made its way around your upper left arm in a desperate attempt to slow you down and hear him out. Only you were in no mood to listen to him or anyone else right now. All you felt was the sense of betrayal blooming in your chest.

As he swung you back around to face him, you did something that shocked even you. You right arm followed around, landing a harsh slap to Hotch’s cheek. Your breathing was ragged, a look of surprise painting your features…a look of guilt flooding Hotch’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” You paused.

“No, Y/n I am so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Hotch pleaded.

“I need to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” With that you left, calling a taxi, and heading back to the hotel.

“YOU STUPID BITCH! HOW COULD YOU?” Emilio Screamed, lunging toward you.

“Emilio I didn’t, I just…I”

Emilio wrapped his hand around your throat, harshly choking you as SWAT swarmed the shipyard. They quickly made their way to you, removing Emilio from his position over you. As they pulled him away you couldn’t help but watch him.

“Kneel Pet!” Emilio commanded.

You couldn't help but follow his order. Immediately dropping to your knees, resting your hands atop your thighs and letting your gaze fall to the ground.

“I will always own you! You will always be my pet, perfectly broken in!” Emilio hollered as they put him in the back of a vehicle.

“Y/n you’re okay, lets get you up and checked out.” Your unit commander suggested.

Only you didn’t move. You couldn’t get up, not without his permission.

That night, the paramedics had to sedate you to get you into an ambulance. And after that you were placed in a psychiatric facility for 30 days to help undo the brainwashing you’d endured.

“Sylvia, I slapped him. My boss, I slapped him right in the face!”

“Y/n you reacted to a situation and based on what you just explained to me, it seems like he knew he was in the wrong. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself and honestly, you should talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe tell him how you feel.” Sylvia suggested.

You spent the afternoon practicing what to say to Hotch, Spencer had been texting you updates of that case as it progressed. He’d let you know that they caught the unsub and were headed back to the hotel. So, as you opened your door to make your way to his room, you came face-to-face with the man himself.

“Hotch.” You gasped.

“Y/n can we talk?”

You moved aside to allow him access to your room. You couldn’t help but feel nervous about the conversation that was to come.

“Hotch, I am so sorry for slapping you! I was just-”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Y/n I am so sorry, I heard you going off on Riley and I knew that if you kept talking he’d report you and I’d be forced to suspend you, only I hadn’t considered the effect that me demanding you take a seat would have on you. I need you to know it was not my intention to take advantage of you like that and even worse, I shouldn’t have put my hand on you the way I did. You had every right to slap me.” Hotch explained.

“You were trying to protect me?”

“Riley had made threats of reporting our staff for going against orders of the precinct. I knew that he’d report you for your behavior, despite him clearly being in the wrong. I didn’t want to suspend you.”

“I didn’t realize. But Hotch telling me to take a seat, in the tone you did, it felt like I was right back there. Following orders without thinking. With you, I can’t explain it, I would do anything you asked me to and that terrifies me. My feelings for you only add to that need to do anything you say, to do anything to please you. I can’t help it.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Aaron! Is that all you took from what I just said?”

“Please say that again.” He whispered.

“Aaron.”

He let his eyes close and took a deep breath. You could tell he was holding back and though part of you was begging you to walk away, the other was telling you to jump in. You thought about what Sylvia would say, and you couldn’t help but release a breathy laugh, knowing full well that she would tell you that only you can make the right decision, and it is okay to trust yourself.

“Aaron, I am terrified…and it is going to take me some time to fully trust myself again, but I really like you and if you’re up for it, I’d like to give this a shot. Unless you don’t feel the same way, then please ignore what I just said an-”

Aaron pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. One that told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m scared too, but I want to try this Y/n. I know that you’re still working to find yourself, I am willing to wait if that is what you need, but I am also willing to be by your side every step of the way.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

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dipperscavern · 5 months ago

Note

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

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saltandburnheathens · 8 months ago

Text

Good morning Miss Winnie.

Part II

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

You've just given birth to Dean's baby and are a enjoying a quiet family moment in the days afterwards.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

The bunker was quiet first thing in the morning except for the usual hum of the circulation fans. You’d been there so long that they barely registered anymore, and you were extremely thankful that the consistent noise wasn’t a problem for the baby. That would have been a horror show. Trying to navigate parenthood with a baby awoken by the simplest of sounds.

You shuddered at the thought.

Life was always loud when you lived with Dean Winchester and his posse of colour characters. Between unexpected visitors and the brothers coming and going at odd hours, there was something new every day and often that new wasn’t good.

But in that moment things were perfect. The monsters outside didn’t exist and you were a regular mom with a new baby and a husband who loved you. His bother Sam and best friend Castiel were an added bonus, the former serving as an unexpected asset when both you and Dean needed some rest.

You crept carefully out of bed, your body still feeling weak, and quietly crossed to the crib by the wall. A set of hazel eyes stared up at you and your heart melted.

“Good morning Miss Winnie.” You cooed, “Let’s get you up and at ‘em before you wake daddy.”

You heard a small scoff followed by the shuffling of blankets.

“Winnie?” Dean asked with a sleep-laden voice, “We ain’t calling her Winnie, sweetheart. I’ll accept those new-agey-hippy-names like Kendell and Kloe with a K before I’ll take Winnie.”

“I’m just calling her that until we choose a name.” You laughed, lifting the little girl up into your arms, her head coming to rest on your chest, “And Winnie is short for Winchester in case you hadn’t pieced that together.”

“I don’t care if it’s short for ‘daddy’s-little-angel’, it ain’t happening.”

“I’ll cross that off my list then shall I?” You sat back on the bed, Dean coming up to nest beside you and his eyes immediately going to the baby in your arms.

He smiled, creases forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not a Winnie, are ya’ princess?” In that voice he seemed to only have adapted five days ago after the birth of your daughter; that voice reserved for her.

“Maybe not. What about Meghan?” You suggest.

“Oh nope. No can do. Knew a Meg once. Demon.”

You nodded knowingly. No one wanted to name their child after a monster.

“Stevie?” Dean carried on, his eyes still fixed on the baby.

“Like Stevie Nicks?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing it. Samatha?”

“Already got one Sam in this bunker and that’s more than enough. Alice?”

“Can’t do it. All I’ll keep hearing is ‘who the fuck is Alice’, and I don’t want my kid to be subjected to that for the rest of their life.”

You both laughed, interrupted only by the whine building in the little one’s chest. You quickly jumped to action and proceeded to the morning routine you’d been adjusting to since getting back home. Dean followed you, rubbing at his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve had hangovers that made me feel quite as bad as waking up five times at night.” He yawned.

You handed him a dirty diaper and smiled as he grimaced.

“You can go back to bed if you want. I can manage by myself.”

“Sweetheart, you just damn near broke your pelvis giving birth to my kid a few days ago. I’m in this from start to finish, and if that means running on caffeine and a prayer, then I’m game. Even for the diapers.”

Dean rummaged through the first drawer of their dresser and pulled out a small onesie covered in colourful dinosaurs. He held it up in front of him and smiled.

“It’s hard to believe how small she is, huh?”

“She didn’t feel so small coming out of me.” You quipped, taking the clothing from him to finally cover the squirming child on the changer, “I’m pretty sure my vagina will never be the same.”

“That’s blasphemy.” Dean gasped playfully, “But seriously, baby, the doctor said that it’ll take a few weeks before you start to feel normal.”

“Normal is subjective when you’re postpartum.”

Holding his baby tight to his chest, Dean lent down and kissed you softly on the lips. His green eyes fluttered up to meet yours.

“Let’s face it, ain’t nothing normal about either of us in the first place.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dad!dean winchester #dad!dean

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heartpascal · 9 months ago

Text

i was born waiting

▹— joel miller x daughter!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him?

▹— a/n: hi! i started writing this september ‘23, so it has. it’s been a WHILE. so if this seems jumpy / not consistent then that is why! sorry!!! i have done my best!!!

▹— warnings: canon-typical violence and themes, weapons, parental death, witnessing parental death, aka insane amounts of trauma, death in general, she/her pronouns, reader is biologically related to joel but no mentions of appearance, no mention of her bio mother’s appearance either, fantasising about being dead (sorry), all hurt zero comfort, attempted murder, unrealistic expectations of someone you never met — please let me know if ive missed anything!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being @hqkon

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There are certain things from your childhood that you can remember vividly. Though, really, childhood is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? It’s hard to find the right word to encompass the way you had grown up, because you didn’t have much of a chance to actually grow.

From the moment you had been born, your life was a battle of staying alive to see another day.

That’s not to say that your mother didn’t do her best for you, obviously. But it was hard to raise a child as a child in the midst of a global apocalypse. You were bound to end up the way you did — moulded and hardened by the world around you, by having to pick up a gun at seven years old and use it to protect your mother. By never putting that gun back down.

For the past few years, you had known your mother was suffering. The world had been anything but kind to her, and age was hitting her harder than she had expected. More than the physical aspect, you knew it had been destroying her, the fact that you were now the one protecting her and not the other way around.

But what choice did you have? Her aging body had left her fragile, prone to falling and breaking even more frail bones. You could see the strain on her muscles, as they slowly decayed and shrunk, until they were barely there at all. You couldn’t let her carry the burden for you anymore, because you knew her body couldn’t handle it.

You had been preparing yourself for that moment, though. Making sure that you were ready, that you were strong enough for the both of you, strong enough to shoulder the burden she had been carrying for years.

When you were growing up, your mother had told you tales of your father.

She had told you all about how strong he had been, how he had been the best man she had ever known. She told you how he had cared for his daughter before you, how he had been the best father to that girl. When you were old enough to comprehend these things, you’d asked what had happened to him. “Is dad dead?” You had asked her, watching the way her face fell.

“I don’t know, honey. I hope not.” She had responded, smiling sadly at you, and patting her hand against your cheek.

It was hard for you to let go of that.

The uncertainty had haunted you for the rest of your life since that very moment, leaving you wondering for hours at a time where he could possibly be, why he would ever leave your mother to carry this responsibility alone. And in your more selfish moments, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t here to care for you as he had his daughter before you.

For a long time, you had convinced yourself that he was dead, despite what your mother hoped. And sure, you felt that loss, something like mourning weighing you down, but it was the only way you felt you could accept his absence. He had to be dead, because otherwise, why wasn’t he here?

But as you grew up, getting taller, stronger, you felt like you could rationalise his absence even if he wasn’t dead. After all, the apocalypse wasn’t exactly family friendly. You figured that if your mother didn’t know whether or not your dad was alive, that the same could go for him. He might just think that you and your mom died, years ago. After all, how many pregnant women survived the end of the world?

You have a feeling that the answer would have to be not many.

So, really, you and your mother being alive by now was nothing short of a miracle. It was a testament to your mother’s strength, her ability. She had succeeded where so many others had failed, and she had managed to keep both herself and you alive.

It’s a bitter kind of irony that you can’t do the same.

The last dredges of autumn fall away, leading into the coldest and harshest part of the year. Winter is hard — it’s full to the brim with fresh Infected, the ones not yet frozen solid, and resources are more scarce than ever. And this winter feels like something tangible, something which sends unending waves of dread through you.

Your mother gets weaker by the day, spending more time resting than moving, and you spend as much time as you can keeping her warm, finding food and water and pain relief for her broken arm that didn’t heal right. She’s exhausted, you can see it in her face, in her every movement. And you’re pretty sure it’s not just from the lack of rest. She watches you with dulled eyes, something like heartbreak reflecting in them.

For a long time, you pretend not to notice.

You pretend that you don’t see the way she lags behind, just watching you move away from her with speed she can’t quite manage any longer. You pretend that you don’t see the way she hesitates before taking her painkillers, or her food, or the last sip of water.

This year, the winter brings something worse than the cold. A bug, spreading across the state in a way that was familiar to so many. Not quite the Infection, but still able to take out people with ease.

When your mother catches it, you physically felt your heart clench in your chest. You felt it squeezing all of the blood around your body so quickly that you became dizzy with it. There’s a panic so deep that you can’t climb your way out of it. For days, weeks, you’re certain that you’ve lost her. That after everything, everything you’ve done, everything the two of you have been through, a cold would be the end of it all.

But then, she gets better.

The little strength she had before the sickness returns to her, bringing some colour back to her skin, some ease back to her breathing.

Religion wasn’t a thing in the apocalypse. Not really. But if you had believed in God, you would’ve thanked every one that might’ve existed for giving you this. This miracle. This small mercy.

The two of you are in an abandoned barn when it happens.

You’re dozing away, not quite asleep, but not awake either, when you hear the sound of old hay crunching underneath boots. If you weren’t so familiar with the lightness of your mother’s footsteps, you might’ve passed it off as her wandering. But these boots are heavy. They’re purposeful.

The gun in your hand means nothing when you jerk upwards, eyes snapping open and squinting through the light let into the barn by the rising winter sun. It’s an image that has since been ingrained into the back of your skull, replaying each time you close your eyes.

There, right in front of you, is your mother.

Behind her, a man, a gun pressed to the back of her skull.

Your stomach lurched suddenly in that moment, the small rationed dinner you had before dozing off trying to rise to the back of your throat, trying to race the rapid beating of your heart to see which would kill you first.

“Put down the gun.” He said, voice cold, throat dry from the winter air. The sound of his voice is printed in the base of your brain, echoing every time things around you still, go quiet.

He could be bluffing, you thought in the moment. His gun could be unloaded. It didn’t take you long to notice that the safety was off, but in those few moments, he had pressed the end of it harder into your mother’s head. You dropped the gun to the floor without another moment of thought.

You were nauseous, waiting to wake up, to realise this was all some twisted nightmare.

But you could see a look in your mother’s eyes. Acceptance. Defeat. It was almost familiar to you, so closely related to the look she had been giving you for months.

All this time, she had just been waiting to die. Waiting for something to come along and kill her off, to free you from having to take care of her. She knew that if it was up to you, that you would look after her for the rest of your goddamn life. If she lived any longer, she might just live long enough to see you die.

“Slide it over.”

You barely registered the cold pinch of metal against your palm as you pushed the gun away from you, sending it skittering over the rough ground and into the side of an old hay bale.

“Now your pack.”

There was a numbness to you as you gripped the backpack you had been leaning against, and chucked it towards where he stood behind your mother. It hit the front of his boot, but his eyes didn’t stray from where he stared at you.

“Turn around.”

You stared at him, teeth gritted together.

“No.”

There was a beat where both him and your mother just watched you. And then the surprise flickered across his face, apparently not expecting any resistance from you.

“Turn. Around.” He told you, firmer this time.

“No.”

“Okay then,” He relented, after a moment of consideration. His eyes drifted down towards your mother, who stared forwards at you. “This your daughter?” He asked, jerking his head towards you despite knowing your mother couldn’t see the movement.

“Yes, she is,” Your mother said, voice shaking, her breath clouding in front of her face as it reached the cold air. “Please, just let her be.”

He hummed, dropping his free hand down to rest heavily on your mother’s shoulder, his fingers clamping around it and not helping the way she trembled.

“So, your momma, huh?” He asked you, a smirk drawing up his face, showing smile lines around his murky blue eyes. His hair rustled in the wind, a piece falling down across his forehead. He stared at you, and you stared at him, not daring to say a word, still hoping that this whole thing was a dream. Muscles in his cheek twitched, pulling his skin taut and showing a scar across his left cheekbone. “Good.”

There was a moment where the sound didn’t register. A moment where you didn’t even realise it was your mother when the body slumped forwards. A mere moment where you didn’t think about it being her blood that splattered across your face.

The moments after that though, become blurry, hazed over, and you’re not sure it actually ever hit you that the body before you was your mother.

You’ve always had a hard time remembering that bodies were once people, that they once had lives and loved ones and thoughts and feelings. That they weren’t just bodies. So seeing her like that, as a body, not her, was wrong on so many levels. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did.

You heard the second gunshot, just a moment later, followed by a snickering laugh that you would never forget, before the pain bloomed in you.

It was buried by the shock, the complete disbelief, and you only felt the pain for mere seconds.

His gun — the one that killed your mother — was whacked across the side of your head a moment after, and that was the end of that.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Three months passed by, judging by the way the seasons turned, and you were on your own.

It was a strange feeling, really. Throughout the entirety of your life, you had never actually been alone. At least, not really. Your mother was always a small ways away, a mere shout from running to you. There had never been any true distance between the two of you until that day.

A sort of ache claws your throat each day, when you realise that it’s easier like this.

The only back you have to watch is your own, the only life you have to worry about belongs to you, and you have nothing to lose in this world. There was no terrible outcome if you were caught. Nobody else would be hurt, or suffer because of it. And you’re less likely to be caught now, when you don’t have your mother slowing you down. You don’t have to stop for the frequent rest breaks she needed, you can try to outrun Infected without worrying about someone lagging behind, and you only have yourself to feed.

If your mother had known how much easier survival was when alone, you hope that she would’ve abandoned you at birth. Because perhaps, without the burden of you upon her shoulders, she wouldn’t have fallen apart so quickly.

Sometimes, you like to think of a world where she was spared all of this. Never pregnant with you, for a start. So when the infection broke out, she would’ve only had herself to worry about. You think that maybe, one day, she would’ve been able to reunite with your father. If she hadn’t been carrying a child, she would’ve been able to manage the journey to where she believed him to be. You look at the picture that had been in the pocket of her coat for your whole life, the papers folded and clipped to the back of it, one word underlined: Boston.

You had reached a store in the weeks after that day, and when you found a map, it wasn’t difficult to notice that the direction the two of you had been heading in was to that very city.

It’s a long shot. More than a long shot, really, but you find yourself continuing in that direction regardless. You don’t know what you hope to find in Boston, whether it was your dad, or the man who had killed your mother, or perhaps just somewhere to take shelter for a while. You try not to hope for anything. You try not to focus on the fact that you might not even make it that far.

It keeps you up for days.

The uncertainty of it. The unknown. The fact that you’re walking your way to a city you know nothing about, almost certain that your mother’s killer was already there, and more than that, consumed by a fever that might kill you regardless of the where the journey took you.

The only sleep you get results in fever dreams, rippling, warping images that make your perception falter, feeling all too real until you notice that it’s not. And when you do wake up from them, it’s as if you haven’t slept at all. An exhaustion weighs heavily upon you, and your shoulders hunch over with it. There’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get rid of that endless feeling.

You hope—or wish, maybe— that if you reach Boston, the journey there will have tired you out so much that your body will have no choice but to rest. It’s a distant thought in your mind, though. You’re almost certain you won’t make it that far, because if the fever doesn’t get you, surely the Infected will.

It’s not as though you’re trying to get killed. But there is a kind of peace that comes with the thought. There’s an idea of rest behind it, hiding within the shadowy depths that make you scared. Would not having to fight in order to survive really be so terrible? You have this image in mind, of a never ending blackness, a void, somewhere that your thoughts and worries can just fizzle away. The small part of your fever-fried brain that has retained its rationality reminds you of the unknown. It reminds you that death could be worse than this.

You don’t like the thought. Not after that day. It’s a shuddering feeling, wondering if your mother is in some kind of unreachable hell.

By the time you’re even close to Boston, a few hours out at most, you’re out of ammo in the gun you’d found along the way. Out of food rations. No knife, no resources. You’re barely standing on two legs, kept up by the adrenaline, the knowledge alone that you’re this close.

When the tall walls of the QZ finally come into view, you start to feel some amount of hope. Which is a dangerous thing, but especially in a situation as dire as your own. You couldn’t afford any adrenaline fading, couldn’t afford to lose your cautious nature. You couldn’t make a mistake. One wrong move, one slight misstep, and you’d be as dead as your mother. Or worse, infected. Though this close to a QZ, you had some amount of relief at the knowledge that they should’ve cleared out any nearby infected. Runners, and clickers alike.

Your steps don’t falter for a moment. Partly because of your worry about the fever taking you out, but mostly because you’re certain that the FEDRA guards on watch on top of the wall will have spotted you, and you don’t want them to think you’re Infected, just because of your sickly appearance, and shoot on sight. Though, with FEDRA’s track record, it wouldn’t surprise you if they just shot you down regardless.

For a while, you’re not sure if you’re even awake, or if perhaps you were stuck in yet another fever dream. Everything felt so real and so not real simultaneously, it felt impossible to believe that you had actually made it.

Soldiers met you on your approach, calling out for you to get on the ground with your hands up. You called back some sort of response as you did so, practically collapsing to your knees and squeezing your eyes shut at the pain that followed. But despite all of it, despite the pain and the rough hands that grabbed you and pulled you forwards, through the gates and straight into a building, you had made it to Boston.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was maybe three weeks into being a resident of the Boston QZ that you caught wind of him for the first time. Or, at the very least, somebody who might be him. You didn’t know how common the surname Miller was, being a child of the apocalypse, but you kind of hoped the answer was uncommon.

“Goddamn Miller, again.” A man had muttered as you walked through the trading market. You paused almost instantly, pretending to peruse the feeble amount of clothes a woman had to trade. “Said we gotta go through him and Tess if we want anything, as if we gotta listen to them.” He practically spat out, glaring around as he spoke to the woman beside him.

“They’re the most well established smugglers in the whole goddamn QZ. Don’t have to tell you how, do I?” She asked, sounding more annoyed with her companion than she was with whoever Miller and Tess were. “Joel is as nasty as they come, Darren. Don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

Your heart practically stuttered to a stop in your chest, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Could there be another Joel Miller? One who wasn’t your father? Sure, it was possible. Plausible, even, considering the fact that you had absolutely no idea if he was here. Not any concrete idea, anyway. Your mother had believed as much, but who was to say she was right?

Besides, whoever this Joel Miller was didn’t sound like the man your mother had told you about. As nasty as they come didn’t have any relation to the heroic and kind and amazing father and man your mother always spoke about. Though, you knew as well as anyone what the apocalypse could do to people.

Darren didn’t say anything else to his companion. So, after a few more moments, you continued on your way, making the journey to the tiny box apartment that FEDRA had elected to you.

But even as you got there, sitting down on the poor excuse of a mattress, you couldn’t shake the conversation out of your mind. After everything you had been through to get here, what was it all for? Could you really make this journey and just never try to find Joel Miller? Your father? You could still remember the anxiety that had come when you first arrived, when you were strapped into a chair and scanned for the fungus that had taken over so many. You didn’t know what you were more scared of: the idea that it would flash red, and you’d be killed, or the idea that it would be clear, and you’d be sent out into the QZ, where you may just find the other half of your DNA.

You don’t even know if you want to find out anything about him. Don’t know if you could face that, especially after losing your mother. That’s been the hardest thing since being here, since having your own place, the fact that you’ve gotten it all without her. It feels… empty. For your whole life, she had been there at your side, making every short stay at whatever accommodation you could find feel like home.

Plus, even if you did consider trying to find him, and if it was him those people were talking about, then who the hell was Tess? What if she got upset at your appearance, your claim as Joel Miller’s surviving child? You’re not sure you can lose another parent.

Sure — Joel Miller wasn’t exactly your dad, he couldn’t be classed as a parent in the way that your mother was, but if you never met him, that could’ve been for any number of reasons. He could be dead. He could’ve thought you and your mother were dead, all these years. You didn’t want to face a reality where you met him, and he wasn’t present for you and your mother because he didn’t want to be. You’d rather live your whole life thinking him six feet under, than know he was out there, and just didn’t care about you.

The more you think about it, the more certain you are that Boston was a mistake.

It would all be different if your mother was alive. If she had brought you here, if she had been the one to hear the chatter about Joel Miller, if she had been the one to seek him out. But she was dead, and the only living connection you had to Joel was, too. Hypothetically, if you did seek him out, you didn’t know enough about him to prove your claim as his child, and without your mother, how could you make him believe you?

They had been a family, once. They being Joel, your mother, and your deceased half sister. You’d heard the tale of how Joel and your mother had met, of how it took months for him to finally feel comfortable introducing her to his little girl. Hell, you had heard almost as much about Sarah as you had about Joel. Your mother had certainly adored his daughter, and you’re somewhat sure that they had planned to have you, despite Sarah already being a teenager.

You don’t want to have to mourn a family you had never actually had. Perhaps, Joel and Sarah were out there, living their lives certain that you and your mother were dead, just as you and your mother had done.

Not that any of this even mattered — you didn’t even know for sure if it was the same Joel Miller! And even if it was, it’s not like Boston QZ was small. There’s absolutely no chance you run into the man who might just be your dad. No way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You find someone else, before you hear anything more about Joel Miller, and it immediately sends the thought of your biological dad to the very back of your mind.

After all, it’s not every day you see the man who murdered your mother.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. You had guessed that this was the place he was heading, all those moons ago. But to actually see him, here, in the flesh, alive and well despite all of the pain and heartache and devastation he had caused you? It was surreal. You had to practically pinch your skin from your body to make yourself believe he was real.

And it only really hits you now, that this man killed your mother. You had been so focused on surviving, on living to see another day, on healing and moving and getting away from her body, buried in shallow dirt outside of some abandoned barn. You can vividly remember the strength it had taken to pry the frozen dirt from the ground.

Sure, you had felt the guilt over it, the guilt over the ease that came with surviving without her, guilt over your very existence, but you’re not sure you had ever actually grieved over her. Not sure if you had ever let yourself be sad, be angry, be anything about what had happened.

But now, seeing him, you feel… almost too much.

All of the rage and grief you had squashed in favour of surviving another day, all of the sadness and fear, all of it. It all comes rushing towards you at once, hitting you in the chest, winding you. You gasp for breath on the street, ducking away for a moment, gripping your chest like you could physically hold your heart steady.

When you look back out at the street, you see him as he nears the corner. Panic grips you at the thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, of failing to avenge your mother. You follow after him before you can think better of it.

It’s strangely easy. You fall back into the life of a hunter like it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever known — and maybe it is. You’re healed up, by now, or about as healed as anybody gets in this world, and your shoulder only bothers you when you move it too much. Even with that, you’re pretty sure that you could take the man on. Now that you’re not hazy with sleep, caught off guard, held back by any sort of earthly tether.

You’re strong. And despite FEDRA’s harsh reign, their dire consequences for rule-breaking, you have a switchblade stuffed into your shoe. You could do it. You could kill him.

There’s no question about it in your mind, especially as you follow him from a distance, and he remains none the wiser. He takes a left, and a moment later, so do you. He’s clueless. It’s almost painful that he was the one who managed to get the jump on you. How could you have let this man kill your mother?

He skids to a stop outside of a doorway, so you slide down the wall of the building opposite and listen. He pays you no mind as he knocks twice on the door.

“What d’you want, Colin?” The man who opened the door asked gruffly, seemingly inconvenienced by the man. He sounded tired, or out of it, maybe.

“I need the supply.” Colin answered, and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down the back of your neck. It echoed in your ears, the words he said that day. Good. Everything in you itched, like thousands of critters had dug into you and made a home scuttling around your insides. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to end his life, and you wanted to make it slow. Brutal. Painful. Even if it meant you were hung by FEDRA tomorrow morning. It’d be worth it.

The man at the door sighed, as if deeply bothered by getting Colin what he needed, and disappeared inside. He emerged a moment later, empty handed. “I’m all out. You’ll have to go across town tomorrow.” The man said flatly, saying nothing as Colin swore, before stepping away.

You ducked your head down as Colin passed, all too aware of the man in the doorway watching you suspiciously. After a moment, he sighed again, and retreated inside, slamming the door after himself. It took almost no time at all for you to push yourself back to your feet, and take off after the man who had left.

Despite your pounding footsteps against cracked concrete, he didn’t pay you any mind as you caught up to him. He seemed focused on getting to wherever it was that he was unknowingly leading you to, glancing up at the darkening sky every other step. FEDRA’s curfew would be coming into play soon enough.

To your disappointment, he walked into an apartment building, about three blocks away from your own. It seemed that, unless you were willing to risk being caught and stopped, today wasn’t the day you would be avenging your mother. You vowed that tomorrow you would do it. You would kill Colin. No matter what got in your way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

By the time curfew was lifted, you had been waiting by the exit of your building for an hour.

The switchblade in your shoe felt heavy with every step you took towards the home of your mother’s killer. It weighed almost as much as the picture in your pocket. All of it was heavy. But you acted as normally as you could manage, passing by patrolling FEDRA guards without them so much as glancing towards you.

You were waiting by his building when the door opened, when he stepped out, and headed determinedly in the opposite direction from which you had come. You followed without a moment of hesitation.

He made his way around town, trading with a few people on the side of the streets, handing them small wads of ration cards in favour of various items. Nothing dangerous, though. Not to you. He clearly was oblivious to your loitering figure, standing a few metres away, like some omen of death. Despite your shadow reaching for his shoes as the sun rose, he didn’t flinch.

It was irritating you, just how easy this was. You had been following the man for two days now, and he hadn’t even noticed. How had he gotten the drop on you? How had he managed to kill your mother? How had you allowed him the opportunity to do so?

There was nothing remotely special about him — no reason that he should have survived over your mother, no reason that he should have been granted mercy over the last twenty years. He didn’t deserve it. Not like your mother had. She had done the best she could, for years, for the only daughter in her care. And she had done it all alone. This man, Colin, he was alone, and he had no reason to hurt her. You were going to make sure he regretted it.

You loomed at the entrance of an alleyway as he walked down it, finally stopping at a dead end, leaning against the brick wall as if he was waiting for something. Or someone. You knew it wasn’t you he was waiting for, so you bided your time, cautious of someone happening upon the two of you. If they had business with him, they would care. If they didn’t, then nobody but FEDRA would care.

By the time you finally decided to move, almost an hour had passed, and Colin was facing away from you at the entrance of the alley, head pressed to the bricks.

It was strange, what the innate desire to hunt and kill could bring out in you, that it could make you move silently without thinking about it. It could make you reach for the blade in your shoe, without so much as a rustle of your clothes.

With a final glance back at the entrance of the alleyway, you grew impatient, and you attacked.

From an outside perspective, you probably looked like some kind of wild animal. You jumped at him, tackling him, pushing him sideways and landing on his back as his shoulder smacked the asphalt, and he howled in pain. It was like seeing a cheetah hunt an antelope, the way you bored down on him. If you could have widened your jaws, and ripped out his insides, you think you would have.

But without that ability, you could only press the cold metal blade to his throat, and feel him go still.

“Do you remember me?” You asked, voice flat and still, despite the way your heart felt as though it would beat out of your chest, and splatter down in front of his face. You were quieter than you had expected, too. You thought that the words would burst out of you, vicious and unending, but they were quiet. Calm.

Colin shook his head, as much as he could with the side of his face pressed to the ground, and a blade to the soft skin of his neck.

“Think about it.”

His eyes strained to try and get a look at you, and they widened as you leant sideways slightly, allowing him to gaze at your blank face. “Oh, shit,” He said, mouth fumbling around the words.

“Yeah, shit.” You repeated, waiting for satisfaction to seep into your chest cavity, waiting for the grief to fade away.

It didn’t.

Nothing changed, even as you pressed the blade closer to his throat, even as you watched his eyes dart back and forth, as you watched him try and formulate a plan to survive. “Listen, kid—” He started, throat bobbing against the knife, drawing the tiniest line of blood. You watched him bleed, and expected to feel more than numb.

He threw your weight backwards, sacrificing more skin on his throat to your knife. You went flying off of him, but you flung yourself forward faster than he could stagger up, and dug the knife into his calf as he tried to stand. His yell pierced the air, louder than any of the commotion yet, and likely drawing attention of people out on the street. You just hoped, distantly, that FEDRA wasn’t around.

His flesh and muscle moved as you pulled the blade free, and you didn’t flinch at the squelch of blood that left him alongside it.

Colin fell back to the floor, resulting in crawling along the asphalt without care for how the small stones cut into his palms, leaving streaks of blood. “You don’t gotta do this, man, chill out!” His voice had more emotion in it than it had back when he killed your mother, which was infuriating. “It wasn’t personal!” He insisted, crawling further as you got to your feet, prowling after him similarly to the wild animal you felt like.

You’d disagree with his statement, though.

He already had your pack, you had already relinquished your gun — the only thing you refused to do was turn so you could be executed. If you were going to be killed, you were going to look your murderer in the eye. Instead of that, though, Colin had decided to make it personal. He had decided to kill your mother, to spread her brains out on the ground in front of you, to cover you in her blood, rather than spare her. And then, worse, he had let you live.

That seemed pretty personal.

“You killed my mom.” You stated, getting closer as he turned so he was facing you, watching you get closer. “D’you remember what you said to me?”

He shook his head.

“You said good. You were glad that it was my mother. Admit it, Colin. Tell the world all about how not-personal it was.”

More than anything, you wanted to feel satisfaction for how badly he was trembling beneath you, for how scared you were making him. But you just didn’t. Fear wasn’t enough. Not for what this man had done to you.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He said, shaking, still shying away from you,

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry that I’m here, that you’re going to die. And that isn’t something to be sorry for.”

“Pl—Please, I have a daughter—a son, you don’t need to do this.” He begged, tearing up as he watched your grip on the switchblade tighten, watched you continue to approach. He was pathetic. Everything about him was pathetic.

“She had a daughter, too.”

His eyes widened as you leaped at him once again, digging your knife as deep as you could get it into his shoulder, feeling it graze bone as you pushed the hilt firmly against his skin, until you could practically hear the blood vessels breaking. He howled, a wounded animal, prey. And he did nothing as your fist descended against his face, once, twice, a third time.

It was just as you were losing count that somebody grabbed you, hauling you up and away from the body sprawled out on the floor, the puddle of blood slowly expanding beneath him. His chest was stuttering, but he had stopped groaning minutes ago.

“Well, shit.” A woman’s voice said, not sounding particularly authoritarian, so you figured she wasn’t FEDRA.

The hands grasping onto your arms released them shortly after, and you dropped to the asphalt, watching Colin’s chest closely, waiting for his breathing to stop. It didn’t seem to be slowing much, and you could feel that unending wave of rage coming back to you, overruling the numbness, and enhancing your need to have him dead.

You moved the slightest bit, about to launch yourself at him, but as soon as your foot was pushing you from your spot on the ground, the hands wrapped around your arms again.

“Fuck! Get off of me!”

“We can’t let you kill the guy, for fuck’s sake. We got business with him!” The woman spoke again, sounding increasingly irate as she moved to get between you and your mother’s murderer.

“He deserves to die. He deserves to be killed. Get off!” You practically roared, resorting to a state not unlike a feral cat, spitting and hissing, spine curling, trying to claw at the hands holding onto you. They stayed steady, even when you managed to scratch one of them deep enough to break skin.

The woman swore again, “Everybody deserves to die, get a hold of yourself!”

“Tess, ‘s probably best if we get him out of here.” The man gripping you said, voice straining slightly as he focused on keeping you restrained. He couldn’t do anything but hold on to you and watch as Tess dragged the guy, by his ankle, down the alley slightly, banging on a side door that you hadn’t even noticed. It opened, and the man inside swore before helping Tess grab the guy and haul him inside.

As soon as the door was safely shut, the man released you.

You walked to the end of the alley, gripping at the back of your head, swearing the whole way. You were probably screaming, given the way your throat was grating on every word, but the sound didn’t register.

“Joel, you’d better get in here.” Tess called, poking her head out of the door. You could hear the irritation in her voice, but it was immediately sent to the back of your mind as you realised what she had actually just said. You whirled around.

He wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

But he was… familiar.

You couldn’t help it — you laughed, almost hysterically.

“Are you kidding me?” You said, voice strained with laughter, “You are Joel? Miller?” You asked, wanting him to say no and be done with it all so badly, but you knew that he wouldn’t say that. It was ingrained in your blood, in your very DNA.

He stared uncomprehendingly at you, as if expecting a spark of recognition to go through him, but it didn’t happen. You saw Tess step cautiously out of the building, apparently prepared to have Joel’s back, no matter what your next move was.

“Who are you?” Joel asked, instead of answering your question, or even making a move towards where you had begun to cry. If only he fucking knew — he had just saved the man who had murdered your mother, who had murdered the woman who was, once upon a time, his wife.

You reached into your pocket, uncaring of the way they both reached for what you assumed were weapons, and pulled out the photo. The moment you unfolded it, revealing him stood next to your mother, it was certain. This man was your father. You held the photo out towards him.

“Joel—” Tess warned, as he stepped forward, but he dismissed her with a look, clearly communicating that he could handle himself. He wasn’t worried, despite the state Colin had been in when they had arrived.

He stared at the photo, brows creasing, face drawing blank, before he reached out and took it. His finger ran across the image of your mother, her bright smile, not a slither of grey to be seen in her hair. “How did you get this?” He asked, clearly in disbelief, denial, maybe.

You pointed to the woman in the picture. “That’s—was my mom.”

It could’ve been funny, months, maybe years ago, the way his eyes flickered between you and the image of her, as if trying to put together how much of the statement was true. You vaguely noticed Tess shift uneasily behind him, before approaching.

“Was?” Joel decided to ask, eventually, instead of whatever else was going through his head. He said nothing to Tess as she took in the photograph he was still holding onto.

“That man, he—he killed her. A few months ago.” You said, smiling, because you couldn’t do anything else. This was all too much. First, your mother is killed. And then when you finally find somewhere potentially safe, you hear about your father. And then before you could do anything about that, you see her killer! And then, before you could finish the job, your biological dad, Joel Miller, saved his life. It wasn’t funny, but you didn’t know how else to react.

You stepped back, sliding down the brick wall behind you until you were sat on the asphalt, and could hang your head between your knees.

“Oh fuck,” Tess said, connecting the dots as she looked between you and Joel rapidly, brows furrowed as she became increasingly concerned. “Don’t tell me that she’s—” She shook her head, turning away from the photo and Joel and you, running a hand through her greasy hair.

Joel was still processing, or at least that’s what it looked like to you. He was staring at the photo, strangely still, seeming blank of any and all emotions.

Tess paced for a moment more, before releasing a heavy breath. She walked past Joel, over to you. “Okay, c’mon.” She said, holding out a hand for you. When you hesitated, she waved her hand and barely refrained from putting it in your face. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of here before Colin goes to FEDRA.” You take her hand, surprised by her strength as she hauls you to your feet in an instant, releasing you immediately. She shook her head again. “Joel, time to go.”

He looked at her, and then towards you, nodding once. You said nothing when he put the picture in his own pocket, instead of handing it back. You hesitantly followed after Tess, wondering what your next move should be, and Joel followed after the two of you, looking stricken.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

None of you had said anything, the entire time Tess had hurried you through borders and to what you assumed was their apartment. It felt like it was miles away from your own.

The wallpaper was yellowed with age, slowly drooping down the walls, peeling away at corners, but it wasn’t the worst state it could’ve been in. The floral pattern didn’t really lend itself to the vibes of the apocalypse, though. Nor did it match either Tess or Joel’s stoic and tough demeanours.

You had no idea what to expect from this.

For as long as you could remember, your mother had told you tales of your father, of the great man he was, the great father he was. But here, on the other side of a worldwide outbreak of infection, you couldn’t quite match the image in front of you to the man in those stories. You had spent so long thinking of him as being dead, unable to do anything to find you or your mother from a grave, that to learn he was alive, and with Tess, it was a shock to your system.

Where was Sarah? Where was the half-sister you had heard so much about from your mother?

Despite Joel matching the name, and the photo that your mother had kept, it just didn’t feel like he was the man you had been imagining as your father. He didn’t seem kind or caring, he didn’t look like he had any love left in him. And maybe, you could have accepted that, if he had other aspects to him, if he hadn’t let your mother’s killer live.

“What happened the day of the outbreak?” You asked, finally, despite the way you ached to run away and cry, for your mother, for yourself, for the father you would never have. Joel just looked at you, rarely blinking as if you were a figment of his imagination, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“No, we are asking you questions.” Tess responded, clearly taking the lead on the situation, despite having no connection to you. It really shouldn’t have been her business. You scoffed. “Where did you come from?” She asked you, unblinking in the face of your disbelief.

You shook your head, “How is that even relevant?”

“Because I said it is.”

“I don’t care what you say. He’s my dad. You’re not my mom.” You replied, roughly, angrily, and you’re only more irritated when Tess doesn’t even react. You become furious when Joel says nothing. “Are you going to say anything?”

Tess went to speak, but you spoke again before she could utter a word.

“Not even about how you let my mother’s killer go? You don’t have anything to say about that?” You questioned, stepping towards him where he had taken a seat on the couch in front of that god-forsaken wallpaper.

There was an awkward lull in the room, each of you waiting for Joel to speak. He seemed unsure if he was going to speak at all, his brows furrowing further, and he pulled the photo out of his pocket to look at once again.

“She died, years ago. My—my kids…” Joel swallowed, and shook his head. He placed the photo down beside him. The photo meant nothing. You could’ve been to his house, and brought it here with you, never having met the woman he hadn’t seen since the day the world fell apart.

“Did you even look for us?” You asked him, head tilting, eyes stinging, wanting desperately for him to say yes, to say he scoured the world but missed you somehow. But looking at him, covered with scars, you could see he was nothing like the man your mother remembered. He didn’t care, not like she thought he had. The man in front of you wasn’t your father — he was a disappointment. He was your father’s shell.

Joel didn’t speak, swallowing harshly, seemingly unable to form any words.

“You’re nothing like she said you were.” You told him quietly, shaking your head, reaching by his side and taking the picture. You wanted to rip his half off, throw it at him, denounce him, tell him he wasn’t your father, that he was never worthy of your mother, but you couldn’t. It was the only thing that you would ever have of the father you should’ve had. The man your mother had loved. She’d already had so much taken from her, you couldn’t, even after her death, take Joel away too. He could live on in the memory. In pictures.

They didn’t say anything when you turned your back on them, shoving the picture in your pocket, and walking out of their door. You slammed it behind you, felt the walls of their apartment tremble with the force, and kept walking.

Part of you, a big part, wished that Joel Miller would have stayed dead. At least that way, you could have kept pretending.

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kinopio-writes · 9 months ago

Note

Hello dearie!!

How are you? I hope you're doing well!

I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!

Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?

The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.

They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.

Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?

I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3

Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!

Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!

Stay proud!

-Nina <33

A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).

Warnings: Mentions of death

———

Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child

Alastor

• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse

• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway

• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”

• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by

• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”

• “But what about my mother?”

• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”

• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel

• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)

• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in

• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest

• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech

• and you’re so well-behaved, too

• up until he leaves your sight

• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that

• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell

• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down

• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother

• even when you talk about her a lot

• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything

• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her

• but, hey, at least he listens!

• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…

———

Husk

• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother

• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him

• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother

• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child

• so he took you in

• “But what about my mother?”

• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”

• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc

• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother

• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason

• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough

• only if you were asking him about her though

• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask

• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18

• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day

• the man in question sighed

• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day

• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”

• “Oh…”

• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”

• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”

• he smiled back

• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence

———

Vox

• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)

• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)

• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children

• but he’s a pretty busy guy

• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras

• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his

• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around

• but only around the other expendable employees

• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you

• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you

• they aren’t exactly good with children

• so he tried doing video calls

• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid

• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls

• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen

• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)

• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question

• skillfully

• like, extremely so

• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow

• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #husk x reader #vox x reader #child!reader #child reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel vox #kinopiowrites

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cultofdixon · 10 months ago

Text

“I love you” told in a silent way

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Eldest Greene!Daughter • The archer and eldest Greene daughter grew close when they met and even turned into a few things. Little did they know that they were expecting • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex / Quickies / Hickeys / Biting • TW: Canon Violence / Injuries / Self Harm Scars / Nausea / Talks of Abortion / Amputation / Pregnancy & Birth

Requested by: Anon

Daryl tried to be sneaky when it came to getting one of Hershel’s horses. He thought it be easier to maneuver through the woods on horseback instead of his bike. Wouldn’t be as loud either.

The man didn’t know anything about horses. Especially with putting the saddle and reins on. But he was trying to be quick so that none of the Greenes would notice.

Little did he know he was being watched.

“You forgot the saddle pad. Protects their back from the saddle…the friction and all”

The youngest Dixon quickly dropped the saddle and didn’t think of aiming his crossbow given the woman he turned toward didn’t seem to be armed.

“Who the hell are you?”

“The owner of the horse you be takin’. Don’t care if you do just thought you might need a hand before you take off”

“I’ve got more questions first—-“

“You want a name or somethin’? Or like why didn’t I show my face when your group stumbled into the ranch with a half dead boy?” She tilted her head after saying all that, watching the man’s body relaxed when she said all that. “I’m Y/N Greene. The eldest Greene daughter and I didn’t show my face because I’m not all too friendly with strangers and my old man isn’t all too proud of me”

Now Daryl was completely relaxed for some strange feeling growing in his chest. This total stranger didn’t leave out anything in the initial meeting…he didn’t feel like he had to pull it out of her.

“Can I at least get your name?”

“Daryl. Uh Daryl Dixon”

“Well nice to meet yea. Let me help you get the saddle on and you can take’em wherever you need to go”

“Ain’t gonna like…question why I’d be takin’ your horse?”

“The best thing about being invisible…is I already know why you’re doing it so I’m gonna help in my smallest way” Y/N got the saddle pad from the open cabinet in the stable approaching her horse to get him set up. “You’re trying to find that Carol woman’s daughter? I’d be careful when riding. Nelly is skittish sometimes”

“That’s understandable when a sicko comes by”

“I’m saying…be more careful with anything as small as a mouse when ridin’” Y/N warns as she tightens the saddle on carefully before taking the reins and handing them to Daryl. “If you don’t come back before nightfall, I’ll come and get yea”

“Not gonna need it” Daryl frowns gripping the reins keeping his gaze to the floor until she started to walk away when he brought his eyes back on her.

When Daryl left the farm, Y/N made her existence known to the others from his group given only Lori and Daryl knew of her. Lori only knowing because she accidentally stumbled across her when she needed air after learning what happened to Carl.

The eldest Greene still kept to herself but started to be help to these new people whenever it was asked. She even understood what Maggie was talking to her about when it came to how strange some of them were with one another. But also being mainly an observer, she told her sister more details.

“Have you seen that Dixon guy recently?” Y/N asks her sister Beth watching her shake her head, leading her to leave the house heading toward the stables.

To her surprise, Hershel stood in a bit of a mood when noticing their horse was gone.

“You know who took her?”

“Yeah and I gave the okay. Now I gotta—“ Y/N went toward one of the stalls when Hershel grabbed her upper arm. “Seriously old man. What now?”

“I don’t trust these people” Hershel sung the same tune ever since this group joined. Y/N quickly pulls her arm out of his grasp avoiding eye contact as she pinches the bridge of her nose to contain herself from exploding. “First we lose another of our people because they were left alone with this guy”

“To save the sheriff’s son—-“

“Then the Glenn fella is hitting on my precious Maggie—-“

“She’s a grown ass woman who can make decisions for herself—-“

“Then your stupid decision to let one of them use one of our horses led them to ask for—-“

“SHUT IT” Y/N hissed. “I ain’t bein’ blamed for stupid shit, dad. You’re a sweet old guy that wouldn’t turn away good people but of course it’s driving yea nuts how high maintenance it is. Now get out of my way”

Her father didn’t leave the stables and watched her go into one of the stalls to push over some hay to reveal her hunting rifle strapping it on her.

“What are you doing?!”

“Going out to save one of them from whatever bullshit he got himself in”

“Seriously?! How can you easily let someone in? How can yea risk your life—-“

“I have given too much to this world that I’m not about to let it take from me. Yeah…I may not know much of this guy but some cosmic whatever is telling me he’s worth it” and with that Y/N left for the woods.

Y/N didn’t walk aimlessly like the Dixon fella might have because she grew up in these woods. She’s seen his crossbow and knows he’s a hunter but unless you know your surroundings, you’re learning as you go. Which meant the fall that Daryl took when Nelly bucked him off, Y/N knew the spot he’d fall into. Daryl had just pulled the arrow out of his side to take out the walker trying to get him but when the sounds of another undead came, he knew he was done for.

Until the sound of gunfire rung through followed by a thud. Daryl in his exhausted state looked up from where he fell finding a blurry blob that was Y/N with her rifle still in a readied position. He scoffs slightly out of annoyance toward himself mainly but a bit toward her that he directed to her when she slid the side of the slope reaching him.

“You’re an idiot…”

“Says the one bleeding” Y/N frowns setting her rifle down beside her, helping Daryl sit up with some resistance. “Gotta close that better or you’ll bleed out before we get back”

“Why do you care? If Merle were here he’d make jokes about a girl touchin’ me”

Y/N sort of ignored his words. Merle? Must be family or at least someone close he’s thinking of because of the blood loss. Least she didn’t have to worry about hallucinations…at least when she’s there.

“I just do. Is that a good enough answer for yea?”

“For now”

“Good” Y/N shrugged off her flannel leaving her in a tank top making the heat rise to Daryl’s face as he turned away when she brought her shirt around his torso to apply pressure to the wound. “When we get back, the old man will patch you up”

“How’d yea even know I’d end up here?”

“I know these woods a bit too well, Dixon”

“So…yea could’ve warned me?”

“Nah. Then that would be doubting your abilities now wouldn’t it?” Y/N frowns bringing his arm around her shoulders hearing him groan when getting back on his feet.

Getting back to where they were was a struggle and resulted in Y/N carrying Daryl on her back to the best of her ability. A few bumps along the way but they made it. Now it was a slow walk back to the farm.

Though neither of them could’ve calculated what’s about to happen, to happen.

Once the two were in the clearing, Y/N heard muffled shouting while Daryl clung onto her really feeling the blood loss get to him. His feeling instantly changed when he felt her tense beside him when the group of men came running over. Daryl scoffs straightening up the best he could, glaring at Rick who held his colt in his face once again.

“That’s the third time you pointed that thing at my head” Daryl scoffs. “Gonna pull the trigger or what?”

Then the ring of a shot powered through and nicked Daryl in the head. The force caused him to fall over and Y/N to instantly approach his side to get him on his back making sure he was still breathing.

“I was kidding” Daryl groans, squinting his eyes from the pain in his head as Rick and Shayne quickly came over to help the guy onto his feet while Y/N got up continuing to carry his gear and grow an unsettling taste in her mouth when Andrea came running over admitting to her firing.

Dale noticed the look in the Greene’s eyes and felt the need to step in front of Andrea when she made her way over to them.

“Next time, if you’re ever unsure about the shot you’re about to take? Don’t take it” Y/N kept her cool and even shot the girl a temporary smile that faded into the resting neutral while she caught up with the others.

The poor guy laid uncomfortably in the bed while Hershel got to work on his stitches. Once the info about Sophia’s possible whereabouts, Hershel couldn’t help but speak his mind.

“If you didn’t go out in the first place, my daughter wouldn’t have felt obligated to save your ass”

“No one told her to come and save me. I would’ve come back somehow”

“Given your injuries, Dixon. Be a little more thankful that Y/N girl went and saved yea” Rick scoffs picking up the map from the bed and leaving to give the man some time to rest without people bothering. Hershel followed behind Rick watching him bother Y/N to get her input on their whereabouts regarding Sophia.

Night came and everyone was having dinner in the dining room while Daryl stuck in the room he was in. Carol came and went, gave him food and thanked him for not stopping his search for Sophia. He didn’t wait to leave until the house fell quiet indicating everyone was asleep. But right as Daryl was about to sit up, Y/N quietly pushed the door open resulting in the archer scrambling to cover his back.

She’s seen them but before his sake, she wasn’t going to say anything. Y/N tossed a bottle of Tylenol in Daryl’s lap making him relax and the sheets fall from covering him. “The old man is gonna want to check your bandages later. Change them and check for infection. Yknow, the good stuff”

“At this hour?”

“Man was a vet. Overnight shifts to check on the more critical asked for late night checks. Yeah you’re a person but it’s just how he does things”

“Can’t…You like check them for me? I hate being in here”

The pondering look on Y/N’s face took a minute before falling into a neutral expression with a hint of a smile followed by a shrug.

“Your tent is the furthest from the group yeah? By the bike?”

“Wild guess”

“But I’m right, right?” Y/N smiles warmly. “I’ll have to get some stuff then meet yea there. But go out the back, that door doesn’t squeak when opening it” she tells him back on her way out of the room.

It took him a bit to get out of the house given he was stitched up and sore from the incident still. But he didn’t think he took that long when finding Y/N leaning against the tree closest to his tent smoking.

“How long—-“

“I just got here. I am faster than you given the circumstances”

“I wasn’t the one that fell on their ass after carrying me up that slope” Daryl scoffs approaching his tent to unzip it but bending slightly caused a whole lot of pain that he stopped. Y/N tapped his shoulder indicating for him to move as he did with a groan followed.

The Greene tossed her cigarette to the ground and stomped it out before opening the tent letting him in first obviously then entering herself.

“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off again, or at least unbutton enough just for me to get to your bandages”

Daryl sat on his cot with a huff and a bit of an annoyed look infused with self-hatred. “You saw’em”

“I only saw what you’re willing to show” Y/N brought herself to her knees setting her first aid box next to him on the cot watching him from the corner of her eye take off his shirt dropping it on the floor next to her. “You’re not the only one riddled with a past, or…scars that explain it. Alright, may I?” She reached to touch the bandage waiting for his approval which was a nod from his end.

Her touch is so…light Daryl thought watching her work with taking the bandage off with wetting the adhesive so it wouldn’t tug at his skin. Gentle… he held the new bandage for her watching her double check her dad’s handy work. The slightest concern graced her features but immediately dissolved.

“My stitches would’ve been neater. But it’ll do the job” Y/N comments as she took the bandage from his hand and started applying it.

“You also some form of doctor in this family?”

“Fuck no” Y/N laughs lightly. “I’ve lived in the city for so long that I’ve encountered my fill of chaos probably within the first year. But ten years later is when I decided to sell my soul back to this fucking farm”

“You hate it here?” Daryl questions instantly, watching Y/N clean up her stuff before leaning back on her hands on the ground. “This shit is a luxury. Even before the apocalypse”

“Mm. I don’t know you well enough to go into grand detail about why this place is really just a burden. But you’ve seen how the old man is. Imagine being his kid on the receiving end to his bs”

“I guess that’s fair” Daryl slipped his shirt on when listening to her speak. “Some parents aren’t fit to be parents”

“As much as that is true, maybe even speaking from your own experience. Most situations involving multiple children, there’s always a favorite. But in this case, there’s the disappointment and the two perfect daughters”

“Why are you sharing this with me?”

Y/N shrugs reaching into her back pocket taking out her pack. “You’re relaxed aren’t you?”

She got that right. She got him to stop thinking about his injury, and a little bit about how his search was pretty much a failure.

Once Y/N put her lighter away after lighting her cigarette, she only took two puffs before Daryl carefully leaned over taking it from her mouth to give it to himself.

“I’m taking that as my leave” She laughs lightly as she brought herself to uncomfortably stand in the tent, hunching over just a bit.

But as Y/N reached to take her kit, Daryl took a hold of her wrist tugging her into his lap catching a bit of a confused look from her. Making his anxiety rise slightly that he read her kindness wrong and part of her didn’t expect much.

“Do what you plan on doing, Dixon” Y/N brought her arm around his shoulders as her other hand gently made sure his bandage was secure but also place itself on his cheek.

It took him a second longer to think about his action before pressing his lips against hers. The softness of her lips against his made his heart start racing and her hand moved from his cheek to his chest to confirm such.

When the morning came, Daryl woke with a groan sitting up in his coat to find beside him being empty but Y/N still remained in the tent getting her jeans back on. He admired the work he done on her neck but his eyes fixated on the burn scars he caught a glimpse of resting on her thighs. She could sense the staring and tensed only for a moment until her pants were back on.

“There’s not enough make up in the world to cover your attack on my neck and chest. But I don’t give a fuck who notices”

“Don’t know about your family, but these folk don’t know when not to include themselves in other’s business. They are def gonna ask where mine came from” Daryl chuckles lightly bringing himself to completely sit on the cot referring to his own hickeys that were more on the neck and shoulder. Including a bite mark that Y/N couldn’t help herself last night, it was either that or wake the whole tent city. “It’s still early”

“Yeah but just like your folks, my family is nosey. Especially my sisters.” She sighs while buttoning up her flannel even if she does prefer it open, just needs a minute to get inside and in her room before the interrogation starts.

“Y/N.”

Y/N turned to Daryl once she sat on the ground to get her shoes on as she could sense the hint of worry coming from the man and she could only assume was toward what he saw.

“We’re not so different” Y/N states finishing tying her shoes. “Mine were just. Self inflicted”

He couldn’t contain his concern even if in his own special way it was only noticed through his eyes and body language. Y/N could read him and part of Daryl worried about that.

“You stop?”

“Don’t be—-“

“I ain’t gonna be one of those nut jobs that tell yea “please stop for me”. Only you can really make that decision”

“Well, I did. When I moved back”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Three months before the world ended” and with that Y/N took her leave, leaving the first aid kit with Daryl giving her a reason to come back.

Even if a part of him wanted to go after her.

The two had their alone time a few times before news of “walkers in the barn” spread to the group. Daryl felt a sense of betrayal since Y/N cares so much about their safety in the past few days that she didn’t tell him anything about it. But when he went to the back door where he’d usually meet her, he heard shouting from inside coming from her.

“Walkers in the goddamn barn, old man?!”

“People are in that barn. Good people. I’m protecting the—-“

“They’re already gone! They stopped being themselves the second the infection spread from the bite”

“You don’t know that”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Y/N scoffed pinching the bridge of her nose trying to contain her anger and failing. “I swear to god if I open it—-“

“—You wouldn’t—-“

“—-and find mom in there after you said she just “disappeared”. I’m going to prove you she’s not mom anymore”

Daryl couldn’t help but flinch when he heard the ring from the slap that came from Hershel’s hand meeting Y/N’s cheek. Normally one would cry but instead she kept her composure and decided to reframe from saying another word or she would’ve acted instead. He quickly stepped away when the door flung open seeing the anger in her eyes and body language. The single tear that rolled off her cheek made him act without realizing and gently brushed it away watching her relax but not enough to fall into his arms and stay there. She pulled herself away shooting him a temporary smile before walking into the woods behind the house to clear her head.

The eldest Greene only returned to the shouting happening and then sudden gun fire which led her to grabbing hers on the way over to the commotion happening by the barn. Y/N froze beside her father watching Maggie comfort him while the others started shooting down the walkers that flooded out. She heard quick footsteps coming as she stopped whoever, Beth, from going any further as she held onto her. She held her as she sobbed watching the dust settle and one walker left started stumbling out.

Sophia.

Daryl quickly latched himself onto Carol before she could even get close to her daughter. Her sobs grew louder the more she was restrained from seeing her little girl that was soon ended by the sheriff that left her all alone in the first place. Rick will forever take that as his fault and won’t ever forget it.

It took them all a second to adjust to what happened as Daryl helped Carol on her feet only for her to thrash out so his grasp from anger and loss. Y/N did her best to keep Beth away from the carnage but she slipped from her grasp causing her to follow her little sister to the pile of walkers.

“Beth, no that’s not—“

“That’s our mom!” She cried as she brought herself to her knees beside the corpse pushing the one on top of it off her. “Ma…”

Her screaming caused everyone to act. The men quickly grabbed at her pulling her away from the reanimated corpse as Y/N quickly came through and slammed her foot into the skull of the sicko. There was a pause in the chaos of Beth screaming, Carol sobbing, and a few of them bickering. Just a pause to let what happened sink in.

“Y/N…” Maggie exhaled watching her fixated gaze to her foot coated in the aged blood as she slowly lifts her foot and stepped away. “Y/N, wait!” She quickly followed her as Y/N made her way past their father.

“I never should’ve come back” Y/N frowns continuing on her way to who knows, and on her route she took the pack of cigarettes out from her back pocket tossing them to the ground which only those who knew would understand.

But she kept her lighter.

After taking care of a few things, Daryl was finally left to take care of himself. Even if he wasn’t going to. His anger feasted mainly on himself compared to being toward others, granted he doesn’t have any reason to be mad toward anybody except for maybe Rick or Hershel for that barn bullshit. Or Shane. Hell he was frustrating himself. He wasn’t going to do anything with her in that sense but needed to find her.

It didn’t take much searching because as much as she hated the place, Y/N stuck close for a lot of reasons. Daryl only found her when she tossed an acorn at his head from above where she sat on one of the branches.

“Obviously looking for me”

“Not for that though.”

“I didn’t do anything if you’re thinking—-“

“No. Well, not entirely” Daryl shrugs watching her climb down the tree to be level with him. “You stalled. Stayed in…the corpse”

“If your mother turned, and you had to end her the way I did…you wouldn’t move right away.”

“Thankfully my mom died in a fire she caused”

“Thankfully?” Y/N scoffs watching him shrug again which made an ill laugh escape her lips. “I wish she didn’t die that way.”

“I wish you didn’t have to be the one to end it. Entirely. I’m sorry”

“Daryl…” Y/N frowns looking him dead in the eye waiting for it. Waiting for him to say it even if his anger started to get the best of him in the moment. “It’s not your fault”

“Stop”

“It’s not”

“But it is!” Daryl snapped in her face realizing she flinched and given all the feelings in the air that day, she couldn’t keep her guard up in that moment. “She wasn’t even mine. Not my daughter. How could I blindly care so much?”

“I was like that in the beginning of whatever we are”

“What?”

“Caring so blindly. I didn’t know you and I came and saved you. Well until that annoying blond put a bullet in you…almost. Then I saved you. In my own way.” Y/N crosses her arms bringing herself close enough to lean against the tree she was just in. “Sometimes, you just care and don’t need a reason. Then the more you know a person all the reasons come to light”

“I care about yea, yknow. Even when I didn’t know a thing”

“You cared about her, without knowing a single thing. From what I heard, there is a person at fault but even then? Rick shouldn’t bully himself for a child running from danger. Kids don’t listen. That’s why they have parents to care for them. Or siblings. It’s harder when the kid has to care for themself. But that’s beside the point…” She turned her head in the direction of the house. “It’s all a shitshow. The end of the world. But we make do with it. Care about those we’ve just met or learned more about in such a little time”

“We need all the people in our lives for as long as we can” Daryl frowns bringing himself closer as Y/N moved her arms to her sides watching him get close enough that she could feel his breath on her. But he brought his forehead to rest against hers, feeling her hands find purchase on his neck. “You’re allowed to fall apart”

And she did. In the comforts of his presence then his arms…and his warm embrace. Things continued to escalate at the farm that eventually, it was set ablaze. All the commotion caused everyone to scramble, lose a few, and meet up on the highway. Daryl’s anxiety shot up when he couldn’t find the eldest Greene sister with her other sisters that were driven to “safety” by Glenn and Hershel.

Then the rustling of the woods were heard and few thought it was more of the walkers. But suddenly, Y/N stumbled out falling against the slope that led to the freeway and before any of her remaining family could rush to her…Daryl was already at her side helping her stand and she was met with a tearful gaze coming from the man that she didn’t care about keeping it a secret anymore…Y/N pressed her lips firmly against his for a short lived kiss before he brought her entirely in his arms holding her.

“Oh you so owe me” Maggie made the comment toward Beth as she glares at her sister. A bet was made. If that wasn’t clear.

“How long have—-“

“No time to act like a father right now. We need to find shelter for the night.” Rick cut off Hershel and gave Daryl a look to start the ride with his bike since he can maneuver and find a path easier. But instead of Carol being on his bike, Y/N took that spot rightfully and not like Carol was complaining.

It was a short ride but long enough for Daryl to realize Y/N’s trembling from the shock of watching her home burn and the struggle of getting out of there alive. She didn’t go unscathed but the cuts were small and not so deep. Daryl still took care of them.

After Rick’s whole speech, it was time to call it a night and stick close to everyone. Daryl took first watch which meant Y/N sticking with him.

“Your old man didn’t look too happy about us”

“He’ll have to get used to it.” Y/N whispered to him feeling his arm snake around her shoulders keeping her close. “Cant believe it’s gone”

“I’m sorry”

Y/N shrugged a little before bringing herself closer to him enjoying the warmth he emitted. “Least I got these on my way out” she pulled out her pack of cigarettes which made a laugh escape Daryl’s lips.

It took some time to get used to the idea that they were going to be moving a lot until something more permanent came along. But they also needed something permanent to come by the end of nine months because Lori was pregnant.

Everyone noticed how stressed Rick would get when Lori would shut him out for his decision making that lead them here so a few did their best to keep that level low.

“Daryl and I are gonna go hunt for dinner while my old man and Carol set up camp for the night” Y/N informs Rick on her way out. “Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog should be back soon with whatever they scavenged from the few houses around”

“Thanks Y/N, be back before nightfall” Rick stated watching her nod before following Daryl out of the house they decided to make their shelter for the night.

As much as they did what they told Rick what they were going to do. They planned on other things.

“Fuck—-“ Y/N cursed adjusting herself against the counter even with Daryl pinning her against such. “Maybe we do this on the floor next time” her hands slipped resulting in Daryl picking her up still deep inside her velvety walls and forcing her against the wall.

“Better?” He huffed watching her arms move to find purchase around his neck.

“Yes, please continue” Y/N begged as Daryl instantly latched his lips against hers picking up the pace thrusting inside of her using the wall to his advantage so he could bring one of his hands to her clit helping her reach her release.

Her toes curled and heels dug into his back when she reached her high and felt Daryl remove his hand from her clit to have a better grasp on her while he quickened his pace and thrusted harder reaching his own release, spilling inside her warmth. They held onto each other catching their breaths.

“Holy shit…” Y/N gasps softly when Daryl adjusted his stance still inside of her. “So…”

“Round two?” He smirks followed by one appearing on her features pressing her lips against his. Before the two suddenly flinched to the sound of a spring lock. “Shit”

“Mm. Maybe later?”

“Imma hold yea to that, sunshine” Daryl kisses her once more before pulling out of her helping her gain her balance using himself as her steady.

After helping clean up, Daryl checked the trap they set pulling out a raccoon that unfortunately met its end. Y/N stepped out carrying a few finds that would help a few with keeping warm during the colder nights. Blankets, sweaters, etc.

“Think we should set up a few more traps before we head back”

“Sounds good” Y/N extended her hand for Daryl to hand off the raccoon so he could set them up. “I’m gonna put some of these things by your bike so I can sweep around”

“Be careful yeah? I’ll join yea when I’m done”

Y/N kept the catch attached to her backpack on her while the blankets and clothes were left on his bike. She went through a few houses near the one they both were in and stopped in one of the few two stories finding a few more canned goods and took note of how secure the building was. Maybe they could move there for a few weeks? She thought while stepping through the place some more, stopping at the fireplace finding the photos coated in dust. She extended a hand toward one deciding to dust it off and find an old married couple behind the glass. They looked happy. In love. Y/N didn’t quite understand the feeling she was feeling in her chest when staring at the picture of a random couple.

“Anything good?” Daryl’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as she sets the picture back where it was.

“Nothing I haven’t already put in my bag. I’m ready when you are”

Heading back was quiet and that didn’t concern Daryl much given it was getting late. But Y/N started to act off that it even concerned her. She was more exhausted than usual, finding herself sleeping more in her spot of the house wherever they moved, she ate less, took more of the first night watch shift, and went out less with Daryl. Every time she did, Daryl mainly kept an eye on her and their conversation was smaller than usual. This has been going on for a month, and they’ve been house hoping for three so far. It was about to become winter.

Y/N was taking a longer night watch given Rick, Daryl, and Glenn decided to head out for a small hunting trip to bring back enough game to last them through winter. Even if Daryl said he was going to hunt through the cold months just not as frequently. She was once again lost in her thoughts while looking out into the darkness staring occasionally at the trigger line. Worrying about the group, missing Daryl, fearing what could happen—

“Sweetheart?” Hershel whispered for those sleeping inside but was loud enough to get Y/N’s attention. “How are you feeling?”

Ever since the fire, Hershel has been trying to rekindle the father daughter relationship with his oldest. Even if in her head, he’s always going to be her dad and it wouldn’t take much to repair it. He’s already apologized enough. But she expected it again tonight.

“I’m tired”

“I’ve noticed. Are you falling ill with somethin’? I can go out with Maggie to go look for—-“

“No, no. I’m not sick” Y/N frowns watching her dad take a seat with her. “I don’t feel good. Yeah…but the other thing is just. I love him but I’m afraid to tell him”

Hershel couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him which only brought a glare and a huff out of his daughter. “I told your mother that I loved her, first. She didn’t say it back and honestly? I didn’t expect her to. I just want her to know that I loved her. Then a few months later she tells me she loves me too. For some they say it immediately back, or they take a while. But that doesn’t mean what they do for you, has zero trace of love toward you.”

Y/N couldn’t help the little tears that spilled from her eyes when her dad said such. Hershel gently brought his arm around her shoulder bringing her in so she could rest her head on his shoulder continuing to cry if she needed.

A couple more days passed and the sick feeling turned into vomiting and migraines every other day. Y/N couldn’t shake a feeling and decided to act on it.

“Y/N…” Beth shook her older sister awake as Y/N slowly sits up looking to the other side of her seeing Daryl still fast asleep then she turned to the window finding it still dark out.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers tucking the loose hair in Beth’s face behind her ear.

“I started my period…and I don’t have anything…”

Y/N nodded knowing exactly what she was asking as she tugs her pack over to them rummaging through it. She then realizes she missed her period.

“Uhm. I don’t have anything, love. Maybe ask Mags in the morning? I’ll ask Carol if she’s stumbled across any”

“Okay…” Beth frowns watching her sister go into her bag knowing she at least had pain meds and gave it her to see a small smile form for a moment before she shuffled back.

Her anxiety started to eat at her and she knew the only way to know for sure is to get a test. But that will wait for the morning.

“Hey I’m gonna take a car into the nearby town. Sweep the place one last time before we move again before the weather goes from just cold to snow”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Rick stood up grabbing his coat. “I’ll tag along with you and Daryl”

“If Daryl wants to tag along. I was gonna ask Mags” Y/N states receiving a confused and concerned look from Daryl while her sister lights up with a smile. “Maybe you and Glenn can do one last hunt and check the traps before we move?”

“Alright. But he’s gotta keep up with me like yea do”

“He will” Y/N laughs softly smiling as Daryl snuck in a kiss on the cheek when no one was looking. “We’ll be back before nightfall”

“Yeah I’ll make sure to get some baby stuff if we come across it” Rick tells Lori only to be met with an avoidance in her gaze as her hand stayed on her already showing belly. Y/N couldn’t help the staring toward the two before squeezing her eyes shut and quickly stepping out once she got her backpack and a coat.

Maggie took care of driving and Rick took the passengers, leaving Y/N alone in the backseat scribbling in this journal Maggie found for her on a run with Glenn. She mainly wrote her concerns and the obvious one plaguing her mind was

Is she pregnant?

They were reckless, now he’s going to leave her.

Does he even like kids? He doesn’t talk much to Carl…

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong” Rick frowns looking out the window as Maggie turned to him for a second with a confused look. “She’s mad about it all. What happened with Shane and being pregnant in the apocalypse. She thinks because she had a c-section she’s more likely to have another and we don’t have the tools for it. So it stresses me out…thinking I’m gonna lose my wife. But I can’t voice those concerns because she’s mad at me. Pregnant and mad”

“Pregnancy makes women feel all their emotions times 100, Rick. It’s going to be rough for a while” Maggie pats his shoulder glancing back to find Y/N looking a bit more pale than before. “Sis, you alright?”

Without another word, the second she felt the car stop…Y/N quickly ran out ditching her things and going to vomit into the near by bushes. Maggie frowns unbuckling her seatbelt and about to check on her when she noticed her journal in the backseat. Her hesitation made Rick get out to check on her older sister while she picked up the book to read it.

Maggie wasn’t going to tell Y/N she read it. But then read those entries and felt the same anxiety her sister felt for a moment.

Maggie gave Y/N some time to recollect herself after bolting out of the car. But she didn’t mean to corner her in the pharmacy section of the mini grocery store.

“Mags what’s up with that look on your face?”

“I uhm. I’m sorry”

The apology caught Y/N off guard until Maggie just let it out.

“You’re pregnant?” Maggie frowns and the negative look on her face only made Y/N feel so much worse on the matter. But instead of tears, it was anger.

“AND?! So what if I might be pregnant? Like that isn’t going to be a fucking issue when we already have a pregnant woman in the group and look how she and her man are doing. I haven’t even said I love you yet to Daryl and I don’t even know if he wants kids” then the tears suddenly broke out as she stared at the pregnancy test box she had in her hand. “I can’t get rid of it. I don’t want to lose him. The universe took too much from me already, I can’t lose anymore” she sobbed, Maggie didn’t wait another second bringing her sister into her embrace holding her protectively.

“Y’all are gonna try and see if that car works? Just the two of you?”

“It’s not the first time I hot-wired a car by myself” Y/N stated with Maggie nodding to confirm such.

It’s not that Rick didn’t trust the two, it was going to be night soon and that was his concern. But he also needed to get all their findings back.

“Fine. But you have to camp out if it gets too late”

“We’ve got this. If the lights work, we’ll drive back” Maggie smiles as Rick sighs letting them rock and leaving.

The two gave each other a look and Maggie went into her bag taking out the few pregnancy tests handing them to Y/N. She went back inside one of the buildings to do her business while Maggie got started with hot-wiring the car.

“Y/N I don’t feel good…”

“Yeah I know, bug. I’m sorry I’m working as fast as I can” The sixteen year old Y/N tugged on the wires from under the dash to get the car started while her baby sister Maggie continued to groan in the backseat. Being left to babysit while the folks went into town was killer. Especially when no one expected Maggie to have a skyrocketing fever.

“Sis…” She cried the entire drive as Y/N did her best to be a smooth driver into town and to the nearest ER.

“I’ve gotchu, bug. Everything’s gonna be alright”

“Everything’s gonna be alright” Maggie frowns rubbing Y/N’s back as she did her best to contain her tears while they drove back.

“It won’t…it just won’t” Y/N wiped away her tears taking the remaining time back to collect herself. She took out the cartoon of cigarettes from her bag staring at the thing knowing her sister’s gaze to burning a hole into the side of her head. “I’m not going to do them, bug” she frowns rolling the window down and tossing the box out hearing the sigh of relief.

“Good…I need to keep you safe. So it keeps my niece or nephew safe”

The smallest joy brought a temporary smile to grace Y/N’s features even if the uncomfortable anxious feeling clawed at her back over how Daryl will react.

When they arrived back, both Glenn and Daryl were waiting outside the house that was lit from the fire T-Dog got started in the fireplace to keep everybody warm. Glenn instantly went to Maggie’s side checking her in his anxious way that was immediately reassured. But Y/N remained in the car with her head down, driving Daryl nuts internally until he noticed Maggie give him a look to join her and that only made his anxiety worse.

“What’s wrong with—-“

“Just let them be. Cmon, gotta give Beth something” Maggie smiles tugging Glenn along back inside until it was just Daryl and Y/N.

The archer shut the door once he entered and before he even said a word, the eldest Greene daughter exhaled.

“I’m pregnant”

Daryl expected more from her but was met with her silence and honestly, that made him worry for her instead of thinking of his feelings about the news. This explains why she hasn’t been feeling well—-but she could’ve let him in. Makes sense why she wanted to go on a run with her sister—-but he could’ve been there for her. Y/N found out alone for a moment—-yet Daryl could’ve help her the second she did.

“You thought I would leave yea”

Y/N instantly shot her head up turning to him as if he read her mind. Daryl gave her a bit of a disappointed look that was met with brimming tears.

“I’m not gonna leave yea. Never.” Daryl stated as fact which led the tears to spill. “I just wish I help you through it. Yeah you had your sister. But you mean so much to me and this is our future. I wasn’t gonna go anywhere before, I definitely ain’t now” he finished his thought as he stepped out of the car rounding to Y/N’s side and gently pulling her into his arms letting her sob into him as he protectively held onto her.

The winter started to present itself and the news stayed within the three (four if you count Maggie blabbing to Glenn, which was only a matter of time before they all knew). Which led to once they found their home to hold off the winter, Daryl brought himself inside after checking the one trap he placed sitting down beside Y/N.

“There’s something we’ve got to say to you all” Y/N started and felt anxious with everybody staring. Guess the fire took away more than just their safety, but her confidence.

“She’s pregnant” Daryl finished resting a hand on her thigh gently rubbing his thumb in a soothing motion for her to relax.

Before any positive thing said can be thrown up in the air. The shocked expressions turned instantly to confusion and toward Lori when she scoffed toward the news.

“Seriously?” Lori beckoned Y/N to confirm it herself as she did with a nod even if her expression fell when the woman started laughing. “Great that’s just great”

“Lori—-“

“No, shut it Rick. It was already trouble taking care of my pregnant self. What makes y’all think we can take care of two? You two should’ve been more careful and found abortion pills”

“Woah! You don’t get to get to be a bitch just because you’re pregnant” Carol hissed drawing a shocked expression out of the Grimes who quickly turned to her husband for a defense. “No you started this on your own and you will finish it”

“None of us asked for you to be pregnant.” T-Dog adds abruptly. “That shit just happens sometimes. No timing is ever perfect”

“But still—-“

“No you don’t get to talk to my——“

“girl like that” Daryl snapped cutting Hershel off. “Don’t take a good thing and fucking stomp on it just because you’re miserable. You have to remember a few of us have some bullets against yea and I ain’t afraid to fire every single one of them if you come at her again” he frowns bringing his arm entirely around Y/N keeping her close, ignoring the tense look on Lori’s face as Rick’s disappointment turned to a bit of sadness when hearing such. But it was quickly shifted to a smile when his son turned to him then toward the two.

“Congratulations?” Carl laughs the tension away resulting in Beth quickly moving over to hug her sister as Hershel made his way patting Daryl on the back before kissing the top of Y/N’s head.

They were going to be okay. Their village will make sure of it.

The winter months were brutal and miserable for everybody. They had to move once through the cold because the roof collapsed in a section of the old house that made it dangerous for everybody. The group ditched their cars and stayed in the neighborhood just for the winter because of the snow. They’ll go back to the cars later, T-Dog and Beth took care of carrying their extra items that weren’t apart of everybody’s individual packs. Carol and Hershel took care of getting the fire going and getting food for the day ready, Hershel also took care of checking both Lori and Y/N every now and then to make sure they are alright. Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl were the ones in the watch rotation and as much as he protested, Y/N would tag along with Daryl.

“No”

“I’m not that pregnant yet, Daryl. I can go out with you.”

“It’s snowing”

“So?”

“I go huntin’ by myself all the time and I’d rather yea stay warm than suffer with me”

“And you think it’s going to sit well with me having you suffer the colder conditions?” Y/N glared at the man getting frustrated with the back and forth, Daryl was going to argue again when he noticed both of her sisters shaking their heads not to try. Pregnant or not, she will continue to argue until she’s blue in the face.

“Fine. But layer up” Daryl states letting her get ready as he goes into his pack taking out his poncho to put it on over his layers.

The two went through the center of the neighborhood, Daryl hating the snow and Y/N enjoying it. He only hated it because it made tracking animals difficult and before he could tell her about heading back…

“I love you” Y/N tells him watching him freeze in his place as she anxiously adjusts the rifle on her back gripping the strap. “I don’t expect you to say it back now or in a few months or years. I just needed you to know that I love you and you mean so much to me”

Daryl brought himself close pressing his lips firmly against hers bringing his arms around her. They enjoyed themselves for the moment until Y/N heard shuffling and expected a walker but when she looked behind him. There were deer. But when Daryl got a look, he stopped her from readying her rifle which brought out a confused look from her until she noticed a buck making its appearance along with two babies.

Now they were watching the family just be, making Daryl look over to Y/N watching her smile at the display as he brought his hand to rest on her small bump. She glance to his hand for a second before smiling more and resting her hand over his before continuing to look at the deer family. Thankfully on their way back they got a bunny and a few squirrels that made themselves known in the winter.

It wasn’t long before the warmer months came back and Y/N couldn’t ride on Daryl’s bike anymore. She stuck with Glenn and Maggie and with the moving from house to house increasing. T-Dog and Rick took lead with sweeping the houses they come across before the group resided but Daryl followed behind after checking on Y/N. But when herds came through, they didn’t wait and went straight back into the car and only the road.

“Let’s go hunt” Daryl tells Rick watching him nod as Hershel held him back to talk about Lori’s condition given she’s in her ninth month compared to Y/N in her seventh.

Daryl picked up his canteen from his bike going to Y/N and making sure she kept hydrated when the weather got dangerously hot.

“Gonna go hunt with Rick. We’ll be back soon”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

“You too” Daryl quickly kissed her cheek before going with Rick.

The two stumbled across the prison, which then led to the group taking out walkers in the field to give them shelter for the night before heading inside. The group huddled by the fire talking about Rick, what the prison could do for them, and a few miscellaneous things. Maggie happily let her older sister use her lap as a pillow as she laid on her side using her blanket to cushion her belly from the ground.

“Lot of movement today?”

“Yeah…fucking think this baby loves kicking my ribs” Y/N huffed out a laugh as Maggie brushes back her hair smiling at her watching Daryl return to the group with Carol. He knelt behind her resting his poncho over her before getting comfortable. “Done with watch?”

“We’ve got a gate. Besides, if shit happens it’ll alert all of us and Rick hasn’t left the gate”

“You check on him?” Y/N whispers to Daryl when she moved onto her back for a moment to look at him.

“Do I have to?”

“No, but he shouldn’t have to burden what’s going on with him alone. Even if you don’t quite understand it”

Her words rung in his head especially when they dealt with the prisoners, then the Walker outbreak, losing Lori, almost losing Hershel and Carol…it was a lot. Things seem to only escalate and it didn’t help that all the commotion rendered Y/N speechless and she hasn’t spoken a word the moment Lori died.

She could die too

He will raise this baby alone

What will happen to her family?

She can’t die

She won’t die

Y/N stayed by the gate when they left and she knew her dad and Carol were watching her every move that when the cars pulled in she stepped away after opening one of the doors herself even when Carol came with her protests.

The car pulled in and Y/N waited for Daryl to come out but when everybody except him, she gave Rick a confused look while he hung his head.

“Daryl’s not coming back” Glenn ripped the bandaid off watching his partner shoot him a glare for not taking easy. But in Y/N’s head he did the right thing by just going for it.

“We ran into his brother and he’s not a great guy” Rick started. “But blood is blood from what Daryl told us…we just. Can’t let someone like Merle in the prison with us. He’s not a good guy and I’m sorry but Daryl’s not—-“ when he reached to lay a hand on her shoulder, she immediately smacked it away.

“You touch me and I cut your goddamn fucking hand off” Y/N glares at the retired sheriff watching him nod and step away. She glances down to her belly shutting her eyes tight turning away from everybody and started walking back to the prison.

This baby is half her and half him.

If the roles were reversed, she would’ve left with her sisters.

But that doesn’t make it okay for him to go.

“Has she spoken to anyone? Was snapping at Rick the only thing she said?” Carol asks Maggie as she nods while the concern grew on her face.

“Our daddy went to check on her and the baby. Heartbeats good. But going from a lot of movement to it being still…He thinks we should only worry if it stops for the remainder of her pregnancy.”

“Someone should get her to move. Walk around the prison or somethin’. Sitting there will make it worse for her” Hershel shared his concern as the three looked at Y/N sitting on the mattress Daryl pulled out for him originally on the catwalk.

“Nah. Get in an actual bed” Daryl protested Y/N sitting on the mattress but she did anyway.

“Last I checked a mattress is an actual bed”

“Don’t be smart with me, woman” Daryl sat up leaning into her space watching her stern look fall when he started showering her in kisses. “Least lay down with me”

“I wasn’t gonna stay sat up this entire time” Y/N playfully shoves him.

Y/N brought her attention to the young grimes bringing himself up with stairs with two bowls of food. Carl sat down beside her handing her the second one but she refused.

“Please?” Carl frowns watching her gaze turn to him with a look of ‘why?’ as in why would he be doing this for her. “We’ve…uh. We’ve lost enough people”

A sigh escapes her lips as she gently caresses the young one’s cheek giving him a small thoughtful smile before taking the bowl from him and eating.

“Y/N whisperer” Maggie whispers to Beth as the two were the ones to have Carl send up the bowl because Y/N wouldn’t snap at somebody who recently lost their mom.

They both froze when her gaze turned onto them when she finished the bowl of stew. Y/N handed the bowl to Carl as he stacked the empty bowls getting up but noticed her get up with him. She struggled at first and gestured toward one of her sisters to help as Beth quickly made her way up the steps helping her.

“Take a walk with me?” Y/N asks her youngest sister as she smiles nodding. Once the two met the end of the steps. “You too?” She asks Maggie watching her smile warmly.

Soon the three sisters were on the other side of the prison walking in silence and staring at the occasional walker but kept their focus on what’s in front of them.

“If something happens to me. The two of you will take care of them yeah?”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, sis. Nothing” Maggie’s smile instantly faded when her sister said such.

“I know, bug. But please”

“This is your first. Nothing like what happened to Lori will happen to you…” Beth frowns trying not to cry at the thought of losing her older sister. “Can’t lose you…I won’t have it”

“Beth, sweetheart, I know everybody is going to do everything they can to not let the worst case scenario happen…I just. Need the reassurance”

“They will be loved and cared for…if worst comes to worst.” Maggie brought her arm around her sister as Beth did the same, both on either side of Y/N. “We all will be okay”

The moment they got close to the main entrance, the gates were being opened to let in Daryl with his brother Merle shortly behind him. Y/N watched Maggie retract at the sight of the older brother as she brought herself over watching Daryl light up slightly but avoid her gaze.

“So you’re Merle”

“And you’re the woman my brother knocked up. Boy would not shut up about you being the reason he needs to come back. Who woulda thought someone softened my baby brother” Merle smirks and before another word came out of Y/N, everyone around watched her sock the man hard enough in the face that the force knocked him on his ass.

“Your brother is amazing to me even if I want that punch to also be at him for leaving” Y/N frowns looking down at Merle as she held her belly a moment followed by a sigh. “But that was a hundred percent meant for you”

“You just fucking met me”

“You kidnapped my sister and her partner. Beat him to a pulp and let that disgusting man touch my bug.” Y/N stared blankly at the man as it held so much anger that made him nervous. “Just be glad Daryl is your brother. Or I would’ve put a bullet in yea” she stepped away with Beth and Maggie following her while Daryl helped his brother to his feet.

“I like her” Merle smirks and was immediately manhandled by Rick to be put in their makeshift cell since they’re living in the actual ones. The same cell Michonne was in until she got on their good side.

Daryl hesitantly went to the catwalk finding Y/N there as he brought himself to sit with her. The silence was killing him but the way she soften when he returned to her. She couldn’t help but take his hand into hers while the other continued to rub circles on her belly.

“Are you—-“

“Oh I’m mad. But I have to keep calm or the baby won’t move” Y/N frowns feeling him let go of her hand to bring his on her belly thinking it will work…and it did. It was the smallest kick but it got tears to form in Y/N’s eyes making Daryl wipe them away and try to contain his own for his actions. “Are you okay? You ain’t going to leave again right?”

“Right. I ain’t leaving…I promise. I really promise this time” Daryl brought his arms around her holding her as she adjusted to lay comfortably in his embrace.

The plan about the governor escalated and succeeded. He was no longer a threat, but they lost so much in the process. Y/N found herself in the field where they buried their own, holding a flashlight for Daryl as he was burying another body. But it was his brother. The others wouldn’t approve but Y/N knew how much Merle sacrificed and thought he should be honored in a way. Daryl appreciated it. Even if he couldn’t control the tears that fell when he finished burying him. Y/N the best she could, wrapped her arms around him resting her cheek against his back.

“He did good”

“He did good…”

About a month went by and the Woodbury infusion went smoothly, and those started helping making the prison more of a function home. The one finished thing was the water plan that T-Dog brought up, thankful for him.

“You’re hovering”

“Okay?” Daryl scoffs leaning against the cell door to their room. “It either me or your old man”

“As if he’s not already there” Y/N turned to him with an annoyed look listening to Daryl sigh before Hershel made himself known. “I’m not going to fucking pop”

“That’s a creative way of putting it. You’re close to your due date. We want you to be safe”

“Yeah whatever.” Y/N pushed herself up and off the bed as they both were quick to her sides. “Okay I will kick that fake leg and make you fall and kick him in the balls if you both don’t stop hovering”

“Okay I will listen but I ain’t stopping him” Hershel pats Daryl’s shoulder. “Call me or Dr. S for any change”

Daryl nods watching him go as he gave a blank look to his girl crossing his arms. Y/N instantly glared at him but he kept his stance.

“I want to take a walk”

“I’ll go with yea.”

“Fine. But I’ll punch you over if you pick me up when I’m too tired” Y/N waddled past as he crossed his heart before following behind her.

There was a lot of commotion outside. Rick started working on the farm with Maggie, Glenn and a few Woodbury folk were clearing walkers, Tyreese was helping Carol build the outdoor grill along with Sasha helping with getting tables in, Beth was taking care of Judith as Carl rambled on about some comics that Michonne found for him, and Michonne was out on her weekly runs. Daryl helped around but mainly took the morning and night shifts when Y/N was asleep so that he would be there for her the rest of the time.

“Alex?”

“Nah, we ain’t having a boy anyway”

“I get it. But if it happens we still need a name”

“Robin goes both ways”

“God you’re so fucking lucky I like that name. And Fallon. But not for a boy name”

“Mmm…” Daryl glanced around thinking about a name for her sake. “Mark”

“Do you like Mark?”

“No”

“Then why did you—-“ Y/N scoffed. “Hunter’s mark?”

“You wanted boy names” Daryl shrugs. “Mark is a name. Hunter is also a name”

“Next thing you’re gonna say is Striker and that’s because of a brand of crossbows” Y/N continued to walk leaving Daryl a bit surprised that she knew that before catching up with her.

They were walking for two hours and Daryl was confused for half of the walk wondering why she even decided to walk for that long. Until she went back inside grabbing onto his shirt giving him a pain filled look.

“I thought it was nothing”

“What was nothing?”

“The fucking pain, Dixon. It’s too much”

It clicked a little late for Daryl but he instantly picked up Y/N only for her to start punching his chest in protest. “HERSHEL!” He shouted for the man while bringing his girl to the infirmary of the prison.

“Stop” Y/N whines hunched over in the bed as the contractions were awful for her. She smacked away Hershel’s hand when he tried to get a blood pressure cuff they found on her. “It’s too much. I’m not ready” she sobbed.

“I know sweetheart but the baby is. I’m gonna—-“

“Hell fucking no. I’m not having my dad check down there” Y/N covered her lower half with the blanket as Daryl felt her squeeze the crap out of his hand. He can take it.

“Beth. Get Caleb right now” Hershel shouted watching her exit the room as a small group formed at the entrance. “Unless you’re helping. Keep that area open”

When the other doctor arrived, Y/N was already reaching an uncomfortable amount of pain as she leans into Daryl feeling him rub circles on her back not like it did much. The words the doctor was saying weren’t registering but when he gestured for the blanket to look making her nod quickly.

“Yeah baby ain’t waiting. She’s crowning. We have anything for gloves?” Caleb asks as Hershel shakes his head before handing him a towel to catch the baby in. “Well alright.” He set the towel down for a moment and dunk his hands into the bucket Glenn got once he was asked earlier so it would be a bit more sterile. “You have to push on the next contraction”

“No…” She whined gripping Daryl’s hand tightly again. “It hurts I don’t want to”

“You have to sunshine. You have to push”

“But I’m tired” She whined followed by sobs as Daryl brushes the hair out of her face pressing his forehead against hers.

“Cmon sunshine. We gotta meet our little one” He whispers to her looking her in the eye as her voice started to tremble. “I love you. I love you so much Y/N. You’re being so strong right now and gotta continue to be alright? You gotta push now”

Y/N started to sob even more from the pain, the anxiety, the deceleration. She nodded listening to her partner as she waited for the next contraction to push resulting in her screaming which had a bit of an echo through the parts of the prison close to the infirmary.

“Good almost there” Caleb reassures. “One more big push”

“One more sunshine. One more and our little one is here”

One more push…led to the room filled with sobs. Tears from Y/N continued, tears broke out from Daryl, and the loud sobs that erupted from their baby girl being handed to the mother. Soft congratulations left the doctor’s mouth but nothing registered as the two’s attentions were glued to this little girl. A healthy little girl.

“You did good, mama” Daryl choked up wiping his tears looking at their little girl in her arms finally calming down. “She’s perfect, yeah?”

“So perfect” Y/N sobbed through a smile turning to him as he instantly kissed her. “I love you…”

“I love you” Daryl smiles keeping his family close.

When night fell, they moved back into their cellblock once everything was cleaned up and Y/N was well enough to walk. She was fast asleep in their bed as Daryl was wide awake sat up in the bed beside her holding their little girl that looked up at him with the same blue eyes he had.

“You are…so perfect, Robin”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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ecoterrorist-katara · 5 months ago

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Ka/taang: friends-to-lovers or the Friend Zone?

It’s almost axiomatic, in any ATLA shipping discussion, that Ka/taang is the friends-to-lovers ship while Zutara is the enemies-to-lovers ship, and that differences in shipping tastes can be boiled down to whether you prefer FTL or ETL.

My first ship was Percabeth. My biggest ship was Klaine. It took me until Mockingjay to let go of my Gale-and-Katniss-are-childhood-friends rose-tinted goggles and start liking Everlark. I started dabbling in ETL because of Zutara, but I’m incredibly picky about it (do not ask me how many Dramione fanfics made me irrationally, disproportionately mad).

All this to say: as a longtime friends-to-lovers enthusiast, I should theoretically love Ka/taang. But…

My difficulty with Ka/taang as a friends-to-lovers ship boils down to this: Aang and Katara’s friendship was always narratively framed as insufficient, because Aang liked her from the start and always wanted a romantic relationship. And imo that dynamic really colours their entire friendship.

I like to think Aang would’ve been a ride-or-die friend — the type to give up the Avatar State to rescue her, the type to commit ecoterrorism and help her get arrested, the type to make her a flower necklace to cheer her up — even if he didn’t have a crush on her, but I will never know that. We never got to see the pure friendship part of friends-to-lovers, because the spectre of the romantic relationship was always there. Before the last five minutes of the show, Katara’s feelings for Aang range from “plausibly interested” (The Headband, Cave of Two Lovers) to “doesn’t hate it” (Day of the Black Sun, The Fortuneteller) to “no” (Ember Island Players). Yet Katara’s eventual capitulation to reciprocation of Aang’s feelings was always depicted as inevitable, starting from s1 when the prisoners during Avatar Day reassured him that she’d “come around” because he’s a catch. It’s as if friendship, even one full of devotion and mutual love like the one they share, is not enough.

And that’s just totally antithetical to what I love about a friends-to-lovers dynamic. I love romances where characters value each other outside of attraction, when they see each other for who they are (this goes double for pretty characters like Katara, whose complexity and imperfections are just as important as her beauty and her care for others). I love the idiots in love sub-trope, where they’re obviously into each other, yet do a bunch of mental gymnastics to remain in comfortable denial (we got a little bit of this earlier in the series, but by s3 we were firmly in Aang-pines-and-Katara-deflects territory). In every friends-to-lovers story I’m simply obsessed with the confess-and-kiss scene, but the version we got in ATLA was ruined by the lack of reciprocation, twice.

Over time, because Aang was written as so insistent about his affections, Ka/taang went from a friends-to-lovers story to a Nice Guy Friend Zone “why doesn’t she like me” story. I mentioned Everlark earlier: I got the same ick for Gale in Mockingjay as I did for Aang in s3, where the woman is not interested yet he still badgers her about it. (And considering Gale is canonically hot, I don’t think the relative attractiveness of Aang is the issue here). But Gale’s insistence was presented as his problem, his lack of empathy, his self-righteousness; Aang’s insistence was just a part of his quest to get the girl.

A lot of people say Zutara is a female fantasy, whether they mean it in a positive or pejorative way. Nobody says the same about Ka/taang, even though women definitely have friends-to-lovers fantasies too. A good friends-to-lovers story reminds me of all the times when I was an idiot before getting together with a friend I was actually head-over-heels for. Ka/taang reminds me of all the times when I was not interested in a friend and they didn’t respect my preference. Friends-to-lovers is a delicate balance, maintained only by unerring mutual respect and unconditional care for each other, and it can veer into Nice Guyism if the writers aren’t thoughtful about why this dynamic is so appealing. Which is exactly what happened with Ka/taang.

#this ship is so interesting to me personally bc it hits all the buttons of things I hate in romantic narratives #and remarkably it’s not even the compelling type of “problematic romance” which are at least interesting #Anyway it is terribly baffling when I see people defending it on the grounds of being a super wholesome ship or whatever #anti kataang #anti bryke #tangentially #zutara #so tagging it just to be safe #though at this point I assume people who block the anti kataang probably have blocked the zutara tag too? Idk #my meta

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 month ago

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Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Big chapter for fans of character development paying off. Chapter Title from Ready For It...? by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 22.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You, Ben, and Butcher meet with Stan Edgar, and everyone adjusts to a new dynamic. Usual warnings, plus some extra smut.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 23 - Chapter 25

“What the fuck are you doing in my garden?”

Ben turned to find MM glaring at him—arms crossed and eyes narrowed—in the doorway of the room. First off, garden was a generous fucking exaggeration. They were in a sad little greenhouse with peppers, tomatoes, and a weird fucking green thing Ben didn’t recognize. There weren’t even flowers. Gardens should have fucking flowers. And this was a goddamn public space, not MM’s. Ben was fucking allowed to be here, and if he wasn’t, they shouldn’t make it so easily accessible.

“Test,” Ben grunted, scowling at MM and not moving from his place at the wall. “What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Like I said, this is my motherfucking garden. I’m here to check on the cucamelon,” MM pointed to the green thing, still glowering at Ben. “Whatever weird fucking test you’re doing, get the hell out so I can work.”

“No.”

“Soldier Boy, if you don’t get your ass out of my garden-“

Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to fucking stomp on your cuckamelon-“

“Cucamelon-“

“And this isn’t your fucking garden. It’s the BFSI’s, so I’m allowed to be here.”

“It is my fucking garden,” MM sneered. “And until I see any of you assholes stepping up to take care of it, I get the whole monopoly over it. Out.”

Ben scowled, glaring around the plants. “If it’s only you, you’re doing a fucking dogshit job. This looks goddamn pathetic-“

“I’d like to see you do fucking better-“

“I am not a pussy who gardens,” Ben snapped. “I’m a fucking man, and I’ve got other shit to do beside whine about plants-“

“Like your secret test?” MM looked Ben up and down, taking in his rigid stance at the edge of the room. “What the fuck are you testing in here, if you’re too much of a masculine asshole to garden.”

“That’s none of your goddamn business-“

Ready?

Ben paused, keeping his eyes trained on MM as he answered Her in his head. Ready. Be fucking fast. And for the record, I still think this is stupid-

It is not stupid, it’s important. We need to know the limits of this, Ben, and it’s not like we can just google “what to expect when you’ve planted your brain in someone,” we have to figure it out ourselves-

I’m doing it, Sunshine. But it’s fucking stupid.

Cunt.

Brat. Hurry the fuck up, I’m stuck with-

Shut it, Pretty Boy, the whole point is you don’t give me any hints-

“What the hell is happening with your face.”

Ben blinked as MM cut through Her scolding. “My face looks the exact fucking same-“

“You got all puppy-eyed and just stopped talking.” MM scanned Ben’s face with a frown. “Where the hell is the only likable part of you, why’d she leave you unsupervised-“

“I am not a goddamn child, I’m allowed to walk around by my damn self-“

“But you don’t.” MM muttered. “She went to the bathroom at dinner last night, and you looked like you’d gotten goddamn lost. So I’ll ask one last fucking time, why are you in my garden-“

MM’s words were cut off as the door slammed into his back, and Her eyes widened as he stumbled forward.

“Shit, MM, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here except Ben-“

“What the hell is going on-“

“How the fuck did you do that so fast.” Ben grunted, ignoring MM’s glare. “Did you cheat-“

“I didn’t cheat, Benjamin.” She wrinkled Her nose at him. “And you fucking told me to go fast-“

“You barely took a minute, so unless you were running-“

“I was running,” She shrugged. “I wanted to win.”

MM blinked. “Win what-“

“You can’t fucking win this-“

“The fuck I can’t,” She grinned. “You took seven minutes, and I took barely forty-five seconds. I win.”

“I went first, that’s not a even playing field-“

“I offered to go first, and you said,” Her voice dropped into that terrible fucking impression of Ben, a smug look still dancing in her pretty eyes. “No. I’m first, or I’m not doing this stupid fucking test. And I asked why, and you said because I’m not a fucking pussy. I’m first. And I told you that those two things have absolutely no correlation-“

“What the fuck are you two doing?” MM’s voice had risen to a shout, and She and Ben frowned at him. “And why does it have to happen in my garden?”

“Test,” She muttered, looking around the room with a frown. “I didn’t know we had a garden.”

“You don’t-“

“Did you know there’s a fucking pool?” Ben gave MM a glare. “Why the fuck didn’t you pussies tell how huge this place it-“

“It’s not a resort.” MM snapped. “And if one of you doesn’t start answering my question right fucking now-“

“We’re trying to see if we’re like pigeons-“

Ben scowled. “I vetoed calling us pigeons-“

“Shut up. They have a homing instinct, this is a homing instinct. And pigeons are cool, Ben, they’re international and both the males and females produce milk-“

“I am not producing fucking milk-“

“Can you idiots stay on topic for just five goddamn minutes?” MM ran a hand over his face, giving Her a flat look. “Why the hell do you think you have a homing instinct?”

“The Ben Thing,” She tapped her chest, sighing when MM gave her a blank stare. “The part of me that’s in Ben. I have a theory that it’s like a beacon, because I can always tell when he’s near me and I think I used it to figure out how to get home after the whole tower thing-“

“And why,” MM grunted. “Does that mean you have to be in my garden.”

“We’re taking turns hiding, to see if we can just follow the instinct to find each other.” She crossed her arms with a shrug. “Ben found me in one of the empty apartments, and I found him here, I guess.” She gave Ben a grin. “In forty five fucking seconds.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben narrowed his eyes and reached out an arm to try and prompt Her over to his side. Her grin grew—spreading across her perfect face and lighting up her eyes—and she took his hand, letting Ben tug her forward and spin her to lean against his chest. “I didn’t know it was a goddamn race, I would’ve walked a whole lot faster-“

She tilted her head back, smiling up at him. “Did you forget your cane, old man-“

Ben swallowed Her words with a kiss, squeezing her body in his hold and sitting in the comfortable, easy warmth that spread through him when she sighed into his mouth.

Brat.

Cunt. Old, grumpy, cunt.

You know better than fucking anyone that I am not old-

“Can you not mind-fuck each other in front of me?” MM cut through their conversation, and Ben glared up at him as Her face flushed.

“Sorry, MM-“

“Just get out of my garden,” MM sighed, gesturing to the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours for the meeting.”

She nodded, twisting out of Ben’s grip and pulling him to the hall—calling another string of apologies to MM over her shoulder as they left—and when the door closed behind them, Ben leaned down to mutter in Her ear.

“What fucking meeting do we have later.”

“Pre-Edgar, at 2.”

“I thought it was just us and Butcher-“

“It is,” She shrugged, falling a pace back to walk at Ben’s side. “But we’re doing a quick briefing about what to expect with everyone. We don’t know what Edgar wants yet, and if it’s something bad-“

“Doesn’t matter what he wants,” Ben grunted, glaring at the walls ahead of them. “I’ll fucking do it, and that will be the end of this shit.”

She sighed. “What if he tells you to kill Singer, Ben? Or break him out of prison, or traffic something for him? Something illegal-“

“I don’t give a fuck-“

“And that,” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Is why we’re doing the meeting. So you don’t commit a crime.”

“I’ve committed a fuck ton more crimes being payed by the CIA, don’t know when it got taken over by a bunch of fucking spineless pussies who are all uptight and selective about doing their goddamn jobs-“

She snorted. “I don't think anyone has ever called the CIA uptight. They’re just more subtle about their crimes now. And allowing Soldier Boy to assassinate the president for a former corrupt CEO isn’t exactly going to go under the radar.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Smartass.”

“Uh huh.” She paused her steps, frowning at him. “Ben.”

He grunted, watching Her examine his face, listening to her heart hum in her chest.

“Promise me you won’t just do whatever Edgar asks. I know you made a deal, but it could be dangerous-“

“I can handle some fucking danger-“

“I know you can,” She sighed. “I just, I don’t want to lose you because you’re such a weirdly honorable asshole. If Edgar’s demand is something unconstitutional or illegal or borderline impossible to do, please promise me you won’t do it.”

He couldn’t promise that. Ben had sworn on Her life, on her safety, that he’d come through when Edgar called. But he also wouldn’t lose Her. That option wasn’t even on the fucking table, because not matter what Edgar told him to do, Ben wasn’t going to let himself lose her over it. He’d take care of it, fast and quick and brutal, and find his way back to Her. That’s what this whole goddamn pigeon shit was about. Always fucking finding each other.

But Ben couldn’t lie to Her. It made him feel a little fucking sick, and She always knew he was lying, and that made him more sick. Like the part of Her inside him knew he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and pushing up his throat until he swallowed it with the truth.

So he settled on a truth.

Ben said Her name, holding her gaze. “You aren’t going to fucking lose me. Swear it on my goddamn life.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Her eyes narrowed, the chew of her mouth turning her lips red, and Ben knew he hadn’t gotten out of this so easy. He wasn’t sure why he’d even fucking bothered. “I’m not fucking losing you to something so stupid, Benjamin, so promise me-“

“No.”

She shoved at his chest. “God fucking dammit, you asshole, just promise me-“

“I am not making you a promise I don’t intend on keeping,” he snapped, catching Her hands. “If Edgar asks me to kill Butcher, right fucking there, I’m doing it. But you will not lose me.”

Why? Her voice was strangled in his head, and Ben felt an ache around his skull. You don’t have to do what Edgar tells you, he’s can’t hurt you-

Ben's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to hold Her sad gaze. He can hurt you. I’m not going to fucking let him hurt you.

He won’t hurt me, Ben. She blinked at him, tilting Her head. He can’t hurt me.

He’ll try-

And he won’t succeed. She gave him a small smile. I’m okay. I’m not losing you either, Pretty Boy.

Ben scowled. It’s a fuck ton more complicated than that-

It’s not. You burn, I burn. She leaned up, kissing Ben’s cheek and pressing her brow to his. Please don’t be a fucking dummy and promise me you’ll draw a line with Edgar.

He scanned Her gentle face, and loved Her even fucking more. Ben got to draw the line. She never misused words—everything she said was carefully calculated and designed, every word stupid deliberate and impossibly weighted—and she was making sure Ben knew she trusted his judgment. That no matter what the team told them, it would be Ben’s call what to do, and She’d stand with him. It was insufferable, how understanding and kind She was, even as she was being a pain in his goddamn ass.

I’ll draw a line. He kissed the top of Her head, and her heartbeat slowed. Swear it.

Thank you. She sighed. I love you, you huge fucking dumb dumb.

I love you too, brat.

She pulled back, giving Ben a smile that was so fucking happy and comfortable it made the whole goddamn world a little easier. It was a little insane, how Her loving him and smiling at him and linking their arms together—dragging him back to their apartment—made Ben’s whole fucking life better. How over the past four days—biding time until Singer got off his fucking ass to give them some V or Mallory got the meeting with Edgar set up—Ben had never been fucking happier. He didn’t know it was possible to be this happy. This was the type of fucking high he’d been chasing his whole goddamn life, and now it was in him.

He could feel it now. She’d insisted on running test after fucking test of their own, telling Ben—with sharp, pretty eyes and a pout that made him want to eat Her—that they needed to figure out how to use this properly. He’d argued that they’d just fucking work it out through trial and error, because it wasn’t like this was a goddamn emergency. They were immortal, they had all the time in the fucking world to work out how this brain bond shit worked. She’d told him that was fucking dumb, but if he need an incentive, She’d let Ben fuck her right after they finished every test as a reward for good behavior.

She’d have let him do that anyway, and they both fucking knew it. Between how She’d been squirming under him in the mornings, climbing on top of him every night, and had almost tackled him to the floor after he’d finished training with Ryan, Ben was starting to think she was hornier than he was. It was fucking impressive, how She didn’t ever seem satiated. She was satisfied, always smiling at him after with glazed, fucked-out eyes that made Ben almost goddamn explode with pride—he’d done that, she was so beautiful and content and blissful under Ben because Her loved her, so he’d worshipped her and touched her right—but she was never satiated. She watched Ben at the dinner table like she’d been wandering the desert for a thousand fucking year and he was oasis, before dragging him into one of the goddamn dining hall bathrooms, dropping to Her knees, and moaning as she wrapped her lips around his cock.

He fucking loved Her. And he’d never be sure how he’d gotten so goddamn lucky, that She loved him. So Ben had agreed to Her terms, and used them to his best fucking advantage. She’d made them stand on opposite ends of the compound to test if there was a distance limit—there wasn’t—and Ben had fucked Her against the door of their apartment. She’d made them sit across from each other and practice selection of what thoughts they shared—it was purposeful, and Ben wasn’t sure how, but he was able to share and withhold thoughts like lowering or raising his voice—and he’d fucked Her on the table.

And, though he’d never fucking admit it to Her, but the more they tested the connection, the more Ben could feel it. More than just a pure instinct of Her, Her, Her, pounding in his chest and guiding his heartbeat, but something fucking tangible. When they’d started the pigeon test—she also could never fucking know Ben had called it that—there had been a strange feeling of go. Something good is calling you forward, so follow it, in Ben, so he’d done just that. It hadn’t wavered or faded in and out, only grown stronger and stronger the closer he’d gotten, and it had felt like home. It had been a magnet, carving out a path he couldn’t see but still understood, singing a bright, powerful song in his head that had been reduced to a hum when he’d found Her. A natural, steady hum that was in key with Her heart, and ran through Ben’s mind whenever he was awake.

There wasn’t any other fucking way to put it. It was Her, it felt sharp and infinite and alight and Her. It blossomed whenever She touched Ben, and left something sweet that lingered on his tongue all the time.

And there hadn’t been a fucking chance he was going to describe it to the team like that.

She’d explained the connection a few nights over dinner, looking to Frenchie for confirmation on the science shit and letting Ben sit—rigid with Her tucked perfectly against him—in silence while she handled questions.

“What the fuck you mean you planted yourself in Soldier Boy?” MM had snapped, shaking his head like they hadn’t all seen much weirder fucking shit over their lives. “Did you put a parasite in him-“

“She’s not a fucking parasite,” Ben had grunted, and shot MM a glare. “It’s just her brain in me, you dumb cock-head-“

“The fuck did you just call me-“

“Ladies,” Butcher had drawled, looking between MM and Ben with narrowed eyes. “You’re both real fuckin pretty, and your balls are massive, but can we answer some real fuckin questions? Like if we,” he’d gestured around the rest of the table. “Are all in danger of gettin a fuckin Anomaly brain infection. No offense, Love, but I’ll shoot my skull in before I feel you all the bleedin time-“

She’d given Butcher a flat look. “There’s literally no way for me to not take offense to that, but no. You don’t have to worry about that. Frenchie said it was surprising it even happened once.”

“It is fucking bananas,” Frenchie had nodded in agreement. “I would even call it batshit crazy-“

“We get it, Mate, don’t need to worry-“

“I have a question.” Hughie had blurted over Butcher, face red as he made an apologetic flinch. “What does, um, feeling each other mean? Like, is it in your head, or physical-“

“It’s both,” She’d shrugged. “It’s sort of an additional sense, I guess. Like I can hear and taste and smell and Ben. It just is. Sorry, I know that’s not helpful, but-“

“And pathetically fuckin sappy-“

“Shut it, Butcher.” She’d shot the man a glare, before turning back to Hughie with a shrug. “It’s all I can offer. I mean,” She’d paused, voice resuming in Ben’s head. Do you want to try to describe it?

Fuck no.

Ben had seen Her lips twitch with a laugh, and counted it as a triumph as she’d resumed. “Sorry, yeah. That's all I’ve got.”

There had been other questions. A truly stupid amount of them, for a bunch of people who were in no way actually fucking part of this. It was for Her and Ben, this connection, and not a single other pussy fucker on the planet. This was about how She curled on his lap every night when they watched TV, making mumbled comments and jokes as Ben traced patterns on her skin, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was about how she kept smiling at him, all fucking day, and Ben got to dance her around their kitchen until she was all pretty and flushed in his arms. How they were still showering together, but now it ended with Ben pushing her against the tile, kissing her neck as he seated himself deep in her pretty cunt and her moans mixed with the steam. How there were still tears and screams in the dead of night that woke Ben up, the scorching heat twisting his skin, but She came down quickly and never tried to tell him that it didn’t matter, or made any attempts to fucking apologize to him.

This was about how Ben could feel Her pain as she sobbed in his arms, and it was grueling and fucking horrible—freezing his blood and lungs and mind to a white-hot fever, running through some deep part of Ben’s head and making something snap around in his gut—but when it faded Ben could hear the steady sound of Her heart and kiss the top of Her head, let her fall asleep with a soft sigh. Her perfect face peace, buried against his chest, and her body relaxed into his. It was about how—for all that fucking torture as the cracks he could feel in Her closed—he also got to feel the best parts of Her. Ben got to watch Her grow wrecked under his touch, feel her nails dig into his skin and listen to her pleas and moans and whine, and feel it. Feel the way She loved him, how he was fucking everything to her. Her love made Ben feel eternal and strong and so fucking alive. It made something in him light up, how this was all them. It was all just Her, scratching his back and moaning his name and looking at Ben like he was good.

It was about how Ben fucking believed it. How, when she smiled at him and teased him and loved him, Ben thought he might be good. That he wasn’t just not Homelander, not Butcher, not a complete fucking waste and failure, but good.

“Do you think we have a movie theater as well?” She was looking up at Ben as they walked, and he frowned.

“We fucking might, at the rate these damn things are popping up. Christ, what the fuck do we need a garden for, they feed us.”

“Seems to make MM happy,” She shrugged. “And gardening can just be to like, relax. I wouldn’t have thought gardening would relax MM-“

“Because he’s a fucking man-“

“Because he’s OCD, dumbass.” She slapped his arm, and Ben scowled. “Gardens are mostly dirt, and dirt is full of, well, dirt. It’s not exactly hygienic. And men can garden, Pretty Boy. You can grow some very masculine potatoes.”

“If you’re about to try and talk me into fucking gardening with you-“

“Not a chance in hell,” She wrinkled her nose at the air. “My mom used to try and make me garden, it was awful. You get all sweaty and dirty, and then you have to wait for months just to pull a sad little carrot out of the ground. Pass.”

“Maybe we should try gardening,” Ben winked at Her, tugging her closer into his side. “I like you all sweaty and dirty, and my carrot isn’t sad or little. It’s huge, and all fucking yours.”

“Shut the fuck up,” She mumbled, trying to hide her perfect flush in Ben’s chest, letting him guide their steps. “Horny cunt.”

Ben leaned down to whisper in Her ear, smirking at the shiver of her spine under his hand. “I think you’ve got the horny cunt, Sunshine. I think you’re already fucking hot and wet, just thinking about how I’m going to fuck you when we get home. Want me to tell you what we’re doing, or you want it to be a surprise?”

She made a small sound, muffled against Ben’s body. Highlights, please.

Of course, my love. That got a high whine, and Ben grinned. Every single fucking time he called her that, the reaction got better. A part of him wanted to see if he could say that in the right tone, at the right moment, and make Her cum on the spot. I’m thinking I fuck you fast. Rough and hard, until we break the fucking bed. I’ll eat you out first, have to take care of you, see if we can finally get you to fucking squirt all over my face, but then I’m going to fucking split you open on my cock. Make your pretty eyes roll back in your damn head, see if I can get you so fucked out you forget your own goddamn name.

She swallowed, leaning further into his body. That it?

He snorted. You want more? So desperate for me that my tongue and cock aren’t enough? Need my fucking hands as well?

Yes.

Who’s fucking horny now-

Shut up, you have nice hands.

Ben grinned. What about my hands do you like, Sunshine?

Fuck you.

Tell me about my hands, and I’ll fuck you till you can’t damn walk.

She sighed against him. They’re big. And rough. And strong. And, fuck- Ben had started to trace his finger over Her collarbone, and smirked as she moaned into him. You’re such a fucking asshole-

Finish telling me about my hands, beautiful. You imagining them inside your pussy? In your mouth? Rubbing on your clit until you make that perfect fucking whine when you cum-

Ben-

Want me to make you all sweaty and dirty with just my fucking fingers? Want them to fuck you until you’re squeezing around me-

Fuck, Ben, you dick-

You are inpatient, Ben chuckled as she started to tug at his shirt. Of course you hate fucking gardening, you love me and you’re calling me a cunt for just damn teasing you. Can’t imagine what you’d do to something you hate, like a slow fucking plant that won’t grow-

I don’t hate plants, Her voice was breathless in Ben’s head, and her heartbeat was so fast it might burst right out of her chest. I like flowers.

Ben made a note—filed in the part of his mind that was completely designated for Her, caring about her and tending to her and loving her—to ask MM to start planting flowers in his pathetic little garden. If MM said no, Ben added some ideas for graphic threats that he—probably—wouldn’t actually follow through on. He’d have to do it later though, because right now She was half slumped against his body, breath heavy and hot on his skin, and they were right in front of their apartment door.

She fumbled with the keycard, and Ben pulled her through the door before it was even half fucking open. She gave a squeal as he hauled her up in his arms, and they were upstairs before the door was even fucking closed behind them.

He’d seen the clock on the stove. They now had an hour until the meeting, and Ben was going to make the fucking most of it. He’d been planning on having them do some training—practicing some punches and working on Her fire until she made a smart fucking comment and he’d pin her under him and fuck her until she was drooling—but now he had to prioritize. They’d been training every goddamn day, and Ben had made himself hard from teasing her, so he made the call that fucking Her was a whole lot more important.

They didn’t make it to the bed. The door slammed behind them, She started squirming in Ben’s arms, and he turned them around to push Her against the wall.

Ben dropped his head to the crook of Her neck, biting and sucking at that spot on her neck, blinding grabbing at her jeans to rip them away.

“Want me to fuck you with my fingers first?” Ben said Her name, grinning against her as she moaned, starting to grind on his torso. “Use my hands like you’ve fucking fantasized about? Fill you up-”

“I have not fucking fantasized-“

Ben shoved his hand between Her legs, running two fingers over her pussy as he kissed along her collarbone. Liar.

Fuck you-

Tell me all the things you’ve wanted me to do with my hands, beautiful. Tell me how to fuck you.

I, fuck, She took a ragged breath, and Ben’s hand stilled over her, pressing against her warm cunt with no friction. Want you to tease me.

Ben smirked, and resumed his movements. Careful strokes over the wet spot on her underwear, light touches up and down until she was soaked through the fabric. Keep going, Sunshine. I’ve got you.

Ben-

Tell me what you want.

Please-

He stopped moving again. Words, my love.

She whined, throwing her head back as Ben nipped at a pulse point. I, God, I want you to play with my clit until I’m close, then finger fuck me until I scream.

He hummed, gliding his hand over Her clit, flicking it once, then resting his hand at the hem of her panties. That it?

You fucking asshole-

Ben grunted Her name, aloud against her skin, and she moaned.

Fuck, I, good. Call me good, please, Ben, fuck-

He didn’t waste another goddamn second. Ben pushed his hand under Her underwear and pressed two fingers against her clit, rubbing slow, large circles. Was that so fucking hard?

You dick, fuck, Ben-

My dick is hard as well, Ben angled his hips up, pressing his erection against Her core and smirking at the whimper that escaped her throat. But you just look so fucking good, all wrecked on my hand. Gets me fucking going, when you say my name-

Ben-

He groaned on her skin, and tore off her panties, slapping her dripping pussy once before running his thumb over her clit, dropping it to trace between her folds, over her slit. Good, beautiful, just like that.

She made a loud, strangled sound and Ben chuckled, rubbing his palm against her, faster and faster until she was panting, clawing at his neck.

So fucking good. Love how fucking wet you get, love how you sound, Christ, I fucking love you-

Please, close-

Ben pushed two fingers in Her at once, and started to pump as fast as he fucking could. Her pussy was contracting around him already, her arms around his neck loose, and when Ben pulled his head up to meet her eyes, She looked fucking ruined. Eyes unfocused and fluttering, pretty lips parted with tiny moans, whole face slack with pleasure. She was so fucking perfect, so fucking beautiful, a goddamn work of art-

Benjamin, Her head dropped forward, nose bumping with his as her lips brushed across his beard. You, need you, need to cum-

Scream, beautiful. You’ll have to fucking scream-

Ben almost came in his fucking pants when—just as his fingers hit the deepest part of Her—She let out a deafening, high and needy scream of his name.

“Good girl,” his voice was hoarse, and Her hands were tugging at his head, trying to move his mouth to hers. “Want to cum?”

“Please-“ Ben slammed Her head back to the wall with a bruising kiss, and she moaned down his throat. God, yes, Ben-

He scissored his fingers in Her pussy, pressing on that button inside her, and groaned as she dribbled down his palm, the most sinfully wet sounds echoing in his head as he fucked her through her release, only drawing away when she gave an airy, happy sigh.

Ben looked down, between their bodies, and examined his hand. “Closer.”

“That one wasn’t even that small-”

“You can do more,” he grunted, reaching up to press his thumb against Her lips, smirking at soft whine that escaped her. “Taste.”

She opened for him, and Ben felt his jaw clench when her tongue ran over him, sucking long and hard, humming around his fingers in her mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he shook his head as she pulled off of him with a pop. “You’re perfect. Fucking love you-“

Ben groaned as she leaned forwards, hands curling on his head as she kissed him. Long and rough, and he could fucking taste Her in her own mouth. Proper fucking pussy, the best thing in the goddamn world, all Her, and what Ben fucking did to her.

They pulled apart with quick, uneven breaths, and Ben felt something soft and bright swell through his chest at She smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Hi, Sunshine.”

“That was,” she took a deep, slightly ragged breath, and Ben could hear Her heart, still running in her chest. “Fuck.”

He snorted. “I know. You like me calling you good girl, huh.” Ben winked at Her. “That do it for you more than brat?”

She whacked his arm. “Shut up, Mr. Say My Name and Beg.”

“You like fucking begging-“

“And you like calling me a good girl. And brat.” She ground against him, and Ben hissed as she rubbed right over his cock, straining through his pants. “Want some help with that, Pretty Boy?”

Ben didn’t need to be asked twice. He didn’t really fucking care for these pants anyways, and certainly wasn’t going to mourn them after he ripped them off his body—boxers gone in the same movement—and angled himself against Her.

She gasped—nails digging into his skin and eyes wide—as Ben ran his cock between her still dripping pussy, holding Her gaze. “Want me to fuck you, beautiful? Want to get my dick all fucking wet in your pretty cunt? Make you fucking scream again?”

Yes, please, fuck yes-

He bite Her lip as he pushed into her, eating her moan and squeezing her perfect fucking ass until she was melted against him. Until Her body was fucking falling forward, letting Ben support her carefully against the wall as he bottomed out. He couldn’t move yet. She kept goddamn squeezing him, and all her moans were rolling down his throat, so if Ben started moving now he wouldn’t fucking last.

Relax, he grunted Her name in his head, and she whimpered. Need you to fucking relax, my love-

She squirmed around him, and Ben groaned, pushing her further against the wall.

Christ, Sunshine, you’re going to fucking kill me-

Ben, please, just move-

He took a long breath, pulling Her tongue between his teeth and smirking at her moan. Not until you fucking behave and stop moving, brat. Be fucking good for me-

It was amazing how fast She listened. Every bit of tension left her body as she relaxed against him, her heart running out of Her chest, and when all her love pushed into Ben’s body it was like he’d been fucking shot. Everything in his body became boundless, and the world felt sharp and safe and warm. Everything was Her, wrapped around him and fucking perfect.

Please, Her voice in Ben's head came in time with a soft, small, needy sound that fell from her lips. Fuck me.

He swallowed, kissing her once, gentle and careful to ground himself in Her body. Want it fast, beautiful? Want to me to fucking break you, make your knees fucking weak, make you fucking dizzy-

God, yes-

Ben couldn’t deny Her if he tried. Not when She was molded against him like she belonged there—which she fucking did—or when she was so fucking beautiful. Not when She loved him like this, and he got to fucking feel it. So he braced an arm against the wall, pushing her further up his body, and started ramming himself into her with a fucking purpose.

He’d known he could die like this for a while. Go fucking insane from how beautiful she was, how She touched him and moaned Benjamin in his ear. He’d been real fucking certain that She’d be the end of him, of his fucking sanity, and that he was more than goddamn okay with it.

He still hadn’t fully anticipated just how correct he’d been. How, when she threw Her head back and whined, when she started to roll Her hips around Ben’s cock and a hazy, golden smoke started to fill the room around them, he felt like he’d found fucking heaven.

“Like that?” He grunted Her name in her ear, emphasizing every word with another rough thrust of his hips into her. “Tell me how it feels, how much you fucking love my cock wrecking your perfect fucking pussy-“

Ben, fuck-

“Aloud,” he sucked on Her low lip, drawing one of those perfect fucking whines from her throat. “Use all your smart fucking words, beautiful, talk to me-“

“Feels good,” Her words were choked, breathed into Ben’s mouth. “Feels so good, you’re so fucking big, feel so full-“

“Like being full of me?” He muttered, giving her ass a gentle slap, and she nodded frantically against him. “Think you can be real fucking good for me, fucking drench my cock, fucking squeeze me-“

She moaned, cunt tightening around him, and Ben almost fucking lost it.

“Good girl,” he growled Her name, smirking at Her whimper. “You’re real fucking closer, aren’t you. Ready to fucking cum, darling?”

“Fuck,” She gasped, and Ben leaned back to see her fucking glowing. Burning and burning without flame, Her love coiling tight in his gut as she watched him with pretty, glossy eyes. “Close, Ben, I’m close, need more-“

“I know, can fucking feel it.” Ben grunted, dropping his head to Her shoulder as he started to lose control, but fuck she was perfect, felt like fucking paradise around him, moaning his name all desperate and fucking loving him, and fuck-

“Please, Ben-“

He groaned, tracing his tongue over her teeth, and felt release slam into him like a goddamn train. She screamed again—fucking screamed, loud and desperate and perfect—and Ben almost fell over as Her own orgasm pushed his further. Everything was blinding, his vision growing blurred as he twitched inside of her, holding her carefully until they both came down.

She hummed softly in his ear. “Darling?”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say it was bad.” Ben pulled back to glower at Her, and found her pouting at him, light dancing in her eyes. “I liked it.”

He nodded slowly—adding darling to growing list of things he, and not a single other fucking person, got to call Her—and looked to where he was still sheathed inside Her. “You didn’t squirt.”

She shrugged. “I don’t always squirt, and it usually requires some clit stimu- Fuck-“

Ben had pressed his thumb over Her, rubbing small circles and examining her perfect features. “That better?”

“We,” Her breath hitched as Ben moved faster, and he chuckled at her glare. “Benjamin, we’ve got the, fuck, we’ve got the meeting-“

“They can wait-“

The door slammed downstairs, and Ben’s body moved faster than his brain. Pulling himself out Her, tossing her—carefully, but quickly—onto the bed, and ducking down to grab his gun from under the mattress.

“Ben, slow down-“

“Stay there,” he snapped, shooting Her a glare as she started to scoot off the bed. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“You are not my boss, you cunt-“

He didn’t have the fucking time to argue. Whoever was in their apartment—heavy steps, even, almost lazy heartbeat—had climbed upstairs, moving closer to their room. Ben drew up, pointed a finger at her, fucking stay, and raised his gun.

Benjamin, you paranoid asshole-

He yanked the door open, clicking the safety off, and slammed the door behind him as he stepped into the hall.

“Bloody Christ, Gov, where the fuckin hell are you trousers?!”

Ben looked Butcher up and down, and lowered his gun with a scowl. “Why are you in my house.”

Not a house, Pretty Boy. And I fucking told you-

Shut the fuck up. He paused, hearing Her shuffle around in the bedroom. What are you doing.

Getting dressed.

I told you to fucking stay-

It’s just Butcher-

And we don’t know why the hell he’s here-

“Oi,” Butcher gave Ben a sarcastic wave. “I can see your fuckin semi, mate, stop sending each other nudes and bloody pay attention-“

The door opened behind Ben, and She stopped at Ben’s side with her arms crossed, frowning between him and Butcher. “We weren’t sending each other nudes, Butcher. Answer Ben’s question, why are you here.”

Butcher looked Her up and down—her lips still slightly swollen, face still flushed, and her shirt, Ben’s shirt, inside out—and smirked. “I’m sorry Love, was I fuckin interrupting somethin-“

“Yes-“

She stomped on Ben’s foot, Shut up, and glared at Butcher. “Not your business-“

“It’s my business if Soldier Boy’s flashin me his half-hard dick-“

She sighed, side-stepping in front of Ben, blocking him from Buchter’s view. “Tell us what the fuck you’re doing here.”

Butcher scowled. “We’re takin off now. Need you twats at the elevator in five.”

She blinked. “What about the briefing-“

“Mallory fucked up. Got the wrong time for Edgar’s transport. He’s gettin there at 2, not leavin from the fuckin penitentiary.”

“Oh, shit,” She swallowed, and Ben heard the tapping begin. “We’re supposed to be there before him-“

“So we’re leavin now. Get some bloody pants on your fuckin idiot, and meet me at the elevator.”

She nodded, not bothering to say goodbye to Butcher as she grabbed Ben’s arm and tugged him back into the bedroom.

When the door closed behind them, She marched over to the dresser and fucking chucked Ben’s supe suit at his face.

“What’s wrong with you-“

“Nothing.”

Ben scowled. “You’re lying,” he grunted Her name, watching her take off his shirt and flip it to the right side. “Your going to fucking bite through your mouth, and won’t goddamn look at me-“

“That’s because you’re being an asshole.” She snapped. “You are not my boss, Benjamin, and I am not a child-“

“What the fuck are you talking about-“

She turned to him with a look that almost made Ben flinch. “I love you, and I trust you with my life, but you are not allowed to tell me what and what not to do. I’m fucking serious, Ben, I can take care of myself-”

“But you don’t,” he held Her glare, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t fucking take care of yourself, and I’m not losing you again-“

“I keep telling you’re not going to lose me.” She sighed, and a flash of something sore and sour and rotten ran through Ben’s body. “I just, can you please fucking trust me? I’ve got a handle on my fire, and Homelander doesn’t even know where I am. I’m okay. I’m really okay.”

Ben’s fists curled at his sides, and he scanned over Her face. Her gaze was sharp, edged with something hot and pained, but her heart was even. And he didn’t feel sick. He felt a little fucking bitter, that rotten feeling growing, but Ben didn’t feel like something was wrong. Fundamentally wrong. She was fine.

“Fine.” He grunted, picking up his shield from the door and extending his hand for Her to hold. A silent gesture of peace that, fuck him, he goddamn needed Her to take. If she didn’t, he’d probably spend the whole stupid fucking meeting with Edgar trying to figure out how to make this shit up to her.

She tilted Her head at him, examining Ben for the longest fucking minute of his life. I do love you, Benjamin. You’re just an overprotective dick sometimes.

I know. He gave a small nod, and flexed his outstretched hand. I love you too.

Her smile was soft, and something loosened around Ben’s lungs when her fingers folded through his. She was wearing the sunglasses on her brow, so Ben had lean over her slightly to kiss the top of her head and coax a small, easy sigh from her pretty mouth.

Ready? She let Ben loop his arm over her shoulders, and he pulled her—safe and content and perfect—into his side.

I was damn born it. He winked down at Her, and everything got a little better when she grinned back. Let’s feed Edgar his own fucking balls.

Gross, Ben. Her nose wrinkled at him, but a small giggle escaped her throat, and she was letting Ben guide her downstairs, out the door.

His body was relaxed, eased by Her presence at his side, but Ben still felt fucking sore. As She and Butcher exchanged short words about the drive and plan before they stepped into an incredibly fucking awkward elevator ride, Ben’s head was circling around Her words.

You’re not going to lose me.

He wouldn’t fucking lose Her. That wasn’t even in the goddamn cards. Ben wouldn’t lose Her because of his sheer fucking dedication. Because if Homelander came for her again, Ben would beat his fucking face bloody and raw, make him beg for mercy and offer none. He did trust Her, but that wasn’t the issue here. No matter what She said about the tower or the Believe Expo, Ben had still lost Her. Left Her alone. She’d been put in danger because he’d failed, and stayed in danger because nobody was willing to step the fuck up and protect Her.

She’d never be in that godawful fucking position again. Ever. Ben would never let Her break and crack under Homelander’s hands, never make her fight on the front fucking lines alone. Ben wouldn’t lose Her because he’d resolved not to. And now he had to figure out where the line was between protecting Her, caring for Her, never, ever fucking hurting Her and respecting that She was, and always fucking would be, a piece of work.

He loved that She was a piece of work. She was a shattered, marred, clever fucking menace and threat to Ben’s sanity, and every part of Her fit perfectly in with him. He wouldn’t want to love someone who was boring. Who didn’t smack him and yell at him and match his every step without even breaking pace or falling behind. Fuck, sometimes Ben couldn’t keep up with Her. He had the time of his goddamn trying to, and loved Her at every bullet the world shot at them, every hurdle they had to burn through, together.

But Ben wouldn’t let Her stubborn, perfect fucking ass take her away from him. If She walked away, left Ben a million steps behind and took off to where he couldn’t follow, he’d find a way to keep living. He had to keep telling himself that, because he’d technically fucking lived before Her. A hundred goddamn years.

He didn’t want to live without Her, though. Not when he could feel Her like a crown on his head. Something beautiful and perfect that had chosen to stay within him, that he had to keep safe. Wrapped around him, resting within him, curled into his side in the backseat of Butcher’s car as they violated several traffic laws. She was relaxed and warm and happy in his arms, leaning Her head on his chest and turning his fingers over in her hands, and Ben didn’t ever want to live without this again. Ben couldn’t ever really breathe again—not in a way that fucking mattered—if he lost Her because he’d made the part of her that lived in him wither and die. He’d live, but he wouldn’t breathe.

And if he lost Her because of another fucking failure, the world wouldn’t survive his wrath. Ben wouldn’t survive it.

So he had to find the fucking line.

The safe house looked the same. Ben wasn’t exactly sure what the fuck he’d been expecting—it wasn’t like the CIA was going to budget a new paint job—but it was still deceptively suburban, generic, and easily ignorable.

“Huh,” She mumbled, looking around the street with a frown as Ben helped her out of the car. “This is weird.”

Ben grunted an agreement, half draping his body over hers. If it’s too weird, we can just fucking go home-

She gave him a flat look. We’re already here, Benjamin. And Butcher won’t let us get away that easily.

I’ll hot wire his stupid fucking car, all you’ll have to do is stand guard and punch him if he gets to close-

I am not punching Butcher. She stuck her tongue out at him. Head in the game, Pretty Boy. We’ve got an old man to wine and dine.

He snorted, and let Her pull him to the door, where Butcher was waiting with a scowl.

“Takin our sweet fuckin time, ain’t we-“

“Shut up and open the door, Butcher.” She snapped, ignoring Ben’s pointed smirk and not punching Butcher. “We can’t be outside for too long.”

Butcher rolled his eyes, but entered the code—same one as before, which was probably some sort of security risk that Ben couldn’t be fucked to point out—and pushed the door open.

Neuman was waiting for them in the hall with crossed arms and a glare. “You’re late.”

“Blame Mallory, Vicky-“

“Don’t call me that.” Neuman cut Butcher’s sneer off with sharp words, attention turning to Her and Ben. Ben got a short nod and mutter of, “Soldier Boy,” and She got a tight smile, and less venomous greeting of Her name. “I suppose you two are to blame for Zoe and I not having a dining room?”

She flushed. “Sorry. We used to use it for training-“

“And not the living room?”

“Not enough space,” She mumbled with a shrug. “And we’d already broken most of the chairs. It felt like a good idea at the time-“

“It was a good fucking idea.” Ben snapped, shooting Neuman a glare. “She’s a fuck ton stronger now, and it’s not like the CIA pussies can’t just buy more goddamn chairs-“

“Can we try to keep you asshole’s trademark swearing to a minimum?” Neuman snapped. “Zoe’s upstairs-“

Butcher scoffed. “You ain’t able to ask us to stop swearing and call us assholes in the same bloody sentence, and then expect us to listen-“

“Just,” Neuman sighed, shaking her head. “Tone it down. No pussies or cunts or bitches-“

She raised Her hand. “Is shit still on the table?”

“Does it have to be-“

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.“

Neuman frowned, looking their group over, and gave a curt nod. “Fine. Shit is allowed, along with minimal assholes and fucks. I would say use your best judgment, but you’re all idiots.”

Butcher frowned. “Oi-“

“Actually, I amend that.” Neuman pointed at Her, still pressed into Ben’s side. “She’s smart. You two,” She glared between Ben and Butcher. “Are dumbasses.”

She leaned back, grinning up at Ben. Take that, Pretty Boy. I’m the smart one.

I could’ve fucking told you that-

“Are we just gonna be fuckin standin here until Edgar comes knockin, or are you gonna let us out of the hall?”

Nueman rolled her eyes—with a mutter under her breath of asshole that only Ben heard—but nodded. “Follow me, I turned the spare bedroom into an office. It has chairs,” Ben and Her received sharp glares, and Ben sent one right fucking back. “So we’ll be meeting Stan there.”

Apparently, Neuman’s spare bedroom wasn’t the same as Her and Ben’s spare bedroom. Their spare bedroom was currently Zoe’s, and Neuman had taken Her room—it had become Ben’s as well, but that wasn’t really important to point out right now—which meant that the office was Ben’s old room.

It looked clean, and he couldn’t smell any lingering cum, so Ben figured he was in the clear as they settled around a small table. Ben squished himself at Her side, Butcher took the head, and Nueman dropped across from them with a frown.

“So.” Neuman watched them carefully, voice clipped. “Is anyone going to tell what’s going on outside of Mallory’s very helpful you’re hosting Stan Edgar for the Boys, non-negotiable?”

She sighed, finger’s tapping against Ben’s knee as she spoke. “We made a deal with Edgar for evidence of what Homelander did to me-“

“I remember,” Neuman’s voice was dry, expression flat. “I thought blasting Zoe and I was the deal with Edgar. What, are you here to finish the job with all three of us?”

“No,” She mumbled, and Ben pulled her a little closer against him. Neuman noticed—eyes flicking with a frown to his arm over Her shoulder—and he felt his jaw clench. “I’m sorry about that, really, but we were backed into a corner-“

Neuman shook her head, gaze moving back to Her. “I know. I’m mostly just being a bitch about it, but I think I’ve earned that.”

“I thought bitch ain’t allowed in the kiddie zone-“

“I can say whatever the fuck I want, Butcher.” Neuman snapped. “You’re a guest in my house, and, from what I understand, you don’t have to be here for the meeting. Be quiet, or wait in the car.”

“You ain’t gonna want to do that, head-popper.” Butcher drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Those two cunts will start fuckin on the table if I ain’t here to stop ‘em.”

“Stop calling me head-popper, I’m not-“ Neuman paused, head snapping the Her and Ben. “What does he mean you two will fuck on the table.”

“We won’t fuck on the table,” She shot Butcher a glare, and the pussy winked back. “We have self-control Butcher, I think we can keep from jumping on each other for a few hours-“

“Tell that to Soldier Boy’s fuckin boner in my face-“

“You were in our apartment, that’s where sex happens-“

“Holy shit,” Neuman shook her head, voice filled with a disbelief that Ben did not fucking appreciate. “Are you two dating?”

“Um, we haven’t-“

“Yes.” Ben snapped, and felt a warm, strong feeling explode across his ribs as She swallowed, but didn’t correct him. “You’ve got a fucking problem with that?”

“I mean,” Neuman gave a sarcastic, incredulous laugh. “Yes? Even if you ignore the whole age thing, you’re Homelander’s dad-“ She paused, looking at Butcher. “How did you let this happen?”

Butcher shrugged. “Ain’t a night gone by where I don’t ask myself that, but you adjust. Better than when they were by their bloody fuckin selves, and once you get over how gross they get, fuckin in the bathroom and makin heart eyes-”

“Can you stop talking about us like we’re not here?” She snapped, leaning out of Ben’s hold just enough to glare between Neuman and Butcher. She looked murderous. Ben loved Her so fucking much. “I am aware, Neuman, of how fucked up it is. But I’m also about to meet with the adoptive father of the woman I blasted with my,” She paused, and Ben caught the split second frown that crossed Her perfect face, before vanishing as she continued. “Ben’s bomb, which was put in him by Russian scientists after he was sold to them by the same man we’re about to have lunch with. Over lunch, we’re going to talk about the favor we owe Edgar for providing evidence of my rape and torture to prove to Ben’s grandson that his dad is a piece of shit. Also, that asshole,” She jerked her head at Butcher, and he shrugged. “Is the step-father of Ben’s grandson. Side-note, Ben did try to kill his grandson once, but everyone is kind of over it. We’ve all tried to kill each other at least once, it keeps life exciting.” She took a heavy breath, holding Nueman’s gaze. “So, with that in perspective, being in love with a hundred year old grump, who loves me back and treats me well, isn’t really that big a deal, right?”

She loved Ben. That warmth spread through his whole body—growing bloody and hot from how he did fucking love Her, he did fucking treat her well—as he gave Neuman a smug grin. She loved him. He’d never get tired of hearing it, but every time She said it again it was like someone was shooting ecstasy right into his fucking body. He wanted to fuck Her. Butcher could suck Ben’s dick, because he loved Her and he needed to fucking prove it, to whisper adoring praise in her ears and hear her whine as he showed her how good she was. How fucking perfect and beautiful, how she was a goddamn force of nature and Ben would always fucking love Her. How, with Her face flushed—twisted in anger and sneering at Nueman—and her hands on his leg were starting to smoke, she was a fucking miracle and deserved the goddamn world-

Someone was knocking downstairs. It was terrible timing for Ben—who had been seconds away from finally fulfilling a handful of fantasies about fucking Her on the wall behind them, or on the bed Neuman had somehow turned into a damn couch—and amazing timing for Neuman, who was still gaping at Her with a dumb fucking look of surprise.

Neuman shot to her feet, giving Her a weary glance and walking in wide steps around Her and Ben’s chairs, muttering something about greeting Edgar, and checking on Zoe.

Butcher coughed. “I ain’t ever seen Neuman speechless before. Bloody good work, Love.”

“Shut the fuck up, Butcher,” She muttered, face falling to a look that Ben knew meant guilt.

He’d be fucked backwards if he was going to let her sit in it. No apologizing to Neuman, Sunshine. She doesn’t fucking deserve it.

I wasn’t going to. She looked up at Ben with pretty, gentle eyes and a soft smile. I meant everything I said, and I’d probably say it again. I just, I’m tired.

He frowned. If you need to go home, we can take Butcher’s car. I’ll knock him out and we’ll just go-

No. We’ve got to do this. I’ll be okay.

Ben grunted Her name in his head, scanning her features for some sort of fucking clue for how he could fix this. I’m fucking serious-

I know you are. She sighed, leaning back into Ben’s arms. So am I. I’ll be okay, promise.

He didn’t get to push it. She was okay—her heart was steady and Ben didn’t feel that sense of wrong that wracked his body when she was in pain—but Ben needed to know why she was tired. He needed to ask what she needed, why she was being so goddamn vague about it, maybe just remind Her that he loved her and would stay right fucking here until she needed him. He didn’t get the chance to do any of that, though, because footsteps sounded up the stairs, and Ben barely had time to tuck her further against him before Neuman was pushing the door open, and Edgar was following her into the room.

“Victoria,” Egdar hummed, surveying Ben, Her, and Butcher as he sat down. “I thought I was attending lunch with friends, not sitting at a table with William Butcher.”

“I’m part of the fuckin decor,” Butcher leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Pretend I ain’t even here.”

“Or, you could simply not be here. I am sure Zoe would be absolutely entranced by your adventures-“

“Do not go near my daughter,” Neuman snapped at Butcher, before turning to give Edgar an exasperated look. “Please just make this easy for me, Stan. I’m not exactly thrilled by it either.”

“I can promise I will not be the issue here. As for our company,” Edgar turned to give a snake-like smile to Her and Ben. “I hope we can all remain civil, but they are not known for their manners.”

“You can eat my civil fucking asshole-“

Ben cut himself off with a grunt as Her elbow slammed into his gut, and she shot him a glare before turning to Edgar. “We’ll be civil. Are you going to be a cryptic fucking James Bond villain?”

Edgar made a small huff of amusement. “I will do my best to make my intentions clear, but forgive me if there are gaps you’ll have to fill in for yourself.”

“Awesome,” She mumbled, heartbeat stuttering, and Ben pressed his thigh into hers, keeping his glare trained on Edgar. She took a slow, steady breath, and tilted her head at Edgar, voice bored and even. “So, Edgar, how was your day? Anything fun happen?”

She was playing the game. Ben glanced down at Her—sharp eyes, narrowed on Edgar and paired with a too sweet smile—and knew whatever the fuck She and Edgar were about to do was Her battlefield. If Homelander crashed through the roof, or the Deep crawled out from under the fucking bed somehow, Ben could take care of it. His shield was exactly a half step away, and he could call the drums in three seconds if he needed to. But right now, Edgar’s cold, skin crawling smile was spreading across his face—Neuman and Butcher silent in their seats—and this was Her place to tear Edgar’s still-beating heart out of his evil fucking chest.

Metaphorically. Ben was pretty damn sure it would be metaphorically.

“Well,” Edgar hummed, holding Her gaze. “I did get up earlier than I would have preferred, but there is only so much one can do in prison. However, I was able to get a fairly decent nap on the drive, even with the two brutes Grace sent watching my every move. And you? Any exciting news from the Merry Band of Savage Imbeciles?”

“Nothing I’d write home about, or share with you.” She shrugged. “MM has a garden, he’s growing cucamelons. I made twenty dollars on a bet with Frenchie that he couldn’t get Hughie to say a bad word about Billy Joel, and thirty dollars on a separate bet with Annie that I could switch my food with Frenchie’s while he was focused on Hughie, and nobody would notice. I’m going to buy some new underwear, all of my old ones,” She kicked Ben under the table. “Keep disappearing under suspicious circumstances.”

Ben coughed. I don’t see you fucking complaining-

I’m not. But don’t expect fancy wrapping paper when you’re just going to tear it off.

“And how are things between you and our beloved Benjamin? I called you quite early last week, and despite what he may think,” Edgar nodded at Ben. “I was able to hear your riveting argument and pillow talk.”

Ben was going to break Edgar’s fucking face. Slam it on the table, rip his heart in a way that wasn’t at all a damn metaphor-

“We’re good.” She gave Ben a smile of don’t kill him, it’ll be gross, and said, “He’s an idiot sometimes, but I love him.” She turned back to Edgar with narrowed eyes. “But something tells me you knew that.”

Edgar didn’t spare Ben a glance, giving Her an innocent shrug. “I had suspected for quiet a while that your relationship was no longer just business. I would be lying if I said I didn’t expect better from you, though-“

“You shouldn’t,” She shrugged. “I’m only a woman, Edgar. Look at his face, you’d have come around on him as well.”

Ben scowled as Edgar gave him an overdramatic once over. I am not a piece of fucking meat-

Yes, you are. You’re a very handsome, grumpy piece of meat whom I love very much.

I’m hot as fuck, Sunshine, but I did not come here to be talked about like a common fucking whore-

She kept her eyes on Edgar, but Ben could see her lips twitch up. Objectified, Benjamin. The word you're looking for is objectified.

I don’t give a fuck what word-

“And is it his sparkling, warm personality that makes you share his bed outside of disappearing underwear?”

Her face didn’t lose its amused, casual expression, but Her voice became venomous. “It really is. I have a lot of nightmares, Edgar, and he’s like a Teddy Bear.”

“It may only be the way he’s glaring at me,” Edgar’s voice was fucking bored, and Ben glared harder. More fucking violent, more furious, and maybe Edgar might just explode. “But I would have called him just a regular bear. Although I will acknowledge my bias, we have not been on the best of terms since his return from Russia.”

“Yeah, well.” She narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t call either of us your biggest fans. Forty years off his life, three off mine, overall we’re looking at about a combined 50% decrease in years of our lives where we weren’t being tortured. I’d glare as well, but Ben’s better at it.”

Edgar didn’t even goddamn flinch, just offering them a fake fucking simper. “He was unstable, a liability. I would make the same call again in a heartbeat, and not have a single regret. You, however,” Edgar looked Her over, and Ben heard the table crack under his fist. “I must offer my most sincere apologies. If I could’ve stepped in, I would have, but controlling Homelander is a delicate surgery, and sacrifices must be made. What happened to you was, is, tragic, but, as I have told you before, you are the greatest weapon I have ever seen. And I’d would like to strongly encourage you to take advantage of your gifts, so we can all be out of this circus before the fourth of July.”

Ben could feel the cracks in Her along his skull and twisting in his gut as She swallowed. I can just fucking kill him, and we’ll go home-

I’ve got this. Her voice was measured and smooth in his head, but Ben still felt fucking sick. She was leaning across the table, tilting Her head at Edgar with a glint in her eyes that would’ve made Ben fucking flinch, and her voice was syrupy. Slow, calculated, and fucking furious. “Do you know why I was at that Vought party, Edgar?”

“I am afraid not-“

“I was celebrating. I’d just gotten my PhD, that day, and I’d finished it in record time. I paid for it all myself, and it had been so much work, but I’d done it. I was officially a doctor. I already had offers from Columbia and Sanford, but I’d still scheduled a meeting with a rep from the UN on Monday. I’d been recommended to him by one of my favorite professors, so I was a shoe-in for the job, and I wanted it so bad. I’d get to travel the world and help people. Maybe I’d meet someone, and we’d settle down somewhere peaceful to have a family. My friends were proud of me, and one of them worked for your analytics team. She had an invite, to this real fucking fancy Vought party, and brought me as a plus one. She paid for my dress, and drove me home after I got drunk. She said, even though I’d started flirting with the bartender to try and get extra drinks when I got cut off, that I’d still managed to sing Moon River perfectly. Said I hit every note, and even Homelander looked impressed. I woke up in a cell the next day. Missed the meeting with the UN rep. Missed three years of my life, being locked up in the name of controlling Homelander. So I don’t want your apology, unless it’s that time back. Unless you can make Homelander un-kidnap me, fucking save it.”

The room was silent—even fucking Butcher had gone pale—and something was ringing in Ben’s ears and eating at his lungs. He hadn’t know that. He hadn’t know half that she’d been celebrating, or that she’d literally just gotten the fuckin degree. And it was rattling around inside him like a fucking bomb. This wasn’t Ben’s bomb, driven by drums and wrath and fury. This was Her, screaming in his head with a voice that was starting to grow raw and cracked.

Edgar looked surprised. Like She’d just shot him, but he’d manage to recover without thought. There wasn’t a hint of fear in his cold eyes, but there should be. He should be fucking shaking, because She was forgiving. The part of Her in Ben was wailing and twisting in pain, but she’d kept controlling every breath as her eyes glazed over, and the fabric of Ben’s suit under her hand started to blacken. She was angry, but clever and kind, so she wouldn’t kill Edgar.

Ben would. He’d do it for Her, because there wasn’t a single thing in the world worse than this fucking pain that Homelander had festered inside Her, planting fear in her like a goddamn parasite, and all Edgar had done was stand by and watch.

Now wasn’t the time to kill Edgar. His gaze was still locked with Hers, Ben merely an observer, but the moment the chance was offered he’d take it. Bash Edgar’s brains in on his shield, make him fucking hurt in repentance, then never let a single fucking pussy hurt Her again. All She’d be was loved, and Ben would hold Her against his body until all that fucking pain faded into something that ached, but didn’t burn.

Later. Now, Ben just had to squeeze Her hand, remind her that he’d never fucking lose her again, and stay at her side.

“May I ask,” Edgar’s voice was slow, like she’d exploded if he treated her like anything less than a feral fucking animal. “How you plan to make up for those three years in the infinite amount of time now available to you? I cannot offer the time you’ve lost back, but I imagine immortality will have its perks in the years to come.”

“Save the riddles, Edgar.” She snapped. “Tell me what you want.”

“I simply wish to know your plans for when this is over, should you emerge victorious. If Singer hands over the V, and you can outmaneuver Sister Sage and her gas, will you have a family with Soldier Boy? Travel the world? Perhaps both, or contract with the UN, maybe get a book deal? I’d like to hope peace for you, as a world without Homelander is an exciting prospect, but I don’t doubt there will be quite a mess to clean up after him. Will you be picking up a shovel, or leaving it to people such as myself?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yourself.”

“Indeed. I am well versed in handling the many insecurities and reckless behaviors of the super-abled. If my services to the clean up effort, when it comes, were needed-“

“Is this the favor?” She cut Edgar off with a glare, and Edgar chuckled.

“It is only an offer. I’ve found it is never too early to throw one’s hat in the ring.”

“Keep your hat,” She leaned back against Ben, and her breathing relaxed into a more easy, natural state. “We’ll pass.”

Edgar shrugged. “My hat will remain on the table indefinitely, and it will be there when you realize you need it. I suppose all that remains is business, though I was hoping to discuss official matters over lunch, Victoria.”

Neuman rolled her eyes. “The kitchen is downstairs, Stan. You’re not so old I have to walk with you.”

“When I do reach that age, I expect a nice retirement home.” Edgar gave Neuman a smile, and it might be the only genuine one Ben had ever seen on the man’s callous face. “Nothing with golf, I am afraid I never quite got the appeal.”

“I think prison will do that shit for her, Stanny.” Butcher grinned from across the table. “Government funded retirement. Comin right out of Neuman’s bloody paycheck either way.”

“It’s tax funded, asshat.” Neuman shot Butcher a glare. “And I’m not the Vice President anymore-“

“I ain’t an American, popper, not my fuckin problem-“

“I know you’re a dual citizen, you dick-“

Ben coughed—as loud as he fucking could—and all eyes turned to him. “The fuck do you want from us, Edgar. Now.”

“Well, Benjamin, I never pegged you as someone to be driven by urgency-“

“You ain’t ever pegged ‘im at all, he’d be a lot less fuckin uptight- Fuck!” Butcher’s mocking was cut off by a lick of flame, flying past his ear. “Bloody hell, Love, coulda takin my fuckin head off-“

“But I didn’t.” She shrugged. “Shut up and listen, or I won’t miss next time.”

Edgar sighed, giving Ben an exasperated look like they were fucking buddies. “As I was saying, I understand your urgency. Anticipation can be tantalizing. But I promise, this is nothing that will cause you any grief.”

“Christ, you pussy, just spit it fuck out-“

“There is something I need collected,” Edgar said, attention entirely on Ben. “Some possessions I left in the care of someone I trusted, who will have them should you ask. I would like you to retrieve them.”

Ben frowned. “That's it.”

“It is. Straightforward, and relatively simple. Despite what you think, I am not a total monster-“

“Where are they.” She interrupted Edgar with a glare, her body tensing under Ben’s arms. “The possessions. Where are we going.”

Edgar hummed, giving Her an amused look. “I have said it before-“

“Yeah, nothing gets past me, I know. Where.”

“Red River.”

Neuman’s mouth fell open. “What? Stan, why the fuck are you keeping something at Red River-“

“It is an impressively safe storage space. It is kept almost entirely off the record, most of those at Vought are not made privy to it, and those who are have almost no interest in sparing it a thought. I have always thought that to be a waste, but I would not let my opinion get in the way of an opportunity.”

“What the fuckin hell would you need to be hidin at Red River,” Butcher snapped, leaning forward with a glower. “That you ain’t able to just hide in a villa in the bloody Caribbean.”

“The CIA raided almost all my villas, Butcher.” Edgar’s voice was dry, and his gaze turned back to Ben. “All you’ll need to do is pay Red River a visit, ask for Vanessa, and tell her you are collecting the Cornucopia. She will provide my property, you will return it to me, and our transaction will be complete.”

She blinked. “Is it a weapon?”

“I’m afraid,” Edgar said Her name with a small, cold smile. “You will have to find that out for yourself.”

“Stan, it’s not a weapon, right?” Neuman’s heart was fast—Ben had never heard her heart move fast, it was a little fucking weird—and her eyes were wide as she watched Edgar. “It can’t be a weapon-“

Edgar patted Neuman on the arm, his smile a little less snake-like than usual. “It is not dangerous to Red River, Victoria, nor its occupants.”

“But everything is dangerous at Red River-“

Ben nudged Her shoulder, keeping a careful eye on Neuman and Edgar. Is anyone going to tell me what the fuck Red River is.

It’s like a supe orphanage. She blinked. Actually, it is a supe orphanage. It’s literally a supe orphanage. Neuman was there, it’s where Edgar adopted her from.

Is that why she looks like she’s about to explode?

Probably.

The fuck happened to her parents.

She killed them. You and I became supes in adulthood, Pretty Boy. We had the luxury of motor control and a developed prefrontal cortex to learn how to control ourselves. She didn’t.

Ben frowned, but didn’t have time to dwell on the image of tiny versions of himself and Her—exploding and burning down buildings before fucking nap time—because She was talking to Edgar again.

“Is there a time limit on this? If we don’t get your shit by the end of the week are you going to explode New York?”

Edgar chuckled. “New York will remain intact. I would prefer that the package be returned to me as soon as possible, but I also recognize that our lives are quite hectic. Let’s say, before June ends.”

“Hm,” She examined Edgar, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what about that generosity you mentioned. For our time.”

“That is also something you will have to wait for, I’m afraid. But, this has been a lovely trip, so I give you my word that it will arrive. And be fruitful.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Gross. Is that it?”

Edgar sighed. “I am afraid so.” He turned to Butcher with a frown. “Though, I was promised the afternoon with my family, for good behavior-“

“That ain’t my fuckin problem,” Butcher snapped, rising to his feet. “Call Mallory. You two,” he pointed a finger at Her and Ben. “Let’s hit the bloody road. I want to be home for dinner, and bein here makes me fuckin itch.”

She hummed in agreement and stood, pulling Ben with her as they followed Butcher out of the room.

Butcher was—thought Ben would never fucking tell him—not entirely wrong about the safe house. It was goddamn weird to be here, to see most of the same furniture they had used, but rearranged or in no danger of being accidentally set on fire. There was still a scorch mark on the wall downstairs, from when she’d almost taken off Butcher’s head, and the kitchen had been clean when they’d passed it, but that felt wrong. Ben had almost never seen that kitchen spotless, and it made him feel all fucking bitter and soft. He didn’t want to come back here—not in a single goddamn universe—but he’d be lying if he didn’t look at the couch and feel something stab at him. He’d kissed Her on that couch for the first time. She’d punched him a lot in that dining room, and it had been fucking hot. She’d cried in almost every single fucking room, and Ben had held her.

He’d kiss Her on other couches, though. And She’d probably punch him in a lot of different locations. She’d keep crying, and Ben would always fucking hold Her. The house didn’t matter that much, Ben decided, because She was the only reason he was being a pathetic fucking pussy about it. And he still fucking had Her. She was right at his goddamn side, leading him down the stairs, and giving him a small smile over her shoulder as they exited the safe house.

Ben opened the car door for Her—he loved Her, and no matter what she said, he was a goddamn gentleman—and had barely sat down himself when She grabbed his face between her hands.

“What the fuck-“

I need to tell you a secret, Ben.

He blinked. The hell do you mean, a secret.

I mean you can’t tell anyone. Not Butcher, not MM, not Mallory or Annie.

I don’t tell those pussies shit. I love you, not them-

You don’t have to love someone to tell them things-

Good thing you’re also my best fucking friend, and they’re not. He winked at Her, and she relaxed slightly. What’s wrong.

Edgar is playing both sides.

What.

He’s hedging his bets. He’s working with us and Sage.

How do you-

He said Sage has gas. Did you, Annie, or Hughie tell Mallory about the gas?

Ben frowned. They hadn’t. They’d lost Her, and in the chaos nobody had thought to bring it up. It hadn’t seemed that fucking important, when She was in danger. No.

Sage, Homelander, and I are the only other people that know about it. And Edgar didn’t just say gas. He said Sage and her gas. So he defiantly knows about it, and I sure didn’t fucking tell him.

So he’s a cowardly fucking pussy backstabber-

No, he’s a cowardly fucking pussy liar. He said if Singer hands over the V. Nobody knows we’ve asked for that but Singer, his cabinet, Mallory, and the rest of the team. No one in the Boys would trust him enough to tell him, so Singer or Mallory must have. Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers began to tap along Ben’s jaw and beard. She was thinking, her brow drawn in that pretty fucking glare at nothing, and Ben had still his body and wait for her to finish.

Her eyes widened, and Ben frowned. Sunshine-

Or, Her eyes focused on Ben’s. There’s a leak. And someone told Sage. And Sage told Edgar.

Ben glanced at Butcher in the driver's seat, and looked back at Her with a frown. You think one of us-

No. She shook her head, teeth peaking over her lips. Not one of us. We’ve been on lockdown, in close confines, with CIA monitored phones. It would have to be a leak in the CIA. Or within Singer’s cabinet.

Fuck.

She sighed, slumping on Ben’s chest. Fuck.

—————————

You were starting to equate your life to a hydra. Whenever you solved one horrible problem, two even worse ones would pop up to replace it.

Ben found a way to knock Homelander down, but now you have to actually get the V, and figure out to bide time and keep the world from erupting as you search. And once you manage to find some V, you’ll have to figure out how to physically get it into Homelander, and how to outmaneuver Sage so the whatever plan you make goes right.

You got Ryan out, but now you have to keep him out. You have to never let Homelander near him again, and come to terms with the fact that Butcher’s probably going to be in your life forever now. You’ll get over it—and it will make for several entertaining thanksgivings—but it’s still weird.

You told Ben you love him, and he loves you, and that’s that. He’s a protective asshole, but he’s trying. Ben’s trying, he’s always trying, and you can feel how all his resolve and rough adoration stems from his love. The hydra isn’t Ben’s love—that within itself is a haven, an oasis within the sandstorm of the world—but how you have to love Ben and keep your head on your shoulders. Have to deal with the fact that, when it really comes down to it, you will burn the world and blow the mission for him, and he’ll do the same for you. And, second head, the fact that you now have to justify your love to everyone. You have to keep yourself together when Nueman or Edgar sneer about your poor decision making, like you’re not a full grown woman who’s well aware of her actions. You’d meant what you told Neuman, every last word of it. It was fucked up to be in love with the biological father of your abuser, who was old enough to be your great-grandfather, didn’t know how emails really worked, and had definitely killed a lot of people. But you’d come to terms with that a long time ago, and in the grand scheme of things it was just another Tuesday. A really fucked up Tuesday, that you loved so much it made you feel high, and that gave you the best orgasms physically possible.

You’d escaped Vought, gotten back to Ben, and now you have to try to fix the parts of you that had broken and deal with all the fallout of your actions. You’re working on the former—it’s slow, but you’re only cold in the dead of night now, and it’s easier to mend the cracks when you’re surrounded by Ben’s warmth, when you can feel safe and loved as the pain starts to leak out of your body—but the latter might take a long time. Edgar had been right about that. Even when you kill Homelander, the world won’t heal. He’s not just a symptom, but he’s also not the virus. You’ll have to burn that bridge when you get to it, though, because right now there are other heads to fight

Like how you’d finally managed to get rid of Neuman as a danger, but Ben had still owed Edgar and there’s a very dangerous vacancy in Singer’s cabinet. Edgar’s called in his favor, and now you have to figure out if it’s just as simple and easy as it sounds—it’s probably not—and keep an eye out for a federal leak.

You and Ben had agreed in the car not to tell Mallory, and to keep it from the rest of the team until there was some more solid evidence. That was another Hydra head. You’d managed to get everyone to trust you, but now you had to figure out how and when to share game-changing news with them and feel the guilt of withholding it.

This had become a pattern, and it was fucking exhausting.

Butcher had barely spoken on the ride home, only grunting that you’d be going straight to a debrief, and that Mallory was finally back from wherever she’d gone off to.

Ten bucks that she was at a fucking orgy.

You blink at Ben as you both follow Butcher into the elevator. There’s literally no way that’s where she was.

Fine. Thirty bucks.

You don’t have thirty dollars, Benjamin.

He scowls. You don’t fucking know that-

Okay. You shrug, leaning against his chest and tugging his arms to rest across your stomach. Where did you get these thirty dollars from? Are you running a side hustle I don’t know about?

What the fuck is a side hustle.

A smaller job to make some extra money. It’s a byproduct of the gig economy-

I don’t need an extra fucking job, this one is already too goddamn complicated-

Well, as you’ve bitched and whined about many times, we don’t get paid. So unless you’re selling feet pics on the internet-

The fuck are-

Pictures of your feet. For masturbation, I assume.

Nobody is jerking it to pictures of my feet, that’s fucking disgusting-

Then where are you getting thirty dollars from?

When you tilt your head back to grin at him, you catch the tail end of his eye roll. Shut the fuck up.

You giggle, leaning up to press a small kiss under his jaw. Grumpy.

Ben’s hand shoots up, angling your chin further back, and begins to leave light kisses everywhere but your mouth. You’re real fucking lucky I love you, Sunshine.

Not luck, you smile at him, and he pulls back to meet your eyes. It’s just my magnetic and irresistible personality.

He snorts, and you were being sarcastic, but when Ben brings his lips to yours the kiss is tender and sweet. Soft, long, making your knees start to shake as all of Ben’s love slams into your body and he holds you upright, smirking against your mouth as you start to squirm. Not just that, darling. I love your smart fucking mouth, and all those pretty sounds you make, and that adorable little pout you do when you’re being a fucking brat.

Darling. That’s good. You like darling, and maybe a little more than my love. It sounds so right, rumbling around your head in Ben’s deep voice, and it makes something gooey and molten spread through your stomach. Molds you like putty in his hands, clears your head to a breathless song that isn’t just Ben. Ben, I love you, but something deeper. It’s in a harmony with his love, with the fact it’s such an overly-sweet pet name that Ben probably would have scoffed at before—or called a stripper in a condescending tone, if you’re being truly honest with yourself about the man you’ve chosen to love—but he’s using it for you so genuinely. He says darling in such a low, hungry and fond voice, and it makes you want to do something domestic and stupid and easy with him. To forgo the meeting, completely ignore Butcher’s glowers and muttering about no bloody respect for his refined fuckin sensibilities, horny fucking cunts, and drag Ben back to your apartment so he can spin you around until you’re dizzy and you can sing to him while you make dinner together. Then you’ll let him carry you upstairs, and you’ll finally convince him to let you wash his hair in the shower—you’re pretty certain you’ll be able to sneak conditioner in there, and the results might give you a heart attack in the best way possible—and when he carries you to bed you’ll let him fuck you until you’re so blissfully wrung out from pleasure you pass out in his big, warm arms.

You can’t do that. But you will. Right now you’ll wiggle out of Ben’s hold as the elevator doors open, looping your arm through his and following Butcher to the dining room to deal with the many, many problems life has presented for you to fix. And after, when Homelander is buried deep underground in an unmarked grave—a small bullet hole is his horrible fucking brain and his body rotting into a flower that will bloom on the grass and never cause anyone pain—you’ll dance and laugh with Ben, and he’ll call you darling, and it will be everything.

After. You make a promise to yourself, that after this is over, you’ll entertain a world where you’re just happy, and make up for all those lost years. Until then, you have a lot of work to do.

Everyone is waiting for you when you enter the dining hall. There’s no A-Train—he rarely attends these meetings unless Annie or MM make him—but Ryan is here, looking up from a book with wide, hopeful eyes.

“You’re late, William-“

“You’re back!” Ryan’s smile makes your heart ache a little. It’s so weightless and bright, purely the kid he’s supposed to be. Even Mallory doesn’t push her scolding, just sighing and shooting you, Ben, and Butcher a sharp look as you reach the table.

“Keep your head on, lad.” Butcher stops behind Ryan, giving him an impressively awkward shoulder pat as he returns Mallory’s glare. “And Jersey traffic delays ain’t my fuckin fault, Grace. We’re all in one bleedin piece, and we got news.”

Mallory starts to chide Butcher about proper planning, and something wired and shy shoots through your body, causing you to jolt and blink.

Ryan’s tapping your arms—resting on the table as you lean forward to see past Ben, hale-hunched over you and blocking your view of half the table—and mumbling your name.

You’ve tried to tell him not to touch you, explaining your empathy in the most layman’s terms you could manage—emphasizing how you can’t control it, and aren’t quite sure what it’s fully capable of—and Ryan had told you he didn’t care. He’d looked eerily like Ben in that moment, frowning at you in an almost frustrated confusion and telling you—in a manner much nicer than Ben had—that he didn’t really care what you felt from him. That he wasn’t afraid you’d feel anything you shouldn’t, that as long as you were comfortable with it, he was as well.

You’d put an end to it there. Ryan was allowed to tap your arm, and hug you, and he should never have to deal with feeling unwanted again. So you smile at him, and he gives you a nervous grin in return.

“What’s up?”

Ryan matches your whisper, shooting Butcher and Mallory a weary look as their argument continues. “I finished Frankenstein.”

“Did you like it?”

“I think so,” Ryan frowns. “I, um, I want to talk about it. If you want to, MM says the meeting is important-“

“I’ll still be here after the meeting, we can talk then.” You glance down at the book, turned over on the table. “What’s next?”

“Catcher in the Rye, Aunt Grace says it’s classic-“ Ryan pauses, and you realize you’d started to involuntarily scowl at the book. “Do you not like it?”

You sigh. “I’m not a catchall for literature opinions, but no, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

You glance down to the end of the table—MM and Frenchie have joined the argument, and you’re not even sure what it’s about anymore—before you continue. “It’s a very,” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “Pointless book. It says things that many other works say, loss of childhood is frightening and society is fake, but it offers the reader to believe that it’s okay to be an asshole, because you have issues and nobody cares. Salinger might have intended the book to be a critique of that idea, but it's still a common interpretation, and I think that within art, the artist’s intention becomes irrelevant once it’s in the hands of the public.”

Ryan nods slowly. “Okay, I just, um,” he glances down at the book on the table, then sheepishly back at you. “I don’t have any other books to read. I’ve finished everything in Butcher’s apartment.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, I’ve been bored-“

“Oi, Ryan.” Butcher snaps, and you realize the fight has concluded. “She’ll be here for fuckin dinner, you can talk all you bloody want then. We got a meetin. ”

Ryan nods, scrambling out of his seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“I ain’t mad, kid.” Butcher sighs, shaking his head. “Just the sooner we finish, the sooner you two can chat about,” he glances at you with a frown. “Whatever the bloody hell you chat about. I’ll drop out and get you when we’ve got all our ducks in a neat fuckin line.”

As Ryan leaves and Butcher takes his vacant seat, you decide you’re going to get Ryan some more books. A few off Mallory’s CIA-approved middle school reading list, some that are just good books that you think he should read, and some that are just entertaining. Ryan should be allowed to read the Hunger Games, a few comics that aren’t about his family members, and Twilight. You could even try and rope Ben into that last one, just for your own entertainment-

You’re a fucking marvel, Sunshine.

You blink, frowning up at Ben. I didn’t do anything-

I was listening to you. You’re real fucking hot when you talk all smart.

That’s how I always talk-

And you’re always fucking hot.

You roll your eyes. Kiss ass.

If you’ll let me. He winks, and you stick your tongue out at him.

Horny cunt.

Smart fucking brat.

Grumpy old man-

You’re into it. He shrugs, pulling you closer to his side. If I get turned on by how goddamn brilliant you are, you get turned on by how fucking grumpy I am.

You don’t manage to suppress the flush of your face. Fuck you.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you, his voice mutters your name in your head, and everything is suddenly very warm. You love it when I fucking toss you over my shoulder and-

“If you two motherfuckers want to come back down to Earth and contribute to the fucking conversation, I think we’d all appreciate it.”

You give MM a mumbled apology, cover Ben’s mouth with a hand to stop any sneers of pussy or suck my hairy fucking balls, and turn to watch Mallory at the head of table.

“Now that we’re all paying attention,” Mallory shoots you a thin-lipped glare, and at this point they’re just starting to bounce right off of you. “The only thing currently on the table is the meeting with Edgar. Soldier Boy, I’d like to speak to you after this, alone, about your jurisdiction and reckless-“

In an act of mercy to Mallory—you can hear the grinding of Ben’s teeth as his jaw clenches, see his fists start to curl on your shoulder—Butcher interrupts. “You ain’t got nothin for us about the V? Been almost a fuckin week-“

“The President,” Mallory’s words are clipped, glower redirecting to Butcher. “Is busy, and still working on our request-“

“He can just take it, non?” Frenchie frowns, looking around the table for affirmation. “There is no need for him to ask for permission, nor forgiveness, he holds the highest office-“

“Not that simple, Frenchie.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “We’re asking for something that’s probably buried in classified documents and locked behind a titanium door. Singer can’t just walk in and take it, and I doubt his Defense Secretary loves the idea of contracting some V out to us, of all fucking people.”

Butcher scowls. “Fuck that cunt then, we’re a bloody delight-“

“You,” Mallory glares around the table. “Are not known within the government for cleaning messes up. You're known primarily for causing them, and costing us millions.”

“That’s not fair, we try really hard.” Hughie frowns. “And it’s not like Vought-“

“Vought lines half of congress’ pockets. Pays for their kids to go to college. All you do is raise their blood pressure, and make them take an early retirement.” Mallory sighs, and her voice becomes the closest thing to sympathetic you’ve heard. “I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve backed you up to Singer, but if Muller keeps pushing-“

You blink. “Muller?”

“Singer’s defense secretary,“ Mallory’s voice is almost toxic, and you have a sickening feeling you know why. “He’s an eel of a man, no military experience, but he managed to charm his way into the position. And he doesn’t trust your intentions-“

“Todd Muller? Governor Todd Muller?”

“Secretary Todd Muller, he resigned the governor position in favor of Singer’s cabinet.” Mallory narrows her eyes at your gaping expression. “Why.”

“I, um,” you swallow, searching through your pockets with frantic movements. “Fuck, where’s my phone-“

Ben nudges you. You gave it to me in the car, said your pockets were too small. What the fuck-

I’m fine. You reach into Ben’s pants, grab out your phone, and ignore the traded looks of concern over your head as you type.

Annie says your name slowly, and you barely hear it. “Are you okay-“

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You mutter, scanning over the article on your screen before looking up to meet the concerned eyes of your team. “That’s my step-dad.”

The table is dead silent, and if you weren’t about to start crying or breaking things, you’d be proud of yourself. It’s not easy to shut everyone up, let alone for ten, long, painful seconds.

MM breaks the silence. “Your fucking step-dad is Singer’s defense secretary.”

“Evidently, yeah.” You snap, turning the phone around for everyone to see. “Spouse, Monica Muller. That’s my mom.”

Ben’s arm tenses over your shoulders. The bitch?

The bitch.

Hughie coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Are you, um, are you sure? I mean, I believe you, but the chances are a kind of fucking crazy that-“

“It’s him. Positive.” You mutter, leaning back into Ben and frowning around the table. “Has Muller been briefed on, uh, me? I mean, I bet he watches the news, but does he know I’m here?”

“Do you believe it would matter if he had?” Mallory asks, words tight and cautious. “If you’re implying a bias-“

You sigh. “Not implying it. I’m outright suggesting it. If Muller knows I’m on the team, that the V is my plan, our chances are lower and we’re going to need to adapt.”

“If he is a professional-“

“He’s not.” Mallory blinks as you cut her off, and you realize you’re half-shouting. “He’s just,” you take a long breath, and feel Ben’s foot press against yours. The world grows sharper, you become a little warmer, and your voice returns to normal. “Muller’s not my biggest fan, and he’s an asshole. I wouldn’t put it past him to block us just because of me.”

MM frowns. “Not your biggest fan how.”

“We haven’t spoken in thirteen years.” You mutter. “And last time we did speak he called me a leech, and told me he was changing all the locks on the house. So, when I realized that independence wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I couldn’t come crawling back.”

“Holy shit,” Hughie mutters, giving you a sympathetic frown. “Sorry, none of us knew-“

You shrug. “I didn’t tell you. I was dead to him and my mom for ten years before Homelander. We don’t have the same last name, I’m not in the will, and they didn’t even release a statement when I ‘died’. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

Ben frowns at your side, but any grunts of didn’t fucking matter, my ass, are stopped by Mallory’s clipped words.

“But you would say it matters now.”

“If Muller knows that I’m involved in this,” You swallow. “Yeah. It does.”

“And you were completely unaware of his position in Singer’s cabinet.”

Your skin starts to itch—smoke rising under your fingers on Ben’s leg—and you give Mallory a sharp glare. “Fucking obviously.”

“How.”

“What do you mean, how. I just didn’t know.”

“You have been out of Homelander’s captivity for over a year,” Mallory holds your glower. “But you have never managed to notice-“

“This is a new cabinet! I’ve had bigger things to worry about since January, sorry I wasn’t googling Robert Singer Defense Secretary pick while I was being fucking kidnapped-“

“Grace,” Butcher grunts, shooting Mallory a glare. “Lay of her. Just a shit fuckin coincidence.”

“William, you of all people know that we don’t deal in coincidences-“

Butcher shrugs. “Once in a blue moon. All we can do now is figure out how to stop the cunt from screwing us and the rest of America over cause of a bloody little family spat.”

Mallory relents with a long, pained sigh, but her eyes on you don’t soften. There are no apologies, or offerings of peace.

She still doesn’t trust you. Mallory is glaring at you, and you know that you’ll never be able to fully prove yourself to her. You can make sacrifice after sacrifice, throw yourself in front of every train and under every tower, but you’ll always be an unstable liability. You’re not weak to her, but you are dangerous. Still a weapon, still barely within her control, now with compromised judgment. You hadn’t missed Mallory’s scowl at Ben—at his arm over your shoulders and the way you’re resting your head back on his chest—or how her lips had curled in disgust.

The feeling is mutual. You don’t trust her. And you think, to a degree, that Butcher doesn’t either. If he did, he’d have told her about the V. Told Malloy you’d lied, the V hadn’t broken, and that you’d given it to him for use.

But he hadn’t. And when you meet his eyes briefly, he gives you a small nod. You don’t know what it means, but you know it’s for you. Butcher’s backing you up. Siding with you over Mallory.

And, strangely, it doesn’t shock you.

“I can speak to Robert about a possible,” Mallory swallows, lip twitching. “Issue with Muller’s judgment. Until then, our hands remain tied. Now,” she looks between you, Butcher, and Ben, crossing her arms. “What did Edgar want.”

You sigh. “Surprisingly little. We need to get a package for him, and that’s all.”

“A package.” Mallory repeats, doubt dripping from her voice. “From what I understand, Soldier Boy’s incredibly ill-conceived deal was that Edgar could request anything, but all he wants is a package.”

Butcher snorts. “That ain’t it. Tell ‘er where the package is, Love.”

You shoot Butcher a glare, before muttering, “Red River.”

“Red,” Hughie swallows. “Red River? What could Edgar need from Red River?”

“Wish I could tell you, Lad, but Old Stan was bein a real fuckin mysterious asstwat. Wouldn’t say anythin but Red River and pick up the package.”

Now you know Butcher doesn’t fully trust Mallory. It’s not just a package, it’s Edgar’s property. Purposefully hidden, away from federal and corporate eyes. You’d said it passively, without thinking, but Butcher’s words were purposeful. You’re picking it up. It’s not there now.

You won’t be correcting him. Mallory might override the favor, raid Red River and just take what Edgar wants. Ben would still owe him, and you don’t think losing whatever the fuck the Cornucopia is will do Edgar’s generosity any favors.

“He said it was being delivered there in a few days, and we just needed to pick it up and bring it to him.” You double down, holding Mallory’s gaze. “That’s it.”

That’s not what he fucking said, Ben grunts in your head, and you can feel his glare peeling you apart. The hell are you up to.

Can’t trust Mallory.

Butcher-

Doesn’t either. Trust me-

“I assume,” Mallory’s glower turns to Ben. “Soldier Boy will have to deliver it himself.”

“Would seem like it,” Ben drawls, giving your shoulder a small squeeze. He’s in. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know why or what he’s in, but he trusts you, so he’s in. “Be a little fucking pointless if I didn’t.”

“Did he say anything else?” Annie cuts in with a frown. “Edgar could just have the package delivered to the prison, why Red River? What if it’s a weapon-“

“Ain’t a weapon, Starlight.” Butcher grunts. “Like I said, we ain’t got a clue about anythin but our instructions.”

Mallory shakes her head at nothing. “And yet you intend to go through with this, William. Despite our lack of intel.”

Butcher shrugs. “What’s the worst that could bloody happen.”

“It could be a large bomb-“

“It ain’t gonna be a bomb, Frenchie, how the fuckin hell would that even work-“

“He’s got a point Butcher, it could easily be a fucking trap-“

“MM, if it’s a trap, it’s a real bloody stupid one-“

“Traps don’t have to be smart, they just have to work-“

“It, uh, it could be a set up? No Homelander, but Edgar’s trying to frame us for something-“

“Petite Hughie, we are already very much criminals, Edgar would not need to frame us-“

“We aren’t all criminals-“

“Oui, just half of us. Myself, Butcher, Kimiko, and Soldier Boy-“

“I am not a fucking criminal you pussy-”

“You might be the most criminal motherfucker here-“

Even if we ignore all the outright war crimes and murders, I’ve seen you steal a car, Ben. You nudge his shoulder, pulling his attention from MM. That’s not exactly law abiding citizen behavior.

I’ve been fucking pardoned for everything-

Mallory slams a fist on the table, and the arguments die off. “This is not,” she snaps, glaring around at your team. “Winning you any points to make me approve this. Give me one good reason that I shouldn’t just let Soldier Boy deal with the consequences of his horrible, stupid actions.”

“Because we ain’t got another option.” Butcher leans back, hands in his pockets. “I’m not the biggest fuckin fan of this shit either, but we’re in a corner Grace. And we don’t got much else to do, what’s the worst a little bloody field trip could do. Get us some fresh air-“

“This would not be a field trip, William-“

“He’s right, though.” MM mutters. “We’ve got to back each other up on this, and Edgar’s a conniving dickhead, but he’s also not reckless. I don’t think he’s a sick enough motherfucker to put a bunch of kids in danger by sending us there.”

“And he adopted Vicky from there,” Hughie looks around the table with wide eyes. “I mean, they have a super fucked up relationship, but he does care about her. I don’t think she’d forgive him if he put kids like her in danger.”

Frenchie shakes his head. “It may not be a trap for the Red River, mon amie. Edgar plays a long game, we may think we are out of the woods, and then,” he smacks his hand on the table, and you flinch slightly. “Bomb in our ass.”

Hughie frowns. “How would the bomb have gotten in our ass?”

“I do not know, but Edgar has ways-“

“Of putting a bomb in our ass?”

“It is a metaphor-“

Kimiko whacks Frenchie’s arm. We can’t live our lives in the service of metaphorical ass-bomb.

Frenchie shakes his head. Mon Coeur, I am not in service of the ass-bomb, I am working to avoid it so I may continue to live.

There are ass-bombs everywhere, Kimiko shrugs, turning to you. Do you think it’s a good idea?

I do. You sigh, signing slowly. But I’m probably bias, I just want to help Ben-

But you want to do it?

You nod. I don’t think it’s a trap. I think there might be an ulterior motive, but we’re not marching to the gallows if we go.

“Oi,” Butcher snaps, glaring at you and Kimiko. “We ain’t all fluent in fuckin crazy sign language. Someone translate.”

You glance at Kimiko, and she gives you a small smile, signing, I am on your side. Frenchie too.

Frenchie sighs, but nods, and you turn to Mallory.

“I’ve got five votes pro-Red River-“

Mallory scowls. “I don’t see five-“

“Ben and Myself are givens,” you shrug, and glance up to see Ben’s gaze locked on Mallory with a murderous glare. You okay?

I’ve got your back. Keep talking, Sunshine.

You take a long breath, and return your attention to Mallory. “And Butcher’s already said he’s with us. Frenchie and Kimiko make five.”

“I’m in,” Annie says, shaking her head at nothing. “I don’t trust Edgar, but this could’ve been a lot worse. We should take advantage of the fact that he’s just being suspicious, and not an outright psychopath.”

Hughie nods. “I’m in too. That’s seven-“

“Eight,” MM grunts, and Mallory blinks at him.

“Marvin, you can’t be serious-“

“You’re outvoted, Grace.” MM sighs, saying your names as he frowns at you and Ben. “You’re sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate. “Positive. It’s our best move. If Edgar wants that package, he’ll get it. We might as well let him cash in the favor.”

MM nods. “Then I’m all in. We’ll need a few days to make sure we can go to Red River without Vought noticing, but-“

“I still haven’t approved this.” Mallory snaps. “It could still be a trap, and I don’t see any benefit to complying with whatever Edgar really wants.”

“I don’t like it either, but I’d rather we do it with those two idiots,” MM gestures to you and Ben, and when Ben goes rigid, you feel something heavy wrapping around his lungs. “Then let them turn around and do it alone.”

Mallory’s eyes turn to you. “What would you do,” she says your name in a cold voice, and your eyes narrow. “If I vetoed this.”

“You won’t.” You make your voice flat and bored, even as your blood starts to feel cold, moving faster in time with the scratch of flame under your skin. “If it was MM, or Annie, you wouldn’t fucking hesitate, on this. But we’re still a part of this team, whether you like it or not, and Ben being in debt to Edgar isn’t doing anyone any favors.” You raise your chin, holding Mallory’s glare with a sneer. “You are outvoted. Unanimously. We’re doing this.”

“Understand that you’ll be taking the fall, if this blows up in our face-“

Your blood is white hot, pushing around your lungs and wrapping over your heart. “I always do.”

Mallory’s face twitches. “You don’t get the whole team-“

“Don’t need the whole team. It can be Ben, me, and Kimiko.”

“Please,” Mallory scoffs. “I’m not sending you with just Kimiko-“

Hughie raises his hand. “I can, uh, I can go too. I’ve been there before, and I’m kind of responsible. Not that you and Kimiko aren’t responsible,” he gives you an apologetic grimace. “But I think I’ve killed the least people here, besides Annie, and she can’t go because of security-“

“I get it, Hughie,” you offer him a small smile, and he nods as you turn back to Mallory. “I’ll take Hughie as well.”

You feel something jerk in your chest, and look up to find Ben scowling at you. You’re not fucking going.

Ben-

No. You can’t go out in public, Homelander-

Homelander won’t be looking for me at Red River.

You don’t fucking know that-

Benjamin, I’m going. That’s the end of it.

The hell it is-

I’m so fucking serious. Your glare at him, and that broken part of you twisting and curling inside your gut. You are not doing this shit alone.

I can handle my goddamn self-

I fucking can as well! You’re half screaming in silence, the fire mixing with your blood and clawing out of your hands and tongue. I’m going with you! Stop trying to bench me-

Ben grunts your name, and you can’t tell if it’s in your head or not.

I’m not delicate! Why don’t you fucking trust me-

I do trust you, but I’m not putting you in fucking danger for this-

For what?! To help you like you’d help me! Can you honestly fucking tell me, Ben, that if I was in debt you wouldn’t do whatever it fucking took to help me pay it?!

That’s not the same goddamn thing-

It is! It’s the exact same fucking thing. Your eyes are stinging, your whole body is stinging. Aching and stabbing at that flailing piece of you, slamming on the cracks inside of you and splitting them further, aching and stabbing at everything. Everywhere. I want to help you, I need to help you, just let me fucking help, you fucking asshole-

Big, warm hands are cupping your face, and Ben starts to drag everything in you back together. Your fury at him doesn’t lessen, but falls back into your blood. Only your blood, twining with the familiar feeling of Ben. Still a part of you, still loving you, and full of a weighted, almost painful force. Sheer, grounded will, covering over something bitter, taut, and rabid that lived everywhere in his body. Breathe.

You swallow, everything coming back into focus. I’m still fucking mad at you-

I know. He’s watching you. The world is clear, and Ben’s eyes on yours are tearing you open, the sore, bitter thing eating him alive. But you still need to fucking breathe.

It’s quiet, you realize. Dead quiet.

When MM speaks, his voice is hoarse. “What the fuck just happened.”

Your tongue still feels a little numb, but you can’t punch and scream at Ben, or fall forwards into his chest and cry. Your voice is a little too flat when you speak, but you let the words push themselves out. “Sorry, it was, um.” You take a shaky breath. “It was the empathy. I think it’s getting stronger, and I still can’t really control when that happens. I’m working on it, I’m really sorry.”

An apology doesn’t feel like enough. As you scan the faces of your team, everyone is bloodless and frozen, and you know they felt you. Felt the cracks, felt the sting, felt all of that cold, burning fear and anger and pain that always sits somewhere inside you like a sickness.

“What happened to the suppressant.” Mallory hisses, and you flinch. “To avoid this very problem affecting us.”

“I’m not taking it anymore,” you mumble, staring at the table. “It felt, it felt wrong. I couldn’t do it-“

“This is not about you.” Mallory snaps. “It’s a precaution for everyone’s safety-“

“Mallory,” Ben grunts. “Shove it up your fucking ass and eat my dick. She’s not taking it.”

He’s pulled you a little closer against him and, as furious at him as you are, some instinct in you still goes Ben. Safe. You think it’s because you can still feel that weight on his chest, and how it’s been dropped there by his love. Because you know that none of that fear was fear of Ben. That you’re going to have time to shove his chest and yell at him later, but right now you’re just tired again. You’re cold again—unable to look your team in the eyes, unable to control yourself, weak—and right now Ben is warm. And he’s got your back.

“You do not speak for her, or control her actions-“

“I am well fucking aware of that.” Ben drawls. “But she already said her damn self that we’re working on it. You’re fine, you bitch, so fucking shove it.”

Mallory says your name, and that rabid ache in Ben flares. “I do not care what Soldier Boy has told you, this is a security measure. Do not compromise yourself for whatever this is.”

That makes your head snap up, gaze landing on Mallory as your exhaustion morphs back into fury. When you speak, your voice is careful, venomous. “Whatever what is.”

If Mallory senses the danger in your voice, it doesn’t show on her face. “I recognize that you and he,” she gives a dismissive gesture to Ben, and you see Butcher wince in the corner of your eyes. You have a feeling everyone but Mallory knows where this is headed, and none of them are stepping in to stop it. “Have developed an odd kinship. But you are a smart woman, do not lose sight of the mission or your team for it.”

“This had nothing to do with the mission.” You’re not in danger of losing control again. This isn’t prodding at something broken or cracked in your body, it’s only measured anger. “The suppressants were detrimental to my health-“

“Did he tell you that?” Mallory snaps, giving Ben another jerk of her head. He’s still silent, still there, still letting you handle this. “Did Soldier Boy tell you they were detrimental-”

You’re not entertaining this. “He did. Because we live together, and sleep in the same bed. He was bound to notice that I wasn’t exactly doing well, what with all the nightly mental breakdowns.”

“And you trust his judgment-“

“Always.” You hold Mallory’s glare, leaning across the table. “I always trust him.”

It might not be entirely true, but this isn’t about the truth. Ben is an asshole—a loud, abrasive, infuriating piece of shit—but you’re still going to defend him to the end of the earth. You’ll stand by his side always, even when you’re angry at him. You’ve earned being angry at him. And Ben might not be allowed to tell you what to do, but he’s also earned his own lenience. He still grounds you when you’re spiraling, and loves you all the time. Mallory isn’t a part of your fight with Ben. Mallory isn’t a part of any of this.

“You are not as intelligent as I thought,” Mallory hisses. “If you are willing to forsake everything for Soldier Boy. It would recommend you re-evaluate, if you truly believe that he is worth risking your lack of control.”

Your vision is red. Not your vision. Ben’s vision.

Can I fucking kill her-

No. “Is that it? I should call things off with the only person in my life who loves me, and take the experimental drug?”

Mallory scoffs. “He does not love you, girl. He may be infatuated, but-“

“He does.” You’re done with dancing around it. It’s been a long day of playing the game, so this has to be plain and brutal. This has to be the last time Mallory questions your judgment, the last time she pretends that she’s in charge of you. That she has any idea what you’ve gone through—from Homelander, from Vought, from her—or any authority over your choices. She doesn’t even fucking pay you. “Ben does love me. You’ve even used it to your advantage, with that fucking stay in line and you’ll put me in danger shit. I also love him, and if you actually viewed us as people, you probably would’ve noticed it. Everyone else certainly did. I am not a child, Mallory, with a school girl crush. I am an adult, who is allowed to make my own medical decisions, and fuck and love whomever I chose. And I chose Ben.”

“I would not endorse that choice-“

“I don’t fucking care. And it is truly insane to me,” you drawl. “How everyone is so incredibly comfortable telling me what to do with my life. I’m getting a little fucking tired of it, but I’m getting tired of a lot of this. Maybe I’ll let Ben steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll just leave. Maybe we’ll go to Canada. Maybe Mexico. But no matter what, we’re going together. And I don’t think you want to lose your two most valuable weapons at the finish line, Mallory. So watch it when you try to tell me how to think, or what to do outside of the mission.”

You don’t wait for her response, standing to your feet, taking Ben up with you, pausing only to glance at MM.

He speaks before you can ask the question. “Three days.”

You nod slowly. “That’s it?”

“Should be. I’ll have a more concrete number by breakfast tomorrow, I’ll tell you then.”

You hear the implication. You’ll be welcome at breakfast. You’d exploded—at Mallory, by pushing your blood into everyone else—but you’re still part of the team. They might be afraid of you, and you understand that, but they don’t hate you. They still trust you, and if you want to come to breakfast tomorrow, you can.

“Thank you,” you give MM a weak smile that’s mostly just a grimace, and when he returns it with a small, curt nod, you leave. Pull Ben behind you—both of you silent, his sore, bitter, rabid weight still in your chest and lungs and gut—not looking back. Your team, somehow, isn’t trading you for Mallory. And you have an odd feeling that after you leave, they’ll back you up. Ben does love you, your judgment isn’t compromised, and they trust you.

When Mallory leaves, you’ll have to share the Edgar news with them. They won’t turn around and tell Mallory—you’re sure of it—and they should know. Maybe this hydra head won’t grow back.

You have a different one to deal with now, anyways. Ben does love you. If you know anything, you know Ben loves you. You’d cut off the head of judgement, and now you have to deal with the fact that you’re going to fucking kill him, and that—in the end—you don’t want to. You don’t want to fight with Ben, you want to fall apart just a little in his arms, but you can’t. You have to fight with him now, so you can crumble into him later and only think about how warm he is. About how much, even in the wrath eating at your muscle and heart, you love him.

You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t. You’d just stomp upstairs when the apartment door closed behind you. Instead, you whirl around, and slam your fists into his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Ben doesn’t stumble, glowering down at you. “What the fuck is wrong with you,” he hisses, the words pushed through his teeth. “If you seriously fucking think I’m going to put you in any goddamn danger for something so fucking stupid?”

You scoff. “You’re not putting me in danger, I’m telling you that I’m going, and there’s not a single fucking thing you can do about it.”

“The fuck there isn’t. Christ,” Ben growls your name, holding your glare. “What if it is a goddamn trap? What if Homelander’s waiting for you?”

“I know the risks, Benjamin, and that’s why I’m going. I’m not letting you do this alone-“

“I can fucking take care of myself for an afternoon, you’re not going-“

“You would never let me do this alone-”

“I told you, that’s different-“

“It’s not!” You scream, shoving at his chest again. It’s futile, he’s built like a fucking mountain, and when he catches your hands you almost sob. You don’t want to fight, and you can feel that rabid ache in him, making everything so focused and loud, making something blister in your chest. “Why are you being such a dick about this?!”

“Because I can’t fucking lose you again!” Ben’s roar cuts through your ribs, and suddenly the sore feeling is unbearable. It’s not just eating him, it's spreading through him and taking root like a mold. “It fucking killed me, I failed you and it fucking broke you. I’m never fucking failing you again-“

“You didn’t lose me-“

He doesn’t hear the softening of your voice, and you’ve only felt him like this once. With everything in him wrathful, but inverted to tear apart his guts and nerves. Beating him until everything is his body is in a horrible, sunken agony. His face looks just like it had the first time as well—clouded and heavy, every feature looking like it’s uncertain of how to express the pain you can feel within him—but you can’t lean forwards and take his face in your hands like you had at the Believe Expo. You can only let Ben’s hands hold yours, grip tight but his strength controlled, his thumb running over your knuckles in a way that you’re not sure he’s fully aware of. Like it’s an instinct for him, pushing through the haze of his wrath.

“I did fucking lose you! It doesn’t matter how forgiving you are, I didn’t fucking protect you and you got hurt! Homelander fucking hurt you, because I failed you, and I’m never letting that happen again!”

“Ben-“

“I’ll never lock you up, I’ll fucking throwing myself in front of a goddamn bomb before I do that shit to you, but you’re not allowed to be in danger. And this is fucking dangerous-“

“Ben-“

“I’m never losing you again, I’m never failing you again, and there’s not a goddamn chance in hell I’m letting you get hurt again-“

“Benjamin!” You raise your voice, and heat your hands just enough to make his skin raw, to get his attention. “I’m okay, I’m really okay. Homelander wasn’t your fault-“

“It was,” he’s not shouting anymore. It’s worse, to hear the hopelessness in his voice, and the mold is spreading further and further, over his bones and into his muscles. “I fucking failed you-“

“You didn’t fail me,” you whisper. “You couldn’t fail me. You won’t always be able to protect me-“

“Not if I have a goddamn say-“

“You don’t.” You give him a sad smile, slowly moving your hands out of his grip, up to cup his face. “Our lives are really dangerous, and that’s just the way it is right now. And you won’t always be there to protect me, because there will be things we can’t handle together. But we can do this one together, and if it goes south, I’ll come back. I’ll burn the whole fucking world to get back to you, if I need to.” You run a hand over his beard, feeling the wrath fade, leaving only the ache. “And you’ll be waiting.”

“Of course I’ll fucking wait.” His voice is low, hoarse, and sad. It’s so sad, rotting inside of him and making your heart turn in your chest. “I’ll always wait, I fucking love you-“

“And that’s enough,” you tug him a little closer, keeping his eyes on yours. “It’s more than enough that you love me, and that you’ll wait. I literally live in you, Ben. You’re the safest place in the world to me, and I’ll always come back. But I need you to let me do this with you. To trust that I can take care of myself.”

“I trust you,” he mutters, hands moving up to hold your wrists. “But I can’t fucking help you. I need to fucking help you, to make sure you’re safe-“

You tug his head down, pressing your foreheads together. “I’m safe. If you’re staying here, I’m safe.”

He lets out a ragged breath, but doesn’t keep pushing.

“You’re hurting yourself.” You say, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Narrowed on yours, so fucking sad. “You’re really hurting yourself, Ben.”

“I’m fine, I’m not a fucking pussy, this shit isn’t about me-“

“You’re not a pussy,” you trace a hand over his cheekbones, down to the line of his jaw, and he stills. Watching you with wide, reverent eyes as the mold starts to melt, burning away as a pious warmth blooms from his skull, down his spine. “But you’re still allowed to be in pain.”

“I’m fucking invulnerable-“

“Emotional pain, Ben.”

“I’m fine-“

You give him a flat look, and he rolls his eyes, voice still heavy and tired.

“It’s not the fucking same.”

“Because I’m a woman.” You raise your brows at him, and he scowls.

“No, because you have an actual goddamn reason to be in pain. You-“

“I know what happened to me,” you sigh. “And I know you, Ben. You didn’t fail me, but no matter how much I tell you that you’re never going to not blame yourself for what happened.”

“Who fucking cares, I’m more than goddamn capable of feeling a little fucking sad and pushing through it-“

“It’s killing you. I can feel it. Right,” You point to his chest, where the mold has almost overtaken his lungs and heart in a suffocating, lead-like feeling. “There. And I care. I love you, and I hate that you’re doing this to yourself. It’s hurting me.” You swallow the lump in your throat, running your hands through Ben’s hair as the warmth starts to ache as well. It’s a better ache, like rain or sparks landing on bare skin, but it’s being pushed around inside him, as if his body doesn’t know what to do with it. Like it’s been thawed out and is unsure what it’s supposed to do within him. “Even when you’re being an ass, I still love you. And I don’t want you to kill yourself to protect me, Ben. I just want you.”

His head falls to your shoulder, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you half off of the ground, and the ache washes over your body like a wave.

Ben’s first sob is choked, against your skin and strained. His whole body tenses, the ache tightening around your lungs, and you think he expects you to push him away.

It’s okay, you hold him against you carefully, gently, and start to hum. You’re not sure it will help Ben, but he always does it for you, so you hum and run your fingers through his hair, letting a hazy, rainbow light fill the room, a warm breeze drifting around the apartment. Everything smells like flowers and honey and chocolate, and Ben’s relaxing against you, so you keep going. It’s okay, Ben. We’re okay.

It’s the same sound again. Pushing itself out of him, muffled in your neck as he tugs you closer, and you let him. You keep humming, let Ben hold you as tight as he needs to, and stay.

You’re not leaving. Nothing can take you away, and you know Ben realizes that when the wave turns into a storm. Crashing from Ben into you, all that aching, caring warmth. He almost falls forward, and his sobs are desperate as he shakes against your body. There’s an occasional, strangled roar, but it’s mostly just tears. Wet against your skin as Ben folds further down over you, like maybe he can pull you into him and keep you safe like that.

It takes slow, careful steps, but you guide him across the room and onto the couch without ever disturbing him. When you lower your bodies down—Ben’s head now buried in your sternum, half slumping onto and half on his knees—his arms drop to your waist, and he screams. It’s loud, echoing through the room and racking his whole body as he chokes on his tears.

I can’t fucking lose you. He’s still crying, his voice barely a croak in your head. Not again. Not when I could’ve fucking done something to stop it-

You couldn’t have done anything-

I’m supposed to fucking protect you. Ben’s hold on your body is almost bruising, but you don’t flinch. Nothing he does will ever hurt you, not really. Not permanently. I promised you I’d fucking protect you-

I don’t need you to protect me, Ben. You sigh, half-petting his head as the tears start to slow, and the storm begins to pass. I just need you.

You fucking trusted me. You shouldn’t fucking trust me, you shouldn’t keep forgiving me, you shouldn’t love me, I goddamn failed you-

You didn’t fail me. And I don’t love you because you protect me.

Ben looks up, and your humming falters. His eyes are red, and his expression is slack, and tired, and sad. Just so, so fucking sad, even as the warmth starts to spread once more. Why.

You understand what he wants. His love for you is almost cowering in your chest, and for once you know exactly how to feed it. I love you because you’re safe, Ben. Not because you keep me safe, but because you’re safe. I trust you because you don’t lie to me, and you don’t treat me like I’m a problem, and you stay. I’m not easy either, but you stay. You put up with how intense and reckless I can be with myself, and you never stop pushing against my worst decisions with my own life, and you make me feel important. You make me feel valued and heard and cared for in a way that I didn’t know was possible. Even when I didn’t think you loved me, I knew you cared. You always care, and you always stay, and I love you. I’ll alway crawl back to you because I know you’ll pick me up and take care of me, and I won’t be afraid because you’re there. And everything is better when you’re there.

The tears are gone, and his voice is hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, brushing hair away from his brow. “I love you, Benjamin. And I’m not mad.”

He huffs a dry laugh, resting his head onto your stomach as the tension starts to leave his body. “Of course you fucking aren’t,” he mumbles into you. “You should be.”

You smile down at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Ben chuckles, and even though it’s still low and gruff, it’s warm. “Couldn’t if I damn tried. You’re a piece of fucking work, Sunshine,” one of his hands find its way to yours, squeezing it once. “You’re fucking perfect.”

I love you.

Ben smiles against you, and all his care and affection hums in your body. I love you too, darling.

Your heart flutters a little bit, and you decide that, as long as Ben wants to stay molded against you—his chest rising and falling with ease, every part of him only love—you’re going to let him. He’d been right, you probably should be mad at him, but you’re not. He’d apologized. He wouldn’t do that if he hadn’t understood, because Ben didn’t do things he didn’t mean. And he was trying. He was always trying. And you can’t blame him for the fight, because you'd be lying if you said you’d be any better—if Ben went back to sleep, you hadn’t been there to stop it, and all you could do was wait for him to wake up—and it wasn’t like either of you were winning any emotionally stable and well-adjusted awards. All that really matters is he’s here, and he’s trying. You’re both always trying. Loving each other and losing your mind and burning together and trying.

Ben’s love is alive and content in your chest, easy and warm as you hold him, and it’s still so holy. It feels inevitable, loving each other. Not like soulmates, but something bigger. Something that’s made of more teeth and blood, and had been feral and lonely for so long, wanting for something it didn’t know was missing. A deep craving that had been there so long it felt natural, and you'd both learned how to live with it stuck in your bodies, and didn’t really want or need it to be satisfied.

You’re satisfied now. Both you and Ben have melded yourselves together, against every single odd and force trying to pull you away. And you did it. Nothing made this happen, you love Ben because of him, because of you, and because you don’t want to ever be wanting again.

And when you look at Ben, his face still buried in your stomach, chest rising and falling in a steady pattern, big hands rubbing circles on your skin, you know you won’t be.

Ben is here. He’s safe, he’s everything, and you love him, and you’re never going to be craving for anything again.

End Note: I know it’s far too late to turn back now, but I hope all the OCs and reader lore doesn’t throw you guys off. It’s hard not to do, just for this story, but let me know if it’s hard to track and/or read.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox @criminalyetminimal @solsborg

@generalmoonpolice @ifyouwerethemoon @leavli

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e-nonsense · 9 days ago

Text

DAD I’M FROM THE FUTURE

pairing. bruce wayne x daughter!reader

warnings. time travel shenanigans, canon typical violence

summary. reader is Bruce’s daughter from the future.

a/n. i was watching the batman trilogy last night and this came to me. doesn’t follow the dark knight timeline, gonna do a battinson one later.

You’d gotten yourself in quite the situation, messing around in Central City helping out the speedsters with their problems and then accidentally getting yourself thrown back in time. You landed somewhere familiar at least, Gotham City just.. older, less advanced.

From when you were younger, lucky for you the people of Gotham tried to mind their business, nobody spared a glance at the girl in a batsuit, dark purple and a gold orange. Despite the streets looking different the path wasn’t.

You worked your way across the rooftops, swiftly and agile. You made it to Wayne manor in a matter of minutes, going through an open window on the highest floor and creeping through the halls quietly and down to entrance of the cave.

Pressing the three notes on the piano in the centre of the room the hidden door behind the glass shelves swinging open, you step through into the old elevator, going down.

What you don’t know is that Bruce is already waiting for you down there, watching on the cameras. “Who is that?” He asks Alfred, who merely shrugs in response. “Not a clue, Master Bruce.”

The elevator hits the underground floor, before you twist to the side out of the way of a batarang coming your way. “What the hell?” You scowl, dodging when you’re lunged at, you move to hit back but are stopped by Bruce’s hand catching your wrist.

“Let go,” you mutter, he doesn’t budge. “Bruce!” You shout, the name foreign on your tongue.

You see his eyes widen behind the mask and he steps back, “how do you know my name?”

“Let go and I’ll explain.” You retort, his eyes scan your suit, hardened Kevlar plates on titanium-dipped tri-weave fibres, just like his suit.

“Fine,” he releases your wrist, crossing his arms and watching as you pull your mask off. “I’m from the future,” you say, “a future where you’re my dad.”

Alfred chokes on the tea he was drinking and Bruce shoots him a look. “You don’t believe me, i get it. No proof, but dad— Bruce you gotta believe me. Everything i know is because of you.”

Bruce stares, “why’d i take you in?”

He almost smiles at the look that flashes through your eyes, hope, care, pride. “You saved me, you saved all of us. We were like you, orphaned, well me and Dick at least. You didn’t want us to go down the same path as you did, so you taught us.”

Something about you reminded Bruce of himself, a version of him that was happy, younger. “Why’re you here?” He asks, hesitantly taking his mask off, you know better it’s a show of trust, he’s giving you a chance.

“You know Flash? I got mixed up helping out speedsters, got into a fight and thrown back in time. Not sure how long I’ll be here until they figure where in time I’m stuck.” You say, “but shouldn’t be too long.”

“Hm,” he hums gruffly, you don’t take offence to his lack of response, it’d be more concerning if he gave you actual words. Your eyes flicker to the array of screens behind you, case files on the desk, pictures of bodies. “The Riddler case?” You ask, Bruce raises a brow at you.

“You know about it?”

“I’m a little rusty on the details but i can help?” He doesn’t say no as he turns away, despite this not being your Bruce, you could still read him.

MEANWHILE

Barry grunts as he’s slammed into the wall, Bruce scowling down at him. “What do you mean you lost her?” Bruce hisses.

“I mean she’s gone, Bruce. Thrown through time,” Barry groans, breathily due to the way Bruce’s forearm is pressed to his neck.

“Bruce, cmon. We need him to get her back,” Dick, ever the voice of reason.

“We have other speedsters,” Bruce scoffs, his signature glare present. Despite wanting to break every bone is Barry’s body, Bruce lets him go. “How do we find her?”

“Thats easier, magic.” He hears from behind, Zatara.

“This isn’t a league mission,” Bruce mutters.

“But you need us,” Dick adds, Bruce doesn’t deny it, he’s not a speedster or a sorcerer. Dick takes his silence as a ‘good to go’, motioning for the rest of them to begin. “This is hers,” Dick says, handing Zatara a fluffy blanket with the Flash logo on the back.

Barry can’t help the little smile that crosses his lips, you’ve always been one of his biggest fans. he remembers the first time he met you, you were at least seven years old, and you just stared at him silently. eyes wide with adoration, and later you mentioned the Flash being your hero.

His smile drops when he sees the glare Bruce throws his way.

—

“So dad— Bruce, sorry man. Keep forgetting,” you grin sheepishly at the Batman, he doesn’t reply per usual.

“What’s the story here?”

“Nothing,” he replies dryly as you spin in his chair, he seems unamused but sighs and keeps his mouth shut, letting you enjoy the little things. Alfred steps in, setting a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk down on an empty spot on the table trashed with stacked up files and strewn papers.

“We’re not children—” Bruce complains before cutting himself off when you eagerly reach for a glass and a cookie, Bruce cracks an amused smile, before nodding a silent thanks to Alfred. The butler chuckles before making his leave.

“How long until I— your dad comes for you?” Bruce questions, with a raised brow, taking a glass for himself.

“Should be soon, you’ve probably got everyone busting their asses to get me home.”

Home. It’s a strange concept to him, that anyone else, let alone a dozen children think of his manor as a home, let alone him as one too.

“You’re a good dad, B.”

You pause for a moment before continuing, “i mean you have your moments of… less good dad moments but overall. You do great with us, you’re gonna doubt it a lot a times. But you gotta remember in the future you’re not alone anymore.”

He stays silent, “I’ve enjoyed this,” he admits.

“The idea of having a daughter, let alone more kids. I like it, I can see why i adopt all of you in the future, especially you. I know I’m doing right if you’ve turned out like this, you’re a good kid, and a great hero.”

You want to cry, you always do when you hear him praise you. But the moment is cut short when Barry is suddenly in the middle of the cave.

You shoot up, “Barry?”

“Kid!” The speedster grins, he’s at your side in less than a second. “You had me worried, i thought Bruce was gonna kill me— oh hi Bruce.”

Your father — past father? future father? — seems unimpressed, glaring at the man in red. A hole rips through the air, and through it you can see your father, current dad, you can see the worry in his eyes, the sight of his greying hair all too familiar, comforted by the sight of him.

Beside him you see Zatara in some soft of trance, you don’t question it as you rush forwards towards the portal to get to your dad. Before you can pass through you turn back around rushing back to past Bruce’s side.

Bruce’s arms wind around you when you topple in his arms, hugging him tightly, “thank you.” You whisper, your dad watches from the other side of the portal, his heart twisting, he knows how much this would mean to past Bruce.

“How do i find you?” Bruce asks softly, he holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” You reply, pulling away. “I promise.”

He lets you go, with the promise that you’ll find each other. You’ll find your way home, you know that much. You’ll find your dad, whether he exists in whatever universe you’re in or not. You’ll always find Bruce Wayne, whether its his memory or a picture of him, whether he’s real or fake.

You and Barry make your way through the portal as it closes, past Bruce can see the relief in his future selfs eyes once you’re back with him.

Nobody sees how later that night your dad doesn’t leave your side, the fear of ever losing you settling in.

He’ll savour whatever moments he can get with you now.

#bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batsis x batfam #batfam x batsis #batsis!reader #enzo writes [📝]#christan bale #platonic!bruce wayne x reader

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prentisslvr · 8 days ago

Note

hello! congrats on 100 followers!! what an achievement. i was wondering if we could see prompt 18 “please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.” with jennifer jareau x reader - sick reader who isn’t like extremely stubborn and refusing care, but doesn’t wanna get jj sick since she has work to do. maybe they’re in the early months of dating so they don’t fully live together yet so r ends up at her own apartment/place to hide from jj to avoid affecting her until jj realizes something is up.

SICKNESS BUG

summary: you caught a sickness bug off of jennifer’s son and are too stubborn to be taken care of.

pairings; jennifer jareau x reader

genre; fluff/comfort

prompt: 18 - “please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.”

authors note; tysm for the request, and for your kind congratulations <33 some things might be ooc or not canon complicit because i’m not that far into the show yet and haven’t watched it in a while!!

jennifer had two sons, who were both in school which meant sickness was a common thing in jj’s household.

henry caught the flu and william, her ex, wasn’t available, so jennifer had to take care of henry, alone, along with her younger son which you’d assumed was a hard task, so you had offered to help.

you and jj had already been dating a couple of months, and you’d already met henry and michael a couple of times anyway. so jj, very reluctantly, let you help out.

jj, luckily, didn’t catch it, her body was used to children and their germs, your body, however, was not.

now you were in your home, coughing up your guts, with the worlds worst headache, alone, because you had left jj’s house about two days ago when henry recovered from his sickness.

you hadn’t told jennifer before you called sick at work, not wanting to worry her, but now, running a fever, and your stomach killing, you wondered how little henry had dealt with it so well.

when jennifer arrived at work that day, she had been excited to see you, you had went back to your house a couple days ago after staying to help her look after her sick son, which she was extremely grateful for.

however you weren’t there. at first she thought maybe you were late, but when she heard derek mention your absence and hotch reply with a, ‘she’s off sick’ her heart sank, you were sick, and alone, and you didn’t tell her.

“she’s sick?” jj inquires, looking over at hotch, concern crossing her features. “wha- is she.. is she okay, how sick is she, did she say?”

hotch raised his brows, a little surprised at the bombard of questions. “no, she just said she’s sick.”

jj nodded and gulped, she thought about just up and leaving, to go see if you were alright, but she knew that she couldn’t, she had a job to do, and you were an adult, you were able to take care of yourself just fine.

but the thought of you being so sick and alone makes her heart clench, she can barely focus on her work, so she quickly excuses herself to make a call, maybe if you sounded okay, she’d be able to ease some of her anxiety.

her phone dialled a few times before you pick up. “jayj?” you say carefully down the phone, she can hear the sickness in your voice by the rasp of your throat, and the way your speech is a little slurred.

“are you alright?” she asked quickly. “you’re not here, hotch said you were sick.”

“yeah a little, i think i caught the flu off henry.” you say a little chuckle in your voice, which makes you cough. you pulled the phone away from your face, so it was a little muffled for jj but she had seen enough sick kids, and coughs to know that hurt you.

“i’m coming to look after you.” she states into the phone once you put it back to your ear, you’re quickly protesting. “i’m fine jayj, honest honey, it’s just a little cold, i can handle it just fine.”

jj frowns down the phone, you didn’t want her to help, but she really couldn’t leave you like this, she sighs, her mind made up. “okay, just, call me if it gets worse.”

“i’ll be fine, but okay.”

the phone line ends and jj sighs, she never said she wouldn’t come and check on you, but she’d do that later, she had to finish some work first.

you were not fine, because an hour later on her break jj decided to come visit you, already having a key to your place she entered without warning, looking around for you until she found you in bed, eyes droopy, nose red, and running a fever.

you groaned when you felt her place her hands on your head, “don’t, you’ll get sick.” you say pulling away from her, making her frown. “you know i have an amazing immune system.”

“but..” you begin, trying to find an excuse. “you have work.”

“would you please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.”

you sigh, knowing both of you are as stubborn as each other, and you knew jennifer wouldn’t leave you alone, not when she’d seen you in the state you were in.

“what about work?” you ask sniffling sitting up carefully. “spencer texted me, there’s a tough case right now.”

“they’ll be fine without us for one day.” jennifer smiled, brushing her hand across your cheek.

you lean into her palm, not knowing how much you’d need her comfort until you had it. “i’ve got a headache.” you mumble, giving into her care, making her smile softly at you, everything about this felt so domestic, so right.

“i’ll go get you some medicine, and once your fever comes down i’ll run you a bath, and we can binge watch our favourite show.” jennifer suggests. “how’s that sound.”

“perfect, thank you.”

#jj x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

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xoxoavenger · 2 years ago

Text

Days of Future Past

pairing: Young!Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

summary: What if Charles had a wife in the 70s? And what if she was pregnant when Logan came to visit?

word count: 5071

warnings: canon typical violence, pregnancy, addiction

part two

masterlist birthday celebration masterlist

"I got it!" Y/N yelled as someone knocked on the door. She wiped her hands on her apron, as she had been making dinner when the knock sounded, and went to go open the door. When she made her way to the lobby, however, Hank was already talking with the man outside. He forcefully made his way inside, and Y/N crossed her arms over her stomach.

"Hey! I said the school's closed. You need to leave." Hank yelled after the man, but he was still making his way inside.

"Not until I see the professor." The man said, and Y/N stepped forward.

"There's no professor here, sir. Maybe you should get along." She said, and Hank protectively went to her side.

"Y/N! I didn't know you'd be h - you're pregnant?" The man said, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know my name?" She asked, taking another step forward. The man sighed. He looked annoyed and worn out, but Y/N really didn't care.

"Look, someday, we're all gonna be good friends. You just don't know it yet." The man said to the both of them, before punching Hank in the face. Y/N dropped to his side as he fell to the ground, letting the man walk up the stairs. What did he mean by that? And if they were supposed to be 'friends,' why did he punch Hank?

"That son of a bitch," Hank grumbled out, rubbing his cheek.

"Professor?" The man called, and Y/N immediately rushed to follow the man up the stairs and to the left, Hank still on the floor. Charles was having a hard time, and he needed more help than Hank would.

"Sir, I don't know who you think you are, or who you think you're looking for, but-" Y/N cut herself off as a blue Hank went barreling past her. Her eyes widened, watching the two fight down the hallway. She stood with her back against the wall as Hank threw the man across the stairs, jumping after him. He then proceeded to throw the man all the way down the stairs, onto the table in the lobby. The door across the hallway from her opened, and Y/N was met with blue eyes.

"Charles," She greeted, surprised as Charles emerged from their room. They heard growling, and the two made their way to the main lobby, Y/N pulling off her apron and putting it on the bannister.

"Hank? What's going on here?" Charles yelled, and Y/N followed silently down the stairs.

"Professor?" The unnamed man said.

"Please don't call me that." Charles requested, and Y/N frowned. She looked at Hank, who was hanging upside down on the chandelier directly on top of the man. She put her head down, staying silent. When Charles first lost his legs, he didn't seem to care as much. It was only when his friends, his family, began to get drafted for the war that Charles fell, and hard. She had tried her best to get him to lay off the serum, especially because she was pregnant. She had found out a couple weeks after they had opened the school, right before people were getting drafted. She tries not to think about the fact that he may have been better off if she hadn't been in his life, if she wasn't carrying his child. She would never voice her thoughts, however, and it was much easier to pretend now that he no longer could read her mind.

Sometimes they even pretended she wasn't pregnant, that they weren't mutants.

"Why? Do you know this guy?" Hank asked. Y/N still didn't dare look up. She didn't want to make things worse, didn't want to set Charles or Hank off even more. Both were clearly stressed out, and she was stuck not being able to help either. The easiest thing for her to do was shut up and make food.

Speaking of food, she should probably go back there.

"Yeah, he looks slightly familiar. Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank." Charles said, his voice already slurring. If he hadn't been paralyzed and she hadn't been pregnant, he wouldn't have been drunk already. Hank flipped off the Chandelier, and the man began to slowly sit up.

"You can walk." Y/N heard the man say, and she snapped her head up. What did this guy know? Who was he to know that Charles hasn't always been able to walk? All thoughts of her going back to the food was abandoned in favor of backing up Charles.

"You're a perceptive one." She said, and Charles gave her a look as he walked down the stairs. She rolled her eyes, beginning to talk over the man that was already talking. She was breaking her number one rule, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I thought Erik-"

"Which makes it slightly perplexing that you managed to miss our sign on the way in." Y/N said, and Charles looked at her before finishing the talk.

"This is private property, my friend. I'm gonna have to ask him to ask you to leave." Charles sat down on the last step, and Y/N rushed down the steps to his side, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, because, uh, because I was sent here for you." The man said, and Charles looked at Y/N, but his expression was blank. He looked back to the man.

"Well, tell whoever it was that sent you that I'm-" Charles lead off, looking at Y/N once more. His gaze rested on the bump that was currently fanning out the dress she had on. "Busy, obviously." He finished, and Y/N looked back to the man.

"That's gonna be a little tricky, because the person who sent me was you." The man said, taking a deep breath.

"What?" Y/N and Charles said at the same time, although Charles seemed less interested than Y/N. She didn't quite understand all the things he understood, and right now she was lost.

"About fifty years from now." The man continued, and Y/N released Charles' arm to hold her head in her hands. How was that supposed to work?

"Fifty years from now? Like in the future, fifty years from now?" She asked, looking back up at the man. She knows she needs to stop talking, but suddenly life was flipped and she forgot to remember herself for a moment.

"Yeah." The man confirmed.

"I sent you from the future." Charles said. He definitely wasn't believing it.

"Yeah." The man confirmed again, and Y/N looked over to see Hank shaking his head.

"Piss off." Charles said, and Y/N stood, rising tall to intimidate the man. It wasn't working.

"You have some nerve showing up here, punching Hank and making fun of Charles. How did you even know my name?" Y/N asked, walking closer to the man, but he looked around her at Charles.

"If you had your powers, you'd know I was telling the truth." He said, and Y/N punched him before she could even think about it.

"Woah, woah, woah." Hank said, him and Charles going to her side to pull her back. Hank hung onto her while Charles stared at him.

"How do you know I don't have my," Charles led off, and the three shared a look. "Who are you?" Charles asked again.

"I told you." The man said, but Charles didn't believe him.

"Are you CIA?" Charles asked.

"No."

"You been watching me?" Charles asked, and Y/N felt her heart rate pick up as she knew Charles' was as well. She got anxiety for Charles ever since he was shot, and she hated the feeling.

"I know you, Charles. We've been friends for years. I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. And it wasn't until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head. Do you want me to go on?" The man spoke, and Y/N stared at Charles. After a moment, he turned to her, silently asking if she had said anything. She shook her head, because first of all, why would she tell, and second of all, who would she tell?

"I only told Y/N that." Charles said quietly.

"One day, you'll share your story." The man said, and Y/N turned to look at Hank, who was just staring. She was so confused and tired and she just wanted to go back to making dinner while Hank worked and Charles drank.

"Alright, you've piqued my interest." Charles said, and Y/N moved closer to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

"Charles, we don't even know who this guy is. He could be a telepath. We don't know anything except he came in here and started a fight with Hank." Y/N said, but Charles shrugged her off.

"What do you want?" Charles asked, and Y/N frowned.

"We have to stop Raven. I need your help. We need your help." The man said, and Y/N stared at Charles, heart breaking at the pained look on his face. He looked down. She knew how close Raven and Charles were, even mistaking it for romantic love and not sibling love. This man bringing her up did not help his case.

"I think I'd like to wake up now." He said, walking away. Y/N tried to grab his hand, but he slid out without so much as a look. She turned to see Hank's blue appearance going back to normal.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's going through some tough times." Y/N said, head down as she followed Charles' path. He was pouring himself a drink when she walked into the room. She leaned against the desk, trying to alleviate the pain in her feet from standing. She had been standing while making dinner, and she had half a thought to go finish it.

"I don't need my powers to know you're in pain. Why don't you sit down?" He suggested. She sat in his chair, close to where he was still pouring his drink. She almost put her feet on the desk, but thought better of it.

"You shouldn't drink so much. What are you going to do when the baby comes?" She asked, and he turned to see her slouching in the chair, bump stretching upwards. She had her hands around it, rubbing it, and Charles thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

It scared him to think that he was going to have to be in charge of another person soon.

"Drink more." He responded, and she frowned.

"Charles," She crossed her arms, and he turned and leaned against his desk to face her.

"You know I won't." He tried to comfort her, but she just shook her head.

"But you'll keep doing the useless treatments?" She asked, and he dropped his head.

"They aren't useless. You don't understand how hard this is for me." He said, and she rolled her eyes. She was tired of just letting this go because of him. She was hurting too.

"What, you think this is easy for me?" She asked.

be a good wife be a good wife be a good wife

The mantra repeated over and over in her head, and she took a deep breath. Charles was going through the hardest time he'd ever had in his life, and although she was too, she still needed to be there for him. It was her job.

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard." She said, and he shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing." He said, but he left it there. Not too long after their conversation was over, the man walked into the room with Hank.

"Just let me explain myself."

"So they took Raven's powers and weaponized it?" Y/N asked, and Charles was already pouring himself another drink. They had only been talking for 10 minutes, and Y/N rubbed her eyes. The food she was preparing had probably gone bad now, but she knew she couldn't leave Charles alone, not while he was halfway to shitfaced before dark.

"Yep." Was all the man - Logan - said. He had explained the future, explained how the four of them were all friends and Charles and Y/N's baby had mutant abilities too, but it was a lot of information to take in.

"She is unique." Hank said.

"Yeah, she is, Hank." Charles said with a smile. Y/N looked back to Logan to continue talking while Charles walked across the room.

"Look, in the beginning, the Sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants, who would eventually have mutant children and grandchildren." Logan turned to face Charles, who was now sitting on the couch. Charles looked at Y/N, and she heaved herself up, shuffling to sit next to him on the couch. He put an arm around her, then set his drink down, the other hand resting on her stomach. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to take in the moment. He was at the sweet spot, when he was drunk enough to forget that he was upset but not drunk enough to dwell in self pity.

"Many of the humans tried to help us. It was a slaughter, leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars. I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with her." Logan finished, but Y/N still didn't open her eyes. She moved a hand to Charles' chest, her head resting above his heart. She never wanted this moment to end.

But then Charles removed his hand from her bump and leaned to pick up his drink, taking a swig before talking.

"Well, let's just say for the sake of," He paused, his knee starting to shake and his other hand going up to rub his eye. "The sake, that I-I choose to believe you. Raven won't listen to me." He said, leaning further into the couch and putting his arm farther down now so that he could feel her bump as well. She sighed, still not opening her eyes. "Her heart and soul belong to someone else now." Charles finished, and Y/N could tell that Hank was upset without looking at him.

She'd honestly rather be anywhere else than there at the moment.

"I know. That's why we're gonna need Magneto, too." Logan's sentence made Y/N's eyes shoot open as she looked at him with annoyance and fear, and she felt Charles tense as he chuckled.

"Erik? You do know where he is?" Hank asked, and Charles continued his breathless laugh.

"Yeah." Logan answered, and Y/N moved as Charles stood, putting his drink down and moving further away from her, laughing like a mad man.

"He's where he belongs." Charles said, making his way to the door.

"That's it? You're just gonna walk out?" Logan asked, and Y/N stood, moving to see Charles when he walked all the way out the door.

"Oh, top marks. Y/N, you were right, he is perceptive." Charles was walking backward, away from them, and Y/N knew that she wouldn't get a peaceful moment with him again until he was asleep. Then, they would start the same day over again, until she had the baby. Who knows what would happen after that.

"The professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path. Especially someone he loved." Logan said as Charles was almost to the stairs. Charles then stepped back, turning to the three of them gathered to the door. Y/N started talking, but Charles talked right over her.

"You have no right to-"

"You know, I think I do remember you now. Yeah. We came to you a long time ago seeking your help. And I'm gonna say to you what you said to us then. Fuck off." Charles cut Y/N off. Before Y/N could blink, Logan grabbed Charles by his shirt and brought him close.

"Listen to me, you little shit. I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die. Good people. Friends. If you're gonna wallow in self-pity and do nothing, then you're gonna watch the same thing, you understand? You wanna watch her die?" Logan jerked his head to Y/N, and her blood ran cold. Charles looked at her as Logan let go of him, and then looked back at Logan.

"We all have to die sometime." Charles said, taking a drink and turning away, walking up the stairs. Y/N felt her knees give in, but Logan caught her, leading her to the couch, where she laid blank faced.

"Told you there was no professor here." Hank said, and Logan turned to Hank.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked Hank, but Y/N answered anyway.

"He lost everything. Erik, Raven, his legs. And then he finds out that not only has he lost his closest friends and is now paralyzed, he's also going to be a father." Y/N said emotionless. She was staring off, her face and mind blank. This happened often now, at times when Charles would stop caring about her. It was easier to shut herself off then deal with the pain. Hank knew what was going on, but he knew that there was nothing he could do for her, short of forcing Charles off meds.

"We built the school, the labs, this-this whole place. Then the war got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted. Everything going on, it just broke him. He retreated into himself. I wanted to help, do something, so I designed the serum to help treat his spine. Derived from the same formula that helps me control my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced, but," Hank trailed off as he walked around.

"He takes too much. He doesn't listen when we try to ease him back. He can't bear the pain, the voices." Y/N said, tears shrining to her eyes. As hard as she tried to bottle her emotions, it seemed the glass would always shatter and flood her mind anyways. "I want to be enough. I want him to be able to be happy without his legs, with a child, with me, but he's not. Why am I not enough?" She whispered, looking up to Logan. He sat in front of her legs on the couch.

"You are enough. He'll realize it. I promise." Logan said, thinking to his present, the world where Charles and Y/N lived almost happily ever after (minus the major wars they fought in). Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. She had barely drifted off when Charles' voice echoed through the room.

"I'll help you get her." He said, and Y/N sat up "Not for any of your future shite, but for her. And my," Charles lead off, and Y/N could tell he was trying to hold back his emotions. She stood to see him, but he didn't look at her.

"Son. For your son." Logan said, and tears immediately sprung to Y/N's eyes.

"We're having a boy?" Charles asked quietly. Y/N ran to him, and he wrapped his arms tight around her.

"I am so sorry, love." Charles said, and Y/N just shook her head against him.

She wished things would change, but change took time. She only hoped they had enough time.

She knew that although Charles was sorry, he was not going to stop. He was too deep now, it would take a lot more than knowing the gender of their child to get him to become sober once more. And although she wasn't allowed to go get Erik, she accompanied them on the jet to get to Raven. She despised staying alone while pregnant, and knew the others would take care of her. She'd be alright with them.

"So, you're pregnant." Erik said, looking over at Y/N. She sat on the couch with Charles, his arm around her loosely.

"Yes." Charles answered for her, and Erik continued to read the paper.

"And your powers?" Erik didn't look up again, and Charles' grip tightened on Y/N.

"The treatment for my spine affects my DNA." Charles answered simply, and Y/N cuddled closer, holding onto him tightly.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" Erik asked, and Y/N shut her eyes tightly, hands gripping Charles' shirt.

"I sacrificed my powers so that I could sleep. So that I could protect and care for my son." Charles' voice faltered, and she looked up at him.

"Charles, you can still care for the baby without your legs." Y/N said, but Charles just held onto her tighter.

"What do you know about it?" Charles shook his head, and she knew he was talking to Erik.

"I've lost my fair share." Erik said quickly. Y/N looked up at him. Had this monster really lost that much?

"Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done." Y/N said, and Charles rubbed her back and bump, trying to calm her.

"You have no idea what I've done." Erik said, and Y/N stood, Charles trying to get her to sit down. She was too enraged though, at the man who had practically taken her life from her.

"You took Charles' legs, his power. You took away the things that mean the most to him." Y/N said with tears in her eyes. Charles frowned from the side, upset that she didn't think she mattered the most, because she did, her and the baby. Erik was enraging him too, now.

"Well maybe he should have fought harder for them." Erik responded, and Charles stepped in front of Y/N, as Erik was rising from his seat.

"If you want to fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!" Charles yelled.

"Charles," Y/N said.

"Sit down!" Logan commanded. All their voices were coming at once.

"Let him come." Erik responded, and Charles lunged forward, grabbing Erik by his shirt.

"You abandoned me! You took her away and you abandoned me!" Charles yelled, and Y/N sat down, feeling sick. It was as if she didn't matter, as if she weren't even there.

"Angel. Azazel. Emma. Banshee." The plane began creaking as Erik spoke, and Logan was next to Y/N, the two of them holding onto each other as the plane shook. She fought to keep the bile rising down.

"Mutant brothers and sisters all dead!" Erik yelled, and Y/N felt Charles at her side. She clung to him as Logan clung to the couch. The plane began to tilt, and they slowly fell to the other side against the wall. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as she held on to Charles as tightly as she could.

"Erik!" Y/N yelled, but it was like he didn't hear her.

"Countless others experimented on, butchered."

"Erik!" Hank yelled from the cockpit, and Y/N let out a sob. She had never been this afraid, not even when Charles had lost his legs, or when she found out she was pregnant. She tried to resit the urge to puke, and she could feel it in the back of her mouth.

"Where were you, Charles?" Erik asked, and they began falling toward the cockpit. They let out a groan as they hit another wall, Charles holding Y/N as close as he could. "Where were you when your own people needed you? Hiding! You and Hank and Y/N! Pretending to be something you're not!" Erik yelled. They were falling at a quick rate, and Y/N let out more sobs, silently praying.

"Erik, please, she's pregnant!" Hank bargained, and as the plane went back to normal and the two fell into a seat, Y/N felt dizzy. She was resting against Charles, but she knew it wouldn't last long.

"You abandoned us all." Erik said, and then he looked straight at Y/N. "And now you're abandoning her." Erik said, and that was the snapping point for Y/N. She stumbled to the bathroom, almost tripping multiple times on the short walk. She finally made it there, where she threw up, struggling to catch her breath. She felt someone bring her hair back, and she wiped her lips before turning and looking. She expected to see Logan, but she instead saw Charles. She almost started crying again, and he held her in his arms.

In the five months she had been pregnant, Charles had never come to her aid while she was sick. She knew it was hard for him, but this showed he was getting better. Maybe one day, everything would be okay.

They arrived back at the mansion after an unsuccessful mission, and Y/N felt the progress that had been made being washed away as Charles began struggling. They had just walked into the mansion when Charles fell to the ground groaning.

"Charles!" Y/N shrieked, going to his side. Hank went to his other side, grabbing him.

"What happened?" Logan asked, but no one answered.

"Come on, up." Hank heaved Charles up, and Charles began panting.

"Why can't he walk?" Logan asked, and Y/N put a hand over Charles' own, which was raised to his head.

"He needs his treatment." Y/N responded, Hank placing Charles against the wall.

"Hank, Y/N, I can hear them!" Charles groaned, and Y/N's heart dropped.

"I know, baby. It's okay. It'll all be okay." Y/N responded.

"Can you make it stop?" Charles asked quietly, and Hank was already walking away.

"I'll go get it." Hank said, rushing up the stairs. Charles grunted, pressing his hands against his head. Y/N pushed his hair out of his face, kissing his forehead.

"Hey, hey! Pull yourself together. It's not over yet." Logan said, and Charles opened his eyes and put his fingers to his temple, looking at Logan. Y/N sighed, licking her lips and then turning, because she knew that Charles was about to use his powers for the first time in awhile.

"You don't believe that." Charles said, and Logan's face changed. Y/N turned back to Charles, coaxing his hand down.

"How do you know?" Logan asked, and Y/N just kept caring for Charles, trying to comfort him. It broke her heart to see him in pain like this.

"As these go," Charles put a hand on his leg. "This comes back." Charles put a hand back up to his head. He pressed both hands back to his head. "They all come back." He moaned, panting.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Charles. You're gonna be okay, baby. Look at me, it's okay. I'm here." Y/N comforted. She hoped this would be the turning point, where he wouldn't take the serum again.

"Look, she's still out there." Logan said, and Charles reached down to undo his shirt sleeve, pulling it up his arm. "But we need your help, Charles. Not like this. I need you." Logan said, and Y/N continued to push the hair out of his face.

"Charles, slow down." Y/N stopped him from fully hitching his shirt sleeve up.

"We can't find Raven; not without your powers." Logan said softly. Y/N looked at Charles, wiping the hair out of his face.

"You're strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You can do this." Y/N whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She just hoped it was enough.

"I, uh, I added a little extra because you missed a dose." Hank said as he bounded down the stairs. Y/N backed up, giving Charles room to make his decision. Charles grabbed the syringe, and Y/N turned her head, not able to watch.

"Charles." Logan warned, turning towards him. Charles aimed the syringe, and Y/N could hear his whimpers. She waited for it to be over, so when she heard Charles exhale and the clink of the syringe as he put it down, she turned to look at him. He sniffled, and she realized that he hadn't taken the shot. He looked at her, but then looked down, ashamed. Y/N grabbed his hand, and he squeezed hers, shutting his eyes tight before opening them.

"Uh, H-Hank, do me a favor. Would you help me to my study, please?" He looked so young as he shook slightly, squeezing Y/N's hand once more before letting Hank grab his arm.

"Come on, I got you." Hank told Charles. Y/N let her hand slip out of his, watching silently as the two made it to the study.

Only then did she let the tears fall.

"Y/N," Logan put a hand on her shoulder, and she lost it, falling to her knees as she sobbed. Logan kelt with her, keeping a hand on her shoulder but otherwise not getting to close. She had her hands covering her mouth, eyes squeezed tight as tears somehow still escaped.

"Thank you." She whispered through her tears, shifting to sit on the ground. She turned to face Logan now, eyes wide. "Thank you so much." She whispered. Logan nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Ya know, he would have eventually come off the serum, even if I hadn't been here. It was really you." He told her, and she just nodded. Logan helped her up, and she wiped her tears, sniffling as they made their way into the study. Charles was still shaking, sitting on a chair, and Y/N took a deep breath as she stood next to him. He slipped his hand back into her's, and this time she squeezed his as Hank opened the door.

"Are you sure about this?" Hank asked as they looked at the wheelchair in the closet.

"Absolutely not." Charles told him, but Hank got it out anyway. He helped Charles into the chair, and everyone was silent as they tried not to look at him. Hank and Logan shared an expression before leaving, Y/N sitting down in the chair across from him.

"I, um, just so you know," Y/N said, wiping her tears and hoping they wouldn't fall and cause Charles to think about it to much. "I've never cared if you could use your legs. Or, um, I never - I don't care if you don't want your powers. I just - I only want you to be happy. I don't want you to keep drinking. I don't want you to destroy yourself before your son even gets to meet you." She was struggling to keep her sobs in, and Charles reached forward and grabbed her hand.

"It's okay, Y/N, hey." Charles moved forward as much as he could to wipe her tears, and she grabbed one of his wrists.

"Charles," She whispered, and he felt the tears roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you." He sniffled, and she turned to kiss his palm. "I know that it wasn't easy for you. I know I haven't made things easy for you. But I still love you. And I can do better. I promise to do better." Charles told her, making her let out a sob.

"I'm just happy you're still the man I fell in love with."

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya @thefandomplace @punzoquack

#young charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier #young charles xavier x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #x men #x men x reader

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