#I feel like I drew her waist too small

[dailylulururidoodles]

We interrupt the comic by showing off bunny girl Lulu!

This was meant for Easter but I wasn’t gonna finish in time :p I still wanted to finish it however!!!!

[deathbxnny]

Hi I love your writing!! can I request headcanons of arcane characters if they’re s/o was blind??💕

Arcane characters with a s/o that's blind! | Ekko, Vi, Jinx, Viktor x Gn! Reader

I absolutely love this idea, so thank you very much for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: Reader is blind/visually impaired, romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》EKKO

He doesn't treat you any differently than anyone else, just based on your disability, but still does his best to make the hideout as accessible as possible for you. Ekko never wants you to feel like a burden either.

He definitely sometimes forgets that you're blind and asks your opinion on things he was looking at aa if you could see them too. He gets very embarrassed after realising, but you at least find it endearing.

Anyone who comments on your disability negatively will be dealt with. The last thing he wants is for you to feel bad about it when you should feel supported instead.

Allows you to touch his face or hair whenever you want, since that's the best way for you to visualize him. He'll shyly deny any compliments you give him but is deep down very flattered that you find him handsome even with your inability to see.

Since you can't fly a hover board on your own for obvious reasons, he often takes you on rides himself. He'll keep a tight hand around your waist whilst he enjoys the sight of you giggling and laughing in the evening sun with him.

》VI

God forbid anyone ever mistreats you or speaks badly about your disability because she won't hesitate to end them. You definitely have to hold her back at least once a day from putting someone 6 feet under.

With that said, she's extremely overprotective, perhaps near overbearing at times. She doesn't want you to accidentally get hurt or lost, especially when you're walking around Zaun.

She guides your fingers across her many tattoos, hoping you'll be able to visualize what they look like that way when you're curious about them. Vi is thankful that you can't see her red face.

She definitely also sometimes forgets your blind, which always ends up in a laughing fit for you. Hearing her embarrassed apologies always makes you feel so at ease about your disability.

》JINX

She was fascinated by you from day one. Something about you perceiving the terrible world she grew up in so differently drew her to you deeply. You couldn't see the flaws across her face and body or the shimmer that glowed in her eyes and ruined her from the inside. No, you saw her soul, and that's what made her love you.

Her hideout is practically baby proofed for you with special handrails and fences that protect you from accidentally falling off. It took her days to make, but seeing your excited face at the accessibility made it all worth it.

Jinx and Isha always hold your hand when walking around outside, as Zaun, just so you don't get lost or hurt.

Anyone who tries hurting or insulting you is as good as dead, so you never have to worry about a thing with her around.

》VIKTOR

He understands you better than anyone else due to his own disability. He never wants you to feel like he does and therefore makes sure you don't feel like a burden or discouraged by it.

Viktor makes many little inventions for you that help you around the house or in public. Whether it's for navigating the city safely or cooking up a meal completely on your own without incident, everything he does is for you to strengthen your sense of independence, since he knows you can't always rely on him.

He takes small walks around campus with you and describes your surroundings in great detail whilst holding onto your hand tightly.

Viktor also definitely likes to joke that you're matching whenever you both are out with a cane in hand. Hearing you giggle about it every time makes his day.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Night out || Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: A night out with your boyfriend and Madelyn and waking up to pictures of you and Drew circulating around social media.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1,591

A/n: Send me drew starkey requests pleaseeeeeee

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Look at you,” Drew says with a playful grin, his eyes tracing every detail of your outfit with admiration. You giggle, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks as you catch your reflection in the mirror, pleased with your appearance. “What time are we meeting up with Mads again?” you ask, tearing your gaze away from the mirror to glance at Drew as he checks his phone.

“Uh, like right now,” he says sheepishly. Your eyes widen in surprise. “Drew!” you exclaim, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in your voice. Without wasting a moment, you grab your perfume, quickly spritzing it on as you rush to the other room to retrieve your Sambas.

“I feel so bad for making her wait,” you mutter to yourself, hastily tying up your shoes. “It’s fine, babe. The drive is only like five minutes,” Drew reassures you, the keys jingling in his hand. You shoot him a playful glare, your bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout.

“Still!” you retort, a hint of mock annoyance in your voice. With a quick glance in the mirror to ensure everything is in place, you grab your bag and hurry out of your cozy Charleston home, Drew following closely behind.

In the car, you carefully apply a layer of lip gloss, glancing at yourself in the visor mirror. Drew’s hand rests warmly on your thigh as he admires you, his eyes filled with affection. Feeling his gaze linger, you turn to him with a smile. “What?” you ask playfully, catching his eye.

Drew grins, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your inner thigh. “You’re just so pretty,” he gushes, his voice full of admiration. You giggle, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Thanks, babe,” you reply, your heart fluttering.

~

“I’m so sorry we’re late,” you apologize as you and Madelyn go in for a hug, embracing each other warmly. “No, it’s okay. I was sorta late too,” Madelyn chuckles, pulling away from the hug with an understanding smile. Drew joins in, pulling Madelyn into a hug as well. “Hey Mads,” he greets, smiling down at her. “Hey Drew,” Madelyn replies, pulling away from the hug and smiling up at him.

You three catch up, ordering drinks and food, simply enjoying each other’s company. As the night rolled on, the three of you decided you wanted to walk down the street to your guys’ favourite bar.

It was around 11 at night, and the streets of Charleston were still bustling with a few people. “Wait, I’ll just go to the bathroom,” Madelyn says just as you step outside. “Want me to come?” you offer, concerned. “No, it’s okay, I’ll be quick!” she assures you with a smile as you nod in understanding.

Drew pulls you close to him, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively as you wait for Madelyn to return. “Do we have any choc chips in the fridge?” you randomly ask, looking up at Drew.

“I doubt it, why?” He chuckles as you couldn’t help but smile, “I wanted to make choc chip pancakes in the morning,” You say, “I’ll just buy them tomorrow,” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer. “Thank you,” You smile, going up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

“You lovebirds ready?” Madelyn calls out. You and Drew turn your heads toward her, both smiling. A playful grin spreads across your face as you step away from Drew, immediately missing the warmth of Drew. Linking arms with Madelyn, you share a glance. She sticks her tongue out at Drew, who feigns offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

Drew walks behind the two of you as you giggle about something Madelyn said. The sight is pretty amusing—how small the two of you look next to him, with Drew towering behind like a protective shadow. It’s almost as if he’s your loyal Doberman, following closely and keeping an eye on his favourite people.

The three of you arrived at the bar and immediately ordered drinks, though Drew opted for just iced water since he was the designated driver. The atmosphere was relaxed and cozy, with only a few people scattered around. After about an hour, Madelyn decided to head out, mentioning her early start the next day.

The bar was nearly empty, the clock inching past midnight, but you and Drew decided to stay. The two of you continued to chat, enjoying the quiet intimacy and the time together. His hand rested on your thigh as you talk about something, his eyes watching your side profile in awe at how lucky he was.

“We ready?” Drew asks, downing the last of his water. You hum in agreement, getting up and thanking the bartender, who returns your smile warmly. With a final glance around the nearly empty bar, you head out into the night with Drew by your side.

~

Waking up, your hand moves across to Drew’s side of the bed, only to find it empty. Lifting your head from the pillow, you catch the faint sound of music coming from the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, you slide out of bed, your feet hitting the cool floor. As you leave the bedroom, Bella, your cocker spaniel, trots up to you, her tail wagging enthusiastically.

You crouch down, scooping her up into your arms, her soft fur warm against your skin. With Bella nestled comfortably, you head towards the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, you spot Drew at the counter, mixing something in a bowl with his back turned to you. “Morning,” you say softly, catching his attention. He turns around, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Mornin’, baby,” he greets, his voice filled with affection. You walk up beside him, and he instinctively wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Curious, you peer into the bowl.

“You’re making pancakes?” you ask with a smile, looking up at him. Drew grins down at you. “Mhmm, I got the choc chips in the fridge. Could you grab ’em for me?” he asks. You put down Bella, who trots off happily, and head to the fridge to fetch the chocolate chips, feeling a surge of affection for Drew and his sweet gesture.

“I didn’t start them too long ago, so sit down,” Drew says, giving your ass a light pat as you pass by. You lean up to kiss his cheek, “Thank you,” you say warmly before heading to the other side of the kitchen to make your coffee. The aroma of freshly ground beans fills the air as you start the coffee maker, glancing back at Drew, who’s humming along to the music, focused on making the pancakes.

You settle down on one of the kitchen stools, enjoying the comforting warmth of your coffee as you watch Drew mixing the batter . Scrolling through your phone, you’re suddenly interrupted by a FaceTime call from Madelyn.

“Mads is calling,” you inform Drew before answering the call. Maddy’s cheerful face fills the screen as you prop your phone up on the counter. “Hey!” You greet her as she does replies in the same cheerful tone.

“I’m getting my hair and makeup done right now, and I got bored, so I called,” Maddy explains, chuckling as she looks up to let the makeup artist do her eyeliner. “Hey Maddy!” Drew calls out.

“Hey Drew!” she greets back, her voice bright. “What are you doing?” Madelyn questions Drew as you flip the camera around to focus on him. He’s in the middle of flipping a pancake, his expression concentrated yet relaxed. “Making pancakes,” he replies with a smile “Stoppp, you’re making me hungry. I haven’t had breakfast yet,” she groans, letting out a loud sigh.

“Where in Charleston are you? We can drop some off if you want?” you offer, genuine concern in your voice. Maddy smiles gratefully at your kindness. “You’re too sweet, y/n. Thank you, but I feel bad making you drive out to me. I’ll just ask my manager to get an açai bowl or something,” she replies, her gratitude evident. You hum understandingly, appreciating her consideration.

~

After about ten minutes of casual conversation, Maddy brings up something that makes both you and Drew pause mid-chew. "What are you talking about?" you ask as Drew pulls out his phone.

"Are you guys living under a rock? It's all over social media right now. I thought you would've found out last night or at least this morning," Maddy says, sounding surprised.

"No, we haven't been on social media at all since we left the house yesterday afternoon," you explain while Drew opens Instagram and heads to the explore page. Almost instantly, you spot what she's talking about. "Oh, I see it," you say, leaning closer to get a better look at the post.

drewstarkeyupdatez

Liked by 1,947,208 people

Drew and his partner y/n spotted out in Charleston tonight!!

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"Aww, these picture is really cute," you smile, swiping through the images as Drew chuckles beside you. "Oh, and one of the workers at the bar made a TikTok about seeing us there. They even took a photo of you guys from the CCTV camera," Maddy adds, "I'll send you the TikTok too."

(the pic)

With Drew being a well-known celebrity, you're used to pictures of you both popping up on social media. Still, you always enjoy looking at them, finding them wholesome and cute.

[lupinqs]

LOVE ACTUALLY ━━ wnba!paige bueckers x reader

𝜗𝜚 ━ summary: you and paige spend christmas together with your families.

𝜗𝜚 ━ word count: 5.5K

𝜗𝜚 ━ warnings: brief allusions to sex but really just pure fluff

𝜗𝜚 ━ links: my masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ━ author’s note: i wrote this when i was drunk out of my mind and i did not proofread so take that as you will. anyways merry christmas!

IT’S CHRISTMAS MORNING in Connecticut, the soft hush of snow outside only adding to the cozy warmth inside your childhood home. You and Paige flew in a couple days ago, grateful to spend the holiday surrounded by both of your families. Paige’s dad and her little brother, Drew, made the trip from Maryland, too, making it all the more homier.

The last year and a half has been a whirlwind. Moving across the country to Dallas was one of the hardest decisions you’ve ever made—graduating from UConn and then immediately leaving behind your friends, family, and everything familiar to follow Paige as she chased her WNBA dreams. At the time, you weren’t sure if it was the right choice. But now, as you think about the life you’ve built together, you know it was worth every bit of uncertainty. You’ve got a great job, a cozy little apartment in Dalls, and Paige has already had two incredible seasons in the W. She’s thriving, and so are you, and being here now, with your families under one roof, feels like the perfect reminder of how far you’ve both come.

The two of you are curled up in your childhood bedroom, the soft hints of morning light glinting against the light pink walls. Paige’s bare skin is against yours, her arm draped possessively over your waist, her hand resting firmly on your hip. Your cheek is pressed against her shoulder, and you can feel her slow, steady breaths as they rise and fall beneath you. Everything about this moment feels so peaceful, so perfect, that you can’t help but linger in it.

Paige shifts slightly beneath you, and her fingers tighten their hold, pulling you closer. You tilt your head up to find her already looking down at you, blue eyes still heavy with sleep but soft with that familiar adoration that always makes your chest tighten. Her lips curve into a small, sleepy smile.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs, her voice husky and warm, roughened by sleep in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You smile back at her, your lips brushing the skin of her shoulder as you reply, “Merry Christmas.”

She leans down to kiss you, and it’s slow and unhurried, a perfect reflection of the way the two of you are easing into the morning. Her lips are soft against yours, her hand moving from your hip to your ass, squeezing gently as she deepens the kiss. Your body reacts instinctively, shifting closer, and Paige takes the opportunity to guide you over her, her hands steady on your waist as she pulls you to straddle her.

Her hands roam lazily over you, mapping the familiar terrain of your body as if she’s memorizing it all over again. The feel of her palms on your bare skin sends warmth pooling in your stomach, and your breath bitches when her fingers trail power, brushing against your inner thigh.

It’s enough to send your mind flashing back to last night, when Paige had you biting into your pillow to keep quiet, fucking you in a way that was far from appropriate with both of your families in the house, in the rooms just next door. It was reckless, but neither of you cared much in the moment. And judging by the way her fingers swipe teasingly at your clit now, she’s not feeling particularly concerned this morning, either.

A gasp escapes your lips, and Paige smiles against your mouth, her tongue sweeping in to claim yours in a kiss that’s deeper and more demanding. Just as her fingers begin to circle your clit lightly, the door knob rattles sharply, accompanied by Drew’s unmistakable voice.

“Why is the door locked? Wake up! We’re opening presents!”

The two of you freeze, and then Paige groans in frustration, pulling away reluctantly. She tilts her head back against the pillows, her hand coming up to drag across her face as she yells back, “We’re comin’! Go downstairs, we’ll be down in a sec!”

There’s a pause, then the sound of Drew retreating down the hall. Paige drops her head back to look at you, her expression equal parts annoyed and amused. “Always interrupting,” she mutters, leaning in to steal another slow, languid kiss.

You smile against her lips, your hand coming up to brush her hair back from her face. “We gotta get up,” you say softly, though you make no effort to move just yet.

She sighs, her arms wrapping around you to pull you closer for a moment longer. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, her lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

Eventually, the two of you untangle yourselves, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the bed to retrieve the matching Christmas pajamas Paige insisted on buying. Hers are just slightly too big, the waistband of the red plaid pants hanging low on her hips as she pulls on the soft cotton shirt. She tosses you your pair, watching with a lazy grin as you shimmy into them.

By the time you’re both dressed, Paige wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close for one last kiss before heading downstairs. When you get down there, the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of Christmas music fills the air. Your families are gathered around the tree, Bob offering you both a warm smile, your parents calling you cheerful “Merry Christmases” from the couch.

Drew has taken his role as gift sorter very seriously, picking up each package, reading the tags with exaggerated importance, and then delivering them to their respective piles like he’s Santa himself. You and Paige sit side by side on the floor, leaning into each other, your thighs pressing together as you watch. Her hand rests on top of yours, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, and it makes your heart swell.

Your older brother lounges beside you, watching Drew in amusement. His grin slowly shifts into something cheeky, though, as his gaze lands on you and Paige. He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Late night?” he asks, eyes glinting with mischief as they flick to the faint circles under your eyes.

Your cheeks flame instantly, and you seat at him, whispering sharply, “Shut up!”

He laughs, lea no no away just in time to avoid your second hit. “Hey, just sayin’,” he teases, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You both look a little… tired.”

Paige smirks beside you, clearly trying not to laugh, but you nudge her with your elbow, giving her a pointed look. She quickly schools her expression, though the amusement in her eyes is impossible to miss.

Your head snaps toward the couch, where your parents and Bob are chatting, thankfully oblivious to the exchange. You exhale in relief, shooting your brother a glare that promises retribution later.

Eventually, Drew claps his hands together dramatically. “Done!” he declares, plopping down onto the floor next to his own gut pile.

Your mom beams. “Stockings first!” she says, already reaching for her phone to start taking pictures.

Everyone does as she says, reaching for their stockings. You sift through yours, pulling out chocolates, fuzzy socks, and a cute little keychain your mom must have picked out. Paige grins as she pulls out a gift card, showing it to you like it’s a trophy. Drew’s stocking is filled with candy, which he immediately starts eating, and your dad jokes about how he gets socks every year without fail.

Your mom takes picture after picture and you roll your eyes in amusement as she pointedly tells you to smile wider for the photos.

Once the stockings are emptied, it’s time for the real gifts. The family settles into a rhythm, taking turns opening gifts. You and your brother exchange gag gifts that leave you both laughing, shaking your heads. When it’s Drew’s turn, you can’t help but feel smug as he opens your gift—a limited-edition jersey—and immediately declares it his favorite, much to Paige’s offense. She pouts dramatically, muttering, “I tried so hard,” which only makes you grin wider at her.

Her moment of redemption comes soon enough, though. Paige’s gift to your mom—one of those electronic picture frames that flashes different photos of your family—earns a gasp of delight. Your mom’s eyes shine as she hugs it to her chest, turning to Paige with a heartfelt, “Oh my gosh, Paige, sweetie!” She leans down to kiss Paige’s head, and you catch the faint blush on Paige’s cheeks. Your heart swells as you watch her fit so seamlessly into your family.

When Paige opens your first gift to her, you watch nervously as she opens the shoes she’s been eyeing for weeks. “Babe,” she groans, clearly thrilled but half-scolding you for indulging her obsession. You roll your eyes, telling her she deserves them, even if they barely have room in your already shoe-filled apartment.

Her second present from you is a new pair of Airpods, which were more of a last minute thing since she lost her pair on the flight here. She thanks you, knowing she needed them.

The last gift is the one you were just excited to give: a framed collection of her college jersey behind a collage of photos from her UConn career, the biggest one being of her holding up the natty trophy. There’s a handwritten note in the back of it, telling you how proud you are of her. You can’t take all the credit for it, though, as Nika helped you with a lot of it when she was visiting you and Paige in Dallas a few weeks ago. Paige’s eyes mist over as she stares at it, and she leans over to press a firm kiss to your temple, whispering how much she loves you in your ear.

Paige’s gifts to you are just as thoughtful. She starts with handing you a small box. You open it and gasp—they’re a pair of diamond earrings—actually, the pair of diamond earrings—you’d fawned over at some event you attended with Paige, where there had been a ton of different jewelry displays. “Shit,” you murmur, fingers ghosting over the diamonds. You’d seen the price tag on it, you know how expensive they were. You lean your head on Paige’s shoulder, saying, “Thank you, P.”

She grins before handing you your next one—a weekend getaway to a cabin in the Pacific Northwest. You’ve talked about wanting to go so many times, jokingly telling her you want to live out your Twilight dreams, and now here you are.

“Paige,” you whisper, staring at the printout of the reservation.

“You’ve been stressed,” she says simply, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You deserve this.”

The room falls quiet as you hug Paige tightly, everyone sifting through their opened gifts, satisfied. You think all the gifs have been opened, so you settle back, too, but then Paige’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Wait,” she says, her smile lighting up her face. “You’ve got one more.”

You narrow your eyes at her, exasperated. “Paige,” you groan, knowing she’s already gone overboard.

“Chill,” she laughs, waving off your protest. She gestures toward your brother. “Come help me.”

Confused, you watch as your brother jumps up eagerly, everyone else around the room exchanging knowing, excited smiles. You start to stand, too, but Paige shakes her head, her grin widening. “Stay here,” she tells you. “Be patient, babe.”

You sit back down, bewildered, as Paige and your brother disappear into the basement. Everyone else seems to be in on whatever this is, and you try to piece together the surprise, but you’re left empty-handed.

A few minutes pass before your brother and Paige finally emerge back from the basement. You immediately notice Cooper, your family’s golden retriever, darting ahead of them. His nails click against the hardwood floor as he bursts into the living room, tail wagging so hard it looks like it might propel him into the air. He’s a whirlwind of energy, bounding straight for Drew, who’s still sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper. Drew laughs, trying to push Cooper’s snout away as he eagerly licks at his face. The dog is clearly thrilled to finally be apart of the action after being booted to the basement during gifts because he was too hyper.

Your focus shifts back to Paige, who’s holding a large box in her arms. She’s being careful with it, her steps deliberate as she sets it down in the middle of the floor, a few feet away from you. The grin on her face is impossible to miss—it’s a mixture of pride, excitement, and something that feels almost mischievous.

Your eyes narrow immediately. “What is it?” you ask, suspicious.

“You see,” Paige replies, her tone teasing as she kneels beside the box. Her hands rest on the top of it, and she’s clearly holding back a laugh at the confusion on your face.

Your gaze darts to your brother, who’s leaning casually against the couch with a smirk. You turn back to your girlfriend, your suspicion growing. “Paige,” you say, dragging her name out. “If this is a prank…”

Paige gasps in mock offense, her blue eyes wide. “A prank? On Christmas? Would I do that to you?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, which earns a round of laughter from your family.

“Just open it,” Paige says, brushing off your sarcasm with a grin and a roll of your eyes.

You hesitate, shifting on the floor as you inch closer to the box. Something about it feels… odd. It’s big, but not heavy enough to be something truly large. And when you look closer, you think you see it move. Your breath catches, and you tilt your head, trying to hear.

You think you catch a noise.

Your heart starts to race as you reach for the kid, glancing at Paige one more time. “I swear to God,” you say, eyeing her.

“Just trust me!” she says, laughing now. Her eyes gleam, and her grin is so wide.

You lift off the lid, and for a second, you just stare.

Then, your entire face lights up.

“Wait, oh my God!” you exclaim, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Inside the box is a tiny golden retriever puppy, his fur soft and fluffy, his bright eyes blinking up at you curiously. He has a red bow tied snugly around his neck, and he’s pawing at the edge of the box, already eager to escape.

You don’t hesitate—you reach in and scoop him up, cradling him in your arms as he wriggles excitedly. He’s warm and small, his paws pressing against your chest as he stretches up to lick your face. His little tail wags furiously, and you can’t stop laughing as he covers you in emphatic kisses.

“Paige!” you gasp, still laughing as the puppy snuggles into your neck. “Oh my God! Are you serious?”

“Surprise,” she says, her grin impossibly wide. She looks proud, and there’s a soft warmth in her gaze as she watches you hold the puppy like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“I can’t—I—” you stutter, voice cracking slightly. Tears well up in your eyes as you hold the puppy close, his little head resting against your shoulder. “You really got us a puppy?”

Paige nods, sitting back on her heels. “I know how much you been wantin’ one,” she says softly. “So… he’s ours now.”

You blink back tears, your heart full as you look down at the tiny ball of fur in your arms. He lets out a soft tip and nuzzles closer to you, and you can’t stop smiling. “What’s his name?” you ask.

“Maverick,” Paige replies. “But I’ve been calling him Mav.”

“Maverick,” you repeat, testing it. It feels perfect, like it was meant for him.

You look back at Paige, your eyes shining. “When did you have time to do this?”

“They helped me,” Paige explains, gesturing to your mom and brother. “The day we got here, we went to pick him out while you went last-minute shopping. He’s been in the basement ever since, hanging out with Cooper and our brothers.”

Your mom smiles warmly from her spot on the couch. “It was all P’s idea,” she says. “She was so excited about it—she couldn’t stop talking about how much you’d love him.”

Your heart swells as you look at Paige, who’s trying to act nonchalant but is clearly basking in the praise. You lean over, the puppy still nestled in your arms, and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I love you,” you whisper.

Paige smirks, though there’s a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I know,” she says playfully, earning a soft hit to her arm from you.

The rest of the morning is a blur of excitement. Maverick becomes the center of attention immediately, with everyone wanting to hold him or pet him. Even Cooper seems thrilled about the new addition, sniffling bum curiously and then wagging his tail like he’s just made a new best friend.

But no matter how much everyone else tries to steal Mav’s attention, he keeps coming back to you and Paige. Like he belongs there. Which, you suppose, he does now.

THE SNOW FALLS steadily, blanketing the night in a soft, shimmering layer of white. The world feels hushed, as though the snow has pressed pause on everything else, leaving just you, Paige, and Maverick in your one little bubble. Your boots crunch against the snow-covered sidewalk as you tuck yourself closer into Paige’s side, desperate for any warmth you can find against the freezing cold. The icy air nips at your nose and cheeks, and your breath puffs out in visible clouds.

“I cannot believe you dragged me out here,” you grumble, your teeth chattering as another gust of wind cuts through your coat. “It’s Christmas night. It’s freezing. Who does this?”

Paige just grins, looking entirely unbothered by the cold. “You’ve lived here your whole life,” she teases, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she gives you a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Suck it up. You’re supposed to be used to this.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve gotten used to the Dallas heat,” you retort, because you have. Grumbling again, you burrow yourself deeper into your scarf.

Paige just laughs, reaching down to adjust Maverick’s leash as he bounds happily ahead of you, his tiny paws kicking up little sprays of snow. His golden coat gleams under the soft glow of the streetlights, and his tail wags furiously as he sniffs at the snowbanks on either end of the sidewalk.

“Look at him,” Paige says, gesturing to the puppy with a grin. “Look how happy he is. How could you not wanna be out here with him?”

You glance down at Mav, who’s clearly having the time of his life. You sigh, conceding the point. “Fine,” you mumble, pulling your coat tighter around you as you watch him hop through the snow like it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced.

The three of you continue down the street, the cold biting at your exposed skin, until you reach the town square just a block down from your house. It’s quiet and empty, just as you’d expected, but it’s so beautiful and familiar that you can’t bring yourself to complain anymore.

The little shops lining the square are all decorating for the holidays, their windows glowing warmly against the night. Twinkling lights are strung from lamppost to lamppost, and garlands of evergreen and red ribbon add a festive touch to the storefronts. The snow falls steadily, coating everything in a pristine layer of white, and for a moment, you feel like you’ve stepped into a scene from a Hallmark movie.

You glance over at Paige, and the sight of her bundled up in her coat and beanie, snowflakes caught in her golden hair, makes your heart squeeze. She looks over at you and grins, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

“Worth it?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

You huff, but you can’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “Maybe.”

She smirks, clearly pleased with herself, and gives Maverick’s leash a gentle tug to redirect him as he tries to nose his way into yet another snowbank. The three of you wander through the square until you reach the massive Christmas tree in the center. It’s a towering evergreen, wrapped in thousands of white and gold lights that cast a warm, inviting glow over the snow.

Paige slows to a stop near the tree, and you glance over at her, your breath catching slightly at the look on her face. She’s smiling softly, but there’s an unfamiliar nervousness—almost vulnerability—that overcasts her expression, making your heart stutter.

“What?” you ask softly as you tilt your head at her.

She steps closer, her gloved pinky brushing against yours before hooking around it gently. “This is where we first met,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost hesitant. “Remember?”

Of course you remember. How could you ever forget?

It had been five years ago, during one of those rare weekends when you’d been home from school in December. You’d been wandering the square with a fresh hot chocolate in hand, trying to find a Christmas gift for your mom. The snow had been falling just like it is now, and you’d been heading to the little jewelry shop on the corner when someone had barreled straight into your chest, spilling your drink all over you—and them.

That someone had been Paige.

You’d recognized her immediately, of course. Every student at UConn knew who she was—Paige Bueckers, the basketball sensation, the phenom. You were a freshman, she a sophomore, and you’d yet to see her on campus your entire first semester. But there you were then, seeing her in person for the first time, in—of all places—your coastal little hometown. It was the last thing you’d ever expected.

She’d been mortified, stumbling over herself as she apologizes and offered to buy you a new hot chocolate. You’d tried to brush it off, but she’d insisted, dragging you back to the little café to get a replacement. The two of you ended up talking while you waited for it, and when she found out you went to UConn, her eyes had lit up.

Somehow—still to this day, you’re not entirely sure how—she’d managed to get your number before you left. The next week, you’d hung out on campus for the first time. And from there, it had been history.

Now, five years later, you’re standing in the exact same spot, under the glow of the exact same Christmas tree, with the snow falling around you just like it had that day.

Your chest feels tight as you look at her, taking in the way the snowflakes catch in her hair, the way her blue eyes shine against the cold. She’s so beautiful it almost hurts.

“Of course I remember,” you whisper, your breath fogging up in the cold air.

You watch as Paige takes a little breath, her chest rising and falling as she glances down at the snow-covered ground. Her lips part, but no words come out right away. Her hands fidget slightly with Maverick’s leash, and the Paige Bueckers standing before you—this soft, nervous version of her—is such a stark contrast to the confident and often-times annoying girl you’re so used to seeing.

You tilt your head, eyebrows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, voice barely audible over the soft crunch of Mav’s paws in the snow.

But she shakes her head, glancing back at you with what might just be the softest smile you’ve ever seen. It’s disarming, and your breath catches in your throat a little at it. “I have another gift for you,” she murmurs.

You blink at her. “Paige, no,” you protest immediately, a small huff escaping your lips. She’s already gotten you more than enough—between the thoughtful, expensive presents she gave you earlier and the effort she’s put into making this Christmas perfect, you feel spoiled.

But Paige just shakes her head again, her smile widening just slightly as she takes a step closer, reaching for your gloved hands. You don’t resist as she pulls them out of your pockets and wraps her own around them, the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric. Maverick’s leash rests between both of your palms, the two of you holding him together.

“Stop,” she says softly, her voice almost teasing but laced with something deeper. “It’s fine. It’s just—this one’s a little… different than the others, ‘kay?”

Your brows furrow a little, still confused. There’s something in her expression—something hesitant and vulnerable, almost like she’s unsure of herself—and it makes your chest stumble. Slowly, you step closer, your eyes boring into hers as you whisper, “P, I don’t know what more you can give me. You’ve already given me everything.”

She lets out a breath at that, exhaling slowly. “Not everything,” she murmurs, eyes downcast.

You tilt your head in question, half-lost. “What d’you mean?”

Paige takes another deep breath, her hands tightening around yours just slightly. For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, and you can see her trying to gather her thoughts, her blue eyes darting away from yours and then back again.

“Okay, um…” she starts, her voice faltering a little before she lets out a nervous laugh. “I—I don’t really know how to say this, because I’ve been thinkin’ about this for so long, had it all prepared, but now that we’re actually here, it’s—it’s all just kinda gone away…”

Your heart is pounding now, your stomach twisting in anticipation. Paige is rarely like this—stuttering, stumbling over her words—and the fact that she is has you hanging on her every syllable.

She shifts her weight, glancing down at the snow-covered ground for a moment before looking back up at you. Her cheeks are even more pink than before, whether that be from the cold or nerves, and the look in her gaze makes your throat tighten.

“I love you,” she says finally, her voice steady now despite the nervous energy radiating off of her. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I can’t—I can’t even imagine a version of my life where you’re not in it. You’re—you’re my best friend, my person, my everything. And every time I think about the future, it’s you, always you. Every single time.”

Your breath catches, and you think your eyes begin to swim, though you’re not even entirely sure why yet. You squeeze her hands lightly, trying to reassure her even though you’re the one suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

“I want to do this forever with you,” Paige continues, her voice growing softer with each word. “I want every Christmas with you, every family gathering, every walk with Mav. I want you to be there for all my big moments, and I want to be there for all of yours. I just—I want you. Forever. And I don’t wanna wait anymore to tell you that.”

She lets go of one of your hands then, reaching into the pocket of her coat. For a second, you’re confused, your heart hammering in your chest as you watch her movements, and then—

Oh.

Oh.

Time seems to stop as Paige pulls a small, velvet box from her pocket and drops to one knee in the snow. Your eyes widen, your breath freezing in your chest as you stare down at her, completely locked in place.

She flips the box open, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. It’s simple yet stunning, a perfect match for you in every way, and the sight of it sends a rush of emotions flooding through you.

“Baby,” Paige says, her voice trembling slightly as she looks up at you with the most earnest expression you’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”

Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure she can hear it, and your eyes are completely flooded now.

Paige stays kneeling there, her gaze locked on yours, and she looks so hopeful, so full of love, that it takes your breath away. The world around you seems to blur, the snow falling softly around you and the glow of the Christmas tree lighting up the moment like something almost out of a dream.

You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but stare at her as the weight of what’s happening finally settles over you. Paige Bueckers—the girl who spilled hot chocolate on you five years ago, who turned your entire world upside down without even trying—is asking you to spend the rest of your life with her.

The words catch in your throat, tangled between a sob and a laugh, as you finally come to your senses. Your lips tremble, your heart racing faster than ever, and then it all bursts out at once. “Yes,” you choke, voice breaking. “Fuck, yes. Of course, baby.”

Paige lets out something between a laugh and a sob of her own, her grin so wide it’s almost silly. Her eyes are glistening with tears, matching yours, and for a moment, you’re both just staring at each other like you can’t quite believe this is real.

And then you move.

Instead of waiting for her to stand, you drop down into the snow with her, no longer caring about the cold or the fact that your pants are already damp. Your hands find her face as you crash your lips into hers, kissing her so deeply, so passionately, that it feels like your chest might explode from everything you’re feeling.

Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as the snow falls softly around you, your noses brushes and your tears mingling between the kiss. It’s emotional and raw and maybe the most meaningful kiss you’ve ever shared, the kind that feels like a promise all on its own.

When you finally pull back, breathless and overwhelmed, Paige presses her forehead against yours. Her eyes shine cerulean, her cheeks streaked with tears, but she’s smiling like she’s never been happier in her life. She presses one, two, three quick pecks to your lips, her grin only widening with each one.

You laugh softly, your heart still racing, and then she’s reaching for your left hand, gently tugging your glove off. Her fingers tremble slightly as she takes the ring from its box, sliding it onto your finger with the utmost care.

It fits perfectly.

Paige leans down, brushing her lips against the ring on your finger like it’s the most sacred thing she’s ever touched. “Perfect,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of awe.

And then, suddenly, Maverick bounds into the moment, pouncing between you and Paige with all the enthusiasm of a puppy who has no idea what’s just happened but is thrilled to be a part of it. His nose nudges your hand, and you both laugh as his tongue flicks out, licking the shiny new ring before jumping up to cover Paige’s face in kisses, too.

“Okay, okay!” Paige laughs, trying to fend him off but not really putting much effort into it. You giggle, reaching out to scratch behind his ears before pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

Paige skips her arm around your neck, tugging you close again. Her voice is soft but teasing as she murmurs, “Now I can finally call you my wife, and no one can complain ‘bout it.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile betrays how giddy you feel. “Still not your wife,” you correct, holding up your hand to show off the ring. “Fiancée.”

Paige just shakes her head stubbornly, her nose brushing against yours as she whispers, “Nah. Wife.”

And then she’s kissing you again, her lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air. Mav paws at both of you, trying to squeeze himself into the moment like he doesn’t want to be let out, and you laugh against Paige’s lips, your heart so full it might burst.

Because there, in the snow, at the very spot where you first met five years ago, the world feels impossibly small and endlessly vast all at once. This is a new beginning—the two of you, Maverick, and the life you’re going to build together. It’s the start of your family, the start of everything that comes next, and as Paige kisses you again, with snowflakes catching in her lashes and Mav pawing at your side, you realize with a sneaky feeling that love actually is—all around.

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[fairyrcts]

────୨ৎ──── cherry!reader & tattoo artist!matt headcanons !

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who met you for the first time by doing one of your tattoos

“uhm, no, rachel isn’t here today. you’ll probably be with me this afternoon.” he gave you a welcoming smile while he put on his black latex gloves.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who was intrigued by you within moments of meeting you

“what were you thinking?” he asked, preparing his workspace while you laid back on the bench.

“a pin-up doll, near my shoulder.” you spoke softly as matt looked down at you in some sort of adoration.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who loves making you his muse for his art

“stay right there f’me… perfect, baby. just perfect.” he breathed out, looking up from his sketch pad a few times as he drew the two bows that sat at the end of your braided hair.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who sits with you on his balcony smoking and having deep conversations

“it’s so nice out, tonight.” he took a drag of his cigarette after his sentence, looking out to the bustling city below them.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who loves teasing cherry

“matt!” you whined after he took a large sip of your diet coke when you specifically told him a small sip.

“sorry, sugar. couldn’t help it.” he spoke with a sly smirk on his face.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who lets you color in his tattoos

“are you coloring the cerberus red? seriously?” he chuckled under his breath as you looked up at him, nodding.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who definitely would have some type of claiming kink

“matt, what?” you look at him like he had just said the dumbest thing ever.

“what? you don’t think my name would look good in big ole’ letters across your neck?” he asked genuinely, letting his fingers run across your neck as if he was visualizing the tattoo itself.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who found herself staring from the second she met matt

“stay still, would you, hun?” he asked, slightly quieter than he intended.

you simply nodded, your eyes still sat on his face. the way he bit his bottom lip in concentration.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who loves doodling on him

“whatcha drawin’, sweet girl?” he asked, his left hand stroking your hair while you moved the ballpoint pen on his right.

“i dunno, ‘m jus’ doodling.” she giggled to herself.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who leaves her kiss mark on him

“look at that. all mine, hm?” you smiled down at the brunette that sat on your bed, his cheek and neck covered in your lipstick.

“yes ma’am.” he nodded, snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you down on him in the process.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who likes watching matt draw

his pencil moved rapidly on the paper while you stared. the way his veins became more prominent in his hands, how his brows furrowed while perfecting his art.

“what? why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” he huffed out a laugh. “just admirin’ you is all.” you smiled.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who leaves little hand-written letters for matt before he leaves for work

‘bye, handsome ! i love you , xoxo’ the end of the small note said. he smiled to himself, tucking the note in his pocket as a keep-sake.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who wears matt’s favorite pair of red, laced panties

“wearin’ those for me, doll?” he leaned down to whisper in your ear after noticing his favorite pair of your panties peaking through your jeans when you bent over.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who adores telling matt she loves him an excessive amount

“i love you.” you smiled, legs crossed sitting in front of him. “i love you too, beautiful.” he leaned in, pecking your nose lightly.

“like a lot.” you added. he rolled his eyes lightly. “i know you do. that’s the 13th time in the past five minutes.”

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ author’s note !

AHHH aren’t they the friggin cutest?? also like mentally i’m thinking like matt’s sorta older (late 20’s or early 30’s) and cherry’s younger so she kinda makes him feel like alive?? YOU FEEL?? but idk cuz i also wanna make a dilf!matt au so i gotta think this out

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ taglist !

@pvssychicken @emely9274 @emilyfaith2003 @nicholaschavezslut69 @sophand4n4

[freyaphoria]

"Why are you wearing my dress?" You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing your boyfriend as he admired himself in the mirror, adjusting 'your dress' on his slender frame. Seonghwa had always been this way; his fascination with your dresses and cute skirts was undeniable. He would often watch you intently as you applied your makeup, occasionally piping up with an endearing, "Will you do my makeup too?" These moments were utterly charming, reminiscent of a little girl watching her mother with wide-eyed wonder, eager to emulate her every move. Far from finding it irritating or tiresome, you cherished these interactions. In fact, you took great pleasure in helping him explore this side of himself, always ready to assist with his makeup or outfit choices. "Why? Doesn't it look good?" Seonghwa's voice carried a hint of anxiety as his eyes darted between you and his reflection. The brown material of the dress hugged his body in a way that seemed almost magical, accentuating his figure far more flatteringly than it ever had on you. It was as if the dress had been crafted specifically for him, every seam and fold perfectly placed. Unable to resist, you stepped towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warmth of his body against yours sent a subtle shiver down your spine as you whispered, "No, my star, you look like the brightest star in the sky like this.” Your hands began a gentle exploration, tracing the contours of his slim waist, marveling at how the fabric draped so elegantly over his form. Seonghwa's chest rose with a deep breath as he grasped your arms, gently maneuvering you to stand before him. His eyes, usually so confident, now held a glimmer of uncertainty. "I don't know, do you think this is too much?" The hesitation in his voice was palpable, a reminder that despite his love for wearing dresses, there was still a fragile vulnerability beneath the surface. He craved your reassurance, your validation. With a playful smirk, you replied, "Yes, it's too much, everyone who sees you will be drooling. They might forget you're mine." Your warm palm found its way to his smooth cheek, and you could feel the tension melting away from his body, his shoulders visibly relaxing under your touch. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he murmured, "Don't worry, I'm already yours, always and completely." Your hands glided from his cheeks to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his meticulously styled hair. With the gentlest of tugs, you drew his face closer to yours, your breath mingling as you whispered, "Then we should mark this perfect vision as mine, don't you think?" Your lips met his in a tender kiss, then trailed down to the exposed skin of his chest. The imprint of your lipstick blossomed on his skin like a vibrant flower, a beautiful testament to your connection. Pulling back to admire your handiwork, you couldn't help but smile. "There," you said, your voice filled with affection and a hint of possessiveness, "now you're even more breathtaking, my star." Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him in the dress, your lipstick mark a stark contrast against his skin. Then, with a quick glance at your own reflection to ensure you were equally presentable, you turned towards the door. "Come on, we'd better get going. We wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting, especially when you look this stunning."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(I wrote this in 3 minutes, sorry if there are any mistakes)

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Movie nights - Drew Starkey

Pairings - Drew Starkey & reader

Summary - movie nights with the friend group turns into reader and Drew not being able to control themselves.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, oral, language. 18+

A/n- this was a request but for some reason they have all disappeared from my inbox.

“I can just sit on the floor”

Everyone disagrees and chatter feels the room, your eyes fall on Drew who’s watching you from his seat on the couch. “Don’t be silly, just sit between Drew and I” Austin motions, he scoots himself further into the side of the couch and you stare at the gap.

It’s small, too small for your large bottom. You noticed Drew must have had the same thought as you caught him eyeing your lower half, he gave you a soft smile and patted the seat.

You stepped over Chase and Rudy who were sprawled out on the floor, snacks of various kinds sat between them. You slowly brought yourself down to the couch, you were definitely not going to fit.

Before you could stand back up, Drew’s hand snaked around your waist and pulled part of you onto his lap. You couldn’t steady your heart beat, it was going a million miles an hour.

“Comfy?” He questioned, all you could do was nod your head. Keeping your eyes in front of you, the movie had started but you had no idea what was happening.

All you could think about was Drew, your back pressed to his chest. His arm around your waist, your backside pressed to him.

You could feel his breath tickle your ear, his pointer finger rubbing soft circles into the exposed flesh of your hip. Your mind goes into overdrive, unintentionally you press back into him. Emitting a groan from his lips, your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

“You good?” Austin questions, he noticed your tensed body. You nod your head and give him a soft smile, turning your attention back to the movie.

You manage to focus on the tv for the next 10 minutes, trying to forget that you were nuzzled against Drew. The person you had been crushing on for the past 6 months, someone you had started to get to know slowly.

You met him at Austin’s birthday party, he had been praising the ground Drew walked on for months and finally you were going to meet your close friend's new buddy.

You both hit it off instantly, the conversation flowed between the two of you like you’d been friends for years. Austin loved that the both of you got on, he dragged you to everything for the past 8 months.

You had a hunch he was trying to set you up with Drew, he never said anything but the fact that you had been invited to everything was a telltale sign.

You knew you had caught feelings for Drew about 6 weeks after meeting him, you had stepped out of the ladies bathroom at lunch. Your eyes fell onto Drew who was chatting to a very attractive brunette, he had a cheeky grin on his face and he rubbed at his jaw slightly. You knew he was flirting with her, and that’s when you knew you liked him. Your skin felt itchy and your throat felt tight, you had to backtrack into the bathroom and calm yourself.

So it was especially difficult right now, lent against him. You were sure the absentminded circle he drew on your skin was nothing, the two of you had become affectionate. Usually you’d wrap your arm around his waist or he would hold your hand. It was friendly , affectionate, you assumed.

“You smell nice” he whispered into your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin. Shivers ran down your spine causing you to squirm against him, his hands steadying your hips against him. “If you move like that again you're going to be very uncomfortable” he whispered, his hand left your waist to readjust his crotch.

You visibly gulped, turning your head slowly to meet his eyes. His eyes were dark, full of what you assumed was lust. His lower lip was red raw, indicating he had been chewing at it. You couldn’t resist and you moved again, this time pressing your ass cheek to his crotch.

He was hard, so hard you were sure he was about to burst through his jeans. He let out another groan, but bucked his hips against you. “I’m not uncomfortable” you stated, pressing down onto him once again.

His hands held tightly onto the waist, the veins in his arms protruding.

“You don’t sound too good” Austin spoke, causing you to jump out of the bubble you had created around the two of you. He had a smirk on his face, you knew he knew exactly what was going on. “Y/n can you take him to the spare room?”.

“Oh yeah sure” you stood up quickly, grabbing a hold of Drew’s hand and practically dragging him out of her room. Patting him on the back to make it look like he had fallen Ill suddenly.

The moment the door closed, Drew pinned you against the staircase. His hands enveloped your face, his lips pressed against yours. You could hear your heart in your ears, thumping harshly as you kissed him. The blood running through your veins ran hot, your panties were soaking.

“Fuck.. I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he breathed, his breath was staggered and his chest thumped against your own. “You have no idea” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you against him, carrying you down the hallways towards the spare room.

He lay you against the bed, hovering over you. His eyes wandered your body, he seemed slightly nervous. So you made the move for him, unzipping your shorts for him. He gulped, pressing his lips to yours again. His fingers danced up the length of your thigh, palming your ass in his hand.

“Drew, please touch me” you whimpered, he squeezed your ass once more and moved to pull your pants down. You quickly reached up to bunch the material of his shirt in your hands and pulled it over his head, pressing a soft kiss to his pecks. “Fuck your so sexy” he groaned, you pulled your top over your head as he pulled his pants down.

You could see the hardness of his cock straining in his boxers, you're sure you saw it twitch but his lips were on yours again. Pressing his erection to your core, you whined into his mouth. Grinding your hips up and against him, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips.

You undid the front of your bra, your breasts pooling out. His eyes went wide at the sight of your hard nipples, his mouth enveloping around it. His tongue licked and his teeth nibbled, his other hand massaged your breast. Whines and moans slipped from your lips, you needed more.

You pulled his head away, pushing against his chest. “Stand up” you ordered, reaching for the waistband of his boxers. His eyes were on your face, studying you. He just about came when your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, thick and long. “Shit” you moaned, lacing your hand around the base of his cock. “What a pretty cock”.

You took this moment to look up at him, widening your mouth. You sucked his pink tip, his pre cum sending your taste buds into a frenzy. His hips jerked slightly as you continued to take him in, only slightly gagging as he touched the back of your throat. “Holy shit” he exclaimed, you watched on as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

His hand came around to hold the nape of your neck, his animal instincts kicked in. Forcing himself in and out of your mouth, you loved it. Your pussy was dripping, tears streamed down your face. His cock had your jaw aching but you could feel he was close, the veins in his cock throbbed against your tongue.

“Wait, I don’t want to come like this” he stated, pulling his cock from your mouth. A trail of spit between you two, he wiped your chin and then your cheeks. Pushing you down against the bed, he kissed up your legs until his face hovered over your cunt. “You smell so good” he whispered, pressing his lips to your clothed pussy,

“Fuck Drew, please please touch me” you begged him, your pussy was throbbing. You needed to feel him inside of you, his fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs. A trail of arousal followed, any other time you might have been embarrassed.

But the look on his face had you wideneding your legs for him, his eyes drinking in the sight of your pink wet pussy. He pressed a soft kiss to your folds, pressing his tongue between them. Opening you wide for him, he pushed your legs up against your chest.

Your aching hole staring back at him, you just about came from his nose grazing your clit. His tongue slid up and down your pussy, sucking on your swollen nub. Your hips rolling against his face, he pushed two fingers into your hole. The sounds your pussy was making would have you cringing usually but fuck was it hot with Drew.

“Oh fuck, Drew! I don’t think-“ you cried out, he entered a third finger as his mouth sucked at your clit.

Your chest was heaving, the buzzing in your ear was deafening. Your hole fluttering around his fingers, arousal soaked his hand. “DREW!” You cried, your orgasm hit you like a wave. Swallowing you under, you struggled to breath as your body shook from such pleasure.

His kisses on your stomach brought you back to reality, you were dazed. His smile had you weak at the knees, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a condom, you watched as he ripped it with his teeth and rolled it down his cock. “Ready?” He questioned, hovering over you.

“I want to sit on you” you stated, you pulled yourself up and signaled for him to sit against the headboard. You wrapped both legs around him and hovered over his cock, he gripped the base and you both watched as you slid down him. “O-oh!” You cried, his size stretching your tight hole. You’d only ever been with a few other men and none of them the size of Drew.

“Take it slow baby girl” he whispered, running his hands up and down your naked back. His eyes trained on your face, he watched as your eyes screwed shut and you began to move up and down him slowly. “That’s it, just like that” he mumbles against your neck, kissing your skin and palming your breasts.

“I feel so full” you stated, his lips found yours. His tongue explored your mouth, drinking in your soft moans and whines. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, moving you up and down faster and faster until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck y/n, I need you to lay down”.

He didn’t give you time to comprehend and move the two of you, he brought one of your legs above his shoulder and thrusted into you. This new angle hitting exactly where you needed him to, your walls pulsating around his cock. Sucking him deeper and deeper.

Drew was cursing and grunting above you, watching as his cock entered your pussy. The veins on his arms protruding with each thrust, your fingernails dug half crescent moons into his shoulder blades. “Drew!” You cried out, his cock hitting your g spot. “I’m so close!” You warned him, you pulled him against your chest. Wrapping both your legs around his waist.

His nails dug into your hips as he moved faster and faster. “Let go baby, come around my cock! I want to feel your walls suck me in” he groaned, his own orgasm catching up to him.

Once again your orgasm hit you, this time you're not sure if you’ll recover. Your body shook around Drew, choking back your words of encouragement.

His body began to shake against you, his cock twitching inside of you. He squeezed you tighter, cursing into your shoulder blade. The muscles in his back flexing against your hands.

He pulled himself out of you and collapsed, his eyes closed shut. Both your chests rising and falling heavily, your bodies sweaty and warm. You turned your head to look at him, you thought he may have passed out because he didn’t move for a solid 2 minutes.

“That was fucking amazing” he finally spoke, giving you his biggest smile. You nodded your head rolling into his side. “Those were the 2 best orgasms of my life” you admitted, pressing your lips to his.

“There will be plenty more where that came from”.

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae

[leviathanspain]

hiiiii, can i request a smutty benedict bridgerton x reader where reader is obsessed with like his hands and thinks he doesn’t notice? thx🫶🏼🫶🏼

i know you

benedict bridgerton x reader

synopsis: benedict can’t help but indulge his wife in her pleasures..

warm hands wrapped themselves around your waist. immediately, your hands found his, feeling his skin in yours, the bulge of his veins underneath, you could just shiver at the thought.

“oh..” you looked to the ground coyly, “i know you..” you pulled his hands off, turning around to face your husband.

he chuckled as you hugged him. your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. your face pushed against his chest, but you felt him kiss your temple, “do you?” he teased, eyebrow cocked as he smiled widely.

you pulled away, smirking as you playfully shoved him away. “seems like my husband isn’t here yet. i shall excuse myself-“ you threw a glare at benedict and began to stomp back into aubrey hall.

benedict immediately tailed after you, “no,” he had already caught up to you, “he’s right here.” his hand found it’s way to the small of your back, and you hitched a breath.

you stopped walking, eyes inspected the empty hallway before you threw yourself at benedict.

his hands, oh his hands.

your core pulsed at the thought of his hands caressing your thighs. feeling his nimble fingers, massaging your skin gently, almost subconsciously.

benedict caught you in a million kisses. his hands wrapped themselves all over your body, he was practically pulling you on top of him.

“wait-“ it dawned on you, just how provocative this entire thing was.

“benedict.” sternly, you pulled his attention away from nipping at your neck. he raised his eyebrows until it too, dawned on him.

“oh fuck.” he cursed, but his grip on your waist remained tight. you didn’t say anything as he began to walk, pulling you in with him.

it was your first day back at aubrey hall since the wedding, and hardly were you familiar with it.

“ben-“ you clutched at his hands as he continued to string you throughout the hall, practically racing to the destination.

as it was, he had stopped in front of a white door. it was old, paint was chipped around the knob. benedict smiled as he pushed the door open.

he pulled you in, kissing you just once before he let you go to shove the door closed. you heard a lock turn as you looked around the room. in some ways, it was juvenile. old blue paint made the room look it, but the furniture was clearly of better taste.

“is this-“

“my old bedroom?” he smiled, “yes it is.” eyes scanned the room and you could tell he loved it.

“well,” a smile pulled at your lips again, softening as you grabbed his arms, pulling them onto your hips, “i think it’s absolutely,” you leaned in for a kiss, which benedict planted softly, lips kneading into yours, “lovely.”

just as you spoke, his hands had found the plush of your ass. he squeezed it tightly, and you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling.

you gripped his arms tightly, taking a moment to inhale, closing your eyes. “tell me how you want it..” he whispered, breath caressing your ear.

you pushed into him, feeling his cock just under his belt, “i want you to fuck me…” you whispered back, practically moaning.

“with?” his voice drew out his word, and you knew he was doing it to tease you more. especially as his hands gripped harder at your ass.

“everything. fuck me with everything.” you stole a kiss just as he ripped the back of your dress off. with his strength, the dress was practically ribbons after. but it was quickly forgotten as he pulled you out of it, lifting you up onto his hips as he stepped over to the bed.

he tossed you into it, landing perfectly on your back into a sea of pillows. you laughed as he clamored onto the bed. he kissed you, desperately as he reached down into your cunt with his hands.

you shivered as he caressed you. his fingers barely brushed your bud, teasing you more and more.

“god- benedict..” you groaned, unable to hold out any longer.

his nose pushed into the side of your cheek, words distracting you just as his fingers plunged into your spongey walls. slick coated his fingers, his thumb free to please your swollen bud.

“i know you.” he kissed your cheek, “i know you.”

you squirmed, but benedict used his free hand to wrap around your waist, holding you tightly as he finger fucked you.

you closed your eyes, head thrown back into his shoulder as his pace quickened. you heaved, eyes squeezed tight as he fucked you harder and harder.

“fuck!” you cursed, body shaking as he brought you to the edge. you pulled away from him, squirming as you came all over his hand. you could hear the squelching of your cunt as he continued to fuck you through it. your hands pushed away at his, still working at you.

“benedict, oh my-“ you could barely mutter the words. your ears and your body felt like a bee hive, a constant buzz.

benedict pulled his fingers out, nudging you to look at yourself on him. “come on, pretty girl. let me see those eyes.” he whispered sweetly.

you cracked your eyes open, looking at his hand, veins protruding after all that work. you could just feel the desire burn more, even more as he pulled you in for a kiss, his teeth gently nipping at your lip. you laughed, hand pulling weakly at his collar.

[maxillness]

Treat You Better || LN4 OP81 x Reader

Warnings: Angst (ish), 18+, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, sub!oscar, praise kink,

Wordcount: 1.4k

Part 3 of Nattely and I Don’t Forgive You

He won’t lie to her, he just know he’s not right for her

Oscar could see it on her face when she says he’s the one that she wants

She’s spending all her time in the wrong situation

“I broke up with him” He heard her says from the other end of the call

I know I can treat you better

“I’m sorry” He sighed “I’m in Monaco, want me to come over?”

“If it’s no problem”

He was there in a matter of minutes, speeding over to her, not wanting her to be alone

“I’m an idiot” She cried, spilling her tears out as she was hurtled up into Oscar’s arms

“You’re not an idiot” He said, hand soothing her hair

“Why didn’t I notice earlier?” Her head was starting to hurt from the crying

Her crying had settled for a while, but still in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against his

“Any girl like you deserves a gentleman” He said, feeling her body get heavy against his

Feeling her body heavy against his, and hearing her small snores, she lifted her up and put her gently under the sheets on her bed

“Goodnight” He whispered, softly pulling her hair away from her face

It was a few weeks later when he got a call from her “What’s up?” He picked up the phone almost immediately

“He was here. Said he missed me. Wanted to be friends again. Admitted to not wanting me back”

Just let me treat you better

“Here’s what I’m gonna do. Next time I’m in Monaco, I’m gonna come by with ice cream, okay?” He offered, hearing her light sniffle

“That would be great”

He did just that. He came by her apartment with ice cream. They sat on the couch, stuffing their faces with ice cream, talking about everything and nothing

At some point, the alcohol had joined them. They had scooted closer, knees brushing each other, sending shivers down his spine

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, seeing his zoned out state, but still looking at her

“Nothing” He answered, obviously lying as he looked down into the almost empty ice cream

“Tell me” Her finger hooked under his chin, making him look up at her

He sighed, but spoke up anyways “I’ll stop time for you. The second you say you’d like me too” Her hand dropped from his face

“I just wanna give you the loving that you’re missing. Baby, just to wake up with you would be everything in need, and this could be so different” He looked with fear into her eyes, waiting for a response

“Tell me what you want to do” She said, leaning closer to him

He didn’t answer, to caught up with colour in her eyes, and the feeling of the bubble in his throat

“Oscar… Don’t be shy, tell me what you want” She smiled, getting fully in his lap, legs on either sides of his thighs

Her arms were around his neck, his hands on her waist, eyes so innocent they looked like puppy eyes

“You” She could see the blush starting to creep up on his cheeks and down his neck “I know I can treat you better than he ever did”

“Any man with a good soul can” She leaned in, titling her head slightly to the side, closing her eyes as their lips made contact

“Do I have a good soul?” He asked softly as she pulled back

“Very much so” She nodded, pulling him in for a deeper kiss “The best” She repositioned herself, allowing her to get closer to him

Her tongue glided across his bottom lip, access given immediately, without hesitation

Her tongue felt spongy against his. The kiss had gotten more sloppy and wet like this, saliva pooling in the corners of their mouths

Her lips moved over his jaw and down to his neck. The way her lips moved on his skin drew out light moans from him

“We should move to the bedroom” She said between kisses, starting to stand up “Come on” She took his hands pulling him up

Their lips attached again as she guided them into the bedroom. She closed the door with her foot before pushing him down softly, making him sit on the foot of the bed

“You’re so beautiful” She whispered as she got in his lap again, hands under his shirt, pulling it over his head

She noticed the blush that deepened at her words “So fucking beautiful” She chuckled slightly at the whimper he let out

She pushed him softly down so he was laying on his back, her lips attaching to his neck, slowly moving over his throat and down his chest

She had gotten off the bed, styled between his legs on her knees, lips trailing down just above the waistband of his jeans

She disconnected her lips from his skin, looking up at him as her hands fiddled with his belt

She unbuckled it, moving to his button and zipper. He bucked his hips, giving her access to pull down both his pants and boxers at the same time

Beautiful brown doe eyes were looking down at her as she spit in her palm, attaching her hand around his hard cock, drawing out a whimper from him

Her other hand held his hip as she kissed the insides of his thighs, hand on his cock starting to move, throwing his head back, closing his eyes

The soft moans and whimpers he let out were like music to her ears

She slid her thumb over his slit, a loud moan leaving his lips, her name rolling off his tongue, in a breathless whimper

“Please, I need your mouth, please” He looked down at her, lost in her eyes

She granted him his wish, her mouth attaching around him, starting to slowly move, louder moans starting to fill the apartment

“Please- fuck… Just like that- Ah” His hips were starting to shutter as his thighs shook and he started twitching inside her mouth

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Please, I’m so close” He had a hard time keeping still as she moved

Her tongue traced the vein up his cock, sending him over the edge with her name rolling off on his tongue with a loud moan, shooting his cum down her throat

She swallowed and stood up before quickly removing all of her clothes, Oscar laying tiredly on the bed, chest still heaving from his quick breathing

She got in his lap, hovering of his body, making him open his eyes and look up at her

“You okay, Osc?” She asked, kissing his lips softly

“Mhm… I can give you one more” He said, hands softly tracing her sides, landing on her hips

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” She said, caressing his cheek with her thumb

“N-no, I want to, want to make you feel way better than he ever did” He said, encouraging her to take him back into her hand

She drew the tip of his cock through her folds, making him moan as he was still sensitive from his orgasm

She slowly slid down on him, both moaning at the sensation of him inside her

She started moving, nails digging into his chest as Oscar’s nails dug into her hips, not able to keep their moans down

“Fuck- Never imagined you to sound so good” She praised, making him whimper, bucking his hips up into her

She leaned down, putting her arms in wait her side of his head, lips attaching to his neck

This new position made her clit rub against his pelvic bone, giving her more pleasure, moaning loudly beside his ear

“Please- fuck- ‘m so close” He said, starting to twitch inside her as his hands went to rest at her ass, squeezing her slightly

He let out a high-pitched moan when she clenched around him “Please- I need- I need to come, please”

“Come for me” She placed open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin on his neck, giving him a few more rolls of her hips as he came deep inside her

The feeling of his cum filling her up sent her over the edge, rapidly clenching around him as she came

She laid down beside him on her side, propping her head up on her hand, the other softly pulling the hair out of his face

His brown eyes looked at her with such adoration she never got from Lando, or anybody for that matter

[angelixxsweetheart]

hi,

can u write jinx with a gf shorter than her too perchance? 😇 maybe she’s more fem than jinx as well so it’s giving masc/fem duo (even tho jinx is sorta fem in her own way but still)

thank uu !

yesssss sure!!

requests are open btw!!! (open and empty...)

Jinx x short!reader!

Basically Jinx with a girlfriend smaller/more fem than her

men and minors dni (wlw friendly space)

pretty much just fluff with a hint of overthinking and angst at the end

- she thinks youre absolutely adorable; as a rather small girl herself, Jinx would really enjoy having someone she could finally tower over

- if youre someone who dresses a lot more feminine than she does, like wears dresses and skirts often, Jinx would absolutely hype you up, thinking you look adorable in them

- would tease you by saying you act like a full on princess because she is more masc (in my opinion atleast) so she would definitely use the pet name "princess" on you sometimes aside from others like "toots" or "angel"

- loves it when her clothes are a little bigger than yours so youd end up stealing and wearing them. If she noticed you waking up before her and youre already in the kitchen making breakfast, she would come up from behind you and wrap her arms around your waist ("you look good like this, princess") while just watching you do your stuff

- the two of you would sort of be a masc/fem duo with how different you handle yourself compared to her

- even if she sometimes makes fun of you playfully or teases you for always being so feminine, she would absolutely adore you and the way you dress, despite it being so different compared to herself

- PROTECTIVE AND I MEAN IT she knows how dangerous the streets of Zaun can be so whenever you go somewhere, expect her to follow you like a guard dog, making sure no one looks at you the wrong way and every creepy person stays away from you or they would have to meet their end, she would NOT hesitate to end someone for being an ass or a creep towards you (ANYTHING FOR HER ANGEL)

- loves holding you close somehow by either having an arm wrapped around your waist or fingers interlocked, anyway she can touch you and know youre real is heaven for her especially if she had an episode prior that day or if the voices grew to loud

- loves showing you off wether it would be the two of you just going somewhere or you introducing yourself to someone she knows ("Yeah, well, this is my girlfriend" "Have you met my girlfriend yet?" "this is my angel")

- I feel like she would sometimes struggle with accepting that youre actually her girlfriend. Not as in youre not enough for her but she easily doubts herself. She's deeply afraid of being abandoned so if a literaly angel like you suddenly appears in her life, she often wonders how she deserves you because shes such a jinx and maybe even tend to self sabotage because she cant explain herself why you would choose her out of all people

- your presence is able to calm the voices in her head, Jinx enjoys being close to you because something about you can make everything quiet and youre her safeplace

- be prepared to always find little sketches or graffitis on your stuff, like something she drew on your makeup box as a little reminder she loves you

- it could either take a lot of convincing or she would easily let you do it for your sake, but doing her makeup!!! imagine sitting on her lap while holding her jaw with your free hand and your dominant hand is busy applying eyeshadow on her eyelids

- She always stares at you while youre trying your hardest to concentrate with those intense pink eyes staring into yours, "Jinx...you gotta close your eyes im not done..." "But you look so cute!", she would pout in response, one of her hands coming up to squeeze your cheek as you playfully slap it away with a giggle and continue your work

- applying lipstick on her could be a mess though because once youve done, her lips would somehow find their way to your face and youd end up being covered in lipstick stains just so Jinx can keep you on your lap a little longer and watch you with a smirk on her own lips

- loved to rest her head on your lap even if your smaller than her while feeling your fingers run through her long hair or massage her scalp

- it would take LOTS of begging and trust, but at some point Jinx would allow you to do her hair. Especially after Silcos death as it felt like it was one of the last things connecting them, she wouldnt let anyone do her hair, causing her braids to grow a little messier because she cant braid all of them by herself. But after some time and heartfelt conversations, she would allow you to do her hair and loves nothing more than feeling your fingers threadening through the electric blue strands - its her favorite way of unwinding after a long day

[cardierreh15]

Double Stuffed

Oreo’s aren’t the only thing that are double stuffed around these parts 😌 enjoy

***I do not give anyone permission or my consent to repost, translate or copy my work!

Warnings 18+: 3️⃣ sum, Cursing , Voyuerism , Oral Sex (Male Receiving) , Nipple Stimulation , Squirting , Facial , Penetration (Vaginal 🤟🏾) PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

Pairings: Gus March-Phillips(Henry Cavill) x Black!Plus Size Female(Regina) x Anders Lassen(Alan Ritchson)

Special Guest: Betty 💕 @augustsprincess

Description: Regina has the time of her life!

Word Count: 3.8K

‘Oh girl c’mon it’ll be fun!’ Betty exclaimed as she tugged Regina’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the pub that was booming with country music, soldiers in uniform lingering about.

‘Betty!’ She snatched her hand away, watching Betty stumble before once again gaining her footing. ‘Girl, my daddy is in the service! What if someone saw me in there!’ She whined out.

Her small friend pursed her lips together hard, dusting off her polka dotted dress in frustration and running her slender fingers through her freshly done candy curls.

‘Your daddy-‘ she said the words with bitterness. ‘Ain’t here.’ She let out a loud sigh and placed her hands on her hips, ‘Look. I know you’ve been under the weather since the death of your fiancé and—‘

‘Oooh—‘ Regina rolled her eyes, interrupting Betty. She let out a humorless scoff, ‘is this what this shit is about?! Getting me out of the house?!’

Betty gave her a look in bewilderment, glancing to the side with her hands remaining on her hips, ‘Uh yeah? Listen, let’s just treat it as a girl’s night?’ She walked up to her friend and draped her arm across her shoulders. ‘Look at these tall, delicious specimens huh?’ She waved her free hand slowly in the air. ‘Sure you could take one home!’

She was challenging her.

Regina glanced over at her friend and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, ‘Oh Betty, I don’t know. This is a bar full of… crazy, nut jobs … pent up from rage, exhaustion, … lust.’

‘Mmmhmm?’ Betty egged on with an encouraging nod.

‘M-maybe we should—‘

‘That’s my girl!’ Betty exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air before clasping them together happily. ‘See I knew you couldn’t stand a chance! Come on!’ Betty snatched up her friend’s hand and led the way towards the stairs. ‘I promise if you feel unsafe or it just gets too wild in here— we’ll leave!’

‘Mmph, say you swear.’ Regina retorted, stopping the both of them in their tracks. Her pretty brown eyes glistened beneath the pretty bulbs that hung above them.

‘Cross my heart,’ Betty turned halfway and drew an ‘X’ over her chest, ‘Hope to die. Now. Can we go inside?’ She jerked her head towards the door.

Her stoic glare instantly shifted into something lighter, her grin spread across her face, ‘OK fine let’s go.’

The two women walked inside of the bar, hand in hand. The place was only lit by some old lamps that were screwed into the walls, and one old rusted chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Honestly, if it weren’t for that old thing, you’d have to squint to look at folks.

‘Wow! Look at this place!’ Betty beamed as she placed her hand over cleavage. ‘It’s amazing.’

Regina’s brows tugged into one, ‘Are we looking at the same place?’

‘Oh Regina, don't be so judgemental! Look at all this … man meat.’ Betty giggled and glanced over at the bar. ‘Let’s go get a drink in ya? Help you… mellow out a lil bit.’

Without an ounce of warning, Betty led the way towards the bar.

It wasn’t until their stroll when whistles began to fill the air. Mumbling and cat calling could be heard throughout the loud hymns of the music.

Both of the women were beautiful in their own right. Betty was blonde, with perfect porcelain skin. She had a slender figure but the waist of her dress seemed to emphasize the curves in her hips and the one on her rump.

Regina had skin that was brown as terracotta. Glowing like bronze when in the path of the sun. Her hair was dark as the shadows of night, patterned with tight curls and coils that cascaded down her back. She wore a black velvet bodycon dress that also enhanced her curves, dimples and hip dips.

When they made it to the bar, the barkeeper seemed to be startled for a second.

‘Ladies—‘ he stammered and quickly placed the rag and glass down upon the bar top. ‘Aren’t you two beauties a sight for sore eyes,’ he spoke in a heavy accent. And by the knot in his bottom lip, his tobacco was the reason for his twang. ‘What can I do you for?’

Betty gave him a charming grin, batting her thick dark lashes. She was bashful and convivial by nature. ‘Hi there. Can you pour me and my friend somethinggg… pungent? Thank you.’

Regina snapped her head over at her friend, glaring at her with eyes of astonishment. ‘Betty!’ She hissed, quickly snatching her wrist up in her palm.

‘Whaaat?’

‘Pungent? Really? I would like to know how we get home, please.’ She muttered.

‘Oh please stop being dramatic! What’s the point of coming out tonight if we can’t make the best of it? Relax.’

Finally tearing her eyes away, Regina looked to her right to scope out the room. Men of all colors and sizes were either looking in their direction, laughing and gambling or drinking til their hearts were content.

This really didn’t feel like a safe place at all.

When the barkeeper brought their drinks back, Betty pulled up her small clutch, ‘How much do I owe you sir?’

‘Nothing at all ma’am.’ He said, raising his hand. ‘The gentleman over there is willing to pay for your tab.’

Both of the women looked back at the mysterious male, whose bright blue eyes spoke before his lips did. He sported a thick mustache over his lips with his dark hair combed back to perfection. He stood to his feet, adjusting his brown slacks around his hips. His coat was decorated in pretty devices and ribbons. Some big hot shot.

He looked like he wanted to snap her in half. She was small enough to make that accomplishment.

‘Oooh. Regina?’

‘Yeah?’ Regina said as she stared at the handsome hunk of man that approached them.

‘I think you might have to busy yourself for the rest of the night.’ Betty quickly scooted off the wooden bar stool and knocked back her freshly poured whiskey. And in no time, the gentleman was towering over little Betty like a skyscraper.

Regina gasped, ‘Betty—‘

‘Miss?’ The barkeeper interrupted.

She snapped her head over at him at his call.

‘It appears you have secret admirers of your own.’

Her thick brows pulled into one as she sat up straight. ‘M-me?’ Plural? ‘Admirers? Who?’

The barkeeper glanced over to the corner of the room.

Her anxious eyes followed his gaze to the far right corner of the room. There sat two freakishly large men beneath a flickering yellow light.

One donned a large beard with a curled and dramatic mustache. His hair was curly and pushed back except one strand that dangled against his forehead.

The other had a clean shaven face with dirty blonde combed back hair. A set of round lenses sat on the bridge of his nose.

If their gaze had been daggers, she’d be dead.

‘Both. Of them?’ Regina hushed out.

‘You see em both lookin’ don’t cha?’

She swallowed her spit so hard she thought there was a lump there. She looked over at Betty who was getting more than acquainted with her new beau. Giggling and smiling like brand new love birds. Their whispers and flirts couldn’t be heard over the music.

‘Betty? There’s two! What do I do!?’ She was quite the neophyte when it came to things like this. Often men, one at a time, had courted her but two?! What would she do with two of them?!

Well, she would soon find out that she could do a lot more with two than she could do with just one.

Her friend looked over at her and gave her a wink.

Before she could coax an answer out of Betty, she felt the heavy warmth of their presence standing behind her.

Betty let out an excited giggle as her attractive stranger nibbled on her exposed neck.

Regina’s back stiffened with her legs crossed, unknowingly arching and causing her rump to stick out beneath her.

‘Excuse our intrusion Miss… but it would be great pleasure if you accepted our invitation to join us in our room this evening.’

The English accent was thick yet, blended with pure charm. His voice settled and nestled in the crevices in her brain.

She swallowed hard once again and lifted her shaky hand to scoop up the whiskey glass. Pressing it to her lips, she thought for a second.

If she took a sip of this drink, there was no going back! Ain’t no telling what these two strangers planned on doing to her once they were behind closed doors.

But perhaps, maybe this is what she needed. Her late fiancé had been gone for 1 year now and she couldn’t hang on to that forever. During her stage of grieving, she’d worked tirelessly to keep herself busy.

She deserved it!

Even if it meant getting torn to shreds by these two … delicious specimens.

Regina smirked at the barkeeper and knocked back the whiskey that burned her stomach profusely. She blinked hard before swallowing down the pain and courageously spun in her stool.

When her eyes had finally met theirs, she felt a pang in her chest. By the Heavens! Bless their mothers for carrying such prodigious of boys.

‘Oh!’ She placed her hand bosom. ‘My— you are big men.’

A smile curled up on their lips before they looked at one another knowingly.

‘Do you accept our offer, Miss?’ The blonde one spoke up. His accent was much different from the original one she’d heard.

She looked over at Betty who was now sporting her beau’s service cap and locking lips with him.

Well, Betty was having the time of her life. What kind of person would she be if she took their free drink and left?

What would your daddy say?

Fuck your daddy.

You deserve this, Regina. Go have fun.

Uncrossing her legs, she carefully slid off of the chair and adjusted her dress at the thighs. ‘I accept.’

They grinned in sync, showing off their darling smiles. It caused a knot to tie in her gut. By God they had to be angels sent from up above.

They turned as they both lended her their arms for her to grasp. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and her neck as she reached out to grab their biceps.

‘Oh my—‘ she giggled as she squeezed them both. ‘Such strong men I got! I’m a lucky girl.’ Regina purred as she looked up at the bearded one. ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall.’

***

They stared down at her with a desire only men in this time could only have.

Regina gripped the silk sheets in her sweaty fists as their studious glares began to roam her curvaceous body. Starting from her pink painted toes, her thick thighs, her hips and tummy, her breasts and finally… her pretty round, chunky face.

The woman felt like she was under a damn microscopic lense with how they were staring at her. Her thigh bounced vigorously. She couldn’t tell if they wanted to eat her or dissect her. Regardless, it scared the shit out of her.

‘Lassen?’ The fellow with the beard said softly.

‘Yes sir?’

Sir? Did these two work with one another?

‘You may start.’

‘Wait— wait…’ Regina called out first as the bearded one walked towards the floral embroidered chair and shrugged off his coat. ‘Could I know your names? I mean— I would like to know who I’m letting into my lady bits.’ She said humorously.

The one known as Lassen looked back at his comrade. And they gave one another a firm nod in approval.

‘My name is Anders Lassen and this is Gus March-Phillips. What is your name lovely?’

Anders and Gus. Should be able to remember that.

‘My name is Regina Carson…’

‘Mmm. Very pretty name, for a very pretty woman.’ Gus said as he began to unbutton his dress shirt.

An enamored grin curled up on her lips as her tongue gently grazed her pretty smile.

Her eyes then darted up to meet Anders as he pushed off his suspenders and pulled his tucked shirt from inside of his trousers. He then pulled the fitted shirt over his head and dropped it to the side of the bed.

Good lord, he had the body of a God. Muscles ripped and tight. Her mouth went to salivating almost immediately.

Grabbing her hand, he lifted her up to her feet and brought her body flush against his. He lifted her chin, bringing her lips up to meet his in a kiss.

Regina’s eyes fluttered closed as she purred at the welcoming warmth of his lips. At first, it was just him testing the waters but she quickly fell into place; opening her mouth allowing him to invade as he pleased.

Anders snaked his hands behind her, finding the fine zipper and dragging it down.

Suddenly, she felt the warmth of another set of lips on the nape of her neck. Regina tore her lips away from Anders as he began to help her out the sleeves of her dress. Her head lulled back against Gus’ shoulder before he brought her mouth into a kiss next. And just like Anders, she opened her mouth nice and wide for him.

His beard and mustache tickled her lips and cheeks.

Before she knew it, the three of them were fully nude.

The both of them stroked at their members; aching to feel how warm she was from the inside out. But first…

Gus carefully forced Regina to her knees before them. Her eyes grew in slight shock at the size of their members. Both uncut, veiny and hard enough to slice through bricks.

‘You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, sweetheart.’ Gus said as his fingertips caressed her cheek softly before pushing her thick hair behind her ear.

‘No. I wanna.’ She shuddered out before sitting up on her knees, wrapping her hand around Anders cock and her lips around Gus.

Both of the men let out a pleasant groan in unison as she massaged one and sucked the other.

Careful not to show one too much attention though, she alternated and began to suck Anders off while stroking Gus. Anders’ knees buckled as she began to throat him just the same as she did with Gus.

‘Ugh, fuck.’

‘Just like that.’

The boys groaned at her teasing. She did everything she could to please them. Tightening up her lips, gagging against their cocks when they touched the back of her throat, squeezing and massaging their balls delicately. At her rate, they both would be making a mess of her in no time!

‘Stop.’ Gus grunted as he carefully pulled his hips away from her warm mouth. He shuddered before letting out a sigh. ‘Anymore of that and I’ll explode. Up.’

At his command, she placed her hand in his as she stood to her feet. ‘Anders… you first. I’d like to watch.’

‘As you wish.’ Anders said with a devious smirk.

Watch?! While she’s never done something this spontaneous and … sinful, she had no idea people were into watching other people fuck. But if it were to please her boys… she’d do whatever they asked.

She watched him walk over to the same chair and plop down; his hard dick swaying and slapping against his thigh.

‘Bend over, darling. Feel free to tap me if it’s too much. I will stop.’

Regina giggled as she bent over the bed. ‘Too much? Please.’

Spreading her thick thighs apart, Anders took a hold of his member and pressed it at her sticky entrance.

With a quick thrust, he stretched her against her will.

The poor woman let out a wail that was mixed with pleasure and undeniable pain.

Perhaps she spoke too soon.

Tears brimmed her eyes as she held her breath for a second, gripping the cool satin sheets.

Anders let out a blissful moan, holding himself deep inside of her as his large hands caressed up and down her curves and folds.

Gus had one leg draped over one arm over the couch as he stroked at his member, watching with excitement in his eyes and an intrigued smirk on his lips.

‘Fuck!’ Regina cried out before she felt him slam himself into her once more, his fingertips digging into her waist. ‘Dear God! Ah!’

A few thrusts and Regina was able to take this intruder comfortably now. With her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she thought she was seeing stars already.

Anders began to pound into her hard and fast before reaching down to grip her hair in his fist. ‘Yeah. Call out to him baby. He can’t save you now.’

She looked up at him through her thick lashes. ‘Ooooh— my god! Yes! Anders please!’ She pleaded as his body collided into hers relentlessly.

‘Oooh. Fuck, you feel so good baby. Take me. Take me baby.’ Anders hissed through his teeth.

‘Aaaaah yes!’

‘Fuuuck, nicely done Anders. Show her what you’re made of.’ Gus grumbled as he reached his free hand beneath himself and squeezed his tender balls.

Hissing through her gritted teeth, she looked over to watch Gus get himself off. His chest and biceps tense as he stroked his girthy, thick cock. Such a beautiful sight.

Anders pulled Regina’s hair, making her stand up straight against him. He wrapped his large veiny hand around her throat, forcing her into a disgusting kiss. His thrusts became a little slower and forgiven as one hand cupped her breast and his other arm wrapped around her waist, gripping her belly for stability.

When he broke the kiss, he began to ram his hips into her once again as her breathing hitched and strained. ‘Hoooo— yes, yes, yes!’

Finally, Gus stood from his seat and approached them. He landed a slap on Ander’s ass and jerked his head to the side. ‘Don’t be stingy, Lassen. She’s ours.’

Ours.

Anders groaned in dismay but obeyed. Landing one more kiss on Regina’s mouth, he retracted his hips and took place on the bed; propped up on his knees.

Gus looked down at the woman with gentle eyes, ‘tap out of it becomes too much sweetie.’ He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips before sucking her bottom lip between his teeth gently.

Drunken with lust and pleasure, Regina dizzily plopped down on her back and spread her thighs for him.

‘Aren’t you a pretty sight? Might have to give you a son… or marry you? What do you think, Lassen?’

Anders laughed darkly as he scooted down so his still erected cock was pressed against her cheek. ‘Pretty indeed. Now open up doll… I wanna see you put those pretty lips to work while you’re getting fucked.’

His words caused her to writhe in excitement. Her core was aching to be filled once more. She lifted her head and parted her lips as she guided his cock back into the home of her mouth.

Gus sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he pushed her thighs back and pushed his tip inside of her and began to slowly roll his hips into her.

Closing her eyes, Regina hummed against Anders cock causing a vibration to rumble at the back of her throat. ‘Ohh—‘ his head fell back as his hand held onto the back of her head. ‘Fuck! You’re so tight.’ He swallowed as he reached down toying and pinching at her hardened nipples.

Gus began to pick up the pace, his finger tips digging in her plushy flesh tightly. Forcing her thighs back as he delved his hips into her once more. He then reached down and began to rub at her erected nub softly.

‘Fuck! You look so pretty with Anders dick in your mouth.’

Anders groaned as he thrusted his hips forward into Regina’s mouth; anglelessly hitting all the spots in her warm, wet mouth.

‘Mmmm—‘ Regina cooed as she pulled her lips away to curse, using her hand to jerk off Anders. ‘Fuck, Gus! Please!’ She begged, her thighs twitched at the creeping sensation.

Gus thrusted fast as he rubbed her clit in circles a little faster.

‘Gus! Oh, my god!’ Her thighs began to tremble as she felt her womb tighten up. Her body stiffened and her chest tightened. Gus stilled his hips and focused on her. ‘I’m gonna—‘ Her back arched and her toes curled as the heat in her body popped off like fireworks on new years.

She released a scream that could be heard throughout the hotel. And with that scream, came a sudden burst from her loins. She exploded like a damaged fire hydrant.

Gus looked up at Anders in surprise and Anders returned the glare.

‘Whoa—‘ both of the men laughed in darkly.

‘Have you ever done that?’ Anders asked with a grin spread across his lips.

‘Quite a few times.. you?’

‘Once.’

‘Well, we shall see if we can get a few more out of her, yes?’

‘I’m with you sir.’

While both of the men experienced this kind of mess, she never experienced a pleasure so great. Her head throbbed as she tried to process what the fuck just happened. Her cheeks remained hot to the touch, her trembling lips sore from all of their sweet, heavy kisses.

‘Brace yourself sweetheart. We aren’t done with you yet.’

Anders and Gus laughed beguilingly as their large hands caressed over her sticky, brown flesh.

A glint of thrill shown in her sex-crazed eyes. She was hyped. ‘O-OK!’

With the stamina of these two men, Regina was sure she lost enough weight to fit into her graduation gown from high school.

She was fucked into exhaustion and dehydration, so she was relieved when they both announced their arrivals.

‘On the floor baby. Yeah— fuck look at you.’ Ander groaned as the both of them helped her to her knees.

‘Open wide baby.’ Gus added as they both began to stroke their members until they reached their climax.

Regina’s eyes gleamed, her hands massaging their muscular thighs that tensed and squeezed beneath her touch. She opened her mouth, tongue out to capture those sacred drops.

‘UGH! Ba—‘

‘Fuuuuuck… yes!’

The two men groaned aloud as they emptied themselves upon her pretty face and mouth. Wrapping her hands around the both of them, she squeezed and coaxed the rest of their nut out of them.

Gus’ knees buckled as his eyes rolled back halfway. Then, she gave them both a kiss on the tip of their now flaccid dicks.

Anders let out an exhausted sigh. ‘Oh. What do we do with you now.’

‘Well…’ Gus added, ‘I have quite a few ideas.’ He trailed off.

Wiping her face and flicking off the sticky semen, she looked up at them in horror.

Now what?

2 years later…

Regina clamped her eyes shut tight as she rested her lower hand on her lower back. ‘Ooh… my days.’ She rubbed at the roundness of her belly with her free hand, as the other carried out a metal tray of fresh lemonade and a couple glasses of ice.

She walked out to the backyard to see Anders flipping burgers at the grill with his “Kiss the Cook” apron on while Gus tossed a football to Betty’s husband, August. Betty was bouncing her sweet baby boy in her arms, showering him with kisses and love.

This was the life.

A smile curled on her lips when Anders sweet, gentle eyes landed on her. ‘Let me grab this for you.’ He rushed over and carefully took hold of the tray and placed it on the picnic table. ‘How’s my girls huh?’

‘The same as yesterday, Lassen.’ She sighed heavily and rubbed her pregnant belly, ‘Tired. Aching.’

‘Aw. I know sweetheart. Just a few more weeks.’ He said before placing a kiss on her head. ‘Sit.’

Gus sat the football down in the lush green grass and jogged towards the deck. ‘There’s my girl. Hey, mama.’ He mused as he placed a kiss on her lips. ‘How are you feeling?’

Regina pressed her lips together and glanced over at her other husband.

Anders stared at Gus for a little bit and chuckled, ‘To save you from her wringing your neck … she’s feeling the same as she did yesterday.’

Gus sighed softly, ‘Oh my sweet. Forgive me for asking. Is there anything you need?’

She shook her head as her head fell back against the lawn chair. ‘No my darlings… I’m fine.’

Regina closed her eyes for a long second before feeling a sudden wetness in her bottom.

Her eyes flashed open.

‘Boys.. I don’t think I’m peeing myself again…’

Tags: @peternoonewantsthat @wa-ni @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @the-kanamori @viking-raider

[flickering-chandelier]

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Cassian is fed up with Rhysand x Reader beating around the bush and helps them get together.

Word Count: 2.5k

You would certainly not consider yourself to be a jealous person. In fact, you rather prided yourself in your ability to keep a level head and look at a situation from every possible angle, giving people the benefit of the doubt before you would jump to conclusions.

And really, there was no reason for you to be jealous. The High Lord had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go, and he admittedly had become your closest friend. You knew he cared for you in his own way. But, that was just it. You were friends… nothing more. Although he flirted with you shamelessly, you knew he didn’t mean any of it. You were endlessly polite, unable to bring yourself to even attempt to flirt back. 

Yet, as you watched him mingle at Mor’s favorite club in Velaris, watched how heads turned as Rhys walked through the crowd, saw the twinkle in the eyes of every woman he talked to…let’s just say that you were keenly aware that every eye was on him and that he hadn’t so much as glanced in your direction for the past thirty minutes.

“He’s not interested in them, you know,” Cassian said as he settled in beside you, passing one of the drinks in his hand to you.

“Hmm?” you said, finally tearing your gaze from Rhysand, stirring your drink absently with your straw.

Cassian snorted. “Rhys. He’s not interested in any of those people flocking him.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference, gingerly taking a sip of your drink. “Okay?” 

“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve been watching him all night, like you always do when we’re out and about,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I do not-”

“You do,” Cassian cut in. “Just admit to yourself that you’re in love with him, will you? I think you’ll be way less miserable. Even better, admit it to him.”

You gaped at him, your mouth forming a small o as you tried desperately to form a response that wasn’t humiliating. “I am not in love with him. He’s -- he’s Rhys, he’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend who saved your life,” Cassian offered, smiling cockily.

You drew your mouth into a thin line. “Well, yes. Of course he means a lot to me. But anyway, I’m not miserable.”

You turned away from him, frustrated, and faced forward, where you practically had a front row seat to watch a beautiful High Fae whispering in Rhys’s ear, his smile sensual, his hand at her waist.

Cassian looked at you thoughtfully for a moment. “You look pretty miserable. You look like you hate that woman he’s with. And I’ve never known you to hate anybody.”

You sighed, turning to face Cassian once again. “I don’t hate her. I… I think I’m mad at myself.” You thought about all those times Rhys had flirted with you, given you that lazy, sexy smirk… and you had done absolutely nothing, too scared to admit to him or yourself what those little moments had done to you. You paused, not wanting to admit it, but knowing that Cassian had opened the door for you to finally talk about your feelings for the High Lord. “I think you may be right. I think I may love him. But what does it matter? I can’t do anything about it.”

Cassian seemed taken aback. “What -- are you blind? What do you mean you can’t do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? He’s the High Lord, and he and I are so different. He would never want me.”

“Once again, I raise the question, are you blind? Have you not noticed the way he looks at you? How often he looks at you? Or how often he flirts with you? Or how angry he gets at me when I flirt with you?

You shook your head, swirling your straw around again for a distraction. “You’re out of your mind. He hasn’t looked at me once since we got here! And he’s angry at you all the time, that has nothing to do with me.”

Cassian laughed. “You don’t think maybe he’s unaware that you’re interested? You’ve never once entertained his flirting, never tried to tell him how you feel. I think he genuinely has no idea if you see him that way or not. Maybe he’s trying to give you space to come to him, when you’re ready.”

Twisting in your seat again to face away from Cassian, you glanced up and noticed that Rhys was staring right at you, his expression unreadable, and the woman talking to him seemingly forgotten. You quickly glanced away, not knowing how to feel anymore.

“Trust me,” Cassian leaned in, his breath tickling your ear, “I’ve known Rhys for a long time. He wants you. He wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything.”

“I--” a blush rushed to your cheeks as you stared at Cassian, completely lost for words. It couldn’t be true, could it? But you knew Cassian would never lie to you, especially not about something like this.

“You better pick your chin up off the floor, because he’s on his way over,” Cassian whispered to you, his smile teasing.

Before you could do anything, Rhysand was before you both, his eyes shooting between you and Cassian. His smile was easy but his eyes had a hint of something else, like he wasn’t sure what to make of the two of you right then. 

“Cassian, what have you been saying to the poor darling to make her blush like that?” Rhysand said with the hint of an edge to his voice, his violet eyes fixing on you.

“You know me, Rhys, always stirring up trouble,” Cassian grinned,squeezing your shoulder for a moment before standing up and downing his drink in one gulp. “You know what? I think it would be best if she told you all about it on her own. I’ll see you guys later,” he said, shooting you a wink before sauntering off.

Rhysand watched him go before his eyes landed back on you. “If you need me to beat him up, just say the word.” 

You laughed, feeling slightly nervous about being alone with him for the first time you could remember. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He gazed down at you, and took your hand in his, gently pulling until you were standing. “Dance with me, darling?” he purred, just as a slow, beautiful song started playing.

“Of course,” you said quietly, trying not to flush as he led you to a quiet corner of the floor, gently guiding your body close to his.

Rhysand’s touch was gentle, as it always was with you. He had a hand at your waist, idly running his thumb back and forth over the thin fabric of your dress, while his other was holding yours. He was so much taller than you and he was holding you so close that when he spoke you had to crane your neck to look up at him. 

“Are you alright? You seem… upset,” he murmured, gazing down at you with those twinkling eyes.

You felt your cheeks warm, remembering what Cassian had said, remembered Rhysand’s hand on that woman’s waist only minutes ago, and cursed yourself for it. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to sound like it was true. “I’m just a little tired, I think.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You know you can tell me anything,” he murmured. 

You tensed, your fingers tightening on his hand, his shoulder. You averted your gaze, unable to stomach the way he could read you like a book. “I don’t know if that’s true,” you whispered, barely audible over the music and the crowd, but you knew he had heard it.

The look he gave you was of pure concern. “What do you mean? Have -- Have I done something?”

Quickly, you shook your head, eyes daring to meet his again. “No! It’s just... You’re the High Lord. You’ve got a whole court to worry about. You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

Rhys scanned your face, his eyes softening. Quietly, so unbelievably quietly he said, “you have no idea, do you? You have no idea what you are to me.”

“What--” 

Before you could finish, he asked, “Will you go for a walk with me?”

You hesitated, trying to read his expression. He looked almost like he was in pain, like if you said no, it would be a tragedy. “Okay,” you said, tentatively, almost a question.

Smoothly placing his hand on the small of your back, he guided you through the crowd to the door. Cassian caught your eye and grinned, his eyebrows shooting up into a question as his gaze flicked to Rhys. You swore you could feel Rhysand roll his eyes next to you.

Once you were outside, you took a deep breath of the crisp night air, and looked up to the sky, watching the stars twinkling, trying to ground yourself before whatever was about to happen.

You felt Rhysand’s eyes on you as he took your hand, wordlessly leading you through the City of Starlight. It was unusually quiet tonight; you two were the only people around as he stopped on the bridge looking out across the river and perched his elbows on the railing, gazing out.

It took you a moment to work up the nerve, but you settled in next to him, your arms almost touching, but not quite. 

After a few moments of silence, Rhysand murmured, “you were so broken when we met. You were so alone, and all I wanted was to give you a home. It broke my heart every day to look at you during those first months.”

Try as you might, you could not think of anything to say for a long moment. Eventually you settled on, “you did give me a home, Rhys. And a family. You saved me. You gave me everything.” 

He let out a humorless laugh, still gazing out at the river. “I wanted to give you more,” he said quietly.

You felt your breath catch. “What do you mean?”

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes on fire like you’ve never seen them before. “I need you to tell me the truth. Please,” he said, his voice wavering in a way that nearly broke your heart in two. He sounded like the words hurt him. “Who am I to you? Am I just your friend? Just your High Lord? Is that all I’ve ever been?”

In this moment, there was no trace of the vibrato and easy smugness that he always wore around. He was vulnerable, pleading, and it made you wonder how many times he had wanted to ask you that question. You knew you could be ruining everything, but finally you whispered, “No. I-- I never wanted you to just be those things.”

He took a step toward you, his hand gently tilting your chin up to look at him. He murmured, “What is it that you want, darling?” 

The breath rushed from your lungs. You felt like you were drowning as he looked down at you, his eyes so intense, his breathing uneven, yet still remaining so gentle where he touched you. “I want…” you gulped, trying to find the courage necessary to get the words out. “I want you.”

Rhys’s eyes widened, his breath stopped entirely. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him as he leaned down to kiss you, tentatively at first, as if he didn’t want to scare you off. You let out an involuntary noise, almost a squeak, and after a moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. 

He groaned quietly, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, it all clicked into place. You felt it, the tug between the two of you, as if your very souls were connected. Because… maybe they were.

With a jolt, you took a step back, your hands sliding down to grasp Rhysand’s considerable biceps. He looked slightly terrified. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, eyes raking your body as if to make sure he didn’t hurt you.

You could barely get the words out, feeling like your throat was constricted. “Are you… my mate?”

Rhysand’s expression of pain and concern turned into a slow, seductive half smile that you knew so well. “It’s about time you caught up.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as he pulled you to him once again, gently brushing your hair out of your face and gazing at you with so much love, you felt like you might collapse. 

You looked at him as he steadied you, a silent question in your eyes.

“I’ve known since the moment I saw you. Felt the ground shake beneath my feet, felt the tug in my chest immediately, like nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing but you.”

You couldn't help it. You smacked his chest and he let out a soft grunt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes softened again, tinged with pain and maybe a little guilt as he looked at you. “You had never had a choice in anything before you met me. I didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t deny me. And you had so much to deal with… I didn’t want to add to your plate or confuse you. I just wanted you to heal. And I hoped and dreamed and wished to the stars that one day you would figure it out. That you would love me back.” 

Suddenly, tears burst from your eyes, running down your cheeks. He brushed them away with his thumb, so gently you wanted to cry even more. “I always loved you back,” you choked out. 

He grinned, pulling you into him tightly, kissing the top of your head with a contented sigh. “It sounds like we have to make up for a lot of lost time then,” he purred. 

You tilted your chin up to kiss him, wishing you could do it forever, and realizing with a start that you had your entire immortal life ahead of you with him. With your mate. 

As you pulled away, you mumbled, “Cassian is never going to let me live this down.”

Rhysand growled, his hands tensing on your waist. “He’s the one that pushed you into my arms tonight, is he?” 

You nodded, relishing the feeling of his arms around you, and wondering if you would ever get used to it. “Did he know?”

Rhys seemed to contemplate for a moment. “I think he figured it out. He knows me too well. I didn’t tell him, though. I didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut,” he smirked. 

The two of you gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, and Rhys smirked, giving you a look that could only mean he was undressing you with his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Cassian anymore,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your lips.

“Me either,” you breathed.

Rhys laughed seductively, gripping you tightly, before unfurling his wings and shooting you into the sky in one movement, no doubt racing you to the townhouse to do what he had been dreaming about for so, very long.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I think it’s high time I admit I accidentally gave Her a praise kink and both of them size kinks. Oops. That’s my bad y’all. Chapter Title from epiphany by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 30k (so long I had to combine paragraphs...)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Everyone takes steps forward, and a few back. Usual warnings, with extra alerts on the smut. Just so much smut.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 20 - Chapter 22

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Ben hadn’t even been that fucking tired, but his eyes had somehow closed and his brain that had been supposed to stay alert—focused on Her, her safety and every shifting movement she made against him—became glossed over and lulled into a haze by Her. In his arms, tucked into his body, with her breath hot against his skin and her heartbeat slow and steady in his ears. Safe and home, smiling slightly in her sleep and holding onto his shirt in the dark. Ben loved her, and when she’d hooked one leg over Ben’s hips and given a content sigh in her sleep he’d almost exploded. She was perfect, and clinging to him like he might vanish from her hands, and he’d made the mistake of kissing her brow.

She’d leaned into it. In deep sleep, without a single fucking thought about it, she’d pushed herself up Ben’s chest and made a small, happy humming sound that shattered all of Ben’s will and vigilance because it was just Her. So peaceful and calm, sleeping in Ben’s arms like nightmares weren’t even something to fucking consider. It was contagious. She’d used that stupid flower shampoo—it was better on Her than Ben, stronger and more potent—and her hands were still as her heartbeat rolled through him like a drug. Pulling Ben down, down, down without a fight, because she was in his arms and everything was right.

When Ben woke up, it was easy. Eyes pulling themselves open because he was rested, and the pillow against his face had blocked out all the light of morning pushing into the room. He’d rolled over in his sleep, but She wasn’t under him or at his side. There was a weight on his back that felt like Hers, and a soft sound of a piano that they didn’t own surrounding Ben’s head that Her voice floated over, smooth and controlled, brighter and warmer than the sunlight on Ben’s face when he turned his head. The whole room smelled like honey, and Ben could feel a soft wind coming from nowhere. He made a low sound—against his fucking will—and the music stopped.

“Hi,” Her voice was near his ear, and one of her arms was resting on his shoulders. She was on top of Ben, sprawled across his body with her legs half-straddling him and half-tanged in his, her hand fucking petting Ben’s hair. She was trying to fucking kill him. “You’re up.”

“Fucking obviously,” he muttered, and She just laughed into his neck. A light, joyful sound that made Ben’s whole body relax and his mouth twitch up. “Why are you sitting on me.”

Her hand trailed down the back of Ben’s head, resting on his neck. “You’re comfortable.”

“We’re on a goddamn bed-“

She leaned up, kissing Ben’s cheek with a small hum, and rolled off his body, onto the mattress beside him. Ben’s arms flew out to catch Her, stop her from getting too far away or falling off of the damn bed, and when her perfect, beautiful face landed in his view, she was smiling.

“Grumpy-“

Ben yanked Her forward, back against his body where she fit so fucking well, and kissed the small yelp out of her mouth. Let Her moan into his throat as he sat up against the headboard, pulling her with him until she was in his lap and was falling right onto his chest. Where she was fucking made to be. But, even as he fucking ate Her, Ben kept vigilant attention to her every movement and reaction. Every shift of her hips and small sound that escaped her throat when he squeezed her waist that drew them closer and closer to Ben having to stop, to reaching that unspoken limit of what he could take and take and take and give, and having to pull back so She could make that choice for him. 

She ground down on Ben once with a breathless moan, and froze. Dropped Her head down to his chest and sighed, resting against him with nothing more. She was going to apologize. She was going to try and fucking apologize to Ben for this—he recognized that small, sad sigh that meant she was going to be sorry—and he didn’t want it. He didn’t want Her to keep apologizing for everything, to keep thinking Ben gave a shit what they were doing or not doing when he had Her back. All that fucking mattered was that she was here and safe, and if Ben had to be a celibate fucking monk pussy for the rest of his life so be it. She’d be there, and Ben loved Her, and that was enough. He wished he could just tell Her he loved her, and make her understand that if she said sorry for this again, Ben would lose his fucking mind.

But he couldn’t. Not now, not when She wasn’t ready. When she was ready Ben would make Her whine and moan and do whatever the fuck she asked him to. He might die on his knees for Her, just to try and make her get it. Finally fucking believe that She was the most important thing in the universe, and Ben was lucky she was just sharing oxygen with him. That he fucking loved Her, and she should never apologize to him. He would rather eat a goddamn bullet than have her think she ever needed to apologize to him. So he spoke before She could even try to.

“You were singing.”

She tilted her head up, watching Ben with a frown. “What?” 

“Before I woke up,” he grunted, pulling Her a little higher up his chest. He wanted her closer, as close as she’d fucking allow. “You were singing.” 

“Yeah, I,” She sighed, and her arms moved up to wrap around Ben’s neck. “I just wanted to see what I could do. If I’d regressed.” 

Ben paused, examining Her sad expression, her soft words echoing in his head. “You didn’t sing at Vought.” 

“No,” She shook her head. “They never even mentioned it. I don’t think they forgot, Sage wouldn’t forget. Homelander-“ She made a small, pained sound with the name, and that was enough of that fucking shit. “He-“ 

Ben kissed her, gentle and soft until she sighed and her nails stopped digging into his skin. When he pulled back—She was so fucking perfect, swollen lips parted and pretty eyes watching him—Ben said Her name, firm and slow. “Tell me what you were singing.”

She blinked. “But-“ 

“No.” Ben glared at Her, and she swallowed her own words. “Tell me about your fucking song, or shut the hell up.” 

“Rude.” Her words were mumbled, but lighter. No strain in her voice, the pure fucking sadness in her eyes fading when she looked at Ben. “You’re not the boss of me, Benjamin, you can’t tell me what to do.”

He snorted. “You don’t even listen to your real boss, Sunshine. I don’t think that would change a single goddamn thing.”

“Well-“

“And,” Ben leaned down, bumping his nose with hers. “I don’t need to be your boss to tell you what to do. You like it when I order you around.” 

Her face was flushed, breathing heavy against Ben’s mouth, and she was so fucking perfect. “Fuck you.” 

He winked. “That’s the idea.” 

“Horny old man.”

“It’s all for you, beautiful.” He kissed her nose, and she made a small, high sound that was going to make Ben cum in his pants like a teenager. “Tell me about your music, or admit you get turned on when I tell you what to do.”

“You can’t fucking prove that I-“

“Don’t need to.” Ben pulled back, grinning down at Her. “I know how fucking wet you get when I throw you around, or make you beg.”

“Ben-“

“If it helps,” he grabbed Her chin gently, holding her gaze to his. “I think it’s fucking hot when you tell me what to do.”

She swallowed, chewing on her mouth as she watched Ben with wide eyes. “You do?”

What he wanted to say was don’t be dumb, Sunshine, of course I fucking do. You get all bossy and loud, and it makes me want to throw you against a wall to see just how loud I can get you. It makes me fucking love you more, because you’re not afraid of me and trust that I’ll listen to you. Because you never fucking waver, and I love you, and I think you should keep telling me what to do for the rest of fucking time, because that means you’re with me for the rest of fucking time and I can fuck you and make you so goddamn happy and I love you. I fucking love you, and you’re a brat who thinks she knows everything, but you actually do and it’s so fucking hot. And I love you. But He can’t say that. Not now.

“I do.” Ben smirked at Her, running his thumb over her lower lip. “Just like you it when I tell you how beautiful you are, and tell you to say my name, and how good you are-“

She made a strangled sound, and something flashed through Ben’s body. Some sort of feeling that was consuming and vast and powerful, that rushed through him before being almost yanked away. She’d leaned back, away from Ben, and this was the line he had to walk. He didn’t fucking understand it, why She’d let him say almost every filthy thought he had aloud, why she’d let Ben tell her all the ways he wanted to fuck her, but wouldn’t allow him to just do it. Just fuck Her smart as shit brain empty and blissful, let Ben make her feel good like she deserved. Why when she peeled off of his body she did it like it was impossible, why she kept looking at Ben with a fucking want and adoration but wouldn’t just tell him what to do to help. He wanted to fucking help her, make this better for her, and she wouldn’t tell him how.

All he could do was stay, and wait, and keep finding that exact line between making Her smile and happy and heartbeat steady, and telling her he fucking loved her and having her moan into his throat while he fucked her until she was good. Ben didn’t want Her to be okay or fine, she needed to be goddamn good. Nobody deserved to be fucking good like she did. To feel as desired as Ben desired her, to have someone love them like Ben loved her. He’d do anything for her. The longer she was near him to more certain Ben became that he’d do fucking anything for her. Which was why he had to wait. He had to file away how She’d looked at him when he’d called her good and try to ignore his boner—making a poor attempt to shift it away from Her thigh—and just wait. She wanted him, Ben knew she wanted him, and now all he had to do was wait.

“I’m-“

“Music,” Ben snapped, because she wasn’t fucking apologizing to him. She’d stayed on the bed— leaning into Ben’s side with her head buried in his shoulder—and there wasn’t a single reason she needed to apologize. “Tell me about your music.”

“It’s not interesting,” Her voice was muffled against Ben’s body, breath warm on his skin. “I was just practicing. I don’t even really remember what I was singing-“

Ben knew what she’d been singing. It was one of the songs he’d tried to learn while she was gone, but had been so slow and long and tedious so he’d given the fuck up and moved onto something with a goddamn beat. And when he grunted the answer for Her, she looked up at him with narrow eyes. 

“How did you know?” 

“You’ve sung it before,” he muttered. “I pay attention, Sunshine-” 

“And I’ve never sung that one.” She shuffled up, onto her knees, until her eyes were level with Ben’s. “Truth, Benjamin. Now.”

“That was-“ 

“Nope.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t.” 

Ben scowled. This shouldn’t be so hard to tell Her. He’d missed her, she knew he’d missed her, and it wasn’t a big fucking deal. She might tease him, but she always teased him. And she wouldn’t figure out Ben loved her just from this. He wouldn’t lose his chance to tell Her the right way—holding her perfect face in his hands, when there was nothing to interrupt them or try to separate them, when Ben could fuck her immediately after—because there wasn’t a chance something this stupid would give him away.

“I listened to your music while you were gone.”

“Oh.”

“I missed you.” He grunted, trying to figure out if that was a confused oh, or a turned on oh, or a I’ve figured out you love me, Benjamin oh. “And I was bored as fucking balls. I listened to all your stupid songs, and that was one of them. It’s not-“

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper, and her whole face was soft. Looking at Ben with that adoration in her eyes, tugging on his arm until his words trailed off. “I missed you too.”

“I fucking know that-“

“No,” She shook her head, hands running mindlessly up and down Ben’s skin. “I really, really missed you. And I’m-“

“Don’t say sorry,” Ben glared at her. “If you say sorry, I’ll never kiss you again.” 

She scoffed. “Fuck off, Pretty Boy. We both know that’s not true.” 

It was. Ben would probably die if he never kissed her again. But he wasn’t losing this argument. “You don’t want to take that bet, Sunshine.” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Someone’s real fucking sure of herself-“ 

“Well,” She grinned, smug and perfect and Ben fucking loved her. “It’s hard not to be when I just had Soldier Boy say he listened to music because he missed me-“

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” Ben leaned forwards, letting their lips brush, savoring how her words died with the pretty flush of Her face. “And of course I missed you.” I fucking love you. “Nobody else moans my name quite like you do. Brat.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re such an asshole.”

“You fucking love it.”

She was silent, watching Ben like he was everything but with something heavy in her eyes. Mouth a small pout Ben couldn’t understand for his goddamn life. She’d looked at him like this before, and Ben never fucking understood what it meant. If it was just lust—her eyes were blown out, and Her heart was fast—or that adoration, or want or need or fucking what-

“I do,” She sighed softy, and Ben was fucking confused. “You’re a cunt, but I do.” 

He grunted Her name, because she needed to stop looking at Ben like that or he’d tell her he loved her. If She kept staring at Ben with her hands warm on his arm and that small smile on her mouth that he couldn’t understand, Ben would damn any consequence or repercussion and say he loved Her. 

“You didn’t have any nightmares.”

Ben blinked at Her, word dying in his throat. “What.”

“You were asleep for hours,” She tilted her head at him. “No nightmares.”

“What the fuck does that matter.” 

“You said they were getting worse. I can start working on your PTSD again-“ 

“No.” Ben’s words were fast, firm, and rough. He hadn’t had a fucking nightmare last night, he’d slept like a goddamn baby, but She was with him, so everything was fine. And even if it wasn’t, Annie’s words kept fucking rattling around in his head. Don’t hurt her. “I’ve got a grip on it.”

“But-“

He said Her name, moving up to kiss her brow and hum words against her skin. “This isn’t your fucking problem. I’ve got it.”

“I want to help-“

“I know,” he sighed, because of course She did. Stupid fucking perfect and kind woman. “But I’ve fucking got it handled.”

She nodded slowly, rising higher on her knees until they were level once more. “Promise?” 

“Swear it.” 

“You’ll keep,” She swallowed. “You’ll keep sleeping in bed with me? Even with the nightmares?”

“Do you want me to.” 

“Yes-“

“Then I will.” Ben shrugged, because it was that fucking simple. She wanted him here, this was where he would be. He still thought it was a dumb as shit idea—she needed to be able to always sleep peacefully, never be worried about Ben’s nightmares of blood waking her up—but he’d still stay. If all he could do was stay, he’d stay. “But you don’t get to waste time on my shell shock.”

“It’s not wasting time,” She frowned. “It helps you.” 

“I’m fine, Sunshine.” 

“But-“ 

“No.” Ben moved a hand into Her hair, stopping the frantic shake of her head. “I keep sleeping in the bed, you don’t work on the shell shock. Deal?” 

She sighed. “Deal.” 

Ben grinned, and kissed her once. It was long, biting her lip and running his tongue along the roof of her mouth, going until she was breathless and slack against his body. They probably had to fucking move, Ben could see the sun higher in the sky, and they both had shit to do. Soon, Butcher would start barging into their bedroom and demanding they attended the team meeting, and Ben was not going to allow that shit. This version of Her—where she molded perfectly against him and smiled at him so easily—was sacred, and Butcher wasn’t allowed to see. Nobody was allowed to see it but Ben, because she only showed it to him and he’d protect that with his goddamn life. So—in a display of restraint and sheer fucking willpower that should earn Ben some sort of medal—he pulled back. Ben gave Her one last tug of her lip between his teeth, sat in the needy sound that left her throat, and grinned down at her perfect, relaxed face. “Hungry?”

She nodded, and made a soft, heady sound that made Ben’s brain a little fucking foggy.

“Up,” he grunted, wrapping his arms around Her hauling her up his chest. “Let’s move.”

“What time-“

“Late.” He muttered. “And we need to eat before the meeting.”

“The meeting?” She frowned, arms tensing where they still rested around Ben’s neck. “What meeting?”

“Team meeting. At noon. It’s-“

“At noon?” She whacked his shoulder, and Ben tried to keep his gaze locked ahead as he stood, feeling Her glare burning into him. “Benjamin, why didn’t you fucking tell me-“

“I forgot,” he snapped. “I got fucking distracted, you’re just as much to blame-“

“Oh, fuck you.” Ben made the mistake of glaring down at Her, finding her sticking her tongue out at him and having to fight the urge to toss her back onto the bed and keep Her there forever. “I didn’t know. You did.”

“Well, if you hadn’t fucking sat on me, I wouldn’t have gotten off track and we’d have been downstairs a goddamn hour ago.”

“If you weren’t such a horny old cunt,” She grinned at him, kissing his neck and trying to fucking kill him. “You’d have been able to remember to do your job.”

“Brat.” He scowled into the air, trying to ignore how her pretty giggle rolled through his body, and she was trailing up to him jaw and driving him fucking insane. “I am doing my goddamn job, and we’re not fucking late to anything yet-”

“Yet,” She hummed. “I think you almost completely forgot. I think your memory is going-“

“My memory,” Ben found a better grip on Her body, using one arm to support her legs wrapped around his body and allowing the other to reach up and tug her face away from him, forcing Her to meet his eyes. “Is goddamn fine. You’re just a fucking needy, beautiful distraction.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her mouth fall open and smirking at the small whine that escaped her. He wasn’t even fucking touching Her. “But next time, I’ll just ignore you. I won’t suck your pretty face, or make you feel good. Is that what you fucking want?”

He’s won. She’s scoffing and rolling her eyes, squirming out of Ben’s grip, and he’s finally won one of these stupid things with words.

“Shut up.”

“No, you fucking said I should do my job, Sunshine, so next time you climb on me, I’ll throw you off and leave-“

She shoved his chest, pulling away from Ben’s arm trying to steady her feet. “Fuck you.”

“I won’t, not it if you don’t admit-“

She pulled his head down, kissing him like he was water and she’d been lost in the desert for years. Ben understood that, because he’d nearly fucking died of starvation while she’d been gone. He hadn’t even been hungry before her, he’d felt satisfied and been completely fucking satiated, then he’d gotten her and now he’d crave her for the rest of goddamn time. She was fucking perfect, and Ben loved Her, and when she kissed him like this he had to growl against her and dive down to make Her whine so he didn’t say it. He could say it. She was kissing Ben like he was everything and maybe, if he said it now, She’d just keep going. She’d smile at him and say Benjamin, I love you too, and he’d tell Her I love you more, Sunshine. You’re so goddamn perfect, and I love you so fucking much. It’s not possible for you to love me more than I love you, because nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you. You drive me goddamn insane, and I’m going to fuck you until you get that. Got it? 

Ben almost heard her response, breathless in his ear even as she moaned into his mouth. Got it. But I love you more.

The feeling was back. For a split second something flashed like lightning through Ben’s body, setting him on fire before vanishing. She pulled her mouth away and took a small step back, and all Ben could do was stare at her and bite his tongue so he didn’t say it. She’d moved away again, she wasn’t ready, and Ben couldn’t say it.

“We should get ready,” she mumbled, staring intently at Ben’s chest. Not meeting his eyes. “It’s 11:30.”

“You need to eat-“ 

“I’ll go get dressed,” she glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the kitchen. “And you make some food? I don’t know what we have-“

“I can do it,” Ben muttered, taking a careful step toward Her. Another when she looked up at him and didn’t move away. “Sandwich?”

She nodded. “That sounds good. Do you want your phone?”

Ben grunted in agreement, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

She took a small step, standing right before Ben without actually just fucking touching him. His back went straight, his whole body tensing as he waited. She’d tell him what she wanted, and this was fucking killing him but he’d let her. He wouldn’t pick her up and eat her out on the dining room table, or slam her back into the wall and make her cum on his fingers like before. He had to wait, and it was worth it. All she did was smile at him with teeth and pure goddamn joy on her face, reaching up and kissing Ben’s cheek, and Christ on a fucking cross it was worth more than anything in the world. He didn’t breathe until She pulled back, didn’t do anything but watch Her and swallow down a shout of I love you, I fucking love you, do that again because I fucking love you and it’s better than any fucking high or rush as she turned and walked back up the stairs.

Ben made Her a sandwich and coffee—stupid goddamn love was turning him into a pussy and he couldn’t even bring himself to give a fuck—and caught his phone when she reappeared over on the loft strip, leaning over the railing and chucking it at his face.

“Jesus fucking christ, woman-“

She scoffed. “Don’t be a baby, Benjamin, you caught it. You’ve got a text from Butcher.”

Ben frowned down at his phone, where William Butcher; asshole, bother as much as possible, 3 Messages was displaying in a small banner on his lock screen. When he looked back up She was already gone back into the bedroom—Ben could hear her shuffling around, hear drawers opening and fabrics shifting, and had to actively fight the image of her naked out of his head—so he returned his attention to his phone and read Butcher’s texts.

William Butcher; asshole, bother as much as possible

Mallory said she’s been cleared, so you both better be at the meeting

Ryan will meet you both in the gym after

You two twats need to stop reunion fucking long enough to get to the dining hall

Nobody had told Ben they had a gym. He’d been here for four fucking months, and not once had anyone said they had a gym. He’d have to yell at Butcher about that later though, because she was walking back down the stairs, frowning at him and glancing at the phone in his hand.

“Everything good?”

He gave a tight nod, looking Her up and down. She was dressed—that was Ben’s fucking shirt—and her fingers were tapping at her side. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing-“

Ben said Her name flatly, narrowing his eyes and holding her gaze. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine, Ben.” She sighed. “Will Ryan be there? At the meeting?”

“After. We’re meeting him in the gym.” Ben frowned, hearing Her heartbeat stumble. “If you don’t want to-“

“No!” She shook her head, eyes widening. “I want to, I do. I’m just, what if he doesn’t like me? Then what?”

He loved Her. Her eyes on Ben’s were so soft and concerned and Ben fucking loved Her. He took one long step across the room, pulling her up into his chest and holding Her perfect face between his hands, kissing Her until that worried little frown vanished and was replaced by an open mouth for Ben to mutter into.

“Stop being fucking insane.” 

She pushed his chest, but didn’t try to pull away. “Fucking rude-“

“I’ve already told you,” he grunted Her name, and her hands loosened on his shirt. “The Kid likes you.”

“You don’t know that-“

“I do.” Ben moved back, glaring at Her. “I’ve fucking talked to him about it, and he wouldn’t stop asking about you. Asking to meet you. He’s going to like you just fine, because he’s not a goddamn idiot.”

She swallowed. “You’ve really talked to him about me?”

Ben needed to learn when to shut the fuck up. His inability to not just tell Her everything he did and everything he thought didn’t bode well for keeping the fact that he loved her a secret. “I told you I did, and I’m not a fucking-” 

“Liar pussy, I know.” She was grinning again, and her eyes were sharp, so Ben decided however she was about to fucking tease him for this was worth it. “You didn’t say what you told him.” 

“I don’t remember.” That wasn’t a lie. Ben couldn’t fucking remember exactly what he’d told the Kid, because the Kid had asked a fuck ton of questions and Ben had answered all of them. He genuinely didn’t know what he had and hadn’t told the Kid. “But he already likes you. So don’t lose your damn mind worrying about it.”

“Okay.” Her voice was a whisper, and Ben kissed the top of Her head.

“You’re good.”

“I’m good.” She pulled back, tilting her head at Ben. “Did you say gym?”

“Butcher said we’re meeting the Kid there after the meeting.”

“Huh.” She frowned. “I didn’t know we had a gym.”

Ben snorted. Fucking Christ he loved Her. “They don’t tell us fucking shit, Sunshine.” He kissed the space between her eyes, light and soft and because he fucking could, and forced himself to step away. “I’m going to get changed. Eat.”

She wrinkled her perfect nose at him. “I was going to, don’t tell me what to do-“

“You like it.” 

“Fuck you.”

Ben winked, starting to walk past Her to the stairs. “You’d like that as well, wouldn’t you.”

She flipped him off, stalking to the kitchen, and Ben laughed. Really, fully laughed, feeling his goddamn cheeks hurt from grinning at Her. He fucking loved Her, and he’d missed so many goddamn things about Her—Her beautiful face, her pretty smile, her big words and smart fucking mouth, the sounds she made when Ben touched her—but he’d mostly just missed Her. The way that everything was good when she was there. How Ben could laugh and it felt so fucking simple to do so, because She was there and it would be a goddamn crime to keep joy from her. The whole fucking apartment looked better with her in it. It wasn’t big, barely three fucking rooms, but Ben hadn’t even realized how hollow it had felt without her presence filling it up. Her heartbeat echoing around it, her soft cursing when she dropped something, her tapping on the surface of the table as she ate. The light leaking in through the windows was a little brighter, everything smelled like Her again, and when Ben opened the drawers of their dresser Her clothes had moved. Because she was home to move them.

Ben changed fast, and managed to get downstairs right before the clock hit noon. She was waiting for him at the door, arms crossed, glaring at him as he walked to meet her.

“We’re going to be late, Benjamin.”

“What the hell are you talking about, it’s noon right now-“

“The meeting is at noon, dummy.” She linked Her arm through Ben’s, tugging him into the hall. “We’re supposed to be there already.”

“They can’t fucking start without us-“

“Exactly,” she gave him a flat look over her shoulder. “So walk faster, Pretty Boy. And you’re taking all the blame when we get there.”

Ben’s glower and eye roll was a complete fucking performance. She was touching him and talking to him, so he’d do whatever she told him to. He’d take the blame—Mallory could suck his fucking dick if they got shit for being five minutes late—and if She was really upset about being late, Ben would make it up to her later. He’d steal her some chocolate, or watch a movie with her, or tell her about all the shows he’d watched while she’d been gone until she smiled at him. Then he’d eat her face until she moaned. He’d probably do all of that shit anyway, but she never needed to know that.

Everyone was waiting for them, giving them varying levels of dirty looks when they walked into the dining hall. Mallory seemed to be the only one truly pissed, because MM’s glower was probably about respecting people’s motherfucking time and Butcher’s was lined with a smug amusement at Ben being pulled behind Her like a fucking dog. A-Train looked nervous—Ben was a little fucking shocked he was even here—and The French Prick, Kimiko, Annie, and Hughie just looked happy to see Her. Everyone should always be happy to see Her, so Ben wasn’t going to award them any points for that. He would appreciate Kimiko standing up and crossing the room, though, signing shit Ben didn’t understand that made her smile. Point against Kimiko, She had to fucking let go of Ben to respond. Point back to Kimiko, they hugged. Without hesitation, Kimiko hugged Her, and that was what made Ben give the woman a small nod when they pulled apart.

“Look who finally managed to pull his bloody dick out-“

“Butcher,” Annie sighed. “Can you save the sex stuff for after the meeting? Please?”

Butcher looked like he was going to argue, but Mallory snapped over him.

“We’re working, William. Save the personal talk for your own time.”

“We fuckin live here,” Butcher muttered. “Ain’t no difference between our work hours and personal hours.”

“Well this is work,” Mallory’s glare turned to Her and Ben. “And I expect professionalism.”

Ben scowled, slinging his arm over Her shoulders as they walked to the table. “We’re not fucking in front of you, so shove it up your damn ass, lady.”

“You’re late-“

“By five damn minutes,” Ben snapped, dropping on the end of the bench, keeping her at his side. Fighting the instinct to hide Her from Mallory’s tight lips and angry eyes, because she’d want to handle herself and Ben wasn’t interested in her kicking his ass right now. “We’re not delaying fucking shit anymore, that’s all you.”

Mallory looked them up and down, eyes narrowing. “Next time, I expect you both to be five minutes early.”

Ben shrugged. “Make this worth our fucking time.”

“Mallory,” She injected, and Ben looked down to find her leaning forward, elbows on the table. “We’re sorry, but can we please just get started?”

“Fine.” Mallory crossed her arms, shooting Ben one last sneering glare. “We’ll start with new developments. Campbell, updates on the V?”

“Um,” Hughie glanced around the table. “There aren’t any. I’ve been going through all the shell companies, but half of them were dissolved. Two weeks ago, actually.”

“What about the offshore accounts?” A-Train frowned. “I gave a shit ton of them, Hughie, you should’ve been able to find something.”

“No, I shouldn’t have.” Hughie was actually glaring. Ben had never seen him glare. He looked like a damn angry mouse. “All of them were emptied into the shell companies, then the shell companies were dissolved.”

MM ran a hand over his beard, shaking his head. “That money didn’t just fucking vanish, Hughie. They put it somewhere.”

“I know, I just can’t find where-“

“Keep at it, Lad, you’ll come through.” Ben gave Hughie a nod, and Hughie leaned back with a sad look at Annie. “MM, any progress on Sacramento?” 

“I reached out to my contact at the FDA, but they said that the port worked with pasteurized produce, not narcotics.”

“That was the cover,” A-Train muttered. “We were supposed to keep it off the feds radar. There’s V there, I swear-“

Butcher scoffed. “Just like you bloody swore ‘bout Atlanta?”

“Sage must have gotten there first-“

Ben felt a tug at his arm, and looked down to find Her frowning up at him. What’s going on?

We’ve been looking for the V. A-Train gave us a long as fuck list of locations and shit, but none of them worked.

She nodded slowly. What about the FDA? Or Military?

Ben blinked at Her. What.

After everyone found out about V, didn’t the government confiscate like, a shit ton of it?

I don’t fucking know, I was in Russia.

And I was underground. She gave Ben a flat look. I read about it, Pretty Boy. You could’ve as well.

Why would I read when I can just have you tell me everything? He winked, and She stuck her tongue out at him.

Cunt.

Brat. Ben glanced up, and everyone was still fucking talking about Atlanta. Tell them about the FDA. 

She gave a small shake of her head. I don’t think Mallory will like it. 

Mallory can go fuck herself with the stick up her ass. Tell them.

She sighed, and raised Her hand. When nobody noticed, Ben gave an aggressive cough that turned everyone’s eyes to them.

“What the fuck was that, are you sick-“

“I can’t get sick, dumb-fuck.” Ben cut MM off with a glare. “We’ve got an idea.”

“We?” She elbowed Ben’s ribs. “Who’s we, Benjamin?”

Ben scowled, and She just grinned at him. “Fucking Christ, she has a plan.”

“Well will you cunts stop bloody eye-fuckin and tell us?”

“We weren’t eye fucking Butcher. And it’s,” She sighed, fingers tapping on the table. “I’m not sure about it.”

“It’s better than nothing,” MM sighed Her name. “What do you got.”

“When I got out, I read about the V scandal.” She frowned, and Ben knew she was thinking, picking out all the right words to convince them. “I also read that a large amount of V was confiscated by the FDA, and the Department of Defense was granted a warrant by Congress to take some for ‘studies’,” She made small air quotes, looking around the table. “Sage probably has people in the Pentagon, but it would be harder for her to make V that’s under federal control vanish.”

“What, exactly, are you implying?” Mallory’s voice was cold, and She swallowed.

“MM has a contact at the FDA. We could ask if they still have any V.” She sighed. “Or we could meet with Singer? He kind of owes us, after Nueman-“ 

“The President doesn’t owe you anything.” Mallory snapped, and Ben’s vision went a little red as She gave a small nod. “Vought has international locations, it’s unlikely Sage has been able to flush all of them out-“ 

“This isn’t a horrible idea, Grace.” MM was watching Her, brows knit. “It’s a sure fucking bet, and a hell of a lot safer than raiding a Vought warehouse. I can reach out again, see what they’ve got for us.“ 

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask Singer either,” Annie added, nodding slowly. “Worst he says is no, right?”

Mallory’s lips somehow got fucking thinner. “We are not wasting his time-“

“It ain’t wastin’ time if he’s got what we’re fuckin lookin for.” Butcher drawled. “And if he do, we’ll all take turns suckin him off as a thank you.”

Hughie blinked. “I, uh, I don’t want to do that-“

“I’m not sucking anyone off, Butcher, you can shove that right up your ass-“

“Bloody hell,” Butcher rolled his eyes, cutting MM and Hughie off. “Frenchie will, then.”

The French Prick shrugged. “For America, of course.”

“Me and you, Mate, are the only cunts committed to the safety of this bleedin country, and we ain’t even citizens-“

“Butcher,” Annie sighed. “On topic, please.”

“Fuckin party pooper, ain’t you Starlight.” Annie’s scowl deepened as Butcher turned away. “MM, reach out to the FDA again. Grace, it ain’t gonna kill Singer or destroy America for him to meet with us for a bloody hour.”

“William-“

“If you don’t, I will.” Butcher’s eyes narrowed at Mallory. “I’ll even send Soldier Boy ‘ere to drag ‘im by the ear. We’re runnin out of options, now ain’t the time to be picky.”

Ben didn’t even bother to tell Butcher to shove it up his ass and stop giving orders. He would drag Singer by the ear, what the fuck could that pussy do to him anyway? 

Mallory scowled, looking around the table and seeing the determined, set faces all siding with Her plan. Apparently Ben wasn’t surrounded by complete fucking idiots.

“Fine. Let’s move on to the next item on the agenda,” Mallory’s gaze rested on Her, saying Her name in a clipped voice. “Have you checked the news today?”

“No,” She mumbled, fingers tapping faster. “But I don’t have a phone to check it with.”

Mallory frowned, but gave a tight nod. “In that case, I recommend you pay attention. Marvin?”

MM leaned forward. Giving Her an apologetic look that made Ben’s skin crawl.

“Homelander gave an address.”

Her heart picked up, and her hand shot up to Ben’s arm around her shoulders, smoke rising against his skin. “What,” Ben pressed his thigh to hers, and she took a steadying breath. “What did he say?”

“I’m not fucking sure how to-“ MM cut himself off, pulled out his phone, and slid it across the table with a sigh. “I think it’s best if you see for yourself.”

It was a news article. A video playing of Homelander behind a podium with a sad, weak fucking pussy expression as he addressed the camera. Sage was standing behind him, with her face neutral and bored. The audio was off, but Ben didn’t even really fucking notice it. He read the headline above the video, and clenched his jaw so hard his teeth might have shattered. 

Homelander Accuses CIA of Kidnapping Fiancée, Anomaly

Ben read the word once. Twice. A third time just to certain he wasn’t going fucking insane. Fiancée. Homelander’s Fiancée.

“What the fuck is this.” He growled, not addressing anyone in particular. Pulling Her further into his side, running his fingers in small circles on the skin of her shoulder as her heart picked up faster and faster. Her breathing was mechanical, and it was making Ben cold. She looked so fucking afraid and Ben’s whole body was cold. He felt fucking sick, and between Her every breath he could almost hear her voice going no. No, no, no. “Someone better start talking, right goddamn now-“

“It’s Sage’s move,” She whispered, staring at the table and shaking her head. “She’s giving herself jus ad bellum. I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it coming.”

Hughie frowned. “Pretend that some of us don’t know what jus ad bellum is-”

“Right of war,” MM muttered. “Justification for further escalation. But how the hell would you have seen this shit coming?” MM said Her name, nodding at the screen. “It’s an insane gamble, even for Sage-“ 

“No, it’s not.” She looked up slowly, taking a long, unsteady breath that made Ben’s heart move into his throat. “It’s what she’s been planning. She knew I’d escape-” 

“How?” Hughie leaned around Annie to look at Her, titling his head. “Sorry, I mean, how could she have known? Wouldn’t she have tried to stop you-”

“No, that sounds like Sage,” A-Train shook his head with a sigh. “That bitch plays 4-D chess, you won’t understand why she does something until it’s too late and it’s paid off for her.”

She nodded. “She told me a week ago I was going to propose to Homelander on TV, as a surprise. And if I didn’t, She’d-” Her eyes flicked up to Ben, and she swallowed. “Hurt people. She knew I wouldn’t, she knew I’d escape. I think I surprised her by telling Homelander I was going to marry him, though-“

Butcher gaped at Her, voicing Ben’s almost exact thoughts. “You fuckin what-“

“I needed him away from Vought. It worked, and it might be the only thing Sage didn’t anticipate. She probably thought I’d just run, and Homelander would give up on me.”

“No more hang ups,” MM muttered. “No more dealing with his obsession and erratic outbursts about you.” 

“Exactly.” She swallowed. “But I told him I’d marry him, and now he probably just thinks I was taken from him again. So her move is to back us into a corner. We say I left of my own volition, and we’re ignoring the gravity of the situation. We admit I’m here, it’s because you took me.”

“What if we just ignore it?” Annie’s suggestion was hesitant. She didn’t even fucking believe in it herself. “Don’t even respond-“

“We have to respond,” She gave Annie a small, sad smile. “I’m too important to this now. I made myself important, and Sage doubled down on that. If the CIA doesn’t put out some sort of statement, Sage will say silence is complicity.”

“You got any ideas?” MM glanced at Ben, giving him a small nod. “Soldier Boy said you were working on something-“ 

“I was,” She whispered. “But I didn’t plan for this. I don’t-“ 

“We’ll figure it out,” Ben grunted, unable to stand the slightly strangled sound of Her words. “They haven’t fucking won, Sunshine, we’ll figure it out.” 

She nodded, and when she leaned into his side Ben didn’t feel quite as cold anymore. “I know. I mean, I could try to distance myself-“

“That ain’t gonna fuckin work, Love.” Butcher muttered. “You’re America’s bloody Valentine, don’t matter what you say or do.”

“Butcher’s right,” Annie gestured between herself, A-Train, and—after a moment of hesitation—Ben. “We all know, these things get away from you. You’re more of a symbol, whatever people want to hear, they will.”

“What if,” She was chewing on her cheek, frowning ahead at nothing, and Ben knew she was about to say something fucking insane. “Everyone keeping in mind that there are no bad ideas in brainstorming, what if I kill myself?”

Fucking Christ.

“I think,” Hughie swallowed. “I think there might be bad ideas in brainstorming.”

“Just, listen-“

“No,” Ben snapped, trying to ignore the drums sounding far away. “Shut the fuck up, you’re not doing that.”

“I wouldn’t actually kill myself, Ben.” She leaned forwards, starting to talk far too fucking fast for how Ben’s heart was still pounding in his ears. “I mean, I can’t. But I need to be out of the picture, and this way you can say Homelander drove me to it-“ She cut herself off, frowning at nothing. “No. Wait.”

The room was silent, and Ben could fucking hear Her thinking. Hear her brain running through scenarios, her voice in his head going Sage will twist that. Say it’s a CIA cover up. It needs to be something she can twist, but not well. Not a red herring for our intentions or where I might be, but a placeholder. Make it static, make it ready for when we need it. Any attacks need to be easily deniable, implied, unactionable. Any response from Vought has to be suspicious, otherwise we’re just exposed. And I can’t be dead. That was stupid. If I’m dead, I’m too far removed, and it’s permanent. But I still can’t be here, that’s too easy for Sage to say I’m being held hostage. It won’t matter what I say myself, Annie’s right about that, so I need to be-

“I’m missing,” She said, and Ben blinked. That was aloud. “I’m just missing. Nobody knows where I am, and I’m certainly not here. The CIA is working to recover me, but you don’t have any leads. I left New York, and I’m missing, and,” she paused, tilting her head. “You’re praying for my safety.”

Mallory frowned. “Is that all you have? Just push the problem away-”

“No,” She was smiling, and it was manic and feral and a little fucking hot. A lot fucking hot. She had an idea, and it was one Ben could probably get behind, and she was fucking hot. “In the statement, say you’re not sure what happened, that it’s truly just a bipartisan tragedy, and mention that you’re not sure how it all got away from Vought. No matter what, I was in their care. That’s two people who Homelander cares about, Ryan Butcher and I, who have just vanished. You can’t say it’s because Homelander hurt me, but you can allude to it. You can say it’s so heartbreaking that I disappeared right after we got engaged. How odd.”

“It’s a non action,” MM nodded, watching Her carefully. “Walk the line. Keep Homelander going full fucking human genocide, dwindle supporters, bide time.”

She nodded. “Exactly. The CIA can’t be on the record with the rest, people won’t trust it.”

“The rest?” Butcher narrowed his eyes, looking between Her and Ben, as if Ben had a fucking clue what she was talking about. “There ain’t much more-“

“There’s more,” She took a deep breath, smile wavering slightly and falling into a determined, set look. “It’s time to tell the truth.”

“What fuckin’ truth.”

“About me,” She swallowed. “The truth about me. A few hours after the CIA’s statement, Annie’s going to tell the truth about me. And exposé on Vought, out of necessity. That I didn’t want people to know, but now I’m missing and people need to be aware.” 

“How much of the truth?” Hughie rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head at nothing. “Like, what you’ve been doing with us? Or-“

“All of it,” She mumbled. “My real identity. What Homelander did. All my powers, how I broke out, how I’ve been working with you guys, with Ben, how Homelander took me. All of it.”

“Why not have the CIA make these accusations?” The French Prick frowned. “Make them official, or believable.”

“They need to be unofficial. We can’t incite legal action, there’s no telling what Homelander will do.” She sighed. “People will either go all in on the Homelander train, or finally realize what he is. His more powerful supporters, senators and representative and military officials, will want to distance themselves. It will slow him down from government power, and Sage will latch onto this. She’ll point out how there’s not any evidence, because technically it’s just speculation and I’m not here to testify. But it has to be the whole truth. And it has to be Annie.” She gave Annie an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”

“I’m okay with it,” Annie shook her head, giving Her a nervous look. “Are you? It’s going to be a lot-“

“I know. I’m ready.”

She was fucking lying. Ben knew she was fucking lying. Her voice was too steady, she was half on-top of him, and all her movements were mechanical. The picture perfect image of someone who was okay, the one she presented right before she collapsed, screaming in Ben’s arms.

He didn’t get a chance to call Her fucking shit, though, because behind them the dining hall door creaked open and half the table jumped up with their guns pointed at the intruder, Ben taking a large step to block Her from view.

The Kid yelped. “It’s just me! It’s Ryan Butcher! Don’t shoot!”

“Blood hell, Ryan,” Butcher glared at the Kid as everyone’s guns lowered, Ben not missing Mallory’s glower at him as he tucked his own back into his pants. “I told you to fuckin wait-“ 

“It’s 1:30,” the Kid mumbled, glancing at Ben. “They were supposed to meet me at 1:15, I just got nervous-“

Butcher frowned. “I told you they’d be there at 1:45.”

The Kid shook his head. “1:15. It’s okay, I can wait, I just wanted to make sure nobody had, um, forgotten.”

Ben felt bad. He hadn’t fucking done anything, but the Kid looked so fucking sad and now Ben felt like a piece of shit. It didn’t help when She bumped his arm, and he turned to find Her watching him with pretty, hopeful fucking eyes.

Can we go now, Ben? The meeting’s kind of over, and Ryan’s already here. We don’t even know where the gym is, and he can show us.

It was fucking amusing she was phasing it as a question. If she’d said Ben, we’re going now, it would have had the exact same goddamn effect. They were going, now.

“Wait outside, Kid, we’ll be there.” Ben looked up, glaring around the table. “Anyone got a fucking problem with that?”

“This meeting is not over-“

“Yeah, it is.” Ben snapped, holding Mallory’s glare. “You’ve got a plan, we’re done.”

Malloy crossed her arms. “I still have yet to receive a debrief about Vought Tower-”

“I don’t have much to say about it, Mallory,” She mumbled, sounding fucking guilty. “I mean, I was a hostage. You don’t tell hostage’s your evil plans for world domination.”

“Is that her?” The Kid piped up, still at the door, not in the hall like Ben had defiantly fucking ordered him to be. Looking at Ben with a small, nervous expression and wide eyes. “She’s still coming with us, right?”

“Yes,” Ben pointed at the door. “Hall.”

She was moving behind him. Ben could hear the scrape of the bench and the slight pick up of Her heart that meant she was standing up, and when he turned she was glaring up at him, pressed between his body and the table.

“Move, Benjamin.”

He scowled at Her, but couldn’t find a reason to even justify to himself keeping her hidden—The Kid wouldn’t hurt her, and moving himself over her had been more instinct than anything—and stepped to the side.

Ben was certain the Kid was going to like Her. She was perfect, everyone should like her, and people who didn’t were shit-headed dumb fucks. The Kid wasn’t a shit-headed dumb fuck. He was a fucking nerd, and talked all polite, but so did She. The Kid would like Her, and it didn’t really fucking matter if he didn’t because nothing was riding on this. Ben alone loved her enough to power the Eastern Seaboard, one random child not understanding how fucking amazing She was wouldn’t do any harm to anything. But Ben still felt something taut in his throat and around his lungs. It mattered to Her. Ben could feel Her hand warming up on his arm—starting to sear and smoke against his skin—and this felt like it mattered. She’d given her whole fucking life for the Kid, and Ben seemed to have somehow found himself important to the Kid’s life, and this might matter.

They were just fucking staring at each other. Everyone else was staring at them—even Mallory had dropped any protests—and this did matter. These two people needed to like each other. She needed to walk away from this with clear eyes and an easy smile, and the Kid needed to understand that She’d scarified to make him safe and—if Ben knew her, which he fucking did, better than anyone—would probably do it again. Then they’d both stop apologizing for their fucking existence, and whatever was choking Ben and tightening his fists would die a sad, withering death. If they didn’t start fucking moving, Ben was going to pick Her up and carry her over-

“Hi,” Her voice wasn’t a whisper, but it was quiet, gentle, unsteady. That was Her for once I don’t know what to say voice. “It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Ryan, I’m-“

She’d barely said her own name before the Kid was running across the room, slamming her into a tight hug. She froze, face slightly panicked—everyone in the room tensing but not launching forward to pull them apart—but when she looked down at the Kid it shifted. Became almost disbelieving, mouth parting into a small smile, eyes growing soft. 

Whatever she was feeling from the Kid, whatever was making her so relaxed, was good. She hugged the Kid back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and holding tight, and she squeezed the Kid once in a way that Ben knew meant reassurance. The Kid liked Her—Ben had fucking known it, and now he’d get to rub that in her perfect face later—and she looked like she might cry. If she did start crying, Ben was going to have to push the rest of the team out of the dining hall so she could do it in peace. He wasn’t even sure why they were still fucking here, this was for Her and the Kid.

Butcher coughed, and Ben was going to rip out his throat. “Ryan, try not to crush the lady. She ain’t made of steel.”

“I’m fine,” She mumbled, shooting Butcher a glare over her shoulder. “And I’d live if he did.”

The Kid pulled back, looking up at Her with an admiration that Ben understood. She was admirable, she was fucking amazing.

“I, I won’t hurt you?”

“You can’t,” She shrugged, not peeling herself from the hug. “I have a regenerative healing factor.” She looked up, frowning at the group. “Did nobody tell you that?”

“They did!” The Kid shook his head, still watching Her. “But you’re not invulnerable-“

“No, but I’d live.”

The Kid nodded slowly. “Do you still feel pain?”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I do. But you can’t control your strength, and I’d be okay.” She gave the Kid a smile, easy and content and real, and Ben fucking loved Her. She was so fucking kind and good. “It’s really nice to meet you, Ryan. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Me too,” the Kid was smiling back, because when She smiled you’d have to be fucking insane not to smile back. “I mean, I’ve also heard about you.”

“We all have,” Butcher grumbled, still watching Her and the Kid with careful eyes. “Soldier Boy wouldn’t shut his fuckin’ cake-hole-”

“Butcher,” MM sighed. “Don’t be a bitter motherfucker and ruin the nice moment.” 

Butcher rolled his eyes, but shut his mouth. Smart move, because Ben was about to rip out his fucking tongue.

“What,” the Kid looked nervous, and Ben was starting to worry he might crush Her. “What have you heard about me?”

She huffed a small laugh. “A lot. Butcher over there’s a fucking hypocrite, because the first three months I knew him it was just Ryan’s a good kid. Smart kid. Bloody good kid.”

Ben had to cough to cover a snort, and Butcher scowled.

“That ain’t my fuckin’ voice-“

The Kid leaned around Her. “Did you really call me a good kid?”

Butcher shot Her a glare, and she returned it with a sickly sweet smile. “Yes.”

The Kid pulled away from Her, and walked over to give Butcher a hug. An awkward, tight hug that made Butcher freeze before returning it. “Thank you.”

“You’re like your mother, Ryan.” Butcher grunted. “Course you’re a good kid.”

She was smiling at them, and Ben fucking loved Her. He had to turn the words into walking back to her side and slinging his arm over her shoulder, kissing the top of her head and grinning at her when she smiled up at him. Fucking perfect. The whole world was better when she was here, because the Kid had been with them for months and Ben hadn’t actually seen him and Butcher hug. But she made everything good, because she was a goddamn miracle worker. She was a miracle herself, and Ben fucking loved Her.

“You got some trainin’ to do with Soldier Boy, Ryan.” Butcher was giving the Kid tense pat on the back, but not trying to pull back. “Better get started.”

“William-“

“Stuff it, Grace. It ain’t like they’re all gonna fuckin vanish, like I said we live here. Just go knock on the horny cunt’s doors later.” 

“It’s okay,” the Kid pulled back, frowning. “I can wait if you have work to do-“

“We don’t,” Ben snapped, glaring at Mallory in a silent challenge, pulling Her closer into his side. “We’re fucking done with this shit, let’s go.”

The Kid looked at Butcher, who nodded, then Her. “Are you coming with us?”

“For a little bit, sure,” She glanced at Ben, and he gave a tight nod. Of course She was fucking coming with them, if it was up to Ben she’d go everywhere with him. “I might have to leave early, to help Annie with some stuff, but I can sit in on the start.”

Annie shrugged. “We won’t need you for the, uh,” she glanced at the Kid. “Thing. But if you want-“

“No, I need to be there. It needs to all be accurate, Sage will exploit any fallacies. Just text-“ She cut herself off with a sigh. “Ben, I guess. And I’ll head back here.”

“We’ll get you a new phone,” Hughie said Her name, giving her a reassuring smile. “They’re not that expensive, and you need one. I can work on that.”

Butcher frowned. “You worry about the V, Lad. Frenchie-“

“I will take care of it, petite Hughie. I can even find a discount from my suppliers.”

She blinked at the French Prick. “Frenchie, please don’t get me a crime phone.” 

The French Prick shrugged. “Beggars cannot be choosers-“ Kimiko whacked his arm and signed something that made the French Prick sigh. “Fine. I will not get a crime phone.”

“Thank you.” She glanced around the group, then up at Ben. “Ready?”

Ben nodded, looking at the Kid. “Let’s fucking move, Buddy.”

The Kid started to walk over to them, and Ben felt Her elbow his side. When he frowned down at Her, she was grinning.

Buddy?

Ben rolled his eyes. What the fuck is wrong with calling him buddy.

Call him his name, Benjamin.

Why.

Because you shouldn’t call real people buddy. I call bad drivers buddy. I call my brother buddy. 

Your brother is a real fucking person.

She shrugged. But I also call him by his name. Buddy is what I say when I’m doing an impression of a 1920s Chicago mobsters, not talking to someone.

Ben scoffed. Well your impressions are fucking terrible.

I’m sorry you can’t appreciate my talent, Pretty Boy. 

I can appreciate a lot of shit about you, Sunshine. Ben winked at Her. And you’ve got a fuck ton of talent. Your impressions are still horrible. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. Rude.

Yep. Ben kissed the top of Her head, turning as Ryan stopped in front of them, looking him up and down. “You think you can move in jeans?”

He frowned. “Yes?”

“Then let’s get a fucking move on.”

They gave a few nods to the team before leaving—Mallory still looking like a sour bitch—and Ryan led the way to the gym. This place was a lot fucking bigger than Ben had thought, but exploring hadn’t really been high on his priority list. Later—if the amazed expression on Her face as they walked through the halls was any clue—She’d probably pull them around to see every damn inch of this place, and Ben would gladly follow her. As long as She kept looking so fucking relaxed like she did now, a step ahead of Ben, walking at Ryan’s side.

“Do you like biology?” Ryan had been asking Her question after question, She’d been answering them all in the same genuine, serious tone—no matter how fucking stupid they were—and Ben had been watching, biting his tongue until he drew blood so he didn’t accidentally yell that he loved Her.

“I think it’s interesting,” She shrugged. “But I’m not great at science. I’m passible at it, but it’s never been something I excel at.”

Ben rolled his eyes at nothing, because she was fucking good at science. Her benchmark of passible was just way too damn high, because she was genius.

“You can do biology manipulation, right?” Ryan’s voice was almost goddamn bouncy. “That’s one of your powers?”

“I’m not sure,” Ben could hear the thoughtful frown on Her face. “It’s a working theory, but I’ve never really had my powers fully assessed. I didn’t even really know how to use them properly until a few months ago.”

Ben tried not to be too fucking proud of that. How She gave him a small smile over her shoulder at the words, how she was better at talking about and using her powers because of Ben. He’d done that for her. He’d made Her happy and comfortable, and now that was permanent.

Ryan followed Her gaze at Ben. “Did Soldier Boy teach you too?”

“Teach me as well-“ She stopped in her tracks, and Ben nearly slammed into her back.

“Goddamnit-“ Ben started to grunt out Her name, but she whipped around with a glare at Ben that told him he was in trouble. He hadn’t even fucking done anything-

“Why is he calling you Soldier Boy?”

Ben swallowed, glancing at a wide-eyed Ryan. “I don’t fucking know-“

“Don’t get mad at him, it’s what everyone calls him-“

She raised a hand, and Ryan cut himself off, giving Ben a nervous look.

“Benjamin.” Her eyes were narrowed at him, her voice smooth and firm, and fuck She was hot. Ben probably shouldn’t want to pick her up and fuck her against the wall as much as he did right now, but Christ she was so perfect, even when she looked like she was going to kill him. What did you promise me.

He frowned. I have been fucking nice to him. A name isn’t a big deal.

Yes, it is. She glanced at Ryan, then back at Ben. He doesn’t really have anyone, Ben. He has you and Butcher. Soldier Boy isn’t you, it’s the guy who tried to kill him.

He’s forgiven me for that, Sunshine. And what the hell else is he supposed to call me, because he’s sure as shit not using grandpa.

She gave him a small smile. He could call you your name?

Ben scowled. Smartass.

She’s won, and she knows it, because Her smile grows into a wide grin. Thank you.

Shut the fuck up. Ben turned back to Ryan, who was looking between them with wide eyes. “Fine.”

“Um-“

“You can call me Ben, kid. That’s it.”

Ryan nodded slowly, his facing turning a little brighter as he looked up at Her with nervous smile that she returned—less nervous, more encouraging—and Ben was going to fucking lose his mind.

When they arrived at the gym—a full fucking gym, Ben was going to yell at Butcher and Hughie later about a pamphlet or fucking something to tell people how big this place was—Ryan led them over to a large mat, and She grabbed Ben’s phone from his pocket and dropped near the wall with her legs crossed.

“Are you not,” Ryan glanced between them. “Are you not training with us?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “My powers are a little, um, different. My training is different.”

“But you said-“

“I did train her,” Ben grunted, walking over to Her to hand her the rest of the shit in his pockets. “It’s not the same as what we’re going to do.”

She leaned around Ben’s legs as she talked to Ryan. “I’m not strong like you and Ben. When I punch someone it’s really not that effective.”

“Fuck ton more effective than when we started,” Ben muttered, and she stuck Her tongue out at him.

“It’s your fire, right?” Ryan asked, and Ben could hear him shifting on his feet. “That you use to fight?”

She nodded, tilting her head. “What do you know about my powers?”

“Um, fire?” Ryan mumbled. “You said you can heal, like Kimiko. Right?”

“Kind of like Kimiko,” She hummed. “But Kimiko still ages. I don’t.”

“Why?”

“Ben and I,” She patted Ben’s leg, leaning forward to hang off his body, and Ben had to remind himself job. Job to do. Kid in the room and job to do. “Have the same V. Old V, more unstable, makes you immortal. That’s why he’s an ancient grumpy fuck that looks like that.”

“That?” Ben scowled at Her. “What the fuck is that?”

She grinned at him. “A Pretty Boy.” 

He rolled his eyes. Brat.

Ryan coughed, and Her gaze returned to behind Ben. “You have that V because of my dad, right?”

His voice was so fucking sad. Weak and sad and nervous, and Ben didn’t know how to handle it.

She did. She was fucking perfect, so she did. She was watching Ryan carefully, words gentle. Honest and clear, but gentle. “Yes. I do. But don’t blame yourself. Homelander did it, not you,”

“But he’s my dad-“

“But you didn’t do anything.” She squeezed Ben’s leg, and his hand dropped to run through her hair. Let her handle this, never let her think she’s alone. “You aren’t responsible for his actions.”

“I’m still sorry-“

“It’s not your fault, Ryan.” Her voice was gentle, even as her nails dug into Ben’s calf. “None of this is your fault. Homelander deserves the blame, don’t take it for him.”

Ryan made a small sound, and Ben glanced back to see him looking at his feet. “I still feel bad.”

“I know,” She was smiling that soft, sad smile that meant she was being kind and forgiving and good. “Trust me, I know. But it’s not your fault.”

Ben gently tugged on Her hair, just enough for her attention to turn up to him.

What?

You should take your own fucking advice, Sunshine.

She wrinkled Her nose at him. Fuck you.

Ben grinned, and didn’t even bother to tell Her I would like to. As soon as you say the word, before it’s even out of your pretty fucking mouth, I’m carrying you home and fucking you until you scream. I’m going to fucking worship you, beautiful. Fucking ruin you. You’re going to beg and whine and moan and cum, and I’m going to fuck you until you’re dizzy. You’re going to smile at me, and I’m going to fucking cum from it, and we’re not going to leave the bed for a hundred years. I love you, and you’re going to goddamn get that when I fuck you the way you deserve. All he did—right now, when she wasn’t ready and didn’t know he loved her, when Ryan was still in the room with them—was lean over and pull her up to Her knees and kiss her, sloppy and deep. Going until she made a small sound only Ben could hear, and he drew back up to his full height.

She stared at Ben with a slack expression, and even Her glare of Cunt sounded breathless.

Ben winked. Brat. And turned back to Ryan, walking to meet him on the mat. “Let's get started, Kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

Ryan was fucking strong. It barely took ten minutes for Ben to understand that Ryan was strong. Not quite as strong as Homelander or Ben himself, but with a little practice, he could be. Fuck, with maybe five years of solid, consistent work Ryan would fly past both of them. They started by just trying to find the limit, but ran out of weights and started adding equipment from around the gym. Eventually, at about 85 tons, Ryan looked a little nervous and they moved on. He had to control it, and Ben was sure not to pussyfoot around the fact that Ryan’s strength was dangerous, real dangerous, but controllable.

“Do you think I’ll be able to?” Ryan was fidgeting with his hands, looking nervously between Her and Ben. “I’m not sure-“

“You will.” Ben snapped. “That’s what my fucking job is. You do yours and listen- Fuck!”

She’d thrown a plastic bottle at his head. Ben didn’t even fucking know where She’d gotten a plastic bottle, but while he and Ryan had been testing Ryan’s limit she’d wandered the gym, and Ben wouldn’t put it past certain fucking members of their team not to clean up after themselves.

“It’ll take time,” She didn’t even look at Ben as he glared at her, flipping him off behind Her back where Ryan couldn’t see. “But you will, Ryan. You’ll get there.”

Ben scowled. “That’s exactly what I said-“ 

“I was being encouraging.” She wrinkled her nose at him “You were being a grump.”

Ben just scoffed, and returned his attention to Ryan as she sat back against the wall, fingers tapping on the back of Ben’s phone. It was only a half hour later the screen lit up with a buzz, and She was called away. Ryan gave Her another tight hug, and Ben kissed the space between her eyes, muttering against her skin.

“You don’t fucking have to go. Annie knows everything.”

She sighed. “I do, Ben. This has to be done right. I’ll be okay.”

Ben didn’t believe Her. She didn’t believe her. Her hands were curled against his chest, and her heart was unsteady and stumbling, and Ben knew she was nervous. “Just stay the hell here-“

“No,” She pulled back, reaching up to give Ben one last, light kiss. “I’ll see you tonight, Pretty Boy. Play nice.”

He wanted to tug Her back. There was something hollow forming in her eyes when she pulled away from him, and Ben wanted to just yell I love you. I know you’re going to do this no matter what I tell you, because you never fucking listen go me, so just do it knowing I love you.

But she was gone, and Ben was left alone with Ryan, starting to feel fucking sick. Love was making him a desperate, whining pussy who felt nauseous when She was gone. And he still didn’t fucking care.

“I forgot to say thank you,” Ryan mumbled, and Ben frowned at him. “I meant to tell her thank you for getting me out-“

“She knows,” Ben grunted. “Trust me, she fucking knows.” 

“Do you think she liked me?”

Ben snorted. “Yes. And she’s not fucking gone, she’s still on this same damn floor.” Those words were more for him. Ben trying to convince himself that she was barely a three minute walk away. That he was feeling worse and worse by the second, that something was sitting like a weight on his chest the longer she was gone, but if he was really that fucking pathetic without Her he could just go find her. She wasn’t gone, and she was fine.

They kept training. Ben tested Ryan’s grip strength, trying to see what could and couldn’t be crushed by accident in a hand, and made a note to tell MM they needed metal cups. Kimiko and Annie would sure as fuck appreciate it as well, and it would be a good placeholder until Ryan was better at controlling himself. From there Ben dragged out some mock targets—boxing bags that he drew large X’s on—and they worked on heat vision. Using it at will, trying not make the bags just immediately fucking explode.

And Ben still felt fucking sick. It was still getting worse and worse as the afternoon crept on, until suddenly it was gone. Fully vanished into thin air around dinner time, right when he and Ryan were wrapping up.

“Solid work, kid.” Ben muttered, giving up almost immediately on trying to rearrange and clean up the gym. MM would have a grand fucking time doing it himself later, and Ben didn’t have any interest in being told he’d done it wrong. “Here, next week, same time.”

“Thanks,” Ryan mumbled, and Ben nodded, picking his phone up off the floor. “Ben?”

He grunted, frowning up at Ryan’s nervous expression and waiting for him to continue.

“Are you going to dinner?”

“Maybe.” Ben sighed. “We’ve got some shit to deal with, but we’ll try.”

“We?” Ryan said Her name, watching Ben carefully. “Um, she’ll be there too?”

“As well,” Ben muttered, smiling to himself. “And if I’m there, yeah. She will be.”

Ryan nodded, and didn’t push further. They walked in silence back to the dining hall—which was fucking empty—and continued until they reached Butcher’s apartment. Ben knocked, loud in case Butcher tried to fucking ignore it, and the door opened almost immediately. 

“Oi, Gov, ain’t not reason to fuckin break it.”

Ben scowled. “Looks fine to me. We’re done.”

Butcher turned to Ryan. “Good session? Worth bloody houndin me about?”

Ryan nodded, eager and sincere, and Ben felt something warm and prideful flare in his chest. “I hit the target.”

“The target.” Butcher repeated, glancing at Ben. “What target.” 

“We worked on his laser eyes,” Ben grunted. “Can’t have him exploding the fucking building.”

“And I hit the target.” Ryan’s chest was puffed out, and Ben sighed.

“And he hit the damn target.”

“Well then, bloody good work, lad. Let’s get you in a fuckin shower, you smell like ass.” Butcher gesture for Ryan to enter the apartment, but Ryan turned to Ben and pulled him into a fucking hug.

“Thank you, Ben.”

Ben didn’t know what to do. The kid was squeezing his torso, and thanking him, and he was frozen, staring at Butcher. Butcher didn’t seem to know what the fuck to do either, but his glower at Ben a little too shocked for Ben to just push Ryan away. He didn’t want to push Ryan away, it felt fucking wrong to push Ryan away. Her words echoed in Ben’s head—he doesn’t really have anyone, Ben. He has you and Butcher—and Ben hugged Ryan back. It was tense, awkward, and weird, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. He just hugged Ben tighter before stepping back and disappearing into the apartment. Leaving Ben and Butcher staring at each other in the doorway, Butcher’s face looking as confused as Ben fucking felt. 

Butcher spoke first.

“Don’t fuck this up,” his glare on Ben wasn’t hateful, it was weary. “That kid don’t got much. Don’t give him hope then fuckin turn away.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. I know what the hell I’m doing.”

Butcher didn’t waver. “I guess we’ll bloody see if you do. But know that if you drop the fuckin grandpa ball-”

“Call me grandpa again and I’ll fucking twist you like a pretzel and shove your dick in your mouth.”

“I ain’t joking-”

“I won’t fuck him up.” Ben grunted Her name. “She’d kick my damn ass if I did.”

Butcher sighed. “You seen her?” 

Something tugged at Ben’s heart. “No. Why, what’s fucking wrong-“ 

“It’s been a real rough fuckin afternoon, Gov.” Butcher shook his head. “You should go find your woman.”

“Is she-“

“She’s okay. The media is full of cunts, and she’s on the blunt end of it now.” Butcher looked Ben up and down, face twisting into something tired and tight. “I’d just fuckin go. She might well need you.”

Ben didn’t bother with goodbyes, or even wait for the door to fully fucking close before he was tearing down the hall to their apartment. Butcher said she was okay, but everyone kept fucking telling Ben she was okay when she clearly fucking wasn’t. He seemed to be the only pussy in the whole goddamn world who had eyes, who was capable of hearing her say I’m okay and noticing how her smile wasn’t full and her eyes were too fucking empty for it to be true. Nobody seemed fucking worried about Her but Ben. Seemed to even think that maybe the was just a slim goddamn chance that after being kidnapped—fucking again—She wasn’t okay.

He pulled out his phone as he all but ran. The media was full of cunts, full of worthless fucking pussies whose jobs were make everyone’s life fucking hell. Full of idiots saying Annie was a liar, or speculating about Her life. Her real life. Her job and original address. If she’d asked Homelander to make her a supe, gone to that Vought party to stalk him. Why she’d left Her mother’s house so young, if it was really a coincidence that her step-father was a public figure, or if this had been engineered. Everyone had fucking something to say, and all of it was dogshit. Ben was mentioned. For the first time since this started, he could find articles where their names were the main headline. Saying Starlight claims that Soldier Boy and Anomaly are close, but what does that mean? and calling her a whore. A fucking gold-digger or power-chaser, saying she was jumping between powerful, older supes to get her what she wanted. Sinking her claws into Ben—just like she’d done with Homelander—and she was going to leave him the moment she was tired of him.

She was in the hall. Ben had the keycard, she couldn’t have gotten in herself, and she had tucked Herself against the wall outside their door. Staring at nothing, and from Her side-profile, her expression was slack. When Ben dropped to Her side, she didn’t flinch or start or even fucking look at him. He grunted her name, and She just hummed. He said it again, voice low and scraping his throat, and moved in front of Her body. She was flushed, and her eyes were hazy. He wasn’t even fucking sure she could see him for a second, but then her face lit up. It didn’t clear or focus, but a loose, happy smile crossed her face, and hands shot up to grab Ben’s face between Her hands.

“Ben,” She was trying to whisper, but doing a piss-poor job of it, pulling Ben’s face closer to hers. “You’re here. Wait,” She frowned, eyes narrowing at him as one hand started poking his nose. “Say something Ben would say.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about.” 

Her smile was back. Bigger this time, and she started falling forwards. Ben’s arms moved to catch Her, slumping against him, and she giggled. “You’re Ben. Ben frowns like that,” She traced a finger over his mouth, following the downward turn of his lip. “And he always catches me. And I can feel you.”

“Of course you can feel me,” he grunted Her name. “I’m fucking touching you. What’s-“

“No,” She shook her head, pushing herself up and half crawling up Ben’s body. “No, no. You don’t get it you handsome dumb dumb. I feel you here.” She jabbed a finger at Ben’s chest. “And it’s you. It’s big and strong and loud, and it’s very Benjamin.” 

She looked back up at him, he studied Her face. Relaxed, completely relaxed, parted lips and glossy eyes, words falling out of Her mouth without thought. Her heart was slow, but her face was flushed and her breath was short. 

He said Her name slowly, holding her face so her eyes stayed on his. “Are you fucking drunk?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Christ on a cross, woman.” Ben sighed, tucked stray hair away from Her face, dropping an arm under her thighs and hauling her up his body, standing cautiously. “How the fuck do you even get drunk.”

Her hands grabbed Ben’s face, pulling it to barely an inch from Hers. “Frenchie,” she whispered, staring at Ben with wide, serious eyes. “Is a fucking god. And very bad at hiding his experiments in the kitchen.” 

Ben sighed, carefully prying her hands away so he could open the door. “What happened, Sunshine.”

“Nothing,” Her lips dropped into a pout. “Ben?”

He grunted, and She buried her head in his neck.

“Why do you like me?”

He paused in his tracks, frowning down at Her. “What.”

“Why do you like me?” She mumbled. “I’m the worst.”

“You’re being insane,” he mutters, adjusting his grip so one arm was under Her knees, the other holding her back. “You’re drunk, and tired, and talking fucking nonsense. We’re going to bed.”

“Ben,” Her voice was almost a whine. “I’m not being insane. I don’t have friends, why would you be my friend.” 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be your friend.”

“Because I’m annoying.” She whispered, hands tightening around his neck. “And mean. And a whore.” 

“You’re not a whore.” Ben pushed the door to their room open. “I’m a whore. You’re perfect.”

She wasn’t letting Ben lower her onto the mattress. “I’m not perfect. I’m a liar-“

“You’re not a liar.” Ben made his voice, firm, a little louder than he’d normally be with Her, but she needed to hear. “You just told the world the truth. That’s the opposite of lying, Sunshine. And you are fucking perfect. You’re a genius, and funny as shit, and kind, and powerful, and beautiful-“

She snorted. “I’m not beautiful.”

Ben scowled. “Yes you are. Shut the fuck up and let me talk-“

“No,” She squirmed out of his arms, falling on Her back onto the bed, head hanging off the side, reaching to Ben until he knelt at her side. “You’re beautiful, Ben.” She sighed, rolling onto Her stomach. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ben stood up, dropping at her side on the bed and watching Her scramble into his lap. “You call me Pretty Boy every fucking day.”

She shook Her head, falling onto his chest and placing one hand on each side of his head. “You’re beautiful, Ben. You don’t get it, it’s not normal.” She was staring at him with something burning and desperate in her eyes. “Nobody should get to have your face and be you. It’s mean to me.”

He watched Her carefully. “How the hell is that mean to you.”

“Because,” She was glaring at him. “You don’t get it.”

“Then fucking tell me-“

She’d shifted up onto her knees, guiding Ben’s brow to Hers, eyes burning into his body. “You’re so beautiful,” She whispered, shaking her head. “It’s not fair.” Her eyes were drooping, words growing more and more slurred as she fell further into Ben’s body. “Not fair.”

“None of this is fair,” he sighed Her name, cradling her head against him. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t have a fucking clue what to do to make this better for Her, and all he could do was stay. “But you’ve got me. And I’ve got you.” 

She made a small sound that might be a sob, or a moan, or a plea. Her words were barely a breath. “Please stay.” 

Ben leaned up to kiss her forehead, before pulling back to watch her eyes flutter, almost closed. “I’ll always fucking stay. You burn, I burn, Sunshine. That’s fucking that.”

“That’s that,” she whispered, a small, blissful smile crossing her face. She said something else, but Ben didn’t understand it. It was a noise from Her throat that sounded like words, but Ben didn’t have the foggiest fucking idea what words they could be. Then She was burying herself back into his neck, breathing growing steady, and something started to wash over him. That feeling, the one he’d felt a few times before that wasn’t wrong but fucking strange. It was so big, covering the whole world and circling around his head. Climbing into his every thought until everything was just this illuminated, boundless, earth-shattering feeling. 

It was everywhere. When he looked around the room, trying to figure out if there was some sort of fucking gas leak or if this was an odd, weird dream, everything was washed with it. His shield at the door, the sheets on their bed, their reflections on the dresser mirror and the deep green, fluffy carpet on the floor. The whole word was fueling the feeling until it was sweeping through Ben’s body, making his blood hot and his head light. This was holy and ancient and fucking everything. This was wider than the ocean, and brighter than the goddamn sun. It was some sort of song that called Ben like a siren, morphing his body into something beautiful. It was peaceful and electric and thirsty and safe, and Ben wanted it to go and go forever. He wanted to create it and then devour it, let it care for him and make everything better. It was natural, it felt like something inevitable and fucking sacred. It made him feel stronger. It made his whole body along with something deeper, further down and intangible, fucking eternal and unstoppable. He could fucking destroy and rebuild the universe without faltering, because this would be with him the whole way.

She sighed against Ben’s neck, and the feeling was gone. Dissipated into thin air, slipping between Ben’s fingers before he could figure out what the fuck it even was. He wanted it back. She was fast asleep against him, heartbeat in perfect time with Ben’s, and he wanted that back. It had been some sort of fucking drug, making him high in a way he’d never felt before. He needed it back now, he needed to feel that for the rest of his fucking life, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t even know what it was, where it had come from, let alone how to get it back in him, around him, through him.

She made a soft sound against Ben’s skin, and he couldn’t stop himself looking down at Her and smiling. She was so fucking beautiful. It didn’t matter what the hell she’d said in her odd, drunken state, She was the most beautiful thing Ben had ever fucking seen. She was the fucking night sky in the wild, when it was more stars than actual darkness, and everything was washed the millions of colors of northern lights. Nothing could ever trap Her, not really, because she wasn’t something that could be trapped. Ben could watch Her, though. He could stay near her, and let her keep being beautiful while he destroyed anything that tried to mar that. She could handle herself, Ben knew she could handle herself, but fuck he wanted to help Her. He wanted to hold her like this every time something in Her broke, and keep calling her beautiful and perfect and good until she stopped fucking fighting with him about it.

Ben loved Her. He still couldn’t tell her he loved her, because this wasn’t at fucking all about him. But he could hold Her like this. He could carefully, steadily pull off her clothing and replace it with his own shirt, keeping his eyes trained only where they needed to be. He could pull them both—still pressed together—up to the top of the bed and under the covers, run fingers through Her hair and savor in the feeling of her body clinging to his. Ben could drift in and out of sleep and watch over Her. Take care of Her in this one way that she allowed him to. Love her and whisper it into the dark, where she couldn’t hear. 

He kept eye on his phone on the bed beside him, and dawn was barely breaking when it buzzed, the screen glowing in the low light of their bedroom. 

Hughie Campbell; Cocksucker, don’t be a cunt, 2 messages.

Ben sighed. He really needed to change those damn contact names, he knew who fucking Hughie was. He’d ask Her to, because the only reason they’d stuck for so long was because She’d put them there, and Ben had no interest in changing them if she didn’t write out the new ones.

He swiped open the display, angling the light away from her closed eyes and reading Hughie’s texts.

Hughie Campbell; Cocksucker, don’t be a cunt

We’re having a meeting in the dining hall in twenty minutes.

I think you’ll want to be there. 

Ben frowned at the words. Hughie never told him there was a meeting. It was always Butcher or Mallory, sometimes MM or Annie, and they’d once sent Kimiko and the French prick right after he’d lost Her, when he rarely looked at his phone except to see Her perfect face in photos. 

He peeled Her off his body in careful, slow, and measured movements to make sure she stayed asleep. Resting Her head off his arm and on a pillow, pulling his legs away from hers and replacing them with blankets. Adding an extra comforter from their closet, because Ben was heavier than a blanket and she seemed to sleep easier when his weight was on top of Her.

It was difficult to get changed and ready for whatever fucking meeting Hughie had been telling him about without waking Her. Clothes off then on one at a time, not bothering to go to the bathroom because he’d have to flush the toilet, and brushing his teeth with one eye on the door for any movement. She shifted mid-spit, and Ben went rigid. He had to wait for Her to settle before walking out, looked at Her beautiful, neutral face one last time, and whispered into the silent room, “I fucking love you, Sunshine. Sleep.”

She made a small hum, but her heart didn’t flutter and breathing did break rhythm, so Ben knew she hadn’t heard him. He left the apartment in silent steps, and the moment the door was cautiously closed behind him he stalked to the dining hall. Everyone was already there, except Mallory, A-Train, Ryan, Ben, and Her. Huddled around the table, speaking in low, tense voices, turning to see Ben push through the doors with wide, surprised expressions. 

“Soldier Boy,” MM frowned at him. “You’re… up early.”

Ben scowled, looking around at their nervous, fucking guilty expressions. “Hughie said there was a meeting.”

A chorus of groans and sighs echoed through the room, and any pretense of silence was apparently thrown out the fucking window as everyone glared at a red-faced Hughie.

“Bloody fuckin hell, lad,” Butcher whacked Hughie upside the head. “You ain’t able to keep your mouth shut about this for one morning?”

Hughie rubbed the back of his neck, frantic words paired with gestures at Ben. “He should know! And he’ll help-“

“Kid,” MM shook his head. “We all fucking agreed he couldn’t be a part of this. He’s biased-“

“I am not fucking biased,” Ben snapped, voice loud enough to silence all the various protests and pussy fucking arguments. “And someone better tell me what’s going on, before I start chopping dicks of and shoving them down throats-“

Hughie said Her name, flinching as everyone’s glares grew sharper. “It’s about her. We’re, um, worried.”

Ben was worried as well. But he didn’t fucking trust that his worry, which was about how She was perfect and beautiful and needed fucking rest, matched their worry.

“Why.”

“As you know,” Annie sighed. “She passed the psych test. But she was really quiet last night,” Annie whispered. “She didn’t talk unless we asked her a question. And it wasn’t getting better, when we wrapped up.“

Ben studied their faces, and it was all concern. Granted, Butcher’s concern made it look like the emotion was physically fucking painful to him, but it was still worry. For Her. Just Her, not how she could help them or if she was a liability. He trusted them. Somehow, at least for this, Ben trusted that they at least fucking meant well for Her. And he could acknowledge that he was a little fucking biased. A lot fucking biased. He loved Her, and she was more important than the whole goddamn world, so he was a lot biased. 

“She got drunk,” Ben muttered, stalking across the dining hall to stand at their table. “Last night, I found her outside our apartment. Fucking hammered.” 

Butcher frowned. “She ain’t able to get drunk-“

“She said he,” Ben glared at the French Prick. “Hides his experiments in the kitchen. Fucking horribly.”

The French Prick’s mouth fell open. “Merde. That would, ah, that would be the V.”

Hughie blinked. “We have V in the kitchen?”

“No,” the French Prick ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I have been attempting to recreate V in the kitchen. But it has been trial and error, and I did not think it would, ah, have narcotic effects. It should not have narcotic, I must have made an error-”

“Frenchie,” MM grunted. “I want that shit out of my kitchen by this afternoon.” 

“Just the V, or would you like everything else gone with it?”

“The fuck you mean everything-“

“MM,” Butcher grunted. “Bigger fish, mate. Frenchie, take care of it, before MM’s fuckin head flies off his body. Soldier Boy,” Butcher turned to Ben, saying Her name with a frown. “Is she alright? Frenchie ain’t killed her on accident?”

Ben gave a tight nod. “She’s sleeping it off.”

“What do you think we should do?” Hughie was looking at Ben with sad fucking eyes. “I mean, she can’t go in public right now, but we also-“ 

“Can’t fucking bench her,” Ben finished for Hughie with a sigh, because they couldn’t. She’d climb the fucking walls and yell at them until they let her do something. “She can work on the V. Help us go through the records. That’s it.”

He’d have to ask Her. Later—even though everyone else seemed willing not to tell her about this—Ben was going to ask her what she wanted. It was a lot fucking easier for them to keep secrets from Her. They didn’t fucking love Her.

Annie frowned at him. “Do you think she’ll be okay with that? I mean, she might try to do something else-“

“She will try to do something else,” Ben snapped. She’d always try to do more, even when it killed her. “But she needs rest. So she can do whatever the fuck she wants, as long as it’s far away from Homelander and Sage. Got it?”

That wasn’t something he’d waver on. She could make all their plans and tell everyone what to do, and she could do it right here. At Ben’s side, where if She cried he could wipe away her tears, and if she fell down he could pick her back up. Everyone was nodding, mumbling agreements, and Ben stayed at the table as the group wandered off. The French Prick and Kimiko into the kitchen with MM glaring after them, Annie and Hughie to the hallway as Hughie whined about meaning well, and calling Ben having worked out, leaving Ben with MM and Butcher, silently watching each other.

“You’re going to tell her about this, aren’t you?” MM muttered, and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Of course I fucking am.” I love Her, you pussy. “And if you try and stop me I’ll rip out your asshole-“

“We ain’t gonna stop you, Gov.” Butcher grunted. “Just checkin.”

“Why.”

Butcher shrugged, giving Ben a look he didn’t understand. “No reason. Call it healthy fuckin curiosity.”

Ben scowled, but moved on. If Butcher wanted to be a weird, cryptic fucking dickhole, Ben wasn’t going to be the one that managed to force him to make fucking sense. “You dickhats seen the news?” 

“Yep.” MM sighed. “They’re saying some fucked up shit. You think it got to her?” 

“She was saying,” Ben paused, figuring out what he wanted to tell them. Not everything. Not how She’d called him beautiful, or passed out in his arms, or that strange fucking feeling. “Fucking weird shit. Things that only an insane fucking pussy would say.”

“Things Homelander would say?” 

Ben nodded at MM, something rolling in his stomach. “Things fucking Homelander would say.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Butcher frowned, hands tucking into his pockets as he stood. “She’s strong, but that shit was bloody hell. Right now it’s about the V, so let all fuckin lock in on that. Get Homelander well and bloody buried, twenty feet under. Agreed?”

Even as Ben grunted an agreement, sitting at the table and combing through more and more worthless fucking records with MM and Butcher—the French Prick and Kimiko filtering in and out—he didn’t fucking mean it. This was about Her, not Homelander. This didn’t get to be about Homelander. He didn’t get to fucking take Ben’s attention and energy from Her, along with how’d he’d taken her life and happiness and fucking peace. Ben was already here—sat in the dining hall with the papers in front of him—so he’d keep working at it, but the moment she called for him he’d be gone. Doing whatever she needed him to do. He fucking loved Her. This was about Her. For Ben, this had to be about Her. Nobody else would make it about Her—the real Her, not the speculation or lies or fucking Vought persona—so that was Ben’s most important fucking job. Love Her. Silently, piously love Her. Watch Her bounce around with Ryan and listen to her make plans and kiss her and nip at her until he was allowed to fuck her stupid. Never do anything that made Her feel annoying or the worst or like a burden. Just fucking love Her. Sit in her light and love Her. 

There were worse fates, Ben decided, than waiting for a perfect woman, sitting in Her light, and loving her forever. All Ben could really ask for now was to prove that he was worthy, really, truly goddamn worthy, of sitting in Her light forever.

——————

When you wake up, someone is banging on the downstairs door and Ben isn’t at your side. He was here. You’d gotten drunk, barely managed to keep the words Ben. Ben, I love you from falling out of your mouth, and he’d pick you up and carried you to bed. It wasn’t an exact memory, more of a clouded over flash of sitting in the hallway, alone. So alone. Everyone knows your name and they all have fucking opinions but you’re alone that turned into Ben. Ben’s here. He’s in front of you and real, and everything is warm now. Then you were on the stairs, then on the bed, then in Ben’s lap, then asleep. Not alone. Ben’s still here so you’ll never be alone. He’s so handsome and doesn’t know you love him, and this isn’t fair. You should be able to tell him you love him and it should be easy. Ben is so easy, so you should tell him you love him.

You hadn’t. You know you hadn’t because this part was clear in your memory. Not fair. This isn’t fair. Why you, why are you the one who has to be here and fix this. Why were you the one Homelander decided to take, why did it have to be you. You don’t want it to be someone else, you wouldn’t wish this for anyone, but it’s still so unfair. You didn’t do anything, you didn’t make this mess, but now you have to clean it up. It’s not fucking fair, but this isn’t about fair. Nothing’s fair, but Ben’s got you and you love him. He’s staying, you’ll burn together, and that’s that. You love him, and it’s not fair, but that’s that.

And then you’d fallen asleep. Deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep, that Ben had been here for. The bed smelled like him, and his Thing in your chest was just a little stronger than it had been yesterday. It was always strong—it was tattooed on a part of you that was far too carefully tended to and protected for it to fade—but when Ben was here it flared. Grew almost painful and loud. Like it was responding to his proximity, revitalized by the fact that Ben had been here. With you. You loved him, and he’d been here, so really nothing was that terrible.

The door bangs again, and you have to move. You were only wearing Ben’s shirt and underwear—it smelled like him, pine and salt and Ben—but whoever’s downstairs won’t let up, so you have to move. 

When the door slides open, Frenchie almost falls onto you with a shout of surprise and a hand flying forward you narrowly manage to dodge.

“Fuck, Frenchie!” You watch him with a frown, regaining steady footing and looking around the apartment with curious expression. “Are you-“

“It is lighter.” Frenchie looks back to you, looking you up and down. “The apartment feels much lighter.” 

You blink. “Lighter than what? What’s-” 

“The last time I was here, it was heavy. Full of Soldier Boy’s pain. It is now light.” 

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You sigh. It’s too early to decipher weird Frenchie sayings. “Can I ask why you’re here now?”

Frenchie nods eagerly, reaching into his pockets. “I come with gifts.” 

“Gifts?” 

“A phone,” he shoves a brand new, practically sparkling phone in your hand before returning to his pockets. “And your request, well and fulfilled.” 

He holds up a small, plastic baggie filled with white pills, and you swallow. “The suppressant?”

“Oui.” Frenchie passes it into your hands. “Take two a day. They will run on a thirteen hour cycle, and grow less effective as the hours pass. If you start to take them with more frequency, I will make more. And do not let anyone else take them. It would not be good.”

You narrow your eyes at the pills, glancing at Frenchie with a frown. “What would happen?” 

“Well, your empathy works as an extension of your limbic system beyond only your one self. It does not end with you, but connects beyond your body into others. Correct?” 

“Sure.” You don’t have a single fucking clue about the scientific aspects of your power outside of V goes in, something happens, but Frenchie’s talking fast and you’re tired. That sounds right, and as long as the pill works, you don’t really care. “So?” 

“This will destroy your limbic system. Bomb it entirely. For you, it will regenerate within the millisecond, fast enough that you will not even notice it was ever fully gone. Within the thirteen hours it will have returned to its previous capacity, and another pill will sever your connection to others emotions once more. Stop taking the pills, the empathy returns in a full force.” 

“And for others?” 

“Death.” Frenchie shrugged. “Immediate death. Their brains would likely leak out of their ears.” 

You grimace. “Gross.” 

“Oui, very much.” 

“So, I guess I just take one?” You look between the bag and Frenchie. “And that’s it?”

“They will not work immediately, Madame,” he says your name with a sigh, glaring at the pills like they’d disappointed him. “Your body will attempt to fight them off. If I have been correct, after one pill they will have more of an instant kick.”

You nod slowly. “Two a day?”

“I would do every twelve hours. Should the thirteen pass, you will be made to start from scratch once more.” 

“Okay,” you sigh. “Thanks, Frenchie. This really means a lot.” 

“Do not worry, I enjoyed making them. Let me know if you die.” 

You snort. “I’ll try not to, but sure.”

The door closes behind him, and you don’t bother to get any water to take the pill. Nothing happens—like Frenchie’d said—and now all you have to do is wait. For it to work, and for Ben to get back. You put the coffee on, hide the pills with the V, and take an inventory of what’s changed in your absence. The fridge is stocked better than you’d thought it would be, and all the dishes are clean. Most everything, actually, is clean and well maintained. You’ll have to tell Ben later that you were proud of him, because this was even more than you’d hoped for. You’re low on toothpaste, but toothpaste is cheap. There was a blanket and pillow still on the floor near the couch, and all that took to fix was carrying them upstairs into the hamper. Everything else was almost exactly as you’d left it.

Another reason to love Ben. He was a surprisingly good housekeeper.

I am not a fucking trophy wife, Sunshine.

You sigh into your empty bedroom, where everything still smells like him. Even when he’s probably just in the dining hall, he won’t stop haunting you, his voice rough and low in your ear. I didn’t call you a Trophy Wife, Benjamin. I called you a housekeeper. 

And? Those are the same goddamn thing-

No. Trophy wife implies wealth, and we technically live on welfare. And a housekeeper is a job. So if escorts don’t pan out, I can start a sexy male maid business.

I am not a fucking maid.

No, you’re a sexy maid. Big difference.

You can hear his chuckles, rolling somewhere near his Thing. You think I’m sexy? Think I’m fucking hot? 

Shut up.

I think you’re fucking hot. If you’d let me, I’d show you just how hot I think you are.

It’s not real Ben. It’s okay to indulge this, because it’s not real Ben, and he can’t feel all this love for him, swirling in with the thirst as something warm spreads through your body. How? 

There’s a pause, and then a grunt. You want me to tell you? 

Yes, please.

Silence again. I love you.

Ben, I told you-

I know what you fucking told me, his voice snaps your name. If you want to know what I’d do, I get to say I love you.

You sigh. You know him too well, love him too much, because even this phantom of Ben is a stubborn asshole. Fine. 

Good. I love you. I’d tell you that first, until you got it. Then I’d kneel at the side of the bed, and pull you right onto my face. You fit real well on my face, Sunshine, like you were fucking made for it. Then I’m going to prep you. I’m not fucking small, beautiful, and I’ve felt how damn tight you are. I’m going to have to tongue-fuck and finger you until I decide you’ll take me easy. If it takes a whole goddamn day, that’s a whole day you get to cum for. A whole day I make you feel fucking good. 

You almost fall over, because his voice is everywhere. Sitting around you and in your body, warm and deep and hungry. He sounds so fucking hungry, and he’s everywhere. Ben’s not even here but he’s everywhere. The whole room smells like him, and his voice is living somewhere in your skull, and every time you touch yourself—squeeze your breast or shove a finger into your cunt—it’s so easy to imagine it’s Ben.

If you get tired or need a break, you can suck my cock until you’re ready again. But once I get you in bed, we’re not leaving until I fuck you right. If you need to stop you’ll tell me, and I’ll take care of you, because I fucking love you, but if you’re just fucking sensitive we’re riding it out. We’re going until you’re ready, and once you are I’m fucking you until the bed breaks. Until you’re screaming so loud the suits downstairs hear you begging for me and saying my name.

Ben- 

Just like that. Over and over again until I’ve fucked you so good you can’t even speak. All you’ll be able to do is make those pretty moans and whines, and I’m going to fucking eat them. The first time it’s going to be fucking romantic, because I’m a gentleman and I love you, and we’re going to do goddamn boring ass missionary so I can watch your face when you cum on my cock and devour all your pretty fucking sounds.

You swallow, and give up on standing. This is your apartment, your bedroom, and you’re allowed to fall backwards onto your bed and imagine your… Ben telling you how he’d want to fuck you. You’re allowed to slide a hand into your underwear and up your shirt—Ben’s shirt—and indulge this. The first time? How, being speechless in just a fantasy does not bode well for when this is real. How else do you want to fuck me?

Every fucking way.

Can you be a little more fucking specific-

After we’re romantic, you’re getting on your stomach and I’m fucking you from behind until you can’t hold yourself up anymore. You’re going to fall forwards, and I’m going to have to hold your perfect fucking ass in the air until you cum again and I finish on your back.

That’s specific. That’s really specific. Is that it?

It’s a taunt, a bait for the phantom to keep going until you manage to cum in real life. He takes it, because he’s a figment of Ben and that idiot doesn’t know how to shut up. You love him so fucking much.

Of course that’s not fucking it, brat. I think I’ll let you ride me, see how long you can keep yourself upright before you need me to take over and fuck up into you. Then you’re going to sit in my lap and I’ll fuck you and finger you until you’re fucking putty in my arms. We’ll try to clean up, but I’ll fuck you in to shower as well. You’ll probably suck my dick after, and then I’ll bend you over the table downstairs when we try to get food. We’re defiantly fucking doing it against the wall, and if Butcher tries to cockblock me again we’re not stopping. He’ll just have to watch me fuck you until you try to bite me again. That was real fucking hot. I want to see if that’s just a wall thing, or if it’s just something you do whenever I throw you around.

You’re so close. He sounds like he’s talking right in your ear, and you hear every wet sound your fingers are making as you go faster. 

I’m going to throw you around, Sunshine. I’m going to get real fucking rough with you, because you like it. I know you fucking like it. And I love you, so every time I leave bruises on you I’ll kiss them away then fuck you slow to make up for it.

You can’t bruise me, Ben. It’ll heal.

Who gives a fuck. I’ll still fuck you until you’re scratching my back and bursting into flame then fuck you until you’re begging and dizzy. The, when this shit is over, we’re going to travel the whole goddamn world together until there’s not a corner of I haven’t fucked you in.

Even as you start to grind into your hand and your eyes start to flutter, you scoff. Romantic.

Only for you, beautiful. By the time I’m done with you, everyone will always be able to fucking smell me on you. Know how fucking good you are, how goddamn addictive and perfect you are, because I won’t be able to stop fucking cumming all over you. Fuck, I’ll never be done with you. The world will go to shit and I’ll just keep fucking you, Sunshine. I fucking love you. 

That’s enough. That’s all the right things to say, said in Ben’s deep, firm voice, and you let out a small whine that he can never know about when you cum. It’s silent for a second, Ben’s Thing is still humming a beat in your body that carries you back down, and you smile into the air. Pull out method guy, huh?

Condoms don’t fucking work on supe jizz, Sunshine. It’s like trying to block a bullet with a damn window. 

Did they not offer sex ed in the 1930s? Pull out method doesn’t work, Pretty Boy.

I don’t give a fuck. I’ll cum in you all I want, until you’re fucking full of me. And I’ve slept around my whole damn life, never knocked anyone up.

As far as you know. 

You can almost see his scowl. That’s not funny.

What, don’t like the idea of a bunch of tiny Benjamin’s, running around telling their stuffed animals to shove it up their fucking ballsacks? 

There’s a long pause, and when Ben speaks again his voice low. Low and careful and rough. 

I like whatever the fuck you like. If you want an army of kids in a white picket fucking house, then you get that. If you never want to look at baby again, I’ll kick all of them into the fucking sun. But that’s a bridge we’ll cross after I fuck you like you deserve. Got it? 

You don’t get to respond to the Phantom—remind it that it’s not real, and can’t really offer you anything—because the door opens downstairs and real Ben is home. He’s not talking or making any real noise except for heavy footsteps, but his Thing in your body flares and you know it’s him. 

When you exit the bedroom he’s outside the door, frowning down at you. You’re about to ask him where the hell he went—your mouth already open and eyes narrowed at his stupid, handsome face—but he moves first. Pulls you against him and kisses you, long and heavy until your knees are weak and you can’t stop the moan escaping your throat. He takes it, mouth curling in a smirk against yours, and your blood is hot. Burning in your body and trying to push out of you, into Ben. Everywhere you’re connected to him you can feel his hunger, and when his arm wraps around your hips and squeezes your whole body almost caves in with an effort to keep all your love for him in you. You’re still a little high from your orgasm, and he’s kneading at your skin and dropping his head to suck on your neck, and it’s almost impossible to just push him away. Take an unsteady step back—keeping your fists in a tight grip on his shirt because you’re not that strong—and watch him carefully.

“Good morning to you too, Benjamin.”

“It’s fucking not,” he grumbles, hands covering yours against his chest, holding you there. “Better now, but still not good.”

You have to focus on the not good part, so that your heart doesn’t pound right through your ribs and out of your chest at the better now part. “What happened?”

Ben sighs, eyes scanning over your face, pulling you apart until he finds whatever it was needed. You let him. It always makes you feel safe, known, and a little more alive because Ben can look at you like that, so you let him. You sit in the concrete resolve wrapping around you, in the rumble of his Thing around your body, and wait.

“You’re hungry.” 

You are hungry. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, unless you count whatever Frenchie had been hiding in the Kitchen that had gotten you drunk and the tiny pill in your system, still not kicked it. But Ben says it and suddenly you’re starving, and your stomach makes a bubbling, rolling sound. Ben hears it—of course he does, stupid asshole with stupid supe ears—and smirks at you.

“Shut up.”

His smirk widens. “I didn’t say shit.” 

“It was a preemptive shut up.” You take a step further down the loft strip, and Ben follows, folding his fingers between yours as you walk down the stairs. “To keep you from saying something fucking dumb.” 

He snorts, and you can feel his shrug jostle your arm. “Preemptive warfare is a crime, Sunshine.” 

“I know that.” You turn with a frown, waiting for him to join you at the bottom of the stairs. “How do you know that?” 

“I’m not a fucking idiot-“ 

“I don’t think you’re a fucking idiot.” You tilt your head at him, feeling that odd glow start to hum inside Ben’s body as his glare softens. “But when I tried to explain Bill Clintion’s impeachment, you started shouting about how fucking should never be a crime. I’m just never sure what you do and don’t know.”

Ben sighs. “I was there when the UN Charter was signed. I remember all the fucking peace-pussies arguing about that shit for three days.” 

You grin at him. “Old-“

“Shut the fuck up and eat.” Ben starts to tug you toward the table, where he’s poured the coffee into your mug and set out a plate with a muffin that definitely hadn’t been in your apartment before. 

“Where-“ 

Ben pulls out your chair, and all but shoves you into it before walking around to his own seat, dropping across from you with a glare. “Dining hall.” 

“Why-“

“You like those muffins. And you need to fucking eat.”

You sigh. “No, I’ve got that. Why were you in the dining hall?”

Ben’s jaw tightens, and he glares between you and the muffin. “Working before I got kicked out. Eat.”

“Kicked-“ 

“Eat, and I’ll fucking tell you.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and take an exaggerated bite of the muffin. Ben nods, staring at your chewing as he answers.

“Got a boner. MM saw it. Fucking prude asshole kicked me out.”

“Out of-“ You swallow, covering your mouth with a hand. “Out of what?”

“Work.”

“Why were you working in the dining hall?”

“You’re not allowed to flip your shit.”

You glare at him. “No.”

Ben grunts your name. “You’ve got to swear you won’t fucking lose it-“

“If you don’t want me to lose it, dumb dumb, don’t lead with asking me not to. Why were you working in the dining hall?” 

He sighs. “We had a meeting.”

“About?”

“You.”

He’s still looking at you. Watching you carefully, a foot pressed against yours under the table. There’s something sick in his body, made of that stone protection but wrapped in toxin. Worry. Ben’s worried.

You take a long breath. “What about me.”

“If you’re okay.”

“I’m fine-�� 

“No, you’re fucking not. You got drunk,” He snaps your name, but it’s not angry. It’s strained, and the sickness starts to wrap around his throat. “And you’re still throwing yourself in front of trains when you need to rest.” 

“That’s not for you to decide,” you glare at the muffin on the plate, because you can’t look at Ben. If you look at Ben, you might start crying. “I’m here, Ben. I’m okay, it’s just a lot-“ 

“It doesn’t fucking have to be a lot. This doesn’t have to be your job-“

“Yes, it does.” You sigh, feeling blood draw in your mouth as you bite through your cheek. Blood. So much blood. “I have to fix this.”

He mutters your name, and when you look up he just looks sad. The toxin has settled into something that aches, and Ben’s eyes on yours are just tired and sad. “This is fucking killing you. You’ve done enough, you’ve fucking scarified all your goddamn privacy and peace for this shit, just rest-“ 

“No,” you give him a small, sad smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’ve bought us time, but we have to finish this soon. I’ll rest when we finish this.”

Ben shakes his head, the ache growing, but sighs. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Is anything I say going to make you, for once in your damn life, listen to me?”

“No,” you mumble, and it’s a half lie. The only thing that would make you listen is the one thing Ben won’t say, so, technically, the answer is no. “It won’t. I have to-“

“You have to fix this.” Ben mutters. “I know. But,” he narrows his eyes at you. “No more fighting Homelander and Sage by yourself. No more risky, shit fucking plans that put you in the line of fire or make you afraid.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You don’t really want to fight Homelander and Sage by yourself again. Ever. You don’t want to see blood on your hands for the rest of your life, and agreeing to this makes something loosen around Ben’s throat, so it’s so fucking easy to agree. “Deal.”

Ben’s hand finds yours on the table, squeezing once. “Deal.”

“Ben?”

He repeats your name back to you with a frown, and you smile at him. This one’s real, and born from how he didn’t yell. You didn’t yell. He’s still here, and worried about you, and you love him, so it’s perfectly natural and easy to smile at Ben.

“You smell like shit.”

Ben scowls, but his amusement sparks in your chest and your smile widens. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t get to shower last night, because someone was climbing all over me and wouldn’t let me fucking move.”

You feel the heat rush to your face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t-

“Apologize.” You sigh, poking at your muffin. “I know. I’m still sorry. I was out of it, I know you’re my friend, but it was, um, weird to see what everyone was saying-”

Ben grunts your name, and his Thing is aching. “You’re my best friend. I was fucking serious when I said you’re my best friend.”

“I know-“

“You clearly don’t,” he glares at you, and you can’t look away from him. His thumb is running over your knuckles, there’s a heat in his eyes that starts to make the fire push under your skin, makes something in your gut ignite. “I fucking adore you. Not some fake, plastic, marketable version of you. Nothing any sort of fucking Hollywood pussies and vultures say about you, nothing Vought says, and nothing fucking Homelander says matters, because I adore you, and know you better than fucking anyone. You’re not a liar, or a whore. You are mean, but I usually deserve it, and you’re also beautiful and kind. Got it?”

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done to not launch yourself across the table and kiss Ben, tell him you love him, and that you know that. That any fear or doubt festering in your head is in the form of a cold, cruel voice calling you weak, and what pushes it away is an ardor and love and certainty that Ben will catch you. You manage to stop yourself. Bite your tongue and choking down the words, give Ben a smile that says thank you.

He sighs, scooting back from the table. “Come here.”

The muffin is forgotten as you stand and move around the table, falling into Ben’s lap and just holding him. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his shoulder. You can feel his every breath moving his body, and it makes an even harmony with his Thing in your chest.

“The media is full of idiot pussies,” he mutters in your ear, hands drawing circles on your back. “In the 60s, they said I couldn’t really shoot a gun. I can shoot a fucking gun.”

You smile against him. “I know. I’ve seen you do it.” 

“And I hit the mark every goddamn time.” 

“Sure.”

He pulls back, glaring at you. “I fucking do.”

“I believe you, Ben.” You grin at the adorable, frustrated frown and knit of his brow. “What am I supposed to say?”

Ben narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t know, something fucking encouraging. With Ryan you kept telling him he was strong-“

“Ryan is twelve. You’re a grown man.” You pull yourself further up his chest until your lips are brushing against his when you speak. “You know you’re a good shot, Ryan didn’t think he could hold more than three tons. What do you want me to say.” 

He’s glaring at you, and his words are low and tense. “Shut up.”

“I’ll say it,” you mumble, falling further forward as that glow deep in Ben’s body returns, still not fully kissing him. It’s hard to keep teasing him, because his invading all your senses in the best way possible, but you manage. “I’ll tell you you’re stupid fucking handsome, and strong, and my, Benjamin, what nice hands you have-”

His Thing roars inside of you, and suddenly he’s moving. Picking you up and slamming you down onto the table, leaning over you and smirking against your lips without ever just fucking kissing you.

“Brat.” His words are a growl, and you can just watch him. Feel the hunger sweeping through your body, drowning out all the lingering fear and tension until it’s just Ben. Ben, I love you. “You’ve got a smart, pretty fucking mouth, Sunshine. You want me to touch it, all you have to do is damn ask.”

You don’t bother. Your nails are digging into the skin of Ben’s neck, and his grin is so fucking cocky, and the groan he lets out when you tug him down—pull his mouth onto yours—is the best thing you’ve ever heard. He doesn’t push it further—his hips pinning yours to the table so you can’t buck up into him—but it’s still too much. Your love is starting to get away from you. But you can hold it in a little longer, hopefully long enough long enough for Frenchie’s stupid fucking pill to do its job so Ben can just fuck you. He can’t keep looking at you and touching you like this—hungry and reverent and devoted—and expecting you not to fuck him. He needs to feel how much you love him, even if it’s just with hands and teeth and moans instead of soft confessions and whispers of Ben. Ben, I love you. 

It doesn’t kick in though. Your blood is starting to burn in your body, and Ben’s thing is rioting in the spaces between your ribs. So you have to lean your head away and take a heavy long breath as Ben drops his head to your neck, kissing and sucking a wet, heavy trail up to and along your jaw, across your face, and stopping on your lips, pressing his brow to yours. 

“Ben?”

He grunts, and you move your hands to hold his face, pulling him back to meet your eyes. 

“You still smell like shit.” 

He scoffs. “You didn’t seem to fucking mind.” 

“I am capable of being distracted.” You grin up at him, running a hand up, into his hair. “Are you going to distract MM or Annie at dinner by making out with them when they say you smell?” 

“Smartass.”

“You love it.”

Ben sighs, dropping his full weight back onto your body, pressing his head into your neck. “I do.”

That doesn’t mean anything. He means the words—Ben means everything he says, it’s one of the reasons why you love him—but they don’t mean anything. His breath is warm on your skin, and his hands tracing across your body like you’re sacred, but it doesn’t mean anything. His thing in your chest is pounding and roaring and trying to carve something crucial into you, but it doesn’t mean a single thing. Your blood is starting to leak out of your body, and that’s why he’s acting like this. It’s your love, crawling away from you, making you a liar. A weak, horrible liar.

You pray he can’t hear the strain of your voice when you mumble in his ear. “Go shower, Pretty Boy.” 

He nods, hauling himself off your body with a strange expression that you can’t read, kissing you one last time. Slow and gentle, letting your hand curl into his hair before standing up—tugging you upright as he does—with a glare.

“Finish your muffin.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You see his mouth twitch up, and can’t stop your own smile crossing your face as he rolls his eyes, and kisses you one last time before he walks away—up the stairs and into your bedroom—and you love him. You need this stupid pill to kick in now, because you love Ben and the longer you draw this out the harder it is to keep holding your ground. The more you walk right up to the line, the harder it is not to cross it. That had been too close, far too close, but it had still been impossible to stop it.

Because you’re weak. The words are bored, obvious, and crude in your head. You’re a weak, manipulative, lying bitch. Useless. Weak and useless. 

You’re not useless. You can’t be useless. You might be weak—too soft, too kind, too forgiving—but you won’t allow yourself to be useless. Once your empathy is severed, you will be useless. You’ll have your fire—sitting comfortably under your skin—but if you have to face Homelander again it might go dormant, and you still don’t trust your singing enough to work in your favor.

You’d promised not to face Homelander alone again. And you’ll never go looking for it. But there will always be a chance. A single, hollow sliver of a possibility that no matter what you—or Ben—do, Homelander will find you again. You can’t be useless if that happens. You won’t be useless if that happens again.

The phone Frenchie gave you is already half set-up. The benefit of your phone being destroyed last time is that—unlike when Homelander had found it—you could just port in all your old data. Nothing’s been lost, nothing has to be redone. Ben’s contact is still pinned at the top of your messages, and your heart breaks a little when you see the last text he’d sent you.

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

If Butcher gives u shit for going off bok, tell me and Ill rip his face of

He texts like a child with two broken thumbs. The longer he’d had a phone, the more his grammar and sentence structure had regressed. You’d made the mistake of turning his autocorrect in the hope it would make him try harder, then the bigger mistake of explaining texting abbreviations, and now every single text he sent looked like that one. He’s an idiot, and you love him so much it might kill you. 

I’m going to Annie and Hughie’s. I love you.

You type it without thinking, and barely catch it the second before you hit send.

I’m going to Annie and Hughie’s. I’ll see you in a few hours.

Ben’s phone lights up on the table next to you when you hit send, and you smile when you see your own photo, still his lock screen.

You can’t lose this again. It’s what carries your feet out the door and down the hall, makes you knock on the door of Annie and Huhgie’s apartment. You can’t lose Ben again, and if you’re useless, you might. I might be wiser to ask Ben to do this for you, but you don’t have the strength to explain to him why you need it. To see his face fall and feel his worry when you tell him that you’re still weak and afraid, that he’s your best friend and you adore and trust him, but you’re still weak and afraid. That his word means more than anyone’s, but it can only do so much to combat Homelander’s cold and the screams of the world that you’re a liar. A weak, useless, liar.

Hughie answers, and says your name in surprise. “Hi, are you-“ 

“I need you to help me.” 

“Me?” Hughie blinks. “Um, with what?” 

You take a deep breath, crossing your arms over your chest. “Teach me how to shoot a gun.” 

Hughie stares at you, mouth slack, shaking his head and stumbling over words. “What? I mean, why? Why are you asking me, and not MM or Butcher or, uh, Soldier Boy-” 

“Because you’re the only one who I trust to not be a dick about it.” That’s true. MM will try to be patient, but you’ll get frustrated with yourself and it will end up making you both tense and angry. Butcher will probably end up shooting you to make a point, and—on top of not wanting to explain to Ben why you need this—he’ll be a cocky fucking showoff about it, and you’ll get horny, and nothing will get done. “Please, Hughie. I don’t need to be an expert sniper, I’m just the last person left on the team who doesn’t know how.”

“But I’m, I’m a terrible shot. Butcher says I might as well be blind-“ 

“You know how to use a gun?” 

“I mean, I guess yeah. I kind of have to, for this shit-“ 

“Then teach me.” You sigh. “Please.” 

“Are you really-“ 

“I’m sure.” 

“Then yeah,” Hughie takes a step back, pausing with a nervous smile. “Okay. Just, give me a sec.” 

He’s only gone for a minute, and when he reappears with shoes on and his phone in his hand, Hughie closes the door and leads you down the hall. 

You walk in silence for a while, before he clears his throat and frowns at you. “You’re really okay?” 

“I’m tired,” you mumble, looking down at the floor. “But I’m okay.” 

“And Soldier Boy-“ 

“He’s good.” You smile to yourself, because you’re a lovesick dummy. “He’s really good. He brought me a muffin.” 

“A muffin?” When you look at Hughie, he’s frowning. “That’s, that’s kind of sweet.” 

You nod, shrugging. “He’s a lot more like a puppy than you’d expect. I mean, I know you met him before I did and he was a dick-“ 

“I don’t judge you,” Hughie interrupts you with almost frantic words, and you blink at him. “I mean, he’s still a dick, and you know that, but, fuck, he’s isn’t calling me cocksucker anymore, and even Annie thinks he’s nicer-“ Hughie shakes his head, and you start to get a little worried he’s going make himself pass out. “Not nicer. But less, um, mean? Like he’s still a dick but more of a soft dick? That’s horrible, I-“ 

“Hughie,” you almost nudge his shoulder, but manage to catch yourself. “I get it. And I don’t think you judge me.” 

“Oh. Good.” As you reach a door labelled Shooting Range—Ben was right, they don’t tell you fucking shit—Hughie stops in the hall, giving you an awkward smile. “Is there, uh, a reason you don’t want him to teach you?” 

You breathe out a small laugh. “Not any you’d want to hear.” 

“I don’t think that’s true, I mean you’re my friend-“ 

“We wouldn’t get through a lesson without being, um, less than PG-13.” 

Hughie’s eyes widen, and his face grows red. “Uh, gross.” 

You shrug. “I told you. Should’ve believed me.” 

Hughie opens the door, and his smile is still embarrassed, but less awkward. “Learned that lesson, I guess.” 

You grin, and follow Hughie inside. 

The shooting “range” is more of a shooting hall. It’s not small—there’s at least five or six booths—but it’s narrow and tight, with the guns being kept in a large gray trunk that Hughie kneels down to unlock. 

“This can’t be safe,” you mutter, watching him shift through the hopefully unloaded firearms. “You’d think a government building would have stricter gun codes.” 

“They do.” Hughie stands back up, handing you a pistol similar to the one Ben had taken from the agent in February. The one you’d shot Sage with. “These are all ours. I don’t think we’re technically supposed to have them here, but nobody seems to really give a shit that we do.” 

You hum an agreement, glancing down at the gun. “Now what?” 

“Uh,” Hughie looks around the hall. “I guess you chose a booth, and I figure out where MM would’ve put the ammo?” 

All the booths look the same. Headphone mufflers you won’t need provided, targets set up behind a steel counter that runs the length of the hall, floor to ceiling dividers between each area. The dividers have full length mirrors for some reason—though it is pretty easy to imagine Frenchie flexing into them to try and show off to Kimiko, or Butcher winking at himself when he makes a shot—and there’s a panel of buttons to adjust the targets. You chose the closest one, and watch Hughie shuffle around the area until he finds a small box at the booth closest to the door, filled with neatly sorted bullets.

He returns to your side, swallowing and giving you one last apprehensive look. “Ready?” 

You nod. “Born it.”

The first thing you learn is how to load the gun. Hughie does it once for himself, then again to walk you through it, and you manage to do it yourself in one try. The moment the bullet is locked in the chamber, Hughie freezes. 

“We probably should’ve done gun safety stuff before the bullet went in.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” you shrug, keeping the barrel pointed at the floor. “No pointing it at anyone, myself included, safety on until I shoot, finger off the trigger, don’t be a dumbass. Right?”

Hughie nods, and from there it’s all about how to shoot the gun. Logistically, it’s simple. In practice less so. Guns are loud. You don’t wear the earmuffs—your eardrums can’t shatter, so you hand them to Hughie—but the bang still echoes through the room and the blast makes you stumble back slightly. Over the hour you figure out how to plant your feet so you don’t fall backwards, Hughie gives you nervous, hesitant tips about aiming and stance and hand positioning, and you get better. You’re not good at it, not by a mile, but you’re hitting the target and stop flinching every time you fire. 

“You want to try and move it back?” Hughie leans forward, frowning at ten foot space between you and the target. “I think you could manage fifteen-“

You feel Ben right before someone knocks on the door. His Thing in your chest spikes up along your spine, and you sigh as Hughie jumps. “Shit.”

He’s shouting your name, and the wall is barely muffling it. “Open the damn door!”

“Do it yourself, drama queen!” You yell back, and the banging on the door stops.

“I can’t, you took the fucking keycard!”

You had done that. It’s sitting on the counter, right in front of you, next to your phone. When you open the door to a glowering Ben—hair still damp, scanning you up and down—you sigh. “I forgot, sorry-“

“Shut up.” He marches past you, glaring around the room, eyes settling on Hughie. “Why the fuck didn’t you pussies tell me we had a gun range.”

“Uh, I don’t-“

“And what the fuck are you,” Ben turns back to you with a scowl. “Doing in it?”

You give him a flat look. “Guess.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt. Why are you here.” 

“I went looking for you, and Annie said you and Hughie went to the gun range that nobody fucking told me we had.”

“We didn’t think-“ 

Hughie’s mumble is cut off by a sharp glare from Ben. “Shut the fuck up. What have you taught her.”

“Ben, I asked him to-“

“Why him?” Ben’s Thing in you is aching and sour, and his face looks almost lost. “Why didn’t you fucking ask me?”

You don’t have a good answer that doesn’t either start or end with Ben. Ben, I love you, so you just give a lame, guilty shrug. “I didn’t want to bother you-“

“You never fucking bother me.” He snaps, and you feel the heat rush into your face. “I’m sure as hell going to be a better fucking teacher than he is.” Ben jerks his head at Hughie, and you frown. 

“Hughie’s been fine, Ben, don’t be an ass.”

Ben scoffs. “I’d be fucking better.”

“I actually agree with Soldier Boy-“

You raise a hand, and Hughie falls silent as you hold Ben’s glare. “I’m not try to join the fucking army, Benjamin, just shoot well enough to get by. And we’re doing fine.”

Ben steps to the side, gesturing back to the booth. “Prove it.”

Hughie all but stumbles back as you march to the counter—shoving past Ben and ignoring the heat rolling off his body into yours—and pick up the gun. You can feel his eyes on you, his Thing starting to scorch your lungs and heart, you pull the trigger. Hughie yelps—you hadn’t given him enough time to put the earmuffs back on, you give him an apologetic look when you turn—but Ben is silent. Stalking over and glaring at where you’d hit the target. A small, smoking hole right over the heart. You’d been aiming for the head. Ben didn’t need to know that.

“Good,” he grunts, leaning past you and picking up the gun. Loading it with rough, careful movements. “Do it again.”

“Do I, uh,” Hughie’s looking between where Ben is standing over you, glaring at the gun, and where you’re staring at Ben’s hands, trying not to drool, clinging to even a fake anger at him. “Do I have be here?”

“No.” Ben snaps, glancing up at you with a smirk flashing across his face. “Fuck off, kid.” 

Hughie doesn’t wait to be told twice. He gives you a small nod, Ben an anxious look, and the door closes behind him.

“That was mean, Ben-“ 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ben passes the gun back into your hands, taking a large step back. “Again. Knees further apart.”

You frown. “Why?”

“You won’t have to tense as much to stay up.”

“But-“

“Just fucking do it, Sunshine.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and turn back to the target. Knees further apart, raise the gun, shoot.

It’s really annoying when Ben is right. His handsome face gets all smug, and his eyes get all taunting, and the cocky grins that always pulls at his lips never goes away until you kiss it. “You going to admit I was right?”

“Fuck you.”

He snorts. “Do it again, and I might. You look fucking hot.” 

You flip off, but do it again anyway. This time the recoil barely even shakes your body, and Ben’s grin grows.

“Arms higher up.”

“What?” 

“Your arms.” You don’t get to turn to glare at him before you feel Ben behind you, wrapping around your body and moving your arms to level with your shoulders. “There. Again.”

You have to take a shaky breath before you fire, because even after Ben steps back his Thing keeps bellowing in your chest.

It goes like this for another hour. Ben adjusting you, muttering orders and standing behind you as you fire. His Thing in you becomes almost violent—clawing against you, making your blood rush and burn and try to reach Ben—but you push on. You won’t be useless. 

“Even footing,” Ben grunts from behind you as you glance back at him, reloading the gun. “You’re putting more weight on your left. They need to be even.” 

“Can you say please?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You grins at him. “So you can’t say please.”

Ben lets out a long, labored sigh, and his Thing makes a long, feral sound, and pushes at the top of your chest. “Please. Brat.”

“Well,” you hum. “If it’s that’s important to you-“

“Shoot the damn gun, Sunshine.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Asshole.”’ 

When you turn back around and raise the gun, you freeze. 

You can’t feel Ben.

He’s behind you, a foot away and watching you silently, and you can’t feel him. His Thing in your chest is gone. Not dormant, not quiet. Vanished. Frenchie’s pill had worked. You weren’t dead, and you can’t feel Ben.

You lower the gun and turn around, taking a deep breath when you find Ben staring at you, scanning your face with a frown.

“Are you-“

“I’m done,” your words are quick, frantic, and you rush past him. Unloading the gun, shoving it back into the trunk and dropping the bullets in MM’s box, and turning back to Ben. “Let’s go-“

“What's wrong with you.” He cuts you off with a glare, crossing the hall until he’s towering over you. His arms are brushing yours, and you can’t feel if he’s angry or annoyed or worried. You can tell he’s worried—he’s still studying your face, wrapping around you without touching you so he can block you from any possible threats—but you can’t feel it. He grunts your name, low and gruff and Ben, he’s saying your name and looking at you and he’s warm and- Fuck it.

You surge up, crashing your mouth into Ben’s and yanking him down by his shirt to meet you halfway. His hesitation barely lasts a second—a long, painful second of him tensing under your hands—before he makes a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest and spurs into action. Hands grabbing your face, angling it so he can deepen the kiss with his tongue down your throat, biting your lip as he presses his body against yours and walks you back into the wall. Groaning when you start to tug at his hair, dropping his head into your neck and sucking that one spot until you moan. A loud, desperate moan that makes Ben grin as he moves a hand up to support himself against the wall, dropping the other grab your hips. 

He says your name again, and you can hear the hunger. It’s not in you, but Ben’s voice is deep and hoarse—his hand starting to squeeze and rub your skin as he nips near your ear—and you know he’s hungry. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay-“ You cut your own words off with a high, breathless sound when Ben starts to leave sloppy, open kisses along your jaw. “Fuck, I’m good. I’m really good, Ben, please-“

“You’re good.” He pulls all the way back, his fist curling on the wall near your head as he watches you with dark eyes. “You want this.”

You nod, not even bothering to pretend that you’re not desperate. That if Ben doesn’t touch you right fucking now you might die, or at least start crying. “Yes, please.”

He nods, but still doesn’t just move. “Say it.” 

“Benjamin, please fuck me-“

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s back on you. Bruising your mouth with his, growling your name down your throat as you start to try and climb up his chest with desperate hands scraping at his shoulders. Hands Ben grabs and moves around his neck, muttering an order against your lips that rumbles through your body and makes your knees almost buckle. 

“Hold on.”

Ben’s knee pushes between your thighs before you’ve even had a chance to listen, and when you roll your hips onto it his hands hold you down. Stopping any movement, pressing your core right against him as his arms drop to hook under your knees. He pauses, rubbing circles on your thighs as he adjusts his grip and watches at you, still trying to grind down onto him.

“Please-“

“Tell me you want me. Fucking mean it.”

You nod, your nails digging into his neck. “I want you. Now, Ben, I want you now-“

This kiss is heavy. All of Ben’s weight is over you, and he’s eating your words, turning them into breathless, needy whines. You're a little dizzy when he pulls back, trying to chase his mouth and squirm higher up his leg, and almost squealing when your shorts are ripped off your body. He’s grinning at you, watching you with almost an amazement, and his chuckle makes you whimper. “You want me so bad you’ll fuck yourself on my knee, Sunshine?” 

“Ben-“

You yelp when he hauls you up and over his body, your legs wrapping around his chest and your head leaning down to try and connect his mouth back to yours. It doesn’t take much effort, because Ben drops you down his chest just enough that you almost slam back into him. His nose is bumping yours, and he tastes like coffee and strawberries, and his beard is scraping the soft skin of your face as he takes more. His hands are squeezing and pulling at your thighs, and he won’t stop making low, deep sounds that cause his chest to vibrate and make you moan into his mouth. 

“So fucking good,” he mutters your name, and you try to roll your hips against him. Try to do something about your whole body feels like it’s on fire, how every time Ben’s big, rough hands move against you, and every time he groans and sucks your tongue into his mouth, you can feel your heartbeat move down, down and the ache grows painful. “And so needy, beautiful. I haven’t even really fucking touched you, and I bet you’re dripping.” 

“Please, Ben, you asshole-“

He pulls back, and looks up at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever. With blown-out eyes, his nostrils flaring and his mouth half-open. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He growls, one hand moving up your thigh, running one, broad finger right over your pussy and sending a shiver through your body. “I’m going fucking ruin you. Fuck your beautiful fucking cunt until you can’t sit down, until you can’t walk for a week. You’re going to fucking soak my cock, I’m going to make you so fucking wet and desperate you’re going to fucking scream.” 

You nod, and if you had any sort of thoughts right now that weren’t Ben. Fuck, Ben, I love you. I love you, please, Ben, I love you, fuck, please- you’d point out that you can’t be fucked enough to get sore, you can’t get sore, but Ben moves to rub your clit in one rough movement and you decided that it doesn’t really fucking matter. If he wants to take up that challenge, who are you to stop him. 

“Words.”

“Do that,” you mumble, your whole body going slack as one of Ben’s fingers runs between your slit over your panties, before rising to flick your clit once. “Fuck, Ben, do that, that’s good-“

Your words turn into a whine when he starts to slide you down his body—an arm moving around your waist to keep you upright and pressed against him—and Ben hisses when you brush against his cock. Hard in his pants, long and thick, pressed against your thigh and so close and big and Ben- 

He’s trying to sit you on one of the booth counters, but you lean your weight forward and keep going down. Ben doesn’t try to stop you, his hand moving up to your face as he watches you drop down onto your knees. Level with his cock, grinning up at his slack face. When he says your name, his voice is rasp. “Are you-”

“Yeah,” you move your hands up his thighs, holding his gaze. He needs to look at you like that forever—like you’re all the stars in the sky and the spaces between them—because combined with the way you can see his cock twitch in his pant and how you his  chest is rising and falling in a heavy, uneven pattern, you might cum without Ben even touching you. “Do you want me to?”

He chuckles, leaning back against the divider and tangling his hand into your hair. “What are you supposed to do if I tell you no.”

“Shoot you,” you start to undo his belt buckle, glancing between your hands and Ben’s face. His jaw is clenched and his free hand has moved to grip the counter, leaving an indent on the metal. “I can do that now. I’m good at it.”

“You’re real goddamn confident for only a day of practice-“

“I have a great teacher,” you smile at him, and Ben swallows, glaring at you. “He’s a cunt, but really hot. I think I might let him fuck my face if he asks nicely.” 

“Brat.”

You hum, pulling down his pants, boxers with them. At this point it’s really not worth fighting the small whine that escapes your throat when you see him, because that cock is yours. And you’re going to suck it, if it's the last fucking thing you do. “That’s not nice, Benjamin-“

He growls your name, and when you look back up his eyes on yours are feral. Pushing right through your body, making you grind mindlessly onto nothing and your nails dig into his skin. “Do you want me to fuck your face.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing back at where he’s only centimeters from your mouth. “I do.”

“Well,” he smirks. “Are you going to ask nicely?”

“You dick-“

“My dick, beautiful,” he keeps glancing over your head, looking between you and something behind you that you can’t see. “Is going to fuck your perfect, pretty fucking mouth. If you can’t take it, squeeze both my knees twice. Got it?”

You nod, and your voice is breathless. “Both knees. Twice.”

“I’m going to start slow,” his hands in your hair curls into a fist, pulling your head back until your eyes meet. “And when I cum-“ 

“Inside.” Your words are a little too fast, because Ben grins.

“You want to fucking swallow, Sunshine?”

“You know I swallow, asshole-“

“I don’t know shit,” Ben winks, and you grind down on to the air again. “But I know you’re going be a goddamn work of art with your lips on my cock. And I know you’re going to fucking prove that you can swallow all of me. Ready?”

“Yes-“

The word has barely left your mouth when he slams forward. His cock pushes into your mouth, the head resting at the top of your throat, and Ben’s hand tightens in your hair as he just sits there. His dick on your tongue and your nose brushing his hips, and a whimper leaving your body when Ben groans and you can feel it.

He pulls you off, keeping the tip right between your lips, and tugs your hair until you look up at him. “Good?”

You squeeze his thigh, hold his gaze, and run your tongue around the head on his cock, grazing it with your teeth. Don’t be a pussy, Benjamin. Fuck my face.

His eyes flash, and you hear the metal of the counter whine under his grip as he takes a deep breath, staring behind you again. When he looks back to you, he looks like an angel again. He’s so handsome, and he looks primal and powerful, and you love him. You can tell him that, in a long, desperate noise when his cock is muffling any real words he could hear. He’s looking at you like you’re the holy one, when he’s everything. He’s the whole world, and when he starts to move, all your thoughts just clear to that. Ben. Ben, I love you. 

He’s not holding back. Ben’s hand is guiding your head up and down his cock at a brutal, unrelenting pace, and his hips keep bucking when he hits the back of your throat to the point that you give up on trying to do anything productive and just focus on keeping your gag reflex from choking on him. There’s smoke starting to curl from your hands and the whole world is growing blurry, but fuck, you don’t care. He tastes so good, and every hiss and groan that leaves him is like music, and he’s everything. 

“You’re, fuck,” you suck on him once, just trying to contain the drool falling out of your mouth, and Ben’s hips jerk. “You’re so fucking good. So fucking good, Sunshine, you’re beautiful and perfect and I fucking-“ His words turn into a long, deep strained sound, and you start to grind onto the air. You can’t let go of his legs to touch yourself, you’ll fall over, so all you can do is whine and hope a pillow somehow appears for you to ride. “Fucking Christ,” Ben’s words are pushed between his teeth, and he somehow goes faster. “God, fuck, you’re beautiful. Your mouth was fucking made for my cock, so fucking soft and warm and perfect and, fuck-“

Ben’s hand flies off the counters, joining his other on your head, and he’s close. You can feel the head of his cock twitch when your throat squeezes around it, and his words are starting to slur.

“Fuck, you’re so good, you’re fucking beautiful, and perfect, and fuck, Sunshine, you’re beautiful, you don’t have a goddamn fucking clue how beautiful you are, how much I, fuck-“

You’re dizzy and your brain is clouded with lust, but you’d manage to move one hand off of Ben’s thigh to squeeze his balls. It works just like you’d hoped, and Ben’s whole body tenses as cum shoots, fast and hot, down your throat. You swallow—you’re not a pussy, and you love him more than anything—and Ben’s hands splay against your scalp and cheek. When you pull back your lips make a popping sound, and you smile up at Ben as he looks down at you, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and his breathing loud and ragged. 

“Fucking Christ,” Ben mutters your name, and the devotion is back in his eyes. Devotion and heat and something else you don’t understand. “You’re… Christ.”

“I’m Christ?” You shift on your knees, trying to ignore how the ache is starting to become painful so you can just look at him. “Wow. Don’t tell Butcher, he’s a big god-hater-“ 

Ben pulls you upwards, leaning down to meet you halfway, kissing you until your knees start to shake again and you have to lean against him to avoid falling over.

“Brat,” his growl is paired with a long suck of your upper lip and squeeze of your waist, and you make a high, needy sound. “Want me to show you something?” 

You have literally no idea what he might want to show you, but you nod because right now if Ben asked you to figure out time travel you’re pretty sure it would take you an hour.

He spins you around, pressing your back to his chest, and you realize what he’s been staring at. The mirrors. On the booths. You’d totally forgotten about the mirrors on the booths.

“See how fucking beautiful you are?” Ben’s muttered in your ear, the hot air of his breath making you shiver and try to push further back into his body. “You’re the most beautiful woman in goddamn history. Fuck, you might be the most beautiful thing in history. I don’t know how you ever expected this to be a fair fucking fight, for us not to end up here. Where I’m going to make you feel fucking good and you’re going to watch.”

“Ben-“

“I liked watching you suck my cock, Sunshine.” One of his hands has moved up to palm your breast, and the other has started to trail down, tracing patterns on your stomach. “You looked real fucking pretty, taking my cock all good and deep in your throat, letting me fuck your face and swallowing my cum. But you’ve got a little bit of a problem, don’t you.”

Ben’s watching you in the mirror, locking your gaze with his, a thumb rubbing over your nipple as his hand slides a little lower, resting right below your abdomen. All you can do to answer him is nod, and try to grind up so that his hand will drop further. 

“You’re so fucking desperate for me to touch your perfect fucking cunt,” Ben says your name, and it rolls through your body and sets you on fire. There’s no smoke rising through your body, but everything smells like pine and the whole room is starting to dance with a misty, green light. “That’s your problem, isn’t it. You need me, need me so bad you’ve fucking ruined your underwear just from sucking my cock. I can fucking smell you, Sunshine, you smell fucking delicious.”

He hates you. You’ve made a grave miscalculation in how much Ben likes you, because this is torture. He won’t stop teasing you and calling you beautiful and good and not just fucking touching you. He must hate you, because you’re whining sounds that are meant to be pleas of his name and humping the air near his hand, and Ben won’t just touch you. Ben’s smirking at you in the reflection, and he’s such a cunt and he’s so handsome and you love him and if he doesn’t start doing something right now you’re going to punch him square in his stupid, smug, handsome face.

“You want me to fix your problem?”

“Ben-“

“I know, beautiful.” His hand moves out from under your shirt, moving up to your chin until you’re looking back at him and he can kiss you. Soft, gentle, deceptively innocent. “I’m going to take care of you. All you have to do is-“

He needs to stop being so sweet and good or you’ll tell him you love him. He needs to shut the fuck up and touch you. “Ben, please. Please-“ 

“Please, what?”

“Fucking touch me-“

His hand on your chin pulls your head back down, forcing your eyes back to the mirror right as he tears off your underwear. Ben grins at your reflections, thumb brushing against your lip as his hold on your chin loosens slightly, and his hand drops down, resting right between your thighs without just moving.

“God, you’re fucking wet,” he’s still whispering right into your ear, and it’s making you a little lightheaded. “Is this all for me, beautiful? All for me to take care of?”

You start trying to grind down onto his hand, and Ben’s free arm drops back down to pin your hips against him, muscles rippling when your try to squirm away and he’s kissing your neck and hie won’t move- “Ben-“

“No,” he grunts, hand moving back up  your shirt to brush your tits, face buried into your shoulder where you can’t actually see him. “My turn. You’re going to relax, and I’m going to do this for you.”

“Please-“

He says your name, pulling back to meet your eyes in the mirror. “You trust me.”

Not a question. You both know the answer, and it’s more for Ben to hear it. You know that, because when you glare yes, at him through the mirror, he grins. You’re about him to just do something, anything, whatever he wants as long as he’s touching you, when he moves.

Ben’s finger pushes right into you, pumps once, twice, and then is joined by a second one. “Fucking tight,” he growls in your ear, still watching you. Always watching you. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are, squirming on my fucking fingers. I’ve barely even touched you, Sunshine, and you’re already fucking squeezing me.” 

You make a loud, shameless moan as he starts to move faster, playing with your boobs with his hand up your shirt and muttering pure filth into your ear.

“So fucking good. Look at how fucking good you take me, beautiful, and this is just my hand. Just my goddamn hand that’s making you whine, whine like the perfect fucking brat you are, fucking soaking my fingers, covering me in how much you fucking want me. So goddamn perfect, you’re perfect, it’s not even a fucking contest. So fucking good and perfect, going to cum all over my fingers, look at how fucking beautiful you are with your perfect fucking mouth all swollen and your pretty fucking eyes watching me ruin you-“

He groans, because you’ve figured out that you can grind backwards, into him.

“God, fucking Christ, woman, you’re driving me fucking insane-“

Ben rambles start to turn into just low, deep sounds that roll straight through your body and down into your core. He’s still talking, and you know he’s saying words, but you’re high. Ben’s fingers are big and broad and rough inside of you, and they keep brushing against that one spot deep in your body, and he won’t stop scissoring them when they push all the way in. He keeps driving his fingers into your pussy, curling and twisting them with harsh, fast movements, and yanking them out until you can see them in the mirror. See your need for him falling off his hand, see them disappear back inside you, see his palm start to rise up to press against your clit and rub.

“Ben-“

“So fucking good,” He growls against your skin, half-pulling you off the ground. “I fucking adore you, Sunshine, fuck, see how goddamn perfect you are? Look at you, so fucking beautiful, all wrecked on just my hand-“ 

You do look beautiful. Ben is wrapped around you—he looks almost animalistic as you grind back into him with your head pressed into his shoulder—and you’re not sure if it’s the lights dancing through the room or the way that some sort of soft music seems to be playing in the distance, but you’re beautiful. You think, in the haze, that it might be how Ben’s watching you. That his eyes on yours are full of lust and hunger and affection, and you feel like something better than what you are. You’re barely in control of yourself, grinding back into Ben and countless, wanting sounds leaving your body, and you feel like wildfire. Like a star, burning and burning against the infinite way that Ben exists around you. Beautiful. But you look at Ben, watching you like you’re all the stars and planets and everything through and past the universe, and he’s better. You mold perfectly against him, and his dark hair is falling over his eyes as he ruts up into you. If you could think enough to make yourself move, you’d reach up and brush it away. But your hands are clinging to his arm over your stomach—you can see his muscles flex with every movement and it makes you squirm—and all you can do is meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s watching you whine and moan and writhe against him, and his jaw is slack, and he’s everything. Ben is everything, and he’s looking at you like you’re holy and crucial, so you’re beautiful. Ben doesn’t lie, so you’re beautiful. 

Ben’s palm rubbing circles on your clit start moving in faster, smaller movements right as his fingers press down inside of you and he bucks up into your ass, you almost scream as you cum. He’s still just watching you—eyes blown out and jaw slack—and when your legs give out he scoops you up into his arms, tearing his gaze from the mirror and meeting your eyes. I love you. Ben. Ben, I love you.

“You’re okay.” When you nod, your brain still a little slow, he frowns. “Words-“

“I’m okay, Ben.” You smile at him, reaching a hand up to trace his jawline. “I’m going to have to buy you a thesaurus, but I’m good.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Well, you clearly fucking liked it-“

“I wasn’t of sound mind, Pretty Boy. Corrupt testimony.” You shrug, leaning further into his body. “You need to learn a few more words.”

Ben grins at you. “Someone’s trying to talk herself out of a proper fucking when we get home.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“See if I give a fuck.” He kisses the top of your head, and you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s so warm. You can’t feel him, but Ben’s still so warm. “You want a proper fucking?”

You swallow. “Yes, please.” 

“Then here’s how this is gonna go.” Ben leans back, holding your gaze. “We’re going to put on your shorts, and I’m going to put on my pants. We’re going back home, and cleaning up, then going to dinner because you’re going to need the energy. Then, the moment the door closes behind us, I’m fucking you. In our bed. Deal?”

Your voice is a whisper. “Deal.”

“Good.”

He helps you get dressed. Ben pulls his pants back on—shifting his body to block yours from the door—and let you use his arm as balance while you put your shorts back up your legs.

Your underwear has been effectively destroyed, and when Ben picks it up you think it’s going straight into the trash can, but instead he shoves it into his pockets and winks at you.

“Pervert-“ 

“Shut the fuck up.”

He tries to carry you. Ben bends down, and you have to whack him to stop him from picking you up and carrying you down the hall. He pouts—the grumpy, annoyed pout that means he being a little bitch about something—but settles for slinging his arm over your shoulder and tucking you into his side. He smells good. He’s big and strong and warm and Ben, and you can’t feel him. You’re okay. You can touch him, but not feel him, and you’re okay. 

It’s later than you’d thought it was. Barely twilight—everything cast in a blue-purple glow—and Ben tells you you’re taking the first shower. Demands it, actually. Grumbles about how I fucking showered this morning, and you’re the one covered in cum, Sunshine until you relent, because you’ve lost stupider arguments with him and you are indeed covered in cum. Mostly yours, running a little down your thigh, but some of Ben’s had managed to escape your mouth and dried on your chin and shoulders. Ben walks you upstairs and into the bathroom, drops on the bed with a frown as you start to close the door, and you love him a little too much to leave him looking like a lost puppy dog in the dark. Especially when it’s really not that much effort to cross the room and stand between his legs, to give him one last gentle kiss until his hands relax on your hips and he’s grinning against your mouth. 

Ben. Ben, I love you.

The shower is almost burning. Steam collects on the glass door and your skin is still sensitive from the gun range, the hum of the fan the only sound tangling in with the water.

It’s been coming in waves. It’s important for you to recognize that this is coming in waves. When you tell Ben you’re okay, you really are. You’re okay. Then. In that moment, when you’re smiling and laughing with the people you love and care about, you’re okay. When Ben looks at you—really looks at you, sees you in a way no one else does—you’re okay.

And then you’re not. Then it’s silent, and you’re cold even with the scalding water, and that fan is humming in the same key that ones in Homelander’s apartment did. And you’re so tired.

Something feels wrong in your body. It feels like a limb has been cut off, like something’s been taken out that’s vital to your existence. The longer it’s gone—the longer it’s just you, alone in your body—the worse it gets. The more you can feel that part of you that snapped in Vought tower, and all you can feel it is flailing around in your body, trying to find where it can fit back in. It’s making you sick, it’s making everything cold again. You’re broken, and afraid, and exhausted, and all this fear has to stay in you. All of this pain has to live and fester in your body, and you’re not strong enough to stomp it out. Weak. 

You hate not feeling Ben. He’s not touching you, and you can’t feel that imprint of him in your chest, and you’re alone. You can’t control yourself, keep your shit together and keep your love or panic or pain in your body, so now you’re alone. Ben’s just outside—waiting for you to finish showering—but the fan is humming like you’re back in the tower and they had warm showers there as well. Weak.

Everything is wrong. You’re broken and exhausted and in pain and weak. Ben is staying and you don’t get why, and people aren’t giving up on you but they should. You’re making everything worse for everyone, and you’re so cold, and the whole world can see how weak you are but you’re tricking your friends and lying and you’re weak. Useless, lying, manipulative bitch. Nobody stays, because why would they? Unlovable, better alone, better never being touched or loved because nobody could love you, you’re too weak.

You can’t feel your tears falling, any evidence of them being washed away with the water and the steam, but your eyes hurt and your throat is sore. You can’t breathe, and you’re drowning and alone, and you must have started screaming because the door bangs open and Ben bursts into the room. You think you say his name, but it’s so loud. Your blood is pounding in your ears and it can’t get out, and the fan is suffocating you, and Ben’s here but you can’t feel him. You can’t feel anything but freezing, painful, cold.

He turns off the fan. His fist slams into the wall, the sound stutters off, and you still can’t really breathe but now you can hear him. He’s saying your name, pulling off his shoes and opening the shower door. His hands move to his shirt, but you make a weak, choked sob and he freezes. 

“Fuck it.” 

You hear that. You hear his grunt, and watch as he pushes into the water, let him pull your head against his chest and hold you. You’re shaking and making strangled, weak noises, but he’s holding you up and staying. You don’t know why, but Ben’s really, truly staying. He’s humming in a low, horrible voice that rolls through your body and slowly starts to clear your head, and when he says your name this time you can nod, so he continues.

“What’s wrong.”

“I, I can’t-“

“Breathe,” he mutters, hand running up and down your back. “I’m here, you’re safe, and this is real. We’ve got all the damn time in the world, so fucking breathe.”

It takes another minute, of uneven, heavy inhales and long, sobbing exhales, but you finally manage to whisper the full sentence. “I can’t fight him again.”

You can hear his frown, but he doesn’t ask who. You both know, and Ben doesn’t waste time on clarification. “There’s not a chance in hell-“ 

“There is,” you mumble. “There’s always a chance. And I can’t. If I have to, I won't be strong enough, I can’t fight him again.” Your words are vomiting out of your body, your head shaking against Ben’s chest like you can push the thought—push Homelander’s cruel, callous voice—out of your head forever. “I’ll lose, I can’t lose, I can’t go back-“

Ben snaps your name, and you let out a shaky, weak breath. “Fucking listen to me. You are never fighting that pussy alone again. Ever. That’s fucking it. End of story. You can cry all you goddamn want, as long as you understand that you are never fucking going back there, and as long as I’m fucking alive he will never touch you again.” 

You make another soft sound, and nod. “I’m sorry-“

“No. You’re fucking everything to me, and if you’re burning, it’s not without me. So don’t fucking apologize.”

This time you just let out a breath, and wrap your arms fully around his body. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t push that one. Ben just grunts, and holds you tighter against him, shielding you from the water, still holding you like you’re sacred. Always holding you like you’re sacred. Like you can’t be broken, because the fire in your body will seal the cracks back together, and he’ll be here while it does. Words are coming a little easier, mumbled into his shirt, and you’re still broken but it’s not wrong anymore. “I’m tired, Ben. I’m so tired.”

“I know,” you can feel the heave of his chest as he sighs, and you think you might just fall asleep here. You’re safe, Ben would pick you up, and you’re so tired. “Sleep, Sunshine. I’m here.”

He’s here. Ben’s here, and saying all the right things, so right before you collapse against him, you smile. His heart is right under your head on his chest, and you can’t feel him but he’s real.

“You’re home.” Ben mutters onto the crown of your head. “That’s all that fucking matters.”

This time, when he’s warmer than the water and stronger than all the fear in your body, his heart lulling you to sleep, you believe him.

End Note: Big character centered chapter, I know, but we have to EARN the confession. Who do you guys think is gonna slip up and say I love you first. I know who I’m putting money on, but also that’s insider trading.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[paigesbasketball]

My Jealous Baby

Paige x black OC Warnings: just kissing

The energy in the party was electric, and for the most part, Tasha was enjoying herself. She and Paige had been mingling with friends, but Tasha couldn’t help but keep her eye on her girlfriend. There was something about how effortlessly beautiful Paige was—how her presence commanded attention—that always had people flocking to her. Tasha loved it, of course, but tonight, something felt off.

Tasha was talking to a few friends when she noticed a woman standing way too close to Paige. She had long blonde hair and was wearing a tight dress that drew attention, but it wasn’t just the woman’s appearance that made Tasha’s stomach twist. It was the way she was speaking to Paige—too casually, too familiar for Tasha's liking.

The woman had a way of leaning in just a little too close, her hand brushing Paige’s arm a little too often. Tasha could tell Paige was uncomfortable—her smile was polite but forced, her body shifting slightly as if she wanted to put some space between them, but the girl didn’t seem to get the hint.

Tasha felt a protective instinct rise up inside her. She wasn’t usually one to get jealous—she trusted Paige completely. But something about the way this girl was lingering, testing boundaries, was starting to make her feel uneasy.

She excused herself from the conversation and made her way toward the two of them. As she got closer, she could hear the girl’s voice, too sweet, too flirtatious. "You’re amazing on the court," she was saying, her tone low and smooth. "But I bet off the court, you have to beat them off with a stick, huh?"

Paige’s smile tightened, and she took a small step back, but the girl wasn’t backing off. Instead, she stepped forward, invading Paige’s space even more.

Tasha stood a few feet away, her gaze narrowing as she watched the interaction unfold. The girl’s voice was a little too intimate, her body language a little too bold. It was clear she was trying to make Paige more than just a fan in her eyes.

Before Tasha could take another step, the girl leaned in, her lips too close to Paige’s ear as she laughed a little too loudly. "You must have so many people wanting to take you out," she said, eyes glinting with something Tasha didn’t like.

That was it.

Tasha’s jaw clenched as she strode forward, making her presence known. The girl hadn’t noticed her yet, but Paige did. Her eyes immediately flicked to Tasha, a look of relief passing across her face. Tasha smiled at her, trying to convey silently that she was there, that she had Paige’s back.

The girl finally turned and met Tasha’s gaze, and there was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, sizing up Tasha for a moment before speaking, as if to push her further. "I didn’t realize you two were together," she said, the flirtatiousness still lingering in her voice.

Tasha stepped forward, closing the space between them as paiges arm instinctively wraps around Tasha's waist. She pulled her close, making sure the girl could see it was more than just a friendly touch. "Yeah," Tasha replied, her voice calm but firm. "Now you know."

The girl hesitated for a moment, but Tasha could see the calculation in her eyes. She wasn’t backing down. Instead, she shifted her stance, still standing too close, as if daring Tasha to challenge her. Tasha’s pulse quickened. She wasn’t about to let some random girl think she could try to flirt with Paige in front of her and get away with it.

Paige, sensing the rising tension, cleared her throat. "Look, I appreciate the compliments," she said, her voice light but firm, "but I’m really not interested."

But the girl didn’t take the hint. She kept smiling, leaning in just a little too much. "Oh, I’m sure you’re not interested in someone like me, huh?" she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, oblivious to how uncomfortable she was making Paige.

Tasha’s protective instincts flared up, her patience starting to wear thin. It was clear that the girl wasn’t going to take no for an answer unless she was given a little more of a push.

Tasha didn’t hesitate. She reached up, cupping Paige’s face gently but firmly, and pulled her in for a kiss. Not just a peck, not a casual brush of lips, but a deep, possessive kiss—one that left no question about the nature of their relationship.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with affection and dominance, showing the girl exactly who Paige belonged to. Tasha felt the moment shift as the world around them faded away. There was no mistaking the message she was sending: Paige was hers, and no one was going to get in the way of that.

The kiss lingered for a few beats, long enough for the girl to see it, long enough for her to understand. When Tasha finally pulled back, her lips were still brushing against Paige’s, their foreheads touching. Paige looked at her with a small smile, her breath a little heavier than usual.

The girl, looking embarrassed and flustered, took a step back. Her expression faltered, the flirtatious mask slipping away, and she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. She glanced between Paige and Tasha before muttering a quick, "Okay, got it. Sorry for the misunderstanding." Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, visibly shaken by the very public display of affection.

Tasha turned back to Paige, her heart racing, but her voice calm. "Did I make my point?" she asked, a teasing smirk on her lips.

Paige laughed softly, her eyes still sparkling with affection. "You definitely did," she said, her voice light, but there was a warmth in it that told Tasha how much she appreciated it. "But I didn’t think you needed to go that far."

Tasha shrugged nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "I didn’t think she was getting the hint."

Paige raised an eyebrow, giving Tasha a pointed look. "You’re kind of intense, you know that?"

Tasha smiled, pulling Paige closer by the waist. "Only when I need to be," she replied, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s lips. "You’re mine, Paigey. And I’m not going to let anyone forget that."

Paige laughed, leaning into her as the tension from the moment finally dissipated. "Well, you definitely made an impression."

[grantgustluv]

training camp - jude bellingham

pairings: jude bellingham x fem!footballer!reader

author’s note: hope you like it, let me know if you want a part 2 or send requests xxx

Jude could never stop staring when you were around. He’d always admired you. He wasn’t just in awe of your beauty but also your football skills. However, the admiring he did, or creepy stalking as Trent called it, was always done from afar. Jude was intimidated by you, even though you were 22 and Jude 20, you had still achieved so much more at a younger age in comparison to him and this drew him in even closer. At the age of 16 you had made the move from Manchester United to FC Barcelona, you had made your international debut for England at the age of 16 too, you had won the Champions League, WSL title, Liga F title, the Euros and now the World Cup. He wasn’t jealous, if anything he was proud, you were constantly proving people wrong and doing good for the women’s game and he was truly in awe of you because of this.

The sun was beating down on St. George’s Park and the men’s team had been given the afternoon off after a full morning of training in preparation for the pre-euro friendly against Belgium. A few of the players had decided to go out and watch the women’s team train. They stood by the side of the pitch observing them play, none of them could deny the fact that the Lionesses had a team made of some world class players. The full time whistle for the mini game was blown by Sarina and the girls started to make their way to get themselves a drink.

Jude noticed Gareth making his way over to Sarina and the two seemed to be in conversation for a while before the girls were called back over by the latter, with Gareth jogging over to Harry asking him to get the rest of the lads to come out onto the training pitch. Once the two teams had made their way to the training pitch, Gareth began, “Hey guys, we are aware that both of you have the afternoon off, however for a bit of a change we think it would be fun to have a mixed match,” Sarina carried on, “we’ll split you into mixed teams and carry out a mini tournament,” Jude looked over at you and caught you being nudged by Ella and Alessia, whatever they had said had caused you to grin. Jude’s heart nearly stopped when you turned around and made eye contact with him before quickly looking away and putting your head in your hands, with Ella and Alessia yet again giggling and nudging you.

After Sarina and Gareth’s announcement you felt elbows being nudged into your side. “I wonder who you want to be teamed up with?” Tooney mumbled in your ear with a teasing tone. You rolled your eyes at her, “don’t start” you warned her with a chuckle, a faint blushing growing on your cheeks. It was as if you could feel someone’s eyes burning into the back of your head as you turned round and were met with Jude’s warm eyes gazing at you. You quickly turned back around in embarrassment before you heard the teasing giggles of Tooney and Lessi from either side of you.

You had to say that you were pretty confident with your 7-a-side team. You were up in front, with Jude, Ella and Mason in midfield, Stonesy and Leah in defence and Mary in goal. Leah was assigned role of captain for your team and obviously gave a very motivational team talk before the tournament started. Not that you were actually paying attention to any of it, being too distracted by Jude’s arm wrapped comfortably around your waist in the team huddle. Jude felt like he never wanted to move from that position. He had never actually realised how small you were until he was stood directly next to you, he kept catching himself staring at you at every possible opportunity. Maybe Trent was right, maybe it was more than a crush.