#I love for his happiness he deserves good things

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of the last yr scene.

wilmon endgame • episode 6

the camera work is so on point - it follows wille around moving frenetically, as to emphasize the hurry and the tension.

simon gets in panic mode for a sec. he was never over wilhelm but definitely thought their relationship was.

at first he looks ... scared - not of wille but of what he feels for him at this point. he's still in love but they got to the finish line, they broke up with no idea of when or if they will talk to each other again, there's no reason for wille to chase after him if not to change something.

it makes his thoughts spiral, but somewhere in his little heart he has a lot of hope too and that's why he steps out of the car to hear what he has to say.

these words really mean everything and i'm glad they're told directly to simon. it's such a sigh of relief for wilhelm to get this off his chest and mean it for real: he's doing something for his own sake finally - to be free, to be happy, to be in control of his own life for once.

he never got to choose anything - somebody else has always done it for him - but he no longer has to be afraid anymore.

simon is just as relieved and the proudest: he proved over and over again to care so deeply. to see wilhelm constantly hurting inevitably hurt him too.

he knew wille was brave - he actually told him once - and he was so right. it takes a lot of courage to do what wille just did.

shut up he's adorable :') playing with his fingers and trying not to break into a smile. he wants to look calm and collected but his heart is jumping out of happiness.

this comes after the are you sure you're over me? - breaking up was all it took for wille to think that simon must not love him anymore: to earn love and for everything to be perfect in order to deserve love is what his family and royal life always taught him - but simon's what the hell do you think? proves him so wrong.

the tears in his eyes i cannot - this is the face of a man who's bursting out of love, he adores simon this much.

they crush into the hug like they've been dying to do it. what a moment it must be for them to close the distance.

in this hug they find what they both were needing the most.

they hold on to each other. emotions are so overwhelming and it's written all over their faces - it feels too good to be real.

it's almost scary to let go now and i love how they tighten the hug at the same time, clinging to make it last longer.

and they're at the same height so simon has to be on his tippy toes ahsjkh.

oh the beauty in simon feeling every emotion to the fullest and letting them all out. he doesn't hold himself back and it is truly heartwarming to watch.

this hug is healing - he's giving joy to be back in wille's arms, proud of wille for putting himself first, relief because the fear of losing him was too much to handle.

the single tear drop and the pure disbelief in his expression. he caresses wille's cheek and keeps looking at him like he's the most precious thing.

doing the triangle method - again. old habits never die huh.

wille letting simon choose to whether kiss him or not.

it's our simon we're talking about, the one that risked it all and initiated their very first kiss bc he liked wille that much already, so could he possibly not do that now? he obviously does and can't help but smile into it.

they can't get enough of kissing and wandering hands. it's like their only way to make this become more and more real.

fair to say they're kinda obsessed with each other's hair!

love love looove the transition from them kissing in secret in the dark of the night to them kissing freely out in the open in the daylight - the most beautiful metaphor.

completely different plot points but the feelings involved are so familiar - reunion kisses are very much their brand: there's longing, passion, need to savor the moment to make it last.

and this time it can really last forever.

something super special about simon not replying with i love you too but sticking to i love you - it is not just reciprocal.

this shot haunts me. it's from the documentary and idk why it wasn't used in the final cut, i'll make space for it here anyway!

wille can't stop smiling and simon never takes his eyes off of him - he's emotionally overwhelmed by the way he bites his lip and his chin trembles. my heart.

no ray of sunshine between them could ever distract me from wilhelm diving into this kiss with his eyes open.

simon is definitely being pulled closer by the waist here and i take it very personally.

i was already full on sobbing when this part of the scene came up - sara and felice calling them out bc they are too caught up in their own bubble.

they still take one more moment to just look at each other so fondly tho and try to get a grip on what has just happened.

i get you wille! simon is the loml too.

this shot is sooo!!! hillerska in the rear view mirror as they drive away - time for the last bittersweet goodbye.

all of them are wearing white, they're driving off in a white car, most carefree than ever - sounds a lot like freedom and fresh start.

some things never change - they're the most comfortable and happy when they can be just them, just like this.

god knows where they're headed but it doesn't really matter as long as they're together.

wilmon endgame babyyyy.

they've been through so much but come so far eventually. it's the end of young royals but the beginning of a new chapter in wilmon story - the best one - and it's only theirs to write from now on.

it's still going to be tough, storms are still about to come their way and ruin plans, life is a mess but at least they have each other. they're holding hands in a we are in this together kind of promise and it's so reassuring to know.

it was a hell of a ride but love and hope wins - and there's truly no one who deserves it more than them.

time to appreciate the comparison between wille the perfect crown prince and messy hair with undone shirt wille!

he looks at the audience for the very last time with the most content smile and we can tell he really is - ready. to leave us behind, to face the future, to experience life in the way we've seen him fight for before.

wilmon breaking the fourth wall together at the end would've been insane, but it feels so right to focus on wille actually: it's always been just him, it all started with our eyes on him and his journey, the choice to abdicate is for his own sake and not for simon - he said it himself - so for him to be alone in the closing shot makes the most sense to me.

wilhelm finally getting his own little family of people who loves and values him, simon sharing life with the person who's made him feel seen and cared for - this is honestly the best finale we could’ve ever asked for.

[daisymbin]

hi!! may i request 39(angst prompt) with wonwoo but with a happy ending please🥺💖

of course lovely!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

angst prompt #39: "why are you pushing me away?"

wonwoo’s been watching you from across the room, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of his drink. your laugh rings out, light and sweet, but it doesn’t reach him. it hasn’t reached him in weeks.

he doesn’t know when it started. the distance between you. the hesitance in your smile when you see him. the way you pull away from his touch like it burns. it’s suffocating, the way it all sits heavy on his chest, and he feels like if he doesn’t say something now, he might never get the chance.

so he crosses the room.

you notice him too late. he sees the way your shoulders stiffen, the way your expression flickers between surprise and something that looks like dread.

“can we talk?” he asks, his voice quiet, but firm.

“now?” you glance at your friends, at mingyu who’s watching the two of you with an expression that’s too knowing.

“yeah.”

you don’t argue. you never do, and that’s the part that kills him the most.

he leads you outside, to the quiet balcony where the noise of the party fades into the background. the cold air bites at his skin, but it does nothing to numb the ache in his chest.

“wonwoo, if this is about—”

“why are you pushing me away?” he cuts you off, his voice trembling despite himself.

your mouth opens, then closes. your eyes dart to the ground, and you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shield yourself from him.

“i’m not,” you say finally, but the words sound hollow even to you.

“you are,” he presses, stepping closer. “and i don’t—I don’t understand why. did i do something? say something? because if i did, just tell me, and i’ll fix it.”

“it’s not that simple, wonwoo.”

“then make it simple,” he says, his voice breaking at the edges. “please. i can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. not when it feels like you’re already halfway out the door.”

your breath hitches, and he sees the way your hands tremble as you grip the railing.

“i’m not good for you,” you whisper, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “you deserve someone who’s... better. someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“what are you talking about?” his voice cracks, but he doesn’t care. “you think you don’t love me enough? you think you’re not enough? where are you getting this? where is this even coming from?”

you turn away, and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull you back.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “and i feel like that’s all i ever do.”

“you don’t,” he says immediately, but you shake your head like you don’t believe him.

“i do, wonwoo. i see it. in the way you look at me, like you’re scared i’m gonna disappear. and i—” your voice wavers. “i don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

he takes a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides.

“you’re not,” he says firmly, stepping closer again. “you’re the opposite of that. every time you smile, every time you laugh, even if it’s not at me, it’s enough to make my day. you’re the one thing in my life that feels like home, and you think you’re hurting me?”

you turn to look at him then, your eyes wide and glassy, and it shatters something in him.

“if i’m scared, it’s because i don’t want to lose you,” he continues, his voice softer now, pleading. “but if you push me away, that’s what’s going to hurt. not being with you—that’s what’ll break me.”

he watches as your defenses crumble, piece by piece, until you’re standing there with tears streaming down your cheeks and an expression so raw it makes his chest ache.

“i’m scared, too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“then let’s be scared together,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “we’ll figure it out. i don’t care how long it takes or how hard it gets. i just—i just want to be with you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“you make it sound so easy.”

“because it is,” he says, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. “as long as we’re together, it is.”

you let out a breath, one that sounds like it’s been trapped in your chest for far too long, and then you’re closing the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest.

he freezes for a moment, like he’s afraid this is some kind of cruel dream, but then his arms come up around you, holding you tightly against him.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble against his sweater.

“don’t be,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “just stay.”

you nod, and he feels your arms tighten around him.

he doesn’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, with you in his arms and your walls finally coming down, he thinks maybe—just maybe—it’s going to be okay.

[strnilolover]

Baker!Matt surprising Wife!Reader with her exact birthday cake for her birthday …

The smell of vanilla and buttercream filled the kitchen as Matt carefully placed the finishing touches on the cake. He leaned back to admire his work, a proud smile tugging at his lips. The pastel-colored frosting was smooth and flawless, decorated with tiny, intricate flowers and piped lettering that read, “Happy Birthday, Mommy!”

By his side, their four-year-old daughter stood on a stool, her tiny apron splattered with icing and batter. Her chubby fingers held a piping bag tightly as she concentrated on adding a few “extra decorations” (messy blobs of frosting) to the cake’s edges.

“Am I doing it right, Daddy?” she asked, her tongue peeking out in concentration. Matt chuckled, reaching over to guide her hand gently. “Perfect, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to love it. You’re a natural.” She beamed up at him, her blue eyes — a mirror of his own — sparkling with pride. “I can’t wait to show her! Is it time yet?”

“Almost,” he said, wiping some stray frosting from her cheek with a towel. “Let’s clean up a little first so it’s a big surprise.”

You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book, enjoying the rare moment of quiet in the house. The faint sound of giggles and whispered conspiracies drifted from the kitchen, making you smile. You had a pretty good idea of what your husband and daughter were up to, but you played along, pretending not to notice.

“Mommy!” your daughter suddenly burst into the room, her excitement bubbling over. “You can’t come in the kitchen yet, okay? It’s a surprise!”

You laughed softly, setting your book aside. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll stay right here.” Matt appeared moments later, wiping his hands on a towel, his signature lopsided grin in place. “Ready, princess?” he asked your daughter, who nodded vigorously.

He turned to you, his brown eyes full of love. “Close your eyes, baby.” You raised an eyebrow but complied, covering your eyes with your hands. You could hear the soft shuffle of feet and the faint clatter of a plate as they carried the surprise toward you.

“Okay, Mommy, open your eyes!” your daughter exclaimed, her voice filled with glee.

When you opened your eyes, you gasped. Matt and your daughter stood proudly before you, holding the most beautiful cake you had ever seen. It was exactly the cake you had described to Matt years ago as your dream birthday cake — the one you never thought you’d actually get. The delicate decorations, the colors, the little details — it was perfect.

“You made this?” you asked, your voice catching in your throat. Matt nodded, his expression soft and full of love. “Of course. You deserve nothing less. Although…” He winked at your daughter. “I had a very talented assistant.”

“I helped a lot, Mommy!” she piped up, puffing out her chest proudly. “I put the sprinkles on!” Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at the two of them, your heart swelling. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss your daughter’s forehead before wrapping an arm around Matt’s waist. “Thank you, both of you.”

Matt leaned down, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Happy birthday, baby. We love you.” You grinned, sniffing — and pulling both of them into a tight hug. “I love you guys too. Now… who’s cutting the first slice?”

“Me!” your daughter shouted, her hand shooting up.

Matt laughed, taking the cake back to the kitchen. “Alright, little chef, let’s do it together.”

© strnilolover

Cute little thing for tonight…i still need to work on the things i need to do AH

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Moth to a Flame

Summary - Bound by duty and trapped in a loveless marriage, her heart still belongs to Jace, the man she truly loves. The weight of her choices and the secrets she keeps threaten to tear her apart, while the tension between love and obligation grows unbearable.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2179

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you and he makes you feel like you should and all your friends say he's the one his love for you is true.

Jacaerys Velaryon had known from the moment he met me that I was the one.

His eyes held that quiet determination, a certainty that ran deeper than the tides that carried his bloodline, a certainty that defied logic.

It was as if the gods had whispered my name into his heart long before I even came into his life.

He didn't just see me—he understood me. There was something in his gaze that spoke of an unspoken promise, a bond that neither time nor circumstance could sever.

I felt it too, that inexplicable pull, that instant connection, as though fate itself had tied us together, long before we ever exchanged words.

From that first glance, my heart quickened in a way it had never done before as if it had been waiting for him all along.

I had heard of Jace long before we met. Stories of his valour, his grace in the air as a dragon rider, the weight of his lineage as a Velaryon, and his close connection to the Targaryen bloodline.

But none of the tales prepared me for the man himself.

The way his presence filled a room, not with arrogance, but with quiet strength. His every movement seemed deliberate as if each step he took was a dance between duty and desire.

There was no hesitation in him, no room for doubt. When he looked at me, I knew—I was his choice, not because he was told to make it, but because he wanted me, needed me.

In his eyes, I was not just a woman; I was the woman, the one who could match his fire with my own.

But life had always been cruel to Jace. It seemed as though the gods themselves took pleasure in denying him the happiness he deserved, casting obstacle after obstacle in his path.

From birth, he had been burdened with the expectations of his lineage, the whispers about his legitimacy, the constant reminder that despite his rightful claim to power, there were always those ready to question it.

His life had been a series of sacrifices, always doing what was expected, what was demanded.

And when it came to love, fate was no kinder.

It was not love or desire that would ultimately shape our paths—it was politics, a game played by those far removed from the human cost of their decisions.

I was promised to another before I could even comprehend what love truly meant.

To his uncle, Aegon.

Aegon, who was born with every privilege but none of the grace that should accompany it. Aegon, whose every action seemed to serve himself rather than the realm.

To him, I was just another acquisition, a pretty thing to claim and parade. He never tried to know me, never even bothered to see me as anything more than a symbol of power.

My hand in marriage was his prize, but my heart was something he would never possess.

How could he, when he didn't even attempt to understand the woman he had taken as his wife?

I would have endured it all—the cold indifference, the suffocating weight of being bound to someone I could never love—but now, I was trapped even deeper.

I was pregnant. Aegon's child. His legacy was growing inside me, sealing my fate forever.

The idea of it felt like chains tightening around my wrists, pulling me further into a life I had never wanted.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The hall was brimming with life that night, yet it felt suffocating, like a cage woven from silk.

The air was thick, cloying with the scent of spiced wine and perfumed candles that clung to my skin like unwanted caresses.

Laughter bubbled around me, but it felt distant, muffled, as if I stood at the bottom of the sea, drowning in the weight of expectation.

Even the candlelight seemed dim, flickering uncertainly, like the fragile hope I still held onto. The low hum of courtiers sounded around me all gathered to celebrate Aegon's latest achievement.

A title bestowed upon him by the King himself, something hollow like "Lord of the Realm's Peace."

Everyone knew he was no bringer of peace. He had done nothing to earn the title except exist as the heir.

The court was filled with false praise, their cheers hollow, just as hollow as the man they celebrated.

Aegon stood there, basking in the adulation as if he had single-handedly won a great battle. His smirk stretched across his face as though he had conquered nations.

But all he had conquered was me—through politics, through duty.

I sat beside him, a hollow smile plastered on my face, though my heart was far from here. My hands rested protectively over my stomach, hiding the secret that only I knew.

I felt the subtle signs, the tightening of my ribs, the unspoken changes within me.

Soon enough, everyone would know. Soon enough, this prison I was already in would become one I could never escape.

My future was no longer my own, tied not just to Aegon, but to the child that grew within me.

"Another toast!" Aegon shouted, his voice thick with the slur of too much wine. "To my beautiful wife, who will no doubt give me a strong son—soon enough."

He winked at me, and the room erupted in laughter. I felt the eyes of the court on me, appraising, judging, already imagining the son that would be born of our union.

They had no idea of the storm inside me, the turmoil of being trapped in a life I despised.

My smile faltered, but I forced it back into place.

Across the table, Jace sat silently, his dark eyes burning into me. He hadn't touched his cup all evening, his hands clenched into fists as if trying to contain the fury he felt. He knew.

He had always been able to see through me, to sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, not just at Aegon, but at the fate that had brought us to this place, this moment, where the lives we had dreamt of were slipping further out of reach.

His gaze flickered to Aegon, then back to me. A question lingered there, unspoken but clear. How long will you let him claim you?

"Are you not pleased, my love?" Aegon leaned in close, his voice lowering in mock concern, though there was nothing genuine in his tone.

His fingers brushed my arm, cold and possessive, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. "You seem... distant tonight."

"Perhaps I haven't been giving you enough attention." His lips curled into a smirk, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it took every ounce of strength not to flinch away.

His face was flushed from drink, the wine staining his lips, his eyes glazed over with self-satisfaction.

"I am tired," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "It has been a long evening."

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. "Tired! You're always tired." His lips curled into a smirk.

"Perhaps you need more rest." He leaned in, his breath warm and sour against my ear. "Soon enough, you'll be resting plenty—with my heir in your belly."

The words sent a chill down my spine, and I had to swallow the bile that rose in my throat. He didn't know the truth yet, but he could feel it. The claim he would have over me, over my body, once the child was born.

There would be no escape then.

No more stolen moments with Jace, no more dreams of what might have been.

As the evening wore on, I found an opportunity to slip away. The hall had grown louder, the courtiers more raucous with drink and merriment.

I sought solace in the shadows, slipping out of the bustling crowd and toward the tall windows that overlooked the darkened gardens. I pressed a hand to my stomach, the life inside me already feeling like a prison.

The weight of it threatened to crush me, to drown me in despair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jace's voice came softly from behind me, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't bear to see the anguish I knew was there.

"What was I supposed to say, Jace?" My voice trembled, betraying me. "That I am carrying the child of a man I hate? That I am trapped in this marriage forever?"

He stepped closer, his presence a storm at my back. "I would've taken you away," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "We could have left—before it was too late."

I finally turned to him, tears stinging my eyes. "And gone where? To what end? We would be hunted, disgraced. Aegon would never stop until he had us both dead."

I pressed a hand to my stomach, the gesture feeling like both a confession and a condemnation. "And now... there's no escape."

Jace's face contorted with rage, with grief. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might hit something or someone.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," he muttered, his voice thick with pain. "You were supposed to be mine."

I stepped toward him, desperate to touch him, to feel the comfort I knew only he could provide, but I stopped myself.

Reality crashed down between us, a barrier I could never break. "I was yours, Jace. I still am, in every way that matters."

But his eyes darkened with bitterness. "But you carry his child. His blood will live inside you forever."

"I didn't choose this!" I cried, the words spilling out of me, hot and raw. "You think I don't hate it too? Every day, I lose a piece of the life we could have had. But what can I do? There's no way out now. I am bound to him, bound to this child, forever."

Jace's gaze flickered to my stomach, his expression torn between love and despair. "And what of the child? Do you even want it? Do you love it?"

The question struck me like a dagger.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts, but the truth clawed at my throat, refusing to be silenced.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice breaking. "How can I love something that represents everything I've lost?"

The silence between us stretched painfully, heavy with the weight of everything we could never say aloud.

Finally, Jace spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And Aegon... does he know? Does he know that you still dream of me, that you think of me every time he touches you?"

Tears spilt down my cheeks. "No. He's blind to it all. He thinks he owns me. But he doesn't know where my heart truly lies."

Jace's hand reached for mine, and for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could still defy the odds. But before his fingers could touch mine, a sharp voice shattered the moment.

"There you are."

Aegon's voice, thick with drink, cut through the air like a blade. He approached us, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Jace's hand still hovered near mine, and I saw the suspicion flare in Aegon's eyes. He smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.

"I was wondering where my wife had wandered off to," he said, his voice laced with malice. He wrapped his arm around my waist possessively, pulling me close.

His fingers dug into my skin, cold and possessive. "You've been talking to my nephew, I see."

I stiffened in his grasp, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, but Aegon's laughter cut me off.

"No need to explain," he said, his tone mocking. "We're all family here, aren't we, Jace?"

Jace's eyes burned into mine, but his face remained impassive as he stepped back.

"Of course," he said, his voice strained. "I was merely congratulating your wife. She is... radiant tonight."

Aegon's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Radiant, indeed. And soon, she'll give me the son I've been waiting for."

His words were a death sentence.

They sealed my fate as surely as any chains could. And as Aegon led me back into the hall, his arm still wrapped around me, I glanced back at Jace one last time.

His eyes followed me, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. We were both trapped, prisoners of a world we had never wanted, bound by duty and blood.

And as I was pulled further into the crowd, I knew that the life I had dreamed of with Jace was lost forever.

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? But does he know the pictures that you keep? But does he know the reasons that you cry? Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies.

A/n - Abel does things to me, his music is just 🤌🏼

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 31/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Slight!Smut, Language, age gap, angst, fluff

Word Count: 8459

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It was late November, the air crisp but not too cold, and you sat on Jared’s porch in the backyard, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the scene. Jared’s wife and kids were out of town, leaving the house quiet except for the low murmur of conversation and the occasional sound of Jensen pacing in the yard below. Jensen was on the phone with Danneel—again. The tension in his voice was unmistakable, even though you couldn’t make out the exact words.

You took a sip from your beer, your shoulders slumping as you let out a sigh. It was the same story over and over. Danneel had promised to sign the divorce papers weeks ago, and yet here you were, nearly at the end of November, and nothing had changed. Every time it seemed like progress was being made, something would come up—some excuse, some new argument, and the papers would remain unsigned.

Jared, who was sitting beside you on the porch, glanced at you, clearly noticing your frustration. He took a swig of his own beer, his eyes drifting over to Jensen, who was pacing the backyard, his voice rising and falling as he argued with Danneel. It was hard not to feel the weight of the situation. This whole thing had been dragging on for far too long, and it was taking a toll on everyone—especially Jensen.

“Seems like it’s never gonna end, huh?”, Jared said quietly, breaking the silence between you. He leaned back in his chair, watching Jensen with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. "I hate seeing him like this. He deserves better".

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. The frustration and uncertainty had been building up inside you for weeks. You knew how much Jensen was struggling, caught between trying to do right by his kids and wanting to move forward with his life—and with you. But as long as Danneel kept dragging her feet, it felt like you were all stuck in limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.

“I just don’t get it”, you finally muttered, your voice tinged with frustration. “She said she would sign. What’s she waiting for? It’s like she’s doing this just to keep him tied up in knots”.

Jared let out a soft grunt of agreement. “That’s exactly what she’s doing. She knows what she’s doing, keeping him on edge like this. It’s about control, and she doesn’t want to let go of it”.

You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as you watched Jensen continue to pace. You hated seeing him like this—so stressed, so caught up in a situation that seemed to have no end in sight. You knew how much he loved his kids, how important it was to him to be a good father, and that made everything more complicated. Danneel knew exactly how to push his buttons, and she wasn’t afraid to use the kids as leverage.

“He can’t keep living like this”, you said softly, more to yourself than to Jared.

Jared nodded, his gaze still fixed on Jensen. “No, he can’t. But until Danneel lets go, I don’t know what else he can do. It’s like she’s holding him hostage, and there’s only so much he can push before it affects the kids even more”.

You knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. You took another sip of your beer, trying to push away the gnawing feeling of helplessness. This wasn’t how you’d imagined things would be when you and Jensen started this relationship. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the constant back and forth with Danneel, the endless waiting, was starting to wear you down.

After a few more minutes of pacing, Jensen finally hung up the phone, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He walked over to the porch, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He didn’t say anything at first, just dropped heavily into the chair beside you, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s still not ready to sign”, he muttered, his voice tight with anger. “Every time I think we’re making progress, she pulls something like this”.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, offering him a small squeeze of support. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I know how hard this is for you”.

Jared leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious. “You can’t let her keep doing this, man. She’s dragging this out for control, not because she has a good reason. You’ve done everything you can to be fair”.

Jensen nodded, but his eyes were distant, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. “I just don’t know what else to do, man. I don’t want to make things worse for the kids”.

Jared sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that. But you deserve to move on with your life too. She can’t keep you trapped like this forever”.

You sat there in silence for a moment, the three of you watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Jensen stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, before he finally ran his hands roughly over his face, letting out a long breath. Then, without saying much, he stood up and held out his hand toward you.

“C'mon”, he mumbled, his voice low but insistent.

You looked up at him, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, then glanced toward Jared, who gave you an equally puzzled look. “What?”, you asked quietly, unsure of what he had in mind.

“Just.. come”, Jensen urged again, wiggling his hand for you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he was planning, but there was something in his eyes—a mix of determination and vulnerability—that made you reach for his hand without question. Little did you know, Jensen had something significant planned. He’d been holding onto a secret, undecided, but now, in this moment, it seemed like he was ready to show you something he hadn’t even mentioned yet-.

As you stood up, Jared, clearly intrigued, followed suit. “Hold up, I want in on this too”, Jared said, grinning as he stepped beside you and Jensen. “I mean, if it’s something dirty or crazy, I’m definitely not missing out”.

Jensen gave a small, exasperated smile, shaking his head slightly but not giving away any details. “Trust me, it’s neither. But you can come if you want”.

Jared feigned disappointment, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Well, that’s a shame, but I’ll still tag along. Can’t have you two going off on some mysterious adventure without me”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Jared’s playful attitude, but your curiosity grew.

The three of you walked toward the driveway, and Jensen didn’t say much as he led you to your car, but his grip on your hand was steady, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Jared hopped into the backseat as Jensen opened the passenger door for you. Once you were all settled in the car, Jensen finally spoke up, his voice calm but a little uncertain.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about”, he began, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the driveway. “Something I haven’t told you yet”.

You stared at him, still puzzled by the silence. Jensen hadn’t said anything more since he’d mentioned having something on his mind, and with each passing second, your curiosity and anxiety grew. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words, but it was the uncertainty that really got to you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at Jared through the rearview mirror before turning back to Jensen, who was focused on the road.

“Just tell me, Jensen!”, you finally burst out, your voice a little more tense than you intended.

Deep down, a familiar fear had started to bubble up—one you had felt before, especially after the times Jensen had been slightly dismissive or distant following another argument with Danneel. The uncertainty always left you feeling like you were bracing for something worse, something you couldn’t control.

“Please”.

Jensen glanced over at you, his eyes soft but determined, as if he could feel the worry creeping into your thoughts. He shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to see it first”, he mumbled.

That didn’t help the knot in your stomach, but you tried to push the fear aside, trusting him. He wouldn’t lead you into something bad. He wouldn’t do that, right?

Jared, sensing the tension, leaned forward from the backseat and made an exaggerated groaning sound. “Man, you’re killing the suspense! If you’ve got some big secret, just spill it already. We’re dying here!". His teasing tone cut through the heaviness in the air, making you chuckle despite yourself.

Jensen shot him a quick look in the mirror, shaking his head again but with more amusement this time. “It’s not like that, Jared”, he said, though there was a slight grin on his face now. “Just be patient”.

You exhaled, trying to settle your nerves as the car continued down the road. Whatever this was, it had to be important, and Jensen’s tone didn’t carry the weight of something negative. But still, after everything with Danneel and the constant uncertainty of where things stood, it was hard not to let your mind wander to darker places.

"Don’t worry”, Jensen mumbled, though there was a slight nervousness in his voice that you couldn’t ignore. He placed his palm gently on your thigh, squeezing softly as his eyes flicked over to meet yours for just a moment before returning to the road. The brief glance was filled with reassurance, but there was still something in his expression—a vulnerability he hadn’t shown in a while.

You tried to relax, the warmth of his hand grounding you a little, though the tension still lingered at the back of your mind. You trusted him, but the unease from the past weeks, with Danneel’s constant presence in his life and the uncertainty about where everything was headed, made it hard to fully let go of the worry.

Jared, clearly sensing the unspoken tension, shifted in the backseat, trying to break the silence with his usual humor. “Well, whatever it is, it better be good, man. You’ve got the both of us on the edge of our seats here. If it’s not some grand romantic gesture, you’re in trouble”, he teased, winking at you in the rearview mirror.

Jensen let out a small chuckle, though it was clear his mind was still focused on whatever was coming next. “I think you’ll both like it”, he muttered, his voice softer now, as if he was gathering himself before revealing what he’d been holding back. His thumb traced light circles on your leg, an absentminded gesture that soothed your nerves just a little.

A few minutes later, Jensen turned down a quiet street, lined with trees that cast soft shadows on the road.

He continued down the private, tree-lined road. As the trees thickened, the houses became more secluded, each hidden behind dense foliage, with small, private driveways.

Jensen’s grip on your thigh tightened for just a moment before he turned into the driveway at the very end of the road. The tires crunched softly over the gravel as the car slowed to a stop in front of a beautiful, secluded house. It was large, but had a cozy, inviting feel to it. There were tall trees surrounding it, offering both shade and a sense of seclusion, making it feel like a hidden oasis tucked away from the rest of the world.

You stared at the house, a mix of surprise and awe filling you. It was stunning, with a modern but homey design—clean lines, big windows, and a porch that wrapped around the front, giving it a warm, welcoming feel.

Jensen turned off the engine and exhaled deeply, his hand slipping from your leg as he leaned back in his seat, glancing at you.

“I got the keys yesterday”, Jensen admitted, his voice quieter now. “I haven’t even taken a look inside yet. An old friend of mine did me a favor—said I could come by, take a look, see if it feels right”.

He opened his door, the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he stepped out. “Alright, kids, let’s get out”, he mumbled, clearly trying to lighten the mood, though the nerves were still there, evident in the way he kept flexing his hands.

You stared at Jensen, still not fully understanding what was happening. “What?”, you mumbled under your breath, feeling slightly out of the loop. Jared’s eyes, on the other hand, went wide with realization. Without a second thought, he stepped out of the car and gave Jensen a rough shove on the shoulder, catching you by surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”, Jared exclaimed, shoving him again, this time with even more excitement.

Jared’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it quickly became clear that whatever Jensen was revealing was big—bigger than you had initially thought. Jared, obviously thrilled at the prospect, looked like he couldn’t believe his buddy was moving back Austin.

Jensen just chuckled softly, sticking one hand into his jeans pocket and raising his other hand in a mock surrender. “I haven’t bought it yet”, he said, his voice calm but tinged with that same nervous energy that had been there earlier. The weight of the moment hung between you all.

You stepped around the car, your heart beating a little faster. “Bought?”, you asked quietly, the confusion in your voice giving way to realization. Jensen was talking about buying this house.

Jensen’s gaze softened when he looked at you, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. This was a huge step, one he clearly hadn’t expected to take so soon—or at least, not without talking to you first. “Yeah”, he admitted, his voice lowering as he took a breath. “I’ve been thinking about it. Moving back, finding something stable. And this place… I don’t know. It feels right. But I wanted you to see it first”.

Your heart skipped a beat at Jensen’s words. The idea of him moving back to Austin, especially so soon, wasn’t something you’d fully wrapped your head around. And now, standing here in front of this beautiful house, he was asking for your opinion, your involvement in the decision. The weight of it all hit you at once—this wasn’t just about a house. This was about him wanting to build a life with you.

You looked up at him, still trying to process what this all meant. “You really want me to help you decide? You want me to… move in with you?”. The question slipped out quietly, almost as if you were afraid to ask it, unsure if it was too soon to even think about something so serious.

Jensen’s gaze softened even more, and though he was clearly nervous, his determination never wavered. “Yeah”, he mumbled, his voice low but steady. “I can’t buy it until the divorce is finalized, but no matter what happens, I’d love to come back to Austin. To start fresh… With you”.

The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, making your heart race. He wasn’t just talking about the house—he was talking about a life, a future, one where the chaos of everything with Danneel and the divorce could finally be behind him, behind you both.

You blinked, glancing between him and the house, the realization settling in. “You really want this?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “I do”, he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “I want this for us. I know things are complicated right now, but this… this feels right. I want to build something here. Somewhere that feels like home”.

Your heart swelled with emotions—hope, love, fear, all swirling together. The thought of making such a huge step, of really committing to this new chapter with him, was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But there was no denying the way your heart responded to his words. You wanted it too, even if the idea scared you.

Jared, standing to the side with his arms crossed, broke the moment with a playful grin. “Man, you’re really going all in, huh?”. He nudged Jensen with his elbow. “But hey, if you’re coming back to Austin, you know I’ve got your back”.

Jensen chuckled, though the nervousness hadn’t fully left him. “I can’t buy anything until the divorce is finalized, but I’m ready to make the move".

You looked back at Jensen, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. “What if things with Danneel get worse?”, you asked quietly, the lingering fears bubbling to the surface. “What if she makes it harder for you?”.

“No matter what Danneel does, I’m moving forward. I’m not letting her hold me back anymore. I want to come back to Austin, and I want you with me”.

He was choosing you—choosing a life where you were central to his future, despite the uncertainty.

You took a deep breath, the emotions swirling inside you almost too much to handle. Despite everything Jensen had said, the weight of the decision still lingered. You wanted to be absolutely sure, to hear him say it again, to erase any doubts that might still be lingering in the back of your mind.

“Jensen”, you whispered, your voice wavering slightly, “are you really sure? Do you really want me to move in with you?”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, and then, to your surprise, a wide grin spread across his face. He rolled his eyes in that playful way that told you he wasn’t annoyed, just amused by your persistence. “You´re for real right now?”, he asked, his tone light but full of affection. “How many times do I have to say it?”.

He squeezed your hand again, pulling you closer until you were standing almost chest to chest. “I want this, alright? I want you. I want us. This isn’t just some spur-of-the-moment decision”. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I’ve thought about it, and yes, I want you to move in with me. I want to build a life together here. You’re a part of my future, no matter what happens”.

The warmth in his words made your heart race, and for a moment, everything else—the divorce, the uncertainties, the complications—seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Jensen, standing there in front of this house that could very well become your home.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, laughing softly at your own emotions. “Okay”, you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want this too”.

Jensen’s grin only grew wider as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring, “Good, because I’m not doing this without you”.

Jared, who had been standing to the side, watching the whole thing unfold with a soft smile on his face, finally spoke up. “Alright, lovebirds”, he teased, clapping his hands together. “Are we gonna check out this house or what? Because I’m dying to see it”.

You both laughed, and Jensen loosened his grip on you, his hand still firmly holding yours as he nodded toward the front door. “Let’s take a look inside”, he said, his tone lighter now, filled with excitement.

And with that, the three of you walked toward the front door, stepping into what could be the start of a new chapter—a home, a future, and a life together.

Jensen led you and Jared through the large front door, and as soon as you stepped inside, the house took your breath away.

The entrance opened into a grand foyer with towering ceilings and polished, dark wood floors that gleamed under the soft, natural light filtering in from the oversized windows. The walls were a warm shade of cream, and the space exuded a modern yet welcoming feel. Above you, a large wrought-iron chandelier hung, casting soft light that filled the room.

Immediately to your right, a formal dining room stood, framed by large archways and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in abundant sunlight. The dining table was modern and sleek, made from rich, dark wood, with plush, cream-colored chairs. French doors led out to the side yard, offering a private outdoor dining space.

The heart of the house was the expansive living room, which flowed seamlessly into the kitchen. This open-concept space had a stunning blend of modern luxury and comfortable design. The living room had towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving you a clear view of the stunning backyard and the Colorado River just beyond. The focal point of the room was a modern stone fireplace, embedded into a wall of rich wood paneling, and surrounded by a large L-shaped couch with oversized, plush cushions.

Above, the gallery on the second floor overlooked the living room, creating an impressive open space that felt both expansive and connected. The high ceilings, clean lines, and modern furnishings gave the room a sense of understated elegance.

The kitchen was a damn dream. With sleek, custom cabinetry painted in a soft dove gray and expansive white quartz countertops, it was both practical and beautiful. A large island sat at the center, big enough for several people to gather around with its high-top barstools. The island was topped with a waterfall edge, the quartz cascading down the sides in a beautiful, smooth finish. The appliances were top-of-the-line stainless steel, seamlessly integrated into the cabinetry, and there was huge stove, double ovens, and a built-in wine fridge.

The kitchen flowed into a cozy breakfast nook, complete with a round table that looked out through large windows to the backyard.

And what a backyard it was.

Through the oversized glass doors, you stepped out onto a wide stone patio that extended the entire length of the house. There was an outdoor kitchen with a built-in grill, sink, and refrigerator. The patio opened up into an immaculately landscaped backyard. A sparkling pool was the centerpiece, with its sleek, modern design framed by stone and shaded by large oak trees. The pool had a built-in hot tub that flowed seamlessly into the main swimming area, the water cascading over the edges in a gentle, soothing sound.

Near the pool, a stone fireplace sat surrounded by a circle of comfortable outdoor lounge chairs, creating a cozy space for gatherings on cooler evenings. Beyond the perfectly manicured lawn, you could see the Colorado River glimmering in the sunlight. A small path led down to a private pier, where a few lounge chairs and a small dock were set up. It was the perfect place for fishing, launching a kayak, or just sitting by the water, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

As you made your way back inside, Jensen led you upstairs to the second floor. The gallery overlooked the living room and kitchen below, and the sleek iron railing contrasted beautifully with the rich wood floors. Upstairs, there were four spacious bedrooms, each designed with large windows that brought in natural light. The master bedroom was the best, with a private balcony that offered sweeping views of the backyard and the river. Inside the master bedroom, there was an oversized walk-in closet with built-in shelving and enough space for even the most elaborate wardrobe.

The bathroom was pure luxury, with a deep soaking tub set beneath a large window that looked out onto the treetops, offering a serene view. The large walk-in shower was framed in glass, with modern tile and a rainfall showerhead.

Two of the additional bedrooms shared a bathroom, each with its own vanity area but connected by a shared shower and tub. The fourth bedroom had its own private bathroom, perfect for guests or a teenager seeking a bit of privacy.

Downstairs, there was another guest bedroom with a private bathroom, ensuring that any visitors would have their own space. The laundry room was large and functional, with plenty of counter space for folding clothes, built-in cabinets for storage, and a deep sink. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the house, making it both convenient and out of sight.

The house was a perfect blend of modern luxury and comfortable living. It felt like a home designed not just for show but for a life filled with love, family, and friends. The balance of open, inviting spaces and private, cozy areas made it ideal for both intimate moments and large gatherings.

Jensen walked behind you as you wandered through the house, your eyes soaking in every detail. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, a reassuring presence as you moved from one room to the next. You could feel his anticipation, the way he waited for your reaction with every step, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

As you reached the spacious living room, you stopped for a moment, taking in the incredible view of the backyard and the river beyond. It was perfect—almost too perfect, like something out of a dream. The kind of house that felt like it could hold so much life, so much love. You turned back to Jensen, and he was already watching you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of affirmation.

“What do you think?”, he asked quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of nerves and hope.

You blinked, your mind racing as you tried to put your feelings into words. It wasn’t just about the house—it was about the life he was offering you, the future he was imagining for the two of you. And that future was starting to look more real, more tangible, with every step you took through this house.

“It’s…”, you paused, trying to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the gravity of it all. “It’s beautiful, Jensen. I mean, it’s perfect. I don’t even know what to say”.

Jensen’s face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wanted something that felt right for us”, he said, his hand still resting on your back. “Somewhere we can build a life. And… I wanted you to be part of that decision. I didn’t want to do this without you”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you realize just how serious he was about this—about you. You turned to fully face him, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you.

Jensen's gaze softened even more, the nervousness giving way to something deeper—an earnest vulnerability. He stepped closer, his hand brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as he spoke, his voice quiet but filled with intent.

“Even though I can’t buy it just yet”, he began, his thumb gently tracing your cheek, “if you like it—if you can see us here—I’ll take a hold on it. I want this place to be ours, but only if you can see it too”.

You felt your heart skip a beat. The house was beautiful, but it was more than just a place—it was a symbol of everything he wanted to build with you. The life you both dreamed of but hadn’t quite dared to fully imagine until now. His words hung in the air between you, charged with the weight of what this meant for your future.

You looked around once more, taking in the expansive living room, the warm sunlight filtering in through the tall windows, the view of the Colorado River in the distance. It was everything you could have imagined, and more. But what made it truly perfect wasn’t just the house itself, but the idea of sharing it with him—building a life here, together.

“I can see us here”, you whispered, turning back to him, your voice thick with emotion.

Jensen’s face lit up, his relief and happiness so palpable that it made your heart swell even more. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the tension he had been holding onto melt away.

“Then I’ll make sure it happens”, he murmured against your skin, his arms wrapping around you. “I’ll put a hold on it. This will be our home, I promise”.

You couldn’t help but smile wider at his words, your heart racing with excitement and love. The future suddenly felt less scary and more like a promise—one you were both ready to keep.

As the moment between you and Jensen hung in the air, Jared, who had been lingering quietly in the background, finally decided it was time to make his presence known. He cleared his throat dramatically, stepping into the living room with an exaggerated grin plastered on his face.

“Well”, Jared began, clapping his hands together with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Look at you two, playing house already. I knew I was tagging along for something juicy”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jared’s playful tone, while Jensen rolled his eyes, clearly anticipating the teasing that was about to come.

Jared walked around the room, spreading his arms wide as he admired the house. “I mean, this place is ridiculous. I’m talking perfect. You guys will have to fight me to keep me from moving in. I can already see myself in that pool, cocktail in hand. You’ll never get rid of me!”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah, well, if you show up uninvited, I’ll be sure to have the pool drained”, he teased, earning a chuckle from you.

Jared put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Oh, come on! That’s no way to treat your future houseguest slash best man slash live-in nanny for the kids”, he joked, winking at you.

Jensen chuckled at Jared’s antics, but the lightness in his laugh was fleeting. You could sense the shift in his mood as the reality of everything else weighing on him began to creep back in. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing between you and Jared before letting out a soft sigh.

“There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet”, Jensen started, his voice a little more serious now. “Danneel’s been talking about moving back to Austin too, once we sell the house in Fairfield”.

You could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, the uncertainty of the situation hanging in the air.

Jensen glanced at you, his hand finding yours as if he needed that grounding connection. “But.. Even if she doesn’t move back here, though… I’ll figure it out. I’ll move here no matter what. I want to be close to the kids, and to you”, he added, his eyes softening as they met yours. “But if the worst-case scenario happens and she decides to move somewhere else entirely, I’ll find a way to make it work. I’m not going to let her or the situation keep me from living where I want to be, and who I want to be with”.

You felt a wave of relief mixed with the weight of the situation. The fact that Jensen was so determined to move forward, to make Austin home, was reassuring, but you could also sense the strain of it all—the endless negotiations with Danneel, the logistics of parenting, and how it all weighed heavily on his shoulders.

You and Jensen took one last slow walk around the house. The house, with its stunning design and the potential it held for a new beginning, suddenly felt even more significant.

Jensen’s hand remained firmly on your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles as the two of you stepped out into the backyard. The sound of the river flowing softly in the distance mixed with the quiet rustling of the trees. The setting sun cast a golden glow across the landscape, making everything feel peaceful for just a moment.

As you reached the edge of the yard, standing by the path that led down to the private pier, Jensen stopped, turning toward you with a contemplative look on his face. He pulled you close to his side, wrapping his arm securely around you as you leaned against him.

“I know it’s a lot to take in”, he murmured, his voice soft. “But I want you to know that no matter what happens, this is where I want to be—with you”.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. There was still so much uncertainty with Danneel, the kids, and the logistics of everything, but in this moment, all that mattered was the decision you were making together.

Jensen pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he needed the closeness. “We’ll make this work”, he whispered against your hair. “Whatever it takes”.

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. “I believe you”, you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rested your head against his chest.

Jared, who had been quietly watching from the patio, finally broke the silence with a lighthearted chuckle. “Alright, are we done with the heartfelt stuff? Because I’m getting emotional over here”.

As the three of you walked back toward the car, Jensen kept his arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring. Jared kept a light atmosphere as he teased you both, but there was an unspoken understanding between all of you.

Once you all settled back into the car, Jensen started driving, the familiar sound of the engine humming as you headed back to Jared’s place. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows on the road, but inside the car, the mood was light.

Jensen glanced at Jared through the rearview mirror as they drove, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, you told Gen about me and her?”, he asked, keeping his voice casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind it. He wanted to know how much Jared’s wife knew.

Jared grinned in the mirror, clearly enjoying the shift in conversation. “Oh, you mean have I told Gen that you’ve finally got your head out of your ass and found someone who’s way too good for you?”, Jared teased, his tone light but affectionate.

Jensen rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, something like that”.

Jared leaned back in his seat. “Of course I’ve told her”, he said, more seriously now. “She’s happy for you, man. She’s always rooting for you. But you know she’ll want to meet her again”. He nodded toward you with a grin. “Sooner rather than later”. His grin widening as he continued, "Gen knew something was up from the beginning. Right at my birthday party". He gave a knowing glance to Jensen through the rearview mirror, clearly amused by the memory.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, but he already seemed to know where Jared was going with this. "Oh yeah?", he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Dude, Gen figured it out that night. I mean, come on—since when do either of us invite a random person we met while buying alcohol for a party?". He shot you a wink, his grin widening. "You weren’t just some random guest. Gen clocked it right away, knew there was something going on".

You chuckled softly at Jared’s playful tone, feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed at the revelation. You hadn’t realized that it was so obvious from the start, but Jared clearly had a knack for reading people, and it seemed like his wife was just as perceptive.

Jensen laughed, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I thought I was being subtle”.

Jared let out a scoff. “Subtle? Please. You guys had the whole ‘secret glances across the room’ thing going on. Gen saw right through it”. He paused for a moment before adding, more seriously, “And honestly? She wasn’t surprised. She knew for years that things with you and Danneel weren’t working. It was only a matter of time”.

There was a quiet shift in the car after that. Jensen’s expression softened, and you could feel the weight of those words settle in. Jared wasn’t wrong. Jensen’s marriage with Danneel had been rocky for a long time, and now, as everything was coming to a head, it felt like a natural, if difficult, progression.

Jared leaned forward again, his tone more thoughtful now. “Gen’s always said that you deserve to be happy, man. We’ve all seen how hard you’ve worked to make things right with Danneel, but sometimes… it just doesn’t work out. And that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re doing what’s best for you, and now… well, you’ve found someone who makes you happy”.

Jensen glanced over at you for a brief moment, his hand squeezing yours gently before returning to the wheel. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. "I have".

Jared’s grin returned, and he leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with how the conversation had gone. “Just don’t screw it up, man”, he teased lightly.

As December rolled into town, the colder morning outside was forgotten in the warmth of your shared bed. You lay on your stomach, feeling the soft sheets beneath you, tangled around your legs, while Jensen hovered above you, his body radiating heat. He was slightly between your legs, his hands gripping the mattress tightly on either side of your head as his lips moved lazily down your bare lower back. His touch was soft but firm, sending tingles up your spine as he explored every inch of your skin.

His hips brushed against your buttcheek, and just as his teeth gently bit down, causing you to giggle softly, the sound of his phone rang, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

Jensen groaned against your skin, his forehead coming to rest against the small of your back as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course", he mumbled, the frustration clear in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile, turning your head slightly to glance at him. "You going to get that?", you teased, your voice still breathy from the closeness of the moment.

He huffed, his lips brushing against your back one last time before he lifted himself off you, reaching toward the bedside table where his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing slightly.

"It's probably something that can wait", Jensen said, sounding more annoyed than concerned, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He looked at you, his lips curling into a small, mischievous grin as he leaned down again, his lips ghosting over your shoulder.

You turned your head back into the pillow, chuckling. "Are you sure?", you asked, knowing how quickly things could shift, especially with all that had been going on in his life lately.

Jensen hesitated for a moment longer before finally pulling back again, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah, it's nothing that can't wait", he murmured.

His hands slid back down to your hips, his body resuming its position above yours, the closeness and warmth between you quickly reigniting the spark of intimacy. "Now, where were we?", he asked, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzled the back of your neck, his hips pressing closer to yours.

You giggled softly, your body relaxing back into the moment, the world outside once again fading away.

As the quiet moment stretched on, Jensen's closeness grew more intense. You felt the firm pressure of his arousal against you. His breath was warm against your ear, his groans soft but laden with need as he kissed along your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine.

Jensen's hands gripped your hips gently, his movements deliberate as he pressed closer. His lips traced a path from your neck down to your shoulder, each kiss deepening the connection that the morning laziness had already fostered.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, seeing in his eyes a mix of affection and desire that mirrored your own feelings.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat as you pressed yourself back against Jensen, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt natural and intoxicating. His soft groans in response made your heart race, the tension between you building with every touch, every movement.

But then, his phone rang again, the sound breaking through the intimacy of the moment like an unwelcome intruder. Jensen groaned in frustration this time, burying his face in the curve of your neck as the phone continued to buzz insistently.

“Seriously?”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. He kissed your shoulder before sighing deeply, clearly reluctant to let go of the moment.

You giggled softly, feeling his irritation, but part of you was just as frustrated. “You should probably get that”, you whispered, your voice a mix of amusement and disappointment.

Jensen sighed again, reluctantly lifting himself off you, his hand brushing your back one last time before he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted from annoyance to something more serious.

He hesitated for a second, his fingers hovering over the screen before he finally answered. "Yeah?", he said, his tone immediately changing, more alert now.

As much as you wanted to stay lost in the moment with him, you could sense the shift. Something was happening.

While Jensen continued talking with his manager, you tried to quietly slip out of bed, swinging one leg over his hips, intending to get up and make some much-needed coffee. You’d spent way too long in bed, lost in each other, kissing, teasing, and now the morning sun was filtering in through the curtains.

But just as you started to move, Jensen’s hand shot out, gripping your thigh firmly. His touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you froze in place, one leg still draped over him, the other half out of bed. His hand brushed up to your hipbone, fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled you gently closer to him, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as your body followed his lead, your most intimate part mere inches from his face.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a slow grin spreading across his lips as he watched you, fully aware of how flustered you had become. His phone was still pressed to his ear, his voice steady and composed as he continued the conversation with his manager. But his free hand was anything but composed. It moved deliberately, fingers brushing over your hip, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as his thumb began to trace slow circles near your clit, the touch almost too light to be real, yet sending waves of electricity through you. You blushed furiously, your breath catching in your throat. The contrast between the casual way he spoke on the phone and the intimate attention he was giving you sent your mind into a whirlwind of sensation and anticipation.

Jensen's grin widened as he noticed your reaction, his thumb pressing just a little harder, brushing directly over your clit. He kept his eyes on you, his gaze dark with desire, even as he continued speaking in that smooth, calm tone, completely in control of the situation while you were quickly losing yours. The combination of his teasing touch and his playful, confident grin made it impossible for you to think clearly.

Every nerve in your body was attuned to his touch, and as his thumb continued to move in slow, deliberate circles, you could feel your body responding despite the presence of his phone conversation. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a losing battle.

As you hovered over Jensen’s chest, your breath shallow, you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, his gaze flickering between your flushed face and the intimate space between your legs.

Without breaking eye contact, Jensen dipped his thumb inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes darkening with desire. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, your body reacting instantly to his teasing.

Jensen’s lips curled into a grin as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

His thumb moved with a purpose, circling and retreating in a way that was maddeningly perfect. Each motion was calculated to draw out the moment, to intensify your desire without granting the final release.

As you struggled to maintain composure, the sound of Jensen's voice mingled with the sensations he was eliciting. He continued his conversation with his manager, his tone professional despite the intimate situation. "Yes, I've reviewed the schedule for January", he said, his voice steady. "We need to ensure that the production aligns with my current…. commitments. Can we possibly push the filming start by a week?".

His manager’s response was inaudible, but Jensen's slight nod indicated he was listening intently. "Understood", Jensen replied after a moment. "But let's try to negotiate for a bit more flexibility. It's crucial that the dates don't clash".

Throughout the call, Jensen’s thumb paused occasionally, his attention momentarily splitting between you and his professional obligations. Each pause left you anticipating more, the slow burn of need growing with each second of delay.

"Alright, send me the revised schedule once you've had that conversation", Jensen finally said, concluding the call. As he set his phone aside, his full attention returned to you. His grin broadened, aware of the intense state he'd left you in.

"Sorry about that", he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "Let´s get to the important thing". His thumb resumed its slow, deliberate dance, pushing you closer to the brink this time, his gaze locked on yours, reading every reaction, every tremor that coursed through you.

"Focus can be a tricky thing, can't it?", Jensen teased, his words a velvet caress that matched the physical ones. His touch became slightly more insistent, promising that he was now fully present, committed to taking you all the way.

An hour later, the morning had settled into a comfortable rhythm. You sat at your small kitchen island, eating your bowl of cereal, the soft clinking of your spoon against the bowl the only sound in the quiet space. Jensen stood nearby, leaning casually against the counter, a mug of coffee in one hand while his other scrolled through emails on his phone. Every now and then, he'd glance at something on the screen, his brow furrowing slightly as he responded to work-related messages.

Despite the quiet, there was an easy, intimate vibe between the two of you. Occasionally, Jensen would lean over toward you, wordlessly opening his mouth as if expecting you to offer him a spoonful of your cereal. You chuckled at his unspoken request, shaking your head but obliging him nonetheless. You scooped up a bit of cereal and brought the spoon to his mouth, which he took with a playful grin.

"You're like a child sometimes", you teased, rolling your eyes as he chewed thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the bite.

"Well, you picked a good cereal", Jensen quipped, his voice casual, though there was a soft affection in his tone. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes returning to his phone, though you could tell he wasn’t completely absorbed in work—there was still a lightness about him that hinted he was still mentally with you.

"So, anything exciting in your emails?", you asked, resting your chin in your hand, watching him as he scrolled through his inbox.

"Just more scheduling", Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trying to make sure everything’s set for January when filming starts again. There’s always something". He put his phone down for a moment and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. "But I’d rather be here with you than thinking about work".

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It was these little moments that made everything feel so easy and real between the two of you—simple mornings like this, where the world outside the kitchen didn't matter much.

"Well, if you keep stealing my cereal, you’ll definitely be here a while", you joked, pushing the bowl slightly toward him.

Jensen chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, then". He took another sip of coffee, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, the weight of his words settling between you both in a way that was both reassuring and meaningful.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed

[theautismcorner]

I was talking to my lovely friend about this so I thought I would share:

Warning for Arcane spoilers!!!

I understand being upset about Ekko not getting a happy ending and about Singed getting his happy ending but I think you guys are also kind of missing a crucial point to the story of arcane as a whole. People in real life don't always get what they deserve - good people don't always get good things and bad people don't always get bad things. Arcane is showing you that harsh reality. We don't always get what we deserve, we are all imperfect, and we all make mistakes. Before I get into this next part i want to say that I am not excusing anyones actions but I am explaining them. You can feel however you want about all of these. Viktor thought he was helping people but he was mistaken. Cait was forced into a position she didn't want while she was grieving and made mistakes due to her mental state. Vi made the mistake of leaving Powder which led to her becoming Jinx and them becoming estranged. Powder made a mistake with that bomb which killed her friends and caused the death of Vander and Vi leaving her. Hell - Silco made many mistakes while he was trying to keep his promise to free Zaun (which I have a lot of thought on - maybe that will be a different post). EVERYONE in this show has made mistakes and that's what makes them feel so real and relatable. Humans make mistakes. And no, life is not fair. Powder and Vi deserved to grow up with a mom. Ekko deserved to have someone after all he did to save everyone. Sky did not deserve to die. Viktor deserved to be remembered for all of the good he did but his name was probably not written on a memorial paper and he will be remembered just as a villain. Mel finally lived up to her mothers expectations but her mom died in the process, leaving her with no one after everything was over and she didn't deserve that. I could keep going on forever about all of this but I think y'all get my point by now. Life is imperfect and I love Arcane for showing us this.

[midnight-bay-if]

How would each RO respond to getting the shovel talk from Alek?

S: From the moment they began dating you seriously, they anticipated it. Alek has watched the progress of your relationship with some trepidation, and although S wouldn't go so far as to ask for permission to court you, they are old-fashioned in many respects. Alek is the closest thing to a parental figure you have; it's important to them that Alek approves of your relationship.

"I can assure you, Detective Graves, my intentions are sincere, and my interest good intentioned. I am flawed and imperfect and will most likely misstep on multiple occasions. But know that should I falter, should my knees buckle or my feet stumble, I will not drag MC down to my level. Instead, I will raise them above me with a reassuring word, or a listening ear, and I will always match their pace."

"I do not speak these words lightly," they continue, staring directly into Alek's eyes. "MC deserves to be happy. It would be my immeasurable pleasure if they deemed me worthy of such an honour."

Rain: They feel as if they've been trapped in Detective Grave's interrogation room and are uncertain why. Alek cornered them not long after making your relationship official, with threats of violence they hope are Alek's attempt at humour.

"...so if you ever hurt them," Alek warns, pointing a finger close to Rain's nose, "they'll be hell to pay."

"Understood, sir," Rain agrees, nodding readily out of reflexive fear... before stopping. "But... it took us great courage to enter this partnership. I fear we are both still learning what that means. I love MC. They are the current that keeps me afloat. Without them, I fear I would drown."

"But I do not yet know the depth of MC's feeling. They are the captain at the helm of this ship. I go wherever they take me, and I do so as readily as the tide comes to shore. All of this to say, I am theirs. I will always be theirs."

Taj: Family is important. So, it's really no surprise when Alek corners them, threatening acts of bodily harm should their new relationship with MC end in heartbreak. Alek may not be your family by blood, but it's pretty obvious he views you as if you were. Taj is dangerous, and they lead a perilous life. It's good to know there is someone else watching out for you.

Not that Alek's entitled to know that.

"Look, I get it," Taj begins, already irritable, "We had a rough start. You saw the worst of it. But there was so much you didn't see. You didn't see the mocking remarks turn to playful laughter, or the heavy tension turn to comfortable silence. I was an ass, but they saw past the cracks in my walls to the fuckin' terrfied person trapped inside. I'm grateful for that."

"So don't presume to think you have it all figured out. You haven't seen the way they smiles when we're alone."

N: "Oh, this is adorable," N goads in the face of Alek's threats. "Do go on about how you intend to maim me should I in any way bring harm to MC. It's terribly amusing."

None of this was the right thing to say; N knows that. It's not what Alek wanted to hear, and it would have been all too easy to placate them with some insipid speech about their good intentions towards you. But why should they? Alek is not owed that from them. Why should he be the first to hear such words from his lips? Such things should be saved and savoured by the only person who should care to listen to them. You.

"Do continue thinking of me as some sinister rake. It will only make MC's whispered promises in the dark all the sweeter."

Umbra: Anything involving you is taken very seriously by Umbra. So when Alek pulls them to one side with a severe expression on his face, Umbra follows. Alek confronts them, squeezing their shoulder threateningly and demanding explanations they don't know how to voice the answer to. It's intimidating. Not because Umbra is afraid of Alek, but because they do not know how honest they should be.

Is it wise to admit they would be willing to kill for MC's happiness? Is that normal? It feels like it would be all too easy now that they are yours. To slip a knife between the ribs of whoever would dare to hurt you.

Perhaps it's safer to admit another truth.

"I would fall on my own blade before I let myself hurt MC, sir."

[cvnntagious]

i just love how bd!matt still calls brat!reader 'baby'🫠

i wanted to ask... are b!reader's parents rich or something, for her to be like a "rich brat girl" (I see her attitude that way, I don't know if I'm explaining myself well😔) or shes just like that bc she wants to

first, i love it too ! i feel like it says a lot about him. second, this is up for interpretation, so you don't have to take what i'm ab to say at face value if you'd prefer to view this differently !!

but i'm thinking she's a little more on the side of just being that way, not even really 'cause she wants to. her parents are well off, yeah, and she grew up in a two story house with a dad who constantly told her 'no man will ever be good enough'. of course, under normal circumstances, the compliment would've just been something be thankful for and brush off, but they ended up really going to her head and setting her standards (not that it's really a bad thing).

she 100% told matt at least once in their relationship before they broke up that she deserved better unprovoked even though he was literally doing everything in his power to make her happy 😭

[thatshadowcomic]

Sonadow fan child mega dump

Still working on the ideas, still not 100% sold on a name... Im trying to picture Sonic and Shadow's playful banter on kids names, making fun of each other's suggestions.

Naming:

I originally thought Sky or Star or even "Terra" which is Earths name. You guys gave a lot of really good ideas, too, thank you so much!!Sunny is cute, too and Rouge calls Shadow "sunshine" a lot. Maybe something to do with water or planetary stuff, given Shadow would have looked out of the ARK with Maria a lot.

I even thought about "beauty and the beast", naming her bell relating to how Bell was "like maria" or rather, the concept of clarity bells and chimes and the sound/mysticism of bells in history as spiritually healing.

Plus it's funny to think of her being like Sonic and pulling a "DING! times up!" and destroying Eggman's future projects.

"Beauty and the beast?? Isnt Maria your sister--" "I won't entertain your crude humor. Bell accepted the beast for who he was, not what he was called or what he looked to be. Despite what she was told about him, she wanted to offer him a chance to be happy. A chance we all deserve... Regardless how it ends, the beauty of that story, at least to me, is not the romance, it's about love. Love isn't strictly romantic. She saw his heart and showed it to him, and he learned that the world might label you, but it's you who decides to accept or deny that label." "Heh, you should start a podcast-- call it stuck in a PODcast :)" "I hope she get's my humor." "And what humor is that?" "I can be very funny, Sonic. You're just... too slow." ":0"

Story one, the failed son:

He's created in the lab, hidden from GUN, but using their resources. Shadow's basically desperate because a child, to him, represents Sonic's immortality. Sonic will die one day, and Shadow fears what that means--but he also is living through the child. He wants a better version of himself, a "pure" one.

Doom's blood is removed, but several embryos fail completely. He finds a new "stabilizer" in the way of a chaos emerald shard, which Sonic would have never allowed, had he known. I think at some point Shadow would become as obsessed as Gerald, which causes Sonic to back off a bit...

Basically this creates a chain reaction:

Shadow abandons the kid with Sonic, after Sonic learns about the shard and warns Shadow that this could be a disaster. Shadow hides on the ARK, fearful that one day he will be the only one strong enough to destroy/stop his child, should he lose control to the Chaos energy coursing through him. Using the power only harms him, but really, it's turning him into a uncontrollable vessel of chaos, like biolizard.

Somehow Shadow hopes that losing any attachment to the kid will allow his destruction to be easier, but to Sonic, he gave up, accepting the kid as doomed. Sonic resents this deeply, even if he doesnt outright say it...He wonders if Shadow could have helped him manage his powers.

Ultimate power:

In reality, the child's need for validation is the very reason he would lose control in the first place, desperate to control his powers. Sonic would try to convince him he can just be his normal self, not to use the powers, as they damage him each time. But the kid eventually loses it and tries to draw shadow out of the ARK by destroying everything he can, until Shadow can see him from space.

"You love this planet more than me... Then defend it, coward--"

Damn, the fight scene would be awful-- I picture him warping in and just decking the kid, how heart wrenching. I'm sure Sonic would be stuck between, unsure what to do. I'm not sure how it ends?

Myabe they remove the emerald and he dies? or he becomes goop like Chaos? maybe a chao egg is left behind, which might hint at something bigger within Shadow himself??

Idea two, Birth:

Basically, Shadow's body evolves to grow an egg, maybe a normal Blackarm's thing that happens from time to time, maybe something to do with some Blackarms leftover idk, but point is he ends up hiding and pretending to be at GUN or on missions until finally Sonic tries to track him down and finds him laying in some forest, in labor. Technically this is Mpreg, but visually they look the same.

He reassures him, but Shadow can't understand why sonic isn't horrified.

"What do you want me to do, call you a freak and leave? I'm sure all mobians are freakish to humans, just like humans are freakish to mobians-- Hey, my little brother has two tails with a messed up joint that lets him fly! And your dad turned into a giant demonic root ball, even that comet was made of living goop all glued together, Shadow--laying an egg is the least of your worries!"

He jokes that he can have a melt down about the pregnancy being hidden later on, instead he'd rather focus on helping him. He has 3 small eggs but one begins to grow roots like the Blackarms and it takes over the other two, only making Shadow more distressed.

He wonders about taking it to the ARK, working with the commnader until they can determine that it's safe, but Sonic jokes, "You can try, but you know I won't let you take 'em, hehehe" But Shadow can feel the serious threat underlying. He doesn't want it to be treated like a monster either and wonders what the best course of action is.

"Do you really think humanity will accept this child if it looks anything like the Blackarms? If I looked any more like them?"

Story elements:

A lot of this story would be focused on Shadow's gradually rising tension as the egg grows, while sonic seems to be in a weird state of normalcy, but also struggling to actually comfort Shadow.

"Yknow, knuckles was born in an egg." "Sonic... we have no idea what's inside of this... I wasn't suppose to be fertile, let alone this! This sint a joke, sonic! What twisted creature could come from this-- what if this is just another facet of Doom's plan?! I already lost control of my mind, now I don't even have control over my body?!" Maybe Shadow and the commander already talked. He'd want to know why Shadow's suddenly requesting so much time off, only for the professor and Shadow to reveal everything. To their shock, the commander would support shadow... "Maria was like a sister to both of us... I think in her eyes... this might be my niece or nephew." The words make shadow tense, he wasn't prepared for this conversation, let alone the commander's unusual response. "You know I hate failing, Shadow-- Ive already failed her enough. I won't fail anymore. *Ahem* I expect a full report, given you've already met my grandchild..."

Remember, the commander offered shadow to come see his grandchildren in shadow the hedgehog (2004), so I'd like to think he's trying really hard to be better.

Really feeling this scheme

Guys can you help me with sonadow baby names

I have no idea what to say, but I want it to feel meaningful to Shadow, but maybe they have a real name and a "cool" name, like Sonic, Tails, y'know?

Might go with a girl? I just wanna make one to know what that looks like.

Thinking Navy. Maybe Ashen color. I think there'll start Ashen purple, later becoming darker, indigo-navy color, possibly stripes but idk, they would still have Blackarms DNA

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The thing is, Evie knows she’s a pushover.

She’s loud, sure, once she gets to know someone, and she likes to laugh and needle and tease, but she isn’t brave, not really. Last week when her chem partner hadn’t written his half of their assignment Evie had written it for him even though it took all night because she figured it was better than confronting him. When she was in second grade and Trip Lewitt stole her lunch every day for a year she never once stood up to him, and last Tuesday when Sandy had asked to borrow her lipgloss and hadn’t given it back, Evie hadn’t said a word.

So yeah, she’s a pushover and she knows it. But the thing is, she doesn’t need to be brave because she has Steve. 

Steve, who had given her his jacket and let her sleep in his car because she was nodding off in math after she was up all night writing that paper. Steve, who had pushed Trip Lewitt into the chain link fence when he caught him snatching her lunch one day and then made him eat dirt. Steve, who could tell she was put out about something last week even if he didn’t know exactly what so he’d bought her a milkshake and it meant she’d had just enough change to replace her lipgloss herself.

Steve Randle is the furthest thing from a coward Evie has ever met. He’s so brave she doesn’t need to be, but sometimes he makes her brave too. 

They’ve been friends for as long as Evie can remember. Her mom used to be friends with Steve’s mom before Steve’s mom left him behind, ensuring Evie would hate her forever even if she’ll never see her again. Evie’s been around long enough that Mr. Randle knows who she is- a rare feat from the man who goes from loving his son one day to hating him the next. Steve has slept over at her house, she’s bought him birthday gifts every year since she got her first job at twelve, and everyone always assumes they’re dating because he’s protective in a way most guys only get around their girls. 

They’re not dating though. It isn’t like that. She’s not in love with Steve, has never loved anyone that way; and Steve only has eyes for his blonde haired best friend who loves him but not enough, not like Steve loves him, in the kind of way that makes the world shake. 

Even still, she usually tells Steve everything. He’s her best friend even if she isn’t his, and she needs him more than she cares to admit. She never feels safer in the world than when she’s sitting beside him at the drive-in with his jacket around her shoulders, or throwing fries at him at the diner while they shit talk Sodapop’s latest girlfriend or scheme how to prank their horrific spanish teacher. 

Right now he’s down the hall half wrestling with Sodapop and Johnny Cade, laughing and as happy as he ever gets. She could join them if she wanted to, just walk up and say hello and she’d be safe. Steve would take one look at her and know something was wrong, even if she tried to hide it, and he’d walk her to class with an arm around her shoulders and a murderous glare on his face he’d give to anyone who dared glance in her direction.

As she watches, Sodapop ruffles Steve’s hair and he beams. It lasts half a second before it’s replaced with his usual scowl, but it’s enough for Evie to make a decision. He just looks so happy. Even on a good day Steve is probably one of the saddest people she’s ever met, and it drives her half crazy sometimes because if anybody deserves the truest happiness the world has to offer it’s stubborn, gentle, scowling, deadly kind Steve Randle. The fact that this kind of lightness in him is so rare is a travesty, and she won’t be the one to ruin it. She can’t. She won’t.

She sighs and pulls the sleeve of her shirt down further. Not that anyone would notice the bruise on her wrist anyway, but the purple is ugly and Sandy always says purple isn’t her colour. 

*********************

“I was thinkin’ we should maybe go to that drag race out by the rodeo grounds this weekend when I get off work. I heard from Cindy who’s sister is going with Two-bit Mathews that Sodapop’ll probably be there an’ I want him to see me in that new skirt I got.”

Sandy is jabbering on about her latest plan to attract the attention of one Sodapop Curtis- an unfortunate recent development that has left Evie between a rock and a hard place between trying to keep Sandy away from Soda while not spilling why she’s so against her friend pursing the blonde. Luckily, Sodapop is a typical idiotic fifteen year old, and barely has eyes for anyone longer than a week, and as such, has not yet noticed- or responded to- any of Sandy’s advances. Evie can see this, but whenever she points it out Sandy reminds her that she has an advantage other girls don’t considering Evie’s boyfriend is Sodapop���s best friend. She refuses to believe that Steve isn’t Evie’s boyfriend, and further refuses to believe that despite how close Evie is to Steve, she has little more than an acquaintance with the Curtis boy. 

It’s only a matter of time before she asks Evie to try and get Steve to convince Soda to go on a double date with them, in which case Evie will refuse without an explanation and Sandy will give her the silent treatment for a week. Evie’s trying not to think about it.

“Sure,” she agrees half heartedly, dodging the stuck out foot of some soc girl as they make their way down the hall, “I’m coverin’ the evenin’ shift for Corrin though so I might not be able to stay-”

She cuts herself off abruptly, books tumbling out of her arms as she locks eyes with him.

He’s standing in a group of football players, a junior to her sophomore, and he’s big, terrifyingly so, muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. Half the hallway had turned at the commotion of her dropping her books but he hardly spares her a glance, blue eyes glinting cruelly as he gives her an unimpressed once over and turns back to his friends. 

It’s yet another slight, another reason for her to despise him though it does nothing to assuage her fear. She still remembers the feel of him pinning her against a locker, remembers the feel of his hot breath against her ear and the way his friends had jeered and catcalled, names she was used to but that stung all the same.

She doesn’t have to remember the terror- she’s feeling it again right now.

“-vie? Evie? Hello?” Sandy is giving her an exasperated look, Evie’s discarded books are piled in her arms- when did she pick them up? “Earth to Evie! Are you back with us?”

She sounds annoyed but her eyes are dart to a group of senior soc girls who are giggling and whispering behind their hands, then to the football players and him. Sandy’s nervous, she realizes, and then realizes why. They’re already at enough of a disadvantage being greasy girls. They can’t afford to be weird too, and Evie’s already enough of a freak as it is. 

“Sorry,” she forces a smile, takes her stack of books with trembling hands, “sorry I just got a wicked headache all of a sudden.”

“You’re probably dehydrated,”  Sandy seizes her arm and practically drags her down the hallway, head high even as a wave of giggle and whispers claw at them, “it’s thirty degrees out, an’ you’re wearin’ long sleeves like you ain’t never seen Oklahoma summer before.”

“Yeah,” Evie ignores the twinge of her wrist and the pounding of her heart, “I bet that’s it.”

*****************

She spends the rest of the day jumpy and tense. Sandy tires of her newfound jitters quickly and jumps on an invitation from Kelsey Morrone to go out for a smoke a little too eagerly. Evie hardly has it in herself to mind.

She doesn’t start to calm down until last period and it’s only because Mr. Horton’s geography class is so boring it trumps all other emotions. Sandy isn’t in this class either, which means they can’t even write notes to pass the time.

Her anxiety ramps up the second the bell rings. She’s all too aware of the possibility she might run into him in the hallway, and everything in her screams that that cannot happen. She takes extra care as she packs away her things, prolonging the inevitable, and then regrets it when she realizes she has no crowd to blend into as she steps into the hallway. Luckily her locker isn’t too far from the math wing, so she keeps her head down and walks quicker than usual and makes it there without any further disaster.

It’s not until the familiar scent of motor oil and fabric softener envelops her and she feels a slight tug on her braid that she finally relaxes. 

“Hey doll.”

“Hey yourself,” she swats at Steve halfheartedly, tucking her braid back behind her ear from where he’d tossed it over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he takes her hand gently- he’s always gentle with her- and pushes her sleeve up slightly, revealing the horrible mottled purple and blue bruise, “what happened?”

All day she’d sat next to Sandy and she hadn’t noticed a thing. Not a single teacher had glanced at her twice, not even when her english teacher handed back their essays and her sleeve had slipped, and yet Steve had noticed within the first minute of being here.

She looks into his eyes, at the anger hiding beneath his concern, at the scowl twisting his face that had been so happy just this morning, and makes a decision.

Even if she’s spent most of her day waiting for a chance to talk to him, she can’t let Steve Randle fight her battles forever. 

“Nothing,” she pulls her hand away and pulls her sleeve back down, “don’t worry about it.”

“Evie-”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, “it’s fine, really. What’s up?”

“I wanted to know if you an’ Sandy wanted a ride home.” He says, eyes still locked at where her bruise is hidden away under blue fabric. She can tell he desperately wants to ask for more details, just like he knows that she won’t offer any. 

“Ain’t you playin’ chauffeur to your buddies?”

“Not today,” he shakes his head, black hair glinting in the afternoon sun as they meander out the doors. He takes her backpack without seeming to think about it, slinging over his shoulder, and Evie hides her amusement at the fact that for all he’s a tough greaser he’s secretly a gentleman, “Two-bit’s takin’ the kid and Johnny, an’ Soda’s walkin’ over to the DX for work.”

“Well Sandy’s got plans with Carmen,” Evie tells him, “But I wouldn’t say no to a ride.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders when she mentions Sandy’s busy. It’s no secret he’s not exactly a fan of her, thinks she’s sharper than she needs to be with Evie and hates her for it, the stupidly protective person that he is, not realizing that’s just who Sandy is. Still, it was nice of him to extend the invitation to her in the first place. She wonders for the millionth time how Steve got a reputation for being an asshole when he does stuff like offer a girl he hates a ride home without thinking, just because she’s a friend of Evie’s. 

“You wanna stop for a milkshake on the way home?” Steve asks, tossing their bags in the back seat, and rolling down the window. If it was hot outside, it’s a million degrees in the car, but she fights the urge to roll up her sleeves, not wanting to give him a better look at her bruise if she can help it. “I’ll pay.”

She considers his offer. First of all, damn him for knowing her so well- ice cream has always been her biggest weakness. Normally she’d say yes without hesitation, but his offer today is very obviously a ploy, a scheme, a bribe if you will, to trick her into talking about the bruise and Him, and she has decided already that she won’t. To sit across from Steve, while he looks at her with sad eyes and tries to sweet talk her into talking is not part of her plan. 

“Not today,” she shakes her head and offers him a smile, “I'm beat.”

“I can see that,” he mutters under his breath, but doesn’t protest, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

It’s a quiet ride home. Normally they’d chat and tease each other, but Steve’s mood is sour and she’s hesitant to start a conversation because she’s famously bad at keeping secrets and Steve knows that better than anyone. If he got her talking, sooner or later she’d let something slip and all bets would be off.

Fifteen minutes later he pulls up in front of her house and cuts the engine with a sigh.

“Thanks for the ride,” she presses a kiss to his cheek and goes to leave.

“Wait, Eves,” he catches her hand, the rough calluses on his skin at odds with the softness of the movement, “just- you know I got your back, right? No matter what.”

He’s so earnest, so worried. 

“Yeah,” she smiles, heart swelling with gratitude for this dumb boy who came into her life and never thought once about leaving, “I know.”

He holds her gaze a moment more and nods, clearing his throat abruptly.

“I’ll give you a ride to school tomorrow. Sandy’s welcome too if she wants.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, squeezing his hand and trying to put all her gratitude into it before she lets him go, closing the door gently behind her.

He doesn’t drive away until she’s safely inside, the door locked behind her. He never does.

***********

“Mornin’ doll.”

“Mornin’,” she hands him a piece of still warm bannock wrapped in a tea towel, and he shoves half of it into his mouth in one bite, humming appreciatively. If there’s one thing she knows Steve loves, it’s her mom’s baking.

He inhales the rest of the bread before speaking.

“Sandy comin’?” 

“Nah, she’s gettin’ a ride with Carmen.”

He nods and starts the engine, the car coming to life with a purr. It’s not as quiet as some of the socs fancy ass cars, but it’s the quietest tin can in all the east side and it’s all because of Steve’s magic with mechanics. She always feels an unearned swell of pride on his behalf whenever she sits in this car, stupid as it is.

It’s not until they’re halfway to Will Rodgers that she notices Steve’s hands are torn up and bruised, every knuckle split. 

They definitely weren’t like that yesterday.

“You get into a rumble or somethin’ last night? What happened to your hands?”

“Oh, that,” Steve waves a ruined hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it.”

“Steve-”

“Evie-” he mocks, flipping their argument from yesterday, “really. It’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine, that ain’t what I asked!”

He pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine before turning to her with a sigh, 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I heard a rumour somewhere that some of the football team- a certain captain in particular- have started to get a bit brazen in how they’ve been treating some east side girls. And Sylvia Devares seemed to think maybe Angel had mentioned something about you showin’ up late to spanish last week and shaking like a spooked horse. So me’n the boys decided it was time to have a little talk with the dear captain and his buddies.”

“You didn’t have to do that," gratitude and shame swirl in her gut, “I can’t expect you to fight my battles forever.”

He lets out an inelegant snort.

“Of course you can,” he says, so matter-of-fact she couldn’t argue with him if she wanted to, “I meant what I said yesterday: I always got your back. Always. Even if you don’t wanna talk about things, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Yeah, she realizes, he really is, always has been always will be. It doesn’t matter if she’s a pushover or not, he’ll always have her back.

How did she get so lucky?

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Think of reading things I write like a scavenger hunt where only I know what you're looking for. <3

Chapter Title from Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party.

Word Count: 26.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben return home, and it's time to work. Usual warnings.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 28 - Chapter 30

Ben didn’t like having to hide Her.

He didn’t like keeping Her fucking secret. She shouldn’t be secret. Ben should be able to hold Her high to the sun, so she can be in a warm, clear, unwavering light that didn’t flicker or wash out a single feature of her perfect face. The lights of the airplane cabin and airport were too fucking blue, flickering and making everything have a sense of being artificial. None of this shit should be artificial, because this was the realest thing in Ben’s life, and he wanted to tell the sky and stars and every space between about it.

Ben should be able to stand up and fucking roar that She wanted him. That they were going to get married, and there wasn’t a single goddamn thing any pussy fucker could do about it, because She’d chosen him. She was wearing the ring Ben had bought her, and holding his hand, and sleeping against his chest. There was a little drool falling out of her perfect mouth and staining Ben’s shirt, and her arms were wrapped around his torso, and her completely relaxed face was pressed into his body. Because She’d fucking chosen Ben. He kept her safe, and happy, and made her feel loved like she deserved to be, so She’d chosen Ben.

And he wanted to fucking scream that. That the most perfect, beautiful woman to ever grace this stupid fucking planet wanted him. That every fucking way, She wanted Ben. And now Her beauty was everyone’s to see, but only Ben’s to hold. To care for and adore. Only Ben got to see Her wild, glossy eyes and her parted, swollen lips when he fucked her. Only Ben got to touch the softest, most vulnerable and delicate pieces of her heart and mind, because she trusted him to tend to them and sooth them over. And only She got to see the parts of Ben nobody had been ever meant to witness. The storm that she’d coaxed out of him, that would sweep over his body and make him momentarily so fucking weak, and that she’d wait out with him until it passed. She’d let Ben rest his head near Her heart—where he could be a little more certain she was real—and sing to him until there wasn’t a swell in his throat and the world wasn’t blurred around him. Until he stopped making wrathful, pathetic fucking sounds he muffled in Her skin, and then could stay there a long while after.

Forever. She was going to be able to hold Ben like that for fucking ever. She’d have likely done that anyway—Ben was never going to let that piece of Her, alive inside him, wither and crack and shatter—but now he’d be able to walk into a stupid, disgusting gas station and know that everyone could see She’d chosen him. Ben could pick her a million flowers, plant Her a goddamn garden—have MM plant Her a garden, Ben didn’t actually know how to do that—and if people tried so say something he could shout that it was for his wife. He was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted for his wife. Whatever She asked of him, Ben would do.

Because She’d still give all Her beauty away to whoever asked for it—She’d cut herself open and offer kindness to assholes who didn’t deserve it and motherfucking pussies who wasted it, wasted Her—but Ben would throw it right back into her. He’d give Her all the good things he had to offer, because he still didn’t really deserve her, but he did fucking love her, and Christ, he had to make that worth something. Make it worth what She was, which was everything. She was fucking perfect, and she was Ben’s, just as he was Her’s. Ben had Her, he’d always have her, and he would never have to be alone and hated again, because She’d looked at him and decided that he was worth loving a little more than she loved everything else.

A lot more. Ben was pretty fucking certain She loved him a lot more than everything else. That when She’d cling to his arm like he might drift away, or kissing over his beard with soft lips and mumbled words of affection that made Ben’s whole fucking body even more of a tool for her to use, it was because she loved him a lot more than anything else.

And now Ben had a hacked and carved out path ahead of them where he could keep loving Her until the world burned out. And everyone should fucking know. Everyone should understand that Ben loved Her, and She loved him, and that was that.

But he had to hide Her. Ben had to keep himself angled to block her from view, keep his own baseball cap tilted down to hide his face from view. To hide from every television in the Airport, all playing the same fucking lie, all with Sage’s eyes seeming to track them through the screens. 

The news had broken while they were still in the air. They weren’t even halfway over the Atlantic when She froze at Ben’s side, and he started to feel cold and sick. He’d turned to press for what the fuck was wrong—why her heart was set to a pace that kicked his own up and made blood pound in his ears—and she’d passed him the phone without a word.

On the screen was a photo of Sage standing at a news podium—her expression grim and dramatically pained—and a headline that made Ben’s teeth almost crack.

Sister Sage Accuses the Anomaly of Treason.

The article itself was long and pointlessly detailed. Half of it was just a useless and incorrect timeline of everything about Her, and it took Ben almost two fucking minutes to find what Sage had actually goddamn said. 

She was a terrorist. She had been behind the Believe Expo attack, and Tek Knight massacre, and deaths of Black Noir and A-Train. She was responsible for destruction of numerous properties—Vought, Government, and private owned alike—was a Deep state leader, and had been the mastermind behind the assassinations of Victoria Neuman and Grace Mallory in order to clear the path to the White House. She’d been intending to help her stepfather, Secretary Todd Muller—Sage had implied some truly fucking disgusting things about their relationship that made Ben see red—gain the VP slot, and Her next victim would likely have been President Robert Singer himself if Sage hadn’t outsmarted her and blocked Her plan.

But now Secretary Muller was out of the running—and under federal investigation for co-conspiracy—so Homelander was in contention for the position. And the only way to keep America safe was to appoint him to the White House, because She was evil and powerful, and wanted to take away American liberties.

Sage had apologized for keeping this information secret, but claimed that she’d been trying to prevent public distress or panic. That Vought had been working on a private operation to apprehend Her and bring her to justice following her betrayal of America and Homelander, but had decided She was too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely and without fear of consequence.

Ben was mentioned. She’d run away with Soldier Boy, and turned America’s Son and former greatest patriot into a socialist with the same manipulation tactics she’d used on Homelander. Gotten Soldier Boy to fall in love with her when She’d decided Homelander wasn’t enough for her, and was now trying to use him to fuel her fascist overtaking of the government. She’d gotten Soldier Boy to kidnap Ryan, and he was willing to work with the very people who’d betrayed him in the first place because She’d just sunken her claws that deep.

That last part wasn’t entirely a fucking lie. Ben was working with Butcher and MM and Annie, but Christ, he’d accepted that was his life a long fucking time ago. They weren’t going to put him back in the box, they didn’t even really seem to hate him anymore, and Ben didn’t really hate them anymore. They made Her happy, and that was what fucking mattered.

So She did, in a way, have Her claws in him. Ben would fucking burn the world for Her—he’d do anything for her—so he might have spared Sage’s words a moment of thought if they weren’t fucking stupid. Of course Ben would do anything for Her. She’d do anything for Ben. It wasn’t like she’d just smiled at him once and he’d become a pathetic fucking lapdog.

She’d been something angry and wrapped in fire and smoke, all of it turning Her hollowed and scarred and broken inside, and Ben had been atomic and vigilant and wrapped in blood and wrath, serving him like a shield that kept every pussy who’d try to use him out.

And She’d seen the rotten, furious and bitter parts of him, and not walked away. And Ben had touched Her fire and not flinched. Ben wasn’t worried that he’d ever start to burn without Her there, because he was more fucking worried She’d try to burn without him.

Sage hadn’t put that in her fucking speech. Sage hadn’t mentioned that She was kind, and hilarious, and perfect. That She was self-sacrificial and intelligent, and didn’t manipulate people because She loved people. Sage didn’t mention that She hadn’t stolen Ryan so much as offered the kid some fucking care and affection, or that She hadn’t gotten Ben to fall in love with Her so much as existed near Ben, and been too fucking perfect to not fall in love with.

But Sage hadn’t mention most of the truth. Truth didn’t seem to be something Sage was at all fucking concerned with. Sage alleged that She demanded Homelander give her the V, and only grown more power-hungry after. Sage still didn’t fucking admit that She was stronger than Homelander—who hadn’t been seen since Boston—only saying that She was “dangerous, unstable, and if seen in public should not be approached.”

All of which meant Ben couldn’t fucking tell everyone he was marrying Her. They were wanted terrorists—fucking again—so it wouldn’t be the smartest move to tell everyone in this parking lot that Ben loved with Her and was going to make sure everyone knew that forever.

The team would hear about it, when they got home. They’d probably want to talk about the current, pressing disaster, but they’d have to also hear about how She and Ben were getting married. It would take two goddamn seconds, and if Ben didn’t tell someone by the end of the day, he’d explode.

He’d grumbled that to Her in the car, somewhere on the tree-lined highway, and She’d giggled.

“You know we’ll still be engaged after we deal with this? It’s not something that’s going to expire.”

“When we’re finished with this,” Ben had grunted, squeezing Her thigh under his hand. “We’re getting married. Immediately. And I don’t want to deal with Hughie’s fucking bitching about not getting to be a bridesmaid with Annie on the day.”

“Huh,” She’d still been grinning, and titled her head in mock thought. “I thought you were going to take Annie. She looks good in a suit, and I think her best man speech would be really funny. But if you’d prefer Butcher-“

“Butcher is not my best man.” He’d muttered, shooting Her a glare. “I’ll eat a fucking bomb first-“

“Well he has to go somewhere. My personal vote is flower girl, but I think he’d be a little bitch about it-“

Ben had snorted, and tried not to get too fucking lost in this. How She was talking about it like it was real, and they’d actually have to figure out what to do about Butcher at their wedding, because they would. Ben got to live in a world where he’d have to have William fucking Butcher at his wedding, but he’d be getting married to Her, so it was still goddamn worth it.

And when they parked at Edgar’s farm, he’d kept his hold on Her firm, waiting for her to meet his eyes before he spoke.

“I’m going to tell them.”

She sighed. “I mean, I’m not going to stop you, but I promise you’ll still be able to do that when there isn’t a possible government coup to prevent.“

“I don’t care.” He grunted. “We’re getting married, and they should fucking know that.”

“They will know that, Ben, but it’s not the most pressing issue right now-“

“Yes, it is.” Ben scowled, leaning down to hold Her gaze with his, trying to fucking show her how serious this was to him. “I love you, and I’m going to make it everyone’s problem, Sunshine. Right goddamn now.”

She flushed, mouth falling slightly open, and nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

Ben hummed in triumph, pressing a small, soft kiss to her lips. “Good. Now let’s-“

He had to cut himself off with a groan, because Her hands shot into his hair as she began to try and climb onto him, deepening the kiss. Ben reacted immediately—grabbing her waist and hauling her onto his lap—and let her grind onto him as he matching every roll of her hips with a grunt and thrust until they were dry humping like teenagers.

And he didn’t fucking care. Every breathless sound and gasp of his name was more fucking proof that they belonged to each other. This could be sloppy and uncoordinated and made of pure fucking need and want, because it felt fucking good, and every touch of Her skin—in any fucking form—got Ben high and fueled his love into a roar in his chest he never wanted to silence.

Then Ben heard something crunch on the grass outside, and pulled Her tight into his chest. Sat up with her caged safely in his arms, his body blocking fucking anything that might try to hurt them. Ben might not have a gun, but he had himself. He had this strange new feeling of fucking harmony is his body, where the nuke didn’t feel like a parasite, and the drums didn’t pound and invade his head, but it was just a hum and rush of power. White-hot, blinding fucking power that was hanging off his ribs and alight in his veins.

She’d been instant they should train more, back here in Maine. Where if Ben blew something up, it would just be a tree and not a fucking house or city. And he was ready to get started right fucking now, if whatever was coming dared to even look at Her wrong.

There was a rapping sound on the window, Ben’s fury and instinct of care for Her. Protect Her and love Her and keep her safe prepared itself to shatter the glass and grab the threat by the throat, then immediately faded into the background as he saw Kimiko and Frenchie staring down at them. Kimiko waved and Frenchie tried to hide his rocket launcher behind his back, and Ben sighed.

Ben, who-

Kimiko and Frenchie.

She pushed off Ben’s chest with a whack of his arm, and twisted in his hold to sign at Kimiko with an apologetic expression. Kimiko signed back, pausing halfway through a gesture with an open mouth, and began to sign in fast, frantic movements.

Ben heard Her heartbeat pick up as she and Kimono continued their silent conversation—Frenchie mostly just looking between them and Ben—and frowned.

What the fuck is going on.

She didn’t look away from Kimiko’s movements as She responded in Ben’s head. Frenchie set some silent alarms around the property, we set one off and-

No, Ben grunted Her name in the silence, and Her flush deepened. Why the fuck does Kimiko look like she’s just been hit by a damn car.

She might have seen the ring.

The smug, wide grin that crossed Ben’s face—born from how fucking beautiful she was, and how stupidly goddamn alight his whole body was—could’ve powered a fucking country. It was all energy, all fucking love and visceral goddamn joy. It must have been contagious or something as well, because it made Her whole body relax in Ben’s arms, even as her heart picked up and she made a small, airy, needy sound that only Ben got to hear.

He started to stand, keeping Her carefully against his body and pushing the door open slowly enough for Kimiko and Frenchie to step backward, Kimiko’s gestures coming to a halt and her attention turning to Ben.

“Where the fuck is everyone else.” He grunted, stepping out onto the dirt road. “We’ve got news.”

She rolled Her eyes, Kimiko gave Ben an almost dry look, and Frenchie was very fucking obviously trying not to look at Her hand.

“Ah, we are up there by quite a bit.” Frenchie pointed further down the road, frowning at the tree line. “It is a little bit of a walk-“

“We’ve been sitting for like, fourteen hours,” She squirmed out of Ben’s hold, but still pulled his arm over her shoulder, holding him against Her. “I could go for a walk.” 

“Bien, and the car, Madame-“

“We’ve got bags in it,” She frowned at their stolen Honda, Her fingers tapping over Ben’s. “And they have some, uh, important stuff. So we probably shouldn’t just leave it-“

Kimiko’s hand shot up, and she made a quick gesture with a bright smile.

Frenchie shook his head, his voice tense and apologetic. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive-“

“It’s not like there’s anyone else on the road.” She gave Kimiko grin and shrug, reaching into Ben’s pocket to pull out the keys. “She can go five miles per hour for all I care. As long as she doesn’t drive into the river, she’ll be fine.”

Kimiko nodded eagerly, gave Frenchie a smug look, and moved into the driver’s seat.

“I’ve got my fucking clothing in there-“

She cut Ben off with a wrinkle of her nose. “So have I, Benjamin. It’ll be fine, and you can either be a baby about it here, or come with me and tell everyone that we’re engaged.”

Ben scowled down at Her, and all She did was smile up at him, making his mouth twitch and that radiant feeling grow nuclear in his chest. It was golden, and simple, and so raw and natural Ben couldn’t remember what it was like to have it not living in his body. It was like a star that flared a little brighter under Her attention and love, and it was older and more powerful than any pussy fucking star could dream of.

“Brat,” he muttered, and even his voice sounded like it was crafted from pure goddamn adoration. Like Ben had taken every furious and rough part of himself and turned it into something better. Fury that wasn’t born of hatred, but love and a resolve to keep that love. Of a jagged, stone-like feeling in his mouth and throat that had existed from the start, but had been eroded and found an exception. Ben was wrathful and immovable, but he couldn’t be mad at Her. She giggled, leaning into his side, and Ben moved for Her. He took careful, measured steps that She could always keep up with, and never once let her think she needed to be anywhere but here. With Ben, going to tell their friends that they were going to get fucking married.

Ben had been ready for it to be the first words out of his mouth. To push open the screen door to Edgar’s rickety old farmhouse and yell we’re married, you asshole pussies, so come and tell Her you’re happy for her—They weren’t married yet, but that was just fucking semantics—but he hadn’t accounted for Ryan. The kid was bouncing on the stone stairs, his whole face lighting up when She and Ben came into view, and running at a slightly alarming speed to greet them.

“You’re back!” Ryan slammed into Her first, wrapping her in a hug that had to be a little fucking painful, but only made her smile and squeeze Ryan tighter.

This was very fucking dangerous to Ben. Watching Her smile at Ryan—running her hands through the kid’s hair and hum a soft song that made the whole world seem like it was glowing—made it feel like a real option to drop off the V, tell Butcher to get his shit together, grow some fucking balls, and kill Homelander himself so She, Ben, and Ryan could catch the next flight back to Rome. They could fix up the house more, Ryan could get first choice of a bedroom, and Ben could use retirement to fill up the rest of the house with happy kids that She could sing to.

But Butcher had also been trying to kill Homelander for more than a decade, and hadn’t gotten goddamn close until She and Ben came along. Mostly Her, but Ben had gotten pretty fucking close himself. Butcher, really fucking annoyingly, needed them to help, and the pussy wouldn’t even thank them, but Ben didn’t need his thanks. He needed Butcher to do his goddamn job, so Ben’s whole life could be watching Her and Ryan be happy, and giving them more reasons to be happy.

The rest of the team was starting to walk down the old road to join them, with varying levels of welcoming expressions on their faces. Ryan moved to hug Ben—the radiant feeling in Ben’s body flashing and making his skin feel clean and his chest feel prideful—as She moved a few steps forward to meet Annie’s hug, Hughie waiting sheepishly off to the side until She gestured for him to join them.

“How was Rome? MM said the villa wasn’t a trap, but was it, you know,” Annie pulled out of the hug with a tight expression. “Livable?”

“It should have been. Stan kept all his properties in condition, even the one’s he never visited.”

Ben head shot up at the even, cool voice of Victoria Neuman, and felt his arms tense around Ryan as he leaned forward in an attempt to get just a little fucking closer to Her. Neuman wasn’t a real threat anymore, but he still didn’t fucking trust her, and didn’t want her anywhere goddamn near his family. Ben could certainly fucking feel the wired, taut feeling in Her body as she took Neuman in, and hear the stumble of Her heart in her chest.

“Um, hi.” She pried Herself away from Annie, taking a small step back. Closer to Ben. “What are you doing here?”

“They did an evac operation.” Neuman shrugged. “While you were off in Rome getting engaged, we had to deal with the Mallory fallout. You guys never think about the wider consequences of all your various murders, so now everything is compromised, and the safe house isn’t an exception.”

“Meant to tell you before you got back, but shit got-“ MM cut his tired words off, turning to frown at Neuman. “What did you just say?”

“You idiots don’t have the foresight to be in the business of meddling with politics-“

“Nah, Head-Popper.” Butcher snapped, eyes narrowed and back stiff. “I heard that shit too. The bloody fuckin hell did you say about America’s horniest twats.”

Neuman let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ve told you not to call me head-popper, Butcher, it’s not even true anymore-“

“Right then, Vicky. The fuck you mean gettin engaged-“

“I mean that they got engaged. Does engaged have a different meaning in Britain that I’m not aware of? I mean,” Neuman looked around the group with a surprised expression, attention landing on Her. “You’re wearing a ring. You don’t wear jewelry, and that looks expensive, but you’re wearing it anyway.”

It had been expensive. It had cost a small goddamn fortune, and while there was a flash of satisfied, bright pride that Neuman had noticed, Ben was also going to fucking kill her. Neuman was not meant to be the one that told everyone about this. It was either supposed to be Ben or Her, and because Ben knew his wife—more importantly, because he knew that the only place words seemed to ever fail Her was in relation to Ben—it was supposed to be him. Now everyone fucking knew, and they were gaping like idiots, and Neuman was going to fucking die.

“I, um,” She took another step back as she spoke, directly blocking Ben’s warpath and keeping Her attention on Neuman. “I don’t wear jewelry because it will probably melt. And actually,” She looked to Frenchie, and Ben saw the flash of the metal as she pulled the ring off. “Can you work your magic and make this fireproof? I really don’t want to lose it and we might have already had a,” She cleared her throat, and Ben smirked at her pretty flush. “Close call.”

Her voice had been soft, when Frenchie nodded Her heartbeat slowed, and it made something in Ben yield his wrath. He couldn’t kill Neuman. He probably hadn’t actually been going to kill Neuman—mauling or terrifying had still been on the table—but now She seemed mostly just happy, and that’s all that Ben fucking wanted. 

Annie’s eyes moved to the ring—now in Frenchie’s hands—and she nodded slowly. “Wow. I mean congratulations, but also-“

“Wow.” Hughie echoed, offering Her a close-lipped, anxious smile. “Good job? Is that something I should say good job to? I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as he opened his mouth to say it was a damn good job. Not the time, Benjamin.

They should be saying shit. Why the fuck do they all just look like dumb fucking pussies who’ve never heard of marriage before-

They’re probably just surprised-

Why the hell would they be surprised. Ben glared around the group, speaking with low, gruff words before She had a chance to stop him. “Are any of you fuckers surprised.”

A resounding, annoyed no echoed through the woods and fields around them, and Ben shot the back of Her head a smug grin that She must have felt, because he got flipped off a second later.

Not a word, Benjamin, unless you want to lose my favorite part of you.

Ben chuckled, his grin spreading. I fucking knew it was your favorite-

I was talking about your tongue, Pretty Boy. She took another backwards step, stopping at Ben side and looking up at him with a fake-sweet smile. What were you talking about?

Brat.

Cunt. Her gaze turned back to their friends, and there was a small, pretty frown tugging on her lips. “You guys aren’t surprised at all?”

“Nah, Love,” Butcher shrugged, shooting Her a wink. “I was in the hotel room next to you twats in DC. I’m mostly just fuckin shocked you came back from your sex vacation.”

“It was not a sex vacation, Butcher-“

Frenchie nodded in agreement, cutting Her off with a bright tone. “Oui, Madame, you do not need a vacation for sex. Sex can happen anywhere-“

“Like in my fucking gun range.” MM muttered, and Her face flushed.

“How did you, um, how did you know about that?”

“I told him,” Hughie mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he gave Her an apologetic look. “I mean, not that you had sex, but that you were in the gun range and being kind of weird.”

“We were not being weird-“

MM scoffed. “I saw the security footage,” he said Her name with a pointed expression, She looked down at the floor, and Ben thought it looked a little like a father scolding his daughter for sneaking out of the house. “You motherfuckers were being incredibly weird. I almost threw up before you even started blowing him, and I had to clean my eyes with goddamn bleach after. And I only saw the first three seconds.”

“That’s,” She sighed, tapping her fingers against her palm. “Fair. Sorry.”

“Well, let’s fuckin hope you got it all fucked and out of your bloody systems,” Butcher’s grin becomes a little colder, more set and tight on his face. “Cause this place ain’t soundproof, and if you wake me up with your disgustin fuckin sex, someone’s gettin shot.”

“It’ll probably be you, Butcher.” She said, voice dry and bored. “I don’t think interrupting my husband while he’s balls deep in me is going to end well for anyone.”

Ben tried not to get lost in how fucking good everything felt. How the radiance in his body felt atomic, and might actually fucking be atomic. It felt in time with the nuke, like everything had a goddamn glow that Ben could reach out and grab and use to serve Her. Shield Her and fight for Her and bleed for Her. Protect his wife with, because at this point it was just a fucking formality that they weren’t married. If She was going to call Ben her fucking husband, he’d call Her his wife and never goddamn apologize for it. He’d fucking glow and burn and explode for Her, and then kiss her stupid and moaning after. Make her burst into flames below him and never flinch because the glow in him was for Her, and couldn’t be deterred by stupid shit like fire-

“Are you,” Ryan was looking between Her and Ben with wide eyes, and Ben almost missed his quiet, nervous tone. “Are you already married?”

“No, but husband is easier than fiancé.” She offered Ryan a smile, the kid’s whole expression relaxed, and Ben was going to fucking die. “Don’t worry, Ry,” Her voice dropped to a mock whisper, and suddenly nobody else was in the world but Her, Ben, and Ryan. “Ben isn’t going to let it be a secret wedding. Expect something very stupid and dramatic.”

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine-

No. She stuck her tongue out at him, Ben felt fucking high on how beautiful She was in front of him, and how bright she was inside him, and if Annie hadn’t started talking right then, he probably would’ve started fucking Her on the grass.

“Do you have plans?” Annie looked between them, her voice a little fucking weak, but still genuine. “For the wedding?“

“It’ll be after all this,” She gave a vague gesture to the air, Her beautiful face falling slightly. “Is done. I don’t want to get in the way of the mission-“

“Are we going to talk about the mission?” Neuman cut in with a dry, flat voice. “Or just keep standing here and talking about sex and weddings?”

MM let out a low, tired huff, and looked at Her with a weary expression. “Neuman’s right, we’ll have time for all the damn marriage talk after. Right now, we’ve got some heavy shit to go over. Let’s,” MM paused, looking around the sprawling farm grounds with a frown. “Where the fuck is your stuff.”

She sighed, looking down the road with a hesitant expression. “In the car, with Kimiko.”

“Kimiko ain’t able to drive, Love-“

“It’ll be fine,” She dismissed Butcher with a wave of Her hand, but Ben could still sense the anxiety around Her throat, constricting over his own lungs. “I can talk without props. Ryan,” Her gaze turned down, growing warm and soft as she reached out, holding Ryan’s face with a gentle hand. “Ben and I will find you after, but you can’t be in the meeting with us.”

Ryan’s eyes fell to the ground as he nodded, and She sighed.

“We trust you,” She whispered, offering Ryan a small smile. “But this isn’t something for you to worry about. If you have questions, I’ll answer them, but after. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan mumbled, glancing back to Ben—he gave a firm nod, that always seemed to help the kid’s anxiety—and sighed. “We can talk after.”

“After.” She said, and that was the voice She used when she made promises she intended on keeping. “You can ask whatever you want, and we have some stuff to give you-“

“Some stuff?” Ryan frowned, looking back to Ben with an uncertain gaze. “I don’t need anything-“

“They’re gifts.” Ben grunted, the radiance in him growing at how fucking adoring Her smile was, and how open and bright Ryan’s eyes were. “Go with Frenchie, kid. We’ll find you when we’re done.”

Frenchie nodded at Ben’s implied order, gesturing for Ryan to join him. As they both walked away—Frenchie rambling to a wide-eyed Ryan about fireproof alloy infusion—Ben wrapped his arm around Her waist and pulled her fully against him, kissing the top of her head as he glared around the group.

“Are we going to go the fuck inside, or just stand out here like idiots.”

Butcher snorted. “We been waitin on you, Soldier Boy, and your fucking emotional shit-“

“Inside.” MM cut Butcher off with a glare as Ben’s eyes narrowed, his hand clenching over Her stomach. “Let’s not murder each other before we even get to Homelander.”

Ben could agree with that. He would kill Butcher later—Ben was allowed to be fucking careful and gentle with his family, and Butcher should be real fucking grateful he was even allowed to witness their goddamn happiness, the bitter fucking pussy—but right now, killing Homelander was more important. Killing Homelander meant She and Ryan would be safe and She and Ben could get married without any fucking secrecy, so nothing was more important than killing Homelander.

Ben guided Her into Edgar’s rickety, piece of shit farmhouse, sitting tall at Her side around the well-worn, wooden table, and kept his hand on Her thigh as everyone settled down and the briefing began.

“The villa wasn’t lived in, and it didn’t look touched,” She started, tapping her fingers on the table as she spoke. “But it was clean. You said Edgar kept all his properties clean?”

Neuman nodded. “He might have had a crew come in just to make sure it didn’t fall to ruin.”

“That’s what we saw. A lot of things looked like they’d been dusted, but hadn’t been moved in, well, my lifetime. Most of our lifetimes.”

“Not Soldier Boy’s,” Butcher muttered, and She shot him a glare.

“Or yours, dickfuck.”

“I ain’t the one marryin you-“

“Watch it.” Ben hissed, and the radiant feeling becoming hot. Vigilant and loud, waiting for a reason to launch out of Ben with a boom and spread over the world.

MM sighed, running his hand over his face. “Can you motherfuckers try to keep it civil and not antagonize each other?”

She hummed in agreement, continuing before Butcher had a chance to make another jab or Ben could split Butcher’s head open on the table. “Butcher, I’m a big girl. I’m well aware of the age thing, and it’s probably the least fucked up thing about our relationship. Also, I think it’s hot, so you can shove it up your ass.”

Ben smirked, sitting up a little straighter, and squeezed his hand against her. I fucking knew it-

I already admitted that, Pretty Boy. And I’m mostly trying to shut Butcher up, so don’t get too smug.

Ben didn’t care what She’d been trying to do, because not only was everyone’s reaction more than he could’ve hoped for—red faces, surprised coughs, and picked up heart rates—but her words set off sparks in his gut and made something bloom around his heart. It was his usual, completely fucking unbreakable and wrathfully attentive love for Her, but also a raw and strange glow that was getting harder and harder to ignore. It was hidden under the radiance, and Ben didn’t want to glow—he wasn’t a pathetic fucking pussy who did things like glowing—but it was almost painful to pretend he couldn’t feel it at this point. That it wasn’t created and fed by how She was just as biting and avenging when someone stood against Ben as he was for Her, and She was fucking marrying him, and She adored him, and nothing could take that away from him. No one would ever be able to call Ben worthless again, because She’d kill them. Just like he’d kill people who called Her weak.

She looked like she was about to start talking again, but the door banged open and everyone started in their seats, guns clicking and raising, bodies bracing to fight whoever the fuck had just interrupted their meeting-

“You assholes are paranoid as shit, huh.” A-Train muttered, walking over to the table with a fearful Ashely a few paces behind him. “And thanks for telling us we were having a meeting.”

Annie scoffed at A-Train’s obvious, dripping contempt, crossing her arms as he and Ashley sat down. “We didn’t know where you were, and this is time sensitive. We didn’t have time to look.”

A-Train rolled his eyes, and Hughie cleared his throat with a shaky cough.

“Where, uh,” he swallowed, words sounding forced out of his mouth. “Where were you guys?”

“On a walk.”

Hughie blinked at A-Train’s flat answer. “Oh. Why?”

“None of your business, Hughie-“

“Can we please focus.” Neuman leaned back in her chair with a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands in the air. “We can all do group therapy after Homelander is dead.”

A-Train didn’t stop glaring at Hughie, but nobody pushed anything, so She took the cue to keep talking.

“Right, um,” She shook Her head, the tapping on the table picking up tempo. “The villa was in good shape, and we found Dr. Vought’s old study. Like I told MM, there was a large stash of compound V, which we brought about twenty vials of back-“

Hughie frowned. “How did you get V through security-“

“We didn’t go through security.” She said, looking around the table with a vaguely bored expression. “I mean, there was no world where we’d get through legally, V or no V. We’re walking weapons who don’t have passports. Sneaking onto a plane isn’t even in the top ten crimes we’ve committed, I think it will be fine.”

“But you’ve got it?” Annie asked, leaning forward on the table. “You’ve got the V here?”

“It’s in our bags.”

“Shit.” Annie turned to MM. “Has Frenchie told you when the drill will be ready?”

“What drill-“

“Frenchie’s been working on a needle drill or some shit,” MM told Her, and she nodded slowly. “Get the V into Homelander in one shot. He said a week, but I don’t think we’ve got a whole fucking week-“

“We don’t.” She muttered, and there was a faraway, set on Her face Ben recognized to be an idea. The final moment of Her clever fucking brain turning and clicking things into a pattern Ben never understood, but—usually—fucking worked in their favor. “If Homelander really is being tapped by Singer for the VP spot, from congressional pressure or not, we can’t wait for him to even get a confirmation hearing. But,” She swallowed, and whatever fucking insane thing she was planning settled in Her head, and all Ben could do was wait for Her to say it. “We need that drill. All we have to do is delay Homelander, and buy Frenchie enough time to get it right.”

Ben knew where this was going. Her breathing was falling into a mechanical rhythm, and the tapping of her fingers had started to leave marks on the table as curling smoke rose from her hands, Ben knew where the fuck this was headed.

You don’t fucking have to do that-

I do, my love. She gave him a small, sad smile, dropping Her searing hand over Ben’s. It didn’t fucking hurt at all—even when it might have before—so when She realized what she’d done and tried to pull away, Ben caught Her wrist with a scowl. Ben-

Doesn’t hurt. He searched Her beautiful, impossibly perfect and exhausted face for whatever words he could use to talk Her out of this, and couldn’t find a single goddamn one. Sunshine-

I’ll be okay. And it’s long overdue. She looked back to their slightly watching team, all wearing similar expression of blank confusion. “I need to come out of hiding. For good.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at Her, and before they had a chance to erupt with stupid fucking opinions, She continued.

“I can do it here. We can find a blank, unidentifiable wall to film in front of, and I’ll say all of it. What Annie said, a little more, and what’s happened since. It will be a clear, obvious accusation of assault, abuse, and torture, and it will at least slow everything down.” She took a long, deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper only Ben could hear. “It has to slow things down.”

MM was frowning, but he seemed mostly concerned. “It’s not a guarantee,” he muttered Her name, scanning over Her face with a firm, slow gaze. “And there will be a massive fallout. Fuck, Annie had a fallout, and that wasn’t a formal story. And Sage literarily just said her shit, people might call bullshit just on that-“

“People were always going to call bullshit.” Everything in Her—in Ben—felt exhausted and sick. Twisting and rotting in Ben’s chest as Her words became slightly choked and he had to just wait. He couldn’t kick everyone out to hold Her and remind Her she was safe, he had to fucking wait. “There was never a time or place I could say my piece, and have a perfect success rate. If there was, none of this would be a problem to begin with. And I can acknowledge Sage. I can admit that I am related to Muller, but also point out that he kicked me out and we hadn’t spoken for thirteen years. I can talk about everything. I don’t have careful moves to make like Sage does, I don’t have anyone I need to lie about or steer public attention away from. But,” She paused, a flash of panic shooting through Ben’s veins and up his spine as Her heartbeat sped up. “I want to get my siblings out. If I’m saying everything, standing in direct opposition of Vought and Singer, they’ll need to hide. Fuck, they probably should’ve already been hidden-“

“We can take care of that.” MM cut off Her spiraling, and Ben shot him a curt, appreciative nod, pulling Her a little close against him and rubbing patterns on her leg as MM continued. “Butcher and I got some contacts we trust with that shit, we can hide them. And Frenchie-“

“Oui?” Frenchie pushed open the door like he’d been fucking summoned, Kimiko right behind him. “What about moi are we discussing?”

“Frenchie,” She said carefully, eyes narrowed. “Where’s Ryan-“

“With the little Neuman.” Frenchie reassured Her, Kimiko nodding behind him with a kind smile. “They get on quite well, do not worry. What news have we missed?”

Butcher said to Her name, his smirk more tense than cruel. “Found a way to buy you time, Mate. Got the V, just need that fuckin drill.”

Frenchie gave Her a grateful nod before turning back to MM. “Is that all?”

“We’re gonna need to get her family out first,” MM grunted, and Frenchie seemed to understand in an immediate fucking second.

“Ah, operation Harrison Ford. Easy as a cakewalk, Madame,” Frenchie said Her name with a grin, and she blinked.

“We have an operation Harrison Ford?” Hughie looked around the table with an almost indignant expression. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we had an operation Harrison Ford?”

“You ain’t ever been a fugitive, Mate. Didn’t need it.”

Hughie gaped at Butcher. “I have definitely been a fugitive! Like, five fucking times! I’m a fugitive right now!“

“It’s for when we haven’t got anyone but each other.” MM explained, his tone slightly apologetic. “Last time we got people into hiding before we were wanted. Operation Harrison Ford is for when there’s no CIA to fall back on.”

Hughie looked almost crestfallen—Annie giving him a pat on the shoulder that was severely fucking undercut by her amused expression—and She cleared Her throat, pushing on.

“Do I need to do anything for operation Harrison Ford?”

MM nodded. “Get them all together and pass them on to me. We want this done sooner rather than later, though, so if you can round them all up-“

“They’ll be at my mom’s.” She muttered. “It’s just past the 4th, they always stay with her in July. We can go tonight-“

“Tomorrow.” Ben snapped, making his words stern and final, because She needed fucking rest. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

She sighed. Ben-

We promised Ryan, he grunted Her name between their heads, and Her tight expression faltered. It’s less than 24 fucking hours, we’ll be fine.

She nodded slowly—for once just letting Ben be right—and returned Her attention to MM. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon. Anything else we need to deal with?”

MM frowned, his voice slow. “Maybe. You told me there might be the V formula there as well, you manage to confirm it?”

“No,” A brief glint of red appeared and dried on Her lips as she chewed them with her words. “But it would explain what Sage is after. If all she knows is the Cornucopia as an idea, she wouldn’t think it has multiple things. She’s after the formula.”

“Wouldn’t Sage know the formula?” Hughie asked, sounding doubtful his own question. “Her whole thing is smart, she could probably replicate it-“

Frenchie shook his head. “It is not that simple, Petite Hughie. Compound V is remarkably complex. There is a reason it took Vought so long, with so much money and testing, to perfect. My attempt was weak itself, and I am still not sure what I did wrong.”

“Well, no offense Mate, but you ain’t Sage-“

“Non, I am not.” Frenchie shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Butcher’s words. “But Sage is lacking the unethical testing Vought was granted by the Holocaust. And his first batch was, ah, famously unstable.” He shot Her and Ben apologetic expressions, words slowing. “It is not outside the realm of possibility that even Sage can be stumped. She may have hit a wall, or Vought may have done something odd enough to drive her cuckoo-“

“Sage doesn’t go cuckoo.” A-Train muttered. “She’s a vindictive fucking robot-“

“I’ve confused her.” Everyone’s attention turned to Her, and Ben’s could feel the sick feeling returning as she spoke. “She doesn’t follow things that aren’t in logical line. She doesn’t understand, um, love all that well, because it’s irrational.”

Butcher scoffed. “That’s bloody sad for the ice bitch, what’s that got to do with the fuckin V.“

“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “My point is more if there are things Sage doesn’t understand, things she can’t predict, and it’s usually things related to emotions. So,” She paused, frowning into the air, and turned to Ashley. “Who made the V at Vought? I’d imagine they had an NDA, but Sage and Homelander would be able to make them talk-“

“Nobody knew the whole recipe.” Ashely’s voice was unsteady, watching Her like the wrong word might end in blood. “When I got the CEO job they explained that it was manufactured in random patterns and parts, specifically so nobody could duplicate it. I think they even had fake factories and steps, just to throw people off.”

She nodded, fingers sitting suddenly as she turned to Frenchie. “I need the suppressant back. Soon.”

“Of course Madame, but I cannot recommend you, ah,” Frenchie glanced at Ben’s violent glare. “Continue with it-“

“It’s still not for me.” She squeezed Ben’s hand on Her leg in silent reassurance, and he felt his grip on her loosen. “Trust me. Please.”

Those words were mostly for Ben. They were Her asking him not to push back on her with this, pair with an implicit promise that she wouldn’t hurt herself like that again. So Ben slightly pressed his knee against Hers, holding Frenchie’s anxious expression, and gave a curt nod.

Frenchie nodded slowly, looking back to Her. “Oui. I will put it in the room.”

“The room? What room-“

“We’re stuck here indefinitely, Love.” Butcher drawled. “Lucky us, Edgar was a rich prick with a huge fuckin house, but we still gotta fit thirteen cunts in five bedrooms. You twats are bunkin with Ryan and I.”

Ben scowled. “Sleep on the fucking couch, you cockhead-“

“Nah, Gov. But if I wake up to you two humpin near my virgin ears-“

“We’re not going to hump in a shared space. With a child in the room.” She hissed at Butcher, and he shrugged.

“Caught you fuckin the bathroom before, shared bedroom ain’t a stretch-“

“Yes, it fucking is-“

“Hey!” MM hit the table, and her mouth closed with one last glower at Butcher. “Time limit, motherfuckers. You,” MM grunted Her name, glaring between her and Ben. “And your asshole get the day, then we’re driving to go get your family tomorrow morning. Frenchie, work on the drill, and the rest of you.” MM’s jaw tensed, his face somehow growing more fucking grim. “Get ready to fight. Once we’ve got it all out in the open, Homelander’s not going to take it down easy. And if Sage is after the formula, we don’t know why, and we certainly don’t have a goddamn clue how she’ll retaliate. So look alive, we’re going to have some work to do.”

They did. In the fucking morning—and not a moment sooner—She and Ben would have a lot of work to do. But until then they could spend the night however they fucking wanted.

“If we do want to fuck,” Ben lowered down to whisper in Her ear, well aware he could just use their brain connection, but enjoying the slight shiver of her spine and flutter of her heart too much to bother. “I’m sure we could find a spot in all these damn trees to do it.”

“Forests aren’t for sex.” She muttered, giving him a flat glare, and he winked right back.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, beautiful. I’d fuck you in a parking lot, or a shitfuck subway, or in the middle of a goddamn earthquake.”

She hummed, giving it fake thought with a tilt of her head. “I feel like the earthquake would actually help. With the tremors.”

Ben snorted. “How about a dumpster.”

“That’s disgusting, Benjamin.”

“And that’s my damn point.” He kissed the top of Her head, smirking against her hair. “I love you enough to fuck you in a dumpster.”

“Romantic.” She guided them up the stairs, looking up and down the halls with a frown. “As much as I’d love to have forest sex, we do need to find Ryan-“

Ben nodded—he’d find a place for them to fuck later, when everyone else was distracted and Butcher couldn’t be a massive fucking ass about Ben having sex with his goddamn wife—and latched onto the distant sounds of everyone’s moving about the house. It didn’t take long to find Ryan’s—another floor up and a little down the hall—and when Ben started to walk, She let him guide their path without a single step of hesitation. Just watching Ben with wide-eyes and clinging to his arm around Her shoulders, every feature on her perfect face relaxed and fucking adoring. Ben had a feeling they could be walking to goddamn hell and not just a bedroom, and she’d still let him lead the way.

And he had to keep fucking earning that. It wasn’t a task or trial that would ever be done, because Ben had created so many fucking messes that he could throw himself at her feet to be used as weapon and he still wouldn’t have fully earned Her. Worse, She wouldn’t accept that offer. She’d frown at him and ask what the fuck he was doing. Tell him that She didn’t want him to be a weapon, just to be hers.

He already was. There was nothing fucking better than it, than being hers. All She asked of Ben was to stay and listen, and those were the easiest things to do in the goddamn universe. All She wanted from his wasn’t glory or blood, but love and effort. Two things that should have been horrible and trying to give, but weren’t. It wasn’t work, to love Her—it was fucking natural and impossible to remember what anything had been before he’d loved her—and all his effort was poured into figuring out a way to fucking deserve this. Deserve the most beautiful, perfect woman being alive with him, choosing to be near him, choosing to love him, choosing to fucking marry him.

It could come in blood. There would be times where it needed to be blood on Ben’s hands and skin under his nails, brutally clawing and beating and bruising to keep Her safe. But it would more likely be things like this. Like hugging Ryan when the kid jumped up to great them—it was also easy to hug Ryan, it made Ben’s whole goddamn body feel prideful and his heart feel right in his chest—and meeting Her soft, happy gaze with a grin of his own. Listening to Her and Ryan talk about all the history shit in Rome as he sorted through their bags—trying to hide all Her soon to be destroyed lingerie from Ryan, and the semi all his ideas were giving him from both of them—and pulled out their gifts. Stuffed fucking animals, so simple and goddamn stupid, and entirely goddamn worth it from the surprised look of pure goddamn happiest on Ryan’s face as She passed him the lobster and lion. Happiness that somehow grew stronger when She made Ben show him the other lion and Her tiger. It leaked into the air of the room like helium, making everything higher and nothing in danger of coming down.

“Do you,” Ryan looked between them with a nervous expression, his words quiet and uncertain. “Do you think I could come visit you? When you go?”

She froze—her face sad and gentle and soft, full of something that looked like grief and felt like a warm ache in Ben’s body—and Ben answered for Her.

“We’re not going, kid. And if we do, you’re coming with us.”

Ryan’s mouth parted, and he still looked so goddamn nervous. As if Ben would ever fucking lie to him. “I am?”

“If you want.” She offered Ryan a sweet, loving smile, and Ben was in fucking danger again. “And if not, we’ll stay here.”

“With,” Ryan swallowed. “With me?”

“We’re not sticking around for fucking Butcher-“

She threw a pillow at Ben’s head, her attention held on Ryan. “Of course with you. We’re not leaving you.”

“Would I, um, why?” Ryan looked almost confused, like this was a trick. Like She and Ben were measuring his reaction, and this was some sort of fucking test. “You don’t have to, if you want to go to Rome, just for me-“

“We don’t have to. But we want to.”

“You want to.” Ryan repeated Her words slowly, still looking fucking lost and nervous. “That’s it?”

She looked over at Ben, and he nodded. He wasn’t even really fucking certain what he was agreeing with—he was too fucking lost in how beautiful She was and how good this was, how everything in him felt peaceful and content and nothing wanted to explode out of his chest—but She was easy around his head and always fucking right, so Ben trusted her to say what he didn’t have words for. That he wouldn’t say properly, say in a way that really helped Ryan. Ben didn’t know how to explain that this radiance in his body was about not feeling like he had to go. That it wanted—Ben wanted—to stay right here, and keep watching the two people who were goddamn worth anything be happy. Wanted to keep them happy. Wanted to let their happiness crawl into him and keep making him a weak fucking pussy who had a stuffed lion because his wife insisted he should get it for their son.

So when She started talking again, Ben knew she’d understand all that shit, and get Ryan to understand it as well.

“That’s it.” She echoed without any caution or reservations in her voice. “You’re a cool kid, Ry. I like you and so does Ben.” She dropped her voice to a mock whisper, leaning forward to Ryan like her words were a secret. “The lobster was his idea, but don’t tell him I told you.” She gave Ben a sharp, bright and sweet expression, and he rolled his eyes as her voice raised. “We’re staying with you, because we want to, and we like being around you. Simple as that.”

“Around me?” Ryan stared down at the floor even as he leaned a little further forward. Closer to Her. “But I mess up-“

“We all fucking mess up, kid.” Ben grunted. “There’s not a single damn person in this house that hasn’t fucked something up. You never tried to hurt people, Homelander was just a weak fucking pussy who didn’t know how to teach you shit.”

“But I messed up in Boston too-“

“Boston as well,” She gave Ryan a gentle smile with the correction, and somehow it made him look more comfortable. Ben didn’t get that, but it did. “And none of us were perfect that day. You wanted to help, and you couldn’t have been expected to know Homelander would follow you. At least you didn’t take a dangerous, volatile drug, unlike certain people.”

Ben got a pointed glare with no real anger behind it, and rolled his eyes. This wasn’t a real argument, it was meant to distract Ryan, and Ben could play along easily.

“Don’t act like I didn’t save your fucking ass with that, Sunshine. And now I’m fireproof, I should be getting twice the goddamn thanks.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “Why is that, Pretty Boy?”

Ben opened his mouth to snap because now when I fuck you, I can get you to burst into flames and nobody gets hurt but the pussy fucking mattress, realized he couldn’t say that in front of Ryan, and scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re fireproof?” Ryan looked at Ben with fucking awe, and Ben felt his body grow a little easier to exisit in. “Is that your new power?”

Ben looked to Her for explanation, and she wrinkled Her nose at him.

Really, Ben-

You’re the brains, he grinned, saying Her name between their heads. Use them.

Cunt. She turned to Ryan, her expression immediately becoming sweet and gentle as she met his curious gaze. “It seems to be one of them. Or at least a higher resistance to the heat and flame. We mostly think it’s the nuke, in here,” She tapped Ben’s chest. “Fusing fully into his body.”

Ryan nodded slowly, looking over to Ben. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Ben grunted. “Taking the V felt like shit, but I lived. Now it just feels normal.”

He’d probably have to give more detailed answers to MM and Annie later, for stupid fucking team purposes, but that was enough for Ryan, whose expression became eager.

“Are we going to train together? Can I help you with practicing stuff? If you want help, obviously, I just think I could throw targets, and be a target-“

“I’m not making you a fucking target, Ryan.” Ben made his voice stern, because this was the same fucking nuke that wiped out V and Ryan shouldn’t be anywhere goddamn near it. “But we’ll keep training.”

Any crestfallen defeat at the first half of Ben’s words were wiped off Ryan’s face by the second half, and the kids face lit up again. “Really? Even after my dad is gone?”

“As long as you fucking need and want it. Like she said, kid, we’re sticking around.”

Ryan got it. A small, nervous smile crossed his face, the conversation moved on, and Ben knew that—even if they were liars, which they weren’t—they’d keep this promise. Ryan would always have Her and Ben, and that wasn’t any fucking labor either. None of the things Ben had to do for Her or Ryan ever felt like labor. Doing things for them didn’t require thought or work, because it was simple and fucking right. Acts of retribution that were so small and fucking worthless alone, but build up and up and up until Ben was closer to their easy warmth. Never being afraid they’d toss him out or sneer at his offerings, because they weren’t like that. That was what the callous, greedy people Ben had surrounded himself with had done. Had never let it be enough, had made it obvious that acts of care were for the weak, and worth was won from spat words and traded blows.

But this worth—good worth, that was glowing and alight and content along Ben’s ribcage—was born from these small acts of service. From going to the strange, odd dinner with the team and sitting with his hand on Her thigh and his food offered silently to Ryan when they didn’t have enough for seconds. From playing the stupid fucking card game Hughie suggesting, and helping Her cheat because he’d help Her do anything. Taking Her and Ryan’s dishes to the sink and trying not to lose his fucking mind when She followed him without question, just to stay at his side.

Moving to the living room with most everyone else—Ashley and A-Train leaving to go do whatever the fuck they did, and Neuman muttering about getting a headache, but telling Zoe to just be in bed before midnight—and sitting in watchful, easy silence as She and Kimiko had a conversation made of giggles and smiles, and She moved herself into Ben’s lap, holding his arm over her stomach and sighing happily when he kissed Her neck. Listening to Ryan and Zoe tell them about how Neuman had lined up their curriculums, and now Ryan could learn to play the piano.

“I played the piano,” Ben grunted, and was met with shocked gapes he did not fucking appreciate.

“You did?” She leaned back on his chest, looking up at Ben with a sharp amusement dancing in Her pretty eyes . “Did you also play the trumpet?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up-“

“Make me-“

Ben’s own grin grew to something that felt a little feral, and Butcher scowled.

“Don’t you fuckin dare make her, or you horny dumbasses are sleepin outside.”

She stuck Her tongue out, wiggling further into Ben’s hold and not fucking helping him at all. “You’re just bitter you can’t play the piano, Butcher. You can’t even keep a beat.”

“Fuck off, Love, you ain’t better than me-“

“On this I am,” She shrugged, a smug smile on Her face that made Ben’s own body start to flood with pride. “I can’t play the piano, but I can sing.”

“Singin from the V don’t count-“

“I could sing before the V, asshole.”

“You can sing?” Ryan’s face was covered in wonder, and Ben understood that. His face whenever he looked at her likely looked wide and a fucking dumbstruck as well, but also probably a lot less innocent.

She nodded with a soft, slightly tense hum. “Yeah. I don’t a lot, because things will, um, happen. If I do.”

Ben didn’t have to look around at the team to know that they were either flushed or grimacing at the memory of the illusion of Ben, dancing on the stage with Her in a way that friends or coworkers certainly weren’t supposed to. Ben was fond of that memory, because it was the first time he’d been fucking certain that if he tore through the crowd, picked Her up, and slammed his mouth to Her’s in a brutal and demanding kiss, She’d match every single touch and moan until they were fucking on the floor of that stupid club. He could also get that their friends might not have the same almost liberating light painted across their thoughts of it, just because nobody ever seemed to appreciate that She was a lot more of a horny fucking brat than they gave her credit for. Any jabs at Ben’s constant innuendos and hard-ons when She would so much as smiled at him would never really land the way anyone wanted them to, because She was worse.

Even right fucking now, as the conversation continued, She was squirming in Ben’s lap. Her heartbeat had picked up as he kissed a gentle, careful pattern over her jaw and kneaded at the skin of Her thigh, and Ben got a weak slap on his knee as Ryan pressed on with his questions.

“Like what?” 

“Illusions, essentially.” She shrugged. “As far as I’ve understood it, I can let off a pheromone that warps everyone’s senses within its radius. It happens when I sing, and, um,” She flushed, fingers starting to tap on Ben’s forearm. “Get excited.”

Fortunately for fucking everyone, Ryan didn’t press about what excited meant. He just swallowed, watching Her with a hesitant, hopeful expression. “Could you sing for us? If you, um, if you want-“

“I could.” She looked around the room, her heart picking up to a nervous, stumbling pattern. “If that’s okay with everyone-“

“Long as nothing happens like last time,” MM mutters. “I don’t give a shit.”

There was a low chorus of agreements, and she cleared Her throat, leaning further into Ben as she began.

It was a slow, sweet song that filled the room with golden light and an overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla and coffee. Her voice was just as beautiful as every other time She’d let Ben hear it—if anything it only grew stronger, steadier and more certain as she eased into the music—and Ben didn’t ever want to fucking leave this place. Didn’t want to stop feeling the perfect warmth she was creating around and inside him, or move from this place where the world was made of illusions, but She was still fucking real. Where Ben could hear Her voice echo and fill the room—sounding like everything good he’d ever known—and feel Her heart fall into a controlled but natural pattern with every breath and note. Where he could bury his face in Her hair and still manage to smell flowers and smoke and apples.

They had to move eventually. When the song finished, Ben could grin at Her and bask in how her own, cautious smile grew full and toothy as everyone offered her the praise and admiration she goddamn deserved. But then he had to carry Her to bed—She let him, resting her head on his shoulder and falling asleep before they’d reached the top of the goddamn stairs—and spend a restless night carefully covering her body like a shield. Keep Her safe from the creaking of the summer breeze and buzz of the night, kissing her brow when she rolled to face him and carefully wrapping his arms around her to hold Her in the dark. Ben knew every threat to Her was nothing but eyes blinking open and lost sleep before a long day, but it still felt right to be here. To keep Her peaceful, relaxed and content body from Butcher’s view, even if the pussy didn’t look at them as he shuffled into the room. To know that when She woke up, the first thing She’d know was that Ben was here, with Her.

At some point the sound of Her heart must have lulled Ben into rest, because when he dragged his eyes open after what felt like only a second there was cool, morning light past the blinds and climbing into the room, and She was watching him with an open, adoring expression.

Hi, Sunshine.

A small smile crept over Her face, and Her voice in Ben’s head was so full of love it was going to goddamn knock him out. Hi, Benjamin, my love.

He leaned down to kiss to space between Her eyes, letting his lips linger against her skin. What time is it.

Early.

What time do we have to go.

I don’t know. She chewed on Her lips, and Ben watched to run his tongue over them to soothe and slow her movements. MM didn’t actually tell us, he just said ‘in the morning’.

What the fuck are we supposed to do, then.

Can you hear him? Is he awake? 

Ben paused, moving his attention to the sounds of the house. Slow heartbeats and low breathes, soft shifting sounds as people tossed and turned, and-

Someone’s awake, he looked back to her, raising his brows. Don’t know who. 

She sighed, giving Ben almost a pout. We should probably get up, then.

Ben grunted an agreement, and neither of them moved. It was like that for a long while, Her and Ben the only two people in the universe, sitting in each other and not really caring to do much else. Only when Ben heard a second heartbeat pick up to a waking pace, closely followed by a second pair of footsteps beginning to move around the house, did he kiss Her on her brow and guide her out bed. They grabbed their clothing and moved to the bathroom, getting ready in silence and slow, deliberate movement so as to not wake Ryan or Butcher.

When they were dressed and—mostly—awake, Ben reached out his hand and She took it with a smile. Kept it in hers down the stairs and into the paint-peeling, gas oven kitchen, smiling when Ben kissed Her knuckles before rising up to kiss his cheek.

MM re-entered the kitchen, seemed to immediately understand their silent ritual, and gave them both short nods. There were four thermoses on the counter that MM filled with coffee—She frowned at them, then at Ben, and all he could do was shrug—and Ben grabbed two for them each, following Her out to the driveway.

The likely owner of the fourth thermos was waiting for them next to Butcher’s car, greeting Her with a bright smile and wave, and Ben with a nod that didn’t look like an effort.

She signed to Kimiko with a smile of her own, translating their conversation into Ben’s head.

Kimiko’s coming for operation Harrison Ford, as MM’s muscle. Once we get my siblings on board you and I will have to come back here to get the ball rolling against Sage, and she and MM will go through with the operation.

Got it. Ben frowned. What the fuck is the operation.

She gestured to Kimiko, who gestured back with what seemed to be careful, thought-out movements, and She nodded.

She says it’s mostly just hiding them in a really complex way. They’re going to take one of my families cars, swap it halfway, take the bus, change directions in a stolen car, and get them to some people MM trusts. She sighed, leaning Her head onto Ben’s arm. Overall, just get them somewhere safe so I can do my speech.

Ben grunted, looping his arm around Her waist to keep her steady. I’m driving back.

The fuck you are-

I’m driving. Ben smirked down at Her, tracing pattens on her hips. Or I’m not talking to you the whole ride so you can goddamn focus and not get us into a fucking crash.

She snorted. That’s a worse threat than withholding sex, you talk more than I do.

That’s fucking bullshit-

To me. She corrected herself with smile, leaning back to bump her nose against his jaw. You always talk to me. You wouldn’t last two hours without talking to me, or trying to get me to talk to you.

You willing to bet on that, Sunshine?

Feels like a pretty boring bet-

Whoever talks first gets head from the loser.

She gave him a flat look. Where. Because I am not fucking in the house-

Winner gets to choose where. He winked, kissing the corner of Her mouth. Get ready to give a blowjob in the forest, beautiful, I’m going to knock this shit out of the fucking park.

Ben knew that would do it. Her eyes narrowed, determination flashed—wild and sharp—over her pretty face, and she was on board.

Rules. She scanned over Ben’s face with an almost frightening focus, fingers tapping on his arm. Mission stuff doesn’t count. If we’re in a group we can talk, but it has to be relevant. No inside jokes or innuendos, and no nicknames. Nothing we wouldn’t say to each other as co-workers.

He nodded, dropping his mouth to Her neck. Touching?

She shrugged, even as her hand moved to grip at his bicep and Her voice in his head became breath. Long as you don’t talk about it.

What about this. Ben pressed his brow to the side of Her head, and she smirked at him, her voice becoming mock innocence.

What about what? Is there a name for what you’re referring to, Benjamin?

He rolled his eyes. Shut the fuck up-

That’s the idea.

Brat. 

Cunt. Say it. 

Ben scowled, and grumbled the word between their heads, doing his best to make it sound painful. Ben’o’phone.

She hummed, eyes dancing with a joy Ben could feel behind his eyes and along his spine. No talking on the Ben’o’phone.

Any other shit?

Nope. You’ve got a deal, Pretty Boy. She twisted out of his hold, extending her hand for Ben to shake. Get ready to never speak to me again.

He laughed, because there wasn’t a goddamn chance he’d let that happen. And Ben knew his wife. He knew that as stubborn as he was himself, She was worse, and was more than capable be a spiteful pain in his ass. If they got back to the farm from Boston and She still hadn’t said a word, Ben knew he’d end it. There were damn well worse fates than eating out a perfect woman who he loved, and one of them was never hearing Her voice again.

But this made the four hours stuck in the car with MM and Kimiko a fuck ton more interesting. MM had given the mission orders before they took off—this is a delicate motherfucking operation, so no murder, don’t be idiots, and listen when I tell you shit—and Ben had felt Her start to tug away from him, making a play to grab shotgun and keep herself physically detached from Ben.

Physical shit was Ben’s one fucking advantage. She could outwit and outlast Ben all she damn pleased, but She’d crumble if he touched her right. Turned Her into a soft, hazy-eyed mess in his arms, played with Her perfect fucking body until she caved and started begging him to just plain fuck Her.

So he’d kept Her body firm in his hold, and chuckled when she shoved his chest and stomped to the backseat as Kimiko dropped into shotgun. When Ben followed Her—scooting along the bench until their bodies were pressed together—she plain refused to look at him, and he started to run his hand up and down Her thigh. Rubbing Her skin until her breathing became ragged, but neither of them caved.

Most of the car ride was like that. Ben teasing Her in silence, Her pretending he simply didn’t fucking exist, and both of them pretending they weren’t constant goddamn seconds from caving. Ben knew for a fact that every smile he caught on Her lips and every flutter of her heart sent him barreling closer to asking what the fuck she and Kimiko were talking about and why she’d pointed at him. He wanted to know what the hell She was planning on telling her siblings, what She was planning on telling the fucking world, to drawl to Her about all the ways he wanted to fuck her with his new powers, because he’d been brainstorming, and he has some pretty goddamn amazing ideas.

And he was sure she’d want to hear them. Given that he could almost fucking feel Her own will bending and dissolving—warm in his gut and soft in his head as he teased and squeezed Her skin, moved his hand to just rest at the apex of her thighs—and her heart had reached a rhythm he usually heard during sex, Ben would call it a safe fucking bet that she was just as close to giving in as he was.

But neither of them did. And when MM cleared his throat, they’d made it three whole hours without saying a word.

MM grunted Her name, and she looked over to him with a frown.

“Yeah?’

“I still had Violet’s number from March, and I gave her a call last night.” MM glanced up to Her in the rearview mirror. “Gave her a quick brief, she sounded a little pissed you faked dead again, but understood. She’s bringing one of your brothers, but says the other one and your sister aren’t in Boston with your mom.”

“Where are we meeting them?”

“Coffee shop. Had croissants, and God knows I could use something like that right now.”

“Did she say which brother she’s bringing?”

“Got a name, don’t remember-“

“Henry or Sterling.”

MM paused. “Sterling.”

“Okay.” She sighed, slumping down into Her seat, into Ben. “What did you tell her, exactly?”

“We got you back around late May. Had you since, but couldn’t let anyone outside of our immediate team and contacts know for security. You’ve made a complete physical recovery, and are mentally stable enough for fieldwork. We’ve seen Sage’s propaganda, none of it is true, and we’re making a play against her and Homelander soon, so we’re putting them in hiding until this is done.”

She nodded with a small frown and slow words. “What about, um,” Her eyes flicked to Ben—just enough to make him really fucking regret this bet, because she hadn’t looked at him in hours and Christ, she was beautiful—and she swallowed. “Ben and I? I know Sage has said some stuff-“

“Violet asked. I told her you were together but I didn’t mention the engagement. That shit’s not my place.”

“And um, what did she say about that?”

Ben wanted to grab Her perfect face between his hands and tell her that there wasn’t a goddamn chance this was going to be an issue. If Violet had some sort of fucking opinion about it, Ben would do everything in his power to prove that he was serious about this shit. About Her. There was nothing bitter in him about it—he didn’t deserve Her, and he knew that Violet’s acceptance of this probably meant something to Her—but it still made Ben’s whole body strain. Scratch and twist to give up on this stupid bet and just pull every part of Her back to the ground so he could take care of them. Take care of Her.

It was real fucking lucky MM answered Her quickly, or Ben would’ve lost.

“She just asked when it had been official, I said a few weeks after we got you back, and that was it.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Mentioned that she was surprised it wasn’t before all the shit in April, but that’s it.”

“Surprised-“

MM said Her name in a flat voice, eyes fixed on the road. “I still don’t think you fucking idiots understand that you were the last people to know you were dating. I’d bet Mallory’s agents knew before you did.”

“Oh.” She flushed, her hand wandering to hold Ben’s, and he wasn’t even damn certain she knew she was moving it. “Sorry.”

Ben’s jaw clenched, and MM did his work for him.

“Stupid thing to be sorry for. We’re all adults, we knew how to handle your lovesick bullshit without killing you.”

“I don’t,” She frowned, almost fucking pouting. “I don’t think it was that bad.“

MM scoffed. “You were oblivious. We had to pretend we couldn’t see you eye fucking each other over dinner.”

“But-“

“No but,” MM shook his head, and Ben saw his frown flash in the mirror. “What’s important is that you did figure your shit out, and that no matter what the fuck Violet thinks now or thought before, she’ll come around on it.” He let out a labored, slow breath, his voice dropping to a hushed, pushed-through-teeth tone. “I did.”

Her mouth fell open a little, her hand squeezing tight over Ben’s, and her words became soft as she whispered, “you did? Really?”

“He’s still a fucking dick man-baby, but his old ass heart seems to be beating. You’re not a shell of a person with him,” MM muttered Her name, looking between Her and the road. “It’s good to see. Even when it makes me want to throw up, which is all the goddamn time.”

Her body relaxed with her pretty features, she made a small, happy noise of content, and Ben couldn’t even be mad MM had called him a dick man-baby or old, because She was happy.

Ben tangled Her fingers between his, and—still in complete silence—she fully curled into him as he kissed the top of Her head. Ben didn’t bother with taunting, riling touched for the remainder of the car ride, because She looked so goddamn peaceful at his side and this silence didn’t feel like part of their bet. It felt like sitting half inside of each other, easily and comfortably fused against each other without the need for a single other goddamn thing. It was one of the moments where Ben could really fucking feel Her within him out of just an instinct. Feel Her—just so fucking clearly Her—inside his body. Alive and bright, lining Ben’s skull and burrowed so deeply into his whole goddamn world that She flickered in perfect harmony with everything Ben could see or hear or touch. She hummed inside his blood when Ben trailed patterns on Her skin, settling over his bones when he dropped his head to rest against hers, and grew sharp and colorful behind his eyes when she looked up at him a soft smile.

It wasn’t a smile that said anything expect I love you, but not in their old silent words. It told Ben She loved him because it made every piece of Her in his body sing. Ring like church bells announcing something that didn’t need to be announced, reaching further and further into Ben’s body that he didn’t know where his own joy stopped and Her own—built of a million things jammed and melded together that reflected around Ben’s mind like stained glass—began.

And Ben realized that She may feel him like this all the time. That there might never be a moment where Ben—and however the fuck he felt to Her—wasn’t tangible and natural in Her body.

He hoped She did. As almost fucking mind-numbingly consuming as She was inside of him—making it hard to concentrate on the trees blurring past into brick buildings and sidewalks—Ben hoped She felt him all the goddamn time. It would mean that She really, fully understood that Ben started and stopped with Her. That there wasn’t a single fucking moment where he wasn’t tracking the sound of Her heartbeat, or studying her face to try and figure out her insane, maddening, perfect mind. That he was never angry he couldn’t figure Her out, because it was simply another excuse to keep looking at Her beautiful face.

She knew that Ben loved Her—because apparently fucking everyone did—but he still needed Her to know it more. To understand that when he moved to help Her out of the car it was because he’d dedicated himself to knowing how She moved and paced and shifted so as to best leave small offerings of actions and service for his worth.

That learning Her had been the only thing that had ever come easy. The only thing he’d ever learned and never wanted to stop learning. That Ben picked up every strange, seemingly useless piece of information and trivia that fell from Her pretty mouth and used them to keep building his alter to Her. A large, careful place to worship Her that kept this piece of Her inside him safe, made it feel loved.

And Ben really fucking hoped She could feel that, for Ben, she lived every reflection of sunlight on the puddles, gathered on the pavement near the gutter. That She felt how Ben looked at Her—tucked at his side and tapping on his arm—and knew that his love could never be pried or ripped from him, because it was more important to keep than his own fucking hands.

His hands were already Her’s anyway. Brushing hair from Her face and lingering on her cheek. Holding Her own as they walked after MM, along the street to the coffee shop. Opening the door and guiding her inside. Ben needed Her to fucking feel that too.

Needed Her to feel how something in Ben grew wrathful and bloody when she froze at his side barely a step through the door—Her face washing in fear and her nails digging into his skin—and how everything in him narrowed to Her. What’s making Her cave in with hollow eyes and shallow breaths, and what did he need to do for Her to smile again.

The area was mostly empty. A barista with some of the pinkest hair Ben had ever goddamn seen, an old woman with a dog that was too fucking tiny to be useful, and Violet, near the back with two other people Ben didn’t recognize.

One had to be Her brother. Sitting next to Violet, with Violet’s softer features, a slightly different nose from them both, and Her sharp, infinitely amused eyes. They even widened the same way Her’s did, when she was in true, genuine shock, making their whole faces open and animated, lips parted with a gleam that said they didn’t fully trust what they saw.

But Ben didn’t have a fucking clue who the woman was. There was gray in Her hair—so probably fucking old—and her back to the door was rigid and straight, giving off a feeling that she thought she was better. That whoever the fuck this lady was, she was above everything around her, above everyone. That even the damn chair wasn’t worthy of her sitting on it. The whole fucking air of it reminded Ben of his father. Made him taste cocktails that were still sour because he’d been so young, and hear nothing but a ticking clock in a long, empty hall this father didn’t care to grace with his presence.

The person Ben had ever met who deserved to look down at everything was Her, and She was never fucking like that. Ben had called Her art before—beautiful in a way that extended beyond just what Ben could see, sinking into his skin and stirring his whole body with things only She knew how to pry out—but art wasn’t supposed to be touched. And Ben really fucking loved touching Her, the same way She loved touching everything. Settling in wherever she sat, tapping and running her hands over every surface available to Her, holding Ryan in Her arms and letting Ben hold Her in his. Letting Ben touch Her everywhere, and touching him right back. Fingers in his hair, and brows pressed together, a hand holding his arm over Her shoulder’s and legs tangled together under sheets.

Everything Ben had seen his father touch had been with movements of vague disgust, as if the lesser object or person would infect him. It was the same way this woman was keeping her fingers light and raised off the table, only moving in a rhythm Ben recognized. A rhythm that he’d learned to recognize anywhere, just one off-beat from the pattern being tapped on his hand on Her hips.

The woman turned in her chair as it clicked in Ben’s head, and fucking hell, She looked just like her mother. It was the almost same face Ben loved and could look at for a million years without ever feeling the need to stray his gaze or move, but with something inverted. Something so imperceivable that was altered between them, that made Ben feel like there was bile filling up his lungs and something churning in his gut.

Because the longer Ben looked—the whole room heavy and wired, time seeming to slow as they all stared at each other—the more he realized there was nothing alike about them at all. It might be the same face—a goddamn duplicate, everything from skin to eyes to lips to hair right where it was supposed to be—but there was something fucking off about Her mother’s. It wasn’t something obvious, like the fact that Her’s was trapped in youth and Her mother’s was lined with age. It was deeper. Something fundamental on Her that Ben adored and devoted himself to caring for, that was just wasn’t fucking there on Her mother. Not missing, not a hole or hollow Her mother had never filled. Just not there, something wrong where it was supposed to be.

It lived in their eyes. Ben knew Her face better than he’d ever known fucking anything, and her eyes were sharp but filled with light. When She was being herself and not falling or breaking, there was always something magnetic in them that spread over her every other feature, and made Ben want to get as close to her as he possibly fucking could. Reach out to hold Her, to sit in any warmth and life she offered him, to just fucking love her and love her and hope that, though she shined on everything, in the end she was really just alight for Ben. That for all the love She held, her love for Ben was different, because the light in Her eyes burst and flared and turned to pure flame for him and only him. That she’d never deprive the rest of the world of this kind beauty, but She’d also allow Ben to touch her and serve her, in a way no other pussy fucker got it.

Her mother shouldn’t be touched or cared for. There wasn’t anything in Her mother’s eyes that called Ben forward, because they were like a wasteland. They weren’t sharp, but they were still cutting. Invasive and so fucking horrible to look into. And where She was something strange and sacred, Her mother felt like a statue. Something that had been designed to be elegant, to be perfect and idolized, but hadn’t fucking earned it. It was only cold, too clean stone that had never crawled through mud or remained beautiful through trial and torture. Everything about Her mother seemed to demand everything bend for her will, but Ben had no fucking desire to do anything for this bitch.

The only goddamn thing she’d get from Ben was hatred. Cold, furious loathing while every warm thing he had to offer was pushed into Her. His hand held Her steady, his whole body tensed and half-wrapped over Her’s, fucking ready for whatever the hell came next.

They’d all silently agreed not to make the first move. She seemed frozen in place, Ben wouldn’t fucking leave Her side, and MM had muttered a low shit that told Ben he’d realized what was going on. Violet just looked sad and fucking guilty— eyes locked onto Her’s with shifting expression’s Ben couldn’t understand—and their brother looked just as frozen as She was, everyone seeming to just be fucking waiting for what Her mother would do.

Ben was only seconds from just fucking stomping over the room—keeping his body a pace before Her’s—and getting everything moving so this could be done, but then Her mother said Her name, and it was the worst way Ben had ever heard it. This had a scolding familiarity to it that felt practiced and deliberate. The Bitch said Her name like she was a fucking dog. Even fucking Homelander had mostly said it like She was a person. The wrong person—a hateful and fake idea of Her that held her face but nothing that made Her her—but a person all the same. Her mother said Her name as if She was a doll, and worse, it fucking worked. She folded back into Ben, Her heart racing and her nails digging into his skin, and Ben had to just hold Her.

Until he got the clear to start breaking spines and shedding blood over the tiled floors, Ben had to just hold Her.

The Bitch said Her name again, and Ben was going to rip out the bitch’s tongue and feed it to her. “Come sit down. I’m sure,” The Bitch’s gaze drifted to Ben, MM, and Kimiko, all silent and rigid behind Her. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Ben squeezed Her hand, and it seemed to spark her into action. She nodded and moved to the table, tugging Ben after Her.

What the fuck is your mother doing here. Ben muttered between their heads, and if She was surprised he’d made the connection himself, she didn’t show it.

Violet says she got tricked. They said they were going out to get lunch, but Mom told them she wanted to come. They agreed with the plan to just drop her off and run, knowing she’d be fine, but then when they all got out Mom moved to the driver’s seat and said she knew they were going to see me. They had to bring her, or they wouldn’t get here themselves. No murder, let me do the talking.

Fine. Ben kept his eyes narrowed on the Bitch as they dropped at the table. But if she fucking tries anything-

I’m serious, Ben. No murder-

They were snapped out of their silent words by the Bitch, clearing her throat as MM and Kimiko joined them.

“It’s good to see you. You look quite healthy for being dead.”

She shook Her head slowly, taking a long breath before speaking soft words that didn’t sound right from her mouth. “What are you doing here, Mom? Why did you make Vi and Sterling bring you.”

“You’re my daughter, of course I wanted to see you-“

“We both know that’s not true.” She muttered, her voice rising slightly. “Please just tell me what I’m supposed to do, so I can get it over with.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” The Bitch sighed Her name like a wounded fucking animal. “We’re in no rush, and you haven’t even introduced us to your, ah, companions.”

“MM, Kimiko,” She pointed to them as she spoke—MM giving a cold, curt nod Ben appreciated, and Kimiko offering a nervous wave—before looking up at Ben with a slightly softer expression, made of something calm. “And Ben. Now can we-“

“Ben.” The Bitch repeated, and Her heart picked up pace. “How exactly did you meet Ben?”

“I kidnapped him. Mom, this is really important-“

“You kidnapped him?” The Bitch laughed, like She was some sort of fucking child. “You can’t kidnap Soldier Boy, sweetie.”

“She did,” Violet mumbled, still shooting them apologetic, anxious looks. “She’s a supe now, Mom. She’s strong.”

“I am well aware of that, Violet, but all she can do is party tricks. That isn’t enough to kidnap the world’s strongest man-“

MM snorted at that. “It’s not just party tricks.”

“Excuse me-“

“Sorry, ma’am.” MM shrugged, not flinching under the Bitch’s glare. “But I’ve seen her blow up buildings and make a whole building of agents collapse. Your daughter can do a hell of a lot more damage than party tricks. And she’s certainly stronger than this asshole.”

The Bitch followed MM’s gesture to Ben, and made another disbelieving sound. “I know my daughter, and it is incredibly unlikely she’d be stronger than Soldier Boy-“

“She is.” Ben snapped, barely thinking about the words as they left his mouth. “She’s stronger than fucking Homelander. So watch it.”

“Watch it.” The Bitch smiled, looking Ben up and down, and he didn’t bother to hide the disgust on his face. “You seem to be quite close with her, Ben-“

“Don’t call him that.” She leaned forward over the table, Her voice finally regaining to hot venom Ben fucking loved, and knew to mean she wouldn’t pull punches or dance around words. “Don’t talk to him, Mom. Just tell me what the fuck you want.”

Something shifted in the Bitch, and any formal, fake fucking niceties vanished. “I am here for answers. I am here for the reason you have put your father and I-“

“He’s not my father-“

“He is your family. And you have put him, put us, through hell these last few months. Media harassment, airing out all our misunderstandings like dirty laundry, painting yourself to be a victim when all you have done is behave like a child. You’ve hurt us,” The Bitch said Her name mock, cold disappointment. “You’ve been incredibly selfish, and I want to know why you’re now trying to take my children away from me.”

She gaped slightly, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, they’re in real danger-“

“Danger you created. There would be nothing to worry about if you could just bite your tongue and keep a good, strong head on your shoulders. But no, you have to turn this into some sort of spectacle-“

“I didn’t fucking do anything-“

“You most certainly did.” The Bitch sneered. “Just in the past month you’ve peddled manipulative lies, murdered that poor woman in cold blood, embarrassed Todd at work, and threatened him with, your loyal little guard dog. You’ve ruined everything, and have seen yourself fit to drag this strong, powerful man down your level. If you had just listened to me, none of this would’ve happened you know. You’d be taken care of, even if you were still just a weak little girl-“

The wooden table splintered as Ben hit it, shutting the Bitch up with a bloodless face.

“Last fucking warning,” he hissed, leaning forward so the Bitch could hopefully fucking feel the wrath and hate starting to bang around Ben’s chest in an even rhythm, trying to get out and protect Her. “I couldn’t give a goddamn fly pig’s ballsack that you’re her mother, if you say another word about my wife, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Ben only realized his exact words after he’d said them. When MM muttered fuck, and She stared at him a wide, half adoring and amused, half pissed off expression.

Wife?

What.

Don’t play dumb, Pretty Boy, you’re bad at it-

I’m not going to fucking take it back-

I’m not going to tell you to take it back, but now I have to answer questions-

Almost on perfect fucking cue, Violet coughed.

“Are you, um, did you get married-“

“No. But someone,” She shot Ben a pointed glare, and he winked back. “Is a huge fucking dumb dumb with a big mouth.”

A big mouth you love-

A big mouth that’s going to get punched later-

“So you’re,” Sterling finally fucking spoke, and his voice sounded more like Her’s than Violet’s. With an accent that wasn’t placeable, but just them. Impossibly distinct, with every goddamn word they said sounding smart. “You’re not married to Soldier Boy.”

“Yet.” Ben grunted, and the looks on Her family’s faces were more than worth the heated slap to his leg.

“What exactly,” the Bitch said, her voice weighted and low. “Do you mean by yet.”

She gave Ben one last daggered glare before meeting the Bitch’s eyes, Her perfect face turning into something almost fucking prideful. “He means we’re engaged.”

Something flashed across the Bitch’s face that Ben didn’t understand. “To be wed.”

“That’s what engaged usually does mean, Mom-“

“Hell.” The Bitch shook her head, but she didn’t sound or look angry. She mostly just seemed inconvenienced. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to that woman.”

She, MM, Ben, and Kimiko exchanged similar what the fuck is she talking about looks, and Her words were careful and slow.

“What woman.”

“That haughty, annoying one with Vought. Sister Sage.” The Bitch waved her hand, frowning into the air. “I didn’t think you’d manage to surprise me and pull this off yourself, but you did, and if I wasn’t going to give her a piece of my mind before-“

“Mom,” She said, leaning across the table with a sharp, silent wrath in her eyes. “What the fuck did you do.”

“It’s what she did, dear. Breaching on our deal, turning against me just because of Homelander gaining what she called sense, but I call temporary cold feet-“

“Deal?” There wasn’t anything fucking hollow or nervous in Her voice. It was urgent, dangerous, and would be fucking hot if Ben wasn’t putting together all the pieces to reach a conclusion She already seemed to have. “What deal did you make with Sage.”

“Well, there’s no need to take that tone. And I didn’t think you’d be able to do this yourself-“

“Mom-“

“And it was a deal. We made a promise, a commitment, and there’s never a valid reason to go back on that. And especially not to throw us under the bus for their mistakes-“

“Ma’am.” MM jumped in, his face holding an equal anger Ben could feel in his body. “It is incredibly important you tell us exactly what Sage promised you, and what you promised her.”

The Bitch rolled her eyes, but huffed, “It was a handshake deal. I’d use Todd to make sure she got what she needed from the defense department and government, provide some chemicals she said were annoying to make or whatever, and she’d ensure your marriage to Homelander, which is all I’ve ever wanted for you! There’s no higher status than Homelander’s wife, but then they backed out, and Todd lost the VP slot! I never wouldn’t made it if I’d known she’d betray us like that, if I’d known your relationship with Solider Boy was real!”

Ben’s vision was lined with red, and he might break his own fists. That golden feeling over his ribs—atomic and wrathful and dedicated to fucking protecting Her all the goddamn time—was beating against him, trying to burst out and reduce the Bitch to just a fucking imprint on the wall.

But Her hand squeezed on Ben’s knee, and Her voice in his head was cold and steady I’ve got this. No murder. 

Ben grunted an affirmation—not caring if it was aloud or between their heads—and She took a labored breath Ben could feel the fury of before speaking.

“Are you insane.” She hissed. “You sold your soul to the fucking devil, and all you can think is that, if you’d known I was going to get married anyway, you might not have?”

The Bitch’s eyes narrowed. “I was doing what’s best for you. Even when you’ve been cruel to me, I’ve only wanted what’s best for you-“

“And you think that’s what’s best for me is marrying the man who kidnapped, raped, and experimented on me? And selling out the whole fucking country in the process?”

“Don’t be dramatic-“ 

“I am not being fucking dramatic. Because of what you did, stopping us from getting the federal supply of V, we had to get creative. Getting creative killed Grace Mallory, which lost Todd the VP slot, and now Singer might give it to fucking Homelander. Who is, in case we’re not clear, a fucking monster.”

“Please,” the Bitch gave Her a pointed look, and Ben wondered why he hadn’t already pulled out her tongue. “It’s not like Soldier Boy is an angel either, I’ve read the official Starlight reports-“ 

“Do not speak about him like that.” She leaned forward, her words almost spitting out of her mouth. “He makes me happy. He loves me, and takes good care of me, and doesn’t fucking try to lock me up and control me. He likes my temperament, he thinks it’s hot because he’s fucking insane, and I love him, and after I kill Homelander I’m going to marry him, and you’re never going to be part of our lives. You’re going to go with Violet and Sterling, and let MM hide you so the very people you sold your fucking daughter to don’t kill you, and then I’m never going to see your fucking face again. Violet-“

“We’ll go with him,” Violet said quickly, glancing at the Bitch—who looked like a gaping and cruel idiot—before looking back to Her. “But Mom-“

“She agrees to go with you, or she sticks around and dies.” She stood up, and Ben followed without a fucking thought as she continued, looking between her siblings. “I love you, and you’re going to be okay. I promise you’re going to be okay. I’m so, so sorry-“

Her voice cracked slightly, and Violet shot up, rounding the table and pulling Her into a tight hug. Sterling was close behind, and Ben kept a close fucking eye on the Bitch, in case she tried to interrupt this. But she just looked at her children, still in shock, and they pulled apart on their own time.

“You’ll be safe,” She whispered again, and when she took a shaking step back, Ben caught her and held her up. “I swear you’ll be safe. And when this is over, I’ll explain everything. But right now-“

“You have to go,” Sterling nodded, and he didn’t sound angry. “Violet told me what she knows, and we get it. You have to go.”

She nodded, giving them a soft, sad smile, and let Ben guide Her onto the street. MM and Kimiko didn’t need goodbyes—they’d see them again by fucking tomorrow anyway—and the Bitch looked like she wanted to say something, but was smart enough not to.

The Bitch should count herself lucky, that Ben cared about how he was beginning to feel sick and empty and cold—which meant that She was in pain, and needed him—a fuck ton more than he cared about wasting time on vengeance.

Right now, nothing mattered more than Her. Then getting Her into the car, and far, far away from what Ben couldn’t even fully fucking comprehend. Keeping his hand against Her thigh, trying to tide over the cracks he could feel beginning to lines his vision and the horrible sense of dread and wrong living in his blood.

Then, when She made a small, choked sound, pulling Butcher’s car off the highway and helping her climb into his lap. Letting Her bury her head in his chest and shatter there, where she’d be safe. Where Ben could hold Her in silence as she fell apart, then do whatever needed to be done for this to become fucking bearable.

Ben, I- Her words were almost fucking inaudible between their minds, Her gasps and strangled tears muffled against Ben’s body. I don’t know what to do. What do I do. 

He didn’t know. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue what to do with what they’d just learned. But he’d be damned if he just let Her break further than she needed to. 

Whatever you have to. Tell Butcher, include it in your address, keep it a secret for the rest of goddamn time. Whatever makes this shit livable.

She sold me, Her sob wracked her whole body, and Ben almost broke his fucking teeth. She fucking sold me to Homelander, and I’m not even sure when she did it. It could’ve been months ago. It could’ve been when I first resurfaced, or right before the tower, or when I first fucking met Sage-

I know. Ben grunted in the silence, drawing circles on Her back. I know, Sunshine. I know.

She nodded against him, and Her breathing, slowly, began to ease. Her heartbeat became what it was supposed to be, and they stayed there until this she let out a soft, breathy laugh, turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between her fingers.

“I’m not,” She shook Her head in Ben’s chest. “I’m not sure who lost. The bet.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “We could call it even and just fucking start over-“

“No.” Her answer was frantic but hushed, her face shooting up to look at Ben with wide eyes. “I don’t want to not talk to you. Not now. Please.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss the space between Her eyes. “Okay, Sunshine. It’s off.”

She hummed, her hands moving to hold Ben’s face. “I could, maybe I could still give you a blowjob?”

“Do you want to give me a fucking blowjob?”

“Um.” She swallowed, flushing slightly. “Yes.”

“Do I get to eat you out?”

“Yes, please.”

Ben snorted, muttering an agreement, and he still wasn’t fucking sure how he’d gotten here. Having to pull his perfect fucking wife off his lap—but keeping their hands tangled together and resting on his thigh—so he could drive her home. Bring Her somewhere safer than here, so he could hold her right and clear her head while he still had the time. Whisper promises in Her ear that he’d die to keep, about how he’d give her better than that. About how, whatever came after, Ben would keep holding her and loving her, in a way that felt almost fucking pure.

Twisted and scarred and forged somewhere dark and burning, but still pure. Incapable of ruin, incapable of being tainted or broken, just fucking love. Just a future that was brighter than what was behind them, and a life where She’d always feel safe enough to break, and always be able to get back up after.

A future Ben really damn wanted, where Her and Ryan’s smiles were never in danger of being wiped from their faces.

Where Ben just kept loving them, and they felt it, and that was the whole fucking world.

—————————

There’s only one light, flashing from Hughie’s hand as he begins the recording, but it’s still blinding and cold.

You take five deep breaths, one for every good thing that you want to do this for. Everything you want to hold onto when after comes.

Ryan. Music. Stuffed Lions. Gardens. Ben.

Hughie gives you a thumbs up—a signal to begin—and you look to Ben. A step behind Hughie, watching you carefully with a grim, set expression. Everything between your bodies is straining to make you stand and move to fall against him, but you have to do this alone. Not fully alone, never fully alone again, but standing alone. With Ben inside you—rolling around the top of your chest and rumbling in a rhythm that feels like your name—but still too far to touch. To seek the comfort of him warmth and solid certainty.

But you can still feel his love and devotion. You’re wearing the ring again—twisting it on your finger as you take one last, long, steadying breath—and it’s just another way in millions to know Ben is her, and loves you, and will burn with you. No matter how this goes, Ben will burn with you.

So you can fucking do this. You have the slightly crumpled paper in your hands with everything you need to say, and now all you have to do is talk.

You start with your name, just for clarity and the fuck of it, and begin. “You know me as the Anomaly. And I am, but not by choice. I am the Anomaly because Homelander decided I should be. Because, four years ago, he kidnapped me, faked my death, and held me hostage on, likely, Vought property. I spent first two years in complete isolation, only seeing Homelander when he visited me to rape me.” Something starts to taste vile in the back of your mouth, but you have to keep talking. If you stop now, you won’t get through this, and you’ve barely even started. “I was kept locked up for the intention of breeding, like fucking cattle. Then, after Soldier Boy returned to America, Homelander became obsessed with immortality and I was moved to a Vought lab, and experimented on by Vought scientists in order to recreate the original formula of compound V, which slowed the aging process.

“It was a successful experiment. I was given my super name, the Anomaly, because I was injected with V four times, and developed four completely isolated powers. The pyrokenesis I am known for, which I used to escape captivity, a healing factor that has made me unkillable, empathy, and sensory manipulation. I am stronger than Solider Boy. I am stronger than Homelander. For the past year since my escape, I have been fighting Vought alongside Starlight and William Butcher, but have not stood in direct opposition to Homelander due to the former volatility of my powers. I was afraid of the man who spent four years sexually, emotionally, and medically abusing me. I am not afraid anymore, and I am ready to corroborate every accusation Starlight has made against Homelander, Sage, and Vought, and talk. These are my words. I wrote them, I am saying them, and nobody is making me. So, please, listen.

“I have been working with Butcher, Starlight, and their former CIA funded team, the Boys, since June of last year. In November, after we failed to locate a possible bio-weapon against Homelander, I pitched to then President elect Robert Singer and former Deputy Director of the CIA, Grace Mallory, that Soldier Boy be woken up and used as a weapon. My plan was approved, and he was woken up in early December. Per the plan, was to I live with him in a CIA safe-house and keep him in line until Ryan Butcher was removed from Vought Tower and we had a direct, clean shot at Homelander. Soldier Boy would remove his powers with the V-wiping bomb in his chest, and then be pardoned and sent off American soil to live in exile. Nothing went…” you trail off, glancing at the continually formal speech in your hands, and give up on it. It matters that this sounds real, and none of these words sound real.

Ben is real. You’re real. This pain is real, and so is your love. 

So you crumple the paper up, and look back directly into the camera.

“Nothing went as we intended it to. I fell in love with Soldier Boy. He fell in love with me. My original plan to extract Ryan Butcher went to shit, and I had to make another. That one worked, but I ended up back in Homelander’s captivity. My team found a way to safely kill Homleander, but Sage destroyed it all at the Believe Expo, which, for the record, was not a terrorist attack. It might have technically been a robbery, but it became a play to fake A-Train’s death, and help him escape. I remained with Vought to find an alternative location of our weapon, but failed to, and escaped. Once I was safe, I didn’t want to be in the public eye. I was broken, and weak, and too fucking tired to face this myself. I helped Starlight plan and write her address in June, and it was my idea to remain away from the public eye.

But more things kept going wrong. When we found another avenue to get our hands on the weapon, we were blocked by Singer and Secretary Muller, who, As Sage has said, is my step-father. I had not spoken to him in thirteen fucking years, and he has been in direct collaboration with Sage. She has tried to paint him as a villain, and he is a terrible man, but he’s also an idiot. I would never want him in a position as powerful as Vice President of the United States, and neither would Sage, which is why she has turned on him and paved the way for Homelander to take federal office.

“Homelander cannot be allowed to take federal office. He cannot be allowed within a hundred fucking miles of the White House. He is a monster. Since both my and Ryan Butcher’s escapes, he has not stopped trying to take us back, and has been willing to kill everyone we care about to do it. And I have not been fucking innocent in this. I destroyed the rec center at Victoria Neuman’s rally. I killed Firecracker. I did not commit the Tek Night massacre in New Jersey, and I did not kill Black Noir or Grace Mallory, but I was in immediate proximity to both events. Because of Homelander. Because I have been trying to save people from him, but I have cared, and he has not. He wants to control me, control you, and kill everyone who stands in his way. But we can stop him. We found our weapon. So, Vought workers, around the world, this is for you. Get out. Jump shipwhile you still can. If you have anyone you love, anything you care about, run. Now. If you take anything away from my speech, make it this.

“Almost every plan we made got fucked. Almost everything I said I’d never do, I did. And we’ve kept going. It didn’t matter what our public image was, or has been, or will be after this. The world will not be safe until Homelander is dead. And there will be work to do after, but right now, that’s all that matters. That’s what’s coming. And Homelander,”  you narrow your eyes at the camera, leaning forward. “Ben and I are ready for you. None of us are martyrs or heroes, but this is it. I’m stronger. Ben’s stronger. And we both have something to live for, and something to die for. You don’t have either. You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, and this is it.” You raise your chin high, staring Homelander down without seeing him. “You turned me into the Anomaly. You drove Ben and I together. If you weren’t such a narcissistic sociopath, I’d probably be halfway across the world, writing academic papers and dating some foreign, normal guy. But now I’m going to kill you, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” Your face curls into a twisted smirk, born from something like liberation. Like a million pieces falling into place as you turn your attention to Ben—pounding and rioting in your body—and see your expression mirrored on his face. “I’ll see you soon, Homelander.” You look back to the camera. “We both will.”

The light of the camera turns off, the video finishes, and that’s it. You’d done what you could, said what you needed to, and now all that was to finish it. To actually, really, kill Homelander.

Hughie’s talking about how he’s going to watch the video over and upload it. Butcher’s muttering that it wasn’t half bad, and Annie’s giving you a tentative thumbs up and saying words that are probably reassuring praise.

You can’t hear any of them. All you can hear is an off-key ringing in your ears, and the pounding of your own heart as your eyes start to blur and your head starts to turn faster than you can follow. You’d missed things. You don’t really remember anything you said, but there’s so way you got everything. The speech was too short, because you’d missed things that you probably couldn’t afford to miss. No, it was too long, because you’d spent time on semantics and details that didn’t matter. It was okay to mention A-Train was alive, you’d cleared it with him first, but you hadn’t mentioned Neuman. But Neuman wasn’t a supe, and she couldn’t defend herself. And she has a kid, A-Train doesn’t have a kid. But you also hadn’t mentioned Ashley, but she’s not that importance really, but she could be. She could provide key testimony when this is done, and you need that testimony, but you’ll also need A-Train’s testimony.

You didn’t think long term. None of this had been thought in the long term. You just accused Singer of something, by saying he’d blocked the V, and he’s still going to be president after this. You should’ve mentioned the Boys more, try to exonerate them of some of their crimes, so Singer wouldn’t turn on them as well. On you. You’d just confessed to murder. Multiple murders. There’s blood on your hands and there’s a crack that’s reaching down your spine and now there’s nothing left to stop Homelander from hurting people you love.

You’d confessed to loving Ben. You’d told the world you loved Ben. And you did. And you wouldn’t take it back. Everything is cold and you can’t really breathe, but you won’t take it back. You can fight Homelander now, but it still comes in waves, and you’re still afraid. You’d said you weren’t afraid.

It was a lie. You’re so cold and tired and afraid, and you strong but not strong enough for this, and you’d just said everything and now you can’t control what happens. You’d just strung up your guts and organs and skin for all the world to see, and they may not be as careful with them as Ben is. As you need right now.

Nothing is in focus, and everything feels like it’s being knocked out of and away from you, and there’s no more light here. There’s something good that’s touching you—rubbing circles on your cheeks, holding your face between big, warm hands—and something that sounds right saying your name, but you still can’t hear anything but the blood.

Blood. So much blood on your hands and this ringing is get a key off from something that’s haunting you, and you don’t feel broken but you’re still weak. Weak and covered in blood-

You hear your name in your own head, like a thought that you didn’t create, and things start to come down as it’s repeated. Over and over like a prayer until you begin to down to earth and you’re staring at a green that you know belongs to Ben.

Ben-

You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fucking fine. It’s an order. He’s telling you that you’re not fine right now, but you will be. That, eventually, you will be fine, because there’s not another option. Ben won’t let there be another option. I’m here. I am right goddamn here, Sunshine, and you’re going fucking fine.

You nod, and drop your brow to Ben’s because it’s the only thing you know how to do. You’re still figuring out how to breathe—it helps to listen to Ben do it, because he does everything in such a firm and certain manner it has to be correct—and you can’t remember how to stand, so all you can do is fall into Ben. Stay here until your chest is falling into a pattern with his, and fold against him as he moves your head to his shoulder—pressing a soft, reverent kiss on your brow as he does—and pulls you into his arms. Let him stand up, cling to him like a lifeline, and listen to the grumbled exchanges around you.

“Is she-“

“She needs a minute.” Ben grumbles, his voice rolling through your body as he cuts Annie off. “You pussies do the plan, and we can hear it after.”

Your hands curl on Ben’s neck as you shake your head, finding to will and strength to move your head and meet his gaze.

I’m okay. You aren’t convinced by your own words, but you push on all the same. I’m really okay. We need to do this.

Ben scowls, and you can feel his ardor concentrate into something that’s coating over his ribs and trying to wrap over your skin. You are not fucking okay. You went fucking catatonic, that’s not goddamn okay-

I was not catatonic, you dramatic cunt. And I can make it through a meeting.

You can. You’re pulling yourself together. Wrinkling your nose at Ben—trading sharp words that have no edge with him—is something that you’ll always know how to do. That, somehow, grounds you just as well as Ben’s own stone resolve. You think it’s because it’s certain. You will always tease and mock each other, and Ben will always roll his eyes and glower, and you will always stick out your tongue and pout at him. And no matter what, he won’t go, and neither will you. There won’t be any lines for what you can and can’t say, because you both know it would probably kill you to hurt each other.

So you’re coming back to yourself, and it’s because Ben is scowling, and alive and loud in your chest.

I could fucking feel you, he growls your name in the heavy silence of the room, his hold on your body tightens. You need to rest-

I’ll rest after the meeting-

Or you could rest right fucking now-

Or I could rest after the meeting. Your hands move to hold his face, running his beard between your fingers as you offer him a sad but easy smile. We’re so close, Ben. We’re really, really close, and I need to do this. You can carry me upstairs and pin me to the bed to make me rest, after, but it has to be after. Please.

Swear it. Swear you’ll rest.

I’ll rest. I promise.

Ben’s jaw is clenched so tightly you’re worried he’ll break it, but you get a stiff nod as he sits down. Keeping you in his lap as he looks up, glaring at something over your head.

“Go get the rest of the fucking dumbass pussies. You get ten minutes before we fucking leave.”

“Ain’t you gonna say please, Gov-“

“No.”

You hear Butcher’s huff, and twist in Ben’s arms just in time to see him stomping away. 

It doesn’t take long to gather everyone. Annie, Hughie, and Frenchie are already here, Neuman, Ashley, and A-Train had just been waiting in the kitchen, and MM and Kimiko are still with your family, so within three minutes you’re all settled the living room, watching each other in a weary silence.

You do really want to just go rest with Ben, for all of this to be done, so you speak first.

“I have a plan-“

“Ain’t that a surprise-“

“Shove it up your ass, Butcher.” You flip him off without looking, and continue. “I’ve had a plan. It’s, it has kind of adapted to the cards we have, but it will work all the same. You guys,” your attention turns to Ashley, A-Train, and Neuman. “Need to make me a promise first, though.”

Neuman frowns, sitting up a little straighter. “What kind of promise could you need from us-“

“Mostly one about honor. Keeping your word.”

“That is so fucking vague-“

“It’s meant to be vague, Ashley.” A-Train mutters, glaring at you in a way that feels more cautious than hateful. “She’s trying to feel out how likely we are to agree.”

Ashley looks to you with wide eyes, and you sigh.

“I am.” Your words gaining a more urgent edge, because this is important. “But forgive me for not fully trusting you-“

“You tell us what sort of promise you need,” A-Train snaps over you, foot bouncing in his seat. “And as long as it’s not something really shitty, we’ll make it.”

You examine him, and he seems genuine. He mostly just looks tired. Done with all of this. You understand that, you can feel it in your bones and muscles, so you keep talking.

“I want your word that, when this is over, you’ll stay on our side. Go on the record and say everything you’ve seen and witnessed, about Vought and the government and Homelander and anything else. All the Red River shit, how you,” you nod to Neuman. “Were the Head Popper, and anything Sage ever told you. Say it again, under oath if necessary.”

Neuman’s eyes narrow. “And why would I possibly want to admit to be the Head Popper. Why would any of us want to admit anything-“

“Because this farm is about to be a war zone.” You keep your words casual and bored, but your gaze sharp. “And if you agree to work with us after, we’ll keep you out of danger and make sure your families,” you look to A-Train. “All your families, aren’t caught in the crossfire. We can negotiate your pardons and deals before we bring you out of hiding, or we can testify about all the crimes we know you committed and you just get locked up.”

“That’s not fair!” Ashley’s words are frantic. Panicked. “You’re trying to fucking blackmail us, that’s a fucking crime-“

“All of this is a crime.” You snap, giving Ashley a daggered glare. “But we’re about to be the people that killed Homelander. You can either work with us, or not. It’s up to you.”

There’s a moment of heavy, painful silence, and you’re not sure if they’re trying to call your bluff, but there isn’t one. You’re past bluffs, here. Now it’s just about survival, and knowing if you can trust them with anything.

Finally A-Train coughs, and something like lead dissipates in your blood.

“Fine. Deal.”

His tired, flat voice spurs Neuman and Ashley into action, and you get two more reluctant agreements. There will be more time for details later. What deals you can cut and what you’ll need them to take the stand on can wait, because now you have to talk about the plan. It’s immediate and so fucking fragile, and you finally have your shot. You can’t waste valuable time before you take it.

“Good.” You look around the room, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm as you calculate every word, every risk, everything that could go wrong and everything that will go wrong, and still know that this is your best bet. This is what has to be done. “We’ll get them to a safe house with Zoe until this is over, and Homelander will come to us. It’s empty up here, and Edgar won’t miss this place if it gets destroyed in the fight. All his livestock died in November, and he’s not getting out of prison anytime soon, so I’m comfortable making this collateral. We’ll lure him, booby-trap the fuck out of the grounds, and disorient him enough for someone to get the drill into him. Frenchie-“

“It will be ready tomorrow. A projectile, and I can make many.” Frenchie looks around the group with a grim expression. “One shot. A single hit, and it will if my work is correct, wedge in his skin, and the V will be shot into his system by a trigger.”

Butcher frowns. “We got enough of this shit for mass production-“

“Oui.” Frenchie gives one, firm nod. “A small amount, a micro-dose, will be more than effective. Just one,” Frenchie makes a sound, miming a syringe. “And the fucker will go down like it is nap time, and he is having a sugar crash.”

“Awesome,” you chew on your tongue, squeezing your hand on Ben. “Then all that we’ll have to do-“

We. Ben grunts in your head, and you can feel something in him grow powerful and bloody. You’re not getting fucking near that Star-caped pussy-

It was the royal we, Benjamin. You twist in his lap, giving him a pointed glare. And I can fight Homelander. I’m stronger-

I fucking know that. I am not worried about how fucking strong you are, I’m worried about you-

“You twats care to involve us in your little fuckin spat?” Butcher drawls, and you turn to see him looking more annoyed than angry. “Cause if it’s ‘bout the bloody mission we’re all riskin our asses for, we should put it up for vote-“

“None of your goddamn business-“

“You don’t want her near the fight, Gov, ain’t that it?” Butcher smirks, but there’s something hollow behind it. “Worried she may get hurt when Homelander decides he ain’t playin nice? That you might lose ‘er because she’ll make some stupid fuckin sacrifice and you ain’t gonna have nothin left to live for?”

You think Ben is going to murder Butcher. And you might have let him, is you couldn’t feel the powerful and bloody thing start to rot. To twist and cave in on itself, and swing back and forth between a fury that’s pushing around his chest and out of his body, and a molding, aching pain that’s climbing up his spine and into his heart.

Ben. Is Butcher, you pause, waiting for Ben’s violet glare to turn to you and soften slightly. Is he right.

He’s tearing himself apart. There’s something like a tornado or hurricane in Ben’s body, and you can almost hear how it’s hurting him in his grunted, Yes.

I’ll be okay, Ben. I can’t die-

I fucking know that. It’s not- His scowl becomes mostly lines on his face, and his whole body is only made of the aching storm. I am not losing you.

You won’t lose me-

And I fucking know, and I don’t fucking care. He’s not yelling between your heads, but his voice is loud, and almost fucking hopeless in a way that breaks your heart. You’re more than damn stronger enough to fight him, and I don’t fucking want you to. You are goddamn capable and brilliant and strong, and I don’t want you anywhere fucking near this shit. You can’t start fucking breaking again and expect me to just be fine with throwing my wife into a goddamn fight with Homelander. A cowardly fucking pussy psychopath who’s not going pull punches, who’s going to try and take away the only two people I give a fuck about, the only people I’ve ever fucking loved, and if I lose them it will be my own goddamn fault for letting them get hurt when I should’ve fucking kept them safe-

You can’t let him keep doing this to himself, because you understand. You and Ryan are all Ben has, and he’s not going allow himself to put you in harm’s way. You can fight him on this, and probably win, and if something does, somehow, go wrong, Ben won’t ever forgive himself. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for the first time, and the second time would destroy him, the same way your second time had broken you.

And you’d stay with him. When you found your way back to Ben, you’d stay with him until the storm passed, even if it took a hundred years. He’d grow paranoid and wake you up with explosions of golden light from his chest, but he’d still be Ben, the same way you’re still you.

But if you can do anything for him, offer him anything that’s truly vital, it’s sparing him that pain. It’s bending, just for this, because you know Ben will fight with a clear, determined, focused wrath if he knows Ryan is safe with you, and you’re both far away from Homelander.

You don’t really want to see Homelander die anyway. There’s nothing sadistic or bloodthirsty in your body, because you’re so tired of pain and sick of blood on your hands. Hearing the words Homelander’s dead, seeing his small husk of a body, and marrying Ben in a world where Homelander will never hurt anyone again will be all you need.

So you kiss Ben in a soft, gentle way that makes his hands on your body relax and the mold in his body start to fade as the glow grows, and look back to your team. Waiting silently for you and Ben to finish.

“I’ll take Ryan. He and I will go with them,” you nod to Neuman, Ashley, and A-Train. “And hide until the mission is done. You’ll get the V into Homelander, Ben will blast him, and Butcher will shoot him. And that will be it.”

There are small, nervous nods, and Hughie clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

“What about, um, what about Sage-“

“I’ll take care of it. I just need a day.” You lean back into Ben’s body, looking around the room with your most firm, immovable expression. You might have copied Ben’s—a set jaw, deep lines on your face, and an unspoken glint in your eyes that says I know what the fuck I’m doing—but it does the trick all the same. Nobody pushes you, and that’s it.

You have a fucking plan.

Everyone shuffles off to eat or talk or pretend that Homelander won’t be here in before the week is over. That everything isn’t either going to have crumbled or begin to grow again, and it all rides on getting this right. On not missing, or fucking up, and having each other’s backs. 

It would be easy to spiral again. To drown in what’s coming, and every way I could go wrong. But Ben doesn’t waste any time, and before your brain can invite the doubt or panic knocking against your skull to be explored, he’s moving. Carrying you upstairs to your bedroom, kicking the door closed behind you, locking it without a word, and lowering you both carefully onto the stiff mattressed, itchy blanket bed that’s still comfortable, because Ben is here with you. Warm  and strong under your touch, muscles flexing whenever he breathes, and the only thing you might ever really need.

Neither of you look to move, or go further. All that feels necessary right now is to have Ben. To feel to drum of his heart when you rest your head on his chest, and the soft hair of his beard when your fingers drift over his face. To smell pine and coffee and strawberries and know that he’s here. That he’s safe and solid, and nothing is going to take this instinct of Ben away from you.

You think it’s all he wants as well. His hands are moving over your body, but the only heat they leave is made of affection and care. Ben’s touch always makes you feel loved, but this makes you feel needed. Like there’s a direct line from Ben’s fingers tracing up your spine and over your hips into your nerves, and it shoots every single piece of his love right into your brain. Assures you that Ben is as natural as breathing, and he loves you, and every beat of his heart belongs to you because every turn of your head belongs to him. That, no matter what comes, you really will be safe, because there’s no other option when you’re loved like this.

It’s silent for a long while—only the sound of bird-song out the window and Ben’s breath near your ear—and you’re not sure how much time has passed when Ben’s low, rough voice sounds in your head.

You find a way to get yourself fucking killed with this, and I’ll leave you, Sunshine.

You let out a soft laugh, propping your chin on Ben’s chest to meet his attentive, wrathful, painfully in love gaze. No, you won’t.

The fuck I won’t-

You won’t. You’ll get all angry and violent and sad and kill a bunch of people about it, and then get even sadder and angrier because you’ll remember I would’ve been pissed at you for doing that, and then you’ll go cry at my grave for the third time that day. You’ll be the mean, old, handsome graveyard coke-snorter, right up until the inevitable heat death of the universe finally gets your ass.

Ben scowls, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything in his eyes is made of that bitter feeling, but under it you can still feel the glow. Shining out and rushing through your body, making everything inside you soft and restful, but still alive. More alive than you’ve ever really been before Ben, and as alive as you plan to feel for the rest of time.

Nobody’s given me any fucking coke. He grumbles in your head, and you know he’s trying to change the topic. That the bitter feeling is born from the thought of your death, no matter how impossible that is, and you’re more than willing to abandon that conversation. You’d think for a bunch of goddamn criminals, these pussies would’ve found some coke-

I bet Frenchie has some. You smile at him, kissing a gentle line over his jaw. And if you asked very, very nicely, he might share with you.

Ben grunts, and hand moving to your hair to guide your face up, hovering right over his. “When this shit is over, I’ll get that coke, and we’re doing it together.”

“I love you, Benjamin, but I am not doing cocaine-“

He cuts you off with a soft, long, easy kiss, chuckling at how fast you fall onto him. How easy it is for him to touch your right and make you fold without any struggle, and how you have no desire to fight against that.

“It won’t do a damn thing to you, Sunshine, you’ve got a higher tolerance than I do.” He presses another, almost sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, muttering against your skin. “And if it does, I’ll get to see you all fucked up again.”

You flush, dropping your face into his neck. Can we please forget that happened-

Not a damn chance. You can feel his smile as he kisses the side of your head, hear his amusement in the silence. Fucked up you was very open with me. She told me I was beautiful.

You are beautiful. You mumble into his head, tangling your fingers into his hair. So shut up.

I’m hot as fuck, darling. He chuckles, tracing patterns on your back. But you’re more beautiful. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever goddamn seen.

Ben-

You are. Don’t get all fucking modest on me-

You rise back up, holding Ben’s face between your hands and studying his face. You already have it memorized, every deep line and rugged feature and bright color, but you’ll never get tired of looking at it. Of looking at him.

I’m not modest. You kiss the tip of his nose, and Ben’s hands on your body still. I get to marry a very grumpy man who’s the most attractive cunt in the universe, and who’s willing to share his cocaine with me. Why would I be modest about that?

A low growl rumbles from Ben’s chest, and he flips you onto your back with a yelp. Caging you between the bed and his body, kissing everywhere he can reach on your face and neck and collarbone, grinning as you let out a high, needy sound and tilts you head back to grant him any access he wants.

Such a fucking brat, beautiful. He moves his knee between your legs, groaning as you start to grind against him. I love you so goddamn much, you drive me fucking insane-

“Ben.” You try to pull his face back to yours, your voice a breathless, pleading gasp. “No sex in the house-“

He crashes back up, his kiss bruising and turning your body into something molten and desperate for more. Singing just for Ben, Ben, Ben, who cares if Butcher walks in because Ben will shield you and you’re unraveling under him and you’ve never felt safer-

“You owe me a blowjob in the forest,” he mutters against you. “And I get to eat you out wherever the fuck you want-“

You gather all your will through your haze of Ben, and shake your head weakly. “Not here. Not now. But later, Ben, please, please fuck me, please-“

He pulls back, grinning down at your likely ruined and lustful expression, his love made of an awe you can see on his face and a devotion you can feel in his chest.

“Christ,” he says your name, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. “You’re confusing your fucking self. You want me to fuck you, yes or no.”

You whine, and his grin grows, even as his tone becomes stern.

“Words-“

“I,” you pause, reaching up to just touch him, and shake your head. “Not now. After.”

He nods, and catches your wrist, moving your hand to his mouth and kissing over your knuckles. Where.

Can I think about it?

Ben laughs, and drops down to kiss you in an easy, slow way that doesn’t need to be more. You’re fucking going to anyway.

You will. Later, you’ll dedicate a whole hour to figuring out where you want to see Ben’s head between your legs, and where you want to scream his name. You already have some ideas, but it will need your full attention, which is something you can’t quite spare today. Because—once Ben decides you’re fully rested, and removes his weight from over your body—you have work to do.

Your speech hadn’t been a bait for Sage, but it would function as a lure. Something for her to latch onto, and want answers for. And sure enough, when MM and Kimiko return, it’s with news that Sage had called and demanded a meeting. Just you and her, on neutral ground, with terms of no Homelander, no Ben.

“There is not a fucking chance-“

You squeeze Ben’s hand, giving him a sharp but gentle glare. “I can handle this, my love.”

“I’m not worries about you handling it,” he hisses. “Sage is a manipulative bitch, and we don’t know what the hell she wants-“

“It won’t matter what she wants.” You shrug, looking back to MM. “Find somewhere quiet, maybe in Vermont, and tell her to meet me there.”

Ben growls your name, and you ignore him.

“I’m not stupid enough to fully go alone, so I’ll drive, drop you and my very grumpy, overprotective husband off somewhere close but not obvious for backup, and pick you up after.”

Everything in Ben stumbles and bursts into a consuming, bloody glow, and you know you’ve won. The moment you called him your husband you’d felt all of Ben’s will and fight dissolve, and you’re going to have to figure out a way to actually marry him by the end of the month, because his face might be the best one you’ve ever seen, this feeling the best one you’ve ever experienced. All you ever want to experience again. 

It only takes a day for MM and Sage to make arrangements. Sage keeps insisting to speak with you directly, MM keeps refusing, and eventually Sage relents with the condition that she gets to choose the location.

A little roadside diner in upstate New York, right off of a postcard and shielded from the sky by a green, overgrown forest that makes your breathing a little easier. The air is warm and a little humid from a storm that had left puddles in the parking lot and glittering drops on water on the windows, and when you park the stolen car—Ben and MM waiting at a gas station about ten minutes away and, hopefully, not killing each other—you take a long breath.

You have everything you need. You know everything you need to say. This will be hard, and then it will be over. All you have to do is move.

When you push the door of the diner open, small bell rings and the diner is mostly empty. You didn’t expected Sage to be here, you arrived an hour early in the very hope she wouldn’t be, so you sit at a corner booth that faces the door, and mostly just wait.

When Sage does arrive, she sees you immediately. A cold smile crosses her face as she drops down across from you, examining the table carefully.

“There’s no trap.” You say, keeping your voice bored and neutral. “It’s just a table.”

Sage looks up, her smile becoming snake-like.

“I’d apologize, but both you yourself and the company you keep hasn’t been known to be honorable. I’d have to be stupid to discount you putting a bomb under a public table, and I’m not stupid.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Big talk about honor, when I know the deal you made with my fucking mother.”

“I won’t apologize for taking an open opportunity-“

“Because you’re a fucking bitch.” You shrug, holding her gaze with your own, tired, flat one, tapping your fingers on the sugar shaker. “We both know you’re not sorry about any of this, and we both know that you’re a heartless cartoon supervillain, so what do you want.”

Sage’s lips curl into what might be the only real grin you’ve ever seen on her hateful face. “I really do like you,” she says your name, and you believe her. “I think, if you’d become a supe when you were a baby, we’d have been friends.”

“I like to think I’d still have a soul if that happened-“

“We all like to think things that like. But we’re just animals. Well, they’re just animals. You’re just an animal.”

You tilt your head, flagging down the waitress for two coffees. “And you’re not? You’re a god, like Homelander?”

“No.” Sage’s sounds almost amused. “Gods are still dependent on humans. To be created, maintained, remembered. I don’t care for that. What I care for is perfection. Something far better than humanity, something free of their selfish ignorance-“

“With the V.” You can’t stop your whisper as you put it together, watching Sage with a sharp, careful attention. “That’s why you want the V formula. To make more, and finish Vought’s plan with it.”

“Not Vought’s exact plan. He was caught in the primitive, pointless ideology of race supremacy. But this is about species supremacy. About human’s being ungrateful for what they’ve been given, and needing to be eradicated like the disease to the world that they are. But nobody is meant to know that yet. You…” she trails off, and her face curls into something that chills your bones. “You found the Cornucopia.”

Your silence is her answer, and she lets out a laugh that makes your skin crawl.

“I must say, you’ve managed to surprise me again. Putting that together yourself, and that video.” She shakes her head, looking you up and down. “That was one of the smarter moves you’ve made. I’m impressed.”

You hum, holding her gaze. “But?”

“But it was still reckless. I’d already planned for it, and although you said things I’d counted out, such as admitting to your affair with Soldier Boy, or to killing Firecracker, but I’ll adapt, and you’ll still lose.”

“I wouldn’t call it an affair,” you hum, frowning at the sugar shaker. “I’d call it falling in love.”

Sage makes a sound of amusement. “Love isn’t permanent. As I’ve tried to tell you, Soldier Boy will be a violent, angry man for the rest of his life. You’re the most powerful supe alive. You have the public in the palm of your hand, and you could spend all eternity making something perfect. You could go play house,” she gives the ring on your finger a pointed look. “With Solider Boy and the son of your rapist, or you could see what you can really do. Create a world without pain,  create a world with only pain, fix human’s messes for the rest of time or finally give up on them. I could cleanse you of your little pestilence of a team, hiding like roaches in Maine, and you could fight Homelander one on one. Give him the gruesome death we both know he more than deserves. You could even keep Soldier Boy as a pet, and still be-“

“If you say interesting.” You drawl. “I’ll punch you again. And Ben isn’t my pet, and Ryan isn’t just Homelander’s son.” You lean over the table, narrowing your eyes. “They’re my family. All of them. I don’t really want to see what I can do, Sage. I think I just want this to be done.”

“You truly do believe your love for Soldier Boy is an exception, don’t you. That it’s not just a temporary chemical reaction, that can be manufactured just as easily as a spoon, or diaper?”

You sit a little taller in your seat, staring down the obvious disgust on Sage’s face. “I think that you were right. That by all logical sense, I shouldn’t have ever loved Ben. But I do. And I will, long after this over. So speak very carefully when you talk about him, because I’m very forgiving of things you say about me,” you drop your voice to a hiss, letting a little bit of fire light up in your eyes. “But I will not be forgiving of things you say about him.”

“And that’s the thing, isn’t it.” Sage looks you up and down, and her voice almost sounds disappointed. “In the end you’re still too human. Too emotional. A worthy opponent, but still just a little too weak.”

Love hasn’t made you weak. If anything, love might be the only thing you’re certain makes you strong. Pulls you apart before putting you back together, just a little better and sturdier than you’d been before.

So you don’t break. You take your coffee from the waitress, and look back to Sage with your best, innocently curious expression.

“Can I ask you a question?”

If Sage is surprised by your pivot, she doesn’t show it, only nodding for you to continue.

“How smart do you think you’d have been?” You watch her carefully, leaning back as you add sugar to your mug. “If they hadn’t given you the V?”

Sage only shrugs, taking the sugar as you set it back onto the table. “That doesn’t matter, because we can trade hypotheticals all day, but in the end, I am smarter. Better. In the end, I’ll win. I’ll work out how to get rid of you when you become more of an annoyance than interesting, and you be dirt in the ground with your precious Soldier Boy. Just as love says you should be.”

“Or,” you watch as Sage pours the sugar into her cup, and look up at her with a wide smile. “I could marry him. And like an impossibly long, incredibly interesting life with someone who I love. I’d never be bored, but I would be happy.” You pause, looking Sage over with your best gentle concern. “Are you happy?”

Sage almost scoffs. “I am not concerned about happiness-“

“You should be.” You shrug, stirring a small spoon in your mug. “I’m happy. There are long, horrible moments where I’m afraid and in pain, but then I’m happy again. And I wasn’t ever sure I’d get that. A life where I get love someone like this, and they love me back, and, I mean, have you seen the Princess Bride?”

Sage’s mouth tics, and you know she’s noticed you’re running the conversation. “I don’t watch many movies. They’re pointless, and I have more important issues-“

“It’s a great movie. It was put into failed production several times before 1987, but the key was you couldn’t take it too seriously. It’s a love story, but it’s also an outright ridiculous drama-“

You’re cut off as Sage sneers your name, but you don’t drop your easy, blissful smile. “I know we both enjoy speaking, but I do have a company to get back to. Work to do. So if we could move on to discussing your video-“

“Just one second.” You keep your voice sweet and dreamy as you continue to ramble. “I got Ben to watch the Princess Bride. I think he might have already seen it, because he wasn’t paying attention, but he never pays attention. He mostly just stares at me and tries to pretend he doesn’t have a boner. I love him so much.”

Sage snaps your name, you ignore her, and she dumps half the canister of sugar into her mug.

“See, he thinks the whole pirate thing is cool. He told me that he’d make the best fucking pirate, and come right back to me. There wasn’t a damn reason to stay away for five fucking years.And I’ve told him that I agree. He’s fast and skilled enough to win the duel, and strong enough to beat the giant, and he already has the drug tolerance for iocane powder. He has the drug tolerance for most anything. There are actually only two things he can’t tolerate. Your gas, and my empathy suppressant. Nobody can tolerate my empathy suppressant except for me. Frenchie said it makes brains leak out of ears.”

Sage hums, looking vaguely interested. “An empathy suppressant? Does it severe the limbic system-“

“Bombs it. Entirely.”

“Which you would obviously survive.” She muses, taking a long, slow sip of her coffee. “But I would likely survive as well, given my targeted healing factor.”

“Maybe.” You prop your elbows on the table, your bright smile dropping to a crude grin. “Let’s find out.”

You see the moment it hits her. Just a second after the words leave your mouth, her eyes widen and she starts to cough. To try and push the coffee out of her system, her entire face covered in hatred and angry and fear—real, primal fear like a deer in headlights or a child who’s had a nightmare—and then nothing at all.

Frenchie had been right. It was instant, and something red was leaking out of Sage’s ears as she slumped forward, onto the table.

It hadn’t been fool-proof, your plan. You’d made Ben crushed up the suppressant with a knife—he was good at that, and you liked watching his arms flex as he worked—and filled up one of Edgar’s saltshakers. Swapped it onto the table, and prayed that Sage wouldn’t think you were that stupid. That if she thought you were going to kill her, that’s you’d be more calculated and careful about it. That she didn’t believe you’d do something so obvious and blatant, that you’d want more information out of her, that this whole thing was a genuine meeting and not an assassination.

Her brain shouldn’t regenerate, there’s none of it left, but you’re not going to take any risks. You drag Sage out of the booth—ignoring the silent, petrified attention of every other person in the diner and taking the sugar dispenser with you—and into the parking lot, finding a spot with no cars, no grass, and no wood before dropped her onto the pavement. You spare the sugar dispenser, and the suppressant inside it, only one look before they’re tossed onto Sage’s body, and you send both up into flames.

You can still feel Ben. You won’t be able to soon, you’d drank the suppressant as well, but you can know. He’s silently furious and made of a zealous, focused care that’s been bouncing around your chest since you’d separated.

I’m done. You mutter down your line, letting the flames move to your feet, letting people crowd at the windows and only focusing on how there is one less thing to be afraid of, and how Ben flashes through your blood as you speak. I’ll be there soon.

Did you-

She’s dead.

Good. Ben’s voice grunts in your head, and you can almost feel him. Over the smoke you can smell pine, and feel something warm that isn’t born from you, but still a part of you. Fucking bitch.

You let out a small, easy laugh. She was, wasn’t she.

Damn right she was. There’s a pause, and then, I love you. I really fucking love you, and I am ready for this to be fucking over. We’re going to kill Homelander, and never hear the word Vought again. Deal?

You probably look insane. You’re standing over Sage’s twisted and brunt corpse and letting the flames climb back over your body, sink back into your skin, and turn your clothing to scorched ash as you smile. A wide smile that covers your whole face as you live only inside your body, with Ben. In all his love, and how certain he sounds that, by next week, Homelander will only be a body with empty, cold eyes and you will live a long, happy, perfect life with Ben.

Deal.

End Note: Sage your funeral will be the most pathetic one in history mark my words. Also someone let Ben yell about getting married he's gonna lose it.

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@ej13928

[frvmewxrk]

i’m in my analysing good omens era and i was just thinking at how aziraphale’s and crowley’s love languages are a big part of the reason it took them so long to figure out their reciprocated love.

when you’re a demon, an unforgivable creature, you don’t deserve to hear that you’re loved. demons don’t go around telling each other nice things, what they do if they want to show it, is acts of services.

a demon wouldn’t tell you you’re good, but they would cover up your duties for you and say that it’s so you owe them a favour which they will never claim, they wouldn’t say they love you but they would linger on your doorstep for a bit too long and steal your scarf as an excuse to meet you again.

and that’s what crowley does, he keeps aziraphale company and he makes him try food, he says that it’s to tempt him when it’s just an excuse to see the angel happy, he saves you from death situations and says that it’s because your substitute would be more of a bother than you are.

crowley never tells aziraphale anything, and that’s his way of showing him he loves him.

but when you’re an angel, doing nice things for each other is the norm, it’s the way to show the universe that you’re Good.

angels don’t go around giving each other’s things or doing your work for you, because that should be what you would do to anyone. if an angel gives you money, it’s not because they love you, it’s because they’re a good selfless person.

aziraphale does that countless times, he gives people his stuff, he never asks for money, he uses more miracles than necessary even if it means that he’ll get a reprimand just so he can help strangers on the street. acts of services for an angel are just intertwined in their essence.

so the only way to actually show it is to talk. if an angel loves someone, they have to tell them, if they love someone they tell them that they’re good and that they’re worth it. aziraphale positively lights up any time someone compliments him, because that’s what he needs to know that he’s loved.

so aziraphale tells crowley he’s good even if he knows that will make crowley skittish, aziraphale tells crowley that he always comes to save him to praise him for his caring, he tells crowley that he needs him and that’s the most loving words he could say, because what does an ethereal creature capable of anything need from anyone? their love, probably.

but they don’t understand each other.

crowley uses acts of service and aziraphale takes it as his way to show his forbidden goodness to the world, aziraphale uses words of affirmation and crowley thinks that’s his way of feeling better about himself for consorting with a demon.

why is 1941 and crowley saving his books so important for their relationship? because i think that’s when aziraphale realised the truth, crowley had already done his “good” act, he had already proved as he did countless times that he is not the usual demon and he’s actually nice, but saving something just because he knows aziraphale cares about that, and giving no excuse for his action, that’s something else.

it was the first act done, in aziraphale’s eyes, for no reason other than love.

aziraphale then tells him that he could do something for him in return, people interpret it as sexual (which i find very funny, mind you) but i think it’s just aziraphale’s way of telling crowley that he can also show him his love through acts, if that’s what crowley wants, he can save him back if that will mean crowley will realise that he loves him too.

and that’s why i also think that crowley is not very sure about the love being reciprocated, because he never had the realisation that aziraphale is always around him and telling him nice things because that’s how he can show his love.

and it is even worsened in the end, because if crowley knew, he would have waited for him.

it can be seen as a selfish act on crowley’s part, wanting your lover to put you over saving the universe, but i think it’s because crowley doesn’t know what aziraphale is doing. he can’t know that aziraphale is actually disregarding all of his feelings for the greater good, because crowley doesn’t know about these feelings.

what he thinks is that what he always thought was true, his angel doesn’t love him back and he chose heaven over him.

if they actually talked, it would’ve been resolved.

but the problem is that they don’t talk, they cling to their love and beliefs and they think that the other has finally caught up, and they are so convinced that they know everything of each other that they don’t find the need to do it.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

sigh

i’m not going to lie, my heart is feeling a lot of different things right now.

P1 — George ‼️‼️‼️‼️ fuck yeahhhhh he deserves it for sureeeee!! i loved it, i am sooooo happy for him, especially when he did the pose. it was an absolutely amazing race for him, and im so proud of him

P2 — Lewis ‼️ BRUH. dude went from p10 to p2 and reminded toto about his shelf life, didn’t he? fuck yeah, man. lewis is such a phenomenal driver and i loved him his race for him.

P3 — Carlos ‼️‼️ dude’s fighting with his own team, as he should. i was so mad at the swap positions, but he really said, “fuck your team” and performed beautifully.

charles, the radio message was just plain fucking rude. i love him as a driver, but i have been liking him less as a person, because that radio message was just not acceptable. otherwise tho, he performed well, he defended well, and im gonna give him a thumbs up of good job, but nothing more.

max is the world champion once again ‼️‼️‼️ while the championship “fight” was fun, let’s be honest, that the gap was too big and mclaren kept fucking up with strategies throughout the year. i’m really proud of him, i love him. i just don’t like his fans.

lando, my sweet baby. the car clearly did not have the pace today. i mean, we saw that. i know the antis are going to blame lando, but i really think it’s the car. neither oscar, nor lando had the pace today and it was honestly sad. he finished his race, he did good. i hope he doesn’t beat himself too much about this. he can and is contributing for the wcc.

oscar, again, the pace was terrible. i mean, the gaps just kept on increasing. i did love the few overtakes he did. wcc has always been mclaren’s main goal, so i guess, all they have to do is out score ferrari now for the last two races.

i’m super happy for the top three and max, and i’m really sad for lando, not because he didn’t win, but because we know he’s going to beat himself up for it.

i suppose it’s time to stay off socials again, because obviously, the fans are going to throw the wdc in our faces, and i’ve got exams, i don’t have time for that shit.

[kumabeom]

saudade love 🫧

seventeen : i can do it with a broken heart

synopsis : actress!yn and actor!soobin are forced by their companies to date as a publicity stunt to promote their latest releases. however what’s to happen when yn and soobin spend more and more time together even though yn’s closest friend is keeping secrets.

my sweet love, yn, how i love you oh so very much. how i wish to wake up to your warmth every day. every single day is so worth living, because im able to see you everyday. how you melt away all my problems with your warmth that is stronger than the sun. how you pull me into a hug and i can automatically feel your radiant heat. i feel like im in heaven when i am in your arms.

it’s not that i want you, which i do, but it’s that i need you.

you’re the joy in my life. the reason that im able to go to sleep and wake up without a singular worry in my mind.

but sometimes you’re the reason for my sleepless nights.

the nights that i spend thinking about you. thinking about what we can do together on an adventure with each other.

we’ve spent so much time together, originally it was something i didn’t want. something that you didn’t want. because we both thought we would ruin our lives by going with what our hearts wanted. was it so wrong to love the person i worked with? what if the company found out and they were unhappy with our decision? would be forced to break up?

relationships, all relationships are full of questions. the future is full of questions. at times you’ll question to yourself if you even feel happy with me by your side.

and i won’t be upset if you one day decide to leave my side, why would i be? your future is yours and my future is mine. but for my future, i always want to see you happy. if it’s with me or not.

this all sounds like im trying to part ways with you, but im not. of course not. not when you’re the person i love the most in the world.

when you’re the person who keeps me going. the person who i can always go to when things are not going so well.

my love.

you will always be my love. want to spend every moment with you. want to cherish your love. want to bathe in your warmth.

it’s all so selfish.

to want you. to need you.

but i can’t deny it any longer.

you’re my true one and only.

i know it. and i don’t have any doubts about it.

how can someone like you not be my one and only.

and you’re so unique, i’ll never find anyone in the world like you, yn.

all i need.. is you.

i’m reminded of your love every morning that i wake up and see the flowers that you get me on my desk, fully basking in the sunlight. the second i wake up and there’s a good morning message as soon as i open my phone. when you burst into my room right after i respond, and we just cuddle in bed for a while.

you always wondered why i used to comfort you so much when your alleged scandals were reported by the media..

yn, i always did that.. i always wanted to be by your side because i felt like you didn’t deserve the amount of negative attention you were getting. false accusations, lies, they have the power to ruin you, to ruin everything.

yn, i really love you. i always will.

i promise to you that i’ll always be by your side. i’ll always be the person you can turn to when you need a hug, or when you’re having a bad day. i’ll be that person. i want you to be happy. i promise to make you happy. to continue all the loving acts that i hope are enough to make you feel loved.

i promise myself to you, yn.

oh it was so ironic. the way soobin was now remembering his little ‘speech’ that he was going to use. a red velvet box in his pocket, special necklace inside of it. soobin made it back into your shared apartment, he knew you weren’t there, probably off with yeonjun, already moving on from him.

soobin didn’t want to let his mind wander on you too much. he didn’t want to feel pain from your departure, he was the one who brought it up, and you were the one who betrayed him. he didn’t even try to give himself a chance to miss him, no because why would he miss the person who hurt him so so much.

he placed the box on the coffee table. sitting himself on the couch, the same couch that he had spent with you, the first time that the two of you watched ‘10 things i hate about you’ together. fuck. he hasn’t meant to reminisce on his memories with you. he quickly got up from the couch, entering the restroom, washing off his makeup to remove the icky feeling of it.

you, on the other hand, were also not doing so well. yes, you had turned to yeonjun for help, but it wasn’t anything that wasn’t out of the ordinary. the two of you were friends, and only friends. you knew that and he knew that, the two of you had been friends for so so long that it nearly felt like you were siblings.

you laid your head back, hitting yeonjun’s couch, no matter how many times he asked you to sleep in his bed, you always declined. a thin yet soft blanket covered your body, as much as yeonjun wanted to offer you comfort, you told him that you would rather just go to sleep. yeonjun was smarter than to fall for your bluff, he walked into the dark room, laying down on his loveseat and covering himself with the blanket that he dragged from his room.

your staring contest with the ceiling ended, turning on your side to face yeonjun.

“isn’t it crazy..?” yeonjun speaks up, a tiny smirk on his face, not that you could even see it, it was nearly pitch black. the only reason you even noticed he was walking in the room was because of the very small creak in the floor.

“what is ?” you questioned, yeonjun couldn’t help but sit up, hoping to get a few words out of you.

“i don’t know.. i was just hoping you would spill what happened…”

“you know you could’ve just asked..” you felt your silk pajamas, a pair that you always left at yeonjun’s place in the case of an emergency movie night, beginning to stick to you as you began to feel a little warm. typically when you had a serious deep conversation with yeonjun, you always got nervous, that feeling always occurred because you knew you would have a break down due to whatever the topic was that you would feel so sad.

“what’s wrong, yn? what happened between you and soobin.” yeonjun questioned, taking your advice to ask you straightforwardly, even though you had rejected his request a few hours ago.

“i think.. well i kinda know, i know that yeji set us up.. remember when i said that yeji told me that you needed me..” yeonjun hummed in response, remembering the situation clearly. “well.. you didn’t.. but she took the chance to spew whatever nonsense to soobin.. and at first i kinda understood that maybe whatever she said might’ve gotten to his head.. he was saying that he knows that you and i are a thing, and i turned it down.. and i wanted to be so so patient, but i couldn’t. and at one point i just kind of gave up, i just got really mad and i told him that if he wanted to end our whole relationship then he could’ve just said so.. and then he did..” you felt your eyes beginning to sting, a small sigh leaving your lips after you finished.

“and i don’t know if he really did want to end it, i don’t know if i was maybe being too harsh, or if maybe he just believed whatever yeji told him.. but i also think that, why would he believe yeji.. yeji who had always seemed to know where we were, the same yeji who barged into his trailer that one day, yeji who has been spreading fake rumors about me..”

yeonjun felt his heart drop, he wasn’t sure if what you had been saying was true or if you were just saying something due to your anger. “yn, what do you mean?”

“yeonjun… isn’t it so obvious that it’s yeji..? all of this started when i got with soobin, when we announced our relationship..”

“yn, that doesn’t mean anything, surely you’ve just got things mixed up.. yeji is our bestfriend and i’m nearly sure that she wouldn’t be spreading fake rumors about you..”

“yeonjun.. i get it, but she told soobin something, she’s capable of anything.. she’s not my bestfriend.. not anymore.. not after what she just did. and my whole situation with soobin, she 100% orchestrated that.. there’s no doubt about it at all.” yeonjun sighed, he agreed with you for the most part, except for this whole yeji rumor situation. originally yeonjun was going to tell you that yeji wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, so why would she spread false rumors, but to be honest, he was also certain that soobin was misled by yeji. it didn’t mean that yeonjun felt bad for soobin, afterall he did watch as you internally struggled; attempting to deal with the heartbreak without letting a smile leave your face until yeonjun dragged you to his place.

“yeonjun.” you whispered, he could hear your voice beginning to tremble, this was the beginning. the beginning of your heartbreak, the first few signs that you were truly going through something. the questions placed in your head, the doubts, the worry.. yeonjun hummed once again, letting you know that he was still listening. “we are just friends right ? we’ve never done anything that is weird or inappropriate in stance of our friendship..”

“yn, we are not the problem. you are not the problem. there is nothing we have ever done to seem like we are even remotely interested in each other in a romantic way. if soobin wants to project his insecurities he can. but yn, you’re like a sister to me and i don’t want to ruin our bond because soobin and yeji decided to play games and mess around.” yeonjun was right. the two of you had multiple of boundaries to ensure a sibling like relationship that wouldn’t hurt anyone. neither you or him. you’ve never had feeling for yeonjun.

you hadn’t ever seen him in that kind of light, yeonjun had a moment where he questioned his friendship with you, but that time he realized that you were more than just his friend, rather you were like his sister.

you pulled up the blanket up to your chin. “thank you, jun.. thanks for letting me stay.. and for getting me out of the party, and thanks for always listening to me..”

yeonjun let out an exasperated sigh, “to think he wanted to replace me, but he can’t even listen to you, it’s what i do best.. i literally majored in psychology.”

“.. no you didn’t..” you responded, small giggle leaving your lips as you heard yeonjun’s white lie. that was the reaction he wanted, he wanted to hear you laugh, he didn’t want to see you going through such a rough heartbreak. he knew you had to at some point during your life, but he wanted to help alleviate the sadness you would go through.

you found yourself exactly in the situation that you wanted to avoid. heart throbbing as if it was about to explode, shaky breath. you were sitting next to soobin, on your way to a joint photoshoot. you were nearly 100 percent sure that your staff could sense something was wrong, the lack of affection the two of you were having. not to mention the complete silence in the long car ride. the staff caught on as soon as they saw your bloodshot eyes, soobin’s hand not trying to find its way into yours, even when the two of you were exhausted, you always found away to still show each other love. oh something was definitely wrong with you two.

you weren’t sure if it was the tickle from the brush that was touching up against your cheek, or if it was genuinely the stinging in your heart that was making your eyes water. a tiny tear rolling down your cheek, and soobin saw it from across the room, his hands in the pockets of the suit he was wearing, the same suit he wore on the saudade love movie night. and unfortunately your were wearing the same blue dress that caused your itchy reaction that night.

“oh yn!” the mention of your name brought your attention back to the entire scene, suddenly feeling the wet tear on your cheek as more threatened to spill. your makeup artist rushing to grab a fan, blowing the air into your face, catching you a bit off guard. the tear dissipated, your artist rushing to fix any mistakes that were made. “are you okay? you’ve been out of it this entire time..” you just nodded in response, a tiny reaffirming smile appearing on your lips before leaving nearly immediately. “it’s not the dress, is it? i told the stylists and the company to not force you into it again, but you know how they get..”

“n-no, the dress is okay for now. i think it’s just good to be quick about this shoot..” and just by the sound of your voice anybody could tell that you wanted to cry. your red eyes had also been a bit of a sign that you had been crying, but nobody really wanted to comment on it, afterall the editors would find a way to make you look fine.

“you’re all set !” you whispered a quick thank you, walking over to the white screen, no color anywhere in the room. soobin quickly joined your side, pretending to help you with your dress, spreading it out beautifully.

“can you maybe not?” you whispered, trying your best to keep up a good look. pretending to smile with pure joy at soobin.

“do you have a better idea? we’re dating and as much as i hate to be doing this stuff, i’d like to keep it professional..” soobin kept a clear face, trying his best not to show any emotions. he was upset, the way his narrative was working, the fact that you had the nerve to be the one who seemed so upset.

by the end of the shoot, you were nearly so sure that you were going to have a breakdown any second. furrowed eyebrows as you walked into a closet, finding only yourself and your clothes in there. although you found yourself suddenly pressing your ear against the locked door, hearing your name mentioned.

“was it just me? or did it look like soobin and yn were so.. i don’t know.. but something definitely happened. soobin was like upset the entire time and yn looked like she was about to cry every other second..”

“you don’t think they broke up? do you?” another voice chimed in.

“i don’t know, but as actors, theyre not that good at acting…”

“girl, if you broke up with your lover would you be okay? if you would be then that’s kinda crazy, but either way, somethings you can’t just pretend you’re okay.”

“all i’m saying is that, they’re in a fake relationship either way so it shouldn’t be that bad..”

“fake relationship? you believed that?”

“of course i do, love is one of those things that you can’t act about, and they don’t do a good job ‘loving’ each other.”

“please, honestly i just think you’re jealous.” you finished listening in on the conversation, changing into your clothes, deciding to fully dedicate your job and put your emotions aside. you stepped out from the changing room, accidentally scaring the staff crew that were walking down the hallway. suddenly keeping they seemed uptight, although you just shared a genuine smile with them.

“thank you so much for your hard work..” you gave them a small yet sweet bow, moving past them and attempting to find soobin, noticing him with your manager. you practically skipped your way towards him, your hand immediately finding his, soobin swore that he must’ve missed out on a whole episode of some kind of drama.. why had you been acting like you were actually happy with him..? like you were still dating, i mean you were, just not in the sense that the two of you used to be. your hand in his, his hand held in both of your hands. your manager, kept talking to soobin before deciding to give the two of you some space.

“can you let go, your hands are clammy..” soobin spoke up, before being met with pure rejection.

“no, i cant.. everybody is catching on..” you replied in a dull tone..

©️kumabeom

taglist (send asks !) : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @wonjws @yourenzoo @missychief1404 @304blur @coconutjjun @theycallmelolla @natokkiz @everythingvirgoes @pinkhor1zon @nshitae @damn-u-min-yoongi @jiweok @wonderstrucktae @thing89 @pagetammgyu @virgo-and-libra @blossommi @cheekycountesschoi @taysfairies @20-cms @soobiluvr1205 @bloomngspring @thyunzzn @heeseungspookie

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Live Arcane Reaction; Act 3:

Ep 7: Thank god the killmonger cut only exist in the hell dimension- don’t let them give you a fuck ass cut Ekko.

Powder my princess- IS THAT VANDER’S FINE ASS

OH MY GOD MILO CLAGGOR!!!

Jayce my princess I never doubted you. I knew the Hexcore fucked you up girl🫶🏾

Goddammit every frame in this show is a painting

VI MY POOKIE BEAR WHY

There is something so heartbreaking about the Bridge of Progress being used as an actual progression between the two cities. An olive branch. What could have been.

Jayce istg they do not want you to be happy-

BRO HE JUST WANTED TO PLAY WITH SOME MAGIC-

“Viktor is the mage” theory you might just have merit

Arcane artists I will see you in HELL for that Viktor/Jayce parallel of them literally building themselves up, morphing their damaged bodies to move forward.

Ekko and Jinx girls enjoy your SCRAPS-

WHAT WE COULD OF BEEN GODDAMMIT! FUCK!!!!!

Actual fucking tears in my eyes- FUCK THEY COULD HAVE BEEN SO CUTE- also the hard cut to Jayce and the Hexcore glitching like TV glitches as the universe breaks down.

MY BOY JUST WANYES TO PLAY IN SOME MAGIC!

Thank god he didn’t die in that universe too I would have crashed out Powder deserves to be- SHE KEPT THE CRYSTAL!?

Ep 8: oh thank god my Pookies is alive- IS ANYTHING SACRED- why the fit kinda eat tho….

I need everyone to understand I was SO happy about Mel being alive that I barely understood anything those mages said. I was just happy my babygirl is alive. GOD THAT MAKES THE FLOWER IMAGERY IN THE OPENING MUCH BETTER.

I just remembered Isha is dead... FUCK HIEMERDINGER DIED TOO 😭

Nooo Vander- NO VIKTOR- nice to know I am not immune to indoctrination.

Huck cannot catch a break omfg

LORIS MY BELOVED 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Hi traitor- omg Cait cute hairstyle

The divorce is not going well for these two.

Jayce and Mel have not seen each other for god knows how long- DONT FUCKING YELL AT HER JUST CAUSE YOUR SITUATIONSHIP WENT SOUTH!

The throuple is back together and it’s TOXICCCC

I would just like to point out that when Viktor said this all started with Jayce, the parallels between Jayce and Ekko is still going. Like I could on for pages about these two at this point.

Fuck they made this Yaoi TOXIC-

FUCK THEY MADE THIS MAGIC TOXIC- is it wrong still stand by Viktor. Like I know he’s wrong but he’s so fine. Jayce and Viktor’s parallels, Jayce and Ekko- lord.

FUCKING FINALLY THE SISTERS ARE- well shit

Jayce and Mel, I never doubted this ship. I never doubted this relationship. I thought they were good for each, the rest of the world is just full of haters.

Sevika thank god they dumb bitches get on my nerves, I need someone with a functioning brain cell to lead us to salvation.

I’m gonna be on my fucking deathbed talking about the Zaunites joining Piltover to fight a battle they done have to, to save their homes- to make Progress.

Vi, it’s okay- OH MY GOD

Istg this show cannot- I’m- Ambessa my love I’m still reeling from the gays, give me a moment. VANDER MY LOVE NOOO! SINGED I'LL SEE YOU IN HELL!

Oh fuck- we’re in it now

Ep 9:

EKKO THANK GOD- most stressful 3 mins of my life.

Honestly I don’t trust these dumb bitches at all. Jayce and Vi are like 2 for 2 on losing fights. Ekko save us Ekko. I had hope on Sevika but her leaving is so real. She has been let down by these people so many times- GERT NOOOOO

LORIS NOOOOOO

Thank god fish guy made it

Ambessa rises from the ashes like a demon- I KNEW IT I KNEW THAT BITCH WAS A TRAITOR!

GOD IS A WOMAN AND HER NAME IS MEL MEDARDA!!!

YEA JINX! SEVIKA IM SORRY I DOUBTED YOU QUEEN NEVER AGAIN I SWEAR!

There is something so special to me about piano boy being the one to make the shot. Like the smallest thing can make a difference, anyone can rise to the occasion.

Of course Ambessa is one step ahead

I have issues, I still think Viktor is so hot rn.

I know my girls are getting their asses beat rn but let’s appreciate they let the girls get down and dirty in a fight. No pretty fighting- my bitches scrap-

Bow your heads. We lost THE bad bitch today.

Omfg there’s still like 20 mins left

I should have known this plan was gonna go to shit the minute Jayce and Vi sat next to each other.

Praying for the salvation for my girl, Sevika I promised not to- FUCK

Ekko please save these idiots- SAVE US EKKO.

Jayce understanding that he was the soldier in the ash like yeah dummy- DID IT CLICK YET- Please let Viktor be the mage, I will not let this theory die.

Fuck I wanna side against Viktor but he looks gorgeous in the Arcane.

Oop Jayvik nation rise.

EKKO THANK GOD THATS MY BOY SAVIOR

HE WAS THE MAGE THE WHOLE TIME-

I’m actually in tears this isn’t a bit, like I’m actually crying

Viktor I never doubted you, I never forsaken you, I never hated you, I never turned against you, I never thought less of you. He could have actually succeeded and I would have stood by him.

Oh damn Jayvik nation rise for real, I was just joking the first time-

JINX I NEVER DOUBT- FUCK

This show is so beautiful, every scene a painting. Mel in all noxian gear while still wearing her purple eyeshadow, a mix of her roots but also the promise to move forwards and look ahead.

Yall im so fucking stressed and there’s only 3 minutes left.

No one talk to me for the next few days- I’m going through some shit okay-

[dyns33]

The Best Friend part 2

Yes I made a lil 3 parts series for Homelander and his bestie.

If Y/N had to give John one good point, it was that he had been honest.

He could have said nothing, and she probably would have never known.

But at the same time, he wasn't completely stupid, and it wasn't a good idea to keep secrets like that.

Because he himself didn't like being lied to, promising that it would never happen between them, but also that he was giving Firecracker power over him, who could have threatened to tell her everything if he didn't do what she wanted.

Maybe she was blinded by admiration at the moment, claiming that she was at his beck and call and that she wouldn't ask for anything in return, but John knew people. He couldn't trust her.

"I'm not attracted to her at all, I told her that."

"… That reassures and consoles me enormously, John."

"Look, I understand that you're angry. But it was just once, just once ! A moment of weakness. I was exhausted, a lot of things had happened, you weren't there…"

"So it's my fault ?"

"No." He growled before sighing, trying to keep his cool. "I didn't say that. She was very persuasive. How does she know that I… Anyway, it was a mistake. I can fire her, she's no use to me. That idiot is loyal, I can ask her anything I want, but one word from you and she's gone. I can even kill her if you ask."

A lot of people wouldn't know how to react in this situation.

Normally it wasn't a good idea to upset the Homelander. You had to agree with him, not cry, not yell, not talk back. It was already an accomplishment that he admitted he had made a mistake.

Maybe he hadn't apologized, but Y/N was probably smart enough to know that he was sorry and that she should forgive him.

Anyone else would have eventually said sorry, taking the blame on them and making excuses for his cheating.

But besides the fact that she had been his only friend during his childhood, John loved Y/N because she wasn't afraid of him. And that meant she wasn't going to give in when he had hurt her.

"Your solution to a problem always has to be murder. Really, John, we're not eight years old anymore."

"Exactly, that's why we're talking like two adults."

"I'm waiting."

"What ?"

"For you to act like an adult."

Then John chuckled. He put on his eternal air of a guilty child who pretended not to understand what he had done wrong, disturbed that someone dared to corner him in this way, him, the great Homelander.

But seeing that Y/N was staring at him without saying anything, waiting, he quickly regained his seriousness, hiding his embarrassment behind a mask of annoyance.

"I just told you that I wouldn't do it again. She doesn't attract me at all, she's pathetic. I only love you. I've only ever loved you, since forever. The others were nothing, distractions, puppets. You're the only one who really knew me, who made me happy."

"I'm waiting."

"You don't want me to cut her in two, and I can't go back in time by flying around the Earth in the opposite direction of rotation contrary to what some idiots think, I don't see what I can do."

"Apologize."

"… Sorry." he mumbled, looking down, showing a pout.

"No. Better than that, John. Give me your most sincere apologies."

At this point, someone else would already be dead, or at least facing a furious and threatening supe, ready to use his lasers to silence her.

But Y/N was really not just anyone. Realizing that she would not change her mind, John mumbled, hands on his hips, before displaying his fake stage smile.

"I'm so sorry."

"I'm still waiting."

"… I should never have done that, it was pathetic of me. I love you more than anything and I shouldn't take it for granted, you deserve to be treated with respect. Forgive me."

"Hmm. Almost but not yet." she decided, holding back a smile.

She was still angry, but Y/N was ready to forgive him. After all these years, she knew how John was. She knew he would never have said the word "sorry" if he didn't mean it, and he wouldn't have confessed anything if he didn't really care about her.

But the moment was tasty and she wanted to make the most of it, so that he would learn his lesson well.

"What ? You want me to get on my knees ?"

"That would be a good start."

"… Fine."

Y/N had said that as a joke. In truth, she didn't really know what she was waiting for, only that she wanted it to last a little longer. It was impossible to tell whether or not she liked seeing John at her feet, staring at her with fear.

"I'm sorry. Don't leave me."

"Oh, John…"

"I know I can be difficult. You're always good and patient with me, even though I don't deserve it at all. I love you. If you left me, I would die, truly. The day they took you from me, I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn't breathe. I would destroy everything if you disappeared again."

It wasn't exactly a reassuring statement. It could even have been taken as blackmail or a threat. But John would never hurt Y/N, she knew that.

He would kill everyone else, leaving only them, but he would tear off an arm rather than hurt her.

Tenderly, she stroked his hair, then his cheek, before leaning in to kiss him.

"I forgive you, John."

"Hmm."

"I love you too, I'm not going to leave you."

"Thanks."

"Get up now."

"Hmm. I don't know, I like the view." he said with a small smile. She followed his gaze, still leaning over, understanding that this way he had a full view of her chest and crotch.

The small pat he took on your head made him snicker, as did Y/N's falsely outraged look.

"I know another way to make it up to you."

"It wouldn't really be a punishment."

"I'll just be a little sad if I can't find any milk. But we could also do something to change that."

"Why are you never serious ?" she sighed, rolling her eyes.

The apology ended like that, because she received a call that caught her full attention. Y/N didn't look at John either, who never left her, dangerously serious, and fixed on her stomach.