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rootedinrevisions · 2 days ago

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Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met.

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you.

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go.

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm.

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life.

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure.

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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genstyle · 2 days ago

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I'm scared of people. Just in general. A soft memory, huh? It was pretty recent but I wanna write it out! I had to leave my house multiple times this month because of pest control issues. I had to do a lot of laundry at a public laundromat. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I'm not comfortable out in public, still. But it was nice. I met a couple of old folks. I did my laundry among other people just trying to pay attention to their own responsibilities. Someone tried to steal my phone when my ADHD got the better of me and I accidentally left it unattended for a couple of minutes. I did get it back thanks to my Dad being there to phone it. I met a mother who seemed more scared of me than any one else in the laundromat. I'm used to it. I'm a tall, masculine looking, creepily quiet, dark skinned indigenous person, after all. She relaxed once I finished using the big washing machine and offered it to her. We joked about the frilly pink sock someone left behind underneath one of the tables. I met another lady who complained about how long the dryers took to get her towels properly dried. She taught me how the extension features of the dryers work! If you put in a couple of quarters before opening the door, then it's cheaper to add a few more minutes that way than starting the cycle again. I complimented the cashier about how fast she's learned to count change. She smiled and laughed at "the useless skill". An asian man came back to the laundromat two hours after leaving because he realized he took the wrong charger after he was done with his laundry. The lady who's charger he took was still there and they exchanged wires and had a good laugh. A taxi driver who was using the car wash next door wandered in at one point and gave every customer there his business card. He bragged about how familiar he was with the local native american community. I didn't want to believe it until I noticed that his business card listed a commonly used airline that I know the Northern Reserves tend to use. If he was confident enough about servicing that place then he wasn't kidding about being familiar with natives. My dad really tried to hold a conversation with that guy. He was interested in the little vocal ticks the man picked up. My dad knows a lot of Native languages and wanted to bother him about dialect. Luckily the man got out of the conversation by needing to go back to his car. A strange old lady tried to ask for my phone number. I spoke with her casually while she was waiting for a ride to pick her up. She kissed my neck when we said farewell. I don't know her name or anything. I overheard a bunch of middle school students who wandered in to buy snacks during their lunch hour talk about what the results of the elections could mean for them going forward. We're in the middle of Canada and even they know the future is concerning. I don't look forward to doing my laundry in public again. We have another pest control appointment in 4 weeks. It's not as scary. It's a weirdly human experience. Just doing laundry. Reminds me a lot of the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. Next time it's just the physical aspect of dragging tons of clothing around that I'll dislike. The people make it not as scary.

Tell me a soft memory

#Written out to remember #fun times with laundry #probably the most I've written in tumblr #a soft memory

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starry-bi-sky · 3 days ago

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Okay so this is almost a direct copy-paste of my earlier reblog but only the Xin Yuan parts, because its long enough to be its own post and i want to share it! It deserves it's own post <3 typical starry stuff to write a 2k word long reblog, unfortunately.

I say almost because I went through to proof read and ended up adding more stuff.

I've been cooking on this idea for the last two days since I saw the Xin Mo!Shen Yuan post but??? I can't find anything on Xin Mo's backstory or how it came to be -- which means that's free fucking plot right there baby. That's a sandbox and im making LIFE SIZED CASTLES. I'm so excited.

The idea of Shen Yuan transmigrating centuries before the events of PIDW as Xin Mo -- but when he wakes up, he's not the sword. He wakes up in the body of a young boy named Xin Yuan. Now it makes sense for this boy to be a demon, but the drama, the intrigue, the spice of Xin Yuan being a human child.

SY wakes up as a boy below the age of ten, and the System tells him where he is, and SY is excited to meet his favorite protagonist -- only to gradually realize that he's like, a thousand years or so before the events of the novel. The rant he gives the system is legendary.

Bc what's the point of getting dropped into PIDW if he's never going to meet his favorite character??? This is a scam! BUT he settles into his new life, he's like, some orphan street rat or some other tragic airplane-esq backstory.

The system gives Shen Yuan his first mandatory quest: become a righteous cultivator. Which was like, kinda his plan/hopes anyways, except! There's like?? No official cultivator sects anywhere? The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hasn't even been established yet, and there are pockets of cultivators running around, maybe some groups or schools popping up and then sinking back down, but nothing's really taken root!

If he asks someone how to become a cultivator, there's no straight answer. No "oh you can go to X to do that". He's pissed! How can he become a cultivator if there aren't any schools around to teach him? Deus ex machina, that's how.

Out of sheer luck, SY manages to help save a rogue cultivator, and promptly gets adopted by said rogue cultivator, who gives SY the name 'Xin Yuan'. He is ecstatic. And you know what? It's actually pretty fun!

He's getting to travel the world of PIDW in its early stages, and gets to see the building blocks for the eventual main story. He's discovering all this local flora and fauna that are foreign to his old world and unmentioned in the book, and he's learning cultivation! Granted, its unsafe, newly(ish) discovered cultivation, but it counts!

Wistfully, he thinks about perhaps he'll do something grand and get his name carved into legend. Something that would eventually help the protagonist later down the line in his quest for revenge.

The system remains silent to his thoughts.

But Xin Yuan doesn't take much stock in that daydream anyways. It's nothing more than fantasy to him; wish-fulfillment. He does discover however, that he is positively brimming with spiritual energy. Overwhelmingly so.

It's both a blessing and a curse, as it puts a strain on his meridians if he's not careful, and leaves him prone to qi deviations for the exact same reasons. He already has a heart demon or two from a few traumatic experiences in the past.

(bc hey! angst a day keeps the writer sadism at bay, and all that)

I'll say he's about... eight when he gets picked up by the rogue cultivator, who I'm calling Lin Kai bc he deserves a name. They travel around PIDW up until Xin Yuan is twelve, where he goes through a traumatic experience that results in a heart demon.

It's after that that Lin Kai decides to put a stop to his wandering, and find a place to settle down to raise Xin Yuan in. Coincidentally! They settle down in a nice mountain region that's thriving with spiritual energy. The mountains at the time were called something different, but they will be eventually known as the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect

Coincidentally, the mountain Lin Kai and Xin Yuan end up on is Qing Jing Peak. XY does not realize that the mountain he's on is Qing Jing. The System does not tell him. But he likes it there, more than he was expecting. And as much as he's traveled around, he really does enjoy being in one place.

He has a tendency to go down the mountain and help the village setting up down there, and when he's a teenager he starts venturing out more and more.

Xin Yuan forgets sometimes that he's in a novel, especially after settling down on Qing Jing peak. The system becomes remarkably quiet since there's no quests for him to do and not a ton of opportunities to get B-Points. He cultivates with Lin Kai, helps tend to the garden they're growing, goes down to the village to play with the other kids.

There's one boy he's best friends with, a boy whose not all that good with words, named Liu Zhihao. He's got potential for cultivation though, so Xin Yuan drags him up the mountain when he can so that Liu Zhihao can sit in on lessons with Lin Kai. He drags him all over the forest at the foot of the mountain to go look at bugs and animals.

(One time, when they're fourteen and Liu Zhihao has been learning cultivation for a few years now, Xin Yuan drags him out of bed late one night to go look at the stars. Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao about ascension -- something that still feels like a far off dream to many in this time -- that night, while they're sitting on the wet grass.)

("We should ascend together." Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao, jade eyes gleaming. Never let it be said that Xin Yuan doesn't love deeply, no matter what kind of love it is. He was always so lonely as Shen Yuan, Liu Zhihao is his best friend. "We'll become immortals, and then we won't ascend until the other is able to.")

(Liu Zhihao stares at him silently, his face unreadable. Then, quietly, he asks; "Promise?")

("Promise.")

When he starts adventuring outwards, further away from the mountain and the village, Liu Zhihao sticks to him like rice. Not that Xin Yuan's complaining, that's his best friend after all, and Liu Zhihao has become a formidable cultivator. He deserves to show off his skills.

He starts making something of a name for himself by the time he's, like, 18 -- although that name is in its baby steps, along with Liu Zhihao. They're slowly growing renown.

Perhaps XY uses his knowledge of PIDW and cultivation in general to help make advancements in the cultivation field. Although the system prevents him from sharing too much, it doesn't mean he can't practice it himself. Perhaps he's one of the first cultivators to develop a golden core. One of the first known immortal cultivators. One of the first to have a spirit sword.

(Although I don't know the logistics of any of this since my knowledge on xanxia/cultivation stuff in general is all still pretty new and google wasn't all that helpful lol.)

Either way, its my excuse to eventually make Xin Yuan come across as ethereal to other people. Peerless beauty SY for the win. Hs wifebeam is too strong, Xin Yuan has a line of suitors following after him and he's completely unaware of it. The rest of history is not.

Demon realm stuff has been stirring up since Xin Yuan was a kid, but at the time it was rare and in the beginning stages. Its been steadily ramping up and the system is sending him on more and more treacherous quests -- some of them mandatory, some optional. SY doesn't often take the optional ones unless it comes with a sufficient B-point reward.

for all intents and purposes though, he's a wandering rogue cultivator with Liu Zhihao, going from place to place to either help a town or village, or to discover more creatures or artifacts (although there aren't that many). Just all around living his life. He participates in a few major quest lines that are sure to get him mentioned in legend, even if it's a background character way.

(Unbeknownst to him, rather than being a side character in these legends, he's named directly. You can't become one of the first immortal cultivators and NOT get name dropped for clout.)

He has a spirit sword named Shā Mó, (杀 shā - to kill/weaken/counteract/reduce) (魔 mó - evil spirit, demon, possession). He routinely goes back to QJP to see Lin Kai, or to rest when traveling has worn down on him and he wants nothing more than to sleep somewhere he knows he'll be safe in. It becomes more frequent as Xin Yuan becomes more famous. Liu Zhihao often comes with him.

it all comes to a head though when the rifts between the demonic realm and the human realm become too great, and the balance between both realms becomes unstable. A demonic emperor's influence, wanting to merge the two realms so he could conquer both to satiate his own greed.

Typical evil king stuff. This comes to a climatic head in a great battle between every cultivator available and the demon emperor's army. Xin Yuan was one of the many who helped lead the charge.

In the end, it was Xin Yuan who ends up defeating the demonic emperor, but the rift that the emperor used to cross between worlds is destabilizing as well. Except instead of trying to close, it's getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow the heavens and earth and demonic realm whole.

You know how Yue Qingyuan's soul is bonded to his sword due to a qi deviation? Let's take it a step further >:)

Xin Yuan uses himself and Shā Mó to close the rift. However, it takes all of his spiritual energy to do so, as well as him filtering the demonic qi into his body to redirect it back to the demon realm.

In the end, Xin Yuan and his beloved sword Shā Mó fuse. Xin Yuan's soul becomes trapped in the sword. His physical body is unable to handle the immense amount of power it takes to close the rift, and is destroyed. He is immortalized in legend by his grieving cultivators.

(Liu Zhihao ends up ascending alone. He ascends with the hope that one day he'll see Xin Yuan again, even if it's in the face of someone else. Lin Kai does not ascend, too weighed down by the grief of losing his son.)

Xin Yuan, now Xin Mo, falls into a stasis. He's very confused and disorientated when he regains 'consciousness'. The system has been silent for most of his life, only popping up to give him mandatory quests, hints, points, or to answer any questions.

But once he wakes up, it cheerfully pops up again, congratulating him on completing the origin story of Xin Mo. SY freaks the fuck out. he'd shake the system screen if he could, but he doesn't have arms. or legs. or eyes for that matter.

He can sense his surroundings, but its all like imprints to him. He can sense the energies, but he can't see anything. It's all very disorientating and horrifying after years of being human. Like a sensory deprivation chamber.

The closing of the rift and the cycling demonic qi tainted both Sha Mo and Xin Yuan irreparably, and it did some kind of damage that resulted in SY needing to feed in order to use the spiritual powers. Kinda like how Xuan Su uses YQY's life force for it's spiritual energy, but instead of feeding on his own lifeforce, Xin Mo feeds on others.

The rest is history. Xin Mo is originally tied to the story of Xin Yuan -- believed to be all that remained of the man after he sacrificed himself to keep the realms separate. It's believed that the force of the realms closing permanently infused Sha Mo with demonic energy, turning it into Xin Mo.

But, like many stories do when faced against the tide of time, things get lost; chipped off; changed. Xin Mo is steadily separated from Xin Yuan, especially once it becomes clear how parasitic the sword really is, until they are all but separate entities themselves and the origin of Xin Mo's creation all but forgotten.

The years blur together when Xin Mo is not being wielded, and at first Xin Yuan was agonized by the fact that he stole the lives of all his wielders. He knows it's only a novel, but his decades spent in this life have softened him, and he's grown attached to the world around him.

But time erodes the mind like water erodes stone, and he becomes numb to it, then eventually anticipating of it. He forces himself to remember what he knows of PIDW's plot, and kinda fixates back on his old obsession on Luo Binghe. But while PIDW stays in his mind, his memories as Xin Yuan fall to the wayside.

Not forgotten, per se, but... tucked away. The system prevents him from forgetting fully.

Xin Mo isn't fully a demonic sword either i think, but instead harbors an ugly cocktail of both spiritual and demonic qi. Special circumstances and all that. Everyone just assumes he's a fully demonic sword because that's usually at the forefront, his spiritual qi weakened from the initial fusion and from years of not being fed spiritual qi. It's part of the reason his wielders always end up destroyed by him, other than the whole, yk, 'overwhelming qi' thing.

Nobody would recognize Xin Mo's human form as Xin Yuan other than some truly ancient demons. Of which Meng Mo might. But even that's iffy because there's a lack of surviving paintings of Xin Yuan, but also because of XM's demonic appearance and supposed lack of connection to XY.

Xin Mo has never spoken to his wielders before, not in the same way he does Luo Binghe. He tells Luo Binghe this, and he also tells Luo Binghe down the line that he is both spiritual and demonic -- something he also never told his wielders because there was no point to it.

okay okay i've got to end it here because its already gotten ridiculously long -- of which im both apologetic and unapologetic for -- but i DO think the Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meeting (and reveal) would be fucking hilarious. Especially if SY has learned how to pop between sword form and human form by then -- although i guess it doesnt matter either way because SQH's reaction is still the same.

And that reaction is internally screaming and going "hey what the FUCK?? WHY DOES XIN MO HAVE A HUMAN FORM??? WHAT IS THIS??? SYSTEM??? EXPLAIN???"

meanwhile from his place on the sword hilt xin mo is squinting at Shang Qinghua in bewilderment and going "aren't you supposed to be dead" but doesn't pay too much mind to it because its not like its going to change anything.

...up until he catches shang qinghua going "WTF" silently from his little corner while all eyes are off him. One moment SQH is standing beside his king, and the next he's been tackled to the ground by one wild-eyed, human-shaped Xin Mo.

everyone, including SQH, thinks Xin Mo is going to kill him. It is a surprise to everyone when he does not, and instead dissolves into deranged, uncontrollable laughter after spitting out some phrase in some ancient tongue and watching SQH's eyes grow wide in recognition.

#svsss au #svsss #scum villain au #scum villain #scum villain self saving system #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #liu zhihao is indeed based off liu qingge. i am a multishipper at heart and liushen is a delicious ship. XY and LZ i think were very devote #to each other regardless of if it was romantic or platonic. they're besties! and im a sucker for devotion in all aspects. its neat :)#XM eventually tells LBH about how he used to be human once and he tells him about his Xiao Zhi. and that he hopes Xiao Zhi was able to reac #ascension in his absence. LBH silently seethes with jealousy and abandonment issues a mile wide. he asks XM if he misses him. XM gets this #unreadable distant look on his face that makes him look far more mortal than is comfortable. then he mutters 'yes.' LBH hates it #Cang Qiong sect gets miraculously spared by Luo Binghe on account of 'my demonic sword grew up here and he'd be upset if i ruined it'#does LZH look like LQG? ...i want to say yes bc itd be crime to derive SY of LQG's beauty even if he never knows what LQG looks like #imagine XM as human coming to clash with YQY. he takes one look at YQY. then at Xuan Su. before going 'we're alike. you and i.'#rip SQH. executed for the crime of *checks scroll* making XM laugh before Binghe could. making XM laugh at all actually #XM is usually very reserved and restrained but for the first time in a thousand years he's met someone just like him. the emotional rush #is intense. SQH asks him later how long he's been Xin Mo. expecting like. at LEAST a few years now or after him but then XM blinks at him #and then mutters something about how he's lost track of time. oh hey btw what year it is??? he forgot to ask. SQH tells him and Xin Mo says #'oh! about a thousand years now' 'WHAT' and XM tells him about being Xin Yuan which SQH was not expecting. whether thats because #he genuinely wasnt expecting it or it was part of his outline or an idea he messed around with and didnt expect to make it into the world #SQH tells him about the legend of Xin Yuan. XM is stunned. he asks about Liu Zhihao. LZH made it into legend too. which XM is very #pleased by. 'good. he deserves it for all the hard work he put in.'

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koolades-world · 20 hours ago

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have three really great ideas but this one was brainrotting me more so you get this one first. may or may not be inspired by myself and the amount of birthmarks i have personally (i do actually have all the birthmarks listed!) if you guys want a part two for solomon's birthmarks and mc doting on him, let me know. i could make that happen!

i can't explain it but i kept thinking of that one solomon and his wives post written by my beloved mutal alba while writing this. not sure why, but i'm giving credit where it is due. please go check her out!!!

this can read a little suggestive so read with caution! however, i think it's very very cute!! <3

birthmarks

"Hey, Mc." Solomon looked up from the book he was reading. You were seated not too far from him, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by papers you were organizing.

"What's up?" You didn't look up from what you were doing.

"Have you ever heard of any old wives tales behind birthmarks?" He asked.

"Well, that was out of the blue." When you paused, he continued to look at you expectantly. "Yes, I've heard a couple. The first one I thought of were they were how you died in a past life." You let out a snort of laughter at the expression that crossed the sorcerer's face.

"That's not the one I was thinking of." He shook his head.

"Then, you must've been thinking of the one where they're where you've been kissed in a past life. If the death one was the case, I would've had some brutal deaths." You recalled the simple, yet romantic myth where every birthmark was a kiss left by a lover of your past. You much preferred that outlook, even if it wasn't real.

"That's the one. Now, I'm curious..." He trialed off, giving you his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"You could've just asked in a normal way. You're my partner. Asmo must be rubbing off on you." You got up, and joined him on the sofa.

"No, Asmo would've just asked you to get naked." The two of you giggled together at the idea. In his defense, he was right.

"Do you have any birthmarks?" You wondered how he'd thought to ask something like that in the first place.

"Maybe you'll get to see later, if you're lucky." Solomon winked at you.

"Solomon!" You smacked his arm, to which he pulled you into a hug back.

"Maybe you can help me find each and every one..." He voiced died as the words left his mouth. He ran a thumb over the birthmark on your cheek, his touch gentle. You could tell he'd already moved on from that idea despite how enthralled he'd seemed with it a second ago. "This a cute spot to have one."

You had many birthmarks, but the one on your cheek was the one most easily visible. "Thanks. I must've gotten lots of cheek kisses." You remarked. "Is this the one that got you thinking?" You put a hand over his, which was still on your face.

"You read my mind." You studied his face of oddly deep concentration. While he was looking at you, he didn't even realize he wasn't meeting your gaze. Instead, he seemed to be memorizing your features.

"Compared to the others, this one is small." This comment seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

"Where are the rest?" His hand stayed on your cheek, but seemed ready to move to the next area at any point.

"I've got a fair amount on my arms and hands. There's one on the base knuckle of my right index finger, and another just underneath the first knuckle of my left ring finger." He took both of your hands in his, moving to study them next.

"You were well loved." He threaded your fingers together. "They were sweet to you, and married you." You began to grow shy once you realized the implications of the birthmark on your ring finger, and a little upset with yourself for not realizing that sooner.

"I'd never thought of that." You cleared your throat, and pushed past the mild embarrassment. "I also have one on my left forearm, and one on both of the backs of my shoulders." He let go of your right hand to run his fingers up your arm and to your back, but held steadfast onto your left hand. He remained silent, his lips a thin line.

"I have one over my heart, and one in the center of my chest." You pressed a finger over the center of your chest where you knew the mark was. Solomon's frigid hands settled over your heart. You hoped he couldn't feel how it was racing under his touch.

"Is that all of them?" He finally met your eyes. They were filled with a tenderness you could only place as fondness.

"No, I have a couple more." You took his free hand, and guided it down to where the remaining two were. You knew he'd do it anyways. "I've got one here." You placed his hand on your hip. After steeling your nerves, you guided his hand lower down to your inner thigh. "And one here."

"You were well loved." He repeated. You'd expected some sort of snide comment about the placement of the last one, but that didn't even seem to be on his mind. You stared at him, trying to figure out what thoughts were running through his head. You left his hand on your leg, and stroked his face like he'd done for you moments ago.

"Solomon, are you jealous?" The corners of his lips twitched at your comment.

"What if I am?" He sighed. He held your left hand close to his body, and cuddled you close to him.

"Did you ever consider that maybe it was you?" You whispered.

"Me?" Solomon sounded surprised.

"I think it was you. If you don't believe that the way I do, you can replace them. That way, I have double the kisses from you, and you know for sure your lips were the last to touch me." You could tell your words were getting through to him by the way his zeroed in on yours.

Instead of responding, he lifted your left hand to his lips, and kissed your left ring finger, and ghost of a smile on his face. "Then, I have work to do, don't I?"

#gn reader #drabble #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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mayrose713 · 3 days ago

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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 10

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Warning: Smut First time I've ever written smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks (I'm updating the warnings in the series masterlist so this is the only other warning for smut from here on out)

Also want to let everyone know that with holiday seasons coming up, work is getting busier and I'm gonna be working more days than my normal here soon so it's gonna be a bit harder to write. I promise to update as often as possible and I'm gonna start adding dates next to the upcoming chapters in the masterlist on when they should be posted so refer to that.

thank you everyone for reading, now enjoy

Chapter 10

“How was it?” Jisung asks after Y/n walks out of the office he was waiting for her in front of as she was talking with her therapist and psychiatrist and he can see the signs that she’s been crying which doesn’t surprise him.

“Weird.” She sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue. “They asked me a lot of mental health questions mostly, and they want to put me on anti anxiety meds for sure and maybe antidepressants.”

“It’s not too bad.” He takes her hand to lead her back to the lobby where Chan is waiting for them. “I was put on the same when I first started coming here. Still take the anxiety ones actually.”

“Really?” She looks at him surprised.

“Yeah.” He nods his head. “I was homeschooled as a kid so I didn’t socialize as much as I should have and it caused a lot of anxiety because of it. The only reason I know Chan and Changbin is because my dad worked for their dads originally. Really they were my only friends back then.”

“Good to know.” She nods, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I don’t actually know a lot about all of you guys, or how you all came to be.” She whispers, looking at the floor.

“Well feel free to ask questions whenever, we‘ll be happy to answer.” He squeezes her hand as they walk out into the lobby and Chan looks up at them.

“You okay?” Chan stands as the two walk up to him and he pulls her into his side.

“Yeah, it was just a lot.” She hands him the paper for her anti-anxiety prescription.

The alpha looks over it and sighs but understands and reads the note about possible antidepressants but they want to have more sessions with her to determine that.

“I’m gonna ask you like I had asked Ji when they wanted to prescribe him this too.” He moves her to look at him. “Do you want to be put on medication? Do you think it will actually help you?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never taken stuff like this before.” She stutters. “But I’m wary because of the injections.” She then looks over at Jisung. “Does it help you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles at her. “I feel like I’m able to get through the day easier with it. And don’t worry, it’s nothing like how the injection was.”

Y/n nods her head still thinking about it and Chan tilts her head to look up at him. “Hey, you can try them out for a bit and if you don’t like how they make you feel or don’t think they’re helping then we can slowly get you off of it.” He reassures her. “We did that with Jisung for his antidepressants.”

“Okay.” She whispers. “I’ll try it.”

Chan goes and gets the prescription sent in to be picked up at the pharmacy in Stayville and picks it up on their way home.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Baby girl.” Chan stops the omega as she walks past his room and motions for her to come in. “I’ve noticed you’ve been in your head since we got home, talk to me.” He shuts the door after she walks in.

She sighs as he leads her to sit on his bed. “I just realized today that I don’t actually know a lot about all of you.”

“That’s all?” He watches her closely as she nods her head. “Baby, all you have to do is ask us questions and we’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Can you tell me about your family and where you came from?” She asks shyly. “I remember Minho telling me that Hannah visits from Australia a lot. And Dr. Hajoon was calling you Chris.”

“Yeah.” He smiles and laughs a little as he sits next to her. “My English name is Christopher. I was born here but was mostly raised in Australia. My dad went back and forth from there and here to help Changbin’s dad run the company. His dad retired so he and I handle the Korean office while my dad still runs the one there.”

The omega nods as she listens. “Your brother is an omega. What about Hannah? And your parents?”

“Lucas is our only omega in my family pack too.” He smiled at her. “My dad is an alpha and so is Hannah. My mom is a beta.”

“Would we ever be able to go visit Australia?” She whispers.

“Of course.” He lifts her head to look at him. “As a pack we own a vacation house there so that Felix and I are able to visit our families often.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “How did I not realize that Felix is also Australian?”

“I don’t know, baby.” He laughs a bit. “Felix and I have known each other since we were kids. I taught him Korean and after I had moved and gotten settled here with Changbin, Jisung and Seungmin we moved him here.”

“Ji said you guys were the only friends he had since his dad worked for yours.” She looks over his facial features. “How did everyone else come into the pack?”

“Well, Seungmin and I went to high school together here. I was his senior.” He smiles as she listens closely. “He was a bit unsure of himself when he realized we were fated. I had to go up to him first and tell him about Changbin and Jisung, who I was living with and tell him about Felix back home.”

“Minho had run into Jisung at a caffe not far from the office. At the time Minho was a backup dancer for BTS but after meeting Ji and wanting to court him since he was his fated mate, he decided to stay in Seoul and started teaching dance. And Ji convinced him to meet the other four of us as he knew we were his fated mates too.”

“Min was a backup dancer for BTS?” Y/n gawks. “I don’t believe it.”

“Look up some of their live performances, you’ll see.” And she makes a mental note to do so later. “Hyunjin and Jeongin met each other in school and knew they were each other's fated mates. Hyunjin had started taking classes from Min and even though they both realized they were fated mates, Jinnie was too scared of Minho to talk to him about it and Min wasn’t about courting his student.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how cute the whole situation is. “So how did it finally happen?”

“Felix.” Chan smirks. “Changbin had dropped him off at the studio one day to bring Minho lunch and Hyunjin fell in love at first sight. After that Lix made Jinnie and Min talk and Hyunjin told them about Jeongin and they told him about the rest of us.”

“That’s all really cute.” The omega gushes. “Best story ever.”

“I don’t know.” He grins at her mischievously. “I think my favorite story is the one about how we met our omega.” He grabs her pulling her onto his lap so she’s straddling him causing her to blush.

“Channie.” She pouts as he holds her hips and Y/n can’t help but to glance down at his lips, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

Y/n starts to wonder if they’re gonna claim her soon or not, thinking back to what her brother had told her, about them possibly just using her.

“You’re thinking too much, baby girl.” The alpha grips her hips a bit tighter causing her to whine a little. “Just say it.”

“Please.” She looks back and forth from his eyes to his lips.

“You’ve gotta say it.” She continues to pout though and he lightly spanks her ass. “Come on baby, I don’t know what you’re wanting if you don’t speak up.”

“Please claim me, alpha.” She sounds disparate.

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling her down to kiss her lips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

The kiss is heated and passionate, he smirks at the small wines she’s making. He spanks her again causing her to gasp and the alpha takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips. She doesn’t try to fight back with her tongue, already submitting to him.

He pulls away from the kiss and starts trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, relishing in the little sounds she makes. He groans into her neck when she bucks her hips against him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Chan buries his nose into her scent gland before switching their positions so she’s on the bed and he’s hovering above. One arm next to her head to keep himself up and the other lightly trailing up her bare thigh to the bottom of her skirt.

“Are you sure about this, baby girl? Because once we start, I’m not stopping.” He looks into Y/n’s eyes, seeing how desperate and needy she already is as she nods her head. “Words baby, I need you to use your words.”

“Yes alpha, I’m sure.”

“Good girl.” He growls as he pushes her skirt up and cups her sex, feeling how damp her underwear is. “Fuck, my little omega, you’re already so wet.”

Y/n covers her face with her hands in embarrassment as he continues to rub her through her panties letting out little whines and moans.

“Don’t hide from me.” Chan grabs both of her wrists with one hand and moves them from her face and pins them above her head. “There she is, my beautiful girl.”

“Channie.” Y/n bucks her hips against his hand. “You’re teasing.”

“Am I?” He fake pouts at her before taking his hand away from her and she whines and squirms as he still holds her in place. “What’s wrong? I thought you didn’t want me to tease you? So I stopped.”

“Chan, please.” And with a smirk at her begging he lets go of her wrists, moving his hands to her blouse and takes it off and raises a brow at her bare chest. “No bra? Tsk, naughty girl.”

“Took it off when we got home.” Y/n pants. “It was uncomfortable.”

“Of course it was.” He coos, kissing her lips again and cups her boob, squeezing it a little before playing with her nipple.

She arches her back, moaning into his mouth as she starts pulling at his shirt trying to get it off. Chan sits back pulling the shirt over his head and she ogles him, eyes roaming over every muscle of his torso. She then notices the bulge in his jeans, sitting up she unbuttons them as he smiles while watching her, helping take his pants off leaving him in his boxers.

Chan grabs the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down along with her panties before pushing her to lay back down as he looks over her.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his fingers to play with her slit before pushing a finger in causing her to bite her lip. “You’re so tight, baby. If you can’t take my finger, how are you gonna take my cock?”

“I can take it.” The omega moans as he starts to finger her. “Please alpha, I can, I promise.”

“Let me prep you first.”

He pushes a second finger in and makes a come hither motion and she arches her back once again grabbing onto his arm as he speeds up his fingers.

“Channie, please.” Y/n whimpers as he pulls his fingers out of her pussy, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste her slick.

“Mmm, you tastes so good. Gonna have to eat you out sometime.” He wastes no time sliding his boxers off before leaning over her, lining up with her. “This might hurt a little, but I promise it will get better, just let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“Okay.” Y/m whispers and gasps when he starts to push in.

When Chan feels some resistance he gives a hard thrust, completely bottoming out inside her causing her to moan a little in pain and pleasure. He stays still, looking at her face to check she’s okay and wipes away a tear from her eye.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” The omega whimpers before grinding against him. “Please move.”

Chan pulls out a bit before thrusting back in causing her to gasp again as he moves. Her expression soon changed from that of a bit of pain into pleasure.

“You’re so tight, baby girl.” He grunts as her hands go to his shoulders, claws coming out and start digging into his skins as she becomes a moaning mess under him.

“Please alpha, more.” And he speeds up his rhythm, rutting into her as he looks down to where they are connected seeing just how well she’s taking him.

When he sees some blood, which shockingly didn’t make her feel bad for hurting her but turned him on more knowing he’s taken her innocence and now belongs to the pack, to him. The sight of it causes him to harden his thrust and he grabs her hands from his shoulders placing them next to her head and holds them.

“Channie… ah.” Y/n squeezes his hands, head turning to the side as her eyes close, her walls clamping around him.

“Fuck.” He growls, loving the sound her slick makes around his cock. “You close baby?”

She nods in desperation and the knot at the base of his cock starts to swell. “Please, Chan, so close. Want your knot, please. Please claim me.”

Chan nuzzles into her neck for a moment smelling at her scent gland before biting down hard, teeth breaking the skin as he tastes her blood. She screams and cums around him, shaking in pleasure, her juices squirting everywhere making a mess of both of them and the bed. She thought the bite would hurt but instead she just feels a flood of his love and emotions for her.

He stays latched onto her neck riding out her pleasure before his knot inflates all the way and he releases his load into her. His knot keeps him locked in as his cum fills her up, some spilling out around his cock. It isn’t until she’s milked him dry that he lets go of her neck, licking his lips of her blood.

Y/n gazes up at him looking fucked out as he lets go of one of her hands to push some of her hair out of her face. “You did so good, baby girl.”

“Wanna bite you too.” The omega whimpers as she tries to move but his knot still hasn’t softened, keeping him in place.

Chan leans down, giving her access to his neck, the side with only three mate marks and she bites down just under the bottom one. He groans in pleasure and lets her stay there as long as she wants.

Once she lets go she looks up at him, eyes full of love. “My alpha.”

“That’s right baby.” He coos and kisses her lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

______________________________________________________________

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worstdisastermaster · 13 hours ago

Text

The books and the shows aren't the same thing and?? That's okay?? It doesn't have to be??

Some of the artists haven't even seen the show yet, and maybe won't 🤷‍♀️ I know I've seen like. The 1st episode and that's it lol. And I really enjoyed it and I think it's really fun

But people tend to separate book fandoms from in screen fandoms, to an extent, at least, bc there ARE differences, and THATS OKAY

They are very connected but they are not the same and I don't understand why people find that so hard to accept?? Like. Genuinely I'm so confused lol

Like if someone was being disrespectful, or trying to whitewash Leah or something horrid then like. Defend her!!! (Do try to be polite tho bc people can and often do change, and they know what they have been taught until they learn more- like for example, a few years ago I had no idea ab anything lgtbq and I peob would have gotten myself canceled bc I had. No idea. Ab any of it. And despite having best intentions in heart i totally would have offended someone, and that would have crushed me, because *i didnt know*. I never would have hurt anyone on purpose, i just didnt realize what COULD hurt others on that specific topic, much less why. But now I identify with it and am learning new things ab jt every day and etc. And that's a super touchy topic for a lot of people and for good reason too! Just try to be kind first, then if they are jerks u can be a jerk back lol. Just give peopke a chnace to get better- and then PLEASE dont hold the past against them ubless they very clearly havent changed mk please please please let people grow and change and get better dont crush them before they can) anti Leah trash is. That. Trash

But why would you attack book Annabeth, just for existing? She was my childhood, and I identified a lot with her as I grew up. And guess what! I also identified with Hazel, and I do so even more now! No matter what race she will be casted as, I'm still going to imagine BOOK Hazel the way I always did. Doesn't mean I won't adore her actress, or appreciate art of the girl playing her role! But would you call me racist for drawing her as African American if her actress, was, say, Asian American? Or drawing Leo as Latino instead of Somoan? Because to me, u less I am being a jerk about it, all I'm doing is drawing the book instead of the show. Idk I'm too sleep deprived to put my thoughts into coherent words lol

I love the posts, where it's like, book Annabeth and show Annabeth holding hands. Those posts are my favorite, both because they are freaking adorable, but also. Because it's equal

They are different aspects of the same person

And

Thats

Okay

You know???

I quite literally grew up reading pjo. I read it at least once every year since I learned HOW to read, *partially on pjo*, until late middle school. I was raised on book Annabeth.

Show Annabeth is new and exciting and adorable and I'm so happy for it and I am very excited for all the people being introduced to it!!!!!!!! However, when I'm writing book pjo, I'm not swaping it out for show scenes, bc they are, in fact, different. Which, again, NOT A BAD THING. And you know what? When people from the show fandom write their scenes, they aren't going to be thinking ab the book scenes, and THATS OKAY TOO!!! And I could care less how my readers saw my characters when the read the story. I write them the way I imagine them, but it's their job as the reader to say 'no, actually :P' and swap out the appearance for one they liked better.

I did that plenty often as a kid, and i donf regeret it.

Which, ironically enough, was why my book Percy was blond until ab 6th grads XD I mixed up Luke and Percy's hair description ONCE and just. Never questioned it, though all the rereads, or looking at the covers of the books 💀 you can imagine my shock when I joined the fandom and found out Percy had black hair, instead of sandy hair like, you know, S A N D, like poseidon!!! And now show Percy is blond XD

That just proves people can imagine things how they want and jts okay- especially bc maybe, in an au, they're rifht!!! (Au being show Percy to me)

Anyways I lost my train of thought and it's almost 12 here lolll I hope I didn't say anything ill be embarrassed by come tomorrow~

Good night world :3

Hi guys, wanted to discuss something going on for a while now. What the hell is wrong with pjotwt? Like...whats wrong with this people? Do you see what they say? What they are even trying to do?

First of all, let me start by speaking about the cast. They are all wonderful children, Leah especially! She is doing an amazing job as Annabeth. But book Annabeth still exists yk? She is and she is literally white. It is not racist. But denying about a character being white in the books, even spreading hate like this...is racist. There are people out there related with Annabeth for years. People love her, every version, maybe book more maybe even the movie. How can you disrespect her like this? And most importantly, how can they attack an artist like this, with an art being so beautiful. What they are trying to do is not protecting Leah, it is spreading hate. It is awful. Making this fandom toxic, so so much.

Them trying to erase book Annabeth because she is white, trying to cover her by painting on her, shaming artists, calling people that loves her racist...What do we do about this in pjo fandom? This fandom used to be so beautiful, but now. This people are not part of the fandom in my eyes, because real fans, would respect every version of the characters, love them with their anything, even flaws. They would protect this characters because they love them, so much. And not to mention this characters are the ones Rick wrote 20 years ago, they were with us for so long.

What do tumblr think about this I wonder? Since pjo fandom is pretty active here :3

#is it so hard to just like love them all? i consider all versions of the pjo characters canon. who says that there only has to be one canon?#ramblings with regina #thd show and the books are dif and thags how its SUPPOSED TK BE #ITS OKAY #and so are everones interpretations :÷#let them coexhsist as they shoulddddd #im not giving up my book annie for show and- OR VICE VERSA #THEY ARE TBE WAY THEY ARE MEANT TO BE #LOVS THEM FHEG ARE AMAZING AND BEAUFIFUL #and so are everyones interperetaions :3 #i enjoy seeing posts that play around with dif nationalities dor all of the characters #anyways cutting off b4 i ramble again gn~

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loulovingho · 2 hours ago

Note

ABC and the 911 team didn’t realize that there would be so many already traumatized millennial gay men relating to Tommy on levels they don’t understand (joys of most of the writing staff and Tim being heterosexual as far as we know). And now the traumatized millennial gay men who spent their lives hiding, are finally coming out en mass and voicing their disappointment in what happened and how badly it was handled. Whatever they had planned for BuckTommy will need to changed at this point.

And don’t even get us started on the Facebook wine moms. Those are the moms of the traumatized gay men. They are the mama bears watching their cubs in pain again after watching them getting bullied and hurt all throughout their childhood, their teenage years and their adult life. And they see their cubs happy with a silly little character on a silly little show and then it’s all ripped apart. And if there is anything Boomer parents know how to do, and they do it well, is to take to Facebook and complain.

ABC, 911, Tim Minear, and everyone involved didn’t expect this to happen. And I hope they learn from it.

The thing is it even goes beyond millennial gay men. Obviously it's important rep for them and I've seen so many posts (from way before the breakup) from gay men talking about how important Tommy is to them, I am not trying to undermine that in anyway. I'm just saying, as a bi woman, Tommy spoke to me too. I'm not kidding when I say I relate to him more than any other character on the show. Even Buck's bi arc, while I loved it, didn't relate to me.

I know we had to fill in the blanks a lot with Tommy, but he grew up with a Gerrard, was probably surrounded by Gerrards, and my experience was similar. Not exactly with my parents (they were/are very conservative, but not Gerrard-like), but with the school and church I grew up in, my city, extended family, etc. There was no access to the internet or a way for me to do research and work on my own biases. What I learned was what I knew and it's what I stuck with well into adulthood.

That's when I started working on myself, figuring out what I believed, how I thought about things. The things that had been drilled into my head from youth started to not add up and I was like "Oh, I gotta fix this!"

And then a few years after that, I realized I myself was bisexual. That is a terrifying realization for someone who grew up being told how terrible it was to be anything but straight. I know Tommy's loneliness, I know Tommy's fear, I AM that Tommy. And that's why it I wanted to see him win. I still want to see him win. I want to see him be allowed to be happy.

#911 #bucktommy #tommy kinard #I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to take from anyone elses experience #I really can only speak to my own

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t1oui · 2 days ago

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thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #hp #marauders era #harry potter #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus raising harry #regulus raising harry really #leo the cat #let's give her her own tag :)#she is immortal btw. leo never dies #anyway

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lightningarmour · 3 days ago

Text

Absolute comics first thoughts

For the first time since the end of DOOMSDAY CLOCK I've been persuaded into paying money for a DC comic, and two, no less.

I've been 100% checked out of the DC sphere for about 5 years, only occasionally seeing some news here or there about the latest crossover event or fave character or what have you, and I regard those with the passing interest one might have in seeing a hot air balloon. Nothing has drawn me back partly because I'm old now and don't have the time or inclination to try catching up on years of crossover event, status quo altering storylines and yadda yadda.

I had heard about the new ABSOLUTE line of titles, but from the initial teasers and previews, not the least of which was the character design for Absolute Batman with his giant stupid fat bat symbol, I just wrote it off as them doing yet more edgy elseworlds stories, and thought no more on it until maybe three weeks ago. I saw a little roundup of details about Absolute Superman from an interview with Jason Aaron and it caught my attention.

I've gone on at length in the past about how I think that any earnest attempt at writing Superman for modern audiences that keeps true to the "idea" of Superman without making a cynical edgelord version of the character would need to depict Superman as a politically engaged, class conscious individual at least, and a full on Leninist at best. Now obviously I do not expect DC comics to publish a comic about communist superman without it being a laughable piece of propaganda like RED SON, but nonetheless, hearing that Absolute Superman is about a superman who is fighting a mining corporation to protect a community of abused labourers, and re-imagining Krypton as a caste-based society that was destroyed by reckless exploitation of the environment, I was certainly interested.

I resolved to check it out at least. I'd seen some of the details about Absolute Batman, that he's not a billionaire and whatever and still wasn't too interested, but realized I'd heard basically nothing about Absolute Wonder Woman. "She didn't grow up on Themyscira" okay what does that mean?

At this point both Batman and Wonder Woman were out so I looked it up and found some pages from Absolute Wonder Woman #1 and was pretty much instantly hooked because the art was tremendous, and Wonder Woman is flying on a skeleton pegasus with a huge Guts sword and like, that just fucking rocks ass, come on. So I was now sold on two Absolute series, I decided eh, what the hell I'll check out Absolute Batman #1, maybe I could be convinced.

So now that I've read all three first issues of the new ABSOLUTE Universe, I have some thoughts.

ABSOLUTE BATMAN #1 is a confused mess. I think that Batman, being easily the most popular DC character, with the broadest demographic appeal, has too much baggage. You'd kind of think that with a character like this where everyone knows his whole basic backstory, you could gloss over the details a bit more, but this issue is so concerned with establishing and referencing as many iconic Batman characters as possible, it's so bloated.

in this one(1) issue they set up or directly show you: Alfred Pennyworth, Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Killer Croc, Penguin, Riddler, Cat Woman, Two-Face, Black Mask, Ras Al Ghul, and of course we cannot go even one single issue without giving you The Joinker. It's too much. Ease off. We're not going to encounter probably two thirds of these people for ages. And, frankly establishing that half of Batman's presumptive rogue's gallery just so happened to be Bruce Wayne's childhood friends is dumb as shit. The dynamic between all of them is going to follow the exact same "gasp, could it be that my old friend is now a criminal?!" dynamic like 5 times in a row.

This is easily the most edgy of the current Absolute series and is basically exactly what I assumed the whole imprint was going to be, but it really feels in places like Scott Snyder wanted this to be a Batman that was darker and more violent but then DC editorial was like "no, Batman can't kill people" so he adjusted the script as little as possible to reassure the audience that he's rolling non-lethal damage as he stabs the shit out of people with his ear-knives and chops their hands off.

Despite all the parts I don't like about how they portray Batman, the thing that pisses me off is I really like the way they are doing Bruce Wayne.

Typically Bruce Wayne, the billionaire is kind of a hard character for me to like because of how much he serves this kind of great man power fantasy(yes, I know, superhero comics are inherently fascist) He has a vendetta against the concept of crime because his parents were killed by a criminal, so he takes it upon himself to "protect" Gotham, but in many depictions of Batman it's kind of like, what exactly is his connection to the city other than he lives there and presumably is the HQ of Wayne Enterprises. he views it the way a rich person would, dirty and too full of undesirable people who must be punished so that he, a wealthy socialite can enjoy the place without having to see the underclasses.

Making Bruce a working class urbanist is such a more interesting way of exploring the character. He loves the city because he grew up in it's streets, played in it's parks, attended it's schools, rode it's busses. Adding the layer on that that he became a civil engineer and worked with the municipal government does for the first time I've ever seen something interesting with Gotham by kind of interrogating the notion of what makes a city what it is. Is it the infrastructure, the people, the civil servants? It's the most interesting Bruce Wayne has ever been.

But then as Batman he's just fucking mutilating people and blowing them up with bombs and whatever. Yawn. I think that the Batman aspect also annoys me because it so blatantly disregards the central premise of the Absolute line. What if Batman wasn't a billionaire? Well then he wouldn't have access to tons of money and resources to do his Batman shit! So they like, half-ass that by giving him the kind of stripped-down arsenal. No gadgets and gizmos, just knives and a hunk of bat shaped metal used as a battle axe. But then oh yeah he also has some kind of miracle fabric that he can use as like tendrils or whatever and it's completely bullet-proof and so on and so forth. Like, Batman really really does not feel in any meaningful way like he is working at a disadvantage in this version of the story, and that just makes the whole thing so damn boring.

ABSOLUTE WONDER WOMAN #1 fucking kicks ass. This was by kind of a wide margin the best issue of the three series debut issues. I think that unlike Batman and Superman who both have quite a lot of baggage tied into their backstories and supporting cast and so forth, Wonder Woman has never quite achieved the level of iconography as they have so there's almost more freedom to do something new without hitting a bunch of prescribed plot points. In fact she might be the one of the trinity who has had the most attempts to re-imagine her and spruce her up to get people interested. I recall back in 2010 they did a big shake up that was not too dissimilar to this new take on the character. What if she never grew up on Themyscira? What if she didn't have the favour of the gods, etc. And I really liked that one, so I guess it's no surprise I'd be fond of this new version as well.

I think the number one thing that hooked me on this issue is the artwork, tbh. It's my favourite style so far of the Absolute comics, and everything just looks so cool and big and epic and awesome. That's it. It's just cool as hell.

The next most important thing is it has much better pacing than the other issues. You get a very simple, very effective set-up. The Amazons have been punished by the gods so this baby is being raised in hell by a witch. That's it. Good, effective time lapse of her growing up interspersed within the action scenes of her fighting monsters. It's simple and to the point but still leaves me invested int he mystery and wanting to know more. And again, it did not feel the need to shoe-horn a bunch of characters in so you can do the soyjack point at the issue. They could have easily shoved Steve Trevor in there as one of the soldiers responding to the freaky monster pyramid but that would have just been lame. It's confident enough in itself to not have to try and get you with low hanging fruit.

I don't really have much else to say, it's just cool and good and I'm unequivocally excited for more.

ABSOLUTE SUPERMAN #1 is a solid start. Now I'll admit I'm way more of a Superman-head than I am for Batman or Wonder Woman. This was the series that made me interested in the Absolute experiment in the first place, so I'm probably way more willing to be lenient towards a Superman title than say Batman.

That being said, this one also has like Batman, aspects I really like, and others I'm a bit iffy on, though not in as wide a gulf as Absolute Batman. As I said before, I've spent probably too much time trying to think of how to reinvent Superman in a modern context and, specifically, from a politically left-wing perspective, and I'll say that so far I think they're doing a decent job.

It's obviously nothing new to look at Superman as an immigrant story. Going all the way back to Siegel & Shuster, who were children of Jewish immigrants, the whole idea was what if this guy came from somewhere else. I think that the way that Jason Aaron has interpreted that concept for a modern context is actually quite brilliant. It's almost less of what if Superman was an immigrant than what if Superman was a refugee? Rather than unable to return to his homeland, but finding a new home with loving foster parents we are given the suggestion that he's never had a stable home since arriving on Earth. Moving from one place to another, nowhere to go home to, hiding among the economically exploited peoples of the global south.

It's such a riveting set up, I'm really excited to see how this version of the Character is informed by his history.

I also like the use of Krypton as kind of a heavy-handed double metaphor for stratified class society and the dangers of climate change. Like, it is presumably already dead and gone and unable to like, textually affect the story so who cares if it's allegorical nature is too on the nose. I also really like the notion of Kal El having like, living memory of Krypton, rather than only knowing about it from recordings on an alien flash drive or whatever.

I think the use of this "Lazarus" corporation as a kind of stand-in blanket evil corporation that does every kind of exploitative, extractive, broadly seen as morally wrong kinds of industries a bit hokey but hey it's a comic. I love the use of the Peacemakers as the like, corporate PMC security force though, that's fun. I am pretty curious if Lazarus is going to be a kind of fake-out Lexcorp. Like Luthor is the head of it but they called it by a different name so as not to ruin the surprise of his introduction. That or maybe it's related to Ras Al Ghul? Who knows, but I'm interested in what their whole deal is. They not only operate diamond mines and factory farms but also like, hunt down alien technology to reverse engineer?? And employ a Brainiac. curious as to what the deal is with the screaming jars. Does being shrunk down just like, really hurt? Seems like almost going overboard with the concept. Like not only does he shrink down cities and put them in jars but he also tortures the shrunken people? Like why, what's he getting out of it?

Some of the iffy parts for me include the suit AI thing he's got because I'm frankly sick of that trope by now. Ever since Iron man it's like every fucking character in comics has to have some kind of tech suit with a quirky robot voice. I'm willing to give it a chance on the grounds that it's like alien technology so sure whatever. I kind of like that he has to fucking charge the suit with a solar panel. I am curious about what exactly the breakdown is with the suit. He uses his x-ray and laser eyes so presumably it's still Kal himself who has super powers and they're not like, imbued by the suit. The suit seems like it is regulating his powers in some way. Like without it he couldn't control them and would cause havoc, but the fact that he has to like charge the suit's battery is kind of funny. Like, is the suit solar powered and his powers are just inherent no matter what, or does he still derive his power from sunlight as well? Fuzzy on the rules.

I also don't like the Lois reveal. It's just dull. Who care. The little teaser of Kent Farm is interesting to me. Feels like several different ways they could pivot:

Kal El's rocket lands and blows a hole in their barn, they find him and are frightened of him so they call the authorities/Lazarus and Kal flees.

Similar to above but they care for him like usual before Lazarus shows up looking for the alien craft and kill the Kents to remove any witnesses

Altogether it does enough things I'm interested in to keep me going with it despite the few quibbles I have. So far it's 2/3 on the Absolute universe and with the "phase 2" or whatever announced I'm 100% guaranteed also picking up Absolute Flash because it's my boy Wally and Jeff Lemire writing, like come the fuck on, how could I resist that.

#DC #dc comics #absolute comics #absolute universe #dc absolute #dc all in #absolute batman #absolute wonder woman #absolute superman #batman #bruce wayne #wonder woman #diana of themyscira #superman #kal el #clark kent #self indulgence #rambling

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 19 hours ago

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@zepskies

Girl, I am so excited to read what you thought of this chapter!

The aftermath of her trying to piece together her memories of her parents' death and her brother's betrayal is so heartbreaking. 😥 Like she's realizing that the narrative of her life was a lie, in a way. Hopefully she'll be able to reclaim the part of her past that was good and true with her parents, vs. the love and care she still has in her life through the people around her.

Exactly! It's almost like she has to start over and it's like nothing is the same. She is surrounded by people who love her, people who will ADMIT it and people who WON'T ADMIT it lol.

Lol GIRL. You KNOW WHY. You're just refusing to see it! But I could really see this moment in my head like a movie -- that look on Ben's face, watching her walk away. 💔

She does, she's just afraid to admit it to herself and afraid to have those feelings for someone who doesn't love her back. And it really makes you want to hit her over the head with a frying pan LOL. And thank you! That's how I intended it to be, which is even more heartbreaking 😭

That little creature she created is interesting though. You really get a sense that she tapped into something in her powers that was before yet unexplored -- like she broke through a barrier without realizing and unlocked new depths within herself.

That's what I was going for! The reader is really discovering new things about herself and I think that's why she's afraid of what comes next. She thought that she was in control of her abilities and knew everything about them, but now she's realizing that she's on the precipice of something that she's never considered about her powers. Plus, I really think that the creature is adorable, well, besides the murder tendencies. (I guess we could also say that about Ben LMAO)

Loll he's really not. But the thing about Ben is, when he does make those gestures, you know it's coming from a place of sincerity because he doesn't soften himself easily.

Yes! Ben is never like that for anyone. He's not doing it because he feels obligated to, it's because he genuinely cares about the reader, even if he won't admit it to himself. 😒

Aww I love her grandmother so much! At least someone in her family is in her corner. 😭

Honestly I love her too! I was so on the fence about introducing her into the story, but I'm glad I did. And yes, the reader needed at least ONE living relative that genuinely cares about her. 😅

I think we ALL know who you meant. 😂

The reader is killing me tbh. I know I've said this before, but writing slow burn is literally almost as bad as reading it. Don't get me wrong I LOVE slow burn, but oh my stars sometimes it's so frustrating for them to both be in so much denial lol. I shouldn't complain because I did this to myself and now it really is "oh look the consequences of my own actions" lol.

I also love how you describe the "creative chaos" of her grandmother's house. The imagery in those paragraphs are so descriptive and lovely to imagine. I love especially: "boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter." It's so grandmotherly and yet feels unique at the same time.

Thank you so much!💗 For me there really is something wonderful about reading/seeing creative chaos in a home, and also looking at creative spaces that people have. I think that there is warmth and comfort in a home that looks lived in. It's why I don't love minimalism, because it looks cold if that makes sense lol.

Discovering more about her past as Soothsayer, as well as her friendship with Ben was so very interesting! I didn't see it coming and that's the best thing of all, but now it's a way her grandmother can relate to her even more -- as well as be in an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man.

Again, I was so on the fence about Soothsayer, but what you said about her being in "an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man" is exactly why I decided to include her. But I think that the reader needed some sage advice from someone who sees through Ben, understands him, and helps the reader come to the same conclusion, that there really is more to Ben that meets the eye and that the reader should "take a chance on him." (Pun intended 😂)

Heart...breaking... 😢 She's such a sweetheart. How can she not realize how much she cares about him (loves him)?

I know 😭 She is going to realize it soon and I am so excited about that reveal. Oh plus I do think that she does know deep down that she does love him and care about him, but she's afraid to admit it because she doesn't want to fall for someone who she believes doesn't value relationships like she does.

GRANDMA YESSSS, TELL HER!!! GET IT THROUGH HER HEAD! lolll Ben isn't incapable of fear (or love), no matter how much he'd like to pretend. The way it comes out of him might "look different," through snappish anger and denial and rigidity, but it's still fear.

Again, Grandma for the win lol.

And YES you said it! It's not that Ben is some emotionless lump who doesn't care about anyone and feels nothing, he feels everything, but he just refuses to show it in the healthy way that people should. He's been so conditioned to see expressing emotions in a healthy way as something to be "frowned upon" so instead he has all these explosions of unhealthy angst that really don't help anyone.

Come on now, Ben. You're over 100 years old! Surely you get what's happening to you by now! 🤣🤣 You're simping for a girl you care about!

He really should know better 😅😂

Oooh the plants are keeping her young, huh? 😏 Maybe enough to sync up her lifespan with Ben's???

Mayyyybbbbeeeee...😉

Honestly, as much as I love reading fics where the reader isn't a supe, there's always a little part of me that can't help but see the reader growing old and Ben staying the same, and it always breaks my heart. There really is something so intimate and romantic about being able to truly spend your life with someone else, not just your life and then they go on for another few centuries. It's why I don't write too many readers that aren't as indestructible as him. I always try to write in a contingency plan that kind of saves Ben that heartbreak. But that is not to say anything bad about the fics were the reader isn't a supe or able to live as long as him. There are so many of those that I absolutely love and are so well written!

Side note, I did like how you handled it in BMD, when I read that forever ago. It was a good way to save Ben that heartbreak.

LMFAOO. Again, I love her. Kick his ass, Di! Get him in gear! "Try harder" -- INDEED.

Di is really giving him the kick in the pants he needs and is saying the things to him that we've all been saying from the beginning.😂

I'm deeeeeadd! I loved this line so much. 🤣🤣🤣 Benjamin is testing my patience too, good Lord. I can see why he's scared. He's on the verge of admitting he loves her -- and finally doing something about it. After his experience with Countess, that'll put anyone off of trying again to delve into a proper relationship (not to say their relationship was a proper example of a loving one, because it wasn't, obviously). Especially for someone like Ben, who struggles with real intimacy and dealing with his feelings, it makes sense that he'd digging his heels in now -- no matter how frustrating it is. 🙃🙃

It's my favorite line too! That and the bundt cake 😂. But you're right, he's afraid of everything that he's feeling and after Countess, he's not sure if he should fall for someone again. In relationships you do have to be vulnerable, open, and be emotionally available and for him those two things seem pretty daunting. This whole thing really makes me feel worse for him, because Countess messed him up, and made him afraid to have those feelings for someone else.

But I'm so happy you liked it!! And thank you for all of your wonderful comments. It really is so nice to hear your feedback friend💗😊

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop. It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. “My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it.

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good. That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought. “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

"I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

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