#Vital Secrets Series

[femalebookworm]

Okay, then, this is Vital Secrets series (bundle of book 1-3, but as you can tell, reviews will be separate!) is my first read for 2024 (started Jan 2, ended Jan 3, 8pm sharp), picked this set at random after seeing cover with dude holding a gun and some words like, crime, thriller, suspense, detective work etc attached to it. All that, set my mindset for CSI, NCIS; set the standards too high, but the coincidences were piling up too hard and too fast, I just followed the letters on the e-page.

Yeah yeah, I kept the same intro used for the first book, sue me. List of Secrets is about 32% into this bundle, and while I have the separate book status being marked on Goodreads, I could definitely NOT review 3 books in one go; my brain wouldn’t let me. It would also be super long, and I know Goodreads and my blog have limits. Bear with me, I’ll keep the bundle review simple, just one more book guys, gals and inbetweens. NOT SPOILER FREE, read at your own risk.

Oh man, finally got into the groove of this author. They didn’t disappoint. While the first book was detailed enough for the reader to put it together before the main characters, List of Secrets kept the cloak until almost the last chapter. From the-go you have two serial killers, two siblings (in fact), and they both kinda fall in love with target and target adjacent. So many deaths, so many hearts destroyed. So many lies. The last page kinda gave me the feels that the target and target adjacent has something in common to bond over, and maybe it’s twisted to think the author meant they would become friends — or maybe even something more? Don’t know, the sneak peek suggested Joe would join in win the rest of the OG characters for the next book. Not all complaining. Enjoying it, actually.

Oops, my bad, the characters names - Lizzie, a cop from Seattle whose life changing betrayal of bestie and fiancé took her on a trip where she meets a guy she clicks super fast, Landon. Likable characters, I might add. But they soon return to their lives - Seattle vs Texas. They kinda have a long distance relationship. Cool. Normal. Then we have Samantha (was that her name? Cannot remember. Sorry. I suck with names, and this time I didn’t take any notes) hitting a skii class with a retired athlete, Donny, they fall madly in love within three dates or so, same as Lizzie/Landon. However, they do spend a lot of time together before hell breaks loose. While these couples go about their lives, murders are happening all across the globe, some to people who kinda deserve and others, well… leaving you with a question mark on how they were/are important to begin with. Shit happens, and suddenly the puzzles are put together with the joint efforts of Nathan (whose baby was born somewhere along the crazy murders and relationships growing speedily) and Joe (Lizzie’s godfather, and her dad’s old partner). Some other characters were introduced from other districts as well, and wondering if they will return on book 3 (the final one I HAVE) or even later on.

Hmm, what else can I say? I think this is it. The plot twist I didn’t see coming was the family bond. Familiarity, yes - at one point - but not this. Onto the next book as soon as my headache leaves me alone. Maybe will start it tomorrow only and give my brain and eyes some much needed rest.

[phantomrose96]

Absolutely funny to me that the quintessential reason super heroes keep their identity secret is to prevent villains from identifying their civilian selves and targeting the hero’s loved ones, and Danny’s out here like “oh yeah secret identity on it” but completely missed the memo on the second part so he’s guarding his secret identity tooth and nail from everyone… except literally every single villain of the series, who are all independently capable of doxxing him down to his social security number.

Like yeah the ruthless extrajudicial ghost warden with an eternity vendetta against Danny can show up in his family’s living room literally whenever he wants but thank god Mikey from math class doesn’t know, because that would be awkward.

And then it’s even funnier because it works, actually, considering Danny’s loved ones Started It and most of the villains in Danny’s life should actually be MORE afraid of Danny’s family than they are of Danny himself, and the Fentons already parade around with the ghost equivalent of a “kick me” sign on their backs and a loaded bazooka on their shoulders so there’s no amount of subtle Danny could reasonably be to make any difference. And by the time Phantom is accepted as a hero Danny is left with this inside-out backpack of a secret identity that every villain knows about and thats not protecting his loved ones and under normal superhero rules would no longer be serving any purpose EXCEPT for the very vital detail that his loved ones he’s protecting are the last and biggest outstanding threat to him.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

some points. some things. some ideas. none of which are connected, i'm sure.

"anastasia" means "resurrection" or "one who will be reborn."

she is the only one of the original lyctors explicitly stated to have sired her house's line of succession.

this is vitally important (important enough to have been actively preserved against all odds for 10000 years), but nobody seem to quite understand why, including the reverend family.

alecto says "you are the blood of anastasia," as if this is relevant to her. she then kisses harrow and draws blood.

it's only after getting verbal confirmation and (presumably) tasting her blood that she pledges her sword to harrow.

she says "i am sorry about samael," as if that would mean something to harrow, as if she expects harrow to have the same grief over anastasia's cavalier that anastasia did.

the ninth house is "the house of the sewn tongue," which is a ritual for the keeping of secrets. it also sounds oddly flesh magic-ey for the ninth, which means they probably didn't originate the practice.

this would imply that it's relevant to their history somehow.

the ninth's skull is jawless, which we know from the ianthe situation is the way to undo the effects of the sewn tongue.

when people talk portentously of the ninth, they talk about its "secrets" and its "mysteries," always in the plural.

which implies that there are more secrets than just the tomb. i doubt they added the plural after the creche flu, can you imagine? the ninth has other, very old secrets.

harrow loved alecto from sight.

alecto recognized her immediately.

like i said, this is a series of random, unconnected facts. there are no conclusions whatsoever to be drawn from this.

[bratzkoo]

scheming heart | jeonghan

Author: bratzkoo Pairing:  CFO! Jeonghan x Cardiologist! reader Genre: fluff, chaos Rating: PG-13 Word count: 7.4k~ Warnings/note: second fic for the new series i'm working on, first fic is offside (seungcheol's chaos) and now, we have jeonghan's part of the chaotic world.

summary: Jeonghan has finally found his match in that stubborn cardiologist not knowing that everything was orchestrated by his scheming grandmother in Suite 520.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The VIP suite of Seoul National University Hospital looked like a five-star hotel room had aggressively swallowed a medical facility. Amidst the designer furniture and medical equipment that probably cost more than most people's houses, Granny Han was doing what any respectable 75-year-old chaebol matriarch would do at 7 AM – scheming on her secret iPhone while pretending to be asleep.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥 [Members: Rich_Granny_Han, Nurse_Anna, Boo_CEO, Won_NOT_involved]

Rich_Granny_Han: Operation starts today! New cardiologist incoming! Boo_CEO: OMG YES! Is she pretty? Smart? Ready to handle our dramatic boy? Rich_Granny_Han: Harvard graduate. Young. Scary. Boo_CEO: PERFECT FOR JEONGHAN 😍 Won_NOT_involved: I'm a senior nurse. I don't do matchmaking. Rich_Granny_Han: Sure, dear. BTW I saw you setting up that hidden camera 😘 Won_NOT_involved: ...that's for medical documentation. Nurse_Anna: Babe, we all know you're lying 😂 Won_NOT_involved: I'm turning off my phone. Rich_Granny_Han: No you're not 💅

The door opened, and Granny quickly shoved her phone under her designer hospital blanket (yes, she brought her own, the hospital ones were "peasant fabric").

"Good morning, Halmoni!" Anna breezed in, looking suspiciously cheerful for someone working hospital hours. "Ready for vitals?"

"Anna dear," Granny coughed delicately, a performance worthy of a Best Actress nomination. "Tell me about this new doctor."

"Dr. Y/N," Anna checked the blood pressure monitor while simultaneously texting the group chat behind her back – a skill developed specifically for this job. "Brilliant, scary when caffeine-deprived, and apparently made a chaebol's son cry during her fellowship."

"Perfect!" Granny's eyes gleamed. "Jeonghan needs someone who can handle him. That boy thinks being CFO means Chief Fashion Officer."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: ALERT! Target sighted in parking lot. Three cups of coffee. Dark circles. Optimal chaos conditions! Boo_CEO: On my way with premium bubble tea and emotional support! Won_NOT_involved: Don't you have a company to run? Boo_CEO: Bold of you to assume I do actual work Rich_Granny_Han: Everyone in position! Anna, increase heart monitor sensitivity! Won_NOT_involved: That's against protocol... Rich_Granny_Han: I'll add another zero to your Christmas bonus Won_NOT_involved: ...sensitivity increased.

Dr. Y/N strode down the hallway, white coat pristine despite the early hour. As the attending cardiologist, she'd already reviewed several cases since 6 AM. Her coffee consumption was legendary among the cardiology department – not because she was a fresh graduate (she wasn't), but because dealing with entitled family members required chemical assistance.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: Target acquired! Our cardiologist looks ready to destroy rich people today Boo_CEO: Jeonghan needs that energy in his life tbh Won_NOT_involved: Shouldn't you be checking on your other patients? Nurse_Anna: Babe, this IS patient care. Emotional patient care. Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, go check my IV drip Won_NOT_involved: It's perfectly fine... Rich_Granny_Han: That wasn't a suggestion 😊 Won_NOT_involved: ...checking IV drip now.

Y/N entered Suite 520 to find what looked like a carefully orchestrated scene: Granny Han propped up regally against designer pillows, Anna adjusting monitors with suspicious enthusiasm, and Wonwoo dutifully checking IV lines while pretending not to notice Anna's not-so-subtle winks.

"Good morning, Mrs. Han. I'm Dr. Y/N, your attending cardiologist."

"Please, call me Halmoni," Granny's voice was perfectly pitched between frail and commanding. "Everyone does. Even Wonwoo here, and he tries so hard to be professional."

Wonwoo, caught in the crossfire, focused intently on the IV drip.

The morning assessment went smoothly – suspiciously so. Y/N reviewed Granny's cardiac status while fielding questions that seemed oddly personal for a medical consultation: "Are you married, doctor?" "Do you like coffee? My grandson LOVES coffee." "What's your opinion on dramatic men in expensive suits?"

By 2 PM, all hell broke loose.

The suite's door flew open with theatrical force. Wonwoo, who had been checking Granny's vitals, nearly jumped out of his skin – though whether from the noise or Anna's excited squeal was unclear.

Enter Han Jeonghan, looking like he'd walked off a magazine cover. His Armani suit probably cost more than most nurses' monthly salary – a fact Wonwoo noted with an eye-roll so powerful it could have registered on the cardiac monitor.

"Who," Jeonghan demanded, brandishing his phone, "changed my grandmother's medication without consulting the family?"

Y/N, who had spent years dealing with entitled relatives, simply raised an eyebrow. "I did. Because I'm her doctor, and unlike WebMD, I actually went to medical school."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: OMGOMGOMG IT'S HAPPENING Boo_CEO: The TENSION! The DRAMA! Won_NOT_involved: I'm literally just trying to do my job here Rich_Granny_Han: Time for my award-winning performance! Won_NOT_involved: Please don't mess with the monitors again... Rich_Granny_Han: Too late! Nurse_Anna: Babe just enjoy the show Won_NOT_involved: I still have other patients Rich_Granny_Han: Shush, love is happening Won_NOT_involved: That's not how nursing works... Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520 😘

The cardiac monitor suddenly started beeping. Wonwoo shot Granny a look that clearly said "I know what you did," but professionally checked the readings anyway.

"Oh dear," Granny fluttered a hand over her heart. "All this tension... it's affecting my poor heart..."

Y/N and Jeonghan immediately stopped arguing, their professional and filial instincts kicking in respectively.

"Blood pressure's a bit elevated," Wonwoo reported dutifully, while Anna practically vibrated with excitement beside him.

"Maybe," Y/N suggested dryly, "certain people could be less dramatic during your recovery period."

"Maybe," Jeonghan countered, "certain doctors could be more communicative about medical decisions."

The monitor beeped again.

"Children, please," Granny's voice was weak but somehow carried perfect emotional manipulation. "Wonwoo, be a dear and get me some water? And Anna, I need my pills... the ones in the far cabinet..."

Both nurses recognized a dismissal when they heard one. As they left (Anna practically dragging Wonwoo), their phones buzzed:

Rich_Granny_Han: Mission proceeding perfectly! Phase 1 complete! Nurse_Anna: They're so cute when they're angry! Boo_CEO: OMW with premium drama fuel (coffee)! Won_NOT_involved: Can we please just have one normal patient? Rich_Granny_Han: No ❤️

Left alone with the feuding doctor and CFO, Granny settled in to watch the show. Her "concerned grandmother" facade barely concealing her glee.

"Since you're so invested in your grandmother's care," Y/N's voice dripped with professional sarcasm, "let me explain the medication changes in terms even a CFO can understand."

Jeonghan's perfectly maintained eyebrow twitched. "Please do. Use small words for us non-Harvard graduates."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The sexual tension! I can't breathe! Nurse_Anna: Should I come back with the oxygen? Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, that was metaphorical Won_NOT_involved: Thank god, the paperwork for unnecessary oxygen... Boo_CEO: INCOMING with reinforcements! And bubble tea! Rich_Granny_Han: Perfect timing!

The suite's door burst open again, revealing Seungkwan balancing a tray of expensive bubble tea and wearing a suit that rivaled Jeonghan's.

"Halmoni!" he sang out, then dramatically gasped at the scene before him. "Oh my, am I interrupting something?"

"Perfect timing, Seungkwan-ah," Granny's voice somehow conveyed both frailty and mischief. "Stay and help me understand the doctor's explanation. My old heart would feel better with more family present."

Y/N watched as her simple medical consultation turned into what felt like a business presentation, complete with:

One overdressed CFO pretending to take notes while actually googling medical terms

His equally overdressed best friend providing dramatic gasps as punctuation

Two nurses who kept finding excuses to check the monitors

And a grandmother whose "heart symptoms" seemed suspiciously tied to whenever her grandson and doctor moved closer together

"So," Y/N concluded her explanation, "any questions about the medication changes?"

"Just one," Jeonghan smiled his business smile. "Where did you get your coffee? You seem to run on it as much as I do."

Before Y/N could respond, three things happened simultaneously:

The cardiac monitor beeped enthusiastically

Seungkwan choked on his bubble tea

Anna materialized with a coffee menu from the hospital's premium cafe

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: CODE COFFEE! I repeat, CODE COFFEE! Boo_CEO: Their first potential coffee date! I'm crying 😭 Won_NOT_involved: This isn't what medical codes are for... Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo, go get me a cardiac reading Won_NOT_involved: Your heart is fine Rich_Granny_Han: Not for my heart, for the drama Won_NOT_involved: sigh

"Oh, speaking of coffee," Granny perked up with suspicious energy for someone supposedly weak, "Jeonghan-ah, that fancy machine you brought me is too complicated. Maybe Dr. Y/N could help you figure it out?"

Y/N looked at the state-of-the-art espresso machine in the corner – probably worth more than her monthly salary. Jeonghan was already moving toward it with the confidence of a man who thought knowing how to make coffee was a personality trait.

"I only drink americanos," Y/N stated firmly.

"What a coincidence," Seungkwan stage-whispered, "that's Jeonghan's favorite too!"

The monitor beeped again.

"That's it," Y/N turned to Wonwoo, "please check the monitor's sensitivity."

"Oh, it's very sensitive," Wonwoo muttered, then quickly added at Granny's sharp look, "I'll... run some tests."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Progress report!

Coffee connection established ✓

Mutual annoyance at peak levels ✓

Jeonghan fixed his hair 3 times ✓

Doctor checked her reflection in the monitor ✓ 

Boo_CEO: THE EXCELLENCE OF THIS PLOT Nurse_Anna: Should I accidentally spill something so they have to move closer? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save that for tomorrow dear Won_NOT_involved: Why am I even reading this chat... Nurse_Anna: Because you love me 😘 Won_NOT_involved: Accurate. Always will be accurate. Rich_Granny_Han: Simp

"Dr. Y/N," Granny called out sweetly, "your afternoon must be busy. Why don't you take some coffee with you? Jeonghan makes excellent americanos."

"I'm quite capable of getting my own coffee, thank you," Y/N replied professionally.

"Are you?" Jeonghan smirked, already starting the machine. "Because that hospital cafe americano you're holding looks tragic."

Y/N looked at her cup, then at his perfectly pressed suit, then at her patient charts. Pride warred with caffeine addiction.

Caffeine won.

"Fine. One coffee. Purely for professional courtesy."

"Of course," Jeonghan's smile was far too satisfied. "Professional courtesy."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: DAY ONE SUCCESS! Nurse_Anna: They're so cute I'm gonna cry Boo_CEO: Already planning the wedding Won_NOT_involved: It's literally just coffee Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe, you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I hate this family Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't Won_NOT_involved: No, I don't, but I want it noted that I complained and I love Anna, I want it highlighted in the note that I love Anna. Nurse_Anna: I love you! Rich_Granny_Han: This is a Jeonghan fic.

As Y/N left with her admittedly perfect americano, Granny Han settled back against her pillows with a satisfied smile. Phase one was complete. Tomorrow, they'd begin Code: "Accidental Touch."

Poor Y/N and Jeonghan had no idea what they were in for.

- Y/N arrived at the hospital the next morning to find a paper cup from an expensive coffee shop sitting on her office desk. Next to it was a note in pretentiously perfect handwriting:

"Since your taste in coffee is as questionable as your medication choices. - JH"

She crumpled the note, then uncrumpled it, then took a sip of the coffee.

Damn. It was perfect.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: COFFEE SPOTTED! Code: Caffeine Love is go! Rich_Granny_Han: Did she drink it?? Nurse_Anna: She tried to look angry but I saw her save the note Boo_CEO: THE ROMANCE Won_NOT_involved: He's basically saying her medical decisions suck Rich_Granny_Han: That's flirting for rich boys, dear Won_NOT_involved: That's terrible Rich_Granny_Han: That's why he’s single

Suite 520 was suspiciously quiet when Y/N entered for morning rounds. Granny was reading what appeared to be a medical textbook – upside down. Anna was "organizing supplies" while obviously watching the door.

"Good morning, Dr. Y/N!" Granny brightened. "Oh my, is that coffee from Angel-in-us? Jeonghan loves that cafe—"

"Your ECG results, Mrs. Han," Y/N interrupted professionally.

The suite's door opened, and Jeonghan walked in wearing a different devastatingly expensive suit. He paused at seeing Y/N with his coffee cup.

"I see you've upgraded your taste," he smirked.

"The coffee's acceptable. Your medical opinions still aren't."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THEY'RE FLIRTING THROUGH COFFEE Nurse_Anna: The tension is ART Rich_Granny_Han: Time for some chest pain I think Won_NOT_involved: Please don't Rich_Granny_Han: Too late, clutching chest dramatically now Won_NOT_involved: That's not how heart problems work... Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn, child

"Oh!" Granny pressed a hand to her chest. "Such tension... my heart..."

Y/N and Jeonghan both stepped forward, accidentally bumping into each other. Anna dropped a tray with perfect timing.

"Mrs. Han," Y/N began.

"Halmoni," Granny corrected weakly. "You're practically family now that you're sharing coffee with Jeonghan."

Jeonghan choked. Y/N's professional mask cracked slightly.

Later that afternoon, Y/N was reviewing charts when her office door burst open. Jeonghan stood there, waving his phone.

"Your afternoon consult notes say Halmoni's tired," he accused.

"That's generally what 'fatigue' means in medical terms, yes."

"She's never tired. She once conducted a 12-hour board meeting from a yoga headstand."

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Han—"

"Jeonghan."

"Mr. Han," she emphasized, "normal people get tired. Even chaebol grandmothers."

"She's not normal people. She's—" He paused, noticing her empty coffee cup. "You finished the coffee."

"That's not medically relevant."

"I'll bring you another tomorrow."

"Are you trying to bribe your grandmother's doctor?"

"Is it working?"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: EMERGENCY! They're alone in her office!! Boo_CEO: WHERE ARE THE CAMERAS Rich_Granny_Han: Anna dear, perhaps Dr. Y/N needs some test results? Won_NOT_involved: We don't have any test results Rich_Granny_Han: Then make some Won_NOT_involved: That's literally fraud Rich_Granny_Han: That's literally romance Nurse_Anna: OMW with fake papers! Won_NOT_involved: That's fine, go do your thing babe!

The door flew open again, revealing Anna with a stack of papers. "Dr. Y/N! The results you needed!"

"I didn't order any—"

"Oh look," Anna squinted at the papers, "Mrs. Han's... everything... needs discussing. Right now. With family present."

Y/N looked at the "results". They were coffee-stained printouts of WebMD articles.

Evening rounds found Y/N entering Suite 520 to an unusual scene:

Granny "sleeping" while obviously filming on her phone

Seungkwan pretending to read a magazine (upside down)

Anna adjusting already-perfect monitors

Wonwoo looking like he wanted to transfer departments

And Jeonghan, attempting to understand her morning notes

"That's not how you read an ECG," she said from the doorway.

Jeonghan didn't look up. "I downloaded a medical app."

"WebMD doesn't count."

"This is a different medical app."

"Is it also WebMD in a trench coat?"

A laugh escaped before he could stop it. Y/N pretended not to notice how it transformed his face.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: HE LAUGHED! REAL LAUGH! NOT BUSINESS LAUGH! Boo_CEO: FIRST GENUINE LAUGH IN 84 YEARS Nurse_Anna: They're so cuuuuute Won_NOT_involved: He's still questioning her medical expertise Rich_Granny_Han: Yes but fondly now Nurse_Anna: Babe that's progress Won_NOT_involved: Your standards are concerning Rich_Granny_Han: Shush and help me plan tomorrow's heart episode

Granny "woke up" with perfect timing. "Doctor, since you're teaching Jeonghan medical terms, perhaps over coffee—"

"No," they said simultaneously.

"The heart wants what it wants," Granny sighed dramatically.

The monitor beeped.

"That's it," Y/N turned to Wonwoo, "please check the monitor's sensitivity again."

"It's working exactly as intended," he muttered, then added louder at Granny's look, "I mean, yes, doctor, right away."

As Y/N left for the night, she found another coffee cup on the nurses' station.

The note read: "For your overnight studies on how to be less scary to your patients. - JH"

She definitely didn't smile. And if she did, no one could prove it.

Except maybe the CCTV footage Wonwoo was pretending not to save for Anna’s enjoyment.

- Late that night, Y/N was finishing her paperwork when she decided to check on Granny one last time. It definitely had nothing to do with the possibility of running into a certain annoying CFO.

She found Suite 520's lights dimmed, but not dark. Jeonghan was there, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, squinting at a medical textbook like it had personally offended him.

"That's upside down," she said from the doorway.

He didn't even flinch. "I'm teaching myself to read medical terms in all directions. Very professional."

"Is that what CFOs do in their spare time?"

"Only the dashingly handsome ones."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: NIGHT SHIFT ALERT! They're alone! Boo_CEO: At this hour??? SCANDALOUS Rich_Granny_Han: pretending to sleep but recording everything Won_NOT_involved: Isn't anyone concerned about patient privacy? Rich_Granny_Han: Privacy is for people who aren't trying to get grandchildren Nurse_Anna: LMAO GRANNY Won_NOT_involved: I'm reporting this chat to HR Rich_Granny_Han: I own HR, dear. Keep up!

"Your grandmother's readings are stable," Y/N said professionally, checking the monitors. "Though someone keeps adjusting the sensitivity."

"Shocking," Jeonghan deadpanned, watching her work. "Almost as shocking as you being here at," he checked his Cartier watch, "11 PM?"

"I'm dedicated to my patients."

"Just my grandmother, or do you check on everyone this late?"

"Are you implying something, Mr. Han?"

"Jeonghan," he corrected. "And I'm implying you might be as obsessed with my grandmother as I am. It's okay, she has that effect on people."

From the bed, Granny let out a very fake snore.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The snore was too much wasn't it Boo_CEO: Oscar worthy, Halmoni! Nurse_Anna: Should I create an emergency? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save the emergencies for tomorrow Won_NOT_involved: Why are all of you like this? Nurse_Anna: Because we're invested in love Won_NOT_involved: We're invested in medical care Rich_Granny_Han: Why not both?

Y/N was about to leave when Jeonghan spoke again. "I ordered every cardiology textbook available."

"I noticed. The coffee table looks like a medical library exploded."

"I'm trying to understand." He sounded almost sincere. "She's all I have left."

Y/N paused at the door. "Your grandmother is in good hands, Mr. Han."

"Jeonghan."

"Mr. Han."

He smiled. A real one, not his business smile. "You're going to slip up and call me Jeonghan eventually."

"Unlikely."

"Want to bet? Loser buys coffee."

"That would be unprofessional."

"Is that a no?"

Y/N left without answering, but they both knew she was smiling.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're FLIRTING Boo_CEO: Through MEDICAL TERMS Nurse_Anna: I'M SCREAMING Won_NOT_involved: This is a hospital, please don't scream Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, did you get all that on camera? Won_NOT_involved: ...maybe Nurse_Anna: BABE YOU'RE FINALLY HELPING Won_NOT_involved: It's for medical documention. Rich_Granny_Han: Sure it is, dear. Sure it is. Won_NOT_involved: fine, it’s for Anna. Rich_Granny_Han: BLESSED

The next morning, Y/N found not one but two coffee cups on her desk.

First note: "For accepting that 'Mr. Han' will eventually become 'Jeonghan' - JH"

Second note: "For when you inevitably throw the first one at my head - JH"

She was not charmed. She absolutely was not.

But she kept both notes.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: SHE KEPT THE NOTES Boo_CEO: Not just kept - she SMILED Rich_Granny_Han: Time to escalate. Anna dear, remember that 'emergency' we planned? Won_NOT_involved: Oh no Rich_Granny_Han: Oh YES Boo_CEO: WHAT EMERGENCY?? Won_NOT_involved: I don't want to know Rich_Granny_Han: Trust me, this will be fun Won_NOT_involved: Your definition of fun concerns me Nurse_Anna: Babe just embrace the chaos Won_NOT_involved: I miss my old department Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now, about tomorrow's plan… -

3 AM at Seoul National University Hospital was typically quiet. Tonight, however...

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Places everyone! Code: Emergency Romance begins! Boo_CEO: At 3AM?? You're evil, Halmoni Rich_Granny_Han: Evil? No. Strategic? Yes. Nurse_Anna: Night shift ready! Won_NOT_involved: This is highly unethical Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, just make sure the lights are dimmed romantically Won_NOT_involved: That's not a medical setting Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520

The cardiac monitor in Suite 520 suddenly went off – louder than strictly necessary. Wonwoo, who was genuinely checking vitals, jumped.

"Halmoni, what did you—"

"Call Dr. Y/N," Granny commanded, looking far too alert for 3 AM. "And someone call my grandson."

"Your readings are actually fine—"

"Wonwoo." Granny's sweet smile held steel. "Make. The. Calls."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: Y/N's on her way! Night shift said she was doing paperwork anyway Boo_CEO: At 3AM?? She needs a life Rich_Granny_Han: She needs my grandson Won_NOT_involved: She needs sleep, actually Rich_Granny_Han: Details, details

Y/N arrived first, looking surprisingly put-together for the ungodly hour. Her white coat was pristine, but the six empty coffee cups on her desk told their own story.

"Mrs. Han, what's—"

"HALMONI!"

Jeonghan burst in, designer pajamas under a hastily thrown-on coat, hair actually messy for once.

"You called him too?" Y/N raised an eyebrow at the nurses.

"Hospital protocol," Anna said solemnly. Wonwoo suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: HIS HAIR IS MESSY THIS IS NOT A DRILL Nurse_Anna: Y/N definitely noticed 👀 Rich_Granny_Han: Time for my performance~ Won_NOT_involved: Please don't Rich_Granny_Han: Too late!

"Oh, my heart," Granny clutched her chest dramatically. "Such worry in young faces..."

"Your readings are actually—" Wonwoo started.

"SUCH WORRY," Granny repeated louder. "Perhaps if you both stayed..."

Y/N was already checking the monitors. Jeonghan hovered nearby, close enough that she could smell his ridiculously expensive cologne.

"Your grandmother is fine, Mr. Han."

"Jeonghan."

"Your grandmother is fine, Mr. Han."

"You're doing this on purpose now."

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Han."

His laugh was soft, unguarded. Different from his business laugh.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: THE SOFT LAUGH!! AT 3AM!! Boo_CEO: THEY'RE STANDING SO CLOSE Rich_Granny_Han: Anna dear, dim the lights more Won_NOT_involved: That's not safe Rich_Granny_Han: Love isn't safe Won_NOT_involved: That's not medical protocol Rich_Granny_Han: Suite 520 has its own protocols

"Doctor," Granny's voice was weak but her eyes sparkled. "Since you're both here, perhaps some coffee?"

"At 3 AM?" Y/N asked.

"I brought my own beans," Jeonghan offered, then caught himself. "I mean, I happen to have some in my car."

"You just happen to have premium coffee beans in your car at 3 AM?"

"A good CFO is always prepared."

"For middle-of-the-night coffee emergencies?"

"Especially those."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: HE KEEPS COFFEE FOR HER IN HIS CAR Nurse_Anna: I'M CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE Rich_Granny_Han: Phase 1 success. Anna, initiate phase 2 Won_NOT_involved: There are phases?? Rich_Granny_Han: Of course dear, this is a military operation Nurse_Anna: On it! accidentally spilling water now Won_NOT_involved: Why did I fall in love with a conspirator

"Oh!" Anna's theatrical gasp preceded the sound of water splashing.

Y/N and Jeonghan jumped apart – when had they gotten so close? – only to bump into each other again.

"Sorry, let me—" Jeonghan reached for napkins.

"No, I can—" Y/N moved at the same time.

Their hands touched. Both froze.

Granny's monitor beeped suspiciously fast.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: THE HAND TOUCH!!! Boo_CEO: THIS IS BETTER THAN DRAMAS Nurse_Anna: Should I spill more water?? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save it for next time Won_NOT_involved: There's a next time?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, we're just getting started

"Well," Y/N cleared her throat professionally. "Since your grandmother is stable, I should—"

"Stay for coffee," Jeonghan said quickly. "I mean, since we're both awake anyway."

"That would be unprofessional."

"Everything about this situation is unprofessional."

Y/N glanced at Granny (pretending to sleep), Anna (badly hiding her phone), and Wonwoo (looking like he wanted witness protection).

"One coffee," she conceded. "For medical alertness purposes."

"Of course," Jeonghan's smile was too knowing. "Purely medical."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: COFFEE DATE AT 3AM Nurse_Anna: Romance is ALIVE Rich_Granny_Han: Mission accomplished! Won_NOT_involved: It's just coffee Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I want a department transfer Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now help me plan tomorrow Won_NOT_involved: ...what's tomorrow? Rich_Granny_Han: You'll see 😈

As Y/N and Jeonghan sat in the suite's sitting area, sharing premium coffee at 3 AM while pretending this was normal, Granny Han smiled in her "sleep."

Phase one of Operation Emergency Romance was complete.

Poor kids had no idea what she had planned for breakfast.

- Several hours and many coffees later, sunrise found the suite in a different state:

Y/N curled up in an armchair, white coat slightly rumpled

Jeonghan asleep on the couch, designer pajamas and all

Files spread between them from their "purely professional discussion"

Two empty coffee cups with a concerning number of espresso shots

Granny, definitely not sleeping, taking photos for her secret Instagram

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: THEY FELL ASLEEP IN MY SUITE Boo_CEO: TOGETHER????? Nurse_Anna: Not together together but STILL Won_NOT_involved: This violates at least 5 hospital policies Rich_Granny_Han: Love violates all policies Nurse_Anna: Time for noisy morning check-up? 😈 Rich_Granny_Han: Make it EXTRA noisy

Anna burst into the suite with maximum chaos energy, deliberately dropping a metal tray.

The effect was immediate:

Y/N jolted awake, doctor mode activating

Jeonghan fell off the couch, rich person grace temporarily absent

Granny quickly pretended to just wake up

Wonwoo, entering behind Anna, looked like he wanted to quit

"Good morning!" Anna sang, far too cheerfully. "Time for morning vitals!"

Y/N and Jeonghan stared at each other, then at their wrinkled clothes, then at the evidence of their all-night coffee session.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE MORNING AFTER CHAOS Nurse_Anna: Y/N's hair is messy I repeat MESSY Rich_Granny_Han: Quick! Someone get a breakfast cart! Won_NOT_involved: The hospital doesn't do breakfast carts Rich_Granny_Han: The VIP floor does now Won_NOT_involved: Since when?? Rich_Granny_Han: Since I ordered it 5 minutes ago Boo_CEO: ALREADY ON IT WITH PREMIUM BREAKFAST

"I should..." Y/N stood, attempting to smooth her coat.

"Yeah, I need to..." Jeonghan ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Oh, but breakfast is coming!" Granny perked up. "You both must be hungry after staying up all night... discussing medical things."

The way she said "medical things" made both of them blush.

Right on cue, Seungkwan waltzed in pushing a cart laden with what looked like a five-star hotel breakfast spread.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: Breakfast service has arrived~ Nurse_Anna: They're both so awkward I'M LIVING Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, check my heart. Make it take a while Won_NOT_involved: That's not how check-ups work Rich_Granny_Han: It is if you want that Christmas bonus Won_NOT_involved: ...this might take a while, doctor

"Since Wonwoo needs to do a thorough check-up," Granny smiled innocently, "why don't you both have breakfast? No need to waste good food."

Y/N looked at her wrinkled coat, her empty coffee cups, and her clearly compromised professional boundaries.

Jeonghan looked at his messy hair, his designer pajamas, and his equally compromised chaebol dignity.

"One coffee," they said simultaneously.

"And maybe some toast," Y/N added.

"And those croissants," Jeonghan pointed.

"Purely for energy."

"Completely professional."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're having breakfast together! Boo_CEO: In their sleepwear basically!! Nurse_Anna: ROMANCE LEVEL 1000 Won_NOT_involved: This is still a hospital Rich_Granny_Han: No, this is Suite 520, different rules apply Won_NOT_involved: That's not how hospitals work Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn, child

As they awkwardly settled with their breakfast, maintaining a careful distance that fooled absolutely no one, Granny spoke up.

"You know, Jeonghan-ah, Dr. Y/N's americano is getting cold."

Jeonghan immediately reached for the coffee machine.

"And doctor, Jeonghan skipped dinner last night. He should eat more than croissants."

Y/N found herself pushing the egg dishes closer to him.

They caught each other's eyes, realized they were being played, and quickly looked away.

But not before small smiles appeared.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: THE SOFT SMILES Boo_CEO: While sharing breakfast!! Rich_Granny_Han: Young love is so beautiful Won_NOT_involved: It's been like 3 days Rich_Granny_Han: Time moves faster in Suite 520 Nurse_Anna: It's the power of love Won_NOT_involved: It's the power of sleep deprivation Rich_Granny_Han: Same thing dear, same thing

The peaceful breakfast was interrupted by Y/N's pager.

"I need to..." she stood quickly.

"Right, I should..." Jeonghan also rose.

They did an awkward dance trying to avoid bumping into each other, failed miserably, and ended up closer than ever.

"Thanks for the medical discussion," Y/N said professionally.

"Thanks for the coffee company," Jeonghan replied, equally formal.

Neither moved.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Anna! Emergency cart in the hallway! Nurse_Anna: On it! Won_NOT_involved: Please don't crash any carts Rich_Granny_Han: Just a small crash Won_NOT_involved: That's still property damage Rich_Granny_Han: That's still romance

The sudden crash from the hallway made them jump apart. Y/N hurried out, professionalism back in place.

Jeonghan watched her go, then turned to find everyone staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Granny smiled innocently. "You just look happy this morning."

"It was the coffee."

"Sure it was, dear. Sure it was."

As Jeonghan left to change, Granny turned to her squad:

"Phase 2 complete. Now, about that charity gala next week..."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Meeting in 10 minutes. We have a gala to plan Boo_CEO: Will there be drama?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, there will be CHAOS Won_NOT_involved: Why do I feel scared Nurse_Anna: Because you should be 😘 Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, you haven't seen anything yet Won_NOT_involved: ...can I transfer departments now? Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now, about those formal invitations...

- Y/N stared at her desk in growing concern. Over the past week, a pattern had emerged:

Monday's coffee: "For admitting medical school doesn't teach everything - JH" Tuesday's coffee: "For finally calling me Jeonghan (in your sleep) - JH" Wednesday's coffee: "For pretending you don't smile at my notes - JH" Thursday's coffee: "Because your coffee machine is beneath you - JH" Today's coffee: "Because it's becoming a habit - JH"

She definitely didn't keep all the notes. And she absolutely wasn't smiling.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: WEEK RECAP:

Daily coffee delivery ✓

She keeps all notes ✓

Stopped throwing them away ✓

Actually smiles now ✓ 

Boo_CEO: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Rich_Granny_Han: Time to escalate Won_NOT_involved: What's left to escalate?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, we're just getting started Won_NOT_involved: That's what I'm afraid of

Suite 520 had evolved over the week. Somehow, it now contained:

A premium coffee station (restocked daily)

Medical textbooks (some actually right-side up)

Two comfortable chairs (suspiciously close together)

Granny's "essential" medical monitoring equipment (mostly for show)

Anna's "work station" (definitely for spying)

Y/N entered for morning rounds to find Jeonghan already there, suit perfect despite the early hour.

"You're here early, Mr. Han."

"We're back to Mr. Han? After I brought you coffee all week?"

"Medical ethics don't run on caffeine, Mr. Han."

"Are you sure? Because your smile says otherwise, Doctor."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The TENSION Boo_CEO: He emphasized 'Doctor' I'M SCREAMING Nurse_Anna: Should I interrupt with vitals?? Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, let them flirt Won_NOT_involved: This is a hospital Rich_Granny_Han: This is Suite 520 Won_NOT_involved: That's not a real distinction Rich_Granny_Han: Tell that to my platinum card

"Children," Granny called out, "if you're done with your coffee courtship—"

"Medical discussion," Y/N corrected quickly.

"Professional interaction," Jeonghan said simultaneously.

"—perhaps we could discuss my discharge?"

Both turned to her so fast they got whiplash.

"Discharge?" Y/N frowned.

"Halmoni, no," Jeonghan started.

"Well," Granny smiled innocently, "unless you think I need more... observation?"

The way she said 'observation' made it clear she wasn't talking about medical monitoring.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE POWER MOVE Nurse_Anna: Halmoni playing 4D chess!! Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn children Won_NOT_involved: This is manipulation Rich_Granny_Han: This is ROMANCE Won_NOT_involved: Same thing in this family Rich_Granny_Han: Now you're getting it!

"Your latest tests..." Y/N began professionally.

"Show you need more monitoring," Jeonghan finished.

They stared at each other, surprised by the agreement.

"Oh?" Granny's eyes twinkled. "Both of you think so?"

"Medically speaking," Y/N clarified.

"From a family perspective," Jeonghan added.

"And it has nothing to do with morning coffee?"

"Halmoni!" they protested simultaneously.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're in sync!! Boo_CEO: SOULMATES BEHAVIOR Nurse_Anna: Even their denial is synchronized! Won_NOT_involved: This is getting out of hand Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, this is getting interesting Won_NOT_involved: Those aren't mutually exclusive Rich_Granny_Han: Shush and help me plan the gala seating

The tension was broken by Seungkwan bursting in, designer suit somehow even more expensive than Jeonghan's.

"Emergency!" he announced dramatically.

"Medical?" Y/N reached for her pager.

"Fashion!" Seungkwan held up a tablet. "Halmoni, the hospital charity gala needs your approval on—oh, am I interrupting something?"

His innocent tone fooled exactly no one.

"The charity gala?" Y/N blinked.

"Oh yes," Granny perked up. "Doctor, you'll be attending of course? As my physician?"

"I don't usually—"

"And Jeonghan needs a plus-one—"

"Halmoni!"

"—for medical supervision, of course."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: PHASE GALA: INITIATED Boo_CEO: I already called the designers! Nurse_Anna: Need volunteers for the medical team?? Won_NOT_involved: We're not all going Rich_Granny_Han: Check your email dear Won_NOT_involved: ...we're all going Nurse_Anna: YAY BABE! We can coordinate! Won_NOT_involved: I want a new job Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now about those table arrangements...

"I couldn't possibly—" Y/N started.

"It would be unprofessional—" Jeonghan began.

"Perfect!" Granny clapped. "Seungkwan, mark them down as attending."

"Already done, Halmoni!"

"I didn't agree—" Y/N protested.

"My heart would feel so much better knowing my doctor is there," Granny clutched her chest dramatically.

The monitor, naturally, beeped.

"This is manipulation," Jeonghan noted.

"Learned from the best, dear."

Y/N looked at her patient (scheming), her monitor (suspicious), and her growing headache (definitely real).

"One hour," she conceded. "For medical supervision only."

"Of course," Granny smiled sweetly. "Seungkwan, call the designers. The doctor needs a gown."

"Already on it!"

"Wait, what—"

But Seungkwan was already speed-dialing, Granny was looking triumphant, and Jeonghan...

Jeonghan was looking at her like he wouldn't mind being supervised. Medically speaking, of course.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Operation Gala: Phase 1 complete Boo_CEO: Designers on standby! Nurse_Anna: Medical team assembled! Won_NOT_involved: This is excessive Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, this is just the beginning Won_NOT_involved: That's what I'm afraid of Rich_Granny_Han: Don't worry, it gets worse Won_NOT_involved: How is that reassuring?? Rich_Granny_Han: It's not. Now, about those dance lessons...

Suite 520 had transformed into Gala Planning Headquarters. Somehow, between cardiac monitoring equipment and medical charts, there were now:

Three tablets showing designer collections

Fabric swatches spread across medical equipment

Seating charts mixed with ECG readings

Event planners trying to look like medical consultants

And Granny, orchestrating chaos from her hospital bed

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Status report!

Venue: Hospital Grand Hall

Theme: "Hearts of Gold" (get it? 😉)

Seating: Y/N next to Jeonghan (medical purposes)

Dance floor: Strategically lit 

Boo_CEO: The THEME I'M DYING Nurse_Anna: Should we coordinate the medical team's outfits?? Won_NOT_involved: We're supposed to be working Rich_Granny_Han: This IS work. Love work.

Y/N entered for afternoon rounds to find what looked like a fashion magazine explosion.

"Mrs. Han, this isn't good for your recovery—"

"Nonsense," Granny waved a fabric swatch. "Doctor, which shade of blue brings out Jeonghan's eyes?"

"I... what?"

"For medical coordination purposes, of course."

From behind his laptop, Jeonghan choked on his coffee.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: SHE'S BLUSHING Nurse_Anna: AND HE'S CHOKING Rich_Granny_Han: Young love is so clumsy Won_NOT_involved: This is a medical facility Rich_Granny_Han: This is a love facility Won_NOT_involved: That's not a thing Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520

"Halmoni," Jeonghan tried, "perhaps the doctor doesn't want to—"

"Navy," Y/N said suddenly, then looked mortified.

"What?"

"Navy blue. For medical... contrast purposes."

Jeonghan's slow smile should be illegal in a hospital setting.

"Noted," Granny's eyes sparkled. "Seungkwan! Call the designer!"

"Already texting!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: SHE PICKED HIS COLOR Boo_CEO: VOLUNTARILY Nurse_Anna: THE DEVELOPMENT Won_NOT_involved: It's just a color Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I miss regular patients Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now about the dance playlist...

Later that day, Y/N returned to find Jeonghan arguing with event planners while wearing... navy blue.

"It's for a medical opinion," he said quickly.

"I didn't ask."

"You're wondering."

"I'm wondering about your grandmother's blood pressure with all this excitement."

"Liar. You're wondering how accurate your color assessment was."

She checked Granny's monitors instead of answering. Or looking at how right she'd been about the navy blue.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: HE CHANGED SUITS FOR HER Boo_CEO: THE DEDICATION Nurse_Anna: She kept stealing glances!! Won_NOT_involved: I saw nothing Rich_Granny_Han: The security cameras saw everything Won_NOT_involved: ...I may have footage Nurse_Anna: BABE YOU'RE ONE OF US NOW Won_NOT_involved: I hate everything except you Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now help me plan the "medical emergency" during the slow dance

"Doctor," Granny called out sweetly, "about the gala's medical supervision..."

"One hour," Y/N reminded firmly.

"Of course. Jeonghan will pick you up at 7."

"That's not necessary—"

"For medical transport," Granny added innocently.

"I can drive—"

"My heart would feel better knowing you arrive safely."

The monitor beeped right on cue.

"Halmoni," Jeonghan sighed, but he was smiling.

"Fine," Y/N conceded. "For medical purposes."

"Of course," Granny beamed. "Seungkwan! Call the car service!"

"Already done!"

"How are you already—never mind."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Car arrangements: Complete ✓

Premium vehicle

Mood lighting

"Accidental" traffic delays 

Boo_CEO: EVIL GENIUS HALMONI Nurse_Anna: The POWER Won_NOT_involved: This is getting elaborate Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, wait for the gala Won_NOT_involved: I'm scared Rich_Granny_Han: You should be. Anna dear, about those dance floor spotlights...

As Y/N left for her rounds, she found a new coffee on the nurses' station.

The note read: "Navy blue does bring out my eyes. Good medical observation. - JH"

She didn't smile.

(The security footage Wonwoo definitely wasn't collecting said otherwise.)

- Two months after Code: Heart Doctor began, Suite 520 was in organized chaos:

Discharge papers waiting for signatures

Gift baskets from the entire hospital staff

Granny's designer luggage (more than a small hotel's worth)

The infamous coffee machine

And a certain cardiologist avoiding a certain CFO

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: FINAL MISSION STATUS:

Two months of schemes ✓

One charity gala success ✓

Multiple "emergencies" ✓

Countless coffee dates ✓

One almost kiss ✓

BUT STILL NO CONFESSION 

Boo_CEO: HOW ARE THEY SO STUBBORN Nurse_Anna: Even the cafeteria's betting pool is frustrated Won_NOT_involved: Maybe let them figure it out naturally? Rich_Granny_Han: Absolutely not Won_NOT_involved: Why did I even suggest that Rich_Granny_Han: Time for the final play

Y/N stood at the nurses' station, pretending to review charts while actually hiding. The past two months had been... complicated.

After the gala (which definitely didn't end with an almost-kiss during Granny's conveniently timed "emergency"), things had gotten awkward.

Sweet, terrible, coffee-filled awkward.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: She's HIDING Boo_CEO: Our confident doctor? HIDING? Rich_Granny_Han: Love makes fools of us all Won_NOT_involved: Or maybe this whole scheme was too much Rich_Granny_Han: No such thing Won_NOT_involved: Why did I marry into this chaos Nurse_Anna: Because you love me 😘 Won_NOT_involved: TRUE. TRUEST FORM. Rich_Granny_Han: We get it, you love Anna

The suite's door opened, revealing Jeonghan in what had to be his most expensive suit yet. Navy blue, because of course it was.

"Doctor."

"Mr. Han."

"We're back to that?"

"We never left it."

(They both knew that was a lie. Somewhere between late-night coffee and fake emergencies, "Jeonghan" had slipped out more than once.)

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: IMPLEMENT FINAL PHASE Boo_CEO: But what about the backup plan?? Rich_Granny_Han: This IS the backup plan Nurse_Anna: What about backup backup?? Rich_Granny_Han: Trust your commander Won_NOT_involved: Should I be concerned? Rich_Granny_Han: Always, dear. Always.

"Children," Granny called from her bed, "come here please."

They approached cautiously. Two months had taught them to fear that innocent tone.

"Since I'm being discharged—"

"About that," Y/N started.

"Your readings—" Jeonghan began.

"Oh hush," Granny waved them off. "We all know I'm fine. Have been for weeks."

They stared at her.

"You..." Y/N processed this. "You've been faking?"

"Not faking, dear. Strategizing."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE CONFESSION Nurse_Anna: Finally exposing the plot!! Won_NOT_involved: This feels illegal somehow Rich_Granny_Han: Love knows no laws Won_NOT_involved: That's not how legality works Rich_Granny_Han: That's how Suite 520 works

"All those emergencies..." Jeonghan realized.

"The 3 AM calls..." Y/N added.

"The coffee accidents..."

"The gala emergency..."

"The almost—" they both stopped, blushing.

"Yes, yes," Granny smiled. "All part of the plan. Operation Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024."

"The WHAT."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Dropping the bomb! Boo_CEO: THE CHAOS Nurse_Anna: Should we run?? Won_NOT_involved: I'm already in the cafeteria Rich_Granny_Han: Cowards. Watch the master work

"Halmoni," Jeonghan looked pained. "You've been scheming this whole time?"

"Of course, dear. You think cardiac monitors just happen to beep during romantic moments?"

"The coffee spills..." Y/N remembered.

"Anna has excellent timing."

"The gala emergency..."

"Seungkwan's dramatic skills are underappreciated."

"The security footage..."

"Wonwoo pretends to resist, but he's got quite the collection."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THEY'RE BOTH SO RED Nurse_Anna: The realization!! Won_NOT_involved: Should we call security? Rich_Granny_Han: For what? True love? Won_NOT_involved: For imminent chaos Rich_Granny_Han: That's just how romance works dear

"So everything was fake?" Y/N asked quietly.

"Not everything," Jeonghan said quickly.

They looked at each other.

"The coffee wasn't fake," he continued.

"The medical discussions weren't fake."

"The almost-kiss wasn't fake."

"The feelings weren't fake."

Granny beamed. "Finally!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: MISSION SUCCESS Boo_CEO: I'M CRYING Nurse_Anna: WE DID IT Won_NOT_involved: Can we work normally now? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey no Rich_Granny_Han: Now we plan the wedding Won_NOT_involved: ...I want a transfer Rich_Granny_Han: Denied.

"You're ridiculous," Y/N told Jeonghan, but she was smiling.

"You love it," he replied, then froze. "I mean—"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I do."

"Oh thank god," Granny exclaimed. "Seungkwan! The champagne!"

"Already chilled!"

"Anna! The celebration decorations!"

"Ready to deploy!"

"Wonwoo! The documentation!"

"...fine."

As Suite 520 erupted into celebration, Y/N looked at Jeonghan.

"Your grandmother is terrifying."

"Wait till you see her wedding planning mode."

"Let's survive the first date first."

"Coffee tomorrow?"

"You've been bringing me coffee for two months."

"Yes, but now I can kiss you after."

From her bed, Granny smiled at her success. As Y/N and Jeonghan shared their first real kiss (finally!), the cardiac monitor beeped one last time.

This time, it was real.

Real love tends to do that to a heart. As Y/N and Jeonghan finally broke apart, the cardiac monitor beeped one last time.

"Your grandmother's monitor is still sensitive," Y/N murmured.

"Actually," Jeonghan smiled, "I think that one was real."

They turned to find Granny beaming at them, not even pretending to sleep anymore.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how exhausting it was to orchestrate all this?"

"Halmoni..."

"The timing of the beeps! The strategic coffee spills! Keeping Wonwoo from reporting us to hospital administration!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Mission accomplished, everyone! Boo_CEO: The greatest success story of 2024!! Nurse_Anna: I'm crying happy tears in the supply closet Won_NOT_involved: Can we work normally now? Rich_Granny_Han: Of course dear Won_NOT_involved: Really? Rich_Granny_Han: No 😘 Nurse_Anna: Babe you should know better Won_NOT_involved: I really should

"Well," Y/N picked up the discharge papers, trying to look professional despite her smile. "Since your condition has... miraculously improved, Mrs. Han—"

"Still Halmoni," Granny corrected.

"Halmoni," Y/N conceded, her smile growing. "You're free to go home."

"Wonderful! Jeonghan-ah, help me pack. Doctor, you'll join us for dinner to discuss my home care, won't you?"

"That would be—"

"If you say unprofessional, I'm canceling the discharge," Granny threatened sweetly.

Y/N looked at Jeonghan, who shrugged helplessly but couldn't stop smiling.

"Dinner would be lovely," she agreed.

As the suite erupted into celebration, with Seungkwan popping in with champagne and Anna wiping tears while pretending to check vitals one last time, Y/N felt Jeonghan's hand slip into hers.

"Coffee tomorrow?" he asked softly.

"You've been bringing me coffee for two months."

"Yes, but now I can kiss you after."

She squeezed his hand. "Looking forward to it."

From her bed, Granny Han watched her grandson and his cardiologist, her heart monitor beeping steadily with genuine joy. Sometimes, she thought, love just needs a little push.

Or in her case, two months of elaborate schemes, a charity gala, multiple fake emergencies, one almost-kiss, and an army of co-conspirators.

But who's counting?

[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If there's no interest, unfortunately, I will be abandoning the idea.

AO3 LINK ONE

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

PREVIEW

Strange noises surround you, and the brightness stings your eyes, but you want to wake up. In the distance, you hear a woman shouting for a nurse to come help. Is she a relative? A friend? You wish you knew. You feel connected to machines, surrounded by tubes, which nearly makes you gag. “Don’t pull on any of the wires attached to you. A nurse will be here to help you. My name is Lois Tryon. Detective Lois Tryon.” The woman speaks, trying to sound gentle but coming off as forced. She smells of cigarettes and alcohol. You remain silent, motionless. You don’t want to die—even though you don’t even know who you are.

"How long have I been here, Detective Tryon?" you murmur with some difficulty. There might be other important questions, but right now, this is the only one you need answered.

"About two years," she says, sounding almost excited about your recovery. A medical team enters your hospital room, adjusting and checking your body as if you were a doll—a sensation that’s starting to make you feel nauseous. The detective vanishes amidst the medical team as they check your reflexes, vital signs, temperature, and run several other clinical tests that will apparently tell them how you’ve woken up and if you’re truly all right.

Everything felt so secretive, with nurses whispering as if you couldn’t hear them. Two doctors were even debating whether they should tell you something or not. They decided to wait for Dr. Mayhew, whoever he might be. After a while, you drifted off to sleep, still waiting for them to explain what was going on. You had the same dream as before—a strikingly attractive man dressed as a priest making you kneel, asking for forgiveness for some unnamed sin. What stood out was how he always touched your face gently, saying that if you truly sought forgiveness for what you had done, you would have to accept your punishment. Then you would start taking off your clothes for him. The man dressed as a priest would then put you between his legs and spank you. He used to ask if you would be a good girl for him, and when you answered; he would whisper to you to take responsibility for what you did. And then you found yourself surrounded by blood and corpses, like a nightmare.

This time, you opened your eyes, letting out an almost desperate cry. There are fewer tubes attached to you, fewer wires surrounding you. There’s also a doctor—a different one from those who tended to you before. He’s lying back, asleep in a chair that doesn’t look at all comfortable. You wonder if it’s common for doctors to fall asleep beside their patients or if you’re getting special treatment due to the time you’ve been unconscious. The doctor is strikingly handsome. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his breathing deep and steady. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t wake at your cry.

You try to get up, nearly falling back at the sudden motion, but on the second attempt, you manage with some difficulty. Unsteady, you grab one of the spare blankets at the foot of your hospital bed and gently drape it over him. But there’s something peculiar—you feel as if you’ve seen him before. You move closer, laying your fingers lightly on the warm skin of his hand. His hair falls messily over his face, obscuring your view. Then you recognize him: the slightly wicked priest from your dreams, too alluring to be a saint, who meted out your penance. Yet something within you stirs, as if he holds a deeper meaning, something that seduces and captivates you. You touch the scar on his forehead, feeling a surge of electricity ripple through your body.

Then he grasps your hand, pulling you down onto his lap, where you land anyway. You’re silent for a moment, staring at him. “You used to brush my hair away from my face whenever you wanted to tell me something embarrassing,” he says, his voice close to yours, a sly smile playing on his lips as he settles you in his lap. “You’d say that if you focused on my scar, you wouldn’t feel so shy talking to me.” You’re surprised, but you don’t move. Something about being close to him feels familiar, leaving your body unresponsive in his presence.

“I imagine you don’t speak like that to all your patients, Doctor…” you say, trying to keep a serious tone as you study the face of the man whose lap you’re seated on. He chuckles, clearly amused. “Dr. Mayhew to some, Charlie to others. But to you, I’m husband.”

The words startle you, and you jump off his lap, steadying yourself on the hospital bed. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, bewildered. You’re married?

“I know this might be difficult to understand, but we are married. Don’t feel pressured to remember—it’s all right…” he murmurs, rising from the chair and moving toward you. His calm tone, almost as if he’s trying to make you feel safe, is surprisingly comforting. Your gaze falls to his hands as they reach out to you, but you instinctively move to the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry, but there must be some mistake. You can’t be married to me. Your face looks like it stepped right out of a magazine. I can barely believe you’re a doctor, let alone my husband. If this is a joke, know that it’s unfair to mock someone who doesn’t even know her own name,” you say, sounding slightly indignant. But honestly, what are the odds he’s really your husband?

Dr. Mayhew laughs, a sound both frustrated and enchanted. He runs a hand through his hair as if searching for patience. “It’s funny you’d say that. When we first met, you called me a ‘Ken wannabe.’ Later, you swore you hadn’t fallen for me because of my looks. When you remember that, I’ll be sure to remind you of it,” he says, his gaze deep and searching, as if his eyes are speaking more than his words.

“If you’re my husband, then tell me something only you would know about me!” you exclaim before he can come any closer. Your hands are trembling—whether from the intensity of his stare or some other reason, you’re not sure.

"You like to fuck when you're stressed, usually you prefer me to fuck you from behind but when you're pissed off, you bounce on me like there's no tomorrow. You don't like to feel pressure so I personally think you married me not because I'm handsome but because I let you be in charge. When I asked you to marry me, you broke up with me. You thought I was rushing things, and you couldn't stand the idea of not being able to give me children. You had two cats when you were younger and you named them 'Beelzebub' and 'Crowley' because your mother was very religious and you never liked her." He seems sincere, even if he's embarrassing you on purpose. It's obvious from the way he talks about your sex life, which you can't even confirm.

“Hold on, Doctor. We both know the sexual details were unnecessary. If I can’t remember other parts of my life, am I really going to remember what our… sex life was like?” you say, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands are beginning to sweat, but you don’t break eye contact with Dr. Mayhew.

“Actually, of all the details I’ve shared, those are the only ones we can test right now,” he says, closing in on you with surprising speed. His gaze is fixed on you, predatory and intent, as though you’re his prey. Strangely, you feel no embarrassment—just a stirring curiosity to uncover this for yourself.

“Do you often suggest casually sleeping with your patients? We are in your workplace, after all,” you say, feigning reprimand, though part of you wonders if he’s ever done this here before.

“I only suggest it to those who are married to me. And honestly,” he says, drawing closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper, “we’ve done far worse in both our workplaces.” He nods between himself and you, hinting at shared memories. There’s a tension in the air, something almost tangible. You swallow hard, unsure why his closeness doesn’t make you uncomfortable—but rather feels strangely familiar.

“You sound extremely dangerous saying things like that,” you murmur, holding Dr. Mayhew’s gaze as if daring him. For a moment, you think he might close the distance and kiss you—a thought that leaves you unsettled. How should you respond? You’re not even sure if you believe he’s really your husband.

“You were always one to take risks; has amnesia made you forget your true nature?” His fingers trace lightly along your arm, his gaze heavy with desire. He clearly wants you, yet that alone proves nothing. Whoever you once were, in this moment, you feel as though you’re standing bare before him.

"I hope I’m not interrupting the happy couple, but I heard Mrs. Mayhew was awake. I thought I’d finally come to speak with my most anticipated witness. I’ve waited two years for this conversation,” Detective Lois Tryon stands in the doorway of your hospital room, a victorious smile on her face. Dr. Mayhew doesn’t look pleased to see her there. They exchange a tense look, while you remain close to him, caught between their silent standoff.

“I don’t believe it’s appropriate to question my wife mere hours after she’s woken from a two-year coma,” Dr. Mayhew says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re aware of her memory issues, Detective Tryon. It would be courteous of you to give her a moment to adjust.” You’re taken aback but stay pressed against his well-defined frame, momentarily wondering if he’s a doctor or a bodybuilder.

“It’s no surprise you don’t think it’s appropriate for me to question your wife,” Detective Tryon replies, her tone laced with sharpness. “I would have to reveal to her that her husband is a primary suspect in a series of murders. That he’s so determined to evade justice he might’ve orchestrated the accident that left her comatose. And that he’s been having an affair with the lead investigator of this case—while she’s been unconscious.” Mayhew tenses, a flicker of fury crossing his face as he grips your waist tighter. You watch as his features contort slightly, weighing the situation. You can’t help but wonder if you’re witnessing an innocent man being falsely accused or a guilty man feeling the noose tighten. For some reason, this only heightens your intrigue in him.

[tinydefector]

Any chance we are going to get that Ratchet x Ambassador x Drift nsfw in the human effects series? 👀

First contact fifth kind - Human effects

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingerings, blowjob, sex, threesome

Word count: 2.9k

Human effects Masterlist

Prev

Next

Request are open read pinned post for rules.

__________________

It's only a cycle later when Ratchet runs I to the Ambassador, they had stopped by for a mandatory check up as normal. But one thing is for sure Ratchet can't take his optics off them after everything Drift has said. Not to mention he now knew where his old servos had been carted off too.

Ratchet cycled a ventilation, fixing the Ambassador with an intent stare as he scanned their vitals. Never before had this routine check-up held such.. layered intrigue.

"So tell me, Ambassador - enjoying your new accessories?" He inquired casually, fighting a smirk as he read over their hearts beats per minute.

They tense up slightly at the question, eyes shooting around. "Who told you?" They ask rather hushed and panicked, not really expecting to get caught out so soon over the pin-up photos. They don't see First Aid or Ambulon but doesn't mean they aren't around listening in.

Ratchet's optics glinted knowingly. "Let's just say a certain wandering conjunx of mine knows these old servos better than most," he replied with a chuckle. "No need for alarm - your secret's safe with us. In fact..."

Trailing off, he leaned down slightly dropping his vocalizer to an intimate growl. "Drift and I found your... artistic pursuits rather inspiring."

They sit there stunned, almost baffled at how bold Ratchet is in his flirtation. "Shit Ratchet im sorry, i didn't mean to cause any issues between you and Drift!" They stammer out in panic. Ratchet shakes his head with a smile. "Calm yourself ambassador, Let's just say Drift is as enthusiastic about said photos."

His digit tip their chin softly, ghosting feather-light over delicate flesh. "And while I try to maintain propriety in my official duties, shall we say your photoshoot piqued the interests of more... intimate nature."

Venting softly, his optics roamed the Ambassador's flustered face. "Although Drift brought up a proposition that I doubt he has the courage to ask you, and I'm less prone to the detection of rejection. So I'd like to ask if you would be interested in spending a night with us " His words are smooth with each letter as he inquires. "I fully understand if you're not interested but it never hurts To ask?"

They go quiet for a moment, thoughts rushing as they take in his proposal, Ratchet was rather bold but they had never known the medic to dance around anything. " I don't know if I can," they start. "I'm the human liaison for your people with earth with supplies not to mention your also CMO plus..." they trail off only for Ratchet to stop them.

"I understand your reservations, Ambassador," he soothed, "Such fraternisation could complicate matters, were it to become public knowledge."

His thumb stroked soothing circles on their thigh. Venting softly, his optics flickering back to their eyes. "I simply wished to extend the offer, given your... artistic interests seemed to mirror ours, i can promise that if you wish it to me a one time thing we understand you're not obligated to anything you do not wish. And as your medic I would rather know that you're at least safe, there are a rather large number of mechs on ship who are very hung up over you."

They bit their thinking, they were interested, hell Ratchet had been the first to actually ask and be sincere about it and understand the risk, he was most likely the best choice in case something went wrong. "If.. if I agree, it has to stay on the down low I can't have it getting back to my superiors" they reply softly. "I value my job here on the Lost Light with cordoning deals between different outpost and my team"

Ratchet inclined his helm respectfully. "Your position and duties, of course, take priority. You have my word - whatever transpires between us will remain strictly confidential. If I may. Would it help if I sent Drift a comm to let him know so we can keep it a confidential matter?" It earns him a nod from them.

//The Ambassador has agreed to our proposition, though with utmost discretion//

Drift's reply came swift which had Ratchet nearly chuckling. //understood, no discussion no different to Rodimus’ visits// he replies.

"Would after your shift suit you? We would make certain your visit is kept on the down low, and see you safely back with no one the wiser." It was a rather warm invitation, the promise of easing tension

"You make a rather tempting offer Ratchet, you do understand there's probably a lot of stuff you won't be able to do with me due to our size and differences?" They inquire, making sure he knew just what he was getting into. Ratchet chuckled softly. " Drift and I are no strangers to creative interfacing, whatever the partner, we are happy to take things at your pace so that you feel comfortable."

He stroked their shoulder reassuringly. "But your limits and comfort take priority. We'll set rules later. Join us after your shift, just knock and one of us will answer."

"I'll see you later then" they state softly finishing up their appointment and walk off rather jittery, not knowing if they would be able to handle the rest of their shift after the feeling of Ratchet’s digits against their body. They give him a quick glance before disappearing down the halls.

//You are a terrible influence, you know,// Ratchet shoots back at Drift which earns him another chipped comm message.

//What can I say? I know your appetites as well as my own, my love. And don't think you're so innocent party sirens// it earns a small chuckle from Ratchet and he busies himself with reading the ambassadors charts and taking down the information.

It's much later that they had planned when they found themself standing outside Ratchet and Drift's Hab suite, nervously looking up and down the hall, they felt like a teenager about to get in trouble sneaking out. Eventually they work up the courage to knock quickly.

Ratchet opens the door quickly ushering them in. “Hello my dear.” he said softly

"Hi," they state nervously. Looking around again to make sure no one was around as they quickly darted into the room. Drift looks up with a smile as he sees them, "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable," Ratchet encouraged. "Can I offer you anything - energon?" Drift slipped close.

"I'd say a strong alcohol drink but I doubt either of you have anything like that here" they state while moving into the hab, eyes flicking around to see the different stuff around the place, it felt homey compared to what they were expecting. "Could you help me up so I can sit?" Drift stooped, gathering their considerably smaller form into his arms with utmost care. Rising slowly, Drift turned and took a seated position on the berth's edge, settling the Ambassador comfortably down.

Beside them, Ratchet grumbles softly to himself “forgive me i completely forgot” he states, he knew he was forgetting something. “No, no it's all good” they call out quickly while trying to make it not a big deal.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm making this Awkward. I don't really know where to start, I don't know if you do things differently compared to humans so I don't really know what to do" they finally admit. And it makes both Drift and Ratchet look at each other for a moment.

"Then allow us to guide you," Drift rumbled reassuringly. Gently cupping their face in his servo, he met their eyes with caring intent. "A kiss requires no special skills" he leaned closer, aiming not to overwhelm as he soft pressed his metallic lips to theirs. Pulling back slightly after a moment, he searched their expression for any sign of discomfort.

They lean into the kiss, the tension in their body fading as their lips move against Drift's. When they pull away they look half dazed from the kiss. "Um woah, I wasn't expecting that" they nearly whisper. Drift let out a low, pleased hum. His optics glowed softly in the low lighting.

"A good kiss often has that effect," he chuckled warmly. Beside them, Ratchet let out an approving hum, servos tracing teasing patterns against them The berth seemed to dip slightly as the two mech made themself comfortable. They shutter softly as the two sets of servos move against their body pressing them back on the berth. “Let us know if you want to stop at any point, just say the word” Ratchet purred as he moves closer.

"I will. I didn't think Cybertronians kissed" they hummed softly. "Mm, kissing is not a typical Cybertronian act, but we do tend to adopt practices from other species" Drift admitted, servo gliding soothing presses down their stomach. Ratchet teasingly brushes along their inner arms. "And it seems we've discovered a particularly enjoyable adaptation."

They gasp softly as Ratchet tilts their chin up and gently pulls them into a kiss, a soft moan leaves them as Drift presses a kiss to the side of their throat. Their hands shooting up to Ratchet's face plate tracing along the ridges. Ratchet purred softly in approval as they melted into his kiss.

Drift vented hot against their skin, satisfied at drawing such sweet sound from their lips He crooned soft encouragement, servos gliding light as breath across heated skin. Pulling back slowly, Ratchet met their eyes with the kind of heat that forged stars. "What lovely music you make."

His digits found divots of their hips, rubbing soft circles into them. Drift nibbled teasing kisses along their shoulder as he began removing their clothing. They slowly melt into each touch, little whines leaving them. The feeling of the two sets of servos against their body. "Mm didn't take either of you for being into this" they try to joke to not feel as flustered.

Ratchet huffed a laugh against their neck as he pressed a kiss to it. "When one lives as long as we, you develop a lot of interests sweetpark."

"Few would guess how creative we get, we tend to keep it on the downl ow," the former monk mused silkily against their ear.

His servo caressed down their flank as he slowly discarded their pants, thumb tracing the seam between thigh and hip. Drift nibbled their jaw, playfully making sure not to hurt them.

Another gasp leaves them as cold servos trace warm skin as Drift traces their body. They melt into each touch. "Mmm" they whine softly, letting the two mechs admire and inspect their frame.

Ratchet crooned approval, his own servos following the curves and lines of their upper body. "So beautiful," the medic praised against parted lips, Ratchet let out a keenly interested noise at their sprawled beauty, the Ambassador's scents flooded his sensor net. His optics roved hungrily over bared flesh, mapping each dip and swell.

Drift's fans whirred loudly beside him. "Fascinating," Ratchet purred, digits dipping to explore secret crevices and sensitive areas with clinical precision. He met his conjunx's hungry optics, understanding all too well.

A loud moan leaves them as their back arches, when Ratchet's digits brush against their sex, they pressing back against the digits "fuck... that feels good, Ratchet, Drift " they call out.

Ratchet hums in delight, servo moving further down for a moment. His optics flicker for a moment before he lifts his servos for Drift. The other Cybertronian without even needing to be asked slowly takes Ratchet's digits into his mouth, slowly lathering them with lubricant, pulling back after running his glossa over them.

A squeal nearly leaves the Ambassador when Ratchet presses them back between their thighs running back down to their sex. "Exquisite," Drift praised, moving down to suck a mark into their side. Ratchet rumbled again, optics blown wide and fiery as he stroked them open expertly. "Our species may share more in common that anticipated, it seems."

He pressed his digit very slowly into them. Stilling for a moment before thrusting with curling precision. “Is this alright, nothing hurts?” he inquired, still being wary of the differences.

“Yes, feels really good” they stutter, eyes falling closed as their hand moves to guild Ratchet. It isn't long before ratchet presses a second into them, scissoring and opening them up.

"Would you like more?" he purred against their panting mouth. "Mmmm yes, please!" They nearly beg, with each thrust of Ratchet's digits, hips moving to grind back against them. "Fuck... Ratchet " they whine.

Drift lets out a keen growl, his plating swelling as his spike pressurised under his panel, finally giving way. One of his servos wraps around his spike as he quickly strokes it, moaning loudly as he pleasures himself to the view in front of him.

Ratchet groaned near incoherent static, as he withdrew his soaked digits, enjoying their bereft mewl. “Drift” he calls moving back enough to pull his conjunx into a kiss. The Ambassador sits up to watch the two as Ratchet runs his glossa down Drift's frame as he drops to his knee plating. Grabbing Drift's Hips and pulling him forward until his intake is wrapped around Drift's spike.

Drift's knee joints nearly buckle as he grabs Ratchet's helm. The medic curved one servo around its hot girth as both his mouth and servo moved in Sync. He pulls back after a moment, wiping his mouth before looking at the Ambassador. “Is this still alright?” He asked, earning an eager nod from them.

Drift moves stationing himself on the berth between their legs, spike resting against their stomach. “You'll let us know if it hurts or feels off, we don't want to hurt you” Drift checks again. “I'll let you know if it gets too much” they confirm.

They arch and moan out loudly as Drift slowly presses into them, hips shuttering and bucking as the ex con holds them still trying to take it slow. “Fuck! Drift!” They whine, trying desperately to grind back against him. “Just wait sweetspark” he coos softly as Ratchet slowly slinks around Drift.

His servos grip Drift's hips as his spike presses into Drift's valve, the moment the have all adjusted Ratchet begins softly thrusting, in turn making drift grind into the Ambassador. Sounds of strained venting and rhythmic pistoning hydraulics filled the room. Drift held them close, murmuring quiet praises and encouragement as Ratchet steadily plundered his valve from behind.

"Frag, you're so soft and tight?" Drift vented roughly almost whining to the Ambassador. Rolling his hips in subtle counterpoint to Ratchet's merciless pace. Ratchet nipped a warning at his neck cables, grinning fiercely.

It doesn't take long for the ambassador to orgasm, the sheer size and texture of drift has their body shuttering and clenching on drifts spike as they cry out loudly, bucking and keening as they grab onto anything they can. Drift’s sensory net sang with the echoes of their mingled ecstasy. He's quick to pull away before his overload hits, sagging on the berth above them as his fans blast air as his frame tries to cool down.

Above, Ratchet rolled his shoulder wheels in a sated stretch before glancing down at their joined frames. His field swept with warm waves of affection and approval at the sight of his conjunx so blissed out. His optics shift to the Ambassador laying there panting.

"Does anything hurt, dizziness, nausea" Ratchet asked, vocalizer hoarse but tone mellow. As the two mechs slowly untangle themselves from each other and the ambassador, Ratchet is quick to fetch water for them while Drift begins pulling up a blanket for the ambassador. "I'm alright, Where did you get this?" They ask with a sly smile.

Ratchet vented a soft chuckle as he passed them the water. "always stock essential supplies," he told them warmly. Catching Drift's amused field, he quipped "Though this one seems to collect oddities even I've never seen."

Drift huffed a mock grumble, tucking a warm sheet around the ambassador's frame with utmost care. "Keeps things interesting, at least. Can't fault a mech for having hobbies." Drift mumbles as he crawls onto the berth beside the ambassador, lightly tracing their face.

Ratchet joins them on the broad berth, settling with relaxed poise. His servo found Drift's, squeezing firmly. The Ambassador pulls the blanket around them, gasping softly as Ratchet lifts them gently to settle them on his Chassis as Drift curls up against Ratchet's side.

"Thank you, this was different, not what I was expecting when experiencing my first ever fifth stage contact " they chuckle softly while snuggling in. Before a light bulb goes off in their head. "Holy shit am I the first human to umm have sexual intercourse with a Cybertronian?"

Ratchet's chassis rumbled a soft laugh beneath them. "Records of encounters between humans and our kind are scarce" he noted clinically. "It's quite possible you've made history tonight, Ambassador." Drift vented softly against their back. Soft whirs and clicks filled the berth as the two mech’s frames slowly reset. the ambassador drifted into a peaceful rest. Ratchet vented softly,"Never thought I'd see the orn a human slept in my berth," he mumbles lightly, Drift draping his frame halfway atop Ratchet's broader one. He brushed a thumb softly over the ambassador's face.

"Glad you brought 'em, all the same." Drift ex vented, relaxing into his partner's embrace. Ratchet squeezed back gently in wordless reply, as his systems slowly shut down into recharge.

_________________

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「 ✦ Closer ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Osamu Dazai

a/n: inspired by the morning voice post by @lovedazai (THIS), nin, and curiosity about how dazai would f#@% in the morning

genre: nasty and a sprinkle of fluff. (early) established relationship.

content warning: f!reader. MDNI! nasty ahead! some edging, begging, and praise. body worship + oral sex (m! and f! receiving for both. everyone wins!). religious imagery. you've been warned.

summary: in the morning, dazai likes to spoil you in bed ♡

just as you're about to get out of bed, you're stopped by soft lips against the nape of your neck, gently traveling across your skin as slender fingers grasp at your hips, coaxing you back into the futon and into a warm embrace. a quiet yawn into your shoulder is followed by a series of loving kisses up and down your spine – dazai's morning ritual as he tries to persuade you to stay in bed just a little longer, linger in his arms for just a minute or two more. in the mornings, he's always so resistant to getting up, so clingy and attached and so determined to not go into work. why waste his time laboring away at the ada when he can waste his life away in the arms of a beautiful woman instead?

"good morning, pretty girl." his voice is deeper, richer, in the morning, slightly raspy from a good sleep brought from being tangled in one another's bodies the night before. it's alluring, sexy, even, the way that he whispers in your ear and pulls you closer tight against his chest, as though he can't get enough as you, tracing circles into your naked back with his fingertips, etching his initials into your skin as if to remind you that your his and his alone, his lips lingering on your earlobe, his breath tickling your neck –

– and he pulls you closer, closer,

and closer.

it's never quite enough for him.

molding into your body and seeking your warmth, "won't you pay attention to me~?" he coos, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties teasingly. you feel him adjust your hips slightly, and at this angle you can feel him now – all of him. the heat that emanates from his skin, the firmness of his chest pressed against yours, and most of all, the hardness in his boxers as he pushes up against you – you can sense him just smirking once he knows that you can feel him there.

"i hope you know how much i like you," he whispers, and his voice is so tempting, almost as tempting as the way that his hands smooth over your stomach and the way that they grasp your waist. those hands fit so perfectly around your body, around your breasts, around your hips. you feel him squeeze you, sighing into your skin, and you melt into his touch. ever since dazai started dating you, it's been impossible for him to keep his hands off of you – touching you felt ritualistic, like going to church. it was like a necessary reminder that you're real, that you exist, that you're alive.

being able to bask in your light, to soak in your vitality –

it felt like breathing – like living, even.

as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder, tangling his fingers in your hair, you can feel his warm breath against your neck. "mm, your body feels so soft," he murmurs affectionately, continuing to pamper you with soft, gentle kisses. these innocent touches might satisfy him for now, but it's never long until he's impassioned to get on top of you – and that's exactly what he does, shifting his weight until you're underneath him, ensnared in his bandaged arms.

"do you want me?" he asks you teasingly, swiping his tongue across his lips. there's this wicked grin on his face as he bats his long, thick lashes at you knowingly – there are no secrets you can keep from dazai. "you always feel so soft, especially here," he whispers sweetly in your ear, lips lingering on your earlobe as he nudges your legs apart with his knee. you can feel warmth spread wildly across your skin as you grow wet from just his subtle touch. he brings his fingers between your legs only to trail them along the side of your thighs until you're writhing underneath him, then those same slender fingers are brushing 'accidentally' against the place you want him most. it's fleeting – a moment gone too soon, yet you find your hips impulsively moving, desperately trying to chase after him.

"you know, that was pretty perverted of you..." he says tauntingly, eyes glinting with amusement. you flush with embarrassment, but it's not long until you feel his fingers press against your entrance for real, this time tracing your folds through the cotton of your panties, deliberately dampening the fabric with your arousal. "so dirty, huh." he's eyeing you like a wolf as he lowers himself onto your body, soft brown bangs falling into his darkened eyes as he grins at you smugly.

kissing down your body, along your collarbone and the curve of your shoulders, his large hands grasp your breasts, massaging them and lavishing them with gentle kisses. you gasp as his tongue encircles around a nipple, as he sucks hickies into your chest, as he molds his hands around your shape. then, continuing down your body, he stops below your navel, glancing up at you – "you want me here?"

you nod, then you feel his hands on you once more, slowly peeling your panties down your legs.

dazai holds you're sacred, like you're the source of life itself, laying his head down in front of you as though there's some altar hidden between your thighs. for a moment, all you can feel is his warm breath against your skin – nothing more.

then, everything at once –

– that heavenly feeling of his tongue, licking you so agonizingly slowly, so sweetly, so sinfully. you feel him ease a finger inside of you, then two, his delicate, beautiful fingers reaching somewhere you could never. then, pulling you flush against his mouth, he laps at you thirstily, tongue swirling around your clit until you're moaning out his name, until you're melting on his saliva. "dazai–" you hardly manage to stammer out, panting helplessly. "i want you... please... i want you in my mouth, too..."

you get on your knees as though to worship him. shuffling his boxers down his legs, you're desperate to just to touch him now – to finally taste him on your tongue. you feel its warmth against your skin as you press his length against your face, smear the precum that's pearling from the tip against your cheek, licking up the shaft seductively as you gaze up at him with doe eyes that are intent on having him watch you... but of course, he's going to watch you – focusing on your every movement with these half-lidded eyes that are clouded over with sheer desire and wanton lust. his hands tangle in your hair as he bites back a soft moan, enamored by the way you're rubbing his dick all over your sweet, innocent face. you can just feel him throbbing in your hands. how he aches for more, for you to put him in your mouth and devour him completely.

you stroke him gently, placing loving kisses on that pretty tip of his before sloppily wrapping your lips around him. saliva drips from your mouth, dribbles down your chin as you try to deepthroat him, and you gag as you feel the head hit the back of your throat. "that's it," he sighs pleasurably, throwing his head back. "god, you're good to me."

determined to finish him, you pick up the pace before you can choke on him – but he pulls himself out of your mouth suddenly with a soft laugh, resigning to stroking himself lazily with one hand. "fuck," you hear him curse under his breath, exasperated. "i'm already close.” he grins up at you playfully, then reaches across the bedside table for a condom, rolling it down his length before mindlessly tossing the plastic wrapper aside. then, grabbing you by the wrists, he tugs you into his lap to straddle him. "–not until i have you first."

there's a renewed wickedness in this eyes now, like he's up to no good. you watch him in anticipation as he starts guiding the blunt head inside of you... only to slide it back out of your slick folds, slipping the tip in and out of you teasingly, listening to the deliciously wet sound of your squeezing around nothing at all. "don't.. tease...!" you plead, but it's no use. your thighs give out as you feel him slap it lightly against your slick, hips spasming at the sudden impact, however slight. then, he laughs a sort of devious laugh, delighting in the needy way you squirm for him.

"tell me how badly you want it first," he insists, his voice a low, erotic whisper in your ear, his tongue tracing a line along the lobe. you can feel just the tip prodding at your entrance once more. as you try to roll your hips forward to meet his, his firm hands keep you in place. you whine out his name – not good enough, it seems.

so, you cry out, beg pathetically – beg for more and more. dazai watches you intently, wonder gleaming in those deep brown eyes of his as you struggle to feel him, to touch him, your body coming alive for him –

as you urge him to pull you closer, closer,

and closer.

it's never quite enough for you.

then, when he just can't help himself anymore, he sinks you onto him and fills you completely, pressing his body against yours until you're tangled so perfectly in his arms.

being close to you like this – it's started to feel a bit more like breathing to him,

– like living, even.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[leejenowrld]

campus heartbreak series — hiatus

m. angst, fluff, smut

— enter the heartbreak campus, where love, sex, heartbreak, playboys, fake dating, tangled emotions, and unexpected connections unfold in intricate ways. join the rollercoaster of relationships, where navigating matters of the heart is as demanding as acing your exams. tread cautiously in this campus; heartbreak isn't just an experience—it's a vital part of the curriculum.

— comment to be added to the tag list for each update

☆ PLAYBOY ONE - completed

lee jeno x reader

strangers to lovers, opposite’s attract

— my first and last meet jeno, the campus heartbreaker and secret nerd. he only has eyes for you—a shy, introverted stranger who turns his life upside down. what begins as a reputation-defying connection evolves into intense, immediate love. unexpectedly, personal struggles and external issues threaten your bond, leaving once-confident jeno shattered and entangled in a tumultuous love story.

☆ PLAYBOY TWO - here — discontinued (will be rewritten eventually)

na jaemin x reader

situationship vibes

— ghostin’ (inspired by ariana grande)

after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

☆ PLAYBOY THREE - unwritten

mark lee x reader

best friends to lovers

— if i get my way you've loved your best friend mark lee forever, but when he dates someone you have tension with, it gets rocky. unable to handle unrequited feelings, you distance yourself. when mark's relationship ends, he turns to you, sparking fights, emotions, and a tumultuous journey. can you navigate this chaos or will it all come crashing down?

☆ PLAYBOY FOUR - unwritten

donghyuck x reader

enemies to lovers, bet au

— 10 things i hate about you your no-nonsense attitude makes you the last person anyone would want to date. however, your younger sister jieun can only date if you do. enter renjun, a new student, who, with the help of the mysterious donghyuck, attempts to win your heart and clear the path for jieun’s love life.

☆ PLAYBOY FIVE - unwritten

jung jaehyun x reader

fake dating, friends to lovers

— love letter when your secret love letters are accidentally sent to your past crushes, you agree to a fake relationship with jung jaehyun, one of the recipients. as you navigate the charade, unexpected feelings surface, complicating the arrangement.

— all are smut, fluff, angst. all fics will be one shots or two part series. however they can also be read as standalones. these are connected, all taking place in the same universe and campus, meaning you will see original characters and nct members making big appearances in each and every fic.

— read with caution, the fics will theme heavily around smut, playboys, drugs, drinking, mature content, explicit language, heavy angst, heavy smut, heavy fluff

[milquetoast27]

The Secret of Sherlock Holmes

GRANADA FANS. If you have not heard of this play, NOW IS THE TIME TO HEAR ABOUT IT. I'd been saving it for a rainy night and it was SOO good 😭😭Please allow me to elaborate.

[heads-up, there are no video recordings of it. I listened to the audio and followed along with the script. Not ideal, but still gave me a vivid image of what was happening on-stage.]

The nuance between screen and stage allows the actors to achieve different effects that are not possible with an on-screen adaptation. Characters do not turn to the camera and just tell you their innermost thoughts, but they can in a stageplay- and it's here that we really get to hear Brett and Hardwicke's ideas about Holmes and Watson- not much of it was unfamiliar as I'd read most of Brett's views in interviews, but it was really cool to get that confirmed in an official production that he worked on. Honestly, Brett had that feeling of "I can fix him" that I think exists in all of us Holmes fans, and totally went for it. The canon (and the Granada series) is rife with subtleties and 'show, don't tell', but it is honestly refreshing for once, to have such powerful emotion depicted dramatically and audaciously on a stage. It is all too often throughout the stories that Holmes and Watson are awfully reticent about their feelings. This play is an explosion of their private thoughts that leads to finally, thankfully, a wonderful reconciliation. I love it so much as it clearly advocates for open communication being a vital factor for a good friendship. There's a good reason for why that never happened in the canon; I think it has a lot to do with the shyness and reticence of the English, and I would not be surprised most particularly with Victorian men. But Holmes and Watson do still have their moments in the canon (e.g. 3GAR & FINA), and it's what makes them stand out so shockingly much in their time.

I appreciate that this play gives us viginettes of Holmes and Watson's life together all the way up to The Final Problem. It not only sets us up for the climax later, but also shows us specifically Brett's Holmes and Hardwicke's Watson. There were changes made from the original stories, and yet felt so wonderfully in-character and flowed really well through the actors. The play exclusively stars Brett and Hardwicke, and the purpose of redoing scenes from the canon, such as STUD, NAVA, or CHAS was to highlight the status in their relationship, for example Holmes's displeasure at Watson's marriage and subsequent loneliness- important scenes that communicate Holmes's dependence on Watson. These small glimpses also give us the much-needed humour for any balanced Holmes production! It not only communicates the warm and light moments that they shared, but also helps us get more invested in this particular pair on the stage, which is still vital, even if we're already attached to the characters.

The implications that arise from Brett's portrayal of Holmes is fascinating. He admits that he'd have been dead within two years without Watson, without the indispensible role he played in controlling his addiction and mental state. He admits of the lonely and awful childhood he shared with his brother. The fact that Holmes comes forward and tells us this himself suggests he is very psychologically aware of himself and how his mind works. He understands why he has addictions, the reasons for his barriers and difficulty with emotional vulnerability. Assuming Holmes is very interested in the criminal psyche, but also his own due to his eccentricities, it makes so much sense that he would psychoanalyse himself to this degree, but also be frustrated with how little he is able to move from his rigid mindset. This interpretation works so wonderfully for Brett's Holmes, and I am so glad for this portrayal he has given us. When it comes to canon Holmes, however, I feel that this is more likely to be unconscious. I can never shake how much of Brett is actually within his Holmes. While his comes close to the original, I still see them as separate people. Granada's adaptation tends to play up Holmes's melancholy/depression a little too far for me, like a far-away, mythical creature that can never be understood, because we never get much of an opportunity to see what he really feels (perhaps Eligible Bachelor or Master Blackmailer might come close). But I feel that almost defeats the character. To me, Holmes is flawed and troubled, but he is simply human. The Secret of Sherlock Holmes portrays this fact wonderfully, because all of those feelings are rising to the surface.

We move further into speculation, but I think Brett's Holmes has also a fairly healthy understanding of the difference between social constructs and necessities, which take more importance in a queer/neurodivergent reading of him. He understands that his upbringing was due to an "accepted convention", and we see time and again how Holmes disregards social conventions or constructs and does his own thing. It's why he gets frustrated at others for not understanding him, but also accepts that it will never come easily to people. That's why he's very lucky for Watson (and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade!) :)

Holmes's darker emotions, and Watson's fierce devotion are displayed most prominently throughout. When Watson comments on Holmes's childhood, Holmes lies about it, woeing internally over how much he conceals, to even someone as close to him as Watson. He privately shares his desire to be "found out", because sharing his feelings to Watson is too difficult. His friend takes his word for it, appreciative of the times Holmes is able to speak frankly about himself. Holmes wants to be open, and Watson wants to listen, but it's Holmes's barriers preventing it. This feeling and experience is so raw and human, and something I would imagine would resonate with many people.

The latter half of the play focuses primarily on Holmes's cocaine addiction. Pastiche writers really like that sore spot, huh. Watson's perceptiveness and powers of observation are on full force in this play. Watson can tell when Holmes is high (as a medical man, most likely), and even deduced that Holmes may still be living by Mycroft's body language. But when it came to Holmes's return from the Great Hiatus...

Something that canon Watson seems to completely forget is his anger towards Holmes. In the story, he is so star-struck and relieved that he barely considers any other feeling. Hardwicke does briefly touch on this in the Granada episode with "I thought I would be as trustworthy as your brother," but it really doesn't go further than that. In The Secret of Sherlock Holmes, Hardwicke goes FULL FORCE. This is what we needed!!! It was a powerful, hair-raising performance. When Holmes has clearly not understood the harm he has done, Watson leaves. Actually slams the door. And when he returns, he makes it very clear to Holmes why he is hurt. And yet, his devotion remains, for when Holmes starts explaining his creation of Moriarty, it takes a while before Watson is fully convinced. Watson is extremely compassionate and empathetic, yes, but he's also very grounded and level-headed, and he must draw the line somewhere. It doesn't take him long to forgive Holmes, but he knows his anger has a place in that room, and allows it to be. I appreciate that it's taken just as seriously as Holmes's troubles.

The only reason either Holmes or Watson are able to communicate so finely with each other- even through shouting and crying- is because of their emotional awareness. It's what makes their relationship work, because they are both aware of how much they mean to each other. When they move past the difficulty of sharing such feelings, their bond grows stronger.

[within-ur-intro-verse]

Favorite Complete Joongdok AU Fics

One-shots

Helpful Scenarios: What If by 16Wishes; 5,555 words, Rated: Teen; Modern AU - YJH & crew run an account where they post social experiment videos, dedicated to capturing and spreading human kindness and empathy towards one another. KDJ is their main subject.

In Continuation by 16Wishes; 8,888 words, Rated: Mature; Modern AU - how YJH met KDJ and conquered the gaming industry - completing life's checkpoints one at a time together.

a gaggle of sunfish bastards by Anonymous; 13,287 words, Rated: Teen; Hero/Villain AU - Top hero YJH volunteers to infiltrate the villain organization that was apparently attempting to clone him. What he finds instead is KDJ.

*slaps roof of car* this bad boy can fit so many misunderstandings in it by Anonymous; 7,605 words, Rated: Mature; Modern/SocMed/Mob AU - KDJ makes fanart for his webnovel based on his and his estranged friend YJH's appearances. When HSY wants permission to use his designs for a webcomic adaptation, he needs to reunite with YJH to give him a heads-up. YJH has become a Mob boss.

Manager Squid Supremacy by Arcanvas; 9,200 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/Idol/Social Media AU - Even after KDJ's 'resignation', his dear idols never fail to give him a headache. Only this time, it gets worse with his newfound fame on social media.

the siren's song by crispy_scoliosis; 1,960 words, Rated: Gen; Fantasy AU - Unseelie King YJH keeps hearing his people talk about hearing a siren singing a sad melody. He goes to investigate.

meow for me by dirtpellets; 5,222 words, Rated: Gen; Modern/Cat Cafe AU - KDJ becomes the object of affection for two local tsunderes: one human, one cat. A battle of great honor ensues.

how to stan my idol boyfriend by idlemurmurs; 2,349 words, Rated: Gen; Modern/Idol AU - The best way to show support to your idol boyfriend? Buying his merch.

home, an irrevocable condition by kero (tofuflower); 18,390 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/College AU - KDJ works at a maid cafe. He tries to keep his job a secret from YJH. Which works until it doesn't.

To Live With Dying by MatchaMochi; 3,416 words, Rated: Teen; Royalty/Isekai AU - YJH & KDJ live in 2 different worlds literally. They can only meet every time YJH dies.

Anemoia by pinkeque; 10,157 words, Rated: Teen; Modern AU - YJH (41st), a soldier, and KDJ, a war photographer, meet and grow closer during war times. Their story is told from the future from different points of view.

there's a thin line between boyfriend and boyfan by psychoguava; 7,322 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/Idol AU - Idol KDJ accidentally finds his bf's secret stash of his merch.

he said she said by quillifer; 3,288 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/College AU - Jihye has no idea why her taciturn advisor is so invested in the rumors about Professor Kim's love life.

the way to a man's heart by quillifer; 6,368 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/High School AU - YJH might anonymously make KDJ lunch three times a week, but he's not nursing a crush. Pinky promise.

All the Things My Hands Have Held by spoonks; 6,397 words, Rated: Teen; Modern/No Scenario AU - in a world where the apocalypse didn't start YJH, KDJ, & YMA are their own little family.

Given Life First by spoonks; 6,545 words, Rated: Gen; Modern with Magic AU - It wasn’t until a few months had passed that the public finally realized that the world was no longer how they remembered.

No More Snow in the Mountains by spoonks; 20,750 words, Rated: Teen; Fantasy AU - KDJ gets transported to a novel of a different genre.

tall tales and thick tails by zxrysky; 5,917 words, Rated: Teen; Magic AU - YJH needs a familiar. HSY sets up a summoning ritual to get him one. He ends up with a fox.

Multi-chapter/Series

vital signs by anemotions (realdefonge); Multi-chapter (10,702 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - Medical Intern KDJ keeps meeting CEO YJH during his monthly check-up.

love letters for your lips by Anonymous; Multi-chapter (29,771 words), Rated: Explicit; Modern AU - Chef Yoo tries to seduce an oblivious Kim Dokja using food, with little success.

Heart Signal AU by Anonymous; Series, Rated: Teen; Story 1 (Compete - 149,679 words) & Story 2 (Complete - 2,787 words); Modern AU - Long lost childhood friends reuniting on a dating show.

Surely It Was Fate by Anonymous; Multi-chapter (867,644 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - YJH and KDJ meet at the hospital as teens, than keep meeting over and over throughout their lives. Like it was fated.

@thereader has blocked you by AssassinOfChaos: Multi-chapter (14,364 words), Rated: Gen; Modern AU - Pro-Gamer YJH can't figure out why he's blocked by a fellow gamer on all socmed platforms.

The Story of Us by augustiamoon; Multi-chapter (73,514 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - Journalist KDJ is assigned to shadow Pro Gamer YJH for an article.

and i hope that one day, you will love yourself too. by dkdlel3; Multi-chapter (215,734 words), Rated: Teen; Modern/High School AU - YJH meets a boy with lifeless eyes and helps him live again.

He can't be real by erisky; Multi-chapter (4,853 words), Unrated; Modern AU - In which HSY has to give relationship advice to a dumbass who somehow doesn't understand why his boyfriend loves him.

in hindsight no one with an avatar that ugly could be an npc by exocara; Multi-chapter (Abandoned - 1,781 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - Pro gamer/streamer YJH realizes that the npc he's been fond of for years isn't what it seems.

killed those men by Frill; Multi-chapter (12,279 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - KDJ is good at covering up other people's murders.

picture you in my mind by glazing; Multi-chapter (11,266 words), Rated: Teen; Modern/Social Media fic - Pro-Gamer YJH and Book Youtuber KDJ face off in a FaceOff Poll and flirt with each on Twitter.

in each other's eyes, we are observers by idlemurmurs; Multi-chapter (14,193 words), Rated: Teen; Modern/College AU - Painter KDJ finds a muse in YJH.

not a round without romance by keijhi; Multi-chapter (4,027 words), Rated: Gen; Dating Sim AU - YJH & KDJ are NPCs in a dating sim.

from fact into fable by lilaclavenders; Series, Rated: Teen; Story 1 (8,232 words), Story 2 (7,892 words), Story 3 (3,069 words), Story 4 (11,425 words), Story 5 (6,169 words), Story 6 (4,041 words), Story 7 (3,738 words), & Story 8 (Ongoing); Modern AU - no scenarios au where everyone meets each other earlier in life

aren't we just inevitably going around in circles? by midothusiast; Multi-chapter (40,157 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - KDJ finds himself a brooding neighbor as he settles in his new apartment while being subjected with a proposal (in-game).

what is home? by ninidream; Multi-chapter (42,760 words), Rated: Teen; Instead of living in great affliction, KDJ decides to move out from his relatives. Coincidentally, YJH does, too.

Reincarnated As My Youngest Brother by NurikoEsuki; Modern/No Scenario AU - Multi-chapter (67,052 words), Rated: Teen; KDJ is murdered by his father and reincarnated into the body of his unborn brother.

and i hope that when you say forever, you want all the little things that come along with such a big promise by quillifer; Multi-chapter (19,979 words), Rated: Explicit; Modern AU - In which KDJ and YJH decide to start a family, documenting the frequently emotional and occasionally hilarious hijinks that ensue along the way.

prelude to a duet by rioseco; Multi-chapter (10,130 words), Rated: Gen; Modern/High School AU - KDJ has an encounter with the lead guitarist of his favorite local rock band.

Moving Out of the Closet by Sinnatious; Multi-chapter (21,411 words), Unrated; Modern AU - YJH meets his neighbour KDJ, who at first glance seems to be living in what he thought was the building's janitor's closet.

love in 144p by straycatmilkyway; Multi-chapter (12,085 words), Rated: Teen; Modern/Social Media AU - Popular Idol YJH becomes infatuated with down on his luck idol KDJ. KDJ has been YJH's fan for a decade. This is their developing romance through a socmed lens.

Filthy Acts at a Reasonable Price by threecrossings; Multi-chapter (5,065 words), Rated: Mature; Modern AU - KDJ had YJH meet his mom as his fake boyfriend to stop her from setting him up on dates.

[Rewrite] On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog by threecrossings; Multi-chapter (88,324 words), Rated: Teen; Modern AU - KDJ & YJH catfish each other in a MMORPG.

Mortifying Ordeal by WindsOfTime; Multi-chapter (85,978 words), Rated: Teen; Modern/Soulmate AU - Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are soulmates. KDJ has known for 20 years now. YJH thinks he doesn't have one because a "wall" is blocking his access to their bond.

To Kim Dokja by YukiSkyes; Multi-chapter (19,528 words), Rated: Gen; Modern/High School AU - KDJ gets a love letter in his locker. YJH is not happy.

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (15)

Chapter Fifteen: The Calvary Has Arrived

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: It all comes down to this final fight on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Chapter Warnings: Limited (Y/N), swearing, canon-typical violence, injury descriptions (blood, cuts, blacking out and bruising, loss of limbs, choking), needles and injections, Hemlock being extra cruel and evil, detailed torture and pain descriptions, mentions of self-sacrifice, begging and heavy angst, reader has a bit of a low moment, death, 'fixing' a death, I alter how the hangar fight goes ever so slightly, the Force and medical supplies suiting my needs, happy endings with nice emotions and light PDA

Word Count: 15.8K (Terribly sorry)

Author's notes: It's here! It's a rollercoaster! And Jen and Brad, we all know how it really went, okay? Happy reading!

Night had fallen by the time Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair had made more progress towards the base but even then, it was slow going. Patrols had increased and Wrecker’s injury was affecting him far more than he would like, they kept needing to stop to attend to it.

“Ow.” Wrecker complained as Hunter stuck him with another med patch.

“Did you think wrestling that creature was a good idea?” Crosshair snarked.

“At the time, yes.” Wrecker replied stubbornly.

“The base is five klicks away. Can you make it?” Hunter offered his hand out to Wrecker to get him back on his feet.

“Ha. Try and stop me.” Wrecker responded as he grasped Hunter’s hand.

Hunter waited a second to make sure the coast was clear before he led the way again.

--

Hemlock worked on drowning out the persistent blaring alarm as he walked down the corridor. His lack of success with you and Tech should not matter. He had enough to know how this squad operated. He still had everything under control. He stopped in front of the oncoming patrol group. “Guard the vault until the security lockdown is lifted.”

“Dr. Hemlock, one of the insurgents has been captured.” Scorch informed him.

Hemlock followed him down the side corridor towards the cells.

--

Hemlock opened the prison door to see a familiar face. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand as he entered the room. “Aligning yourself with insurgent clones…” He sighed, “Not a good look, Rampart.”

“You’re surprisingly calm, considering this secure and secret facility has been compromised.” Rampart said with a cool countenance. “I can’t imagine the Emperor will be pleased about that.”

Hemlock wasn’t about to let this failure of a man get under his skin. “All that time you spent on Kamino, yet you learned nothing about how clones think. I knew Clone Force 99 would eventually attempt to recover Omega and their Jedi. Their failure is inevitable.”

“The Jedi, I understand. But all this for the young clone too. I fail to see how she’s of value to you.”

Hemlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, this fool didn’t understand. “What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire, it makes me indispensable. Unlike yourself.” He waltzed out the cell.

--

“The longer this lockdown continues, the higher the chance you’ll be discovered.” Emerie advised cautiously as Echo kept working through the system. “We need to move. Now.”

“Why can’t I find any record of the vault Omega’s held in? Or this different cell you were talking about.”

“These databanks are heavily encrypted. The vault and the cell are several levels down. Hemlock keeps them under heavy guard, but I can get you inside.”

Echo unplugged and reattached his hand as he faced Emerie. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I was wrong about this place. And-” She inhaled sharply, “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

The sincere way in which she spoke allowed Echo to view her in a new light. He gave her a respectful nod before he donned his trooper helmet and signalled for her to lead the way.

--

“You want us to do what?” Eva double checked as Omega finished telling them the plan.

“It’s how we’re going to escape.” Omega reminded them.

“But it sounds dangerous.” Sami said worriedly.

“My squad I told you about? They’re here. If we can get out of this room and find them, we can all go home.”

“What about your friend?” Jax asked.

Omega had to push you to the back of her mind, as much as it pained her to do so. “My first objective is to get you all home first.”

Home. The word felt so foreign to them now.

“You really think this will work?” Eva asked softly.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Omega promised. “I’ve been trained for this. Let’s get into position.”

Doing as she said, each of the kids took up a seat at a different table to wait on Sami’s signal that they were clear to start.

Sami looked up at the window to see Dr. Scalder step away which was when she tapped her puzzle piece on the table.

Omega readied her tool as Jax and Eva approached the supervising droid.

“My game is broken.” Eva held the device out to the droid. “Can you fix it?”

Omega snuck up behind the droid and stabbed the droid’s power centre. The three of them manoeuvred it into her cell where she could get to work on reprograming it.

Eva and Jax kept an eye out for Sami’s signal and Eva saw the Pantoran knock over the stack of pieces which only meant one thing, “Dr. Scalder is on her way. Hurry.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Jax asked as Omega seemed no closer to getting whatever it was that she needed to do to the droid completed.

“Yes, but not on this type of droid.” Omega hissed as she hurriedly worked on the wires in the droid’s main control panel.

--

Dr. Scalder entered the lab and asked the specimen still at the table, “Where are the others?”

Sami stayed silent and held Bayrn close to her.

“Sp-39, I asked you a question.”

Sami pointed behind Dr. Scalder as she saw the three of them approaching.

“We w-were with the droid.” Eva said quietly, her head hanging in automatic submission.

Dr. Scalder sighed in exasperation. “Another scan wasn’t scheduled. Tell me what you were really doing.”

“Eva’s telling the truth.” Omega said calmy as the droid drew closer to Dr. Scalder. “We were with the droid.”

“Dr. Karr has been too lenient with you all. Return to your alcoves. A few days of isolation should remind you-” That was all she got to say before a needle pierced her skin and she fell unconscious.

“It worked.” Sammi gasped as Bayrn released a few happy babbles.

“You did great.” Omega praised. “Now, we have to hurry. Droid, guard the door. Sami, prep the sling for Bayrn.”

Omega dashed into her room and used her tool to get under the first panel before she could tear the rest down. Turning to the others and seeing that Bayrn was now secure on Jax’s back and Eva had her doll strapped to her, Omega asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Jax confirmed.

Omega led them into the walls as part to of their escape was underway.

--

Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair paused again as another ship passed overhead.

“He’s gonna need another med patch.” Crosshair advised Hunter as he heard Wrecker’s strained grunt and the way he kept bringing his hand to his chest.

“We’re out.” Hunter said regrettably. Seeing Wrecker so hurt was a rare thing and it made the decision to carry on forward to Tantiss that bit harder.

Wrecker got to his feet with a groan. “I- I can make it.”

Hunter and Crosshair shared a concerned look, but they followed in their brother’s insistent footsteps through the jungle yet again.

--

Emerie led the way to the vault, with Echo walking a few paces behind.

Echo took in the corridor awash with red beams of light. “The kids who are held in here, where’d they come from?”

“The Empire used bounty hunters to retrieve them. Their genetic material was required for certain medical testing. I didn’t know about them until recently. I couldn’t help them. Until now.” Emerie paused by the vault door.

“Well, how do the two of them fit into all this?” Echo asked as he thought about you and Omega. “These kids, are they like-”

“I believe they could be, yes. As for Omega, she’s vital to Hemlock’s main objective for the Emperor. Project Necromancer.”

“And (Y/N)?”

“Hemlock wanted her blood for the same purposes as these children, but he also had ulterior motives that his focus has shifted more towards. He stopped taking her samples a while ago.”

“Shifted to what?” Echo asked warily.

Emerie swallowed, “He wants her to join his operatives. He thinks he can… condition her the same way.”

All of what Emerie said made his blood run cold. “Don’t like the sound of that.”

--

“Everybody good?” Omega asked to the group behind her as they all squeezed along the path she had found to their destination.

“Bayrn’s getting restless. H- He won’t be quiet for much longer.” Jax warned.

“Don’t worry. Things are about to get very loud anyways.” Omega stopped and peered through the slats in the wall and saw that the Zillo Beast and the number of personnel watching it was still the same as what it had been when she’d first came upon it. “Wait here.” She removed the grate and sneakily clambered out and made her way to where the controls that were keeping the beast contained were situated.

However, just as she reached it and was determining which buttons did what, she heard Bayrn’s wails echo throughout the chamber, and she knew she had to hurry. She sussed out what controls would get her what she needed and when the button lit up and she pulled on the lever, she heard the winning sound of the system powering down.

As the troopers rallied to try to contain the now very awake and active Zillo Beast, she darted back and hid with the others in the wall once more and had the joy of watching her plan come to fruition.

The chaos and destruction that unfolded was something she knew Wrecker would be proud of.

--

Emerie opened the main vault door but was taken aback by what greeted her. “What’s going on in here?” She inquired as Dr. Scalder was escorted past- groaning and clutching at her head. But what concerned her more was the intense conversation occurring between Dr. Hemlock and Scorch.

“Omega and the specimens have escaped.” Hemlock informed her, rage simmering in his voice. “Due to Dr. Scalder’s incompetence, they exploited a weak point in within the walls. She will be dealt with.”

Just as he said that there was an intense rumble that shook the entire facility and the lights flickered off and on again.

“The Zillo’s loose in the containment level.” Scorch revealed as the information came through his comms.

Whatever was happening had not been what he’d anticipated, clearly, he’d been wise to seek the information from you and Tech, it was just an unfortunate setback that he had been unable to acquire it but no matter, he was still in control. Now that he knew Omega was out, he could go back to what he already knew about their ways. “Shut down the reactor and send a diversion to secure the transport hangar.” Hemlock said sharply. “Check on SP-42, Dr. Karr. Then find Omega. Consider your fate now tied to hers.” He exited the vault.

“SP-42?” Echo murmured, already knowing and fearing the answer.

“Yes.” Emerie confirmed quietly as the other troopers departed. She waited until everyone else left before she spoke to Echo in a louder voice, “I don’t understand. Where could the children have gone?”

Echo may not have understood a lot about the goings on in Tantiss but there was one thing about this that he did know for certain. “Omega. She released the Zillo.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s exactly what I’d do.” He replied with a cheery sense of pride. “She’s splitting their numbers and creating a diversion. Come on.”

The two of them jogged out of the lab and Emerie led the way to you.

--

Echo followed Emerie as she took another sharp turn down a corridor and then opened a set of doors that led to another small, tight corridor with a door a few metres down.

Emerie rifled through one of the compartments in the walls outside the cell and took out your lightsaber which she clipped to her belt before she grabbed the proper medkit. Then, she grabbed a small set of keys from her person and cautiously opened the door, “(Y/N), it’s Emerie and Echo. We’re here to get you out.”

Echo’s mouth went dry as he saw you for the first time since Teth and he took in the dirtied and blood-stained uniform. It was definitely better that he found you like this instead of Hunter but even then, he was still having to steady his own breathing.

“Emerie, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but you’re supposed to stick me with the needle before you say things like that.” You croaked through dry and cracked lips as you kept your eyes shut.

Echo took in the mix of fresh and fading bruises on your face and the way your body was racked with exhaustion. Emerie’s prior information did not even come close to accurate- this wasn’t conditioning, it was torture. “You just allowed this to happen?” He questioned angrily as he snatched the key from Emerie and strode over to your slumped form.

“Oh, now that’s good. He almost sounds like him.” You complimented with a weary sigh.

“I didn’t mean to- Hemlock- he was-” She stopped any attempt at defence because no matter what, she’d played a part in this. “I did what I could to help her.”

“Open your eyes and look at me.” Echo implored as he undid your chains and took off his helmet.

“No.” You whimpered. “It’s a trick. It’s always a trick.”

“It’s not a trick.” Echo reassured you as he rested both hands on your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

“Echo doesn’t have two hands.” You said, aggressively shaking your head as you kept your eyes tightly shut.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.” Echo pleaded. Time wasn’t on his side here and he needed you back with them.

He sounded so real; you couldn’t help yourself. You slowly opened your eyes and took in the familiar face and the eyes that were filled with worry as they looked at you. “Echo?” You whispered; your tone filled with uncertainty.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You’re here? This is real?” Even though Omega had told you this would happen, you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully believe it.

“It’s real. And the others are on their way.” He confirmed with a small reassuring smile.

You flung your arms around him and as he returned your embrace, you already began to feel more alive than you had since arriving here.

“Come on, we gotta get you on your feet.” Echo supported you as you shakily stood up.

“Where’s- where’s Omega?” You said through gritted teeth as your body protested the movement. You knew she had a plan of her own but with Echo and Emerie here, you had to wonder why she wasn’t with them.

Emerie gave you a round of E-bacta shots to get you closer to the level of fitness they needed you to be.

At the first injection, you automatically flinched away from her and into Echo’s side.

Emerie paused and chastised herself for being so thoughtless. She held up her hands in a pacifying gesture and apologised, “Sorry. It’s just bacta to help you heal quickly.” But she waited for you to give the okay before she went any further.

You regarded her suspiciously and made no moves to allow her to carry on. You were on edge, just waiting for the familiar effects to set in and for this to all come crashing down around you.

Echo felt your body go rigid as you leaned into him. He’d never seen you like this and it unnerved him. He was so used to seeing you remain unphased, no matter what came your way. Whatever torture Hemlock had done to you had left far more than physical marks. “I saw her grab the med supplies. She wants to help.” He reassured you gently.

You glanced at his face but saw honesty and so you nodded to Emerie to continue.

Once you were more relaxed, Echo answered your question. “Omega’s already helped us out. Her plan to release the Zillo Beast has worked very well so far. Their forces are a bit stretched and frantic at the moment.” He informed you proudly.

“Oh, she’s brilliant.” You murmured with affectionate admiration.

Echo nodded in agreement as Emerie finished tending to you.

“Hey, wait a minute, you do have another hand?!” You gawped before wincing as the final injection entered your skin- the pricks were still a painful reminder of what you had endured here.

“Not exactly the time for that.” Echo reminded you.

“We cannot linger here. We need to keep moving.” Emerie agreed hastily as she put the medical supplies away.

You nodded sheepishly. “Yup, you’re right, you’re right. Keep that for later.”

Echo picked up his helmet and put it over his head. “Can you walk?” Echo asked.

You rolled your sore shoulders as you took a steadying breath and nodded. “The bacta is working. Let’s go.” You called on the Force to help you find that extra bit of strength as you all exited the cell.

--

The three of them stopped again and Crosshair used his binoculars to scan ahead. He saw a squad of troopers with lurca hounds and everything he’d been trying to supress since arriving back here came rushing back. His hand trembled and his breathing came to him in short pants. He couldn’t do this. His brothers couldn’t do this; he wouldn’t let them. “They’ve got heavy patrols guarding the perimeter with lurca hounds.”

“Told you we should’ve brought Batcher.” Wrecker joked feebly, groaning in pain and bracing himself against a tree. He noticed the helmeted looks of concern that were sent his way from both his brothers. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m fine!” He insisted through another groan.

“No, you’re not.” Crosshair disagreed strongly. “Change of plans. You two, head to the communications array and try to contact Rex.” He drew his sniper rifle. “I’ll infiltrate the base myself.”

“Not happening.” Hunter objected.

“Yeah, we’ve handled worse situations than this. Countless-”

“Wake up, Wrecker.” Crosshair snapped. “Clone Force 99 died with Tech.” His voice dropped slightly, “We’re not that squad anymore.”

Wrecker and Hunter reflected on that for a moment and Crosshair was right, they weren’t, it was true. But they’d become something more, hadn’t they? Something that meant far more than just a squad title for a war effort. And Tech, alive or dead, was a part of that too.

“I’ve been inside that mountain. I know what we’re up against. If we all go in, we’re not all making it out.” Crosshair continued. “(Y/N) and Omega need you both. So, I’m doing this alone. It’s- it’s what I deserve.” He said, almost to himself.

Hunter wasn’t going to accept that or even entertain the possibility. “Don’t even think about Plan 99, Crosshair. They need all of us, and so do those clones.” He stood facing his brother, so he knew, even with his helmet on, that he meant every word.

“We’ve always known the risks. And so did Tech.” Wrecker placed a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder.

The sounds of the lurca hounds in distress got their focus back and Hunter looked through his binoculars just as the hounds were running away from their handlers.

“What’s going on?” Wrecker asked.

A deep banging and screaming of dying troopers answered his question as the Zillo Beast emerged from the base with a piercing roar.

Crosshair knew that could only be the result of one of three people. “Whose handiwork?”

“Omega’s.” Hunter and Wrecker said in unison.

“If she’s giving us a way in, let’s not waste it.” Hunter said before setting off towards the base again.

--

Satisfied that it was safe to emerge, Omega removed the grate and led the way over to the ladder that ran up the entirety of the base.

“You want us to climb up t-that?” Jax asked nervously.

“The Zillo got out this way. So can we.” Omega replied but she saw a familiar but fearful reluctance on Jax’s face. “What’s wrong?” She asked kindly.

“I’m not good with heights.” Jax admitted. “I- I guess I’d make a poor soldier.” He said shamefully.

Omega’s eyes softened. “My brother Wrecker hates heights too. And he’s the strongest soldier I know.” She touched Jax’s shoulder in reassurance, “Just stay focused on what’s ahead, not what’s below.” She waved them all over and led the climb up the ladder.

--

“The Zillo breached the bay doors and fled to the jungle after wiping out two full divisions of troopers.” Scorch said as he entered the control room. “We need reinforcements.”

Hemlock kept his hands behind his back but clenched his covered hand into a fist. “Send the shuttles after the Zillo.”

“But, sir, without air support, the rogue clones could exploit our weakened defences.”

“Of course they will. Do it.” Hemlock strode out of the control room.

--

Hemlock entered the training room and powered up the system. Even though he hadn’t wanted to use them just yet, the situation called for it and it was time they had a true test. Even though they’d only come up against you, Hemlock had no doubt that they were ready and could get him the results he needed. He watched with a dark smile as they emerged from their capsules.

He said nothing to them yet, he just motioned for them to follow him out but as he did so, he was interrupted by Scorch again.

“Sir, the Jedi has escaped.” Scorch told Hemlock. “Should I send a squadron to look for her?”

Hemlock massaged his gloved palm harder as he felt that rage flare up again but then a remarkable sense of calm overcame him, and a new idea emerged from the clarity. Perhaps this was the way to go after all. “No need, Commander. Send a squad to accompany the operatives to the hangar bay and when she is found, I want her alive. I want all of Clone Force 99 alive.” He nodded to his soldiers to leave for the hangar.

Now, you all would do the work for him.

All he had to do was wait.

--

The three of you waited until the corridor was clear before you followed Emerie around the corner and down towards another door.

Emerie slid her datapad into the panel and programmed the door to open, but it only opened a fraction before the system shorted out.

Echo peered through the gap and saw the wreckage ahead. “We’re on the right track. Omega definitely came through here.”

“And went where? How are they getting around unseen?” Emerie asked.

Echo followed up path of chaos up the way. “What’s at the top of this shaft?” He moved out the way so Emerie could look.

“It leads up to one of the transport hangars.”

“Any chance you know a shortcut?” Echo checked.

Emerie nodded and made to leave the area.

You didn’t follow them, instead you puffed out a short breath, “This isn’t going to work.”

Echo and Emerie paused and looked back at you.

“I can’t stay with the two of you. The fact we haven’t been caught yet is incredibly fortunate but the longer I’m with you, the more likely it is that’ll happen. We can’t risk either of you being discovered.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Echo asked.

“You two can go find Omega and those kids, I’ll find Hunter and the others.”

“You don’t know the way.” Emerie pointed out.

“Sure I do.” You motioned through the gap in the door. “Just follow the mess and head straight up, right? I can get there quicker than you can now that I’m free and feeling a lot better.”

“There will be soldiers and you’re not 100%. And there’s no clear way through either.”

“I’m a lot more capable when I’m not bound and tortured.” You argued pointedly.

“It’s still not a viable-”

“Echo…” You tilted your head in his direction. “Please tell her.”

Echo nodded to you and then spoke to Emerie, “She can do it. Plus, you won’t really be able to stop her. There are only two that could, one of them is somewhere in this base and the other is doing his best to get here.”

“He’s right. You’ve helped heal me and I think you’ll find I can be far more stubborn and irritating when I’m not in a permanent state of pain.” You said with a simple shrug.

Emerie sighed but conceded the matter. The debate wouldn’t get them anywhere and, thanks to the bacta, you were on the mend. Plus, you had skills that would aid you in this task. “Very well. You’ll need this.” She handed you your weapon.

You took your lightsaber from her with a nod of thanks.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to stop him.”

You offered her a slight smile. “Well, you did stop me bleeding out that one time so…”

Emerie wasn’t about to let you let her off the hook so easily. “I should’ve done more.” She repeated seriously.

“You’re doing more now.” You said, dipping your head in acceptance of her words.

Echo rested his left hand on your shoulder. “Be careful.”

You placed your own hand on his upper arm. “You too.” With that, you used the Force to widen the gap in the door and hurried through it.

Echo and Emerie began their more traditional route.

--

You took in the levels of destruction ahead of you and you had to hand it to both Omega and the Zillo Beast, they definitely didn’t do things by halves.

Calling on the Force, you jumped to the next highest safe point you could reach, and kept that going when you could, climbing quickly when you couldn’t, and the hangar was drawing closer by the minute.

You knew it wouldn’t be long before you saw them again.

But you also knew it would be far from over when you reached them.

--

Blasters drawn, the three of them had managed to reach the transport hangar and sneak their way in. The entire hangar was decimated, with bits of it’s interior now reduced to piles of scrap metal. Fires were dying all around them.

Just as Hunter was assessing the situation, he dodged the blaster bolt aimed right at his head.

They all took cover behind some scrap metal and looked ahead at the emerging squad of troopers.

“What now?” Wrecker grunted.

Crosshair was the first to peer out and he saw the stormtroopers but that wasn’t what unnerved him. The sight of four operative soldiers standing on a pile of wreckage is what alarmed him. They couldn’t handle this.

“How many?” Wrecker asked as he saw Crosshair press himself back against the scrapheap.

“Too many.”

“W-we can take ‘em.”

Crosshair steadied his shaking hand. “No we can’t. Not in your condition. We need to fall back.”

“Crosshair-” Hunter tried to argue, not trusting that Crosshair was planning.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you.” Crosshair placed a sticky bomb on the end of his rifle and fired it at a fixture hanging over the main area of the transport bay.

As they began their retreat, the troopers starting firing on them and advancing towards them.

They could only be on the defence as they fired back.

--

You heard blaster fire above you and- breathing hard after the strenuous climb- with one final jump, you reached the ruined transport hangar. Some wreckage blocked your path but you used the Force to push it out your way and the sight that greeted you had your stomach lurching. Troopers were everywhere and, although you had been blindfolded the entire time, you knew the four armoured soldiers making their way through the hordes of soldiers were the operatives Hemlock had pitted you against and were what he wanted you to become. You knew yourself that you still weren’t ready for this type of combat, but you couldn’t do nothing.

You took a revitalising breath as you centred yourself and blocked the lingering pain you were feeling from your mind before you ignited your lightsaber, the shining blue blade giving you that added strength you needed.

With a Force-aided leap, you sailed over the heads of troopers and placed yourself between them and the clones behind you.

--

For a moment, time stood still.

Hunter stopped falling back as he heard that familiar ignition sound and his head snapped towards the source and his breath caught in his throat as he saw you.

It was you. Standing in a soiled prison uniform but in a wash of blue light that stood out from the ember flames was you.

However, something was off as you blocked the blaster fire and struck down the troopers around you. Your movements weren’t quite as fluid or easy as they typically were. You moved stiffly, almost cautiously, and it was obvious to him that you were hurting. He could only let the worst imaginings take hold of him as he thought about what had happened to you and his blood boiled as anger raged through him.

Hunter got a hold of himself and fired at a trooper that was taking aim for your back.

At the sound of a body dropping next to you, you turned and followed the path the shot took, and sharp gasp left your throat.

Everything else around you slowed down and faded into the background as you caught his helmeted gaze. The paint, like his brother’s, had been stripped from his armour, but it was him. He could wear a hundred disguises, decorate his armour in a hundred different ways and you’d know it was him. You’d know him anywhere.

Time swiftly righted itself swiftly again once Crosshair’s bomb went off, shaking the already weak integrity that remained of the hangar. The entire room trembled.  

You cut through the final trooper before you turned off your saber and jumped over the falling ceiling beam. You saw the top of where the hangar bay doors used to be begun to collapse which threatened to block their way out and so you called on the Force and held the structure in place. You could buy them enough time to get out and then you could follow.

But you sensed the oncoming threat a second too late.

One of the larger operatives tackled your waist and you both went sliding along the floor.

--

Hunter and Wrecker watched as the once steady structure started to fall once more. Clearly, whatever help you were providing was no longer available. Now, the approaching gunship was their main concern.

Hunter shoved Wrecker out of the line of fire but the resulting explosions behind him threw him across the room where he clattered into a heap of wreckage and the knock-on impact from the blast saw more falling pieces land on top of him. Darkness engulfed him.

Crosshair killed the pilot and began to run over to the two of them.

Wrecker dashed over to where his brother had fallen, “Hunter!” He removed the metal and picked him up, but he didn’t get very far before a weighted bolas wrapped around his legs, causing him to trip and drop Hunter.

Crosshair caught up to Wrecker, holstered his sniper rifle, and took the vibroblade from the side of Wrecker’s leg and worked on cutting through the rope but he saw another operative heading straight for him. He wasn’t able to draw his blaster in time. The blow landed and sent him careening backwards.

Wrecker couldn’t do anything to help his brother either. The operative that had tripped him up and hit Crosshair now towered above him and pressed his electrostaff straight into the gash in his chest and the pain was excruciating. His entire body was engulfed by the electric current and he didn’t have the energy to fight against the man above him or the hurt anymore, it all got too much, and he succumbed to the darkness.

Stars danced in front of Crosshair’s eyes as his back hit against another piece of debris and his head snapped back against the metal, but he saw that Wrecker was in trouble and he made himself stay awake as he searched for his weapon which he saw a few metres to his right. But his attempts to grab it were thwarted instantly. Crosshair groaned as a foot stamped down on his wrist before he could reach his blaster.

CX-2 caught the vibrosword from his counterpart before he looked down at the pathetic form beneath him, “You should be more careful with your shooting hand.”

Those were the last words Crosshair registered before he saw the blade descend and he felt a deep, searing pain and his sight went black.

--

You and the operative that had attacked you had been engaged in a fight all on your own whilst that had all gone down.

The operative had gained the upper hand in the tussle and your lightsaber had escaped your hold in the struggle.

Right now, you were doing your best to stay conscious as the operative straddled your chest and wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing hard.

You powerfully facepalmed the underside of his chin so his neck whipped back, stunning him for a second but it was a much needed second.

With that second, his hold on your neck loosened and you were able to remove his hands from you. You pushed him off you and to the side of your body where, with a ragged breath, you got to your feet.

You stomped down hard on his stomach as he attempted to sit up. With one hand, you used the Force to keep him flat on the ground- his futile struggles spurring you on. With the other hand, you called your lightsaber to your it and activated your blade as you swung it down…

“Stop.”

Your blade hovered over the operative’s chest as you angled your head in the direction of the recognisable voice. Your breathing left you in short, uneven pants as you glared at him.

“Surrender or his head goes next.”

Your mouth went dry as you saw what the operative from Pabu was talking about. Crosshair’s shooting hand had been cut clean off and now the long vibroblade weapon was resting over his neck.

“Put your weapon down, or they all die.”

You scanned for the other two and saw another operative standing over Wrecker with an electrospear pressing down on what appeared to be an open chest wound and Hunter lay limp and unmoving on the ground.

The only reassuring thing about this situation was that they all were still breathing. Unconscious, but still alive. And that’s how you wanted to keep them.

You clenched your jaw and ground out a defeated breath as you disengaged your weapon and released your hold of the soldier beneath you.

Your operative got to his feet and snatched your weapon from you and, with a hard punch to your jaw, took your arms behind your back and held your wrists together in a strong and unnecessarily tight grip.

You were too dazed to do anything to resist it.

They moved you all out and back into Tantiss base.

--

Omega reached the top of the level that led to the transport hangar. As they’d all drawn nearer, they had heard the sounds of blaster fire, but it had all stopped now. She only hoped that meant Hunter and the others had gotten through.

She headed off for the hangar bay, the children following behind.

--

Echo and Emerie exited the lift and made for the but both of them slowed as they saw a group of operatives go down the corridor.

There were three soldiers unconscious on hovercrafts.

You were pushed along behind them, your arms held securely behind you by one of the soldiers, a fresh purple bruise on your jaw.

Emerie glanced at Echo and even with the helmet on, she could tell he was worried, “Is that the rest of your squad?” She asked as they all rounded the corner.

“Yeah.” Echo said, his voice low. “Where are they being taken?”

“I don’t know. But Hemlock will keep them well guarded.”

“I can handle that. But we have to find the children first.”

Emerie waited a second in case he wanted to change his mind. She could tell his mind was still with all of you, but he was pushing through for the current objective. “The science hangar is up ahead.”

--

Omega guided the others into the room and took cover by a crate as they all took in the destruction. Whatever had happened here wasn’t solely due to the Zillo Beast anymore- a firefight had occurred here too.

“Do you see your squad?” Eva whispered to Omega.

“Not yet.”

“Hey! You don’t belong here. Call it in.”

Omega jumped to her feet and started to back away from the two troopers, but two stun blasts shot above her head towards the men. She turned back around to see her rescuer was another stormtrooper.

“Causing chaos, Havoc 5?”

“Echo?” Omega gasped happily.

Echo removed his helmet and smiled, “Hey kid.” He then saw more children come out from behind Omega. “And other kids.”

“The shuttles in bay four are still operational.” Emerie informed him as she came back from checking them out.

“You’re helping us, Dr. Karr?” Eva said in surprise.

“I am. But we must hurry.”

Echo put his helmet back on and he and Emerie led the way to the shuttle at a run.

As they reached the shuttle, Omega paused and looked around her. “Wait. Where are Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair? And (Y/N), we’ve got to free her!”

“We got her out, but we split up and now, they’re all detained together.” Echo told her.

“You mean captured?”

“For now.” Echo turned to Emerie and slotted his blaster under his arm. “Can you fly that shuttle?”

“Yes. Why?”

Echo brought out a datacard and gave it to her. “Take the kids to these coordinates. We’ll meet you there.”

Sami, Jax and Eva all looked at one another anxiously.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jax asked Omega.

“There are more prisoners inside, including my family. I can’t leave without them.” Omega welcomed their group embrace and rubbed Bayrn’s head. “Don’t worry. Emerie’s taking you someplace safe. We’ll meet you there.” The kids let her go and stepped away.

“Here.” Emerie passed her datapad to Omega. “This will help you access all wings of the facility.”

“Look after them.” Omega instructed her sister.

“You have my word.” Emerie promised. She placed her hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Be careful, Omega. And…” Emerie took a short breath before she shared her final bit of what she hoped was useful intel. “And if you can, check out the maintenance closet in the prison level. It isn’t what it says, Hemlock spent almost as much time there as he did with your Jedi friend, and he didn’t tell me why. But he never did anything without a purpose. He’s hiding something there; I just don’t know what.”

‘Tech was more resistant to my methods this time.’ Hemlock’s words echoed in her head, and she couldn’t help it, theories and hope started to stir in her. She nodded to Emerie before she and Echo took off back to the base and back to the rest of you.

“You ready?” Echo asked as the door opened just as the shuttle with Emerie took off and away to safety.

She’d succeeded in her initial objective. Now it was time for the next one. “Let’s complete the mission.”

--

This was no nightmare.

This was no illusion.

This was no trick.

This was not a figment of your imagination.

You were not under the influence of any injection or serum.

There was no denying what you were hearing and seeing now.

There was no blocking out this type of agony that you were experiencing.

Hunter’s moans and screams of pain as the electricity crackled against his temples and jolted through the rest of his body were real.

It was all horrifyingly, heartbreakingly real.

And no matter how much you struggled against your captor’s hold, you were helpless to do anything but watch and listen.

There was no convincing yourself that it wasn’t happening.

And you knew would do anything to make it stop.

Hemlock studied the room. Your hands were now bound in cuffs in front of your body, but one operative still kept a vice-like grip on your shoulder. Hunter and the others were in their capsules, bound and powerless. Crosshair and Wrecker were still unconscious, and Crosshair’s right wrist was being sealed off by a droid. He ignored you for the moment, your time would come soon, for now, his attention lied with Hunter. He signalled for the machine to be turned off.

Hunter panted heavily as the torture finally stopped. Everything hurt, his limbs burned, his head felt like it was going to explode- and that was just from this. He could still fill a deep soreness in his ribs from the blast in the hangar bay. And right now, it may have stopped but he still felt the current in his veins, so the pain endured. He could barely keep his eyes open. He attempted to free his hands from the binders, but they were too tight. Then, he heard Hemlock’s cool, quiet voice.

“The last time we crossed paths, you had just lost a member of your squad. And it appears history may repeat itself. CT-9904 resisted my conditioning in the past, but I’ve made alterations to my methods. Something your… partner can attest to. If you all survive, you will make fine operatives.”

Hunter followed Hemlock’s gaze to where Wrecker and Crosshair were and the wave of guilt that he felt upon seeing what he’d brought on them made way for new type of hurt to enter the mix. Then his sights found yours and he saw the fear and distress in your eyes at Hemlock’s words. He had rarely seen you look so genuinely terrified and yet whatever else Hemlock was talking about got that from you.

“No!” You shouted as you violently fought against the hand holding you back. You couldn’t bear it if they suffered that fate or had to go through anymore of this.

Hemlock ignored you and approached Hunter. “And if not, well, there’s no shortage of clones to test on next.”

“We’ll survive. But you won’t.” Hunter said with as much strength as he could muster.

Hemlock regarded the clone pitifully and indicated to the operative to start the process once more.

Hunter couldn’t help the anguished shouts that left him as he felt that electric fire deep in his body once more, each nerve felt like it was burning away.

“Stop! Stop hurting him!” You cried out as you pulled against the hand on your shoulder. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You wanted to take his pain away.

Hemlock turned to you and hummed out a pleased laugh as he saw the torment on your face. He had you right where he wanted you. “Do you know I finally figured something out?”

You breathed heavily as Hemlock touched the recent bruise on your jaw but did nothing to stop him in case it made things worse for the rest of them.

“You didn’t succumb to my methods because they weren’t real. I was foolish to think a Jedi such as yourself would be so easily fooled by mind games. You needed the element of doubt removed and look at the results. One glimpse of the real thing and see how you quickly you fall apart.” Hemlock said smugly.

You weren’t looking at the doctor, you were looking past him to at the man you loved with every part of you.

The man who had brought you into a crazy, wonderful family.

The man who had shown you more patience and care than you had ever deserved.

The man who had enabled you to open your heart to everything he had to offer and who had shown you that attachment could be a beautiful thing.

The man who had your heart and soul.

But was now being put through the worst kind of pain he could experience.

And then you looked to the others. To the ones who had welcomed you instantly and who had risked everything for you and Omega and who were now hurting and endangered because of it.

And it was tearing you apart. “Just let them go. Let him go. Stop this, Hemlock, please.” You choked out.

Hemlock nodded again to get the operative controlling the machine to stop. He wanted the clone awake for this.

Hunter gasped in limited relief as the electricity turned off once more. He fought through the pain to keep his eyes open as he saw Hemlock beside you, a cruel yet somehow gleeful smile on the man’s face that worried him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. There was something deeply unsettling about the sight of him standing so close to you like that.  

“You know, from our time together, I can see why you would fall for her.” Hemlock commented to the clone. “She showed remarkable durability and resolve. She was quite a challenging subject.”

Hunter clenched and unclenched his hands as he watched Hemlock. It wasn’t just the physical torture that had his body feeling this much pain. After what you’d told him about Christophsis, he’d never wanted you to go through that hell again, but you had. He’d been far too late.   

“But of course, such feelings are a weakness, all too easy to exploit. Oh, you should’ve heard her cry out for you, just begging me to end your suffering.” Hemlock pretended to ponder the next decision. “Then again, perhaps you can.” He stood in front of you.

Your blood ran cold as you saw the look in Hemlock’s eyes.

“You wish for his pain to stop?” Hemlock asked you, a wicked and calculated smile on his face.

“Yes.” You said, your voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Beg.”

“No.” Hunter rasped as he heard the demand.

You shoved down the bile that rose in your throat at the thought. “Please.” You breathed.

“Not so resistant now, are you?” Hemlock taunted cruelly. “But I don’t think you mean it.”

“Don’t do it.” Hunter ground out weakly.

But you would. You would do anything. You kept your attention on Hemlock. “I’m begging you, please, please don’t hurt him anymore.”

“More.” Hemlock commanded, enjoying the distraught etched on your face and the pathetic attempts the clone gave at breaking free to stop this.

You didn’t need the pressure on your shoulder that came from the operative by your side. You did it freely. You didn’t care about the humiliation, you only cared about making it end. On your knees, you glanced up at Hemlock, your voice hoarse as you pleaded, “Please. Please stop hurting him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Hemlock caressed the side of your head. “You know what I want.”

The sight of you begging on your knees for that man caused him more pain than any machine could. Hunter, as weak as he was, still attempted to get out of his prison. You shouldn’t have to do this, not for him.

You did. You knew precisely what he was after, but you automatically shook your head in refusal.

Hemlock simply snapped his fingers.

Hunter tossed his head back and writhed and yelled in pain as the electricity coursed through his body once more.

“No, stop! Please!” You begged. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Hemlock held his hand up and it ceased once more. “Well?”

You swallowed tightly. And it wasn’t just Hunter you wanted to save; you had a family you needed to protect. “I join you, they don’t.” You negotiated quietly, hating the words as they left your mouth.

Hemlock considered the options in his head. Getting a Jedi under his command would be yet another testament to his work and that was worth more to him than these clones. It was a sacrifice he could make. “Join me and I will allow them to remain prisoners here. No conditioning required.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get for them right now. You squeezed your eyes tight as you resigned yourself to what you were about to do and ignored Hunter’s pained and faint protests. “I’ll join you.” You barely got the words out, but you’d said them now. You opened your eyes to that sadistic and twisted grin, the one from your nightmares. The one that he'd wear once he made some kind of monumental breakthrough in his research. And this time, it was warranted. He’d done it. He’d finally broken you.

Another Imperial entered the room. “Doctor, there is an incoming transmission from Governor Tarkin.”

Hemlock signalled back to the operative stood by Hunter’s capsule.

A raw and tormented scream left Hunter’s throat as his senses were overloaded once more.

You rushed to your feet and went to lunge for the doctor, but the operative held you back. “No! You said-”

“Think of it as a reminder of what will happen if you change your mind.” Hemlock said icily as he left the room.

If it weren’t for the bruising grip on your upper arms, you would’ve collapsed to the ground, but you were left with no choice but to stand there and live with what you’d decided and to hear Hunter’s cries.

--

The lift opened to the prison level and before the troopers on guard had time to react, Echo shot them both. He picked up the loose blasters and he and Omega advanced down the corridor.

More troopers came at them, but Echo easily took care of them whilst Omega slid the datapad into one of the terminals.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on?”

Omega turned to the clone that addressed her from behind his cell door. “We’re breaking out.” With that, she programmed all cell doors to open. “Here.” She tossed the clone a spare blaster she had acquired. “I’ll look for the others.” She told Echo, mentally including the so-called maintenance closet in that statement.

Just as she looked down one corridor, she saw another familiar face. “Nala Se!” She ran over to the Kaminoan.

Nala Se knelt down to the girl’s level. “Omega, why did you come back to this place?”

“I had to, but it’s okay. We’re all getting out this time.” She reassured her old mentor before she carried on past her, anxiously scanning for any sign of you all.

--

Omega hadn’t seen any of you, but she had found the door Emerie had referred to. She knew perhaps the hope she was feeling in her heart was foolish, but she couldn’t help it, it was who she was. And she’d rather know for sure than spend the rest of her life regretting that she never tried. She held her breath as she opened the door.

Omega’s exhale left her with an indistinguishable surprised and elated sound as she saw the figure.

He may have a supportive brace encasing his entire right leg.

He may be without his goggles.

He may look dishevelled and weary.

But there was no mistaking his face.

This was her brother. The brother she never thought she would see again. The one that had given up everything for them. Yet, somehow, he was standing there before her.

Omega stared at the man that had turned to face her when the door opened. “Tech?” She gasped, scarcely believing it. She needed him to speak, to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

Tech’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t dared take Hemlock’s words as the whole truth, but he recognised the child immediately and… and he felt alive again. “Omega?”

Another joyful sound left her throat as happy tears welled in her eyes. She dashed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Did it not work?” Tech whispered as he rested his hands on her back. He recognised the prison uniform. And he didn’t remember a lot since Eriadu, especially with the months spent enduring Hemlock’s manipulations, but he had thought the rail car had gotten away at least.

“No, it- well-” She stopped. “The main thing to know is Crosshair did betray the Empire and he’s back with us. We can catch you up on the rest once we’re out of here.”

The news about his brother made him sigh in relief. They had been without Crosshair for far too long and Hemlock’s lies had been the only moments he had to imagine what having him back would feel like but the happy emotions it brought had all been spoiled and tainted by Hemlock’s cruelty. Now, he could allow himself to feel that happy again and he could be confident in knowing it was true. Then, he remembered the last part of Omega’s statement. “Out of here?” Tech repeated, the very concept had felt like a distant desire for such a long time.

Omega smiled at him, “Come on, Echo is waiting. We’re breaking everyone out.”

Tech released a long, relieved breath, “An excellent idea.” He concurred. He followed her- a slight limp in his gait now- out of the cell that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever leave.

--

“We gave up hope that anyone was coming to help us.”

Echo held his helmet and addressed the clone that had first spoken to Omega when they’d arrived, “We’ve been looking for this base for a while.”

“Echo, I searched all the cells. They’re not here. But I did find someone else.”

Echo turned at the sound of Omega’s voice but what he saw had his jaw dropping and his helmet fell from his grasp. He said nothing as he walked towards his brother and clasped him close. “I don’t believe it. How- I mean- you called out the plan- we saw you fall.”

Tech hadn’t quite expected the hug, but he welcomed it all the same. It felt good to accept that fighting against Hemlock this time had been worth the pain. This was a truth he could trust. “You forget that my intelligence did not cease to exist after I shot that connection hinge.”

Omega smiled as she heard that loveable cockiness in his voice.

Echo released his brother but kept his eyes on him. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice fuelled with concern.

Tech grew more solemn again. “As much as could be expected. However, I’m afraid to say that I have failed our squad. Hemlock, he wanted information about you all. I resisted when I could but- but his methods were rather… effective at getting the results he wanted.”

Echo had seen what Hemlock’s methods could do so in a short space of time and Tech had been here for months. So, the very fact that he had even held out at all was something to admire. “Don’t worry about that.” Echo reassured him. “All that matters is that you’re alive.”

Tech gave him a grateful bow of his head before he straightened his spine. “I see that I am not the only one with a new look.” He commented lightly, gesturing to his brace and Echo’s mechanical hand.

Echo allowed himself a short chuckle, “Yeah, well, the situation called for it.”

Tech nodded in understanding before he scanned the group of clones around them all. “But where are the others?” Tech asked, fully realising that amongst these newly freed clones, there were four faces that were missing. And the worry that flashed across Echo’s face did nothing to ease his own anxieties.

Giving Tech’s shoulder one final squeeze, he spoke to the rest of the clones surrounding them. “The rest of our squad were grabbed by Hemlock’s operatives. Where else would he take them?”

“Well, they could be in the training room. It’s where Hemlock conditions the clones he deems useful.”

“I think I know where that is.” Omega said, grabbing the datapad. “Follow me.”

“Are you joking?” Rampart shoved past Echo. “The wisest course of action is to leave while we can.”

Echo glared at the man. “Clones don’t leave our brothers behind. And Hemlock’s also got someone who is just as important to us as any other clone.” He moved Rampart out the way and kept his speech for his fellow clones. “Listen, I know you’ve all been through enough. You deserve your freedom. But Omega and I can’t do this alone. Is anyone willing to stand with us?”

The clone that spoke to Omega spoke first, “I will. I’ve got one more fight left in me.”

That spurred others on. Soon more rallying shouts were declared throughout the group.

“Good.” Echo said appreciatively. Then he turned to Tech and took a reluctant breath, “Tech…”

Tech recognised that look but hearing that the rest of you were in danger had his loyal and protective instincts as a member of this squad come rushing back to him. “I want to go with you.” Tech insisted. “They need our help.”

“You’re not 100%. We lost you once, it’s not happening again.” Echo said firmly. “Get the injured to the hangar and secure a shuttle. You can help them there.” He gave Tech a spare blaster. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Very well.” Tech said with a heavy sigh. Deep down, he knew that his current situation made him more of a liability for such a high stakes mission. He needed to recover properly and get back to form and he could start by helping the rest of these clones.  

Echo put his helmet on once more. “I’ll trigger an alert in a different wing and reroute their troops. The rest of you, grab any weapon you can.”

Tech led the way with the injured, hoping that this would all come to a better conclusion that Eriadu had.

Before Omega left with Echo and the rest of their team, Nala Se’s voice stopped her.

“Omega, I must not allow my science to remain in the Empire’s hands.” She knelt down and placed a large hand on Omega’s shoulder. “The only way you will be free is if Hemlock is gone and the databanks are destroyed.”

“Then let’s get to the lab.” Omega said determinedly.

“No. Your place is with them.” Nala Se nodded to the clones.

Omega dipped her head in both a farewell and in understanding. “You’ll need this.” She gave Nala Se the datapad and watched her walk away before she joined up with Echo and left the cells.

Rampart watched the scientist go, a fresh plan of his own forming in his head as he made to follow her.

--

Hemlock walked back to the training room, working on dampening his simmering anger and irritation. The conversation with Tarkin had not been a productive one and now he was faced with having to deal with the lousy Imperial face-to-face.

He had it under control. Tarkin would just be another nuisance he had to deal with.

--

“The training floor’s two more corridors over.” Omega said to Echo as they eliminated the guards by the hall terminal.

Echo used his scomp to bring up schematics. “The pneumatic tube system runs throughout this base. Think you can use it to get eyes inside that room?” He opened a panel in the walls.

“It worked in the vault.” Omega ran over to the gap and crawled into the narrow space.

“Relay what you see, but stay out of sight until we’re in position.” Echo ordered before she disappeared. He handed her a comm.

“Rodger that.”

--

Nala Se had taken a grenade from a downed trooper as she made for the lab. She had accepted what her course of action would lead her to.

Covertly following her, Rampart grabbed a blaster from another body.

--

Nala Se entered the lab but just as she finished bringing up the databank and blood samples, a blaster clicked behind her, and she was staring down an unhappy looking Admiral Rampart. She activated the bomb behind her back, no one was going to stop her from doing what needed to be done. And if she took this Imperial down with her… well, that was an added bonus.

--

Omega peered out into the room from behind the ceiling grate. All was quiet. You were standing up, your hands in binders with an operative holding on tight to your shoulders, whilst the others were knocked out and in some type of capsule prison. “Echo, I have a visual on them. There’s an operative on guard but I don’t see the others.” She whispered into her comm. “I might be able to free them if you give me a big enough distraction.”

“We’re on our way.”

--

Echo and his group of clones entered the training room but as soon as they entered, the lights dimmed, the floor lit up in a harsh red light and parts of the floor rose up to form obstacles. They were ambushed by the other operatives in seconds.

--

You couldn’t understand why the operative holding you suddenly let you go to activate the downstairs area, but the sounds of blaster fire soon told you why.

You hoped Echo’s plan was going to work.

--

Omega managed to sneak into the room without incident. She caught your eyeline and motioned for you to be quiet as she went over to the main control box. She worked on Wrecker’s first, and she succeeded in removing one of the wrist cuffs. Before she could work on anything else, she felt eyes on her and she let out a fearful gasp as she saw the operative staring at her.

You acted quickly. You ran in front of the operative and saw your lightsaber attached to your belt. You lunged for it but with your hands bound, you were limited in what you could offer and a powerful kick to your chest sent you tumbling to the floor. Winded and gasping for air, you could only watch as Omega’s stun blasts did nothing to stop the advance of the soldier and he took a hold of her arm and dragged her into the centre of the room. You got to your feet just as Hemlock entered the room with the operative from Pabu.

“A glaring weakness in clones is their loyalty to one another.” Hemlock said to the young girl. “Thank you for proving my point.” Then Hemlock beckoned you over to him as you both walked towards the window.

“Now that you’ve joined our ranks, perhaps it is time to see what sort of matters you will have to deal with.” Hemlock said to you. He wouldn’t free you yet, not until he knew for certain that this matter was officially over and dealt with. Your attachment for the clones remained and therefore the margin for error was still too great so for now, you remained in cuffs and his prisoner.

You forced yourself to ignore Omega’s shocked gasp as she heard that.

“Shall we see if they fare better than you did?” Hemlock allowed the firefight to continue for a couple minutes before he pressed the buttons that would introduce his special toxin into the room.

You could only watch on in horror as the clones without helmets started to cough and choke whilst they desperately clutched at their throats before they collapsed to the ground.

“Perhaps an unfair comparison given that I didn’t use this for you but alas, sometimes such things are necessary. You will find that often the most pain gets the quickest results, but with your skills, you will make quick work of things, I am sure.”

“You joined him?” Omega said in dismay.

“I had to.” You croaked, your throat closing up as everything you loved fell apart around you.

--

Having entertained Rampart and his delusions of Imperial redemption for long enough, Nala Se didn’t fear the blaster bolt that entered her chest and as the light faded from her eyes, she took comfort in the fact that this final act of hers would bring peace to Omega’s life.

Rampart heard the rapid beeping of the grenade that rolled free from her hand as she fell, but before he could do anything, his life left him in a flash of blinding white light.

--

Having been the only one with the safety of a helmet to resist the gas, Echo was on his own against the three operatives.

He staggered forward as a knife entered the back of his shoulder. His blaster was knocked out his grasp, so he used his mechanical hand to defend against the swings of the sword from the operative that had cut him, and he succeeded in throwing the black-armoured clone against one of the walls, so his helmet came off and he too feel victim to the gas.

However, Echo didn’t have long to recover before he was knocked to the ground but just as he reached for his blaster, it was kicked away, and he glanced up to see another operative pointing a blaster at his head.

--

Hemlock kept his sights on the scene below. “Their efforts have failed.” Hemlock stated. “Predictably so.”

You were shoved back to stand in the middle of the room with Omega.

Omega glanced at you, but your face was a blank slate. Your posture was slumped and heavy with defeat. You had no fire, no fight in you.

“Sir, there’s been an explosion in the central lab. It’s been destroyed.” Scorch revealed as he entered the training room.

This news snapped you out of your fatigued and defeated state. Hemlock wasn’t untouchable and he knew it. You remembered the nervousness you’d picked up on when he’d first told you they were coming to the base, and you saw the way his body tensed after Scorch’s words. For all his victories and apparent calmness, he knew you were the people that could get to him which was why he’d done everything he could think of to tear you apart. The thoughts sent a surge of strength and resolve through you. What the fuck were you doing? This was your team, your squad, your family. You’d all never stop fighting for each other so why had you? You’d given up so easily and that wasn’t who you were, how could you have lost sight of that? You glanced over to Omega and nodded.

Omega felt hope rise in her chest as she saw the familiar spark and determination in your eyes. She then stole a look behind her to see Wrecker slowly waking up. “You failed too.” She said smugly to Hemlock. “Your data’s gone.” And she wasn’t just talking about the samples, she knew Tech was safe too.

Hemlock whipped his head around to face the two of you. He had what he needed; he could start again. “But I still have you both.”

Picking up on Wrecker’s movements too, you got ready to fight once more. “Hey, Hemlock?” You waited until his eyes arrived on you. “Go to hell.”

Hemlock glowered at you but before he could do anything more, Omega spoke once more.

“And you’re forgetting one thing. We have them.” Omega said proudly.

Chaos erupted.

Wrecker ripped himself free of his capsule and used the portion covering his legs as a shield against the blaster fire before he launched it towards the operatives, the impact of the piece of metal against one of the control towers took down the entire system in the process.

Crosshair and Hunter groggily woke up their confinement also loosened.

Wrecker shakily got to his feet and pushed against the electrospear that the operative shoved towards his chest. He ignored the pain of the electrical current and kept his focus entirely on meeting the soldier strength for strength.

You dashed over to Hunter and rested your bound hands just beside his head “My love, I need you to stand for me.” You murmured with urgency. You placed your hands under his neck and then moved them gently still to his upper back to support him.

Hunter strained to open his eyes as he took in your still slightly blurry form, but he never failed to recognise you or your voice. He nodded and inhaled sharply as he slowly rose with your encouragement.

Whilst you did that, Omega made a break for a loose blaster, but Scorch grabbed her. She struggled against him, but she was forced to stop as Hemlock paired them together with a set of cuffs.

“We’re leaving. Get the Jedi.” Hemlock said to Scorch, passing him a hypodermic with a sedative inside it. He then snatched a blaster from CX-2 as well as the set of controls he kept on his sleeve for his ship. “Deal with them.” He directed the operative before he dragged Omega out,

Scorch came over with as he saw you attempting to aid the clone sergeant to his feet. He speedily stabbed the needle into your thigh and pressed down on the plunger.

You reacted swiftly and slapped his hand away before you landed a kick to his gut, but you felt the broken skin and as you removed the needle from your leg, you saw that the tip of it was wet, and you knew that you hadn’t been fast enough. Some of it had entered your system. A wooziness overcame you and you swayed on your feet as you fought against it.

Scorch recovered from the blow you dealt him and as he saw the unsteady way you stood as well as the lack of clarity behind your eyes, he knew he had done enough to get you compliant. He grabbed your wrist and forced you out of the room as he hurried to catch up with Hemlock.

--

Seeing that Hemlock was escaping with you both, Wrecker thrust the spear above him and kicked the operative back.

Hunter wearily worked on standing up straight and finding the strength to go after you and Omega.

“Get them back.” Wrecker said to Hunter before he let out a roar and charged at the operative he’d been fighting. He tackled his waist and smashed through the cracked window.

--

The gas dissipated and Echo glanced up to see the glass of one of the windows had cracked and there were flashes blaster fire. Whatever was happening above him was the disruption he needed.

And that distraction developed as Wrecker came crashing through the window.

In the mayhem, Echo was able to divert the blaster pointed at his head to the second operative standing behind him and take cover. Even with one operative dead, he was still outnumbered but two more rounds fired past him to disband the operative forces. Echo turned and saw that Wrecker- despite being flat on the ground- had been the one to fire the shots but he was still in danger. Echo fired a series of shots to the operative that Wrecker had forced out of the window and that operative also fell dead to the ground.

But Echo couldn’t ease up. Another operative had recovered from the disruption and attacked them again. Echo opened fire back as he took cover behind one of the obstacles.

Wrecker was slower to react. The shot he took to the inside of his leg as he rolled for shelter was yet another painful sign of how out of it he was. But he needed to get it together, Echo still needed him, and he wasn’t going to let his brother down.

Echo carefully moved around the room. He knew there were two operatives remaining and they made themselves know quickly. Now that the danger of the gas was gone, he had removed his helmet to aid in his breathing but as he walked around the side of one of the wall obstacles, a wave of blaster fire was sent in his direction, and he quickly pressed himself back against the wall. He searched for another way to somehow get behind the operative who had fired on him but as he did so, he felt a threat approaching his own back. As he turned, he saw the operative with the vibroblade weapons lunge for him and his blaster wasn’t primed to take the shot to stop it.

With a loud shout, Wrecker got to his feet and picked the operative up by the neck and smashed his head through one of the walls. That took up the last of his energy, his legs gave out and he fell to the ground with a deep groan.

Seeing his brother go down so heavily alarmed Echo deeply which was why he wasn’t the one to kill the final operative that had emerged. No, those shots came from one of the clones who had rallied by his side for this fight. He gave him a grateful nod before he knelt by Wrecker’s side. The clone could barely keep his eyes open, and he was breathing in short, sharp pants, his pain was obvious. “Wrecker, where are the others?” Echo asked as he looked on worriedly as his brother.

“They’ve- they’ve gone after-” Wrecker broke off with a low groan and couldn’t finish the thought. He was too exhausted and sore to focus on anything other than staying awake.

Echo put it together. “I can help you get there but I need you to get to your feet.” Echo urged as insistent but as caringly as possible, but Wrecker made no move to stand. “Come on, Wrecker, you can do it.” He thought of the first thing he could think of to get him there. “Tech’s alive. He’s waiting at the shuttle.”

“If that’s supposed to cheer me up, it’s a bad way to do it.” Wrecker managed to grunt.

“I’m serious. Omega found him.”

Wrecker glanced at Echo and a brief rush of adrenaline hit him as he saw the serious and honest look on Echo’s face.

“It’s true. I saw him.” The other clone added as he came over to offer his help.

Wrecker allowed himself to believe that because it was now the only thing giving him the strength to even think about getting up. With a determined moan, he got to his feet.

Echo, along with the other clone, supported Wrecker as they all made their way to the shuttle.

--

Hunter had managed to stand and grab the spear that the operative had left behind, but everything was still blurring together in one dark and incoherent shape. He couldn’t fully tell one sense apart from the other, everything was too sore and disjointed.

But he knew there was still an operative up here and he had to focus on finding him.

Crosshair was also beginning to get to his feet and as he saw CX-2 creep next to his pod and aim his blaster at Hunter, Crosshair kicked his arm which caused the shot to go array.

Tracking the sound, Hunter threw the spear in the direction it had come from and heard the sharp blade meeting it’s target as CX-2 was speared in the gut and the power behind Hunter’s through saw doubly sure that he was dead as he was flung back into the power grid and electrocuted.

Hunter grabbed the fallen rifle and spoke to Crosshair through gritted teeth, “I’ll go get them. You should stay here.”

“Not a chance.” Crosshair grunted as he properly got to his feet.

Hunter picked up a second blaster and handed Crosshair the sniper rifle.

Supporting each other, the two of them hobbled out the room to go catch up with you and Omega.

--

The night air was cold as a storm raged on.

Thunder rumbled above you.

Lightening flashed through the black clouds.

The pouring rain pelted against your skin.

The wind whipped across your face.

But as unpleasant as it was, it did help get you out of your sedative state. You just had to wait for the right moment and so long as Scorch had a blaster pressed to your back and Omega was cuffed and attached to Hemlock, it wasn’t the right moment, so you pretended to still be as compliant as you had been when being led through the corridors out of the training room.

Hemlock led the way across the exposed and narrow walkway towards the landing platform. He was almost there. He could rebuild once he got away. He ignored the girl’s struggles and protests as he dragged her further along and pressed the button on the control sleeve that would bring the ship to them. Just as the ship was preparing to land, two blaster bolts hit the right and left engines and the ship erupted into flames.

You used as your moment to take care of Scorch. You smacked the back of your head into his visor and turned on your heels to grab his blaster.

In the push and shove struggle, both of you teetered towards the edge of the bridge. One particularly nasty shove from Scorch saw to it that you fell over the top, but you still had a hold of his blaster, so he toppled over with you.

You just about managed to take a scrappy hold of the one of the bars that formed the boundary of the walkway, Scorch fell past you into the abyss below. The metal was slick against your fingers and being cuffed wasn’t making holding on any easier, your grip was haphazard at best. Which was why you weren’t surprised that you couldn’t keep a secure hold and you slipped downwards, your fingers catching the edge of the platform.

You saw the scene unfolding across from you and you wished there was more you could do to help but all you could do now was fight to keep your head up as your legs dangled aimlessly. You called on every piece of strength you had to hold on and wait this out.

--

Hemlock thrust Omega in front of him and wrapped his arm around her neck as he held the blaster to her head. You were out of the picture for now, his main adversaries remained further down the bridge. “That’s far enough!” He threatened as he saw the clones

Hunter shook the rain from his eyes as he and Crosshair paused to figure out the next best course of action. He had to trust that you would hold on for long enough. Right now, his priority was Omega. He knelt down and kept his blaster trained on Hemlock.

Crosshair did the same, only he rested his rife on Hunter’s shoulder as he peered down his scope.

The two of them synchronised their breathing as the storm echoed around them but that didn’t distract them. Their entire focus was on the two people down the walkway.

“You won’t get past them.” Omega said, no fear in her voice.

“They won’t risk hurting you.” Hemlock said through heavy breaths. “And it’s not only you they have to consider.”

“Neither will you. You need me alive.” Omega countered. “And she’s a lot stronger than you think.” She said, knowing that no matter what, you would be fine.

Hemlock brought her to the edge of the bridge opposite to where you were hanging. “If I go over, then you go over.” He then bellowed down to the clones, “Drop the blasters!”

But Omega wasn’t going to entertain that outcome. Hemlock’s arrogance would be his downfall. She reached into her sleeve and grabbed the tool she had stolen from Emerie’s supply kit.

--

Hunter saw what Omega was doing and understood her plan. “Shoot the binders.” He told Crosshair.

“I- I- I can’t.” Crosshair stammered. He had rarely practiced with his left hand as the trigger hand and these conditions were less than ideal to make such a precise shot. “They’re too close. If I’m off- I can’t risk Omega.”

“She knows what to do, Crosshair.” Hunter said. He trusted Omega and he trusted Crosshair. He had all the confidence that his brother could make the shot. “Wait for her, then take the shot.”

Crosshair let that faith and his own desire to rescue Omega guide him as he rested his finger on the trigger. He could do this. He knew he could. He inhaled and exhaled steadily as he waited on her.

--

Omega stabbed her implement into Hemlock’s thigh and used his surprise to step away from him and she raised their cuffed hands in the air.

When Crosshair’s shot met it’s mark and separated them, she crouched down as she heard six shots hit Hemlock’s chest and she watched his body fall over the side.

--

Releasing a thankful sigh, you braced yourself on your forearms as you worked on hauling yourself back up. You felt a supportive hand tug at your arm and angled your gaze to see Omega doing her best to help you back onto the bridge.

Once safely situated and cuff free thanks to Omega’s tool, you stayed propped on your knees and braced your hands on your thighs as you caught your breath and looked at the young girl and all it took was that glance from you. She crashed into you, and you squeezed her close. “Are you alright?”

Omega squeezed you back and nodded into your neck. “Yeah… I’m okay.” She said through an exhausted but relieved sigh. “Are you?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m okay.” You said, your throat tightening as you realised what was about to happen next. It had been the thing that had gotten you through every night since arriving here. And it had been the thing you had so nearly given up and lost.

You both pulled apart at the same time.

You got to your feet and followed her gaze towards the two men still kneeling further down the bridge. You didn’t need to check with her, you both started running together.

Naturally, you reached them just before Omega did and you didn’t really slow down in your approach.

With adrenaline overpowering your own lingering pain and tiredness, you- getting caught up in the excitement of seeing Hunter again- foolishly forgot about his injuries and all but launched yourself at him. You collided against his chest with a happy cry and flung your arms around him and pulled him close to you.

“Ow ow ow.” Hunter mumbled with a sharp wince as he braced himself against your strength, but he couldn’t help himself, he clung to you just as tightly.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your words were muffled from where you pressed your face in the crook of his neck. You went to pull away instead, but he wasn’t letting you yet, in fact he readjusted his hold to keep you right where you were.

Hunter breathed you in and let himself get lost in the feeling of holding you and feeling you against him. The familiar shape and scent of your body providing him the comfort and security he needed to alleviate part of the pain he was feeling with his senses. He nuzzled into your neck and used one hand to cradle the back of your head whilst his other arm still kept you tight to him.

The two of you held onto each other like you were terrified it was all a dream and you might be taken away again. The bridge was cold and wet against your legs but after all that had just happened, it hardly mattered now. The rain continued its deluge against your body, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was this moment right here and now.

Only when his body did truly start to protest against the strain, did Hunter relax his arms.

You released your own arms and hid your face in your hands as the emotions of the time that had passed hit you all at once. Sobs mixed with laughter left your throat and racked through your body as you realised that he was safe. That Omega was safe. That they all were safe.

Hunter gently took your hands away and carefully held your bruised face. He used his thumbs to softly wipe some of the rain and tears running down your cheeks. He brushed some wet strands of hair tenderly away from your face before murmuring, “I love you.” A kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” A kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” A kiss to your other cheek.

You stared into his brown eyes as you got yourself under control and they grounded you so completely as you saw the feeling behind them. “I love you too.” You gasped breathlessly. You threaded your fingers in his damp strands and-more mindful of his injuries- leaned forward.

Hunter went to close the gap but the sound of someone managing a strained but somehow still very pointed cough caused you both to stop and you turned your head to see Crosshair and Omega waiting expectantly.

“What? No hugs for us?” Crosshair said with a light-hearted, albeit pained, smile at the two of you.

You huffed out a chuckle and together, you and Hunter slid into their embrace, and you all wrapped your arms around one another. You shared in that moment until Omega decided to break away.

You all got to your feet, but you noticed how unsteady both Crosshair and Hunter were.

With Omega looking out for Crosshair, you focused your attention on Hunter. “Lean on me.” You instructed him as you placed his arm around you, and you took on his weight as you all made your way to the transport hangar.

--

You all reached the shuttle and slowly walked up the ramp but the person you saw tending to Wrecker’s wounds had you all forgetting any remaining aches and pains.

All three of you inhaled sharply and stopped short. You shared a look to make sure you were all in agreement with what- or rather-who you were seeing.

“Yeah, you’re not seeing things.” Wrecker told you all with a cheery disposition.

Echo had a small yet delighted grin on his face as he took in the stunned yet happy reactions from all of you.

“Oh… did I not mention that?” Omega kidded, a joyous smile on her own face.

“Tech?” Crosshair all but whispered.

“You’re alive?” You and Hunter said together, emotion overwhelming both of you as you spoke.  

“You sound surprised.” Tech said with a small smile. What did catch him by surprise though was the way he was dragged into a large group hug with all six of you.

And as the shuttle took off and you all had that minute together, you were hit with a remarkable sense of home.

--

The shuttle landed in Pabu and the rescued clones steadily departed the shuttle first.

Echo, Omega and Wrecker were the first of you all to leave with Echo wanting to check on Emerie and Omega wanting to check on her friends from the vault.

Tech made to go too but hesitated as he caught the attention of a familiar face.

Phee’s eyes widened. She walked up the ramp and took in the messy yet totally recognisable man in front of her. “Well, brown eyes, it’s about damn time.”

Tech made to adjust his non-existent goggles but caught himself. “I was- uh- rather occupied for a while.”

Phee raised her chin and smiled. She came up the ramp and linked arms with the clone. “Now your survival is an adventure I want to hear all about.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the faintness of blushes on Tech’s cheeks.

“Well, it involved a grappling hook and some pretty fast thinking. I was falling…”

You, Hunter and Crosshair watched them walk away and you caught the completely astonished expression on Crosshair’s face. It was possible he was more taken aback by that than by seeing Tech come back from the dead.

“I have a question.” Crosshair asked as he stared at the fading figures.

“What’s that?” You said, pretending to have no idea as to why he looked so bewildered. You welcomed Hunter’s arm that looped around your waist and the look he gave you told you that he was willing to play along.

“We just spent the duration of that journey getting medical attention and catching Tech up on everything that had happened since you all ignored Plan 88, right?”

“Right.” Hunter agreed, ignoring the playful jab.

“And I was on Pabu and with you all a good while before everything went to shit.” Crosshair said.

“Uh huh.” You concurred, a slightly teasing smile on your face as you waited for him to get to the point of his question.

“So, please explain to me why no one thought to tell me about that.” He pointed with his left hand towards Tech and Phee. “Since when did Tech get- I mean how- just what exactly is that?”

“Oh… that.” You feigned a sudden realisation. “Huh, I guess they did get pretty close whilst we were staying here. How many dates was it before we had to leave, Hunter?”

Hunter matched your teasing tone. “Yeah, I don’t know. At least three or four- not that Tech truly realised that’s what they were. We really didn’t tell you?” He asked Crosshair, a smirk on his face.

“You two are impossible.” Crosshair groused before he walked down the ramp, muttering under his breath.

You laughed quietly as you watched him leave.

Hunter let out a low chuckle too as he brought you in closer to his side and he pressed his lips to the top of your head before you both walked out the ship.

--

Emerie observed the children from afar and was pleased to see them chasing the animals of the island and interacting with the Omega and the other young clones. “They’ve adapted quickly.” She said as Echo approached her side.

“Kids are resilient.”

“A childhood’s not something we ever had. Our lives have never been our own.”

“Until now. I’m heading to Pantora to help get some of the clones settled. I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find whatever you have to say very helpful for our cause.”

“I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.”

Echo rested a hand on her shoulder before he made for the shuttle once more.

Emerie followed a few paces behind.

--

As you and Hunter were making your way from the shuttle, Omega called out your name.

You paused and turned to see she had brought a group of kids over with her.

“These were the children I was telling you about. This is Eva, Jax, Sami and Bayrn.” She introduced each child in kind before she introduced you and said to them, “And this is my friend I told you about.”

“Hello.” You said warmly as they looked at you, both with curiosity and nervousness.

“I um, I filled them in on everything. I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded. “You contact Rex, I’ll catch up.” You said to Hunter whilst Omega went to go find Batcher. You crouched down in front of the remaining children. “Omega told me a lot about you too. I hear you all helped with her escape plan, that’s pretty impressive.” You said sincerely, keeping your voice tender and kind.

“Omega was the one that led it. It was all her. We didn’t do too much.” Jax said.

“A team is only as good as everyone in it. You all had a part to play, and you did it well.” You cleared your throat as you readied yourself for the next part. “Now, I know Omega has told you that I’m a Jedi, and did she tell you what that means?”

All of them nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. And I have to ask, have any of you ever like an object moved without you touching it, or you were somehow able to jump higher than you expected?”

You knew Baryn couldn’t really understand and wasn’t paying much attention as he babbled away in Sami’s arms, but you figured he was there for the same reasons as the rest of them nodded again.

“We’re going to look out for you whilst we work on getting you back to your families, but life will always be a bit different for you now, and you’ll still have to be careful. But I can teach you some things whilst you’re still here that should help and once you’re home, if you or your parents have any more questions, you’re welcome to come back.” You offered, smiling at them as they nodded. “Alright, that’s all from the grown up for today. Carry on exploring.” You said fondly before you stood up and went to rejoin Hunter and Omega

--

You, Hunter and Omega had taken up position by the weeping maya tree with Batcher lying by Omega’s side. You all watched as the clones walked around freely and the children from the vault got to enjoy being kids once more and it was a delightful sight to take in.

“With Hemlock gone and his data destroyed, they’re finally safe.” Omega said with relief.

“Mm-hmm.” Hunter agreed and released a relieved sigh of his own as the impact of that statement properly hit him. “And so are both of you.”

“Will it take long to find their families?”

“Rex and I are working on it, but we’ll look after them until then.”

“And that brings the adoptive parent tally up to eight- nine including Gungi.” You kidded affectionately before you laid down next to Hunter and rested your head in his lap.

“Like you didn’t just offer them that exact thing whilst I was speaking to him.” Hunter retorted playfully as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek.

You stuck your tongue out at him before the sound of the shuttle powering up grabbed all of your attention. You raised your head and saw Echo getting ready to depart with some of the clones that wanted to continue the fight. All four of you dipped your heads and smiled in farewell.

“What about the rest of the clones?” Omega asked as she watched the shuttle leave. “Will they stay here on Pabu?”

“Well, it’s up to them. They’re free to follow their own path.” Hunter exhaled tiredly but kept his voice light as he said, “We’ve all fought enough battles for one lifetime. Now we get to choose who we want to be.”

“Like what?” Omega asked.

You smiled at Hunter and placed your head back down in his lap. You closed your eyes and let the sun’s warmth seep into your skin.

“Whatever we want, kid.” The girl leaned against his arm and his voice and face softened at the action, “Whatever we want.”

Then, as the Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair came to sit down with the three of you, Hunter stared down at your utterly content form and stroked a hand past your brow and through your hair.

He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to be next.

Post S3 oneshot>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @allthingsimagines , @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia , @justsomerandompersonintheworld

[femalebookworm]

ps: spoiler alert cause I was spoilt — my own fault. So, to tell this review, I’d need to simply just blurt everything out. Spoilers ahead. I won’t hide this review in all, cause while I tell all, there zero details. Also, kindle dictated for how long I’d read, btw — makes me wonder if replacing the battery is the way to go, or simply buying newer device would be the best option. I ask for feedback on this, my fellow bookworms.

Okay, then, this is Vital Secrets series (bundle of book 1-3, but as you can tell, reviews will be separate!) is my first read for 2024 (finished today, Jan 2, 2pm sharp), picked this set at random after seeing cover with dude holding a gun and some words like, crime, thriller, suspense, detective work etc attached to it. All that, set my mindset for CSI, NCIS; set the standards too high, but the coincidences were piling up too hard and too fast, I just followed the letters on the e-page.

This book was filled with coincidences and breakthroughs with actual connections lacking dead-ends you ought to find in such genres, everyone was too smart and too sharp to make mistakes or look elsewhere; the whole introduction of too many characters without a second thought to carefully build them, or even tell us something more than a name within the first paragraphs instead of maybe 5 chapters away, really grind me the wrong way enough to stop and write this down. Just a tiny bit of criticism. I have come to like a few of them and side-eyeing Paula character hard. RIP.

Falling in love for the first time is hard when you’re an intelligent psychopath. Falling in love at first sight with a brand new FBI profiler (Nathan, just leaving it here cause last page sneak peek into the next volume mentioned his name, so…) when you’re an intelligence young woman, it’s good. This book centers in the lives — heavily — of both Bella and Mikel. Mikel being the psychopath you can immediately tell is the killer, Bella being the unfortunate object of Mikel’s Cupid arrow.

You know it, it’s fast paced enough where you’re barely registering the time span of things. And a lot of things happen. A lot. Death of loved ones, degenerates (as the book called), death of more loved ones, blossoming young minds going missing and coming back lobotomized in some way, mind control, nanotechnology. Relationships getting serious. Weddings. Pregnancies. Killings. Rapes. Killings. New relationships once again. It goes on, until the bad guy lands in a comma. How he survives and with their mind intact, it was never answered. Just happened. You accept it. Then, you accept some more stuff that seems impossible and BOOM. A trail of deaths on two shoulders. A strong-minded woman that unfortunately just couldn’t make it. And Thunder just lighting the bullseyes of a psychopath. The End.

There’s a book 2, so won’t delve too deep into this review. Once the bundle 1-3 books are done, this review will be uploaded to that book. If you’re just passing by, don’t worry. This is a message for the Goodreads folks. A copy-pasta, that might get my audiences from different places confused, but it’s new year, new me, less filter, less mindfulness. Really in a hurry to keep reading. Bye.

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 26 - I've Loved Everything About You That Hurts

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: They’re insane because I’ll try to write a chapter with no sex and they end up fucking, and then I try to do the sex in less words and now it’s emotional.

Chapter Title from G.I.N.A.S.F.S by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 25k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, plus some extra smut and average No Love Lost angst.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, much smut (p in v, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting) fluff, emotional angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Ben was not the brains. And he was fucking fine with that. He was the muscle, and he was goddamn good at it. Because while She was stronger than he was—She was stronger and brighter and more vital than the fucking sun—she shouldn’t have blood on her hands. Her hands weren’t fucking meant to be covered in blood. They were meant to tap in a smooth, unyielding pattern against every surface, and turn the pages of books, and hold Ben’s face as she smiled at him. She was meant to fucking smile, and only be near blood to sit with Ben as he washed it off himself.

She kept letting it stain her skin. She kept taking fucking bullets meant for others and covering herself in the mud that pussies like Homelander pushed her into. And that’s what Ben was here for. He was now certain that he wasn’t here for fame or glory or money, he was here to move in perfect fucking time with the woman he loved. To listen to Her giggle and mumble and snort, and give her the fucking world. To dance with Her in the kitchen, and joke with her about fucking everything, and keep his arm around her during dinner as She gave him a secret look that meant I love you, Benjamin, you grump. He was supposed to watch baseball as She frowned at the screen, turning his hand over in hers as she tried to follow the game. He was meant to hold onto the easier, better things—the warm, well-fueled light that inflated in his chest when Ryan hugged at him after training, or the chuckle he couldn’t stop from escaping his body when She pouted at him about something stupid, or the way She moaned when he fucked her into the mattress—and hack and claw his way through the worse parts.

Ben was meant to be the only person in the fucking world who did the dirty work for Her. She’d done enough, and even though he believed her more and more when she told him I’m okay, Ben would do everything in his fucking power to keep her okay. He knew he couldn’t stop Her from running into traffic, because she was fast and stubborn and still didn’t care if She got hit. But he’d jump in front of the oncoming car, and continue to make her understand that he fucking cared. Ben would never fucking recover if She got hit. And if all he could do was tell Her I fucking love you, stop thinking you’re weak and expendable when I fucking love you and adore you and need you, and then run into traffic with Her, he’d do it. Ben was meant to fucking defend Her from everything that haunted her at night, and he understood that now. That he’d never chase away the ghosts, and She’d never chase away his, but they could really easily fucking kill them together. If they were together, those fucking pussy ghosts didn’t stand a goddamn chance. 

So Ben was the muscle, in order to make sure that She didn’t have to be. It was another thing for him to do for Her, when She’d made everything so much more beautiful just by fucking existing near him, and fixing all his messes, and loving him. Still somehow fucking loving him, because Ben was almost goddamn certain some cosmic entity had made a clerical error and sent him the most perfect woman in history, instead of leaving him alone. Ben thought he was supposed to be, mostly, alone. Making empty promises to women he knew he didn’t really want, and to keep fucking moving until it was enough.

It hadn’t been enough. It had never been fucking enough. 

But he’d rested for one goddamn second—his head held against Her body, the most awful aching fucking pain he’d ever goddamn felt consuming him like a storm—and it had been good. She’d hummed to him like she loved him, and She fucking did, and stayed. He’d rested, and it had been enough. 

And now he knew that the fantasy he’d created—where life was so fucking happy because She was happy—wasn’t something he’d allow to be a fantasy. He couldn’t control anything about Her, but he could keep her happy. And if Her nightmares were of blood, he’d never let her see fucking blood again. He’d hide everything that was blue—if they had a son, the kid would have to just fucking deal with green—and shoot out whatever fucking ceiling fans made her cry. He’d drive her everywhere, half because he was over a hundred and had never seen someone speed like She did, and half because she was afraid of heights, and shouldn’t have to use a single goddamn plane. He’d yell at whoever was in charge of bridges until they built one to Rome, and the rest of their fucking lives would be happy.

That was a life he wanted to live. Where he was resting with Her, and they were both happy. And Ben would fucking choke on blood and dirt and mud until it was a reality. 

Which is why he was losing his fucking mind as they entered that part of this war where it wasn’t about muscle anymore. It was about careful moves and well chosen words, and it was the only goddamn battle Ben couldn’t fight for Her. He wasn’t fucking stupid, but he wasn’t even fucking close to understanding whatever the hell went on in Her perfect, clever, insufferably brilliant brain. He knew how She thought—because he knew Her and loved Her and cared for Her—so when something happened that made her eyes grow glazed and her breathing become mechanical, Ben knew he had to hold her until she stopped thinking the only stupid thoughts she was capable of thinking.

That she was bad, when she was actually the only truly good thing in the world. 

That she was weak, when she fucking wasn’t. 

That she didn’t matter, when she mattered more than fucking anything, and sometimes it stabbed him deep in his arteries that she still didn’t get that. 

Ben knew how to chase those thoughts away. He was smart enough to know how to worship and tend to her, and to know when she just needed him at her side.

But Christ, he wasn’t smart enough for this shit. For the CIA and Singer and Edgar and Sage messes. This was Her territory. And Ben could stand at her side, but that was the only fucking way he could help, and it was driving him out of his goddamn mind.

What was worse, though, was that She was fucking confused. And that’s how Ben knew they were fucked.

Because not a single goddamn person could figure out what the fuck the keys were for. 

As they’d left the safe house, Neuman had stopped them. In reality, Neuman had stopped Her and Ben had simply fucking refused to leave them alone. He’d received several irritated glares from Neuman, but She’d moved her free hand to hold Ben’s forearm—in a silent request to keep his hand in Her’s, to stay at her side all the goddamn time—so Ben had stood tall and proud next to her, keeping her safe. Just by being there, like She’d told him to. Neuman could look fucking pissed at him all she wanted, Ben wasn’t going anywhere.

“You were at Red River,” Neuman had watched them carefully, arms crossed as she blocked their way down the stairs. “Did you get it?” 

There had been a pause as She examined Neuman, before finally nodding, her tone flat and  bored. “Yeah, we did. We’ll get it to Edgar-“ 

“What is it?” 

She’d blinked at Neuman. “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters,” Neuman had said Her name with an eye roll, and Ben had felt something bloody and zealous tense in his body. “Edgar raised me to be a lot smarter than just blindly trusting him, so I want to know what it is.” 

“And if I don’t tell you?” 

“Oh, come on.” Neuman’s voice had been vaguely amused, giving Her a flat look. “We both know you’re going to tell me. You trust me enough to bring Ashley here, and whatever it is I bet you’re debating whether or not you should give it to Edgar. I can help you decide.”

Ben hadn’t been debating shit. It was keys. Who gave a fuck about keys. As far as he had known, they’d toss the keys to Edgar, settling the debt, and figure out what the fuck to do with the V.

And that was another fucking reason why She was the brains. She’d studied Neuman—fingers tapping on Ben’s arm with lips pulled between her teeth—and found a conclusion that satisfied her enough to reach into Ben’s pocket and pull out the keys, holding them up for Neuman to see.

“Keys.” She’d jingled them with a shrug. “Got an idea what they’re to?”

Neuman hadn’t. Neuman had just looked fucking confused, and helped with goddamn nothing. Neuman had stared at the keys, bluntly stated that she didn’t know what they could possibly unlock, all of Edgar’s property assets were seized and all of Vought’s buildings used electronic locks, and suggested they figure out what they were for before giving them to Edgar. And—based on Her drawn, too-neutral face and the spark of indigence in her eyes—She’d already known all that, and had no intention of giving Edgar a goddamn thing until they knew what the hell was going on.

And now they were even more goddamn late to get back to the compound, and make the drive to DC. She’d volunteered to drive them back, and Ben, Hughie, and Kimiko had exchanged silent looks of not a fucking chance in hell. 

“I’ll be safe-“ 

Ben had drawled Her name, cutting off her protests as Hughie and Kimiko moved to the front of the car. “You will not be fucking safe. You’re worse than Butcher, and if you wreck his car we’re going to have to deal with his bitching for the rest of our goddamn lives.” 

“But-“ 

He’d tugged Her into the back seat, holding her half on his lap and kissing her pretty, pouting mouth until she relaxed in his arms. We’re going to be fucking fine. If Singer gets all goddamn pissed about us being late, he can shove it in his dick hole. 

A small smile had played on her lips, still pressed against Ben’s. Gross.

Her heartbeat had remained steady under Ben’s hands for the rest of the—perfectly fucking legal and safe—drive, and when they’d stepped off the elevator they’d been greeted by MM’s assessing glare and scowl.

“What the hell took you so long.” 

“Um,” Hughie had glanced back to Her—tucked under Ben’s arm—with a stutter of Her name and pallid face. “Do you want to-“ 

“You know what,” MM had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t care. Kimiko, you and Frenchie are holding down the fort with Ryan. You three,” he’d turned his glare to Her, Ben, and Hughie. “Get ten minutes to pack. We’re rolling out in fifteen no matter who the fuck is in the limo.”

She’d blinked. “The limo-“ 

“Van’s still scrapped,” MM had muttered. “And we can’t fit six grown ass adults in a minivan or Butcher’s car. We’re renting a limo.”

Ben had no complaints about that. He didn’t have to wear a damn seatbelt in a limo, and it was a very opportune and appropriate place to hold Her in his lap as they drove without groans and pointed glares from their prude fucking team. If a life of luxury had taught him anything, it was that limos were meant to hold beautiful women, and he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t hold his beautiful woman—the most beautiful, perfect fucking woman who he fucking loved—when he was given the opportunity. So he’d let Her pull them back to their apartment, changing as she stuffed their shit into a suitcase, and taken over when her heartbeat became too fucking fast and her glare at their clothing became almost violent.

“I’ve got it,” Ben had walked up behind Her, wrapping his arms over Her shoulders and kissing Her neck until she let out a breath that didn’t sound fucking mechanical. “Don’t lose your damn mind, Sunshine, I can fucking pack.”

She’d nodded slowly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t,” he’d muttered, leaning down to kiss under Her jaw, and felt something light and perfectly fucking mind-numbing wrap around his brain like a crown as she made a high, breathy sound. “Go get changed, darling.” 

She’d let Ben guide her to the dresser, and begun to hum under her breath as she’d changed.

“Rainbow Connection.” He’d grunted as she’d returned to his side, hanging off Ben’s arms as She surveyed his packing job.

Her smile had been all content, easy joy, and Ben whole fucking heart had skipped. Then she’d started to actually fucking sing, and he’d genuinely considered just letting the team leave without them. Her voice was like honey and summer rain and something peaceful and strong that Ben hadn’t heard before Her, and never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of his fucking life. The only thing that kept him from staying here, where She was safe and happy and the whole goddamn world was just color and light and her perfect fucking smile, was that she’d kick his fucking ass if they missed this meeting.

They’d had five more minutes, though. And that was more than enough time for Ben to spin Her around until she was dizzy and giggling, swaying in his arms to the instruments that weren’t really there as She sang, looking at him with such infinite and impossibly fucking ceaseless love.

This was the fucking shit worth fighting for. This was where Ben was goddamn supposed to be. And even as he’d kept his arm over Her shoulder—letting Her drag the suitcase behind them and grabbing his shield before they left the apartment—Ben didn’t fucking want to go. He wanted to stay right here, and let this ungrateful world that kept fucking hurting Her crumble.

But She wouldn’t let that happen, and part of why Ben loved Her—there were countless fucking reasons, and the world would probably be swallowed by the Sun before he’d finished naming them all—was because she loved fucking everything. She had a goddamn unfathomable amount of love to hold in Her body, and most of it might be for Ben, but it still spilled into everywhere that Ben could see. Music sounded better, and jokes were funnier, and water quenched his thirst faster when she was around. The only thing Ben remained at her side was hungry. For more of this fucking beauty, and whatever bit of love She’d spare for him. And as long as She kept loving the world, he’d defend it for her. If Ben had a goddamn say in anything, the world wouldn’t fall to ruin until She told him to burn it.

And She wouldn’t. So Ben had to kiss Her head and mutter that he loved Her—just in case she hadn’t heard him the million other times he’d said it—and stay watchful and dependent at her side. Walk with her to the elevator, out to the parking lot, and over to a sleek, black limo that already had the engine fucking running.

“Bout fucking time,” Butcher had grunted, jerking his head to the limo doors as they approached. “We were two bleedin seconds from leavin you twats behind. I’m drivin, which means I’m in fuckin charge, and that means no hanky panky in my bloody limo.”

She’d wrinkled Her nose as Ben opened the door. “Hanky Panky? What are you, a fucking grandmother? You sound older than he does.” 

Butcher had scoffed as She’d bumped Ben’s shoulder. “Shut it, Love, least I know how fuckin wifi works.” 

“I know how wifi works,” Ben had grumbled into Her ear as Butcher turned away. “You put in the numbers and the radio shows you the internet.”

“That’s,” She’d paused, tilting Her head as Ben pulled her into the limo. “Not wrong. Good work, Pretty Boy.”

He’d grunted, shifting them until She was on his lap, not sparing a goddamn glance to the rest of the team. “I didn’t fucking miss the old shit, brat. I’m not-“ 

“Fucking old,” She’d grinned at him, voice dropping into that dog shit impression of Ben that She’d only gotten worse at. “You know better than any damn pussy fucker, Sunshine, that I am not old.” 

He’d rolled his eyes, kissing at the base of Her neck, and MM had let out a very loud cough that almost made Ben bash his brains in, because it caused Her beautiful, perfect face to twist away from him.

“Sorry, MM-“

MM had cut Her off with a heavy, almost pained sigh. “It isn’t that shit. I mean, we’d all really appreciate if you toned it the fuck down for the drive, but I’ve given up on trying to stop you motherfuckers from humping like dogs in heat all the goddamn time.”

She’d flushed, and Ben had taken over. “The fuck do you want then-“

“The Cornucopia.” MM had looked between Ben and Her and Hughie with a raised brow. “What the hell is it.”

She’d reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the keys, and tossed them across the limo to MM. He’d blinked at Her, she’d explained Red River as Ben added some very fucking helpful nods and Hughie jumped in with small, stupid details that didn’t seem like they mattered, but She’d thanked him for anyways. 

And now, after a whole goddamn hour of sitting in the limo, they’d made no progress in figuring out what the fuck to do with the keys. Everyone had coughed up fifty dollars to Annie for Her bet of any item that’s not a bucket—Annie had forgiven Her debt, and Ben had taken Annie’s dish duty for two fucking months to make up for his own—and they’d passed them around the group for everyone to examine like they’d suddenly fucking have Vought Sex Dungeon engraved on the side.

“Maybe they’re to a storage unit?” Annie looked around the group, fidgeting with the keys in her hands, and MM shook his head.

“No, they’d have a label on them. And then we’d have to worry about-“

“What the fuck is in the storage unit.” She mumbled, leaning Her head back onto Ben’s shoulder. “I mean, no matter what those keys probably lead to the actual Cornucopia. It can’t just be keys.”

“But it’s different, right?” Hughie leaned forwards as he spoke, arms on his knees. “If it’s a storage unit, or a box, or, like, a whole building? And it matters that they’re keys, I mean that sort of, um, narrows it down.”

Ben frowned, opening his mouth to ask Hughie how the fuck that narrowed a goddamn thing down, when She squeeze his arm over her stomach.

A lot of Vought buildings don’t use physical keys, they use keycards. And those keys don’t look old, so it’s not a warehouse that just hasn’t been modernized.

Ben reached his hand up to tilt Her head back, moving her full attention from Hughie to him. What the fuck do you think it is.

I don’t know. She sighed, pulling Ben’s arms around her a little tighter. I mean, I have guesses, but-

What are they.

Ben could see Her teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, her fingers tapping against the back of his hand. They’re just theories, and none of them are concrete-

He grunted Her name in his head. Tell me your fucking theories.

They don’t-

If you say matter, I’ll crash the fucking car.

Grumpy. She gave him a fake pout, and Ben hauled her a little further up his chest, kissing the crook of Her neck.

Tell me. I won’t interrupt you, and you can talk them out. That always fucking helps you. 

Her fingers stilled against him, and when Ben pulled back she was watching him with something so gentle and adoring in her eyes it nearly fucking knocked him out. He could feel the full fucking force of Her love, crashing into his body and making everything so good. There was a soft smile playing on Her face, and Ben didn’t understand it. That was the smile she gave him when he said something supportive to Ryan, or grumbled an agreement with Butcher, or exchanged short, curt nods with MM. It was the smile She gave him when he made her pancakes, or proved he’d been listening to Her rant about nothing, or she caught him humming one of her songs in the shower, and none of his scowling or protests could deter her teasing.

I love you, Benjamin. Her voice was almost whispering in his head, and she reached up to trace the lines of his face. I really love you.

I fucking know that-

No, you don’t. She brushed hair from Ben’s eyes, and let out a small sigh. I love you so, so much. I love you, Ben. I really fucking love you.

Something felt almost fucking radiant in Ben’s body. It wasn’t the nuke, because that felt violent and hateful and still fucking painful, even within Ben’s control. This was comfortable and open and so fucking painfully glorious it might drive him mad. It was so goddamn strange, and easy, and he’d felt it before but not quite like this. This felt like when he’d rested against Her, but without any of the pain or the lump of failure in his throat. So—though he still didn’t fully fucking understand what she meant, Ben did know She loved him and never fucking doubted it—he nodded, and dropped his face back to her neck. I love you too, Sunshine. Talk.

It could be an apartment or house that the feds missed. It’s likely Edgar’s and not Vought’s, because if it’s important enough to hide Vought would’ve already taken it. Sage would’ve taken it. Maybe it’s an incredibly well-kept secret, and Sage is looking for it, and that’s why Edgar wants it now. But if it’s that, it’s probably not a house, because what would Sage need with a house. I don’t think it’s going to be something small, because Cornucopia implies plenty, and Edgar isn’t someone who misuses words. My bet is on a warehouse that Edgar’s keeping a lot of shit in. Vanessa seemed worried about what we’d do with it, which makes me think it’s something dangerous. She turned Her head, resting it against Ben’s. But that’s all I have.

Ben rolled his eyes. Still a fuck ton more than everyone else.

Shut up. She whacked Ben’s arm lightly, and he could feel her smile brushing against his forehead. What’s your bet.

My money is on your fucking money, darling.

That’s very sweet, but not the slightest bit helpful.

Tough shit, I’m not changing my answer. Ben nipped at Her slightly, smirking at the small squeak that left her lips. You’re the smartest one here by a damn mile. Money on you is safe fucking money.

Love has made you stupid, Benjamin.

No. He drew back up, his grin unrestrained as he took in Her perfect, pretty face, and her sharp, amused eyes, and all Her fucking love and adoration for, and knew that all of it was fucking his. Ben got to have this. He loved Her like she deserved, so he got to be the one she looked at with a smile and watched like he was everything. Love has made me smart as fuck. Which is why I know to put money on you, beautiful. Because you’re always fucking right.

They were so fucking close, Ben’s breath passing into her mouth, and Christ, She was going to kill him. Her lips had parted slightly, her hands over Ben’s arms—holding them in their rightful place against Her—gripping him like she was going to fall down, and She wanted him. Her thighs were rubbing for friction against his body, and her heartbeat had picked up, and Ben was going to fuck Her in the back of the limo. Everyone else was just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because She fucking wanted Ben and he wasn’t capable of denying her anything. 

Then MM said Her name, and Ben almost bit through this tongue at the way She squirmed above him and made his cock jump, and the way she was still holding onto him, and the fucking smell and feel of Her above him, and Christ he needed to fuck her-

“Catch,” MM grunted, and Ben grabbed the keys flying through the air before She even had time to react. “That wasn’t mean for you-“ 

“Shove it up your ass, MM.” Ben tucked the keys into Her pocket, holding MM’s glare. “What do you want.”

She pinched Ben’s arm. Rude, Benjamin-

He shouldn’t just fucking throw shit at you-

You throw things at me all the time- 

No, I don’t, you throw shit at me all the damn time, because you’re fucking mean to me- 

You’re invincible, Pretty Boy, I think you’ll survive some paper-

MM let out a loud, overdramatic cough. “If you can listen to me for five minutes, I’ll let you dumbasses brain-fuck each other all you want. Think you can make it five fucking minutes?”

Ben had no interest in making it five minutes, and She didn’t either. He’d shifted against Her, pressing himself into her ass, and her breath had hitched as her heart began to stumble in her chest. But She was too fucking kind and good and perfect, so She nodded, and MM continued. 

“You have to keep those on you,” he said, voice firm and jaw set. “And no making any moves with them until we’re all on board, this could be dangerous. That goes for everyone!” MM raised his voice, glare turning to the front of the limo. “That means you, motherfucker. No stealing the keys and going all vigilante!”

Butcher snorted from the front. “I ain’t the one for you to worry about, Mate. If anyone’s goin fuckin rogue, it’s Bonnie and Clyde over there.” 

“We’re not going to go rogue, Butcher.” She flipped off the divider between them and Butcher, a pretty glower on her face. “And if you try to steal the keys, I’ll burn your face off.”

“Fuckin shame, that’s my money maker-“ 

“Can we please not kill each other when there’s still two hours left of the drive?” Hughie had gone all fucking puppy-dog eyed—looking between Her and Butcher’s back like a whining child—and She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Hughie.” She turned back to MM, and She needed to stop wiggling around on Ben’s lap or he’d go fucking insane. “Is that it?” 

When MM nodded, She twisted back around, dropping Her head into Ben’s chest, and sighed. Ben let Her stay there as Hughie, Annie, and MM trailed off into a conversation he wasn’t paying attention to, tangling his fingers in Her hair and kneading at her skin. Her heartbeat was a soft, even hum in Her chest, and he didn’t need to feel Her fingers tapping on his back or hear the chew of her tongue to know She was thinking. He didn’t push it—waiting for Her to speak first—because She fit naturally against him, and nothing in him felt wrong, so She was okay. Just fucking thinking.

Benjamin? 

He hummed Her name back, between their heads, and she exhaled against him. 

We didn’t tell them about the V. The vial of it we found with the keys. 

Ben paused, glancing over at their team. Do you want to.

I don’t know. I, Her arms around him tightened, and She looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes with a frown. I don’t want to give it to Edgar. I don’t trust whatever intentions he has with it. But I don’t want to make more supes. It’s fighting fire with fire, and it’s not- She cut herself off, eyes roaming Ben’s face like she’d find an answer there. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair- 

I know, She sat up a little, hands moving to cup Ben’s jaw. I know this isn’t about fair. But it’s still not fucking fair. I know you asked for this, for the V, but I didn’t. No one else did. And that’s so fucking unfair. It’s so unfair, Ben, and I don’t, I mean. She took a long breath. You remember how much it hurt, I can’t do that to someone. Even for the mission.

He began to trace patterns on Her waist, studying her almost glossy, pleading eyes. She wasn’t spiraling—Her heartbeat was too steady—but she looked lost. Unsure and so fucking tired that it made Ben’s whole head heavy. 

And he needed to help. Ben needed to make this fucking better for Her, whatever it goddamn took.

Do you know why I volunteered for the Vought trials.

She paused, tilting her head at him. To impress your dad, Butcher told me before we woke you up.

Yeah. Ben let out a dry chuckle, holding Her gaze. Did the cockfuck tell you if it worked?

He said it didn’t. Her fingers began to play with the hair of Ben’s beard as She frowned at him. Why?

Because I did this shit to myself, I made myself Soldier Boy, and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. Everyone loved me, and nobody gave a fuck about me-

I give a fuck about you, She gave him a small, sweet, toothless smile, and Ben didn’t even fucking bother to stop himself from returning it. 

If you’d let me talk, brat, Ben drawled between their heads, dropping his brow to Hers. I’m fucking getting there. I missed my own mother’s funeral because my father somehow managed to outlive her, and I didn’t want to see his old, ugly, evil fucking face. My whole goddamn life was about being Soldier Boy, I never had a single pussy fucker I trusted, and I wasn’t aging so I decided to just keep damn waiting until this proved worth something. And you, he squeezed his arms around her, brushing his lips against Hers in a slight, soft motion. Are worth something. I waited a fucking lifetime, and I found it.

She made a small, choked sound, and Her eyes on Ben’s were filled with all that love he could feel everywhere around him. In Her, and traded between their body, and making everything so fucking good.

I love you, Her voice was soft in his head, her hands holding Ben’s head against Hers. But I don’t-

Ben had to spell it out for Her. He’d expected that. The one fucking thing she never seemed to get was that She was the whole fucking world, and Ben would follow her everywhere. I love you. I fucking adore you, and it’s not fair that you’re cleaning up all the goddamn messes I helped make in your name, before I even fucking knew you.

In my-

I was Soldier Boy to make this shit worth something. Everything I did was for whatever the fuck would be worth something, and that’s you. I was just a fucking dumbass who did it wrong. Love has made me smarter, Sunshine, because I’m doing it right now, but I still did it fucking wrong before. And I made messes, and now the woman I love has to clean them up because none of this shit is fucking fair. That V is my V, that they made to make you, and that’s it. Butcher might end up with us, but it’s you and me. We can flush that V down the toilet, or throw it off a fucking building, but that’s it. It’s not fair for you to make that call, so we’re taking it off the goddamn table.

She was silent for a second, and when She spoke she was combing her fingers through Ben’s hair, mouth dropped in a soft frown. You didn’t make these messes, Ben.

Yeah I know, fucking Homelander- 

No. She gave a small shake of her head. Not Homelander either. That's the worst part, I think. That all of this is so fucking unfair, and no one person can pay for it.

What the fuck are you talking about.

She sighed. I’m saying that I can’t blame anyone. That none of this is fair, and I can’t blame Homelander for all of it. Voguelbaum created him, and Stillwell enabled him, and- 

I fucking helped in making him- 

But they didn’t tell you to. And you didn’t make the system that he’s thrived in. You helped build it, to a degree, but not all of it. And I don’t blame you. I’ve told you that. I’ve never blamed you for how unfair this is, or what happened to me.

And I’ve told you that you fucking should- 

But I don’t. She searched his eyes, her own almost pleading. I really don’t. I love you, Benjamin, and I don’t really care for Soldier Boy, but I haven’t ever blamed you for this. Even before you were my Ben, I never blamed you.

He still didn’t fucking understand Her. She should blame him. This shit was unfair, and they both knew that fair didn’t matter, but Ben would still never be properly fucking worthy of Her. He’d never make up for how he’d set in motion things that had goddamn hurt her. But She was still curled in his lap, calling him mine, and looking at him like he was worth something. 

Why.

Do you know the Bhagavad Gita?

Ben gave Her a flat glare. You know goddamn well- 

It’s Hindu scripture. And there’s a really famous passage that says “I am become death, shatterer of worlds.” It means the soldier isn’t responsible for the deaths of the war. You were, sort of, a soldier. And you did benefit, and you were a real fucking asshole, but you were willingly blind. You committed atrocious, and didn’t think twice, because that’s what soldiers are meant to do. You aren’t a victim, but these messes aren’t just yours. A lot of people helped you make them. Vought gave you compound V, and the government signed off on the trials, and your father told you that you were worthless and you wanted a way to prove him wrong. You were an unstable dick, but you didn’t tell them the solution was to make Homelander. And you didn’t raise Homelander, or tell him to hurt me. You’ve been one of the only people who’s tried to stop him from hurting me, and that’s why I don’t blame you. Many, many people contributed to this, and none of them have ever repented. You’re repenting, and this will always be fucking unfair, but it’s you and me. You’re not a soldier anymore. You’re fighting for people you care about instead of power or glory, and you’re trying to help me fix this, and I love you. And that’s what matters.

She was fucking perfect. Ben hadn’t followed half the damn words She passed down their connection, but he understood the gist. She was still too good, too kind, too fucking forgiving, and She loved him. This wasn’t fucking fair, but he was doing everything in his goddamn power to make it easier for Her, and she fucking loved him. Ben bumped Her nose with his, and a smile tugged at her lips.

Lot of smart fucking words to say you love me and don’t blame me.

Well, you weren’t fucking getting it, Pretty Boy. That’s not my fault. She pressed a light kiss to Ben’s check, humming against his beard. Thank you.

Don’t-

Nope. Thank you. I love you, and thank you.

Ben sighed, and let it the fuck go. He had a lifetime to finally get Her to stop fucking thanking him for things he was supposed to be doing. He was meant to love Her, and listen to her, and hold her like this, so she needed to stop fucking pretending it was some sort of labor he needed thanks for. But for now, as Her head dropped down to his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck—warm breath fanning over his skin, a light touch tracing over his bicep—Ben let this be enough. She—all by her goddamn self—was more than fucking enough, and so he dropped it.

I love you too. He muttered in Her head, something relaxing and blooming in his chest as she smiled against him. Whatever the hell you want to do with the V, we’ll do it. And my vote is flushing it down the goddamn toilet. You and I are strong enough to kick Homelander’s pussy dick into his asshole all by our goddamn selves.

Her nose wrinkled. Gross.

Shut up. He moved his hand to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair until she was molded against him. You fucking love it.

I do. There was a moment of silence, Her fingers still tracing over Ben’s skin before resting against his chest. Ben?

He grunted, keeping his hand around her and against Her in steady patterns. Circles on her hips and hair wrapped between his fingers, her skin soft under his touch and heartbeat in an even rhythm Ben knew better than his own.

You’re worth something to me as well. 

I know-

No. Let me finish. She pushed up on him, holding his gaze with an almost anguished intensity. You’re worth everything to me. You are everything to me. I love you and adore you and I give so many fucks about you it’s insane. You’re my whole life, Benjamin, now and after. And you make all of this worth something for me as well.

The radiant warmth was everywhere inside of him now, but it was fed by the ache. The way Her voice in his head was pleading, like she needed Ben to understand, and if he didn’t it might hurt her. The way Her hands were curled in his shirt as she held herself up—like she was forcing herself not to collapse against him—and her words were wrapping over Ben’s body and seeping in his skin, all of it born from Her love for him. And it all made the ache in him slide into his throat, and tug at his tongue to say a million fucking things he didn’t have words for.

Simple was easier. The only words that never failed to make Her smile, and set her heart back to an even rhythm. The only thing he fully knew how to be certain of in the entire goddamn universe.

I love you, Sunshine.

Her face split into a soft, gentle smile. I love you too, Benjamin.

She fucking loved him, and that was rooted so deeply inside of Ben that he’d never stray from it. It made him stronger, holding him in a place he knew and loved and wanted to defend. He pulled Her a little higher up his torso, dropping his head to top of her chest and just fucking living there. Where her heartbeat was the loudest, and everything felt fucking good.

They’d worry about all this shit later. They had a whole fucking day ahead of them to worry about Singer and Her stepfather, and Homelander and Mallory and Edgar. And they’d spent months that felt like lives worrying about all these fucking messes, and Ben had spent lives before that making them without ever resting, or feeling fucking satiated by it.

He was satiated here. Leaning into her, with Her legs wrapped around his body and her head resting over his. Her body was slumped over him, every hitched breath when Ben ran a hand up her thigh or traced down her spine brushing against Ben’s ear, and this felt right. This felt fucking right, and Ben didn’t think he’d felt something this plainly natural in his life. It kept amazing him—over and fucking over—how he’d spent his whole life tearing things apart when all he’d had to do was fucking wait. It had made it easier when She’d been away from him and asked him to just wait for Her, because he had a lifetime of goddamn practice waiting for Her already. Waiting for something that wasn’t fucking salvation—because She hadn’t fixed him or saved him, that was fucking stupid—but better.

She wasn’t a cure. She was too silently wrathful to be a cure, made of too many sharp, spiking parts that she cut off for others to consume for Her to be a cure. She wasn’t for others, she just didn’t know how not to be. She was something that was meant to be worshipped, that had been made into a fucking offering. Turned into something like a cure, but never able to do it right, because it’s not what she was supposed to be.

Cures were made for something deadly and diseased. And Ben wasn’t a fucking saint, but he wasn’t sick. He’d just been angry. He’d been furious and bitter and vigilant, so he’d made himself lonely half by choice and half by how vicious his bite was when he was wronged.

She bit too. She didn’t cower or maul or run. She just bit back, and Her bite was a match to his. Less brute force, but more targeted. Right into Ben’s neck, and feeding something in him he hadn’t known was hungry. So She wasn’t a fucking cure, because cures took things away. She’d made him more. Given him something he’d always wanted, and never known existed. And now Ben would always be hungry, but he’ll be satiated. He found purpose. He’d had waited his whole fucking life for purpose, and it was Her. This was a goddamn purpose, something he was meant to do and be and have and give.

Are you hungry?

Ben leaned back, meeting Her eyes with a frown. What. 

I’m thinking about dinner. We’re staying in a hotel tonight, and the meeting with Singer isn’t until the morning, and I’m hungry. 

She gave him a fake pout, and Ben seriously fucking considered throwing Butcher out of the car to get Her to a fucking McDonalds. She probably liked McDonalds, everyone fucking liked McDonalds, and she always ate Ben’s burgers, so it wasn’t like they’d get fucked by the menu.

Just in case, he asked, What do you want?

She hummed, her fingers tapping against Ben’s jaw. What do hotels usually have? Lobster? Do they have lobster? 

Fancy hotels have lobster. And if this one doesn’t, I’ll find you some- 

Ben. She gave him a flat look, even as Her love swept through him like a wildfire. Where are you going to find me lobster. 

I don’t fucking know, the ocean- 

We’re on a river, those don’t have lobsters. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Fine, smartass, another restaurant- 

They’d make you pay for that, Pretty Boy, and we’re broke. If you keep losing bets at this rate, you’ll be on dish duty until after we kill Homelander.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do, they won’t forgive my debts like they do yours- 

Because you lose all the time. She shrugged, dropping Her brow to Ben’s as she smiled at him. And I cover you, when I have the money. 

We should both have the fucking money. Ben’s hands gripped Her body against him, and she must have read his next thought on his face, because She frowned and shook her head. 

Do not use the meeting with Singer to demand a pay raise, Benjamin. That’s not what it’s for. 

It’s not a pay raise, my love, it’s a fucking union. You and I aren’t going to do more of their shit for them until they give us some goddamn money- 

We both know we’re not going to unionize. She sighed, her breath passing into Ben’s m. We might not be legally dead anymore, but we’re still not CIA employees. 

We should be-

You’d have to do an interview with Mallory. Amusement danced in Her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. And they’d run a background check. You can’t even do a background check, Benjamin, your social security number is negative five. 

Shut up. I am not fucking old, and we still need some goddamn money. I’ll tongue Butcher’s taint before I become these pussies fucking maid-

We’ll make money. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Ben’s mouth. If escorts don’t pan out, we can try birthday parties. I know a guy who has a very authentic Soldier Boy costume, and I think he’ll let me borrow it if I give him a blowjob.

Ben snorted. He’d let you borrow it if you asked him real pretty and made him a bagel, Sunshine, but I’m not doing fucking birthday parties- 

You wouldn’t even have to talk. I’d stand behind a curtain, and I can say everything for you. The kids would never know the difference. She grinned as Her voice in Ben’s head dropped to that gravelly impression of him. Hi, I’m Soldier Boy. New York. Eagles. Baseball. Boobs. Don’t do crack, kids, do Benzedrine. Don’t wear blue, it’s a pussy color, wear green. And if you’re ever in a fight, go for the other guy’s dick. I’m a million fucking years old, and I sing Rainbow Connection in the shower when I think nobody can hear, and I know you can fucking hear me Sunshine, but you don’t goddamn count-

Ben buried his head in Her neck, sucking and biting that one spot until her words trailed off into a tiny whimper.

Brat.

Cunt. Her voice was soft and needy, and Ben smirked against Her, kissing a wet trail up her jaw and over her face. Ben-

I love you so fucking much, Sunshine. He kissed around her pretty, already open mouth, trailing his tongue over her lips. And if we didn’t have company, I’d fuck you right here.

Ben felt Her heartbeat pick up under his careful, firm touches, but she didn’t pull away. We get our own room tonight, She let out a small, breathy sigh as Ben deepened the kiss. If you can keep it in your pants for a little while longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

How much longer.

She pulls away from him slightly, reaching between their bodies to grab Her phone. She paused as she swiped at Her screen, looking up at Ben with a frown. We really need to get you another phone-

Later. How much longer until I get to fuck you. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. Horny old man- 

Needy fucking brat. Ben shifted Her above him, letting his half-hard cock push between Her thighs, gritting his teeth as her legs tightened around him. How much- 

An hour. She dropped her phone back between their bodies, wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck and lowering her face so their cheeks brushed. Think you can make it? 

Ben scoffed, moving one hand down to squeeze at Her ass and smirking at her soft squeak in his ear. I’ll manage, Sunshine. 

He wasn’t going to manage. They fell into an easy silence, Her body curled over Ben’s and her hands playing thoughtlessly with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the longer they stayed like that the more he needed her. She still smelled like that flower shampoo, but there was grass lingering over it, and a third smell that invaded Ben’s senses and so clearly just fucking Her. It was like the goddamn apples in their apartment, and chocolate, and warm smoke and the fucking sun. Ben didn’t have a better way to put it, because really it was just fucking Her. Like an aphrodisiac or song that tugged on something in his brain and called him home. Back to Her, closer to Her, always with Her.

It probably fucking was Her. That piece of her that was alive inside of him, growing stronger and stronger the longer it stayed. 

Ben had no fucking intention of letting it leave. If holding Her like this—sitting in complete goddamn silence and caring for every perfect piece of her in his arms and mind—was what this part of Her needed to thrive, he’d hold her like this forever. She lived in Ben because he was safe to her. She given this part of her to him—even if She hadn’t actually meant to—and he’d never fail Her and let it feel pain. 

He fucking loved Her, and she was all around him in every fucking way but the one that was starting to strain at his pant, and that sense of her everywhere wasn’t doing him any favors to make it through the hour. He wanted to make that piece of Her light up inside him, watch her perfect, beautiful face grow blissfully relaxed and adoring as he worshiped Her. Prove to Her that he thought she was too fucking kind and good for anyone at all, but he’d never let Her be wrong about him. If She said that Ben was repenting, he’d do whatever trial was laid out before him to prove Her right.

But as much as he wanted to bury himself deep inside of Her and mutter praise he meant and promises he’d always fucking keep, the hum of Her heart was growing slower and softer, and Ben realized she’d fallen asleep. He could feel a small amount of drool on his neck—her hair tickling his nose and her grip on his neck becoming slack—and he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face. She was fucking safe here, where Ben was allowed to touch her in small ways that made her hum in sleep against his skin. Where he could trace patterns on Her hips, keep a steady arm around her waist, and let a hand move slowly up her spine to tangle in her hair until she fell further into him was a content sigh. Ben kept his breathing even and slow, his eyes on the rest of their team in a warning of keep it the fuck down, or I’ll crack your head open, so nothing could disturb her sleep.

She didn’t have a single fucking nightmare. No smoke rose from Her body, and no distressed, strangled sounds escaped her mouth. Everything in Ben felt right and a little high, so he knew she was really, truly, really fucking good. And when the limo finally stopped and Butcher turned to address them from the front, Ben’s respect for their team fucking doubled as a chorus of hissed be quiets filled the limo.

Butcher scoffed. “She’s a big girl, she don’t need a nap-“

“Butcher,” MM whispered, his tone and expression venomous. “If you wake her up, I’m not going to stop Soldier Boy from killing you.” 

“Oh, come off it, Mate-“ 

“She never sleeps well, you asshole,” Annie’s voice was hushed, her eyes turning to Ben’s. “When was the last time she had a real, full night of sleep?” 

Ben couldn’t fucking remember. Even after she’d stopped taking the suppressants, she still woke up screaming and wrapped and fire and sobbing about fucking blood. She fell back asleep easier now, but Ben had received countless fucking burns across his arms and face as he held Her down, trying to bring her back to earth before she flew off the bed and burned right through the fucking roof. She always healed the twisted for him if they weren’t gone by morning, and Ben always fucked Her after to chase off any useless goddamn guilt in her eyes, but it kept happening. He didn’t know how to fix it, other than only staying, just like she’d asked. 

Annie must have seen the clench of his jaw—images of Her perfect face empty and hollow and broken flashing in Ben’s brain, echoes of her screams ringing in his ears—because she turned back to Butcher with a glare. “You just have to lower your voice, Butcher. Don’t be a dick.”

Butcher’s attention darted to Her—still steadily asleep against Ben—and rolled his eyes as he dropped his voice. “We got four rooms, and all the lovey dovey cunts will be sharin.” Butcher threw keycards to MM and Ben, who caught their’s with ease, and Hughie, who made a small yelp as Annie’s arm shot out, catching it for him. “Meetin with Singer is at 8am, and we got to be there at 7. You lot will meet me here at 6, and I don’t want to see your sorry fuckin faces until then.”

Ben could live with that. It was a little past midnight, and six hours of sleep was a fuck ton more than She usually got, so he’d take it and rest at Her side until morning. He shifted Her in his arms—moving her carefully up his chest, looping one arm under her knees—and carried her out of the limo, into the back entrance of the hotel, and up the stairs. MM had grabbed their suitcase, and Ben gave him a silent, firm nod as MM pushed into their room.

A hand shot out before Ben could kick the door closed, and MM’s gaze bore into Ben’s skull, his voice low. “She okay?” 

She would be. As long as Ben could do a goddamn thing about it, She’d be okay for the rest of her fucking life. “She’s good,” Ben grunted, glancing down to Her perfect, peaceful face, half smushed into his shoulder, hair falling over her eyes. So fucking beautiful, and happily where she belonged. “I’m taking care of her.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. It certainly wasn’t for MM’s fucking approval, because the only person whose approval mattered was Hers. And Ben did take care of Her. He took very fucking good care of Her, because he fucking loved her, and she was the most important person in the world. And he sure as fuck didn’t need to say that he took care of Her, because he proved that he did in his every waking moment. 

Even right fucking now Ben was carrying her to bed, holding Her like she was something holier than life—she was—and planning to stay at Her side all night. Wrap his arms around her and hold her in the dark, then march at her side in the morning to face whatever the hell Singer had ready for them. And then he’d figure out where they kept lobster in DC, and get her some. And that’s what fucking mattered. Showing Her she was good. Only saying he was taking care of her wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing if he didn’t keep doing it, over and over and over until they were the last people left in the world, and a long while after that.

But MM gave a short nod, and Ben realized that the man had just believed him. MM might not fully trust Ben—and if he was being completely fucking honest that was still an understandable call, Ben would shoot everyone in the fucking head if they became a threat to Her or Ryan—but he trusted Ben with this. With Her. He trusted that when Ben said she’s good, he was telling the truth. 

And he was. With a muttered reminder from MM not to be late in the morning and the door closing—leaving Ben and Her alone, together with the nightlights of the city casting shadows over her sleeping features—She was happy. Content as Ben laid her down on the bed, keeping one hand on her thigh as he unzipped their suitcase. He found one of his softer shirts and—a little selfishly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad or give a fuck because She wore his clothing all the goddamn time anyway—changed her into it. She shouldn’t sleep in fucking jeans or her bra, so Ben carefully stripped her down—every movement debilitate and slow and silent so as not to disturb or wake her—and pulled his shirt over her body, kissing her brow before sitting at the edge of their bed and trying to figure out how the fuck to get them food.

This wasn’t the same hotel as last time, but shit had always worked the same at every hotel in history, so Ben figured it out. He read the directory, called room service, and ordered everything.

“And, um,” a nervous, soft-voiced woman was on the other end of the line, listing off more shit for Ben to add to his list. “Would you like dessert, sir?”

“Of course I want fucking dessert-“

Don’t be mean to the hotel staff, Benjamin. Ben cut himself off as Her arms wrapped around his torso, and looked down to see her head in his lap, her face buried in his abdomen. They’re doing their best, and it’s late. 

Ben sighed, letting his free hand wander into her hair, and grunted into the phone, “dessert is good. Add it.” 

“Do you have anything in mind, or would you like, um, all of it too?” 

Sunshine- 

I’d like ice cream. She hummed against him, and Ben felt her soft smile against his body. Whatever flavor you want. 

“Ice cream,” Ben muttered, his eyes locked on Her, tucked and resting against him, so fucking perfect. “Vanilla. Two of them.” 

A small giggle escaped Her. You’re very predictable, Pretty Boy. 

Shut the fuck up. 

“That will come to,” Ben heard the lady on the other end swallow, and there was a moment of static silence on the phone. “$492. Are you sure-“

“Get me the fucking food lady, and I’ll give you a 20% tip.” 

Ben had no idea how much that would be, but the woman seemed happy with it, because she gave him an eager agreement before hanging up the line. 

“Food will be here soon,” Ben muttered Her name, and his heart might’ve stopped fucking working when she rolled over in his lap, a beautiful, sleepy expression on her perfect face. “You’re-“ 

“Don’t say tired, or I’ll punch you.” She grumbled, poking at Ben’s chest with a pout. “You’re not allowed to do that right now.”

“I didn’t do fucking shit-”

“You were going to,” she mumbled, face flushing. “You were going to make me go to sleep.” 

“We both know,” Ben drawled, smirking as he traced his thumb over her lips. “That I can’t make you do anything, darling. You never fucking listen to me.”

She buried her face back into Ben’s body, words muffled against his skin. “Fuck you.”

“I did promise to.” He hummed, glancing at the red numbers on their bedside table, reading 12:49. “But you need fucking sleep. We’re moving real damn early tomorrow, and you-“

“How early?”

“Six.”

She sighed against him, and Ben felt the alarm of wrong. Something is very wrong, because She’s hurting and that’s the worst fucking thing in the universe. 

He grunted Her name, pulling lightly at her hair. “Look at me.” 

When She rolled fully onto her back—Her eyes not hollow, but glossed over and soft—she just watched him. Waited for Ben to speak, one of her hands reaching up to touch his jaw, the whole fucking world just them. Together.

“What’s wrong. And don’t say nothing-“

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.” She whispered, and Ben froze. She sounded so fucking tired, and it was wrapping around his head and dragging his body down. Down to Her, to soothe her, to touch her and fucking fix this. “I know we have to, but I don’t want to, Ben. I’m,” she took a heavy breath. “I don’t want to.” 

“Then we fucking won’t.” He snapped. It was pretty goddamn simple. He’d steal them a car, and they’d drive home. The rest of the team could handle this, and that was fucking that- 

“We need to.” She gave Ben a small, sad smile, and he felt like someone was fucking stabbing him. “You know we need to. I have to be there for this-“ 

“You don’t have to-“ 

“I do.” She sat up, twisting until their legs were tangled and she was leaning against him, holding Ben’s face in her hands. “I have to. I need to see him.” 

Ben's arms wrapped around Her body as he scanned over her face. Only inches from his, so goddamn sad and tired, a so fucking beautiful. “Muller.”

She nodded, and Ben’s was going to break his teeth. For that pussies' own sake, Muller better be too much of a goddamn coward to show face tomorrow, or Ben would damn the consequences and kill him. V or no V, he was still someone that was fucking hurting Her. As She spoke her voice was too quiet, and her eyes looked so goddamn far away, and Ben felt fucking sick.

“He never,” She swallowed, and Ben remained silent. Right now his job was to fucking listen, and he was damn good at it. Rubbing circles on her lower back, holding whatever of her gaze she gave him, and watching her the whole time. “He never acknowledged I was dead. Or alive. Or anything.” She sighed, leaning her brow against Ben’s. “I don’t want to talk to him, Ben. I don’t want to hear what he believes.”

“Believes-“ 

“About me.” She mumbled, Her eyes closed and heartbeat not fast, but uneven. “What Homelander and Sage have said, what Annie’s said, and-“ She shook her head, nose brushing Ben’s. “Everything. All of it. What I’ve done, and what happened to me. Who I might be, if I’m a whore, or bitch, or liar, or traitor-”

Ben muttered Her name, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke. “You’re not any of that. He’s not your fucking family. He’s a worthless pussy, and if he believes the wrong shit it doesn’t change the goddamn truth.”

“I know. I know, it doesn’t, but-“ 

“No.” Ben moved at hand up, pulling one of Hers off his face as kissing her knuckles. “No fucking but-“ 

“Please,” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben’s whole body hurt as he fell silent.“I’m not worried about Muller, Ben. I’m worried about my,” Her hand tangled in Ben’s, her grip like iron as she took a long breath. “I’m worried about my mom. He’s just an extension of her, and whatever he believes-” 

She cut Herself off with a half-sob, and Ben let smoke curl between their fingers, not flinching away as heat started to burn his skin. He’d hold Her through this fall and catch Her at the end. He’d always fucking catch her, but he knew she had to fall first. Ben had to hear everything spiraling through her insane, perfect brain so he could get his words fucking right when it was his turn to speak.

“I,” She took a shaking breath, and there was something tight and curled in her throat that Ben could feel. “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years, and I shouldn’t care, and I’ve had worse things-“ She made another strangled noise, her heart bouncing around her ribs. “Worse things happen to me since. But it still hurts, everything hurts. She said I wasn’t strong enough to be alone, Homelander said I’m not strong enough, and I’m not, Ben, I’m not. I’m so tired. And I’m so sick of being tired, but I’m not, I’m not strong enough to just fucking be better-“

That was enough. Ben had all he fucking needed to pull Her back down, and he’d be damned if he let Her think for another fucking second that she wasn’t fucking everything. 

“You don’t need to be fucking better, you are better.” Ben tilted his head up, her words falling into soft tears that made something flail around in his gut, and kissed the space between her eyes as he muttered against her skin. “No matter fucking what, you’re better. You’re not whatever the fuck they think you are. Any of them. They don’t know you, Sunshine, I fucking know you. And you’re smart and good and kind and beautiful and a goddamn powerful fucking problem and you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect, so stop being stupid.”

She made a choked sound, fully falling against him, and as her arms wrapped around Ben’s neck all Her love bloomed in his body. It hurt, it fucking ripped him apart inside as she sobbed into him, shaking slightly in his hands and clinging to him like he was an anchor. Something holding Her together, that she trusted to keep her safe, and She fucking did. Because Ben folded his body over hers, and touched her right, and waited for this to pass. It always fucking passed, and they both knew it would return, but then they’d just wait it out together once more. Every single fucking thing would pass but them. She’d stay planted in Ben, covering everything in him and the world, and if they burned they’d burn together. And that was where the love in her made this pain worth it by a million fucking fold. Because this hurt—this killed Ben and lined cracks along his skull, twisting and rotting something in his heart—but then it passed, and everything was warm. Turning the rot to smoke, healing every crack, and spreading through Ben’s veins like a fucking drug. Like something sacred, that everyone chased but Ben got to have. That he’d somehow managed to earn, just by loving Her and caring for her and staying.

So when this passed, and Her breathing still ragged but her heart growing even, Her voice in Ben’s head was soft but not weak. She couldn’t be fucking weak if she tried. I’m sorry.

Before Ben could grunt between them for her to never fucking apologize, She looked up at him with a beautiful, full-lipped, toothless smile, her face glistening with evaporated tears. 

What’s- 

I don’t think this is how meeting the parents is supposed to go. I think we’re supposed to have dinner at an Olive Garden and not talk about Homelander at all.

Ben snorted, kissing the top of Her head. I don’t give fuck about Olive Garden- 

That’s not very family-oriented of you, Benjamin- 

And I don’t give a fuck about your parents. I care about you, Sunshine, and I have no fucking interest in impressing idiots pussies who don’t. 

Her love was fucking infinite in Ben’s body, and nobody had ever fucking looked at him like that but Her. Like She believed him, but didn’t believe he was real. Would you, um, I mean I know we’ve been keeping Violet away from this, but after, my dad and my other siblings- 

He grunted Her name between them, and a pretty flush covered her face. Whoever you want me to meet, I will. But if I think they’re being asshole cockheads, I’m not fucking standing for it. I love you, and nobody is allowed to tell you who the fuck you are- 

You tell me who I am all the time, She gave him an amused look. You literally just told me who I was.

Ben rolled his eyes. That’s not the fucking same. I’m not a pussy dumb fuck talking out of my ass, you’re the love of my fucking life and you were being an idiot. You’re not weak, and I’m not going to let people who don’t goddamn know shit tell you that you are- 

She kissed him, soft and sweet, her hands gliding up his chest to hold his jaw. Thanksgivings are going to be really awkward, if you call my family a bunch of fucking pussies the whole time.

Ben smirked against her. Good thing those pussies aren’t invited to our thanksgiving.

Who is-

Nobody. It’s going to be me, you, and a massive fucking sex marathon. 

She giggled, and even though the sound was quiet, it was real. She was fucking happy, here, with Ben. Not even going to pretend we’ll invite our friends? 

No. Ben twisted his face in half-mocked disgust. We’re going to need the entire goddamn turkey to ourselves, to make sure you have enough energy. I will not have you fucking tagging out before we get started. 

All I hear, She pulled back, and that was Her full smile. Her wide, infinite smile that contained the whole universe and was made of something so fucking bright and vital Ben would never find anything like it if he tried. Is that you’re not denying they’re our friends. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Impossibly clever, beautiful, perfect fucking woman, backing him into corners and knowing him too fucking well. He didn’t have an argument out of it, because if he said they weren’t she’d push it and win—something starting with our friends care about me, and ending with and you trust them with Ryan and I—and if he just agreed he’d never hear the goddamn end of it, so his only avenue was to roll her onto her back, leaving sloppy, wet kiss all over her face as she laughed and let out blissful sighs, muttering brat and fucking love you, Sunshine against her skin and down her throat right up until someone knocked on the door.

Her eyes grew comically wide as Ben dumped their order of food on the hotel table, her face falling into a plainly adorable gape as she looked up at him. “Did you order thanksgiving? I can’t eat all of this-“

“Then take whatever the fuck you want,” Ben looped his arm around Her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned onto his shoulder. “And I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”

She smiled at him, tilting her head to kiss his cheek, and hummed against him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a dog.”

He scowled. “I am not a fucking dog-“

“You are, my love. You’re a massive fucking puppy, and I adore you.” 

Ben is pretty goddamn sure his heart stopped working and then got jumpstarted within the same fucking millisecond. She’d tugged herself away from him—filling up one of the paper plates hotel services had brought up before shuffling back to the bed, waiting for Ben to join her with a patient, expectant gaze—and he had to make his feet move. He’d wanted to stay there for the rest of his fucking life, where She’d called him my love, and he’d understood why her heart always skipped when Ben said it. He was Her’s. Every single fucking part of Ben was Her’s, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about the dog comment, because She was fucking right. He’d follow her everywhere, and snarl at what threatened her, and taking whatever fucking scraps she offered him of her love.

He’d never have enough of Her love. It was better than any drug or drink or high, and it was for Ben. It was all goddamn his, and if that meant he had to be a fucking pathetic dog for Her, then so goddamn be it. Anyone would do that, love Her how she asked, because it made Her fucking smile and chased off the pain faster.

And Ben had learned that, in his life, he’d really only despised two people. He’d hated a lot of people, but that was hatred born of vengeance and a sour, white-hot fury that had festered in his body for most of his life and found an avenue out through the drums. Despising people wasn’t the same. It was born of true, raw, pure disgust and loathing. A channel for that fury that wasn’t about Ben’s own anger, but about twisting and morphing the fury into ardor and zealous protection. Turning the drums and wrath into something better, that targeted the only two pussy fucking idiots who made Her fucking cry. The only two asshole cum-fucks who knew exactly how to hurt Her, and weaponized it, making Her sob against Ben as she broke.

Nobody made Her fucking cry but Homelander and her mother. She made herself cry sometimes, but that wasn’t the fucking same. That was born of how much She cared and loved everything, and how she seemed to remember every goddamn thing anyone ever said and took it as gospel—when it fucking wasn’t—to who she was. When Homelander and her mother made Her cry, it was born of something evil. Something evil and cold and horrid and covered in bile and guts to carve her open. 

Ben would kill Homelander, if not for the world, for Her. And despite the truth that he had no fucking interest in trying to entertain anyone in Her life who made her fucking cry like that, he still wanted to meet her mother. Not to kill her, but just put the fear of God in her. Make the woman understand that her daughter was a goddamn miracle on Earth, and Ben was going to love Her until it was just them in a ruined world, watching the stars and laying in the grass and smiling. He’d love her like the perfect, dangerous, beautiful thing that had crawled to him covered in blood and dirt and grime that she was, wrapped in fire and still seeking warmth. Ben wanted to sneer at Her mother to never try to fucking bother them, because if the woman said one wrong thing to Her, Ben wouldn’t tolerate it. There wasn’t a fucking chance he was letting anyone make her look all fucking sad, when She was meant to be happy. He might not cut out tongues when people misstepped, but he’d stay wrapped around Her, a silent reminder to the world—to Her mother—that Ben loved Her, and she’d always fucking have him. However She wanted Ben, she’d get him. 

Ben would always hate that she never got to meet his mother, because they’d have fucking loved each other. His mother would’ve liked Her, a bit because everyone fucking liked Her, but mostly because She was better than Ben was. She was better thanany other pussy in the universe, and She was smart, and kind, and clever, and the type of beautiful his mother would’ve said made gods jealous. That was what his mother had always said he should find, even after he’d become Soldier Boy,and he’d never fucking gotten what the hell it meant before Her. He’d had countless beautiful women in his bed, and not one would’ve made gods jealous. They were just beautiful. There was so much fucking beauty in the world, and Soldier Boy got all of it, and Ben had decided that the made gods jealous shit was just something a mother told her son. 

He got it now though. She was the type of beauty that made gods fucking jealous. Because she was the type of beautiful they wrote stories about, made art and castles and temples for, and searched through the world to learn more words for beauty just to fucking compare Her to. And all the beauty in the universe lived inside of Her, and she was fucking perfect. So Ben’s mother would’ve loved Her, because she carried Ben’s whole fucking world just by existing. He’d have sat in silence as they talked about whatever the fuck mothers and daughters talked about, and She’d have hit him halfway through the conversation to ask him his opinion, then made a joke about his opinion with joy and love in Her eyes and Ben’s body, and he’d have smiled at Her, and when they stood up to leave his mother would’ve hugged Her and that would’ve been it. It would’ve confirmed something that Ben already fucking knew, but still wanted his mother to know as well. 

And something still sour and angry in Ben wished he could introduce Her to his father. One, quick meeting just to say fuck you, you old pussy. I am worth something, because I’m repenting, and I’m fighting for people I care about, and the most perfect woman in fucking history loves me, and she’s never wrong. Ben wouldn’t let his father speak to Her—he barely deserved to be in Her presence—but he’d brag about her. Tell his father that She was a brilliant fucking woman, and a fucking doctor, and never took any goddamn shortcuts, and She loved Ben. To tell his father that their last name would die with him, and he’d rot in a grave for the rest of time while She and Ben were fucking happy, and Ben gave her the world. 

He’d give this perfect fucking menace—curled at his side, wearing his shirt and eating chicken nuggets like a fucking animal—whatever she wanted or needed and asked for. His lungs and heart and guts out of his body, the sun to hold in her hands, a hundred fucking trees planted in her name. Ben would offer his life on a silver platter for Her to do whatever she pleased with it, which is why he almost snorted when She started stealing looks at his food, chewing on her lips and eyeing his fries like she hadn’t just practically fucking inhaled her own. 

He dumped them onto her plate without a word, and when Her face lit up with joy he didn’t fucking understand how anyone could fucking think to hurt Her. He was a little bias—not everyone was as fucking genius as Ben was to love her, or strong enough to be loved by her—but he still just didn’t goddamn get it. How a single goddamn pussy fucker could look at Her and consider being cruel to her. Even when he thought back to the beginning, Ben had never wanted to hurt her. He’d found Her annoying, and been mad about the whole borderline blackmailing shit, but he’d never wanted to make her cry. Her crying had always set off something primal and feral and confusing in his body, making his every thought this is fucking wrong. Something like Her shouldn’t hurt or be in pain. 

Ben coughed, and her pretty eyes shot up to meet his with a little bit of sauce hanging on her lip. Sauce that Ben got to wipe off with his thumb, eat, and smirk as Her mouth remained parted and her heart kicked into a faster gear.

“Ben-“

“I haven’t had a thanksgiving since the 50s.” Ben grunted, and wasn’t fucking sure where this was coming from. All he did know was that She fell silent to listen, and the words started to fucking vomit out of him, and he needed Her to understand that She was his family. That he’d never allow himself to be someone who made her cry. “And it was fucking shit. Food was fine, drinks were weak, and I went because my mother begged me to. Nobody seemed to get why I was there, my own family didn’t fucking know me because my father didn’t let my mom talk about me, and all I did the whole night was answer fucking Soldier Boy questions.” 

She blinked at him. “What are Soldier Boy questions?” 

“What was the war like,” Ben grunted. “If I shoot you will it hurt. Think you can fucking outdrink me or beat me in a race. Elvis and Sinatra a good time, Garland a good fuck. I wore my fucking supe suit there because I’d be shipping off to film some fucking movie in the morning, and my father didn’t look at me the whole time. I left early, and that was the fucking end of it. But,” Ben swallowed, and suddenly this was impossibly fucking difficult. He had to get this right. “I’d try it again. I could kill a turkey and you could burn it, and if you want the team we could fuck after they leave-“

“Ben.”

He cut himself off, and Her smile was so simply fucking sweet. It wasn’t the syrupy, over exaggerated and slightly crude one she gave when people tried to make her be nice when the situation didn’t fucking call for it. This was all fucking love and affection and want for Ben.

“When we get to November,” she whispered, and Ben’s whole body was frozen in place. As if, should he blink, he’d miss a single word or moment of her love. “I’d love to do thanksgiving with you and the team. I’d love to do anything with you, except killing the turkey.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s gross.”

She’d love to do anything with him. She’d love to do anything with Ben.

“Good,” he muttered, moving their plates off to the side and pulling her with him towards the headboard, moving her to rest between his legs, his arms wrapping over her stomach as he kissed her neck and hummed in her ear. “Whatever the fuck you want, beautiful, as long as you’re not cooking.”

She twisted around in his hold, pushing his chest lightly as he grinned at her. “Fucking rude, Benjamin. I can cook perfectly well now, and I certainly a whole lot better than you are-“

“You’re better at most things than I am,” Ben shrugged. “And fuck me for trying to stop everyone from eating your piss-poor pie and getting fucking poisoned-“ 

“You love my pie. You won’t shut the fuck up about my pie.” There was a smug, proud look in her eyes at her dogshit innuendo, and Ben snorted. 

“That might be the only thing you’re not good at,” Ben said her name, kneading his hands against her skin. “That didn’t even make goddamn sense-“ 

“Fuck you, Ben, you got hard-“ 

“Because you’re fucking sitting on me, darling.” He leaned down, nipping at Her lower lip. “And that will always make me hard.” 

Her heart stumbled in her chest. “Shut up.” 

“No. I love you, and I’m never going to fucking apologize for wanting to fuck my woman.” Ben winked at Her. “And I always want to fuck you.” 

She cleared her throat, and her gaze was suddenly sharp. Her love still lived in Ben—running up and down his spine, eternal and so fucking powerful it might consume him, and he’d let it—but Her fingers were tapping on Ben’s chest, the gears of Her impossibly brilliant mind turning behind her eyes. 

“Ben?” 

He grunted, the grunt she’d said meant he was listening to her, and she let out a long breath. 

“Do you, have you thought about after?”

“After what.” 

“After this.” She made a gesture to the air, eyes still locked onto Ben’s. “All of this. If we kill Homelander-“ 

“When. When we fucking kill Homelander-” 

She gave him a flat look. “When we kill Homelander. What do you, um, what do you want after?” 

Ben knew exactly what he fucking wanted. Her. Whatever way he got to have her, he wanted her. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fucking dumbass, so he hesitated. One fucking second too long, because something is her eyes looked wounded, and Ben had to talk right fucking now. She deserved to be told with all the fucking poetry and art in the fucking universe, but that wasn’t Ben. He didn’t know how the hell to do that, but she also didn’t want anyone but Ben, so he settled on his way. The blunt, clear as fucking day truth.

He said Her name, moving a hand up to cup her cheek, letting his thumb run over her cheekbone. “Whatever the hell you want, I want as well. That’s fucking that.” 

“But I want to knowwhat you want.” She mumbled, hands fisting in his shirt. “I, I just want to hear about it. Don’t worry about, um,” her tongue peaked out from her lips, her chewing becoming rapid with Her heart. “Anything. What I’ll think, how I’ll react. I just want to know.” 

Ben’s hand on her hips stilled, and he clung to Her—alive inside him—to make sure She was serious. He had the feeling they both knew what Ben wanted, but he’d had no desire to say it aloud. Not when Homelander was still fucking alive, still trying to hurt her, and had been so fucking close to crossing that final, horrible, unspeakable line once more barely a few months ago.

But She was content inside of him. There wasn’t any sickness or cold or sense of wrong, only the pleading look in Her eyes and her hands turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between them as she waited. 

“Swear that if you start to-“ 

“I’ll stop you,” She whispered, holding Ben’s gaze. “I promise. Please tell me.” 

“I want this.” He muttered, a careful ear on Her heart for the slightest stutter. “I want you and me, for the rest of fucking time.” 

He stopped, and hoped that was enough. And of course, it fucking wasn’t. 

She dropped her face on his shoulder. “And?” 

“That’s it-“ 

“Where do you want us to be?” She mumbled, and Ben could feel her eyes on his as she turned her head. “Rome? A little no name town? New York, LA-“

“No. Not fucking LA-“ 

“Then where-“ 

“Wherever the fuck you are, I’ll be fine-“ 

“Ben.” His eyes moved to watch her without his fucking permission. “I want to know what you want-“ 

“That is what I fucking want.” He grunted. “I just fucking want you and whatever the hell you want I’ll be good with. I don’t give a fuck where we are, because I’ll be there with you, and that’s what I want. If you want a little fucking postcard town, then we’ll go there. I’ll get a job in the woods so I don’t have to see anyone but you, and you can do whatever the fuck you want all day. If you want Rome, we’ll get you there and do the escort plan until we have a fucking mansion, and I’ll fuck you in every corner of it. If you ask I’ll fuck you full of kids, until we can run our own goddamn little league.” Ben had started, and now he couldn’t fucking stop. “If you want to stay in New York, we’ll find a goddamn apartment and have Annie and Hughie over for lunch, and I’ll take you to stupid fucking movies and we’ll dance the kitchen and sit on the roof until I carry you to bed. If you want to travel the world and help people, I’ll be right at your fucking side, and if you just want to go back to Boston I’ll be there as well. We can have a shitty house that’s older than I am, and you’ll do your decorating shit and be nice to all our stupid neighbors. You can do whatever the fuck smart people do, and I can teach our kids to fucking hate all your stupid sports teams, and we’ll drive them down to the fucking Cape for the summer, and when everyone’s asleep I’ll bring you outside and fuck you on the beach. I’ll fuck you anywhere, Sunshine. I’ll be fucking happy anywhere, because I’ll be wherever you are. So I don’t care what you give me, kids or no kids or a house or a fucking dumpster. As long as you’re there, I’ll be good.” 

Before Ben had even fucking finished speaking, She was smiling at him. And it was all raw fucking joy. “Okay,” She whispered, and rose back up Ben’s body, pressing her brow to his and still fucking smiling. “I’d like that.” 

“Which-“ 

“All of it.” She made a small, blissful sound. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t tell Her not to thank him. Ben just allowed one arm wrap around her waist, and his hand moved up to hold the back of Her head. He let their lips brush, but not further, and muttered. “I fucking love you, Sunshine. I’m serious-“ 

“I know you are.” Her hands glided down Ben’s chest, pushing Herself a little higher up, a little closer, on his chest. “You’re a huge, very serious, grumpy old cunt.” She closed the last bit of space between them, her lips fitting so fucking perfectly against Ben’s, her body melting into his like it was fucking meant to. Her words hummed through Ben’s blood, setting him alight. “And I love you too.” 

It was all he needed. Ben rolled the over, caging Her between him and the mattress—safe, fucking safe and goddamn happy—without ever breaking their kiss. Ben let her hands roam over his body, let her tug his shirt up and her hands trace paths over the bare skin of his chest and torso that lit him on fucking fire. 

“Off,” She mumbled into Ben’s mouth, pulling his shirt further up his chest. “Off, Ben, please-“ 

Ben raised himself up—keeping her against the bed, pinned under his weight by his thighs—and half ripped his shirt off his body before immediately returning. Propping himself up on one elbow, diving down to her neck and sucking and biting a path that made Her sigh, a whining and high sound, and grind up into his torso. 

“Want you,” he muttered Her name against her skin, his free hand moving under Her shirt—Ben’s shirt—to play with the waistline of her panties. “Want you all the fucking time, Sunshine. What do you-“ 

“You,” Her answer was breathless, soft and high and ending in a slight whine as Ben’s thumb pressed right over Her clothed clit. “Want you, Ben, please. Need you.“ 

He groaned as one of Her hands slid between their bodies, palming at his cock, tenting against Her thighs. “How do you-“ 

“Don’t care, just want you-“ 

Ben decided to do it slow. Gentle and fucking sweet. Too good, and all Ben’s to praise and tend to and revere. So he pulled his shirt off Her body—carefully this time, because it did fucking things to Ben when she wore his clothing and he never wanted to take that away from himself—and pressed his palm over her soaked panties, kissing a line down between and under her breasts, rising back up to take a nipple in his mouth, smirking at the high squeak that left her mouth as he sucked. 

Her hands had shot into his hair, her chest heaving as Ben continued his work, starting to roll his hand over her clit. “Ben-“

You’re so fucking beautiful, Sunshine. He let his teeth graze over her—forcing himself to keep focus as she bucked her hips up—and switched to the other nipple. Can’t believe you’re all fucking mine. So fucking good for me, darling, so goddamn perfect. 

“Please-“ 

She cut herself off with a whine as Ben flicked his tongue, his palm pushing down against her, halting her movements up into him. 

Want to fucking show you how perfect you are, my love. Let me fucking show you- 

Please, Ben, fuck, please- 

He grinned at the breathless tone of Her voice between their minds, and surged back up, crashing his mouth into Hers and kissing her until she moaned. Long and desperate, half a sound of need and half his name, already fucking wrecked without friction, Ben holding her still under him. 

“Want you to be loud,” he grunted Her name into her mouth. “Talk to me, tell me how fucking good it feels-“ 

She nodded frantically, and Ben chuckled. 

“Words-“ 

“Feels good,” She mumbled, words practically fucking slurred. “Feels so good, Ben, god-“ 

“Have I told you,” he drawled, swallowing Her whimper as he pressed his hand further against her. “How much you consume my every fucking thought. How much I think about you, how it’s a goddamn problem, how much I adore and love you?” 

“You’ve-“ She took a ragged breath as Ben’s head dropped to suck and lick at her neck. “I think you’ve mention it-“ 

“See, I still think you don’t fucking understand.” Ben bit at her skin and she rolled Her hips, pulling at his hair. “You’re my fucking life, Sunshine. And I’ll say it until you get it into your pretty head. You’re perfect, every single goddamn part of you. You’re too fucking clever, darling, so good and kind and brilliant.” Ben trailed back up, tugging at Her ear and kissing over her cheekbone before pressing his brow to hers. 

“Ben-“ 

He chuckled as she tried to chase his mouth, and started to rub large circles against her clit with his palm, tracing his fingers over the slit of her pussy, still covered by her underwear. 

“Fuck-“ 

“I can fucking feel that sharp, insane mind of yours inside me, beautiful.” He dropped his mouth just an inch further down, holding himself where their lips brushed as he spoke, but no further. “And I love you there the most. Love how fucking bright you are, Sunshine. This mouth of yours is so fucking smart,” he traced his lips over Hers, and she whimpered, eyes blown out and wide on his. “And you can be such a fucking brat, darling, but I goddamn love it. You’re my best fucking friend, and the most impossible fucking pain in my ass I could ever ask to love.”

She was fucking coming apart below him. Sighing in Ben’s mouth and letting him push his tongue down her throat, letting him kiss Her until he decided he should probably keep up with the plan he’d come up with, or else he’d just fucking kiss her until he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager.

Ben dragged his lips from Hers, and her sound of protest turned to a soft moan as Ben kissed every fucking inch of her face her could reach, love and want fucking rioting inside of him as she tried to move to offer him better access.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, dragging his hand up from her cunt to hold her face, running his fingers over her lips and cheekbones and jaw. “You’re a goddamn marvel, Sunshine, you’re fucking art.” 

“Benjamin-“ 

Her words were a long, breathy, desperate moan, and he dropped back down to her lips. “I know, my love. I’ll get there-”

“I want you there now, you fucking dick-“ 

“And you get my fucking dick,” Ben hummed Her name, feeling himself twitch in his pants as he glanced down at her body, squirming and grinding and fucking perfect under him. “Patience.” 

“I hate you-“ 

“You fucking love me.” He kissed back down Her neck, over her collarbones. You love how grumpy I am, and how hard I work, and my fucking dick. But I think what you love most, Ben squeezed where he was holding Her waist. Is how I fucking worship you like you deserve. Make you feel fucking good, Sunshine, take real good care of you- 

I, She took a long breath, hands tugging Ben’s face back up, Her eyes on his still lustful, but now soft as well. That’s not what I love most about you. 

He grunted Her name between their heads, but she pushed on. 

I love how much you care, period. You don’t half-ass anything, Benjamin, and that includes caring. I’ve never seen anyone care about anything so aggressively as you care about baseball and stupid war documentaries and ice cream. I’ve never been cared about as much as you care about me. I didn’t think it was possible to care about someone as much as you care about me. She smiled at him, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure his heart fucking exploded. You care about me and Ryan and everything else you love so violently and wrathfully and powerfully, and that’s what I love most about you.

Ben’s voice sounded fucking hoarse in his own head. Sunshine- 

But, She curled up, kissing Ben’s nose. It’s only one reason on a very long list, my love- 

That snapped something deep in Ben's head, and it cleared his brain to Her. Everything in the universe narrowed to Her. 

This kiss was fucking brutal. Ben’s hand fisted Her hair, his teeth and spit and tongue Hers as well, his whole body demanding more. He’d never been more fucking satiated, and he’d never be more fucking hungry.

I love you, he muttered Her name between their heads. I love every single goddamn thing about you. And I’ve got a whole fucking plan to show you, so for once in your goddamn life, let me do the talking, darling. Moan and scream and beg all you fucking want, but I talk.

But you said-

I changed my mind. No talking.

Ben-

Deal? 

She nodded, finger’s curling on Ben’s face as she writhed below him. Deal, fucking deal, just please- 

I’ve meant everything I said about how much I love you. How smart and kind and clever and perfect that mind of yours is. But fucking Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn wet dream. 

She moaned as Ben moved back to Her body, worshiping Her shoulder and neck and chest with his mouth, Her hips and waist and ass with his hands.

Every single fucking thing about you is goddamn perfection, but these, Ben returned his mouth to Her nipple, her moan only spurring him on. Were crafted by some sort of evil god. They’re fucking magic, beautiful, you could fucking win a war with them. He raised his spare hand to knead at Her other breast, and a strangled sound that sounded like his name left her mouth. 

“God, please-“ 

I talk. Ben squeezed Her one last time, flicking her nipple before switching to soothe the hurt with his tongue, and moved his hand back up to Her mouth. Be fucking good for me, darling, and listen.

Ben- 

He pressed his fingers between Her lips, and she didn’t fucking hesitate to start sucking on them. Licking and nipping and fucking moaning around him, and he groaned against Her tit. 

Fucking Christ, you’re going to kill me. He left one last kiss on her nipple, rising up just enough to watch her. You’re so fucking beautiful-

She whined, bucking up into Ben’s fully hard cock, and Her eyes on his were a plea.

Want to cum, Sunshine? 

She only nodded, kicking his abdomen, and he chuckled, pulling his fingers away with a pop.

Just a little longer, darling. Hold on for me.

Ben didn’t wait to see the desperation in Her eyes—he could feel it in his fucking body—before he was dropping back down, kissing between her breasts, over her stomach, and leaving one soft, fucking sweet kiss over her clothed clit before leaning back and ripping off her panties, admiring his handiwork.

She was fucking dripping. Soaking the sheets, so fucking perfect, and all goddamn Ben’s.

You’ve got the best fucking legs I’ve ever seen, he muttered into her head, kissing and biting a loose pattern over her inner thighs. Could fucking die here. But this, Ben parted Her swollen pussy lips, smirking at her small gasp. Is like a fucking drug. You’re always so fucking wet for me, my love, I don’t even need to prep you. But I think I will anyway.

Ben pushed two fingers into Her, pumping slowly and groaning as she squeezed around him. Then, just for his fucking self, Ben pulled Her clit into his mouth and sucked. Going and going without pointless shit like air, scissoring and pushing his fingers in deeper, and only stopping when She screamed, and his whole fucking face got soaked. He felt and smelled and tasted Her fucking everywhere, and it was like fucking water. Earthier and harsher and so fucking Her, but just as goddamn critical to Ben’s life now.

He pushed himself off of Her, rising back up to his knees and groaning at the sight of Her. Fucking glowing, goddamn ruined. Looking at Ben like he was something holy and sacred, and to Her, he was. He could feel it fucking everywhere, and taste it on his tongue as he licked his lips.

He hoped She fucking lingered there for the rest of time. That every night for the rest of his life, Ben could run a hand through his beard, and end up with his fingers fucking covered in Her. 

You fucking squirted.

She nodded, and—despite the fucking choir of Her love around Ben in the world—only moaned, reaching up for him. 

Think you can do it again? 

She whined, and Ben chuckled. 

Words, darling- 

Yes, fuck Ben, please- 

Good girl. 

She practically flew off the fucking bed as her hips jerked up, her heart stuttering with her breath. God, fuck, please- 

Ben grinned, and he could never fucking deny her anything, so he ripped his pants off, stroking himself once, twice—just to how fucking beautiful she was—and pushed himself in with a groan. He fell over Her as he bottomed out, and fuck She was perfect. Fluttering around him, fitting him like they’d been fucking designed to be as close as goddamn possible, gasping in Ben’s ear as Her hands clawed at his back. 

Ready, Sunshine? 

Just move, you ass- 

He kissed Her—bruising and demanding and made of all this fucking love for Her that consumed Ben’s whole goddamn existence—and obeyed. 

Ben didn’t think he’d ever worked harder than to memorize every single fucking part of Her. What every pout and glare and smile meant, how She said his name and every small way she existed around him—in music and movies and shows and books and the flowers in MM’s garden—and how She moved. Ben had learned Her like fucking she was a fucking testament to how he should live, and he took it goddamn seriously. It was what helped him know how to fuck Her right. How to angle himself inside her so he was hitting that spot that always made Her let out a strangled moan, how to kiss her in a fucking rhythm as he pounded himself into her, and that, if he groaned when She squeezed around him, she’d start to try and grind up into him. 

This was better than a fucking drug. This was fucking oxygen, how warm and tight she was around him, how when Ben deepened their kiss she opened up for him and scratched his back, how sensitive She was—leaning into his every touch, moaning at every muttered and growled praise—and how he could fucking feel Her. How fucking perfect She was, finally around him in every single possible way. So fucking bright, a green mist that smelled like pine and vanilla and damn strawberries covering the room as she shinedlike fucking star under Ben, Her eyes watching him like he was something good. 

Ben was something good, for Her. It lived in how he tended and adored and cared for her, and he wanted to be something that was half as fucking perfect as she was, just so she’d let him stay here for the rest of fucking time. Buried deep inside Her, his thrusts becoming stuttered as he began to lose control—no fucking idiot pussy could blame him, though, because She was squirming under him and moaning his name so I was a miracle he lasted this long—and letting every single fucking thought of Her fall out of his mouth, down her throat.

“So fucking good,” he grunted Her name. “Taking me so fucking perfect. You sound like a fucking song, look so fucking beautiful all fucked out, love you, taking me so fucking well-“

He cut himself off with a groan as her head dropped to his jaw, kissing along his beard with sinful fucking whimpers. 

“Christ, you’re a goddamn miracle, fucking made for me.” Ben pushed one hand between their bodies, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of her as he pinched and rubbed over her clit. 

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, Her heart hitting that frantic pace that meant she was close, and when Her hands trying to push Ben further into her he moved faster, crashing his mouth back into her and growling Her name. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Ben’s words became fast and rough, their brows pressed together so he could see every inch of Her beautiful face, his own orgasm pushing at his restraint. “You so fucking good, darling, good to everyone, so fucking good to me. I fucking love you-“

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper of pure fucking need that almost sent Ben over the edge. “Please-“

He kissed Her again, soft and sweet as his movements become almost feral, splitting her fucking open on his cock. Cum for me, Sunshine, say my name-

She screamed—Ben’s name lost somewhere in many high, wrecked sounds of God and fuck—and Ben let go. Driven on by Her fucking squirting over him, her pussy contracting like she was trying to really fucking kill him, Ben made one last, long thrust as he emptied himself into Her body. He waited for Her breathy, blissful sigh that meant she was happy and high on pleasure before pressing one last, soft kiss to between Her eyes, tucking hair behind her ears, and lowering himself down. Covering her body in his like he could serve as a shield from fucking everything. From the daylight and blue sky, slowing creeping over them and threatening that morning was here, and they couldn’t fucking stay here forever. From the battle they were staged to fight, where Ben would have to just be fucking silent at Her side. From every single factor that neither of them could control, from everything that might hurt Her or make her cry. Every single weak thing that dared to pretend they were worthy sharing the same air that She fucking breathed. 

And She let them stay like that. With Ben’s body likely fucking dead-weight over her, his arms wrapped around her waist as he buried his head between her breasts, her hands even moving to hold his face, tilting it up for Ben to meet her gaze. 

He scanned over her face, perfect and fucking beautiful and all fucking Ben’s. “Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” 

She couldn’t be allowed to fucking call him that. If Ben ever wanted to be a goddamn productive member of society, She couldn’t keep calling him my love. And, Christ on a fucking cross, Benjamin, my love, was worse. That made him short circuit and practically fucking gape at Her. It repeated over and over in his head, and he probably looked like an idiot fucking pussy, just gaping at Her, but fuck She was so pretty, and happy, and Ben’s and Her Her Her, everything in him kept calling Ben home to Her. 

Ben managed to regain just enough control over his stupid fucking lovestruck body to roll them over, tugging Her down until that bright, drug-like smile was right above him, Her arms holding her a few inches away from him. 

“You’re a fucking thief,” Ben drawled Her name, and was unable to contain a dumb fucking smile from overtaking his face. It was born from Her—hair messy, fucking naked, beautiful mouth still slightly swollen and pretty eyes still so dazed from sex—being so goddamn near him. Her smell that was half wrapped in salt from sweat and Ben’s cum, Her perfect face all fucking happy above him, Her smile and love fucking intoxicating. A high Ben never had to come down from, because even as She gave him a fake pout he just got higher. 

“I am not a thief, that’s mean-“ 

“You’re fucking mean.” He grabbed Her hips, pulling them down to press against his and letting Her sit over him. “And you’re a goddamn thief. I call you my love, you stole my goddamn idea-“

She scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. “You are not the first dummy to call their person my love, Pretty Boy-“ 

“I said it first with us-“ 

“Well you don’t get a patent over it-“ 

“The fuck I don’t.” 

They were glowering at each other, and Ben knew he’d lost when a soft smile crossed her face, a sharp look glinting in her eyes. “Well then I am a thief,” She crawled back down his body, bumping their noses and kissing along Ben’s jaw. “Because it’s mine now. I call you my love, and that’s that.”

He scowled, but it was getting harder to even keep up the charade of this fake fight when She was squirming above him and his hands were bruising at Her hips. “You don’t get to just fucking take it-“ 

“Yes, I do.” 

Ben hauled Her further up his body, fully moving her to collapse over him, a high yelp leaving her as Ben kissed every single fucking inch of skin he could angle his head to find. “Fucking brat.” He grunted, rutting slightly up into Her thighs and growing harder as he felt her wetness, dripping down her thighs. “Already so goddamn needy for me again, want me to fuck you good, darling? Again?” 

She was fucking perfect. It wasn’t Ben’s own damn bias or love or something fucking pathetic—but entirely goddamn warranted, She was his life and Ben was allowed to be a little bit of a fucking pussy about her—She was just so fucking clearly perfect. She might be the only person alive who was more dirty-minded and horny than Ben, and he pitied any fucker who’d tried to keep up with Her before him. Her head ended up thrown back as she rode him, a beautiful fucking squeak leaving her when Ben took back control, grabbing Her hips and drilling up into Her until her pretty eyes rolled back and she was shaking around him. 

When he found his release with Her own—letting Her grind over his cock and scrape at his abdomen as she made sounds that were fucking music—Ben had to take a long, heavy breath to stop himself from just rolling Her over and going for round three when he saw his cum leaking and coating her thighs. 

She giggled slightly, brushing some of Ben’s hair from his eyes. 

“What-“ 

“We really do fuck like rabbits,” She said, shifting around until their legs were tangled, pulling Ben’s arms over her body. “Hughie asked if it was the supe stamina, but I think it might just be us.” 

“You talked to Hughie about our sex life-“ 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Technically I was talking to Annie, but Hughie was forced to listen. And halfway through the story about the dishes incident, he asked if copious amounts of sex was normal for two supes.” 

It wasn’t. Ben had fucked half the female supe population before Russia, and it might as well have been juvenile dry humping compared to what he did with her. But he was still caught on the talking to Annie shit. “What the fuck else do you tell her about us-“

“Normal friend stuff,” she shrugged, leaving soft kisses along his beard as She spoke. “How much I love you, how you made me pancakes for breakfast again, how good you are with Ryan and how adorably grumpy you get when we talk about books, how I’m going to bribe you to read something with Ryan and I, and Hughie and Annie are welcome read with us-“

“You’re going to fucking bribe me-“

She continued, kissing the bridge of Ben’s nose and holding his gaze. “Usually Hughie clocks out when I start talking about how much I love your dick, though-“

Ben raised his brows at Her. “You talk about my dick with fucking Hughie? What, are you telling Butcher about my balls-“

“I would if he would listen.” She smiled, dropping back down, kissing everywhere but Ben’s fucking lips. “Benjamin, my love, if you were fucking you, you’d never shut up about it either-“ 

His eyes narrowed. “You did it again.” 

She hummed, her smile so perfectly and beautifully mocking innocence. “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about.”

Ben snaked one hand up her back, tangling his finger in her hair and moving her back his mouth. Kissing her until she was writhing and moaning above him, a tiny whine leaving her lips when he pulled away. 

“Ben-“ 

“You’re the love of my fucking life, Sunshine, and you should know that-“ 

“I do know that,” She whispered, and Ben could fucking feel it. Spreading between them, how he was just as critical to Her as She was to him. Her piece of him so fucking strong inside of him, twined into something so deep inside of Ben’s body he’d never fucking known about it before. “I know that all the time, Ben. And I need you to know that I love you.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You do so much for me, and I want to give you something back-“ 

“You give me more than fucking enough-“ 

She shook her head. “I want to do more. It’s just a name, Pretty Boy. You have a million of them for me, and I’m sure you’ll come up with more.” 

Ben groaned, because he’d fucking lost this one as well. She was too fucking pretty, half-pouting up at him and loving him and so fucking happy around him, alive inside him, and Ben needed to get his fucking shit together, but he didn’t want to. This was so fucking good, and She was so goddamn perfect, and when he made a grumbling relent, her smile was so fucking bright and sweet and all for him. 

“Thank you, Benjamin, my love.” 

She kissed him one last time, and Ben needed to get better at faking a genuine scowl, because right now he goddamn knew he looked just like the fucking puppy dog She kept accusing him of being. Watching Her and trying to act like he was annoyed by this, when everything in him was just Her. Making his whole fucking life better and loving him and wanting him and being so fucking annoying and he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. 

“We could both fucking use it-“ 

“No.” She mumbled, burying her face in his neck. “Mine.” 

And Ben couldn’t fucking argue with that. He was Hers. He was holding Her against him as they both made a completely fucking pointless attempt to properly rest in the last hour before they had to get up, watching the light start to dance over her perfect face, and he wanted to be here for the rest of his goddamn life. 

He really fucking wanted to be with Her, forever. He’d always fucking burn with her, but he wanted to just stay here. No burning, just warm and love and good. In whatever goddamn form it took, Ben just really fucking wanted Her. 

She was half-asleep, and there was a chance she wouldn’t even hear him. But Ben muttered Her name anyway, and waited for her small sound of acknowledgement, her hand squeezing his bicep in a silent signal that she was listening. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too-“ 

“I really fucking love you,” Ben grunted. “And we should get married. Now.” 

Her heart hitched slightly, but all she did was smile against Ben’s skin. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, my love.” 

Ben snorted slightly, and knew that he would. He’d have to make it romantic. Something that she deserved, that made every single other fucking gesture in history seem fucking stupid. There would be music and flowers—she fucking loved music and flowers—and chocolate, and maybe a horse. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why he’d need a horse, but those things always seemed involved in romance somehow, so he’d have to figure out where the fuck to get a horse, and how to work it in with everything else. 

But then he looked down at Her—sleeping peacefully above Ben, breath warming his neck and lips brushing over his skin—and knew she wouldn’t give a fuck about a horse. He didn’t need to make it complicated, just do it right. 

Fuck, if he tried right now—more than just a grumbled idea that made Her love spark in his head and bones—Ben could probably get it right. He could roll her over, kiss her neck, cheeks, brow, and lips, and tell Her to fucking marry me. I love you, and I love every single part of you, and I want every single part of you, and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life proving that to you, starting now. If you let me, I’ll pick you up and we can go find a judge and do it right goddamn now. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll find one, I’ll find you whatever the fuck you want, and that will be it. You and me, for the rest of fucking time, together. 

He didn’t, though. She was, somehow, fast asleep, and Ben had no desire to wake Her. Not when her face was so relaxed, and Ben could just lay here and care for her in silence. Hold Her until he saw the clock flash 5:30, and they had to move. 

They were silent getting ready. Ben wore his supe suit, She kept his shirt on—her eyes bleary and gaze slightly unfocused as she shuffled around the room—and Ben didn’t fight her when she grabbed their suitcase. Her grip on it was white-knuckled and smoking, and even though she was probably about to do fucking everything at the meeting for everyone else, she needed to be useful. Ben knew that drawn focus, and mechanical breathing, and rapid tapping of Moon River. It was her I’m doing this, my way, and that means doing it fucking right, face. It was the one that Ben knew he could help with an arm looped through hers and a kiss on the side of Her head, promising that he was fucking there, and not going anywhere.

The rest of the team seemed to know that face by now as well. Enough so for Butcher not to make any mocking comments about how that shirt was very obviously Ben’s, Annie and Hughie not to try and engage her in boring, pointless fucking conversation, and MM to only give her a tight nod as they tossed the suitcase in the back and climbed into the limo. 

The ride was completely silent. Her head was leaned back on Ben's shoulder, her eyes closed but heartbeat fast, and her finger still tapping, faster and faster, on Ben’s arm. 

He muttered Her name between their heads, and her eyes slowly opened, her face turning to look at him.

Ben. 

You’re going to be fucking fine. 

I know- 

I’m serious, he pushed Her a little further up his body, making their eyes level. You’re going to be fucking fine. We’re going to figure this out, no matter what happens, or what the pussies decide. We’ll take care of this, together. 

She swallowed, but gave Ben a soft, reassuring smile that didn’t hit her eyes. Together. I love you. 

I love you too. Ben paused, scanning over her face. If those cumfucks ask- 

We’re dating. Her smile grew a little wider, and her fingers stilled on Ben’s skin. Or fuck-buddy-brain-connected. My vote is- 

Ben kissed Her, squeezing her body once, and Her giggle into his mouth might be the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. 

You’re not allowed to vote on what we call things. 

She fake-pouted against him. This is a democracy, Benjamin- 

No, it’s not. He grinned, nipping on her lower lip. It’s a constitutional monarchy, where you’re the fucking Queen. And the Queen isn’t supposed to vote. 

She pulled back, giving Ben a wide, amused smile he could feel something soften in his stomach. Look who paid attention in civics class. 

I paid attention to you and Ryan, not some boring fucking history teacher. I’ve told you, your boobs have magical fucking powers, Sunshine. They move when you talk and I always fucking listen.

Gross. 

You love it. 

I do. She traced a hand over Ben’s jaw, the sharp smile playing over her features lighting up the whole goddamn world. Because we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Don’t call us that. 

Can I call us that on the Ben’o’phone? 

You can do whatever the fuck you want in here, Ben held Her hand on his face, kissing her palm. But if you tell Singer that we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, I’m not fucking you for a week.

Her eyes narrowed. That’s a bad bluff, Pretty Boy. 

It was. Ben wouldn’t make it two fucking days before he caved, even if all She did smile and talk to him. But he kept his face set and neutral, shrugging slightly. So fucking call me on it, Sunshine. 

Her tongue peaked between her lips as she chewed, nose twitching, and she sighed. Fuck you. 

Don’t call us that shit, Ben winked. And I will. Hard, this time, until you’re rolling around and can’t feel your fucking legs. Until we finally get you to really, properly squirt, and I can fucking taste it. Ben kissed Her nose, light and teasing. I’ll fuck until we break the goddamn bed, and you’re burning down the whole goddamn building with how good I make you cum. Think you’d like that, darling? He smirked at Her slack expression, pressing his thumb between her lips and feeling his cock twitch when they parted. Think you’d want me to make you cum so fucking hard you scream my name and light up like a fucking star? Think you could be a good girl and let go when I fuck you? 

Her eyes had gone clear of glazed, grinding thought, and clouded with a lust that called Ben like a fucking siren. He was a strong man, but not strong enough for this. Things like will and resolve didn’t matter when She looked at him like that. When Her hands were curled on Ben’s arm, and her breathing was ragged in a way that made things feel right, and there was a little bit of fucking drool lining her lips. The limo was starting to be washed in a golden haze that meant she was turned on and probably fucking soaking her underwear, so nobody would be strong in this situation. Every other single asshole would want to make good on those promises, because they were to Her and she was perfect. 

Ben was either about to try and secretly fuck her in front of everyone, or try the proposal again, so or everyone’s sake, it was good they arrived within the next few seconds. If they did try to fuck the secret thing wouldn’t last a damn minute, and if Ben proposed—the right way—they’d definitely be fucking, loud and hard and wet, after. And even if Hughie and Annie had heard about how good Ben fucked Her, they still weren’t allowed to see it. 

Butcher twisted around from the front, his eyes landing on Her as he said Her name. “You’re gonna need to wear a fuckin disguise, we ain’t able to risk anyone figurin out who you are.” 

She rolled Her eyes, dramatically pulling her sunglasses out of her jacket and placing them on her face. “Good?” 

Butcher frowned, turning to Hughie. “Oi, lad. Give her your fucking cap.” 

“My-“ 

“I’ve got it.” Annie tossed Her a black baseball cap from across the limo, giving Butcher a flat, annoyed look. “Hughie doesn’t have a hat, asshole, it’s mine-“ 

“Don’t matter whose hat it is, long as she,” Butcher jerked his head to Her. “Is the one wearin it. Indoors too, Love, I ain’t lookin for Homelander to drop through the ceiling-“ 

“Keep your tits on, Butcher.” She plopped the cap on her head with another sweeping, sarcastic gesture. “Everyone ready?” 

MM nodded. “Grace is already there, so hopefully we won’t have a wait time. Everyone try to be diplomatic for once in your lives, don’t say something you don’t think over five fucking times in your head, and no weapons.” 

Everyone looked at Ben and Butcher. 

“That cunt is a bloody weapon, I’m takin my gun-“ 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want-“ 

“Both of you,” She glared between Ben and Butcher, voice not as loud as theirs, but with a threat of violence that made even Butcher snap his jaw closed. “Shut the fuck up. No weapons in the White House. Near the president. Ben, you are a weapon, we’ll be fine. Butcher, if you remind the fucking secret service that Ben and I are weapons, they’ll make us wait outside, and you’ll be fucked. You need me for this, I’ve put the whole thing together. Got it?”

Ben made a grumbled agreement, and Butcher scowled, pulling out at least fifty fucking guns and placing them in the passenger’s seat, glaring at Her the whole time. She gave them both a pretty, smug smile, and pulled Ben with her, out of the limo. 

As they walked through the halls of the White House, flanked by many, incredibly fucking useless secret service agents—Her hand over Ben’s, on her shoulder, warmer than usual but not smoking—Ben nudged her shoulder.

You look fucking hot when you order everyone around, Sunshine. 

She huffed a small laugh. You always think I look hot. 

Because you’re always fucking hot- 

I think. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. That I could eat vomit and roll in shit, and you’d still think I’m hot. 

You would be. 

I would objectively not be- 

Yes, you fucking would be. Ben kissed Her brow. You’re objectively hot all the goddamn time.

And you’re an incredibly biased party, Benjamin, my love. 

Ben almost picked her up and to fuck her on one of these stupid fancy benches in the halls. The only thing that stopped him was a secret service agent, coming to a halt in the hall with no warning. 

“Christ, you pussy-“ 

Her free hand shot up, covering Ben’s mouth. “Is this it?” 

The agent nodded, and started listing off a bunch of fucking rules that Ben didn’t care about. Not when Her eyes had gone glass-like once more, and her heart was stumbling in her chest. 

You’ve fucking got this, Sunshine. We’re going to be fine. 

I know. She let out a long, slow breath, and leaned into Ben slightly. Ready? 

Fucking born it. 

Singer was at the center of the table—in the same spot as last time—with Mallory on one side and a man Ben had never seen before on the other. 

Ben hated him. She was perfect and beautiful, and Todd Muller was a slimy-looking weasel-fuck, wearing a red tie Ben wanted to strangle him with and looking at them with gleaming eyes Ben wanted to stab. The man hadn’t even spoken, and Ben’s fists were already goddamn curling at his side. There was something in him that told Ben wrong. Bad, vile, fucking wrong, and it came from Her. When the man smiled, a crude cold smirk that made Ben feel like he’d been shoved into a fucking swamp, the warning became an alarm, and Her grip on Ben’s hand over her shoulders started to smoke.

Muller—it was fucking Muller, Mallory had made some introductions that Ben barely heard over the blood lining his every thought—wouldn’t stop looking at Her, and Ben had to fight every fucking urge in his body to just step in front of her. 

And when Muller said Her name—said it fucking wrong, with no love and only callous venom—Ben thought his jaw might crack. 

“You’re looking healthy for a dead girl.” 

“Todd.” Her voice was bored and cold, Her heart pounding like a fucking war drum. “You’re looking like a bitch ass cock guzzler.” 

Even with the tension in the air—wired and electric and set to detonate—Ben still had to cough to cover his laugh, and Muller’s eyes shot to his. 

“Soldier Boy,” a hand was extended over the table. Ben forced himself not to break it. “Big fan-“ 

“Don’t be.” Her voice was dry. “He’s a Phillies fan.” 

Brat. 

Cunt. A small smile tugged at Her lips, even as Muller’s attention returned to her. 

“You’ve been busy,” Muller said Her name again, and Ben was going to pull out his tongue. “Learning about baseball, getting your fifteen minutes of fame, never bothering to tell your mother and me that you were alive-“ 

“I’d been dead to you and Mom for years,” She shrugged. “What’s legal death to being locked out and left to fend for myself?” 

“And I see you’re still a little-“ 

“Secretary Muller.” Mallory’s voice was even and cool, and she didn’t even fucking look at Her or Ben. “We agreed to keep personal lives out of this meeting.” 

Muller’s face twitched, but he fell back into his seat, eyes still trained on Her and Ben. 

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” Singer nodded to the chairs before them. “Sit, so we can talk like damn adults.” 

MM cleared his throat as they all sat, nodding to a silent, bored-looking Singer. “Thank you for seeing us again, sir.”

“Don’t.” Singer sighed, rubbing at his beard. “If I don’t follow up with you dumbasses, the brit,” he jerked his head to Butcher, who winked. “Will probably start sendin death threats and bombs to my family. But I ain’t here to small talk or do fucking therapy sessions, so I’m just gonna say it.” Singer sighed, looking around the room. “You’re not gettin any V. You’ve been determined to be a liability and are being ordered to explore other avenues to eliminate Homelander.”

The shocked, angry silence only lasted a moment before the room erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about Singer being a bloody fuckin cunt idiot, MM and Annie trying to provide reason, and Hughie trying to make everyone stop yelling. 

But She was silent, watching Muller. No smoke, no screams, only a pure, horrid sense of wrong and sick in Ben’s body. 

Ben. She didn’t look at him, but squeezed his arm. Don’t freak out. 

What- 

She coughed, a tiny amount of fire escaping her mouth, the whole room erupted in clicks of guns. All fucking aimed at Her. The only thing that kept Ben only rigid and alert at Her side, instead of launching himself over her body and bashing in the brains of any pussy that dared to fire, was Her quick, sharp glance in his direction, and smooth words in his head. 

I’ve got this. 

She had this. Ben was right here, killing anyone who fired was still very much an option, and she had this. She was leaning over the table, eyes flicking between Singer, Muller, and Mallory, and she had this. 

“What exactly about us is a liability?” She asked, tilting her head in mock thought. “That would justify you refusing to provide us with the only definitive weapon against Homelander?” 

“Your team has proven reckless,” Singer held Her gaze, which was a little fucking admirable. Ben had seen fucking Butcher stop talking under that glare, and Singer didn’t even seem to have the cocky death-wish Butcher had. “Countless times. Truth-con, both of Firecracker’s rallies, Tek Knight’s club massacre, the Believe Expo, and that’s just off the top of my damn head. We’re past takin gambles that don’t pay off, and this is a massive gamble that we ain’t able to afford.“

“How so?” She blinked at Singer, her face innocent and her fingers tapping on the table. “This is not a gamble. V will incapacitate Homelander.” 

“On your word.” Muller sneered. “All we have is your word, and there’s nothing to stop you from simply taking the V for your own use.” 

She scoffed, giving Muller a bored, amused look. “That can’t possibly be your real excuse. Half of us are already supes, and the other half hate supes-” 

“I don’t hate supes-“ 

Hughie’s mumble was cut off by Mallory’s curt, snapped words. “You have all been known to make questionable moves.” 

This time, Butcher laughed. “Come off it, Grace. Questionable moves is real high and fuckin mighty from you-“ 

“I have always remained within the bounds of the law-“ 

“The law,” She drawled. “Is not the end all be all of morality. We need to kill Homelander. This will help us. There isn’t another way. So please give me one really good reason why you can’t spare one vial of V so we can eliminate the most dangerous man alive.” 

There was a beat of tight, furious silence, and then Singer stood. 

“Grace, Todd,” he flattened his suit, letting out a labored breath. “I got a fuckin country to run, deal with this. You dumbasses,” he nodded across the table to the Boys. “Are real lucky we’re still housing and entertaining you. And you,” Singer said Her name, and the whole world was lined in red. “Consider playing that role you designed for yourself, if you’re so fuckin committed to the safety of our country.” 

Ben felt his fists curl, and Butcher looked like he would’ve stood up and tackled Singer down had it not been for the countless fucking guns still trained on their heads. 

Muller cleared his throat as the door, and their last fucking hope, closed. “We have determined that the pitch comes from a non-lucid party-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Todd.” She wrinkled Her nose, lip curling. “Just say it’s because of me, so we can all move on.” 

“You are not important enough for this call to be made in your name-“ 

“Try again.” 

“Homelander is a chronic threat of unfathomable proportion. You are not qualified to handle such a delicate situation-“

“Wrong.” She shrugged, and Ben felt like he was watching a sparring match. Muller’s face was growing more and more red, and Her breathing more mechanical, both close to snapping, but she still pushed on. “I am qualified. I have field experience, and I’m literally a doctor. And you used chronic wrong. That’s not what it means-“ 

“I do not care what it means,” Muller hissed. “You are not stable or reliable, and we will not put the most dangerous drug in history into the hands of an over-emotional girl.” 

The table cracked under Ben’s hands, and something fucking dangerous crossed over Her face. 

“Oh, fuck.” MM muttered, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face as the air of the room started to wave in the heat. 

“So,” Her words were slow, wrathful. “You are risking America, risking the fucking world, because you think I’m the same unstable teenager I was thirteen fucking years ago.” 

Muller didn’t waver. “I believe you are the same girl you were because you are spoiled and believe you are owed something from the world. We are not a weapons bank-” 

“I am not owed V, it’s the only weapon to hold down Homelander that we have!” Her voice was growing louder, the room crackling with heat. “I want to kill my fucking abuser, that’s not spoiled-“ 

“And she’s helped us!“ Annie jumped in, glaring at Muller. “She’s not spoiled, she’s made a lot of the hard calls-“ 

“Starlight,” Mallory muttered, shooting Annie a look. “Drop it.” 

“No, Mallory! This is insane, you can’t think this is the best choice-“ 

“This is the president’s call-“ 

Butcher let out a cold, angry laugh. “You ain’t ever been this much of a bureaucratic bitch before, Grace-“

“Times are changing, Butcher-“ 

“And Grace here,” Muller gave Mallory a cold smirk. “Still wants to be in the running for the sweet VP spot. So now isn’t the time to disagree with Mr. President.” 

MM gaped at Mallory. “Are you being serious, Grace-“

“Oh, she is,” Muller turned his grin to the team. “And she’s still trying to make up ground for letting her two most dangerous and unreliable weapons,” his twisted gaze turned to Her and Ben. “Fall in love. What did you drug him with,” Muller sneered Her name. “To get Soldier Boy to follow you like a weak fucking baby?” 

Ben still had to let Her handle it. Even as he felt so fucking cold, physically restraining himself from launching across the table at Muller, he had to let Her handle it. 

“Ben isn’t weak, or a baby.“ She lifted her chin at Muller, and Ben swore he saw something fucking spark in the air. “And I’m not like you, Todd. I don’t need to offer someone something for them to love me.” A cold, hollow smirk played across Her lips. “Tell Mom I say hi, by the way.” 

Muller’s eyes narrowed. “You whoring little bitch-“ 

That was fucking it. Fuck letting Her handle it, that was the fucking line. 

Ben shot to his feet, letting the table crack further under his fist, and Muller’s words faded off. 

“Don’t ever fucking speak to her like that again in your pathetic, pussy life,” Ben growled. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Soldier Boy-“ 

Ben ignored MM’s low warning. “And you should count yourself real fucking lucky, because otherwise I’d break your fucking skull right goddamn now.” 

Muller cleared his throat, and a flash of fear crossed his face. “Careful, Soldier Boy.” Muller said, voice less smug and assured as he straightened his already too-straight tie. “Or we’ll find some Agent Orange and put you back in the box, and she won’t have anyone to do her dirty work.”

Ben could hear the fucking drums. He hadn’t heard the drums like this in months, but they were pounding in his head. Not from Muller—he could throw his against the wall and crack his spine without a thought—but from the thought of leaving Her alone. Failing Her again, leaving Her and Ryan to fight Homelander alone. And the drums beat with the knowledge that She’d burn herself out to wake Ben up, and he could never fucking let that happen- 

“You won’t get near him,” She hissed. “Or I’ll burn your dick off, and your fancy house down. And you,” Her wrath turned to Mallory, her words measured and toxic. “Are fucking pathetic. You know this is the wrong call, and you’re just letting it happen. Actually do something to kill Homelander, or deal with the consequences of him being alive.” 

She stood, looping Her arm through Ben’s. We need to leave, now. 

We’re not going fucking anywhere without the V- 

Ben. Her voice was firm in his head, and Ben realized her heart had slowed. Trust me. 

“Oi, where are you-“ 

“We’re done here,” She announced over Butcher, giving the team sharp, pointed looks. “Thank you,” She gave Mallory and Muller a too sweet, toxic smile. “For absolutely fucking nothing.” 

The rest of their team exchanged confused looks, their mouths opening and closing in protest, but She was on a strange sort of warpath. Pulling Ben behind Her into the hall, barely looking back to see their team scramble up as she turned to face Ben. 

Take my phone.

What the fuck are you- 

We’re not getting the V, Muller is the leak. 

How do you- 

He said Agent Orange. You told me Frenchie used that for his gas, that Sage based Hers on. Nobody except the Boys, Homelander, and Sage know that. It’s him. But we’ll be fine, you just need to play the music-

How the goddamn Christ is music going to help-

Neuman said they had a backup of V, that isn’t under the pentagon's control. I’m going to find it, and I need you to play a song, any song, really fucking loud. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Please. 

Ben nodded, putting Her rapid word in order in his own head. They didn’t have the V. There was more V, that wasn’t under the pentagon’s—Muller’s—control. She needed him to play music. Ben could defiantly fucking play music. 

He took Her phone, and she glanced behind him as their team stumbled into the hall. 

“Love, we ain’t fuckin done here-“ 

“Listen to me, Butcher.” Her voice was controlled and firm, and Ben glanced up from her phone to see that sharp, almost hazardous focus in her eyes. “We need to go now. I need to have my back here, please.”

Butcher blinked, and—by some fucking miracle—nodded. “Let’s bloody get a move on, then.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Nah, Mate.” Butcher cut off MM with a shrug, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We ain’t gettin shit out of those cunts. Let’s cut our losses and move.” 

“That’s,” Annie frowned, watching Butcher carefully. “Uncharacteristically forgiving of you-“

“What can I say, I’m a changed fuckin man. Let’s go.” 

MM, Annie, and Hughie exchanged looks, but before they could protest further, Ben felt Her bump his shoulder, her eyes fixed behind him. 

Now. 

He didn’t think about what he was playing, because it didn’t fucking matter. It was fucking loud, and it caused the team to jump slightly and give him odd looks, but She nodded. And that’s what fucking mattered. 

And then She fucking vanished, like she had at Red River. Something rushed through Ben’s body—indescribable and elusive and not wrong but strange—the world practically stuttered, and She was gone. 

Annie’s mouth fell open. “Where-“ 

“Oh, shit.” Hughie looked over at Ben, his voice muffled by the blasting vocals and drums and guitar. “She’s-“ 

Ben didn’t want to talk over the music. He didn’t understand how this weird fucking power of Hers worked—She’d explained it a few times, and he’d still gotten lost in Her pretty eyes and big words—and now wasn’t the time to pull experiments with it. So, he just gave Hughie a sharp nod, and waited. 

Butcher didn’t seem phased by this in the goddamn slightest, looking around the hall and rolling his eyes before starting for the exit. 

A secret service agent blocked his path, and an argument started about turning off the music and where is the sixth member of your party—MM grunted something about the bathroom, and they seemed to buy it—but Ben didn’t fucking hear any of it. She was taking too long, there wasn’t any telling where the fuck She’d gone, and Ben could feel Her tugging him with the Pigeon instinct—he was worried out his damn mind, and She’d never get to know he’d called it that—from deep in the building. 

Then She started drawing closer, back to Ben, and the instinct started to grow electric and feral. She was closer, and something felt sick, and he should just fuck this and go fucking find her- 

She was walking down the hallway, and, without a word, looped Her arms through Ben’s. 

Go. 

Ben didn’t stop playing the music—despite the many people in suits glaring at him—as She half-marched down the hall. Her face was too neutral, almost statue-like, and she still wasn’t speaking. Ben could swear he could hear Her fucking singing, like a ghost or phantom on the wind, but Her mouth was closed. 

They made it out. The rest of their team still looked tense and confused, and She was still being so fucking weird, but they’d made it the fuck out. Ben knew She was with them—he could feel Her humming and taut somewhere in his head—but she still didn’t speak. 

Butcher started driving, and when they crossed the lines out of DC, Ben finally felt a tug of his arm. 

Off. 

When the song stopped and Ben looked back to Her, tucked against his side, her eyes were far away, and he could hear Her fucking brain moving. 

“You gonna bloody explain whatever the fuckin hell you just pulled-“ 

“Drive, Butcher.” She snapped, eyes still glazed over. “Fast.” 

The ride was silent for another ten minutes. The didn’t have the V. They were out of fucking options, and they still had to figure out the Cornucopia, and they were fucked- 

Ben. 

He glanced down at Her, and found her staring at him. What- 

I got it. 

You- 

I followed Mallory and Muller to the oval office, which is like, really small by the way- 

Ben grunted Her name, trying to keep her perfect, too fast mind on one track. What the fuck did you get. 

The location. Of the executive V. It’s in a warehouse in Boston. 

Ben nodded slowly. So let’s go fucking get it. 

We need to deal with Edgar first. She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. No loose ends. We can’t get this wrong. 

She squeezed Ben’s hand—resting on her waist—and cleared her throat. 

Ben frowned. You’re telling them- 

Everything. “Butcher, pull over.” 

“We’re on the fuckin freeway-“ 

“So find a rest stop or take the next exit.” 

Ben could hear Butcher’s sigh, but the ass wasn’t stupid enough to keep arguing—not when Her tone was so flat and forceful, her face painted in a tight, resolved look—so they were parked within two minutes. 

“Can I, uh,” Hughie coughed. “I need to go to the bathroom-“ 

“Hold it, lad.” Butcher twisted in his seat, shooting Her a glare. “The fuck was all that-“

“I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to listen. No talking until I’m done.” She looked around the team, leaning forward. “Got it?” 

They got some nods and mumbled agreements—everyone glancing at Ben’s set, purposefully unreadable face like he had shit to say—and She let out a long, heavy breath. Ben’s hand moved to Her thigh, steadying her heart a little further, and she began. 

“We have a leak. I caught it when we met with Edgar, who’s probably doing some cloak and dagger double-agent bullshit, because he knew stuff only Sage and Homelander would know. And I wasn’t sure, but then Ashley jumped ship and confirmed it-“ 

Annie blinked. “Ashley-“ 

“Jumped ship.” She snapped, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “At Red River. Don’t get mad at Hughie, I told him to keep it quiet while we were in DC. Ashley’s staying with Neuman, and they’ve both confirm that there’s a leak in either the government or CIA. It’s the government, because it’s Muller. I don’t,” She sighed, chewing on her lips. “I don’t know what the fuck Muller is doing, or what Sage promised him to flip, but it’s him. It’s probably the real reason why we didn’t get the V, but it’s fine. I,” She reached into her jacket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “Fixed it. Neuman told me there was an off-site stash of V for the government. Off the books, probably part of a deal for the government to help fund Red River. And I’ve got its location.” She leaned forward, passing the paper over to Annie. “Boston docks warehouse. We’ll need to take care of Edgar first, but that’s it. That’s our shot.” 

The limo was silent as MM and Hughie leaned over Annie’s shoulders, all three of them reading the paper—likely just some fucking evidence—and Butcher scowled at the air. 

“So,” Butcher drawled. “All we gotta do is go to Boston, nab some fuckin V from the federal government, and we’re bloody golden and set?” 

“Unless we fuck up,” She shrugged. “Yeah. And we can clean up Muller and Ashley after, but I think we need to clear Edgar first. He’s actually dangerous, and I’m not sure if he’s playing us or Sage. Muller’s just an idiot, and Ashley’s out of the picture for now.” 

“All she told you was there was a leak?” MM looked up from the paper with a frown. “Nothing else?” 

“She recorded Sage. And if she’s trying to infiltrate us, I burned out her tracker and she doesn’t have her phone. Neuman will keep an eye on her, and she won’t get anywhere close enough to us to get useful information for Sage.” 

“And how do you know Muller is the leak-“ 

“Butcher,” She cut off MM with a sigh. “What did Frenchie use to make the gas, when you met with Homelander and Sage in January?” 

Butcher frowned, something flashing in his eyes. “Agent Orange.” 

She nodded, and turned to Hughie and Annie. “And what did Sage base her gas on?” 

“Oh, God.” Annie shook her head, realization flashing in her eyes. “That’s not good-“ 

“What gas does Sage have?” MM grunted, looking around the limo. “None of you motherfuckers mentioned gas-“ 

“It’s against me,” Ben grunted, and felt Her hand cover his, still on her leg. “Homelander tried to use it during the tower fight. Pussy said Sage designed it after Frenchie’s.” 

“And only we know that,” Hughie mumbled. “Us and Vought. Shit-“ 

“That’s how I know it’s Muller,” She muttered. “And that’s how I know this is it. The V is there,” She nodded to the paper, slightly crumpled in Annie’s hands. “And we’re going to get it.” 

There was another moment of silence, broken by Butcher once more.

“That it, Love?”

 She nodded. “That’s it. We’re fucking finishing this.”

End Note: For such a stoic and emotionally stunted character, all of the Ben centric chapters sure do contain a lot of emotion.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: hermit crabs

There are some animals in this series that I relate with more than others. I kind of envy hermit crabs. I would love to have a hiding place I can carry around and retreat into to avoid social interaction. I'd keep some books and headphones in there. Hermit crabs are also an example of the internet's favorite part of evolutionary biology: carcinization, the tendency for many animals to evolve a crab-like body plan. Contrary to what some people seem to think, carcinization is something that happens in crustaceans only.

(Image: a hermit crab. It is a crustacean with a bright red exoskeleton with white spots and spikes. The head (with antennae and eyestalks), pincers, and two pairs of legs are emerging from a mostly white, conical snail shell. End ID)

Hermit crabs are over 200 species of decapod crustaceans of the clade Paguroidea. They are more closely related to squat lobsters, king crabs, and porcelain crabs than they are to true crabs. What sets hermit crabs apart from the other decapods is their asymmetrical bodies and soft abdomens. the soft abdomen is a major weak spot as it leaves the body vulnerable to predators. In order to protect themselves, hermit crabs have adapted to live inside of the shells of other animals, usually snail shells, but the shells of other molluscs have also been used. A few species have evolves out of the need for snail shells, such as the terrestrial coconut crab. King crabs (which are even more crablike than hermit crabs but still aren't true crabs) may also be a subset of hermit crabs that became even more carcinized and lost their soft abdomens. The relationship between hermit crabs and king crabs is an open question and a source of some pretty fierce debate. The abdomen is flexible and curls up, but is asymmetrical, usually bending to the right. This is so it can fit in the curling shell of a snail. At the tip of the abdomen are appendages called uropods that grab onto the inner column of the shell. The front part of the crab, including the head and legs, do have a protective exoskeleton. Of the 5 pairs of limbs, the rear two remain within the shell and hold onto it, the next two are used for walking, and the frontmost pair are adapted into powerful pincers. When a hermit crab retreats into its shell, it can use the pincers to block the entrance.

(Image: a mostly white hermit crab without a shell, seen from above. Normally hidden in the shell are two pairs of small legs and a long, soft abdomen that curves to the right. End ID)

The availability of shells is of vital importance to hermit crabs. They not only need local snail species to provide shells, they rely on the snails dying naturally or being killed by the type of predators that will leave the shell intact. A crushed shell is of no use. The availability of shells acts as an upper limit to the local hermit crab population. If there aren't enough shells to go around, those without them will die. The crabs don't just wear the shells, they remodel them. Through the secretion of chemicals and physically scraping at the shell's interior, the shell is hollowed out. This reduces the weight and increases the available shape in the shells. Remodeling is usually done by young hermit crabs. The shells last much longer than their inhabitants and the same shell can be used by generations of crabs. As the crabs grow, they will need to replace their shells. A shell that is too small stunts growth and can prevent the crab from retreating into it. A shell that is too large can be too heavy to move. Hermit crabs will fight each other over the best available shells. They will also attempt to steal good shells from other crabs. The attacking crab will grab onto the defender's shell and ram shells together. This continues until the attacker gives up or the defender leaves its shell. Hermit crabs have been known to form a chain of vacancy. When a crab finds a shell that is too big, it will wait for others to show up and do the same. Once one crab fits, it will abandon its former shell. The process will then repeat with the newly vacant shell until many crabs have traded. Shell fights and vacancy chains usually happen with the same species, but will occasionally occur between different species.

(Image: a pair of white and brown hermit crabs engaged in a shell fight. One hermit crab has climbed on top of the shell of the other one. End ID)

Hermit crabs are known to associate with other species of animal. Some species have a mutualistic relationship with anemones who grow on their shells. The anemone gets a place to live and transport while predators for the crab are warded of by the poisonous anemones. A genus of hydrozoans (tiny, anemone-like animals) called Hydractinia has evolves to live almost exclusively on hermit crab shells and are commonly called snail fur. On the other hand, barnacles or too many or too large anemones, can make the shell to heavy or too lopsided for crabs to use. Some species are known to tolerate the presence of small worms or amphipods who shelter in their shells.

(Image: a white and brown hermit crab in a large, white shell. On top of the shell is an anemone, which is a red, fleshy, flower-like animal. End ID)

While the vast majority of hermit crabs are marine species, there is a freshwater species (Clibanarius fonticola) and 17 land-dwelling species. These species spend their lives on land and only return to the water to mate and lay their eggs. All of the terrestrial species are members of the family Coenobitidae. 16 of those are in the genus Coenobita. The other one is Birgus latro, the coconut crab. While the other terrestrial species still wear shells, the coconut crab has a totally different lifestyle. This giant can get a legspan of 1 meter and weight of 4 kg (9 lbs), making it the largest terrestrial invertebrate. Their name comes from their habit of climbing palm trees to knock down coconuts, which they eat. While mostly herbivores, coconut crabs will hunt small animals and scavenge meat. They are also known for being curious and for stealing shiny objects, which gives them the nickname "robber crabs". Juvenile coconut crabs do wear snail shells, but as they grow, their abdomens harden, allowing them to live without shells as adults. Also, despite the meme, Amelia Earhart was probably not eaten by coconut crabs.

(Image: a coconut crab climbing a tree, with its head facing down. Its anatomy is similar to a hermit crab, but the abdomen is much shorter and has an exoskeleton. The crab is a dark brown color. End ID)

Hermit crabs of many species are kept in captivity as pets and in public zoos and aquariums. Terrestrial hermit crabs are more commonly kept as pets due to their easier care requirements. They are often promoted as easy pets that don't need much care, but misinformation leads to a high death rate and poor quality of life. Many species are marketed as living only for a few months when they can actually live over a decade with proper care. Hermit crabs are also notoriously difficult to breed in captivity, so they are usually harvest from the wild. This is leading to population crashes among popular pet species. Outside of the pet trade, there isn't a major fishery for the crabs outside of use as fish bait, though coconut crabs are edible and sometimes caught for food. Major threats to them include habitat loss, bycatch, and snail deaths resulting in fewer available shells. There has been a recent rise in wild hermit crabs using bits of trash such as glass bottles, plastic waste, and even light bulbs. These substitutes are less effective than shells and can injure or kill the crab as it tries to move in or out of them. Dead hermit crabs release a chemical signal that alerts other crabs to the presence of an available shell, which can result in the same piece of trash killing multiple hermit crabs. As of February 2024, 10 of the 16 non-coconut crab terrestrial species have been seen using waste instead of natural shells.

(Image: a brown hermit crab. Instead of a snail shell, it is wearing a plastic pipe elbow connector. End ID)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 2: Choose Love Or Sympathy]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra's wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook's Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother's life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting...

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, extreme babygirl energy, violence, serious injury, Larys Strong, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), Crab Family lore.

Series title is a lyric from: "7 Minutes in Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "XO" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 5.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰💜

A moment of clarity, something he’s having more of lately: eyes glassy but open, voice husky, words slow. His vast bedchamber in the Red Keep always smells like honey and rose oil and the brackish golden air that blows in off the ocean. Sounds float weightlessly through the open windows like feathers on waves, music and shouts and creaking wagon wheels, gull cries and sails cracking in the wind. Late-morning daylight is an aisle across the stone floor, a river, a channel. Aegon’s bed has been moved away from the windows; when his wounds are uncovered, direct sunlight can ravage him in minutes, fresh blisters, thickening scars.

Aegon winces as you sit behind him and knead warm rose oil into his back and shoulders. His flesh is a grisly mosaic: pink and crimson and white, knots of burgeoning scar tissue, spots that are still raw and weeping. “It itches like hell, does that mean it’s infected?”

“That means it’s healing. Do you want more?” You mean the goblet of pearlescent milk of the poppy on his bedside table. It’s always there, and refilled frequently.

Aegon shakes his head, groggy, slumped, white-blond hair loose and disheveled. “I should probably be sentient on occasion. You haven’t been helping me piss into chamber pots or anything, have you?”

You smile. “No. You’ve got servants for that.” Although they report their findings to you; Maester Arthur of Claw Isle once taught you that organ failure is a common cause of death for burn victims, even if they survive the risks of shock and festering. All appears well enough on the outside, and then they start pissing blood or their skin goes yellow as their innards lose their secretive divine cadence, that vital rhythm, and then the poor soul is gone within days.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon says. “A speck of dignity remains. It’s tragic enough that I now closely resemble an overcooked meat pie.”

You chuckle as you massage rose oil into his wounds, keeping the scars moist and supple so they do not split open when he moves, so his joints are not locked in place. He will need them when he is out of bed again. He will need them if he truly is the king. “I don’t think you look that bad.”

“Because you’re used to sifting through guts and corpses all day. I’m an improvement. I’m only half dead.” And just weeks ago, he was pleading to be all the way dead. He glances back at you, brow knitted into thoughtful furrows; you can see it between the messy locks of hair that shag over his face. “What made you want to study something like this? It’s gruesome. It’s miserable, thankless work.”

“I was never good at anything,” you tell him. “My sisters were, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t dance, couldn’t sing, couldn’t embroider patterns unless they were humiliatingly simple, and even then I loathed it. My father grew so desperate he encouraged me to try archery with my brothers. I accidentally put an arrow in the foot of a squire and that was the end of my bowwoman career.”

Aegon laughs, then groans at the pain it causes him. He turns around so he can look at you, clumsily repositioning himself on the feather mattress, propping himself up on his palms. He squints down at his left hand where his ring should be: gold wings, jade eyes. You will have to remind Aemond to give it back to him. “I was never good at anything either.”

You can’t imagine that to be true, and yet it’s what you’ve always been told, that he was gifted at drinking and whoring and nothing else. You cannot reconcile those stories with the man in front of you. You keep trying, keep failing. You slather your palms in rose oil again the then begin massaging it into his chest. Aegon watches you with muzzy, drugged interest, eyes like cold ocean currents. “Then, five years ago, my brother…” You hesitate. A real name, an imagined one? You decide there is no harm in this small truth. Aegon will not remember the name of a younger son of a Crownlands house; he barely recalls the men of his own Kingsguard, who now spend their days trotting around the castle after Aemond. “My brother Everett was burned very badly, just like you were, although his wounds were mostly to his legs. And we all thought he would die. People advised us to show mercy by giving him enough milk of the poppy to kill him. They said it would be a sin to let him suffer so terribly. Yet our maester believed he could save him. My father and eldest brother had other responsibilities to attend to, and my mother and sisters could not bear the sight of Everett’s injuries. But I watched the way the maester worked on him, and I just…I thought it was the most captivating, beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The way a body can be taken apart or put back together like stones in a wall. Place one here, remove one there, and then like magic you’ve changed the course of someone’s life. Our maester taught me how to clean burns and change bandages, and when Everett was well again, he taught me about broken bones, fevers, childbirth, wolf bites, dry drowning. I read every book on the subject of healing in my father’s library. He kept having to order me more from the Citadel. I think I would have liked to be a maester myself, but…”

Aegon grins. “You have to go marry your mystery nobleman.”

“And women can’t be maesters.”

“They made me king of the Seven Kingdoms but you can’t be a maester? Fucking ridiculous.” He studies you as your fingers—tenderly, carefully—press rose oil into the red scar that creeps up over his right cheek. “Why won’t you tell me who he is?”

He means your betrothed. Aegon keeps asking about him in his moments of lucidity. You quip: “I don’t want you to have him murdered.”

“That would solve your problem.”

“I preserve life, I don’t take it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Aegon says with a soft, tired smile. Very slowly, he reaches up with one hand to pat at his silvery hair. “Can you give me my braid back? It seems to have been washed out again.”

“Of course.”

“Why did you start doing that?”

What is the truth? Something you can’t tell Aegon. No matter how often I touch him, I want more. “It’s a war braid. You’re a warrior. You’ve earned it.”

“So I am good at something after all,” he murmurs. You rebandage Aegon’s wounds and help him lie back down again. You give him a sip of milk of the poppy, which by now is badly needed; Aegon’s face is sweated and pale and agonized. Then you clean the rose oil from your hands and begin weaving a small braid into his hair. He gazes vacantly towards the open window, bright warm light he cannot walk into. “I assume Aemond is…handling things.”

“Yes, he’s…” How will Aegon take this? Is it a relief, or a slight? There was a great ceremony. You did not attend; you were here tending to the Greens’ broken king. It’s where you spend most of your time. “He’s been made Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm.”

Aegon nods, his expression unreadable. “How’s Sunfyre?”

“Still at Rook’s Rest and gaining strength. He was climbing the cliffs as of a few days ago. But I’ll ask Aemond when I see him today.”

Now Aegon smiles again. “Sunfyre is fierce. He is extraordinary.”

“You both are,” you say as you fashion his silver braid; and Aegon stares as if he couldn’t have heard you correctly.

Her steps are so light that at first you aren’t aware she’s entered the room. You see her out of the corner of your eye and immediately stand, moving away from the bed, from Aegon. You feel strange touching him this way—unnecessarily, self-indulgently, greedily—in her presence. She is his wife, after all.

“Your Grace,” you greet Helaena, bowing. She does not look at you. She looks vaguely in Aegon’s direction instead. She is wearing a turquoise blue dress and her long hair pulled back from her face. The servants have dressed her, or Alicent; she cannot do it herself anymore. In her hands she holds a large glass jar of sticks and leaves.

“Hello, Helaena,” Aegon says, more like a sigh than a welcome.

She scurries towards him and sets the jar down on his bedside table with a clunk, right next to the goblet of milk of the poppy and a number of other drinks, things you ply Aegon with to keep him hydrated. Then Helaena speaks, her eyes on the contents of the jar. There is something else in there, you see now: a fat wriggling green creature, a caterpillar inching along the length of an upright stick. "For you."

“It’s very nice,” Aegon tells her, in a tone like a parent losing patience with their child.

“It takes nourishment and then rests,” Helaena says. “It is wrapped in a cocoon and stays there for a long while. But when it emerges, it is not just well again. It is greater than it was before. And it can fly.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Aegon makes no attempt to touch her—not even her hand, not even for a moment—but his words are kinder. “I am the worm. Thank you, Helaena. This comforts me.”

She is satisfied. She turns to leave.

“Your Grace,” you begin, and hold out your hands to her. She does not take them. She does not meet your eyes; she stares instead into the golden luminescence of the open window behind you. You can hear crashing waves and the screeches of swooping gulls. “I wanted to express…I cannot even begin to tell you…I am so, so sorry for your suffering—”

She spins away from you and sweeps out of the bedchamber. You are left looking at the empty place where she stood, heartsick and sorry. What did I do wrong? What should I have said?

Aegon offers you an apologetic smirk, but his eyes are sad. “It’s not personal. She doesn’t really like touching anybody.” This is an irony, and one that must read on your face. A king and queen—by definition, by necessity—do an inordinate amount of touching. He invades, she endures, they knit heirs together out of threads of blood and sweat. “What we have between us, it’s not…romantic. It never was.”

This is not something he should be telling you. It is not a jest but a spilling of deep, sacred truths. “I didn’t ask.”

“No. But you were wondering.”

You were. You return to the bed and sit down beside Aegon, finishing his braid. You choose your words precisely before you speak. “I don’t believe I have a right to know certain things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what you’re thinking.”

“Then let me unburden myself so there is no confusion,” Aegon insists, drowsy but fighting sleep. “There was no joy in it for me or Helaena. I tried to make it as quick and painless as I could, but still, her disdain for the task was obvious. It happened just often enough to conceive the children. And we haven’t even tried in months, not since…” He doesn’t need to say it. Everyone knows, Greens and Blacks alike. A son for a son. The murder of Jaehaerys, six years old and utterly powerless, in exchange for Aemond slaying Luke.

Do you think such a thing was just? No, of course not, how could anyone? Very few things that happen in this world are just. They come with passionate defenses but no mercy, no vision for a less violent future. The wheel goes around and around, and everyone takes their turn being crushed. “Aegon, I’m so sorry,” you tell him softly.

He shakes his head. He will not discuss it. Aegon’s remaining children, Jaehaera and Maelor, do not ask about him; on the rare occasion that Alicent brings them to his bedchamber, they do not seem to know who he is. In fairness, Aegon does not seem to know them either; he regards them with a dull sort of bewilderment, like one might peer down at a page written in a foreign language. In the hallways of the Red Keep, the children clutch at Alicent and Otto, and sometimes Aemond will take a few minutes to play with them, stacking wooden blocks or arranging cloth dolls in a miniature castle. But if ‘mother’ and ‘father’ are words the children know, you’ve never heard them spoken aloud. “Can I have some wine, please?”

“Did you finish your goat milk?”

“Resentfully.”

“Then yes. I’ll get it for you.” You pour Aegon a cup of red wine and then tilt it against his lips. He slurps the cup dry before his eyes dip closed. You set the empty cup on the bedside table, feel his forehead for fever—longer than you need to—and then rise to leave him. You are almost to the door when you hear him say: “Thank you for changing my mind.”

You turn back to Aegon, puzzled. “About what?”

“About wanting to be dead.” He grins and waves, a weak miniscule motion of his left hand. “Come back soon, angel.”

“I will,” you promise.

And only then does he surrender to blessedly numb unconsciousness, the only place in the world that doesn’t hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

You find Aemond in his own rooms. He is sitting in front of the large circular mirror on his vanity. His hair is long and straight and painstakingly neat, his tunic made of black leather. He is wearing the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Rubies fracture the sunlight and scatter it against the walls; Valyrian steel glints.

Aemond marvels, knowing that you’re here: “It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“I need more rose oil.”

In the mirror’s reflection, his lone blue eye darts to you. “You always ask so politely.”

“I didn’t want to waste your valuable time. I can be more loquacious, if you prefer.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He stands, taking off the crown and placing it—gingerly, with both hands—on his vanity. “I’ll see that you have everything you require.”

“I am eternally appreciative.”

Then he does something that he thinks is amusing, a little joke you share. He grabs for your arm and you yank it away just before his fingers can close around your wrist. This makes him smile; it’s one of the only things that does. “Now follow me,” he orders, striding past you and through the doorway.

You hurry after Aemond, dashing through corridors and archways. You know where he is going; this has happened before. As you ascend a staircase, Alicent is leading Jaehaera and Maelor down to the gardens. She has one tiny hand gripped in each of hers; the hem of her emerald green dress drags on the stone steps. She keeps losing weight. You stop to scoop Maelor up and hug him—he giggles, squeezing at your cheeks as you smack kisses onto his face—and then turn your attention to Jaehaera. She has just learned the rules of curtsying and loves to practice. You bow to her, and then she does the same to you, and while her head is bent low you ruffle her silvery hair until it is in hopeless disarray and Jaehaera is laughing hysterically. Then you kneel down so she can sabotage your hair however she sees fit. She pulls strands out of your sensible low bun until you give up and shake it all loose. Alicent—large dark eyes, demurely veiled auburn hair, somber and suffering—gives you a grave, grateful smile. Aemond has waited at the apex of the stairs for you. When you rejoin him he continues onward to the council chamber.

Inside men are taking their seats and already beginning to quarrel: Criston Cole, Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, Larys Strong, the knights of the Kingsguard. Sir Rickard Thorne pays no attention to you. Aemond once mentioned off-handedly: ‘Sir Rickard, I believe our healer is a distant relation of yours.’ The knight had glanced at you and produced some noncommittal reply, oh, indeed, sure, is that so. You had met before, you realized when you saw his face, years ago, at some event that brought together the houses of the Crownlands, a wedding or a funeral or a feast. He has a hazy recollection of you, but he cannot pin it down; he spent the evening with boisterous young men like your eldest brother Clement, while you had spent it with other noblewomen. Sir Rickard’s mother or sisters could probably identify you as a Celtigar. To Rickard himself, you can masquerade as some unimportant cousin he is ashamed to have forgotten. You assume your usual place in the council chamber: standing in a corner, trying not to be noticed, only there in case specific questions involving Aegon’s medical treatment arise.

“Is he dying?” Otto asks Aemond. “He must be. He has no interest in whores.”

Aemond raises his eyebrow at you. “Actually, I’ve been informed he is improving.”

Maester Orwyle beams at you. Upon your arrival in King’s Landing, he had confirmed to Aemond and Criston what you already knew: that while the Citadel’s guidance several decades ago was indeed pork lard or cow dung to treat burns, now there is a growing consensus that vinegar, honey, and oil for scar tissue are the best available remedies. You nod back. You are natural allies; the Greens’ king is under your joint care. You both have much to lose if he dies.

Now Otto Hightower addresses you. He is a stern, weathered, shrewd man. He reminds you of your father, though far more humorless. “When will he be able to fight again?”

“Fight?” you echo, stunned. “In battle? Months at least, my lord. Perhaps a year.”

“A year!” Otto bellows, then turns his wrath on Criston and Aemond. “I told you, I told you! I urged him to exercise caution, over and over again I warned him of the danger, and while I was penning letters to every possible ally you were pouring poison into his ears, convincing him that I wasn’t doing enough. Now look at him! Look at this goddamn fucking mess!”

“How fares the dragon?” Tyland Lannister says.

“I received a raven from Rook’s Rest today,” Aemond replies. “Sunfyre is eating well and ambulatory.”

“Useless,” Otto hisses. “Can’t fly. Can’t be moved. A waste of the livestock he’s being fed.”

“We may yet find a purpose for him,” Aemond says.

“Two dragons!” Otto explodes. “Can you count them?! We have two dragons capable of combat, and one of them is ridden by a fifteen-year-old. The Blacks still have Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, Tyraxes, and Moondancer. And gods help us if they find someone to ride any of the other unclaimed beasts on Dragonstone. Seasmoke, Vermithor, Silverwing, Grey Ghost, the Cannibal…”

“I hope they try to tame the Cannibal,” Criston mutters. “If we’re lucky, he’ll eat them all.”

“My lord,” Larys Strong says to Otto, clutching his cane; he has a habit of lacing his fingers overtop the handle and resting his chin on them. Larys is a watchful, quiet man who speaks rarely yet with great consequence. He is the Master of Whisperers, he is the Lord of Harrenhal, and aside from that he is an enigma to you. “I hate to be the bearer of unfortunate tidings, however I must speak plainly. I have just obtained reports that the Blacks are pursuing precisely the course of action that you fear. Jacaerys Velaryon is offering land and knighthood to any man who can mount a dragon and join their cause. The realm is littered with Targaryen bastards, I’m certain it is only a matter of time until they find at least a few candidates suited to the task.”

Otto slams his fist down on the table. You startle at the noise; Aemond glances over at you. “No king. No Sunfyre. Dreamfyre in the Dragonpit, who Helaena cannot fly into battle. A fucking disaster.”

“We have Vhagar,” Aemond says confidently.

“She is worth two full-grown dragons,” Otto pitches back. “Not four or five.”

“Daemon is the real threat. If I can eliminate him, the war is over.”

“Daeron should be prepared for combat,” Jasper Wylde says. “He is travelling with Lord Ormund Hightower’s army in the Reach, but he can easily be called back to King’s Landing. He could assist Prince Aemond in his pursuit of Daemon and Caraxes.”

“I don’t need his help,” Aemond replies darkly.

“Then perhaps he could safeguard the city once you’ve gone.”

“We cannot sacrifice military strategy on the altar of personal vendettas,” Criston says. “Dragons are best used on the battlefield against soldiers and castles, not on meandering quests to find one lone enemy, that’s a needle in a haystack, it’s a misallocation of precious resources.”

Aemond counters: “But if I can kill Daemon, nothing else matters—”

“It does matter, Aemond!” Criston roars. “I matter, the armies matter, winning the confidence of the houses you hope to rule matters!”

“How is Corlys Velaryon handling all of this?” Otto asks Larys. “The defeat at Rook’s Rest, the death of his wife?”

Larys answers: “He blames Rhaenyra for the losses. He has taken it badly. It is my understanding that he intended to withdraw his support from the Blacks, and was brought back only by Jacaerys giving him the title of Hand of the Queen. I am under the impression that Corlys may be willing to reconsider his allegiance if the circumstances were right—”

There is a knock at the council chamber door, not a knock but a pounding, not a pounding but a frantic drumming like the marching of soldiers’ boots. Sir Criston Cole unlocks and opens the door. Alicent stands there with her face flushed and shiny with tears. Instantly, Criston is at her side asking what is wrong, one hand resting protectively her shoulder, the other on the hilt of the sword he wears everywhere he goes.

“Come quickly,” Alicent begs you, only you. “Please. It’s Aegon.”

You race with her to Aegon’s bedchamber, hearing the screams long before you reach him. This doesn’t make sense; he shouldn’t be in pain this severe, not yet, not for hours. You are aware that there are footsteps thundering behind you, Aemond and Criston rushing to see if the king really is dying this time. In his bed, Aegon thrashes and moans. He needs to stop moving so violently; he will split his scar tissue like burst seams. Already you can see blooms of crimson appearing on his bandages where the wounds beneath have reopened: his neck, his waist, his ribcage. He is out of his mind. He is destroying himself.

He is shouting for Sunfyre, for Aemond, for Criston. He is back at Rook’s Rest being roasted alive in his own armor. Not dying, then; just having a nightmare. You kneel at his bedside and smooth his hair back, his braid threading through your fingers, and whisper to him that it’s alright, that he’s safe, that he needs to wake up now. Alicent is weeping, both hands covering her mouth. Aemond and Criston are watching you, mesmerized, transfixed.

Aegon’s oceanic eyes fly open, wide and panicked. “Where am I?”

And you smile down at him, your palm cradling his unburned left cheek. “The end of the world.”

He blinks. He remembers. His lips stretch into a grin. “There you are,” he tells you, voice gravelly and low. “I dreamed everyone was gone and you were too.”

“I’m here.”

“You aren’t in a hurry to abandon me for your burly betrothed?”

Cregan Stark must think I’m dead. “No, Aegon.”

“You can’t leave without telling me.”

Everett, Clement, my father, my mother, Piper, Petra, Penelope, they must all think I was burned to ash on the battlefield or murdered and tossed into the sea. “I know. I won’t.”

“You can’t leave,” he says again, a half-awake whimper as he sinks back into unconsciousness. You give him more milk of the poppy, enough to make his sleep deep and black and dreamless.

You reclean and rebandage Aegon’s wounds. It takes hours. Aemond fetches Maester Orwyle to assist you. Criston comforts Alicent, wanting to do and say far more than he can. When it is done, only Alicent remains in the bedchamber with you. She visits Aegon frequently, but she does not know how to speak to him; she always stands there clasping her own hands together, praying and stalling, desperate to show him love and yet incapable of it.

“Thank you for what you’ve done for him,” Alicent says, tears glistening in her umber eyes. “Not just the hours, not just the medicine. For everything that you’ve done.” And she embraces you, and when she does you hold her like she wishes her own daughter could.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night you see it repeating like a chorus of a song in the shadows that crawl across the ceiling: one year ago, stray snowflakes in your hair, stars in a black sky and air like metal.

The Celtigar fortune is older than the Targaryens’ conquering of Westeros, older than the Doom of Valyria. Where did the money come from? Friends of the Celtigars would say distinctively cunning maritime trade; their enemies would say piracy. Perhaps the two are not always so different. Is there any mechanism of accumulating great wealth that does not involve stealing in one form or another, of wringing out some other soul like a wet cloth until every drop of them disappears down your throat? Your ancestors did not tame dragons, but they had a different sort of gift: for every coin, they could find a way to make two or six or ten. Repeat that process for centuries and there are vaults filled to the ceiling with gold coins like pieces of the midday sun.

When Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of the Doom over a decade before it left Valyria a smoldering, fragmented wasteland haunted by demons and plague, only three Valyrian houses heeded the warning. Her own family, the Targaryens, relocated to Dragonstone. The Velaryons, having already long occupied Driftmark, resolved to stay there. And the Celtigars—merchants to some, pirates to others—crossed the Narrow Sea to settled on Claw Isle.

Crispian Celtigar served as Master of Coin to Aegon the Conqueror. Alton Celtigar was his Hand of the King. Edwell Celtigar was chosen to be Hand of the King to Maegor I, and later Master of Coin to Jaehaerys I during his minority. The Celtigars have never been far from the Iron Throne…though perhaps none were ever as close as you are now.

One year ago, your father embarked upon a trade mission to White Harbor. Never a man to squander an opportunity for new business, he added stops in Oldcastle, Cerwyn, and Winterfell, and brought along his four maiden daughters to stoke the desires of Northerner lords. Piper fancied a son of Lord Manderly, Petra caught the attention of a Cerwyn boy. But no offer was advantageous enough for Bartimos Celtigar’s liking; no deal could be struck.

In Winterfell, Lord Cregan Stark was already married. His wife, a childhood friend before she was a bedmate, trudged around the castle heavily pregnant and dragging layer upon layer of furs to guard her against the cold, often biting even in summer. Lord Cregan took little notice of your giggling, gossiping sisters, and even less of you…until he broke his sparring partner's arm in the castle courtyard. As the other women fled with nauseated faces back to their needlework, you asked Winterfell’s maester if you could watch how he set the fracture and managed the man’s pain. The maester was delighted—Northerners, as a rule, lack intellectual curiosity—and even allowed you to help bandage the wound once the split bone had been popped back into place. And it was only then, as you knelt there with your forehead creased with determination and blood coating your hands to the knuckles, that Lord Cregan Stark began to see you.

You have a fear of marriage, not a general aversion but a specific and powerful dread. When you were fourteen, you asked your mother if she enjoyed lying with her husband, and you had known as soon as she spoke with a careful sort of reticence—‘I enjoy feeling close to him, I suppose’—that the answer was no. When you were sixteen and your cousin Theodora married into House Bar Emmon, you went with the other noblewomen to inspect her bedsheets the next morning, and were horrified by how they chuckled at the large rust-like stain and recalled their own initiations into sex, this unavoidable rite of passage, this ultimate surrender. At breakfast, the men toasted wine and hooted and sang, while Theodora stared down with glazed eyes at her untouched bacon and duck eggs and said when Piper asked how the night went: ‘He wanted me three times. Is there anything I can do to make him stop?’ And you had thought: Aren’t unions like this supposed to be holy? What the hell do the gods have to do with it? Are they in the sweat, in the bleak resignation, in the linen of the sheets? Do they fill the man with blind lust like an animal’s, do they help hold the woman down?

Your eyes close as you lie in bed in the Red Keep, your room adjoining Aegon’s, and suddenly you are back in Winterfell again. You are making notes as the maester shows you the herbs growing in the Glass Gardens when Cregan finds you. He is tall and broad, made more so by the furs that engulf him like mist drapes the stony cliffs of Claw Isle. His voice is booming, thunderous, cataclysmically formidable. He is used to being listened to. He has never been expected to sit quietly as other men charted out his life like the route of a trade ship: here you will go, here you will be emptied of every scrap of value. He says he will give you a tour of the Library Tower. It is not an invitation; an invitation can be declined.

You walk together through the Godswood—dark water, blackberry bushes, crows squawking, gods you do not believe in—and Cregan tells you fond memories of his childhood. He likes hunting and archery. He spars in the courtyard for hours each day. He never stays still, he never goes quiet. He wants to know where you learned to marvel at the ghastly art of piecing broken bodies back together again. He wants to know why you are so different from other women. And he inquires with great fascination about the legendary treasures of your house, not just gold but rubies, jeweled cups, Myrish carpets and Volantene glass, a horn said to summon krakens from the sea, an axe made of Valyrian steel.

Winterfell’s library is sparse and dusty, cobwebs in shadowy alcoves. Cregan Stark thinks you will not notice. As he slips books about anatomy and herbology off the shelves to show you, you cannot help studying his hands, large and calloused and always stained with black patches of ink or soil or soot. They make yours look tiny and defenseless, skin of silk and bones like glass. You picture him claiming you, owning you, climbing into the marital bed knowing that you cannot refuse anything he asks for. You envision him forcing your thighs apart with those huge filthy hands, leaving smudges like ash. You imagine him tearing his way into a part of you that feels so small, so vulnerable; you imagine the suffocating burden of his interminable weight.

A moment of clarity, in the library beathing dust and Cregan’s scent, a woodsmoke musk, a wolflike wildness: I don’t know this man. I don’t trust this man. I’m glad he’s not free to marry me.

This was before the war began, before Cregan’s wife Arra Norrey died birthing their son Rickon, before Jace Velaryon arrived in Winterfell to forge the Pact of Ice and Fire. And when Cregan agreed to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, and Jace pledged to marry his firstborn daughter to Rickon, the Warden of the North decided there was one last thing he wanted inked into the covenant. He wanted an ally in the South, bottomless wealth, his future children to have Valyrian ancestry. He wanted a woman with vigilant, unflinching eyes and blood on her hands.

He wanted you.