#and now it's really hitting me that i am just back and have to face everything again and i can't i can't

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to domestic abuse, mild sexuality

"Daryl?" you called down the stairs. It was dark down there, but not entirely. You could tell he had a dim light on. "I'm coming down!"

When you passed the doorframe at the bottom of the steps, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed with a bottle in his hands. He was staring at it like the label was in a foreign language, even though you could read "Buffalo Trace" from where you stood.

"What happened?" you asked him, your voice seemingly breaking his trance. He looked up at you, almost sheepishly, but only for a split second.

Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and shrugged. "Nothin' happened. Least—not to me," he said pointedly.

Your stomach somehow seemed to both sink and twist at the same time and you opened your mouth to say something but you came up empty. You struggled for something to say. "Where'd you get that?" you asked gesturing to the bottle.

"Oh, I—I found it on a run a while back. I always got a bottle of somethin' tucked away, ya know. Never know when ya might need it." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"So, you're just planning on getting piss drunk then? Is that what this is?" you asked, and you couldn't keep an edge out of your voice. For the first time since you'd come in, Daryl looked up at you—really looked. He stared for a long moment and then reached over and set the bottle down on his nightstand with a loud clack.

He stood up, his broad shoulders and chest on full display as he paced over to you, his blue eyes narrowed. You found yourself backing up and suddenly your back hit the wall. A small gasp of surprise left you. Daryl still stepped in one more time, breaching that small buffer of space you usually maintained and staying there. "So, yer just gonna go back with him? Stay with him?" he growled.

You let out a shaky breath. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Yer s'posed to leave his ass before he fuckin' kills you. Or before I kill him," Daryl growled.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between his. "If I try to leave, then he will kill me," you whispered.

Daryl let out a long sigh and placed his palm flat on the wall beside your head, leaning toward you. With his other hand, he brushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "Ya really think I'd ever let a damn thing like that happen," he whispered.

Your heart was racing and your chest heaved with your breath now. You don't know for sure who started it—not for sure. It could have been that you reached up and placed your palm in the center of his chest and spoke his name. Or it could have been that Daryl simply crashed his lips down on yours, gripped your hip and pressed against you. It didn't matter. The next moment you were entirely wrapped up in him, entangled in each other. Before you knew it, he was kissing your neck and his hands were wandering your curves. Your fingers were in his hair and beneath his shirt, running over his strong muscles and hitching on his scars. Daryl lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him heatedly as he carried you to his bed and tipped you back onto it, crawling over you, desperate to keep his lips on yours or kissing your soft skin. One hand on your hip and the other smoothing over your arm and then lacing with your fingers, the heat between the two of you was building to a temperature that would surely consume you both.

But suddenly—reality came back and with a tremendous effort your ragged breathing turned into saying his name again. He felt you pulling back, pulling away. He leaned up over you and his blue eyes flickered over your face.

"I—I can't," you gasped, and it sounded like it broke your heart to say it. "We can't..."

You watched the turmoil roiling in his eyes. You hoped he could see how desperate for him you were... and understand why you couldn't.

"He dun deserve you... not that I do either," he breathed, still caged over your body, the heat of him pouring into your skin. He brushed your hair back from your face so tenderly that tears filled your eyes and you pulled in a stuttered breath. "But at least I'd always treat ya righ'. I'd never lay a hand on ya. Ya know that."

A tear broke out and ran down toward your temple. Daryl wiped the streak from your cheek. "I know," you said.

"We can have this. I can keep ya safe. Deal with him."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then don't. Just let me do it."

No prompt today... and maybe a full one shot on this soon? One of those things that just appeared and struck me until I put it down. I'm working on our next update to The Ghost series, but it's been slow going with real life things happening! So hang in there with me.

[trixy812]

Can I request an instance where jjk men have been busy lately and y/n sees jjk men out with another woman (she doesn't know the woman is a relative or coworker) and y/n shoots at them and just barely misses. 😂😂😂 preferably Toji, Sukuna and Shiu? I feel like those men would be the only ones that would be secretly turned on by their girl shooting at them

╰┈➤ JJK Men haven’t spent time with you and suddenly you see them with another woman.

୨ৎContent: suggestive, jealousy, toxic behavior, Female!Reader,

୨ৎAn: omgomgomg, this is my first request EVER and it’s from my twiniii <3! I am very happy about this and I really hope you like it and I just hope this is the beginning for a long a cool internet friendship <3 <3 btw, the end of Gojo's was inspired from a parks&recs blooper (Gojo has Andy Dwyer energy). I have to say that writing Toji and Sukuna was really hard, i hope I did justice to all of them.

୨ৎIncl: Toji, Sukuna, Gojo, Nanami

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚

It’s been almost two weeks without a hug or a kiss from your boyfriend. Although you’ve kept in touch daily through texts and calls, intrusive thoughts won’t stop tying a knot in your stomach. While walking down empty streets, you finally decide to focus on what your student Mai is telling you, hoping to clear your mind. But it’s impossible. Your anxious mind keeps conjuring up clichéd scenes: "What if he’s cheating on me?"

As if fate wanted to mock you, a few meters ahead, you see your boyfriend escorting an attractive woman to a taxi. You freeze in place, and Mai asks if everything’s alright. You watch the taxi drive away, while the knot in your stomach ignites, ready to make you explode. Without a second thought, you grab Mai's gun, not giving her a chance to react, and shoot at your dear — and potentially unfaithful — boyfriend. You miss.

ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!

Toji

Toji is surprised, but he’s having the time of his life. He doesn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. He stares at you, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile.

“Seriously? Jealous of my coworker?” he asks, trying to embarrass you.

"Coworker, my ass!" you yell, your face completely flushed.

Toji laughs, and although he’d never admit it, he feels flattered by your jealousy. He slowly steps closer to you.

“If you wanted to practice your aim, at least do it right” he says, spinning you around to embrace you from behind. With a provocative smile, he guides your hand to press the gun against his temple “I think this is the only way you’d ever hit your target.”

His taunting only fuels your anger.

“Relax, you have no competition” he whispers playfully in your ear, tightening his hold on you, pressing you against him. You can immediately feel his boner, which shocks you enough to drop the gun. He laughs wholeheartedly and let go of you as if nothing had happened.

Sukuna

Though he’s irritated, Sukuna is thoroughly entertained. He gives you that intense look you know well, one that shows he doesn’t like being challenged.

“Did you try to hurt me? How adorable” he says, his tone dry and dangerous “Are you insane?”

“You bastard! You’re the one who drives me insane with your stupid antics. Now, who the hell is she?” you scream as loud as your lungs allow.

Sukuna lets out a mocking, sarcastic laugh, enjoying the scene. Deep down, he feels flattered by your intensity, though he’d never admit it. He steps closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Jealous? Really? I don’t have time for this nonsense” he says, pulling back with a sinister smile. Turning his back on you, he dares you to react again. He glances over his shoulder, throwing you a challenging look “Maybe you do have reasons to be jealous, who knows?”

Each word only makes your blood boil more. You approach him with clenched fists.

“Maybe you should be more worried. Maybe she really was someone special” he says, provoking you even further.

You can’t take it anymore and throw a punch at him, which he catches easily. With his other hand, he entangles his fingers in your hair, tugging gently but firmly, tilting your face toward his.

“Calm down, darling. No one else compares to you” he whispers, with that blend of mockery and defiance.

Gojo

Although he saw the shot coming (I mean with the six eyes… duh), the sound of the gunfire still startles Gojo.

“Wow, that was a refreshing scare!” he says with a grin, treating it as a joke.

“I’m only going to ask you once: who is she?” your voice comes out louder than expected.

Gojo is thrilled, loving the spectacle of seeing you angry and jealous. Using his cursed energy, he makes the bullet float in front of you, mocking you.

“Babe, the bullet didn’t even come close enough to activate my Infinity” he jokes, trying to lighten the moment “Good thing hand-to-hand combat is your strength because your aim is terrible”

You shoot him a death glare, and that hits its mark. Gojo smiles, approaching playfully. He deactivates his technique and wraps you in a hug to calm you down.

“Come on, you know I only have eyes for you” he assures, hoping to see you smile before letting go.

Although you do smile, the irritation lingers. Taking advantage of his deactivated technique, you slap him.

“Do it again” he says, totally captivated, and you oblige with another slap. He writhes in sinuous movements, as if his entire body is struggling to escape an invisible hold.

“Do you have a… boner?” you ask, noticing his reaction.

He doesn’t respond, but it’s obvious. You smile, incredulous.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuude!" you shout, turning around and walking away

"No one has slapped me before" he stands there, beaming stupidly.

Nanami

Nanami sighs, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with disapproval.

"You shot at me? Seriously?" he says calmly.

Without losing his composure, he steps closer as a few tears roll down your cheeks.

"If you have something to say, I’d rather you say it than shoot at me" he says, surprised but trying to understand.

"I haven’t seen you in two weeks! And when I finally do, it’s by chance…" you shout, not caring if anyone hears. "And with another woman! What the hell, Kento?"

"I don’t think a scene is necessary. That woman is my cousin" he replies, not trying to invalidate your feelings, only to clarify. "You know I’d never do anything to make you doubt me."

He steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’ve missed him so much that you throw yourself into his arms as if you’ll never let go. In that embrace, Nanami realizes just how much his absence has affected you.

"I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. I’m sorry for not being there" he hugs you back, kissing the top of your head and gently running his fingers through your hair "You’re important to me, and if you want more time together, that’s exactly what we’ll have."

≽^- ˕ -^≼

Mai sighs in exasperation, watching the scene while retrieving her gun.

"And I’m supposed to look up to this person?"

[dadbodbuck]

WE'RE BREAKING UP

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.

WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.

GET AWAY FROM ME

hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/

anyway

Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 

He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.

But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.

Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.

“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”

Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”

And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”

“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”

It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 

“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.

Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”

“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”

“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”

Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”

Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.

When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:

Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?

I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.

Text me pls? So I know you’re ok

Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.

OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to

Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

The angst was so real (in the best way)! 😭

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

It does make sense, poor thing. 😭 She's so unwilling to believe he could love her the way she wants/needs, while he's hesitating to allow himself to do it. And I'm thinking he's fighting off some self-doubt/self-worth issues as well?

I love this journey of self-discovery for her, both with her brother and past, and with her expanding powers. It's pique Hero's Journey stuff! 💚

Plus, I really think that the creature is adorable, well, besides the murder tendencies. (I guess we could also say that about Ben LMAO)

LMAO factssss. Who could say no to that adorably confused grandpa face?

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

LOLL the slow burn is a killer for both of us! "The consequences of our own actions" is so deeply relatable for the writing process. 🤣🤣

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

Aw you're welcome! I totally agree. I love seeing that as well -- it's like getting a window into a person's mind through their living space. I don't like minimalism for that reason either!

Again, I was so on the fence about Soothsayer, but what you said about her being in "an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man" is exactly why I decided to include her.

Honestly it was a great twist! It makes her friendship with Ben more fleshed out and her own past, and how it serves to help the reader now. Especially now that it seems she's going to help get the reader and Ben together! 😂

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

God I can't wait!! lol And I totally get that. She really does seem to realize how deep her feelings run for him, but she's afraid, for the reasons you said. 🥲🥲

Mayyyybbbbeeeee...😉 Honestly, as much as I love reading fics where the reader isn't a supe, there's always a little part of me that can't help but see the reader growing old and Ben staying the same, and it always breaks my heart. There really is something so intimate and romantic about being able to truly spend your life with someone else, not just your life and then they go on for another few centuries.

Ooooh yesssss. 😏 And totally agree with you there! It's too bittersweet for me when you know one of them is going to die someday and the other keeps living on, carrying the weight of their memory. It's why I had to come up with that twist in BMD loll. Thank you for noting on that! It took some head scratching and BS science (and some inspo from my love of Smallville), but I think the reasoning was convincing enough on how the reader in BMD "caught up" with his longevity of life. 😂 I also love the idea of the plants giving her healing abilities and prolonging her life through that cell regeneration. 💚💚

It's my favorite line too! That and the bundt cake 😂. But you're right, he's afraid of everything that he's feeling and after Countess, he's not sure if he should fall for someone again.

Can't forget the bundt cake!!

Oh yeah, Countess sure fucked him up. 😬 That, along with the torture and years of being treated like a god in all other respects. 🫠

Oh Ben, he'll get there. He just needs some actual love in his life, and someone stubborn enough to not only put up with his shit, but like you said, "take a chance" on him. 😉

It's always my pleasure to read your stories, hun! Giving the feedback is the least I can do. 💕

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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

Reader POV

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

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

But you didn't notice any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what would I say?

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

He's really not the best at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it Darren.

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

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

Darren.

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

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

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

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

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

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

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

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

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

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She left without telling him goodbye?

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

“But what about Nicaragua?"

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

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

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

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

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

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

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

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

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

“When?”

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

“Was he mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

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

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

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

“I was never injected?”

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

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

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

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

“Was it really that bad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

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

“That’s so weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

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

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

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

"What does that have to do with anything?"

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

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait-"

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Di?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

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

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

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

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

The thought that home wasn't with him.

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

"No, not good."

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

"No."

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

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

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

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

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that?”

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

Wait what?

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

He hesitates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

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

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

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

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

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

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

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

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

“I-“

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

“I’m not-“

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

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead.

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

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

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

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

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

But why do I feel like-

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

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

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

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

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

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

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

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[villaingaze]

scepter shenanigans — part i.

loki laufeyson x gn!reader

word count. 3.1k

synopsis. thor’s been gone since the events of the dark world. in the meantime, loki has now proclaimed himself the ruler of asgard, but finds himself caught up in a mission back on earth.

tags. wacky mission to retrieve the scepter (tiny inspiration after watching thunderbolts trailer), canon divergence, enemies-to-lovers(ish), they have history, banter, humour, swearing, some angst, fluff if you squint!

animated dividers by cafekitsune

“LOOOOKI!”

You lunged towards him. Loki was caught off guard, his back facing you, and he gasped as you tackled him to the ground with a loud thud. Yet, human reflexes could never match those of a God. Instantly, Loki pushed you off of him. You groaned as your back hit the cold marble floor harshly.

A foolish, pathetic attempt, he thought. His hand immediately conjured a dagger as he crouched to your wincing body, and was about to raise it down when he realized — it was you.

Loki had last seen you four years ago. He called your name. “How did you—”

You forcefully kicked him in the groin, taking advantage of his loss of momentum. The grip of his dagger involuntarily weakened as it clattered to the ground. Seizing your chance, you swiftly took the weapon. You wielded it against his throat as you used your other forearm to push down against his chest firmly.

You were far too furious to realize that you were practically straddling him.

“Darling, if you wanted me like this, you could’ve just a—”

“Where is it?” you hissed. Honestly, it sounded more like a threat than an open-ended question.

“Where is what?” he heaved, still catching his breath.

“Your Scepter, you imbecile!”

“I beg your pardon, I am a God— ”

You edged the dagger nearer to his skin.

“Alright, alright!” Loki exclaimed, a wave of panic sweeping over him. At that moment, he truly believed you were capable of killing him. There was more reason for this, and he knew he could never earn your forgiveness after what he had done. “Believe me this instance, I do not have the Scepter!”

“Liar!” You yelled. “What business did you have on Earth?”

Your first instinct of Loki’s involvement was cemented when SHIELD identified his presence five days ago, aligning with the same time the weapon was reported to have been stolen.

Thor was believed to have been off-world, so he couldn’t help you access the Bifrost directly. Instead, you sought help just around 177A Bleecker Street. You were barely acquainted, and Stephen Strange was certainly less than willing and came off as rather prickly. However, he was eventually convinced as Loki was on his watch list of beings that posed a potential threat to the world.

In search of an incantation, Stephen bent through time and space, flipping through numerous ancient books in a split second. One moment, you were in a library, the next, you were at the bottom of the stairs. It was all very disorienting. With a wave of his fingers, he made work of his sorcery and eventually opened a portal.

You peered through the portal. You couldn’t believe your eyes; Loki was standing perfectly unharmed on the other side. He was leaning against a pillar, staring ahead of an open balcony, his gaze focused on what appeared to be a half-completed statue.

You had last seen him four years ago. When Thor had returned from Asgard and brought you news of his death, you were beyond devastated. The constant pang of regret and grief tormented your mind. Eventually, you tried to move on, and while you were able to get back on your feet, time never really healed all wounds.

Seeing him alive brought back a whirlwind of emotions. But all you could focus on was anger. You had truly believed that you lost him forever, and he had caused you so much unnecessary pain. Ridiculous. You should have seen it coming. Loki hadn’t really parted from his old ways, had he?

You continued to eye him with suspicion. “Strange.”

“Yes, indeed, this is all—”

“No, Stephen,” you called out.

Just then, bright sparks of orange flickered around the both of you, shaping into a portal as you both suddenly fell through. For a second, you were both falling into nothingness. Your heart lurched at the sudden drop, making you cling to Loki. He cushioned your fall as you both plummeted to the ground. You were back at the Sanctum Sanctorum.

“Well, that was faster than I expected,” a voice descended the stairs to meet you and the culprit. You took a moment to recover from the fall, and Stephen offered you a hand as you stood up. “Just so you know, I’m holding you accountable if things go sideways. Supervise him at all times.”

“No worries,” you replied. “Thanks for the help.”

Loki staggered to his feet. “Supervise me? I do not need—”

You grasped his hands, placing them in a pair of handcuffs. They were the same ones that Bruce and Tony had specifically developed to hinder his seiðr. Loki was chained for the first three months when he had lived in the Avengers Tower. He scowled as unpleasant memories flashed into his head.

“Seriously?”

“Move.” You hustled him out of the mansion.

You dragged him around to the spot where you had parked your car, and you sat him down on the front passenger seat, before slotting yourself at the front of the steering wheel.

“Ahem.”

You turned to look at him blankly.

“Safety,” he added coolly, motioning to his unbuckled seatbelt.

You forcefully stepped your foot down on the pedal as you drove off.

The drive back to your apartment was awkward, to say the least. Loki drummed his fingers on his lap. He repeatedly glimpsed at the window for a brief couple of seconds, before glancing around the interior of your car and circling right back to look at you. He was eager to say something. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You look well.”

“…And you’re not dead.”

Loki forced a laugh. “This is not actually about the Scepter, is it?”

You chose not to respond, keeping your eyes on the road. Loki noticed your grip tightened on the steering wheel. Perhaps, you were not ready for that conversation yet, he thought.

A beat.

“If you must know, I only went down to send Odin off to one of your Midgardian care homes.”

You eventually glanced at him disapprovingly. “You mean exiling a literal celestial being on Earth?”

“Well, I—”

“Hang on a second— are you telling me you usurped Odin’s throne?”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, folding his arms. He placed his legs on the dashboard, but not long before you swatted them down. “I devised a better way to keep things in control. His time is nearing, and that halfwit who calls himself his son has disappeared. I merely stepped up for that old man’s sake.”

Unbelievable, you thought, shaking your head. He was just as conceited as before and his old grudges had never waned. “So this is what you’ve been doing? Loki, I thought you ended this selfish pursuit for power.”

“It is not selfish! Asgard is more prosperous than ever.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that for myself.”

“And you shall,” he quickly added. “If we turn back now and you return me promptly.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Nice try, Reindeer Games.” He hadn’t heard that stupid nickname in years. You knew how much he loathed it, especially when Tony used it often to provoke him. “But I’ve yet to locate the Scepter. And I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until you tell me where it is.”

He stared at you like you said something utterly ridiculous. “Were you not listening to a word I said? I did not come back to this dreadful place to retrieve my weapon. You have my word!”

“Your word, Loki?” You seethed. “As if you aren’t already the most infamous Trickster God that they tell myths and stories about you here.”

“What, am I supposed to be honored?”

“No, Loki! Have you learned nothing?” Your frustration boiled over, and you instantly pulled the car to stop at the side of the road. “I don’t think you know how hard I fought throughout these years to pardon you for the irreversible damage you have caused. It’s always been personal to you, isn’t it?”

His eyes sharply narrowed. “This… this is your opinion of me? Do you honestly think I would—”

“Loki, I can’t trust you anymore!” You finally snapped. In the heat of the moment, wretched thoughts that you had tried to suppress for years came pouring out. “You lie, you manipulate, you hurt and you— you just leave! That’s all you… that's all you seem to do.”

It felt like time had paused. Embarrassment washed over your body. You couldn’t look at him. Eventually, you started the car again, and you both endured the silence for the rest of the journey back home. Loki had no words. You were hurting because of him. Then again, he always ended up hurting people anyway, right? Guilt flooded his thoughts as he simply turned his eyes to the window, watching the streets pass by.

2012

The first time you talked to Loki was… interesting. Like, actually talked. All you had done for the past week was hurl quips and flowery insults at each other.

It was late at night. You couldn’t sleep. New York never really slept, after all. You had dealt with thieves, mercenaries, assassins, but never aliens. The Battle of New York was entirely different, and you still couldn’t comprehend that any of it was real. The Chitauri had led a brutal onslaught, and their grotesque appearances painted a permanent image in your head.

You felt a presence suddenly behind you, and you picked up the faint sounds of cautious, deliberate footsteps.

“Can I help you?” You asked aloud.

The hallways were pitch-black, and Loki appeared out of the shadows. He sauntered to stand next to you, as you both stared ahead of the huge glass window that offered an impressive view of the city skyline.

He thought for a moment. “No, actually. In fact, I don’t think anyone here can.”

“This isn’t a punishment, Loki,” you reminded. “Your father sent you here for reasons, you know.”

“He imprisoned me here.” You heard the clink of his chains, his tone quickly turning acidic. “Learn humanity, he said, yet I do not see an ounce of it from any of you.”

“That’s because you refuse to see it.”

He snorted. “You mortals have nothing to offer anyway.”

You turned to observe him. From the angle of the moonlight, you could see the faint hue of blue in his eyes, and his slicked-back hair with the ends sharply curled. Oh, and he still refused to change from his ridiculous bulky armor. But he almost looked quite pretty, if he weren’t so abrasive in character.

“You know, for a God so arrogant, how are you so insecure?”

He didn’t respond.

“Thor told me about your little ruse in Stuttgart. You were made to be ruled, is that what you said?” You continued to goad him. “Is this all a petulant desire to be king? A jealousy towards your brother that has made you blind? Or that you are not—”

He had heard enough. Loki suddenly grasped your wrists, forcefully pinning them above your head as he slammed you against the glass wall. There was a dark look in his eyes as he glared at you. He leaned in closely.

“Don’t think for a second you know all about my grievances. Whatever Thor has told you about me is all in the perspective of his foolish mind.”

For a long moment, you both just stared at each other. Your faces were only inches apart. You could hear his breathing. Aware of the vulnerable position you were in, you knew that he could just kill you right there and then. But he didn’t. Instead, you caught the smallest movement in his eyes as they briefly flickered down to your lips.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Loki was taken aback by your sudden apology. It came out in a soft whisper, and never before had he felt a sincerity in your tone. He released you from his hold.

You continued. “But just… stop thinking you’re above everybody else, Loki. You’re being a real dick.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just because you were hurt does not give you the right to hurt others. You’re always saying that we’re mistreating you, but we only want to help you. You just don’t want to help yourself. Sure, Tony’s difficult on you and Natasha really hates your guts, but trust takes time, you know. And time works differently between us and… someone like you. But that means you practically have all the time in the world. So give it a shot. That way, you’ll stop making things miserable for us and yourself.”

Loki was for once rendered speechless. Aside from your remark at the end, he suddenly felt a strange warmth just listening to your words. The sensation was unfamiliar and indescribable, but it was… comforting. Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.

You snapped him out of his thoughts. “Hey, I got an open slot for a sparring session at 2.30 tomorrow, you game?”

“I… Sure.”

PRESENT DAY

You eventually reached the building, and you grabbed Loki out of the car. He followed, with no other obvious choice. Neither of you exchanged words until you were at your apartment door. As you reached for the keys in your pocket, Loki began to speak.

“What is this place? Why are we not back at the tower?” He wrinkled his nose.

“This is where I live.” You deadpanned, offended by his comment, “I’m sorry if this is not to your liking, your royal highness.”

You unlocked your door and headed straight to the table to turn on your laptop. Loki slowly took in the surroundings as he entered your apartment. It was a small two-room flat. There were stacks of files lying across your table, and some threatening to topple over. He walked over to a spread of newspapers that were messily plastered on your walls.

“Sokovia Accords Passed Into Law,” Loki read a title out loud. “The Avengers Disbanded?” He turned to look at you, where you were seated at the other end of the room. He tilted his head to one side.

You stopped typing your report midway and looked up at him, shaking your head. You weren’t up to discussing it at the moment. Loki noticed the way your expression turned grim.

He knew they meant a lot to you, regardless of whether he fully understood what had happened. They were like a family. Well, they were your family. Never really felt like his, anyway. But he understood what it felt like, only you appeared to have lost touch with almost everyone you loved. If only he hadn’t…

Loki couldn’t confront the unease. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, eventually occupying himself by opening every one of your cabinets. He proceeded to check the fridge, deciding to steal a fresh, bright red apple. He gave it a small toss in the air before taking a bite, as he walked to where you were seated.

You had pushed aside your thoughts and focused on finishing up the report when you realized that SHIELD had sent a new document to your inbox. You clicked it open. Loki stood behind you, raising his eyebrows as you both read the file. The revelation was like a blow to the face.

“Would you look at that? They’ve located the Scepter? Oh, darling, you have never been so wrong—”

“Don’t.” You could practically hear his smug grin.

You scrolled down further to check the coordinates, furrowing your eyebrows upon reading the information. “Avengers Tower? It can’t be.”

“I never knew Stark was so capable of—”

“No, he sold the tower a year ago,” you refuted Loki’s claim, reaching towards a heap of documents to pull out the contract you recovered. “…To a woman named Valentina Fontaine.”

You suddenly recognized her name and pulled up a profile on your screen. “She’s an ex-agent of SHIELD. It’s unconfirmed, but recent sources were saying she works for HYDRA now.”

“I suppose it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find out then.” Loki took another bite of the apple as he continued, his words muffled but still audible. “They seem like they barely have any intellect, after all.”

“What do you mean?” You turned to look at him questioningly.

Loki swallowed before he explained. “The Scepter is a containment vessel, in case you have forgotten. It simply wields an infinity stone and harnesses its power. But without a stone, it’s—”

“Essentially useless. Unless they are planning to… or they already have…”

“Exactly,” he replied, pleased you understood.

You were suddenly reminded of the times you both were assigned on missions together. The jobs prioritized efficiency and demanded them to be done quickly, which only made you more prone to forget certain details.

Loki, however, couldn’t care less about the nature of these assignments and simply went about doing things his way. He would take his own sweet time examining everything before deciding on a course of action. It slowed down the mission, and at the start, this made you extremely frustrated. More often than not, you both were sidetracked because of your lengthy arguments, and Tony had to butt in to stop the both of you from tearing at each other’s throats and compromising the mission.

However, with time, you only grew to realize that Loki was an asset to the team. More times than you could count, he actually prevented missions from going awry. It was more than you’d ever admit, but he turned out to be an exceptional partner. You only wished that the others realized this sooner. Although, you knew you couldn’t blame them entirely; Loki was intelligent and meticulous, but it also meant he could be cunning and manipulative, which was more than enough reason to be wary.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, standing to grab your jacket from the coat rack. “I’m heading out, you’re coming with me.”

“What? Could it not possibly be more evident? I have no involvement in—”

“Who knows, Loki? Maybe this is some elaborate, grand scheme you planned in that head of yours to fool everyone. Besides, I’ve got to supervise you so you don’t terrorize half the city while I’m gone.”

“You just can’t seem to admit that you’re wrong, can you?” He fumed, fighting hard not to roll his eyes.

Without warning, you snatched the half-finished apple from his hand, tossing it into the bin. You grabbed your car keys from the counter and headed out of the apartment. “Let’s go.”

“I wasn’t done eating,” Loki muttered to himself, rushing out to catch up with your pace.

[cherrielyme]

i like you best

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader | 18+ content | no other warnings wc: 2931 ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

It’s Liv who catches him looking first. “Don’t look,” she says, blowing the smoke from her joint out of her nose as she speaks. Someone has strung up fairy lights in the trees and she looks ethereal in their soft glow.

Of course you look, glancing behind you with an inhale on your own joint, feeling the pleasant burn of the smoke coiling in your lungs. He’s standing just outside the glass doors to the yard, staring with that single-minded intensity he gets about things. Obsession.

You blow out the smoke and look right back. He jerks his head a little, to the left, and you know what it means, know what he’s saying when you turn back around to stub out what’s left of your joint.

“I don’t know what you see in him, Ames,” Liv says, warning in her voice, her eyes tracking him as he walks back into the house.

“I know.”

She sighs, grinding out her own joint before checking her phone. 

“Hey,” you say. “You ok if I go?”

“Yeah. Jack’s gonna be here soon.” You wonder if she knows how much her eyes light up when she talks about her boyfriend, and then you wonder what your face looks like when you talk about Rafe. Actually, you don’t talk about Rafe, and nothing really makes you happy anymore, so there’s that.

“K,” you say, and move to go but she grabs your wrist and looks at you, serious.

“Be careful around him. I mean it,” she says, and your stomach warms at the worry in her tone. You guess some things still make you happy.

“He’s giving me what I need.” You give her a small smile, as if that will make it ok.

She frowns, but lets go and says “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

You trail across the backyard, not really in any hurry to get inside. Your head feels fuzzy, not too much, just a little bit, the way you like. You know he’s waiting for you. It’s quiet out in the yard, just the stoners and smokers and the Pogues who don’t care that it’s a Kook throwing tonight’s party.

The noise hits you like a slap when you slide the door open to the living room, the humidity hits you right after, and you blink a little in the dim light of the room, surveying the crowd inside. It’s a mix of people, mostly Kooks, some people you don’t recognize who are probably Tourons. There’s a harsh song playing, and someone has set up a strobe effect so you hurry through the room to the stairs.

The sounds melt away the further into the house you get, and you take it slowly, trailing your fingers along the wall. You know where he’ll be, see the room at the end of the hallway spilling soft light onto the floor.

You pause in the doorway, struck by him, just like you always are. He’s lounging on the bed, wearing a stupid pink polo and khaki shorts, and he’s barefoot, haloed in the glow from a lamp on the nightstand.

You shut the door, completely closing out the noise from the party downstairs, and you go to him.

He surges up off the bed in an instant, one strong hand around your waist, hot on the bare skin of your back in the gap between your shirt and shorts, the other tangled in your hair. He yanks your head back, and you gasp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, more teeth and tongue than anything else.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as you can. He moves from your mouth now, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw before latching on to your neck, sucking and biting at the thin skin there. You moan, wanton, knowing that the pounding music from downstairs will ensure your privacy, but not really caring if anyone does hear. Distantly, you think that you’ll have to borrow one of your brother’s stupid ascots to cover these marks at work tomorrow.

He nips at you, viciously, and pulls your hair harder, encouragement to be louder. You whine, and grind down against him. He grunts, pulling you down against him, and you feel how hard he is for you, know that the only thing keeping you apart are his stupid little khakis and your cutoffs.

Suddenly, you can’t wait anymore, and you shove off of him, wincing when he comes away from your neck with a sharp sting. You sink to your knees in front of him, swallowing when he comes up on his forearms to watch you, bracketed in between his thighs. His hair is mussed and his lips are swollen and red, wet. It’s not fair, that someone like him could be so beautiful.

You touch him over his shorts, reveling in the way his eyes close and his head falls back, the way he breathes out harshly as you rub him. You go for his fly, but–

“Stop.” His hands are on yours, pulling you away from him. You’re confused, and a thin coil of embarrassment threatens. He’s not turning you down, is he?

But no, he’s speaking again, commanding. “Stand up. Take your clothes off.”

You do, reaching for the hem of your shirt, but he stops you again.

“No. Turn around. Do it slow.” 

You stop, look at him. His eyes are dark and his eyelashes are thick as he looks up at you, face expectant.

You turn and give him a show, pulling your tight tank top over your head. “Fuck,” he breathes out when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. You hook your fingers around the waistband of your shorts next, slowly pulling them down until you’re just in your lacy black thong. You go to pull it down too, but for a third time, his words stop you.

“Leave it,” he says, and you shiver from the proximity and the need you hear in it. He’s right behind you now, breath brushing the back of your neck as he pulls your long hair over your left shoulder before licking a stripe up your neck and nipping at your ear.

Dreamily, you sigh, sinking back against him. He’s taken his shirt off, and you could swear you feel his heart beating as he presses his chest to your back. He wraps his arms around you again, caging your arms down against your sides so you can’t do anything but take it as he grabs your jaw with one hand, moving it to the side to give him more leverage as he goes back to ravaging your neck with his teeth. The other hand he puts on one of your tits, palming it and rolling the rapidly stiffening nipple in his fingers.

You can’t even drop your head back because of his grip on you, all you can do is take it, let the sensations wash over you. You can move your hips though, and you grind your ass back against him as much as you can, desperate to feel his length against you. And there it is, still tucked away in his stupid fucking khakis, but he’s shifted to, rocking gently against you.

He moves now, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed, and you think he’ll sit you both down, but at the last second he spins you so that the back of your knees hit the bed and you stumble onto your back. He goes with you, arms bracketing your head and hips snugly nestled in between your thighs. His pupils are blown, and you don’t know if it’s because of you or the coke you saw him do earlier or some combination of the two.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, barely a whisper, mouth so close you could capture it with yours if you leaned up.

“You know what I want,” you say, coy even though this is hardly your first time with him.

“I want you to say it,” he says, and your thighs clench around him involuntarily at the intensity in his voice. He notices, eyes crinkling even though his mouth stays in that harsh thin line you’re used to.

“Fuck me,” you say, barely a whisper, giving him what he wants. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget about everything that isn’t you.”

He smiles, just a little, just a smirk, but it’s just for you so it’s ok.

“All you have to do is ask,” he says, just as quietly as you, and then it’s like a switch has flipped and he’s a maniac, pulling his dick out of his shorts and yanking your panties aside before shoving into you in one smooth motion.

You gasp at the stretch, the almost pain of it. You’re wet for him, always so wet for him, but he’s so big, and he’s rough. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to him, already setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours.

He’s got one hand on your hip, fingers gripping so tightly that you know you’ll have marks in the morning. He lets go, just for a moment, so that he can yank one of your legs up to his shoulder, and you moan as this shifts him deeper into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me. No one else makes you feel like this.”

You barely hear him, so focused on the sensation, so good you could stay in it forever.

He doesn’t like this, and a sharp slap to your face brings you back. “Tell me,” he says, eyes hard, moving his grip down to rest lightly on your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just rests his palm there, implication heavy and heady. “No one else makes you feel as good as I do.”

You nod, reveling in how it drags his calloused hand against your throat, how you can feel his fingers flutter around you when you take a breath. “It’s just you, you’re the only one,” you say.

“Good. Can you come like this?” he asks and before you can answer he moves his hand down to your clit, pressing in with his thumb, tracing the smallest circles.

Can you come like this? Yeah, you can, and you do, vision whiting out a little with the intensity with which it takes you, hadn’t realized how much the anticipation and his huge cock splitting you open had turned you on, how close you’d already been.

You cry out, first with pleasure and then with oversensitivity as he doesn’t relent, just keeps pounding away and circling your clit. You try to wiggle away, you’ve barely come down and you can already feel another orgasm cresting, and it’s not entirely a good feeling right now, but he doesn’t let you move.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, leaning close and biting your bottom lip hard and then soothing the sting with his tongue. “You’re gonna come again.”

You nod jerkily, knowing the game by now. This is what you’d asked for, when you told him to fuck you so hard the whole world was him. 

He changes his angle, just a little bit, getting a better grip on the sheets next to your head and pulling his hand away from your clit and moving it up to your throat. This time he does squeeze, just the way you like, light enough that you won’t pass out but hard enough that you can’t take a full breath.

“Touch yourself,” he demands, and his eyes shift from your face down to where he’s inside of you, to where you slip two of your fingers to the bundle of nerves. Even at your light touch, your pussy jumps, tightening around Rafe at the sensation, and he groans, hips stuttering a little.

You can tell he’s close, and you want him to come, want him inside of you, dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night. The combination of your filthy thoughts, your fingers, and his cock combine, pushing you over the edge once again. 

“Oh, fuck, Rafe!” You cry out, strangled, and you can’t breathe and your pussy tightens as it spasms, and Rafe finally pulls his gaze away from where the two of you are joined, his head dropping and eyes closing as he finally joins you, his hips smacking into yours as he falls over the edge, the sound of skin on skin obscenely loud in the quiet room.

You moan again when you feel him filling you, his cock jumping as he comes. He lets go of your throat and you realize how light-headed you were. Dragging in a full lungful of air for the first time in who knows how many minutes, you let him manhandle you, tugging lightly at your hair until you turn your face towards him so he can place a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, and your heart hurts a little bit. When he’s rough with you, when he hurts you, it’s good. The softness is hard to handle. He seems to realize this though, because he doesn’t push you to answer, instead he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling bereft in his absence. The feeling doesn’t last for long though, because he’s already plunging two fingers into you,  holding your jaw so you can’t turn away from him.

“You only came twice. I bet you can go again.” With his hand on your jaw instead of the bedspread, he’s balancing on his elbows, and he’s that much closer to you. He doesn’t kiss you again, and you don’t kiss him, but your mouths are so close you’re breathing the same air. And now his fingers are curling, pressing through the mess inside of you to stroke your front wall and your whole body jolts at the sensation, so different from him pumping into you.

You let out another moan, still too overstimulated to do anything besides lay there and let him do what he wants. He shakes you, just a little. “Louder,” he commands. “I want everyone who comes up those stairs to know what we’re doing in here. What I’m doing to you.”

You acquiesce, your moan turning into a shriek as he does – something – inside of you that has you lifting your hips, involuntarily seeking more friction. He chuckles and you feel a blush forming on your tear-soaked face. He does it again and you’re really crying now, so out of your mind with overstimulation that there’s nowhere else for the emotion to go, both of your hands are on his arm, his wrist, clutching on because you don’t know what else to do and he twists his fingers again and tilts your head so his mouth is near your ear and you realize that he’s been saying something all this time, it’s just that it’s only now with his mouth so close that you realize it’s your name, he’s chanting it over and over again like it’s a prayer and– you shatter, screaming for real as you come the hardest you’ve come all night, practically gushing on his hand but he’s not stopping he’s still working you and you’re so oversensitive and his fingers are so big, you swear he added a third one at some point, and you don’t even come down before you’re flying again and you really and truly do black out at this point, the sensations just too much.

When you come back online he’s pulled his fingers out of you and he seems preoccupied with rubbing your thighs, massaging your combined fluids back into your skin. Of course he is, the freak is obsessed with having his mark on you.

You must have moved or made a noise because suddenly he’s laser-focused on you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and it would be too much, too intimate but he knows that about you, and keeps going. “I love when you cry for me. Because of me.” And maybe that should scare you the most, that he knows what he can get away with saying to you, dressed up in language like he doesn’t really care.

He doesn’t let you dwell on it though, because he’s sliding his hand, the one that was inside of you, up to your mouth. “Open,” he says. “Taste us.”

And you do, tasting the swirl of his bitterness and salt mixed with your sweet, almost tangy juice. His pupils are still blown wide, his blue eyes deep and dark in the dimness of the room, and you know it’s been long enough for the coke to wear off, you’re not even really high anymore either, so it’s just him and you now.

You lie like this for a little while longer, letting him wipe your tear tracks away and trail his fingers over your skin and look at you, deeply, in a way he can’t do in the real world, when he’s a Kook and you’re a Pogue, and not just two people like you are now. 

He gave you what you needed. The world is quiet now, your problems feel far away. You feel sore and wrung out and sleepy. And if he can give you what you need like this, then you can give him what he needs too. Someone to lie with. Someone to be still with. Someone to take care of, even if it’s just in these quiet, stolen moments.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

if you made it this far, thanks for reading! this is my first time posting my writing lol if you like it please interact! i love to chat :)

[maryonmega]

You didn't ask

It's an idea that came to me in a dream and I posted on AO3 a few days ago: Vaugardians have the capacity to turn into dragons. There's some brainstormed lore too, but I'd rather leave it open for any future additions.

I call it Draconic Vaugard AU!

Again, thank you, @chimerical-daydreams for the designs

You wake up feeling like shit.

No surprise there. You heard the Head Housemaiden tell you to rest and not use craft for a while, then used craft again not even plural hours later.

Not that you regret it.

Your body is stiff and sore, but you can still move your neck enough to look out the window. It's clearly well into morning now. The House doesn't loom over you like a haunted castle anymore. The birds once frozen mid flight now cross the sky as free as nature intented.

On the bed besides yours, Odile is already awake and flipping through the familytale you got her two days ago. Her craft exaustion is not as bad as yours. She didn't loop through time hundreds of times then cut through the House alone then turned into a wish craft titan. But she did stop you from looping. That took strenght.

You hear footsteps up the stairs. Careful, but still noisy.

"Frin!"

Despite the soreness, you smile.

"Bonbon."

They're not as careful now, marching to beside the bed you're in. They have a tray in hands, and an excited look on their face.

"The tall lady said you need to rest, so I didn't wake you up, but you still have to get your strenght back, so you better eat too! But Dile also said you must have had my snacks a bunch of times, so I made a breakfast I'm sure you didn't have in forever school!"

My, someone's hyper. Not that you can blame them. You have to get better, than you all can get on your way to Bambouche.

"Thank you, snack leader, for providing."

Bonbon nods with pride, and puts the tray on your lap.

You try to sit up. Your arms give in before you can rise too much.

"Oh! Right! I have to tell everyone you're awake!"

You hear them rush down. The weight of the tray a tempting thing over your lap. What's this? Punishment?

Odile smirks at you. She must have noticed. Traitor.

"Good morning."

"Please, spare me. I just woke up."

"I haven't said anything. Yet." She marks and closes the book, her attention fully on you now "How are you feeling, Siffrin?"

"Like I got stomped on by many horses."

Odile nods, serious.

"Thank you for your honesty. Please be honest with the person taking care of your medication, too."

"I only lied two times!"

"You've been like this for a day and a half. And spent half of that time unconscious."

She's got you there.

There's footsteps again. More than one set this time. Bonnie bursts into the room like it's a competition. You're kind of scared they'll hit their face on the foot of the bed for a moment but they stop on time. Mira and Isa come in at a more reasonable speed.

"See? They're still awake! And tried to move, too!"

"Already?" Mira looks actually glad. Good "You really recover fast, Siffrin. Uhn, don't force yourself to get good faster, though. You might strain yourself."

You try to give her a thumbs up. Your arm is sore.

"Need help, buddy?"

Embarrassing~

You still nod. Isa gets beside you to help prop you up and sit against the headboard. You can see your breakfast now. No wonder there was good weight! Bread, jam, juice, cut fruit, even a couple chausson aux pommes. Someone takes the "regain strenght" expression seriously!

"Thank you." You offer your best smile and scoop up a piece of peach with the spoon "You're a peach."

You got a laught. Morning victory.

Chomp!

Stars, without the smell of burning sugar lingering all the time you can actually taste food!

"So, Siffrin..." Mirabelle sits on the bed, opposite side from Bonnie "Where are we?"

"In the clocktower."

"What happened two days ago?"

"We unfroze Vaugard."

"And why are you and Madame in bed rest?"

"Craft exaustion."

"He is conscious. Good!"

She claps her hands and straights her back.

"Am I losing something?"

On the other bed, Odile put the familytale on the headboard.

"You see, we intent to-"

"WE'RE GOING TO NILLE AS SOON AS YOU CAN STAND!"

"Boniface!"

"Sorry! But yes! You just need to get to stand again!"

"Well, being able to stand is just the The reference. Walking would be much better." Isa adds, and gives a half chuckle.

You swallow your food and look at him just to have a focus point.

You know just because you can walk doesn't mean you should walk long distances, specially as soon as you're able. Sure, if your friends want to go as soon as possible you can endure it, but...

"Isn't that a little risky?"

"A little, but it's faster." You can't argue with Mirabelle on that "That's why I think you should go on Isabeau." Wait, what? "He's bigger and his shape makes it easier to get a grip lying down. You can get some rest! I guess? You should probably do a test first? I know Madame Odile will be better too so she can go on me."

What?

Beside you, Isa nods.

"Right... Are you really okay with flying, Madame?"

What????????

"I'll survive, I guess. As long as Mirabelle doesn't mind getting more ties than a race horse."

"He, I'll survive too."

"Wait? What?! Fly?!?!"

Bonnie pouts.

"Of course we'll fly! The birds unfroze too, so it's safe now!"

"No! I mean, I know, just-!" You take a bite of one of the apple pastries. Delicious "How are you even going to do that?! And you're talking like it's no big deal!"

"Because, it's not?" Mira is looking at you with confusion "Wait, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"We can turn into dragons."

...

You pinch your arm with nail.

Ow.

You're still here.

Wait a minute!

"You're pulling a prank on me!"

Odile opened her mouth. Before she spoke, Bonbon took a leap back, and-

It wasn't done in a flash, but, once it was, Bonbon was like a big eel with wings.

You think you're going crazy.

"Wh- I- You- Why didn't any of you do that all this time?!"

This time Isa responded.

"We didn't need to? Sure, flying is fast traveling, but you saw the birds, we didn't want to risk it. Tents and inns made to accomodate dragon forms are too expensive for long traveling. And, you saw Bonbon just now, it's not exactly puf and done, so not a good option when ambushed by an angry sadness."

This makes so much sense it's somehow making you feel crazier.

Little dragon Bonbon landed beside your legs on the bed, legless body slithering over the sheets. They look adorable.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Mira looks embarrassed. Oops, you said something wrong.

"I thought you knew." She looks away, fidgeting with her fingers.

How would you know when nobody tells you?????

"And, it's not like we talk about this all the time. It's weird!"

When your bafflement wears off, half of the breakfast is gone.

"How is it weird to talk about being dragons?!"

"Well Sif, think." Isa places a hand behind your back "It's just how Vaugardians are. Just another part of our lives. It would be like going to a place where people are like "Hello, I'm human", y'know?"

You nod.

...

No. You're not petting Bonnie like a dog. That's still a person.

You down the rest of your fruit.

"Why did you need the orbs, then? Couldn't you just, break down the gate?"

Silence. Were... Were those months of traveling for no reason?

Mira visibly holds back from picking at her nails.

"Siffrin, do you know what the orbs are?"

You're quiet, then shake your head.

"They're craft breakers. Very powerful craft breakers."

"Okay, what does that have to do with not breaking down the gate?"

"Houses of Change have shield craft on the outside. It's a particularly powerful craft, made by multiple people at once. So nobody can be made to break a House from outside. Even if multiple people do so as dragons."

... Oh.

"Combine with the time freeze, and it would be a lost battle. Thankfully, five orbs were enough to break the time craft. But, if they weren't, hopefully they would be powerful enough to break the shielding."

Oh.

Just... outside? Does that mean that the insides are breakable?

They are. You know they are. You broke that counter. Does that mean the other doors were breakable, too?

If... If you weren't so hasty to freeze yourself, would them decide that turning to try and break the door was an option?

"Something on your mind Sif?"

LIGHTLESS CODE LIGHTLESS CODE THINK OF SOMETHING!

"So all those stories about hoarding dragons are racist?"

Mira gives you an awkward smile.

"I, don't really want to say yes. Every tree bears bad fruit, and the loud ones get more noticed. If there's any type of predisposition, it's to get hyperfixations. For exemple, you can say I "hoard" classes."

You hear Bonbon make a noise, and see them wiggle and land on the floor. A bit of time, and they were a smiling human again.

"Oh! Oh! I guess I hoard recipes, then!"

"Interesting." Odile hums, and her gaze gets in your direction. What- "Do you hoard anything, Isabeau?"

Isa gives a big nod.

"Friends!"

Mira's face goes from awkward to pondering, and then realisation.

"Wait! So those cuddle piles after getting the orbs...?"

"Sleeping over my hoard."

You can't help but chuckle. He looks so proud, too!

"Why the surprise? Isn't your room on the last floor with dorms, Mirabelle?"

Mira starts stuttering. Poor lady. On the other side, Bonnie pouts.

"That's dumb. I don't sleep over recipe books."

"Maybe your time will come. You don't know."

Mira's turn to give a mischievous smile.

Stars, you could hear them for hours.

"Okaaaay, so, I'll have to see if I can safely ride Isa?"

You hear a squeak, and the hand on your back gets taken off so fast you hang way from the headboard for a couple of seconds.

"Sif! Don't say it like that!"

"Why? It's what I'll do, right?"

Odile is smiling so broard. What?

"Young one, you need to learn some Vaugardian idioms with urgency."

You blink.

You've been really left out, haven't you?

--------------------------------------------------------------

You're able of walking! A little bit. You need help to walk more than a couple of meters, but it's progress! Progress enough to do the test, it seens.

Bonnie lets go of your hand and gives you a pat on the side.

"Ask to get down if you need to, okay? Don't need you falling off and needing extra rest to recover from broken bones!"

Of course that's how they say it.

You nod.

"Alright, Za! Do the thing!"

"Your wish is my command!"

Just like before, it's not a snap of fingers.

You're not sure what you were expecting. You didn't expect Bonnie to be a winged eel. You think whatever came would take you aback.

Isa looks like a large lizard with wings, scaly and with a set of horns. Curiously, still regornizable. You... actually like that.

He lays on the floor, and moves his tail, inviting. Mira helps you get on his back, then backs off to where Odile is waiting with a saddle and chains. You can't judge her.

Another little scene, and you see Mira in all her glory. She looks like a mix between a snake and a bird, full of feathers. Regornizable. Bonnie too. All three are regornizable on those forms.

Hum, maybe that's why body craft is still prevalant. Maybe they don't really control how the forms will be without it.

You're unsure of what to do with your hands, then finally decide to just grasp the horns.

It's not so odd when you feel him lift into his paws. It is when he spreads his wings and starts lifting. And lifting. And lifting. You see the ground get farther. Without thinking, your grip tightens around the horns.

You... think there's an ulterior motive to choose this.

They must have missed flying.

[deanx444]

PornStar Nicholas Chavez

18+

(Y/N POV)

I woke up at a reasonable time for work today. I just turned 21 and started my career in adult film last year, so I think I have been getting the hang of it. As I am getting up for work, I check my phone to see who I am working with today. I got a text from my close friend, who is also the director of today's film.

Text message from Tommy:)

Hey hun, today you are working with one of the two options: someone you've worked with before or someone new, either Sam or Nicholas.

I look at the phone and sigh. I have worked with Sam a couple of times, but it was actually really painful. I have never met this Nicholas guy or had a feeling that I knew him.

Hey Tommy, who is the Nicholas guy?

delivered

As I wait for his response, I go to the fridge to grab milk and creamer to make myself a coffee. I hear my phone buzz. I pick the phone up and read the text.

He's new to the industry. Big guy, around 6'5, and holy sexy.

I look at the text and text back immediately.

Is he new to the industry? Am I his first video? His first big adult film actress?

Tommy: I would think so, he's on set right now with me, come to the Hotel you went to last time. Be there in 30 minutes.

I like the message and finish making my coffee. I walk into my room, put on a shirt and sweatpants, grab my keys, go to my black Mercedes, and turn it on.

As I wait for the car to heat up, I get a notification on my phone.

Unknown Number:

Hi Y/N, it's Nicholas! I cannot wait to meet you; I hope you aren't freaked out because this is my first film. I think we will have some fun ;)

I stare at the phone with my mouth slightly open. I was not expecting him to text me that quickly.

I like the message and start driving to work. Not knowing how this will play out.

Once I arrived, I went in and talked to the manager of the hotel, and he showed me where the room that we would be using for this scene. Once I got into the room, I saw a king bed with white sheets and a white blanket. I look around the area to find Tommy talking to who I believe is Nicholas. I walk over to them and see Nicholas's expression change on his face.

"Ah, yes! Here she is! Nicholas, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is Nicholas," Tommy says

"I know," he replies, shaking my hand. "It's nice to meet you in person, Y/n"

"You too," I replied and smiled slightly.

I could see him start getting more and more excited, knowing that today would be his first time in the industry. I started talking to Tommy about how the scene would go, and it was a stepbrother-step-sister video. Those usually go hardcore, but I am not sure how fast Nicholas is going to catch up.

"Alright, guys, let's start getting everything ready, Y/N, go put this on," Tommy says, giving me a cute bra and underwear set to make me look believable that it wasn't just false acting. I go and throw it on with a white skirt he gave me as well.

"Y/N, this is your room. You are going to be looking at your phone and playing with yourself with a photo of Nicholas as your background." Tommy says I nod my head and start getting ready to lie down on the bed and get in position for this scene. Nicholas is in a towel, waiting for the cameras to start rolling so he can come on.

Action

As the cameras start to roll, I get into character as a spoiled step-sister making bad choices and playing with myself while looking at my stepbrother's photo.

"Hey, Y/N-" Nicholas walks in, sees the sight, and acts confused, seeing the boner in his pants grow larger.

"Oh uhm- it's not what it looks like-"

"What does it look like then? Because it looks like you're rubbing your pussy to a photo of me,"

I pretend to act all innocent, but he takes no time to grab me and flip me over.

I felt a sharp pain hit my ass, and it was his hand slapping me. I moan out of pain and pleasure.

"You've been a very bad girl, you know what I need to do," he says, lifting my ass and putting me in doggy. I feel his breath come closer to my clit, and I feel his mouth attach itself to me. I feel my eyes roll back for actual pleasure. Something I've never felt in the industry before. I feel him go in a circle around my clit with his warm tongue, and as he lets go, he turns me back around and shows me his big dick poking out from his towel.

"Take the towel off me since you want to see what's underneath it so bad," he says as I quickly take the towel off of him he grabs my face and gives me a look showing that he wants me to suck his dick. I grab his dick, and fuck is it big. I then take his member and place it on my tongue, feeling himself jolt forward and throwing his head back.

Seeing this made me want to burst. I didn't know what I was feeling, but I knew it was something strange that had never been felt before. I feel him push my head lightly back and forth, wanting more but not forcing it.

Respectful...

He removes himself from my mouth, gets on top of me, and slips himself inside of me. I feel my eyes roll back as he starts choking me. I feel his face come closer to mine and kiss my lips. I kiss him back, and it turns into a passionate rough kiss where he moves himself down from my lips to my neck, then down to my tits. I feel him come back up to me, put his face to my ear, and whisper lightly.

"Let me know if you want me to slow down, pinch me whenever," he says quietly.

I nod as he goes back into character, "You like being a dirty slut to your stepbrother? Huh? You like it"

"Yeah, I do, I fucking love it," I cry as he grabs my face and spits in my mouth. I feel my eyes roll back again, and he smirks at the sight.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," he says,

I feel him lift me again into doggy, and without warning, he pushes himself inside me. I let out a small scream as he grabbed my hair and pulled it back into his hands. I feel him go harder inside of me and feel the way that he is moaning slightly, seeing that he is gaining pleasure from this, too.

I feel his thrusts become sloppier and harder as he pulls himself out of me, flips me back around, and cums all over my face. The look in his eyes when he did it was so fucking hot. He looked so comfortable to do it.

"We won't tell Mom and Dad about this, right?"

I nod my head, and we hear Tommy scream cut.

"That was amazing, guys!!! I hope we can all work together again after this!"

"Yeah, me too," Nicholas and I say in synch as we look at each other and smile.

"Text you guys when the film is out! We got fucking stars over here!!"

Nicholas, you are a fucking pro.

----

MORE ON WATTPAD DEANX444

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[tambourineophelia]

exhaustion induced panic attack incoming

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

She convinced herself. This is also why I can swallow the 2nd almost marriage - she wants to believe the fairytale. I don't believe she ever thought it was true love but I think she thought they were both trying to make an honest go of it. What kills her is being made a fool of in that way. Because let's go back, why did Dorothy marry him? Because she was pregnant, which actually means because she couldn't/wouldnt get an abortion, because she's from a religious family (interestingly it seems they're both from poor immigrant backgrounds). She married him to make everyone else happy, because it was "the right thing to do". Because it meant she wasn't just an easy girl, she could be a good wife and mother (her baby wouldn't be a bastard)- and he destroyed that and in doing so destroyed her in a sense. So yeah, she had every reason to make herself believe that it wasn't happening, to beloeve she hadnt made another mistake.

You make a very compelling argument, anon. After the wedding, it likely became a matter of sunk-cost fallacy for her: she sacrificed so much (of herself and for herself) to become Stan's wife and the mother of his children, so it had to work, no matter what -- because the alternative was that she'd given up her youth, her happiness, her dreams for a whole lot of nothing. And the more time passed -- the more Stan dug this hole around her -- the more painful the idea of letting go became, because she'd invested so damn much in this marriage. It's hard to let go of something when you've given your entire self to it.

I can totally see her telling herself that it's all in her head and choosing to believe Stan's lies because it hurt less than the alternative, and then being completely taken aback when he left (without even the decency to tell her in person, mind you). I recall her saying that she spent a lot of time being holed up in her room after the divorce, until Sophia managed to get her out of her depression, and I mean -- is it any wonder? The ground she'd walked on for years literally disappeared under her feet in the span of one phone call.

I feel like there's some space to think she was honest with herself about it -- a sort of Glen situation in which she knew what was happening, suffered because of it, but still decided not to act on it -- but the self-gaslighting seems more likely, for two reasons:

I think if she'd been fully aware of Stan's infidelity she would have ended up confronting him about it, either during or after their marriage, but in S2E13 he clearly thinks she didn't know about his affairs (except the one that led to the divorce).

It's just in character for her, as you say. She wants to believe that she's fine, that her marriage is working, that Stan really does love her, no matter what. This has been pointed out before a few times, but whenever Stan does something decent in the show she just completely melts, and you can tell this is learned behaviour. She's conditioned herself to believe in him and survive on crumbs of his affection (until she couldn't anymore, that is).

So yeah, this hypothesis makes sense (perfect, heartbreaking sense) to me too.

[tramontane-fire]

food/ed talk

[fantabulousfelix]

man it's bad tonight huh

[diaz-fox]

had an experience today at the cinema lmao