#currently both at...17 I believe

[lizardsfromspace]

The factchecking this cycle has been so profoundly incompetent that it's finally getting some real backlash, but the extent of it really should be clear. So much of factchecking is not based in reality, but in a kind of contorted moon logic that can find true claims to be false and false ones to be true based on wildly inconsistent reasoning.

But this one really shows off some of the base assumptions of modern factchecking, and also bc it got a community note which is funny:

Let's take this one by one

The idea that quotes have any options but "he said it" or "he didn't say it". It is a binary, maybe with a third option of "it was clipped wildly out of context", but something you see constantly now is the idea that quoting someone's direct words without deceptive editing or removal of context can somehow be false

Pointlessly noting that it's from 2016, and that it's not clear if he currently believes it. What the hell does that matter to the question of if he said that in 2016? People understood that the "dig up someone's tweets from when they were 17" thing was inane, but they counter-balanced by apparently deciding that citing anything someone said more than about six months ago is Misinformation if we don't have objective evidence they would say the exact same thing now, even if there's no evidence they believe anything else. Analyzing someone's high school tweets and analyzing something the literal President said seven years ago are not equivalent

Noting that he walked it back following criticism. You see this constantly, too. Again, what does that matter to the question of if he said it? But this is just taken as a given now: if someone gets blowback and says "whoops I didn't mean it", that should be taken at face value. Effectively, Politifact is letting Donald Trump self-factcheck Donald Trump: their only evidence (and I read the article too) this is at all false is that Donald Trump said Donald Trump didn't really mean the words he said, so they must agree with the judgment of Donald Trump that Donald Trump was treated so unfairly here.

A general confusion over what factchecking is. If you're asked "did Donald Trump say this in 2016?", your sole job is to determine if he really said that in 2016. It's not to divine if he, deep in his heart, still believes it now. That's completely irrelevant.

The two guiding principles of modern factchecking are this: one, it's strongly rumored - and also, obvious to everyone literate - that the major factchecking sites have either standing orders to find equal numbers of lies on both sides, or are staffed by people who think it's their job to hold both sides equally to account (the exception is Snopes, whose writers are just terrible at their jobs). In the name of this, Donald Trump can say something on camera only for it to be judged false, while a Democratic politician can be excoriated for mildly rounding down a figure in a speech. A factchecking website once determined that saying climate change was a threat to life on this planet was a lie, because climate change won't kill all life on this planet. Politifact's lie of the year one year was a Democrat saying a Republican plan would "end Medicare as we know it", which was judged to be a lie because it wouldn't literally end Medicare completely. Figurative language needs to be scoured, comments said directly on camera need to be made fuzzy. This makes factchecking sites worthless at factchecking, because what even is this?

It's not true that Donald Trump will refuse to accept the election results, because he's merely said he won't accept, and has said if he loses, it's only because the election was fraudulent. Okay, what, do you demand that people prove he said his plans in exact words? What is the actual, functional difference between "he said he won't accept it" and "he said if he loses it's because he won and they stole it from him, and he won't commit to saying he'll accept it"? What are you talking about, who is this for? When you go to the Logic and Reason Site for Debunking & end up having to puzzle out their convoluted logic and reasoning to understand anything, the plot's been lost a bit

The other is the idea that context is exonerating. Any context at all. If they said they didn't mean it, partially false. If they walked it back, partially false. If they said it was taken out of context, partially false. If they said it a certain number of years ago, partially false. If there's a longer video, even if it shows functionally the same thing, pants on fire, five pinocchios.

Again, we have footage of Trump saying this, and the footage in the ad is unedited, and the factchecking website is declaring something that OBJECTIVELY HAPPENED WITH HARD EVIDENCE IT HAPPENED didn't really happen bc we don't know his heart, maybe he believes something different now, we simply can't know for certain. But we do know for certain. Because "false" at least used to mean "didn't happen". But factchecking sites are now on those Beyond Belief definitions of "true" and "false" I guess

But the real problem here is that they just accept anything someone being factchecked says at face value. Because, and I can't believe I'm saying this

It seems like the people paid to determine if other people are lying...have forgotten that people lie sometimes

[reiderwriter]

Please Accept My Apology

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After three days spent trying to convince the BAU that they had made a mistake, Spencer Reid shows up at your door to offer his apology.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, smut 18+ minors dni, slight age gap, penetrative sex, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, hints of bdsm, implied creampie etc.

You can find my masterlist here and my 2024 song fic challenge here (don't forget to send song recommendations to my inbox!)

You never thought you'd ever see the inside of an interrogation room before this week. Now you didn't think you'd ever see the outside of it.

“Y/N, you're brother ran from law enforcement multiple times, if you know where he is you need to tell us or you'll be charged with accessory to murder and kidnapping after the fact. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it isn't what I want, but I already told you I can't fucking help you!”

You paced in the boxed room, feeling closed in and hot.

Your brother - your innocent brother - was the key suspect in a series of child abductions and murders, and as he'd ran from law enforcement multiple times, they'd dragged you into the police precinct to try to track him down.

For the last three days, you'd been stuck sitting at that table across from Doctor Spencer Reid, waiting for the worst news of your life, because you knew it was coming.

“He's not a murderer. He's mentally ill, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. I keep telling you that, why won't you believe me?”

“A lot of loved ones protest a suspect's innocence, right down to the last second.” You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from the depth of your chest.

“My brother is schizophrenic. He was violent before, sure, he had outbursts. But he has been monitoring his meds for the last three years perfectly. He has a job, he has a son. He would not hurt those kids.”

You had always looked up to your elder brother, even through the tough years.

He'd inherited both your fathers drinking problem and your mother's mental illness, each demon feeding the other until he had a breakdown at age 19.

You were only 17 yourself, but with no one else to hold him accountable, you'd been there. You'd checked him into a facility, you drove him to each of his doctor's appointments when he was clean. You'd been around for each sober anniversary, for each birthday and holiday and celebration that he'd made it one more year without falling into himself.

He'd reciprocated by being the most reliable man you knew. He helped put you through college when he was stable enough, he'd managed to work his way up in the ranks at his construction job. He had a beautiful wife (currently in another interrogation room with another agent) and the cutest little boy.

He'd promised you that your family struggles would end with the two of you. You'd promised each other to take care of each others families if anything happened to them in the future, and while you currently had no family to speak of, you sure as hell were going to make sure that your nephew never wanted for anything in his life.

Your brother wasn't a murderer, and you had proof enough.

“You know, you haven't asked me yet why I think he's innocent.” You took your seat again, and gathered your hands together on the table, leaning in closer to the agent in front of you.

You watched him think for a second, then mirror your pose, leaning in just as close, eyes locked with yours.

You'd talked about a lot of things these past three days, and you got the idea that he was a bit of a jackass. If not a jackass, then at least big-headed; he'd practically shouted his title of Doctor at you as he'd walked in, and made sure to correct you every time you'd called him agent or sir.

You kept doing it just to piss him off eventually.

“It's denial, Miss Y/L/N. You don't want to see the signs you'd ignored for that lingered, so you beg and protest and plead, hoping that eventually you'll turn out to be correct.” His voice was low, but you caught every word.

“While I am sure you know what you're talking about Agent Reid, that is not why I'm here still. I'm not being charged with a crime, and I've been here much longer than 24 hours. I'm free to go at any point, but I'm sticking around here, lawyer free, because I want to watch your face when you realise you'd been wrong this entire time.”

He shifted uncomfortably and you smiled, happy to get under his skin once again.

“Okay, Miss Y/L/N. What makes you so sure your brother is innocent?”

“Your profile.” His eyes slightly widened at that, and you basked in it, leaning back and waiting for him to take the bait as the tide turned in your conversation.

“We profiled that our unsub would be late 20s to early 30s, probably a family man who'd likely been abused as a child. The profile also suggested he may have had a psychotic break recently, likely as a result of coming off his meds. Your brother fits the profile, Y/N.”

He'd dug his own grave, and you were happy to see him getting ready to sleep in it too.

“No, he doesn't, Agent.”

A tense silence passed between you, and you knew his gaze was fixed on you. You let your eyes dart elsewhere, rolling down his body to his hands. They were totally still of course, but you could see how tense he was by the way he pushed them flat against the table, almost as if he were trying to ground himself, finding reassurance in the pressure.

“How does he not fit the profile?” His brows were knitted together, and his expression was one of annoyance now.

No matter how much you had shouted or let out your frustrations these past few days, he'd kept a placid look of sympathy plastered across his features. He hadn't listened, or even suggested he'd wanted to, assuming your brother was guilty.

Now he was annoyed, as if he had the right.

“Despite what your records supposedly tell you, my brother is not off his meds.”

“Miss Y/L/N, we know that your brother did not refill his prescription three months ago, and that he looked into some clinical trials in the metropolitan area and was rejected.”

“Congratulations for having 50% of the facts. My brother wasn't rejected from those trials, he withdrew because they changed the terms. They wanted to study my nephew as well to see if they could predict where hereditary cases of Schizophrenia would manifest.”

You leaned in again now, enjoying watching the thoughts rush through Spencer Reid's head once again.

“His health insurance had some issues after the withdrawal, so his prescription couldn't be filled until next week, but my brother always had six months of pills delivered.”

You watched the realisation come crashing down on the agent in front of you, though he was doing a good job of keeping himself out together.

It was time to end this conversation.

“To take part in the clinical trial, he needed to stop taking his regular medication for two weeks. Meaning he has two more weeks of his regular medication. I watched him take it Monday morning, right about when your second kidnapping occurred. My sister-in-law will confirm.”

He stood from his chair slowly and nodded at you, making his way to the door.

“And Agent Reid?” You said making sure to hold his attention one last time before he could leave. “If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you responsible.”

He slipped from the room without another word, and you relaxed into the chair, letting your eyes fall shut as you waited patiently.

Xxx

It was another week before your brother was totally cleared. He'd turned himself into law enforcement the same day you'd forced the BAU to reevaluate their profile, and both he and his wife had cracked up your story.

With nothing else to distract them, you'd been happily informed that they'd caught the actual perpetrator, and saved another victim.

You were back at home now, trying to relax, to get back on track.

You knew by the knock on the door that you weren't going to get back to your normal routine just yet.

“Agent Reid, I wasn't expecting you.” He was there at your door, and you had to brush off a wave of annoyance, forcing yourself not to slam the thing in his goddamn face.

“It's Doctor Reid. You know that, though.” He mumbled the words, jaw tense as he heaved out a sigh, trying to get to his point but being distracted by your prickly words.

“I came to talk. May I come inside?”

“We talked for three days straight, Doc. What else could we possibly need to discuss?” You made sure to block the door with your body, one arm resting on the doorframe as you leant across it, the other holding the door tightly next to you.

You thought he'd get the idea, tuck his tail between his legs, and swiftly leave you alone, but you were sadly mistaken.

Instead his eyes raked over your body as you put it on display, curiously exploring every inch you put in his eyeline.

“May I come in?” He repeated, eyes still trailing down your body. If it weren't for the heat building inside of you, you'd have slammed the door in his face. A moment's hesitation was all you got instead, as he locked eyes with you again, and you reluctantly moved an inch to the side.

You stayed there in the doorway even as he entered, his body brushing against yours almost intimately for the second, his hand faintly tracing over your hip as he stepped inside, watching you all the time.

Needing desperately to gain your composure back, you jumped into asking questions. “You're in now. What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologise.” He hadn't moved far into the apartment, and you realised aa soon as you turned away from locking the door, overestimating his distance. You spun right into his arms, one of his palms coming to your waist to steady you as the other steadied the two of you against the wall.

“And whatever would the wonderful Doctor Reid need to apologise for?”

Your words were venomous, but the heat in them rose from somewhere deeper than the acid in your stomach, somewhere more fiery than the burning sensation at the back of your throat.

“I'm trying to do the right thing here, Y/N.”

“After a week of doing the wrong thing, Spencer, I'm not sure you're fully capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he pouted, and you hated his proximity, both too close and too far at the same time. You wanted to run him apart, and then delicately sew him back together.

“I was doing my job.”

“You almost got my brother killed.”

“I'm sorry.” He heaved out an exasperated breath with the words, body relaxing and pushing your back fully against the wall. His eyes widened, and you could tell that he hadn't meant to move you in that way, but you just stared at him still, eyes flicking down to his lips with every intrusive thought.

This was how close you needed him.

“I don't give a shit if you're sorry.” You meant the words to be harsh a warning, but you hadn't realised your heartbeat bursting from your throat, your breathy gasps for air making it sound more erotic than angry.

He blinked once, then twice, slowly as if he was a scientist observing an experiment, not wanting to take his eyes off of it until he was certain something wouldn't happen.

“You're enjoying this.”

“I'm not.”

“Your heart rate is at 127 bpm, your pupils are dilated, your breathing is shallow. You're enjoying this. Why?”

His hands didn't let up, even as he shot out his words, brows furrowing further as you resisted the urge to push him away.

It was more comfortable keeping him close.

“I told you I am not enjoying this. You're just too close.”

“So, you're having a physical reaction to me?” He asked, almost quizzically. You had expected to hear a triumphant smirk or something in his voice, but he seemed genuinely curious.

“For God's sake, Spencer, yes. Yes, you're close and it's making me uncomfortable. You spent three days making me feel uncomfortable, and now you've come back for round two, are you happy now?”

“You're not uncomfortable,” he shot out again, almost as if he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. “You're aroused.”

“Know it all.” He laughed at that, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You weren't sure what the hell was going on with your body, because you'd spent the week despising the man in front of you, but now a simple hand on your wrist and a laugh had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“So what if I am aroused? You're touching me, you have me pinned against the wall, really this is your fault, Agent.”

“It's Doctor, but you can call me Spencer. Or you can go back to another colourful insult if you'd prefer?”

“You're pretty full of yourself, I thought you came to apologise.”

“I did, it's not exactly me that is acting like they want to be filled right now though.”

“Jackass,” you snapped, as he lowered his hand around to cup your ass, finally allowing himself a tiny hint at the smirk you'd predicted earlier.

You gasped as he took a handful of your ass and pulled you flush against him.

“I want to say sorry, I want to make it up to you. I'm being quite charitable here.”

“Charity, my dear Doctor, is where you give something and expect nothing in return. It seems like you want something in return.” You spat the words again but you let your hands press lightly against his chest, waiting for him to make the next move as you played with the buttons of his shirt.

“I'd be more than happy to do that, too.”

You weren't sure who reached for who, or which one of you made the first push, but you were suddenly joined together by your lips, each of you battling furiously for dominance.

Your hands pushed up desperately, clawing into his long, busy strands and pulling him down further into you as you worked against him.

He was still stronger than you though, so when he forced your head back an inch, you moved out of necessity.

“Is that enough, or should I keep apologising?”

“Nowhere near enough, jacka-” he cut you off by pushing the tip of his thumb into your mouth, using one of his legs to spread yours so he could nuzzle himself between them.

“Why so quiet now? We couldn't shut you up in those interrogation rooms, but now you're so polite and obedient.” You moaned around his thumb as he stroked your tongue, encouraging you to suck it.

You didn't need much instruction, desperate now to show off your superior skills to the man in front of you.

“That's it, show me how much you want it, my little whore.”

His hand slipped into your pants quietly, but you twitched as his hands feathered their way along your pelvic bone, twitching at the sensitivity of the connection.

His hands slipped into your panties and you knew immediately it was over for you. You were so wet, and he was going to be able to tell just how much you apparently wanted him.

You moaned as he roughly pushed your pants down, finger teasing your cunt through your panties as you still struggled to suck his thumb so you didn't make any louder noises.

“You're enjoying this.” It was no longer a question, but a confident statement, no curiosity but simple satisfaction at how good he was making you feel.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, rubbing some saliva across your lips to make them shine before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. Your hands barely pushed out in from of you before your chest collided with the wall, and he was close behind you.

As he coaxed your panties down your legs, you closed your eyes and tried to keep your breathing steady, desperately clinging to some high ground where you could find it.

His fingers were hot and long, and they quickly found your clit and got to work as he ground his hard cock against your bare ass.

His pants were still on, but you could feel the outline of his dick against you, hips rutting back into him with each flick of his wrist.

“Now, come on Y/N. You said it's not charity if I receive something in return, right?” He whispered into your ear as you tried to reach behind you to grab his dick.

“We're going to take this nice and slow, and you're going to enjoy all of it.”

His fingers slowed to an aching pace as he finally pushed a first digit inside of you. His hips finished moving and his free hand held you still too, so the only friction was coming from that one hand between your legs, practically edging you.

“Fuck me, just fuck me Spencer.” You moaned in frustration.

“Doctor.” He whispered in your ear, the glee in his voice igniting your hatred of him all over again.

“What?” You spat out.

“Call me Doctor Reid, and I'll give you anything you want. You want to cum, right?”

His fingers kept their slow pace, and you could feel yourself growing more impatient, even as you grit your teeth together.

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid.”

“What about please?”

“Fuck you.” You instantly regretted your words when he pulled his hands off your body completely, retreating further into your house.

“No, shit, wait.-”

You scrambled after him as he took a seat on your couch, removing his jacket and loosening his already dishevelled tie.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asked, palming himself through his pants as he watched you practically fall at his feet, needing his hands back on you.

“I want you to f-fuck me, please Doctor Reid.” He nodded slightly, pulling your remaining clothing off as he responded.

“That's a good little slut.” He led your hand over his cock and let you undo the buttons and pull him out. You needed no other instructions as he leaned back and pulled your legs into a firmer position.

You gave his cock a few strokes before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him.

“So fucking wet for me, you were so aroused, baby.”

He didn't let you control the pace, but held your hips still just above him as he began pushing into you from below, lifting his hips to fill you up with each thrust.

You couldn't bite back the screams as his balls slapped against you, Spencer trying his best to fit his entire length into you with each deep thrust. You wanted to kill the man only an hour earlier, and now you were sure you wanted to have him inside you like this forever.

“Oh fuck, just like that, just like that Spencer please!”

Your hand drifted down to your cunt and you're began to rub feverishly, even as you felt the pressure build up from your gut.

The pressure was almost unbearable and before you knew it you were squirting on his cock, fingers splashing wave after wave of your arousal over his cock and clothes.

“Already squirting for me? I thought you didn't want anything to do with me, Y/N. I guess you are just a little whore.”

You twitched, but couldn't respond, as he began thrusting sloppier than ever before, grunting in your ear as he finally joined you in your mess.

His grip on your hip slipped as he finally started cumning, and you moaned feeling him so deep as he gathered you in his arms and pulled you chest to chest.

You sat there panting together for an eternity before you even thought about detangling your limbs from one another.

“You made a mess of my fucking sofa.” You said as you finally rose up slightly, looking down at the mess beneath you.

“No, Y/N, that was you. I simply helped.”

“Jackass.”

“Whore.”

You gasped as he laughed at you again, pulling your hips back down over his so you couldn't slide off his cock again.

“Don't act so scandalised when I can feel just how much that turned you on. You're enjoying this.”

You pouted a little, but let your head fall back against his chest.

“And what if I am, Agent Reid?”

[sage-nebula]

Neat Lore Bits from 'The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog'

I just wanted to make a little list of everything I come across as I play through this little April Fool's Day game, because it's super cute and so much fun.

— Tails always carries Sparkle Gelatin as a snack whenever he travels. It's "a sparkly jelly that can melt any jaded heart."

— Sonic is world renowned, but not necessarily recognizable by the average person, even if the average person knows who he is and what he did.

— Amy is a huge fan of true crime podcasts.

— Once when Tails was at the grocery store, he slipped on some spilled juice because there wasn't a wet floor sign. Sonic caught him . . . but then also slipped on the juice because he was running too fast, and they both crashed into an elderly shopper's cart.

— Not lore per se, but both the detective and the journalist can't be the murderer or victim of the murder mystery, and got to hang out together for the hour before the game starts. Amy picked Tails to be the detective to her journalist, meaning she wanted to spend that time with him. Awww, Sunset Squad 4 Life 💖🧡

— Blaze prefers the birthday cake in Sonic's dimension to the cake in her own.

— Amy has multiple Piko Piko Hammers for different uses. She carries a lighter one when she thinks she won't need one for the day.

— Shadow is familiar with Super Monkey Ball, but can't get a very high score on it. Also, he signs high score boards as ULTIM (for Ultimate Life Form)

— Knuckles is not used to receiving compliments; they make him blush.

— Knuckles is a sore loser and breaks game cabinets when he can't get the highest score.

— Omochao is wanted for medical malpractice.

— Eggman has written a combined autobiography and recipe book.

— Tails claims to have never played in casinos and to not know how to play card games despite stating that he is banned from casinos for counting cards in Sonic Heroes. Either Sega has decided to retcon Tails' gambling habits, or Tails doesn't like to share his gambling habits with strangers.

— Amy's favorite band is Hot Honey, and Hot Honey band member Jeremy Bee is her current favorite musician.

— Shadow is not good with computers.

— Espio is fluent in 17 languages.

— Espio once speed-read a book just to spoil the ending for Knuckles.

— Sonic believes in the "salt over the shoulder" superstition.

— Sage the A.I. likes to play with robots.

— Shadow likes chocolate cake.

— Sage the A.I. and Metal Sonic have "let's go dad" t-shirts.

— Eggman has rubber ducks that look like himself and Sonic; they are the angry rubber duck and the happy rubber duck respectively.

[cinnbar-bun]

Part 4 Jotaro going to Morioh only to find you, a former Stardust Crusader on accident. I imagine they fell out of touch/didn't have time to talk. (Maybe they had feelings for eachother??)

A/n: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH I WENT NUTS!!

Reunion in Morioh

Relationship: Jotaro 4 x GN!SDC!Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~1.4k

Notes: Reader is GN! Some discussions of spoilers for P3 and P4. A brief P5 mention (ifykyk). Jotaro is currently divorced in this fic, and it features some cameos of the Duwang crew. Some mentions of trauma from P3 but overall pretty soft all things considered.

Read in my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the form on my pinned!): @child-ofdust @starr-l1ghtt

Jotaro isn’t necessarily the best at communicating. That was always the case with him, as he felt he expressed himself just fine. Surely anyone could tell what he was thinking with just one look or a quick sentence. 

Even when you two traveled together with the rest of the Stardust Crusaders, he assumed you knew him well enough. It did seem that way, at least. You practically became the Jotaro translator to the rest of the team. 

His relationship with you was different from the others, a more close and intimate one compared to the others. It was clear that he valued your presence in the crusaders even more than he did, say, Kakyoin’s or Polnareff’s. 

Jotaro, despite his rough and tough exterior, really did care for you. Even in his more immature state, he had a habit of protecting you and focusing on your comfort than he usually spared the others. 

He knew what he felt inside, that the feelings he held for you went beyond platonic or just mere friendship. It was a genuine want for a closer relationship with you. 

But Jotaro, ever the stoic seventeen year old who had never been in a relationship before, did not really know that his feelings were not easily read as desiring a romantic relationship with you. 

To him, he was dropping hints left and right and showing obvious signs that he had a crush on you and wanted to be with you. 

To you, he would just hand you the last bit of water before Polnareff attempted to chug it down. 

To him, he was standing closer to you and signaling he liked being next to you, while also keeping watch of you to make sure you weren’t too far behind. 

To you, he was gruffly telling you to hurry the hell up. 

Despite the untold feelings you both had for the other, neither of you ever went out and told the other of them. It was the one time you had failed to read Jotaro correctly, one that he spent the next few years believing to be you rejecting him and his ‘advances’. 

So when it came time to part, he believed that your rejection of him (misunderstanding his cues) was your real feelings and decided to stay away from you, figuring you’d rather not be around him after he confessed (throwing easily misinterpreted signals at you). It was another of his silent ways to make sure you were comfortable, but he didn’t realize that you would take it as a sign of him rejecting you as if your relationship meant nothing. 

Well, that was ages ago. 11 years later and he’s no longer the 17 year old delinquent who could smoke five cigarettes at once, but a 28 year old marine biologist who had gotten divorced from his first marriage. 

He didn’t want to be in Morioh, but considering Joseph’s colossal screw-up and the mysterious events taking place, he knew he’d have to stay far longer than he had anticipated. 

Morioh is fine and all, but he didn’t find any worthwhile reason to stay. That was, until Okuyasu and Josuke accidentally destroyed a part of your fence, leading Jotaro to drag them to you to apologize. 

“Come on, do we really have to?!” Josuke cries.  

The commotion outside obviously bugs you, and you swing open the door, complaining about the noise when you gasp as you come face to face with Jotaro again. Time has really been kind to him, and even with his older appearance, it’s easy to tell it’s him. 

“Jotaro?” You ask, making sure it’s really him, while Josuke and Okuyasu eye up Jotaro to explain what’s going on. 

Jotaro keeps it curt and polite, feeling some fondness for you after all these years but still not wanting to overstep your presumed boundaries. He ignores Josuke and Okuyasu’s wide eyes and comments and gives you a brief nod. 

“(Y/n). It’s been a while.” 

“11 years, to be exact…” 

Knowing that you’re here makes the trip significantly different in his mind. Your stand is quite useful, and he asks to recruit you one more time to aid him in finding Kira. He is being truthful about wanting your help, but admittedly, a selfish part of him wants to see what you’ve been up to. 

You agree, feeling somewhat similarly to Jotaro. He has changed a lot since you two last said your goodbyes at the airport, and it’s made you curious how he may have grown. 

Jotaro doesn’t really like to discuss much of what occurred in Egypt to the Duwang group. Josuke and Okuyasu mostly want to hear about how you two became friends and knew each other. Koichi recognizes that you two have some mutual respect for the other and that you seem to know a lot more about Jotaro than meets the eye. Rohan, however, is the one who knows something must have gone down for you two to be this awkward around the other. And he will be annoying and try to get sneaky about finding what happened. 

“Call it a hunch of mine, but something tells me that there’s an interesting story to be told between the two of them.” 

Joseph is the one that breaks the ice for you and Jotaro by being his usual self. 

“Oh, (Y/n)? Is that really you? Don’t tell me I’m hallucinating this!” Once you assure him that no, you are not an illusion and that it really is you, Joseph embraces you and blabs on. 

“You’ve grown well! Haha! I didn’t think I’d see you in this little old town. You know, it breaks my heart that you and Jotaro didn’t stay in touch after all that with Dio. I was sure you’d become part of the family!” 

You can practically hear glass shatter as everyone gawks at Joseph, who is humming casually and doesn’t realize what he just admitted, while Jotaro is fuming internally and attempts to drag Joseph away. 

“Ignore him. Old age has taken a toll on his brain.” 

It’s both a blessing and a curse that Joseph spoke so freely. It stopped both you and Jotaro from thinking the other hated you, but it also left a reminder that once upon a time, you two were that close. 

Still, Jotaro doesn’t want to push his luck- for pete’s sake, it’s been 11 years, why would you care for him like you did when you two were dumb teenagers?- so he tries to keep it professional. 

But unfortunately, even he can’t help the way he gets more protective over you during an ambush from stand users. Or how he gets stern with the boys if they make a poor joke or something negative about you. Or the way he finds himself feeling nostalgic. 

It takes a while but you two eventually begin to talk again beyond surface level greetings and battles. Jotaro finds out that Polnareff used to send you letters, but one day just stopped sending them all together without warning. You find out Jotaro pursued his dream of becoming a marine biologist and was currently writing a thesis on starfish. You moved to Morioh after the trauma from Egypt, living alone and being unable to connect with ‘normal’ people after being so fundamentally changed by the trip. He had a wife and daughter in America, but due to his time away from home, was divorced from her. 

Some things haven’t changed. The comfortable air between the two of you still remains, giving the two of you a break despite Kira being on the loose. Jotaro thinks to himself that he hadn’t felt this at ease in years. 

As the days pass, the feelings he had for you slowly resurface, but this time, he’s much more aware of relationships and wants to correct his mistakes from the past. He won’t be the same misunderstood boy from back then. 

So with a casual and stoic expression, he puts his hands in his pockets and turns to you. 

“How do you feel about going to grab a meal with me tonight?” he asks, hoping that him being upfront will give you two another chance to start anew.

[walpu]

walp

hear me out on this

Aventurine's bodyguard (reader), but they are used as leverage against Aven during the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest, if Aven tries to leave the Dreamscape or reveals anything of Sunday's scheme, Sunday murders Reader and makes it seem like a freak accident 😀😀

Sunday when I catch you Sunday

I liked this request the moment I saw it so I rushed to do it as soon as I got enough time to work on it 😭

you being used against Aventurine as his weak spot during the 2.1 trailblaze quest

notes - gn!reader, 2.1 spoilers, angst but nothing bad happens to you, hopeful at the end, sunday is most likely ooc since it's written before 2.2, no beta

Sunday doesn't make a direct threat. It's a very subtle hint, a small warning. Yet it's obvious enough for Aventurine to understand the meaning behind Sunday's words immediately. How can he not when it concerns you?

There's a visible anger on his face when he glares at Sunday.

"You wouldn't dare, you wing-headed bastard. Do you think the IPC is stupid enough to believe that the death of my personal bodyguard tgat accompany me everywhere is a coincidence? Do you think I'll let it slide?!"

Oh, he's seething. Such raw emotions, such obvious worry, such obvious fear. Sunday knew he would get him good but that? Truly intriguing.

But how can he not feel that way? How can he play it cool, cover his fear and shield himself with short on-line answers?

This time he can't hide how much his hands are shaking.

Sunday is quick to remind Aventurine that in his current pitiful state, 17 hours to live and all, he hardly can do anything.

He also graciously reminds Aven that nothing will happen to you as long as he does his part.

Aventurine is such a mess after that conversation. Ratio tries to calm him down a bit by rationalizing the situation. Surely Sunday is bluffing. The Family, no matter how questionable they seem, are not murderers. Plus, surely Aventurine knows his own bodyguard well enough to know that you're not easy to kill. Many has tried and yet here you are, still alive and well.

But how can Aventurine just brush it off when it's you who may be in danger?

That what he was afraid of the whole time. That he'll lose you like he has lost everyone else. That your blood will be on his hands.

He asks Ratio to look after you and to escort you to safety if something happens. The promise doesn't calm him down but Ratio is a reliable and smart person. So he chooses to trust him, no matter how hard it is. After all, Aven doesn't have much choice.

When the two of you reunite, you can immediately see that he's shaken. He tries to hide his pitiful state from you, not wanting you to know that his time is running out. He wants to warn you instead, to tell you that you may be in danger. But he knows you won't take it seriously and instead would insist on taking care of him and protecting him.

He comes up with some lies (aeons, he hates lying to you of all people) and asks you to start your own investigation. To go back to the real world and to team up with Topaz and Jade.

It takes some time to convince you but eventually you reluctantly agree. He sees how much you hate leaving him like this and it's both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Aven is an even bigger mess now than he was in the game. He tries to tell himself that you're okay, that Ratio will accompany you to the real world and Topaz will look after you once you're there.

But how can he be sure? How? His "future" self asks him this mockingly, pointing out that you're smart, that you'll immediately understand that he has deliberately sent you away to keep you from something.

No matter how msny times he tells this "future self" to shut up, he knows he's right. So he can only pray that he'll be able to deal with the Family before you get yourself in danger.

Image you showing up during the final act just to see him threatening to detonate the Stellaron. Him trying to continue the "show" despite the ache in his heart. You, knowing he's bluffing but being unable to stop this insanity.

After the events of 2.1, he seeks you out as soon as he returns to the real world. He needs to know that you're alive, that you're safe. Even if you're angry with him now, even if you may not forgive him (of course you will he's just insecure like that), he needs to know you're fine.

So imagine his relief when you (safe, unarmed, alive) embrace him and hold him tightly, so overwhelmingly happy he's back.

image his reaction to finding out that you're alive and well and sunday has presumably kicked the bucket 💀

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 18 - Something In The Static

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I’d like to dedicate this chapter to my friend who I finally got to watch the Boys and we’re talking about Soldier Boy and I have to pretend I’m not doing this and be very normal about the conversation.

Also for everyone who's gonna say “why is Ezekiel alive”, Butcher never went all tentacle tumor on us, and therefore Ezekiel is still very much alive. “Well how did Butcher survive their encounter” idk maybe he kissed Ezekiel and then just ran away.

Chapter Title from Not Strong Enough by boygenius

Word Count: 25.7k......

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The Believe Expo is underway, and everyone is dealing with a lot of emotions. Usual warnings, times two. We're looking at angst and smut and (minimal) fluff. Just a hodgepodge of everything.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 17 - Chapter 19

Coconut might be the worst smell in the world. Not real coconut, but this fake, chemical coconut that was everywhere in Homelander’s apartment. Everywhere on Homelander. Too sweet and impossible to not think about. It burns your nose, and you’re starting to wonder if it’s some kind of poison cologne. Something designed to make him even harder to stand against, because you always have to use a hand to block the smell from your nose. You’d never smelled it in the white room, but Homelander always went through an airlock before he visited you. This is just him, all the time, and you’re choking on it. 

He still hadn’t touched you. And they hadn’t locked you back down. You think that, between Noir’s sudden and heroic death very vaguely “defending our country” and the the CIA releasing a statement that you’re being held against your will by Vought—you’re surprised Mallory didn’t take the disavowing you entirely path, but here you are—Sage is too busy putting out fires to convince Homelander that you didn’t break that easy. That, after Noir II, you’d gotten back up. Revised your role, changing how you played it, and kept moving. You would not break, not like this, not where Homelander could see it. He didn’t fucking deserve to see you break, really break. He could think he’d gotten you to understand, but you would never allow him to see what you breaking really looked like.

You would break—really break, with screams and sobs and nails in your skin and not getting back up—when you got home. When you could cry into Ben’s chest, and he could keep your nails on his arm instead of your own. He’d pick you up. He’d pick you up in strong, safe arms and carry you to bed, holding you as long you asked him to. Everything would smell like pine and Ben, and you’d be able to break without the freezing cold making you glue yourself together. You’d just break. 

But not now. Not yet.

Not when there was still work to do.

A-Train had found you a few days after Noir II, after the CIA had responded to your speech. An official statement from the director, co-signed by president Robert Singer, stating that Soldier Boy was indeed a CIA operative, that Vought had no jurisdiction to declare him a public enemy, and that the Anomaly was currently being tortured by Vought to comply with their agenda. They didn’t say the whole truth, because according to them you and Ben were co-workers—nothing more—and Homelander had been obsessed with you since you were both young supes but you’d turned him down numerous times. You wish they had just committed to it. Just told the world what Homelander was, what he’d done to you, but the truth did somehow sound more absurd. And right now wasn’t about the truth, it was about doing what needed to be done. You had to trust that Mallory was smart. That she knew what she was doing. 

It would be really helpful if A-Train had a similar leniency. 

“What are they doing?” He’d skidded to a stop in front of you again, in another too-fancy bathroom at another boring event. 

You’d held up a single finger, taking a long, deep breath. You were curled up on the floor, under a hand-dryer that you kept pushing the button of to make the warm air blast onto your head. It was helpful, it made you feel a little more alive and was a lot more sustainable than constant vomiting. 

A-Train had just kept talking, pacing in front of you. “Sage is really not happy, there’s no fucking way I can risk talking to MM now. That was not smart, that shit you did on TV. You know why Sage isn’t here? The Deep went to a fucking Panera last night without telling anyone and Sage is pulling camera footage to make sure he’s telling the truth. And Noir is dead-“ 

“Can you please shut up?” You’d muttered, tapping against your calves. “I know what I did. I knew there would be consequences. I’m willing to live with them.” 

“Well, I’m not!” A-Train’s feet had stopped in front of you, and you’d reached up to hit the button again. Letting the hot air push on the top of your head, calming you as he continued. “This isn’t just about you, you’re not the only one who’s suffering-“ 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Come on-“ 

“I’m serious,” you’d looked up at him with a scowl as the wind above you stopped once more. “This is good. Ben can help them now, Annie has more fuel against Vought, and Butcher and Mallory will know how to work this.” 

“Fine, but I’m not helping you at all if you keep this shit up,” A-Train had snapped your name. “I’ve got people, I can’t risk my nephews for this-“ 

“Okay.” 

He’d blinked at you. “Okay? That’s it?” 

“Yeah. Okay.” You’d shrugged. “I can’t make you help me. If you won’t, you won’t. I can handle this myself.” 

“You’re really not going to lecture me about being a hero, or doing the right thing?” 

You’d shaken your head, looking back down at the floor. “I don’t really have legs to stand on there. I got Noir II killed, I killed Firecracker, I’ve destroyed at least two buildings and gotten a lot of other, innocent people killed by proximity. I mean, fuck, I’m in love with Soldier Boy-“ 

You hadn’t meant to say that. It had fallen out of your mouth and you’d stuttered to a stop, but it was too late. When you looked back up at A-Train, his mouth was hanging open. 

“You-“ 

“Please don’t tell anyone that,” you’d whispered. “I didn’t mean to tell you that, I’m just exhausted-“ 

“I’m not going to.” A-Train had still been frowning at you. “I mean, I don’t really care about your personal shit. Even if it’s being in love with Soldier Boy.” A-Train had frowned. “Isn’t he technically Homelander’s father?” 

“Yeah,” you’d leaned your head back against the wall. “And I’m aware of how fucked up that is.” 

A-Train had shrugged. “All of this is fucked. I don’t think you fucking Soldier Boy is any less fucked than anything else we’ve all done.” 

“We’ve never actually fucked,” you’d mumbled, because you couldn’t stop now. In no world had you foreseen the I’m very in love with Ben and it’s all impossibly confusing and complicated conversation happening in a fancy bathroom with A-Train, but you had started it and now you were apparently incapable of stopping it. “I mean, we’ve done stuff. But not fucking.” 

“Okay.” A-Train had frowned. “Why the fuck are you telling me that?” 

“Because I’m lonely.” You’d looked up at him with a sad smile. “And you’re here.” 

He’d nodded, then moved away. You’d thought he’d left, just pissed off because he didn’t want to deal with this. But he’d dropped against the wall across from you with a sigh, pulling off his visor to meet your eyes. “How long?” 

You’d frowned at him. “How long?” 

“Have you and Soldier Boy been not fucking.” 

“February. But, uh,” you’d shaken your head. “I think I might have been in love with him before that.” 

“Okay,” A-Train had nodded, and kept going. “Does Homelander-“ 

“He found out after the interview. Sage told him.” 

“And your team-“ 

“I’m not sure. They know we’re close, and maybe some of them have figured out it’s more than that, but I’m really not sure.” You’d tilted your head at him. “Why are we talking about this?” 

“I don’t exactly have a lot of friends either.” A-Train muttered. “I killed the only woman I’ve ever loved because Homelander told me to, Sage is a bitch, and the Deep is an idiot. Ashley’s fine, sometimes, but we don’t exactly talk about things that aren’t life or death.” 

“Oh,” you’d nodded. “Okay.” 

It had been silent for a second, both of you watching each other wearily. 

“Does he know?” 

You’d blinked. “Who?” 

“Soldier Boy. Does he know you love him?” 

“No,” your voice had cracked a little, a lump forming in your throat. “It’s complicated.” 

“Does he love you?” 

“No.” 

A-Train had blinked at your answer. “You said that really fast.” 

“He doesn’t,” you’d let out a long breath before continuing. “I’m okay with it. He just doesn’t and it’s fine.” 

He’d looked like he’d wanted to keep pushing. You’re grateful he didn’t, because if you kept talking about Ben you might have started crying. 

“I, uh,” A-Train had shaken his head, foot tapping on the floor. “When I was a kid I wanted to be a hero. Just, while we’re talking about fucked shit, I wanted to be a hero. A real hero. My brother said I could help people, and I really did believe him. And then I just, I got lost. It’s a shit ton harder to be a hero when it’s not just a word. When you actually have to back it up and nobody around you seems to care. Now it’s probably too fuckin late.” 

“I don’t think it’s ever too late,” you’d watched him carefully, speaking slowly. “You can always change. Humans aren’t static. We’re always changing. It’s a strange kind of exceptionalism to think you’re immune to that. To think you’re special enough to not be capable of being better.” 

A-Train had narrowed his eyes at you. “What are you talking about.”

“I dedicated my whole life before this to studying people,” you’d held his gaze, not wavering on your words. “And you realize pretty fast that concepts of good and bad are different across the world. It’s not something that’s fixed, because people aren’t fixed. We’re not born good or bad. We are who we are, who we’ll be, but we also make choices. I mean,” you’d shrugged. “You can keep doing good things, or bad things, or nothing at all. But you’re never incapable of doing something different. If you think you can’t, it’s because you think you’re too good to be better. But everyone is always capable of being better.” 

“Like Soldier Boy?” 

“Like Ben,” you’d whispered. “He��s better. And he’s good. Really good.” 

“And you really love him?” 

You’d swallowed. “Yeah. A lot.” 

A-Train had nodded. “You think he’ll be waiting for you?” 

“Yes.” You’d answered without hesitation. Ben may not love you, but he’d never leave you. If you knew one thing in all of this, it was that Ben would never leave you. “He will.” 

“Then what?” 

You’d frowned at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“When this is over. If you win,” A-Train had shrugged. “Then what?” 

“I,” you’d shaken your head. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” 

“You have to have a reason you’re still going,” A-Train had leaned forward slightly. “It can’t just be because you’re a fucking good person.” 

“I’m not-“ 

“Yeah, you are.” A-Train had rolled his eyes. “You’re better than me, than all of us. Congratulations, you did it. You won the stupid contest.”

“I didn’t-”

He’d kept going, ignoring your protest. “But you have to have something you want. Everyone has something they want. That’s how this shit gets out of control.” He’d sighed. “You get promised the thing you want and never fully get it. Then it’s never enough.” 

“I don’t have anything I want,” you’d mumbled. “Just for this to be over.” 

“After that,” A-Train had snapped. “You’ve got to think of after. Otherwise you’ll just burn out.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Is a vengeance fueled asshole. That dude might not have an after. I want my family back. So does MM. Hughie and Annie probably want a peaceful, boring fucking life. Ashley wants a year at a spa. What do you want.” 

You’d swallowed. “I don’t know.” 

“Think about it. What did you want before?”

“To do something important,” you’d said softly, rubbing circles against your arms. “Have a job where I helped people, where I was respected in my field. Then go home to someone who loved me, who I’d built a life with. A life that was mine.”

“Then do that. When this is all finally fucking done, build a life.” 

“I can’t,” you’d shaken your head, eyes blurred from tears. “I wanted to get married. I wanted a job. I wanted kids.” You choke slightly. “I don’t, I can’t be sure any of that is even possible anymore. Not after this.” 

“You can do whatever you want.” A-Train’s voice had been sharp. “Don’t let all these assholes control you, change how you live your life. You can do all that, or none of it, but you do it.” He’d sighed. “Don’t let them make you lose people. Lose happiness. They don’t deserve to have that kind of control over you.” 

“Thank you,” you’d smiled softly, and he’d shrugged. 

“Sure.” 

You’d given a dry laugh. “They really just fuck everything up, don’t they.” 

“Fucking everything,” A-Train had nodded with a small smile that had fallen fast. “I still can’t help you. Not like you asked. My family-“ 

“It’s fine,” you’d met his eyes with a sigh. “I’ll find something else.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“Yeah,” you’d shrugged. “I can move things around, find another way. You can still help.” You’d given him a tight smile. “You can be better. But you should leave the bathroom. They might start looking for us soon.” 

He’d nodded and stood, giving you one last look before leaving. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

The air whooshed, and you were alone on the floor of the bathroom again. 

We could go to Rome, Ben’s voice had hummed around you. When all this shit is over, we can always go to fucking Rome. 

I’d love to go to Rome. You’d smiled into the empty air around you. I’d love anywhere, as long as you were there. 

Because you love me. 

Because I love you. You’d leaned back again, hitting the button above you one last time. Ben, really I love you. It’s kind of stupid how much I love you. 

Are you ever actually going to fucking tell me that? 

Maybe. You’d sighed. Maybe one day in a million years I’ll grow some balls and tell you. 

What would you say? 

It doesn’t matter. 

Shut the fuck up. When you tell me you love me, which you will because you’re not a pussy, what are you going to say. 

Benjamin. 

Don’t Benjamin me, I’m fucking helping. 

You’re not real.

So you can fucking tell me. If I’m not real it won’t goddamn matter. 

The air turned off, and the bathroom had still been empty. 

You’d started to hum. A simple love song, just so you could see his face. Look at him. 

He was so fucking handsome. You'd almost started crying because he was right there, tall and broad and standing in front of you, grinning at you but not real. You couldn’t feel him, not really, because your sensory manipulation didn’t extend to emotion. So you could grab Fake Ben’s hand and feel his warm skin but not him. You couldn’t feel Ben, strong and resolved and everything. But you could smell pine, and feel his hand trace along your jaw. You could grab it and hold it there—let Fake Ben trace circles on your cheek with his thumb—and try to pretend it was real. Pretend it was enough. 

I love you. Your words had to stay in your head, because if you stopped humming to talk aloud Fake Ben would disappear and you needed to keep looking at him. I love you like the ocean loves the moon and the sun loves the stars. I love you like the birds want to sing and the caterpillar longs to be a butterfly. I love you like the grass loves the rain and the lighting loves the thunder. Like the flower loves the bee and the snail loves its shell. I love you like you’re music I get to sing and light I get to eat. I love you like the spiderweb loves the spider and the grave loves the flowers. I love you like a mirror loves to shatter and the alter loves the blood. I love you like the devil loves fire and like god loves the devil. I love you, Ben. I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll love you until all the world is scattered across the sky and we’re both trapped in the spaces that remain between. I’ll love you until my voice is gone and my heart is only still beating because you’re holding it. I’ll love you until everything is burning away and it’s just you and me. If they find a way to kill us I’ll love you as a ghost and my skeleton will keep one hand on yours. I love you because all my bones and muscles fit in with your bones and muscles, and because my soul is mine but it’s stronger when it’s yours as well. I love you, Ben. I love you. 

You’d cried. No sobs wracking your body, but small tears you couldn’t hold in. Tears you’d let Fake Ben wipe away before you’d had to let him go, and then wiped again yourself because they were real, and he hadn’t been. And you’d returned to Homelander, smiled through the party in a green velvet dress that didn’t fit and said words you didn’t mean. Let Homelander herd you wherever he wanted and kept your head together. Taken in even breaths of horrible coconut and smiled with no teeth at people with eyes like monsters. Looking at you like you were a prey that they couldn’t have because the apex predator had decided you were his. 

You didn’t throw up that night. You’d stared into the dark, cold air and talked to the phantom of Ben trapped in your head. 

And you’d sat in the fire. Not alight under your skin, but pulsing in a small, warm ember. Awake. Growing. 

By the time you’re sat in the Seven’s meeting room, with all four remaining members and Ashley, it was stronger. Beginning to smoke along your veins. 

“We’ll all be attending the Believe Expo tomorrow,” Sage’s arms are crossed as she glares around the table. “It’s important to appear as a unified front, and this is our primary base. Many non-christian supporters will be in attendance this year, as the association between Homelander and Christianity is becoming interchangeable in the public eye. Which also means we’re leaning away from actual biblical rhetoric, and into our own narrative. We can’t completely disavow the religious aspect, so we’ll have to walk a careful line between not alienating the new people and indoctrinating the old ones. Everyone will get their scripts tonight.” 

The Deep raises his hand, and Sage rolls her eyes but nods for him to speak. 

“Uh, aren’t they going to notice if a,” he frowns at Sage, looking her up and down. “Muslim is leading the Christ Show?” 

“No, because I’m an atheist, dumbass.” Sage snaps. “And I can recite the bible from front to back. All you have to do is show up, do what I tell you, and not say you’re in love with an octopus again. Understood?” 

The Deep looks at Homelander for an order to say yes or no, but Homelander’s not paying attention. He’s staring up at you, standing where he’d told you to. Silently at his side, like a statue he’d collected. When The Deep coughs, Homelander scoffs and waves a hand. 

“Just do whatever the woman fucking tells you to.” 

“Yes, sir.” The Deep nods, and then gives Sage a nervous look. 

Homelander is still staring at you. 

“Sage,” he says slowly. Not looking away. “I want to see her script.” 

“I haven’t written her one,” Sage glares at you. “Anomaly will be on stage for your speech at the end of the program, and you’ll kiss her. That’s her role.” 

Your nails dig into your wrist, both held behind your back. Breathe. You just have to breathe and get through this and not break. One kiss will not break you. One touch will not open the floodgates. You can’t scream or run because you’ll lose. You can breathe now and fall apart later. 

Homelander says your name, and it makes your skin itch. “Is going to give a speech. The people need to care about her, especially with the CIA and Starlight spewing all those fucking lies about her. About us. 

Sage shakes her head. “Homelander-“ 

He turns, shooting her a sharp glare. “I’m not fucking asking. Write her a speech.” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sage says cooly. “Not after-“ 

“I dealt with that,” Homelander’s voice raises slightly, and Sage falls silent. She doesn’t flinch, but she doesn’t keep pushing either. “I am telling you that you are going to write her a speech. You can either do it yourself, or I’ll have those fucking idiot writers do it for you.” 

Sage’s eyes narrow, but she nods. “Fine.” 

Homelander nods, looking back to you. “Sage?” 

She sighs. “What.” 

“Make it about love.” He smiles at you, and nothing has ever been harder than smiling back. 

The first thing you learn about the Believe Expo—something that until two weeks ago you’d been pretty certain wasn’t a thing anymore—is that it’s loud. Everything is so loud. Homelander flies you there through the cold mist and wind of the morning before telling you to practice your speech and shooting back up into the sky. They’re only setting up—workers dressed in black adjusting lights and testing speakers that ring screeching feedback through the air—and it’s already too much. People are moving everywhere, marking spots on the stage floor and arranging seats and trying to get cloth covers to stay on the tables. You’re lost in how loud it is, and almost get run over by a man carrying a large box that spills out cables as it collides with you. 

“Fuck!” You flinch at his shout, dropping down to help gather the wires scattered across the damp grass as he continues. “Goddamnit girl, we’re already behind schedule, I don’t have the fucking time-“ 

You look up at him to apologize, and he freezes. “I’m-“ 

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, almost pushing you away from the mess. “I’m sorry I yelled, ma’am. I promise there won’t be any delays for the event.” 

You blink at him, rubbing his neck and refusing to meet your eyes, but before you can ask any questions someone taps on your shoulder and says your name. 

“Thank fuck I found you, your trailer is ready.” 

“My trailer?“ You turn to see Ashely, holding a clipboard and tapping her foot. Looking around at the stage work with a tense expression. “Ashley, I don’t-“ 

“I’ll show you where it is. And don’t clean that up, it’s not your job.” 

“But-“ 

“You!” She points her pencil at a woman standing off the side, holding a coffee. “Clean this up, now.” 

“Ma’am, I’m uh, I’m on break-“ 

“I don’t fucking care, clean it! And you-“ Ashley’s glare turns back to you, still crouched on the ground. “Let’s go.” 

She grabs your arms and starts to pull you up, and something wraps around your throat and hands, trying to squeeze all the oxygen out of your body. Everything is sharp, too sharp, moving too fast and yet not fast enough. 

You yank your arm away the moment you’re on your feet, half because you don’t think Ashley remembers you can feel her and half because that was completely unbearable. You follow her off the stage, waiting until you’re out of the crews’ earshot to quicken your pace, walking at her side and speaking in a low voice. 

“You shouldn’t touch me, Ashley.” 

“What?” She shoots you a quick glare. “Don’t be dramatic, I was just helping you stand up-“ 

“You touched me. Your hand touched my arm. I felt you.” 

“So? It’s not like I-“

“Ashley.” You stop walking and wait for her to turn around. “I felt you.” 

“What the fuck are-“ Her angry expression falls, her face goes pale “Oh, I, I forgot, fuck-“ 

“It’s fine,” you say quickly. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. You just, uh, you shouldn’t touch me.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m- shit! I-“ 

“I’m not mad,” you frown at her. “I’m just reminding you. Don’t touch me unless you’re okay with me feeling it.” 

She nods tightly, hands pulling at her hair, and swallows before speaking. “Don’t tell Homelander I touched you. He doesn’t want us to touch you.” 

You feel the cold bloom inside you again, but manage to push it down. Give Ashley a tight nod. “I won’t.” 

“Can we go to the trailer now?” She looks down at the clipboard. “Fuck, we were supposed to be at the trailer five minutes ago-“ 

“Where is it?” 

“Just over there, but-“ 

“I can find it.” You start to walk away, in the general direction Ashley had pointed, but she calls your name and you stop. “What-“ 

“We’re not supposed to leave you on your own.” She’s tugging at her hair still, looking between you and the clipboard. “I technically should’ve been there when Homelander dropped you off-“ 

“I’m not going to run away, Ashely.” You sigh. “Please, just go do whatever you need to.” 

She looks like she might protest for a second, but looks back at the clipboard and gives a tight nod. “Okay. Go.“ 

“Great.” You start to turn again, but Ashley calls your name again. 

“What-“ 

“Um, thanks.” She mutters, gives you a tense smile. “And please, don’t try to fucking escape-“

“I won’t. I can’t.” You turn, and finally manage to get away before Ashley can see the anguish on your face. 

You could escape, Sunshine. Ben’s voice carries on the wind. Or I could come fucking get you. 

We’ve had this conversation. You can’t come get me, they’ll put you back under. 

I don’t give a shit. You should be home. With me. 

I know, but I can’t. Not yet. 

You fucking should, though. This is some insane, cum guzzling bullshit. And you are not fucking kissing Homelander. 

I’m not exactly thrilled about it either, Benjamin. 

Not for me, brat. Because he’s a fucking pussy who shouldn’t be allowed within a million miles of you. 

You have to stop your internal fight with Ben’s voice, because you reach the trailer and are immediately surrounded by people doing your hair and makeup, shoving Sage’s script into your hands for you to memorize. There will be a teleprompter, because Sage isn’t an idiot who thinks the Deep will remember anything for more than fifteen minutes—let alone a whole script from the time he’s in his trailer to four hours later when he’s on stage—but you still want to read it. To know what’s coming. 

It’s what you expected in its entirety. A lot of propaganda. A lot of lies. A lot of anecdotes that never happened and some musings about love that sound like a sociopath wrote them. I love Homelander because he completes me. I see us in every great romance in history. He is the thing that gets me up in the morning. 

You can hear the crowd outside now. People start to filter into the venue, more and more in larger and larger waves until the trailer feels as if it’s shaking. 

But you manage to keep it together. To keep reading as your finger taps on the chair and a blonde woman you’ve never seen before—and will likely never see again—pins your hair tight against your head and applies chemicals that would probably burn your scalp if you didn’t heal in that same second. 

I want to start a family with him. Lead the best life we can together. 

You put the script down, and once your hair and makeup team is gone you scramble to the trash can and empty the bile of your stomach until you can breathe. 

You just have to get through this. You just have to keep moving. 

They’d put you back in the supe costume. It’s better fitted than last time, but still just hideous. Uncomfortable and impractical and ugly. It feels wrong on your body, not just because it’s showing too much skin and the lace is scratching at your skin but because it’s not you. Supe costumes in general are dumb, because it’s not an outfit on a person, it’s a label on a product. Ben’s lucky he has a stupid handsome face that makes him attractive in everything or you’d have made fun of him ruthlessly about his own. 

You still fucking did that. You said I looked like a Christmas tree that’s been sent to war on the draft. 

And I’ve have said more if I didn’t want to climb that tree and let it fuck me. 

You called me an R rated G.I. Joe Doll. 

You are an R rate G.I. Joe Doll, Pretty Boy. I was being accurate and poetic. 

Brat. 

Cunt. 

You take a long breath, and grab the script again. Just get through this. You’ll break later, but right now you have to get through this. 

I’m excited to lead a great life with Homelander, for our love story to be remembered as one from a fairytale. Because he is my prince, my white knight who saved me from the dark. Homelander you’re my soulmate- 

Soulmate my fucking blue balls. Ben’s voice mutters in your head, and you can almost see his scowl. The pussy doesn’t even like you. 

Soulmates aren’t real, Ben. 

Still, you’re not his damn soulmate. 

Well, I’m not yours. Or anyones. Because soulmates aren’t real. 

But you love me. 

I do. That doesn’t mean we’re soulmates. You don’t even love me, Benjamin. Something hurts deep, deep inside you and against your skull. I think soulmates, if they were real, which they aren’t, are both supposed to love each other. 

Inside your chest, something pounds and beats against your lungs and ribs. Something powerful and bloody and desperate. The slight blur of the world vanishes—you hadn’t even noticed it before—and everything is clear and warm and angry. 

Why are you so fucking sure I don’t love you? 

What? 

You keep telling me I don’t love you. What makes you so damn positive? 

You don’t. 

I do. 

You blink into the empty trailer. No, you don’t. 

I fucking do. The thing inside you rages, and you’re not sure if it’s yours or not. You’re not touching anybody, and it doesn’t feel foreign or out of place inside you. But you’ve never felt something like this. It’s focused and pious and entirely made of something monstrous that you can’t name. It’s not dangerous, nothing about it feels dangerous—it reminds you of Ben, and he’d never hurt you—but it’s still the most intensely starved and insatiable feeling you’ve ever experienced. 

No, even in your head your voice is slow and confused. You don’t. 

You’re not the fucking boss of me.

I am literally the fucking boss of you. I am the government-appointed boss of you. 

I think they stripped that title from you when they realized we didn’t exactly have an appropriate boss-employee relationship, Sunshine. 

Fuck you. 

You did, that was the problem. 

You watch too much porn, Pretty Boy. I’m not a boss fucking her secretary and causing a scandal. 

I wasn’t your fucking secretary. 

Good thing, too. You’d have been terrible at it. I’d have asked you to check my calendar and you’d have destroyed the computer. 

You wouldn’t have been too mad about it. I’d have fucked your brains out on the desk and you’d have forgiven me. 

I would not have forgiven you. Computers are expensive. 

Then I’d buy you a damn new one, then fucked your brains out. And then you’d have forgiven me. Because I’d have told you I love you, and you’d have cum all over my cock, and you’d forgive me. 

You think your heart stops for a second, restarting with the jolt of that strange feeling in your chest. In your head your voice is breathless. Ben, please stop saying that. 

No. 

You don’t love me- 

I fucking do. 

No, you don’t. This feels like a strange hill for you to die on, convincing the phantom voice in your head of the man you love that he doesn’t love you back. But you press on. Stop saying that you do. It’s mean. 

Why the hell is it mean. Saying that I love you is the opposite of damn mean- 

Because I really, really, love you! And it’s mean to lie to me and try and convince me that Real Ben might love me! 

The thing roars inside you. What- 

The door to the trailer opens, and Ashley walks in without warning, eyes glued to her phone. The thing in you flares, and then it’s gone. 

“You’re on,” she looks up, giving you a once over before her eyes land on the abandoned script at your feet. “Did you read it?” 

You kind of read it. You didn’t finish it, but you’ve got the gist, so you nod. 

“Good,” Ashley looks back to her phone. “Are you ready?” 

You nod again, pulling yourself up from the floor, and are about to walk out the door when Ashley holds out an arm to block your path. You almost run into it, and you both flinch back, Ashley nearly dropping her phone. 

“You need to wear your disguise,” she says quickly, pulling her arms back. “People will swarm you.” 

The prep-team had left you a large hoodie with Homelander’s smiling face printed across it, a Vought baseball cap, and black sunglasses. You glance in the mirror after you change, and you look like an idiot. You feel like an idiot. If this all wasn’t so dangerous and precarious, it would be plain stupid. 

But, because the universe is strange and uncaring, this is incredibly important. You have to wear Homelander’s face on your body, because you can’t protest or it will blow everything. You have to wear a stupid baseball cap—which is going to ruin your stupid hair—because people can’t see your face. It’s the same reason you put on the sunglasses that pinch your nose, and make yourself follow Ashley out into the densely packed crowd. You don’t have another choice. 

There are too many people. The first thing you realize is that there are far too many people, and you’re going through them. They’re bumping your arms and legs, brushing against your skin in accidental passing, and it’s going to make you explode. Everything is too bright and loud and everything is like a live wire. Everyone is so excited, and all you’re getting is fleeting passes of their overzealous, stabbing feelings before being plunged right back into your own cold fear. Spreading faster, not fully overtaking the fire but making it grow dim. Pushing it further away. 

By the time you’re dropped off in a small tent—A-Train and the Deep playing cards at a fold-out table, Sage and Homelander nowhere to be found—your blood is rushing through your body and ramming against your throat and ears. Trying to escape your body. You almost immediately collapse into a chair, trying to take long breaths and think about happy things. 

Music. The music playing over the loudspeakers is deafening. Off-rhythm gospel music that’s like nails digging into your brain. 

City lights. There isn’t any life or joy in the light around you. The sun is behind the clouds, and the flood lights are hidden in a mist that makes the whole world just gray. 

Ben. Ben isn’t here. With you. And all you can do is miss him. 

Something claws at your heart, but you can’t spare the time or energy to feel it. It’s loud and tight, almost impossible to ignore, but you manage to just close your eyes and try to find something happy. Try to make something happy. A-Train and the Deep are fighting in the background. It’s so loud, and you’re growing cold again. You can’t see anything but the gray, can’t feel anything but a metal chair below you and the fog around you, and can’t hear anything that’s not angry or frantic. 

Fresh air. The air is fresh and smells like rain. You haven’t smelled fresh air in months, and it’s all just clean and easy. Sharp and bright in your lungs, made of the wetlands around you. Mud and pine and grass, stronger than the cold sweat of the crowd. Fresh air. 

You take one last, long, deep breath. You’re not at peace, but this isn’t about peace. It’s about the world being in focus, and being able to just keep going. 

“Hey,” The Deep says your name, and you just stare at him. “We haven’t really talked yet. I’m Deep.” 

You nod. “I know.” 

“Right, of course you do. I mean, you can call me Kevin-“ He extends his hand for you to shake, and A-Train whacks it back. “Bro-“ 

“We’re not supposed to touch her, dumbass.” A-Train’s not looking at you. He hasn’t looked at you since you sat down. “And she’s not going to call you Kevin. Fucking nobody calls you Kevin.” 

“My friends all call me Kevin,” the Deep looks back to you with a wide, white-toothed smile. “I mean, me and Homelander are real tight-“ 

“No, you’re not.” 

“He likes me more-“ 

“Homelander doesn’t give a shit about you,” A-Train rolls his eyes. “It’s your turn. Play or give up.” 

The Deep gives you one last look like he’s going to say something, but turns back around to their game. 

It’s another ten or so minutes before Ashley returns—this time with both the clipboard and her phone—and you have to move. Interviews. Photo ops. Saying all the right words in the right tone with the right body language for the microphones and cameras. 

It’s so loud. The walk—even through a barricaded area—is full of screaming people leaning over metal blockades and the bass of the music, running into your bones. Ashley is recapping Sage’s talking points—The Deep isn’t allowed to talk about marine animals, A-Train needs to talk about gospel and unity, and you shouldn’t speak at all—As the Deep shakes his body out, practicing his smile and introduction and A-Train still doesn’t look at you. 

The powerful thing returns, as you’re back in the open. It’s still violent and alert, strange but not out of place, and it feels like Ben. It’s just Ben, indescribably Ben. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was him, because you know him. You know all of him, all his anger and care and vengeful warmth. You know how he is, how his heart pounds and his will moves everything around him, how everything in him is strong like this is. 

It fades when you're pulled into another tent. Not fully dying out, but growing dull. Far away. 

You’re sat next to A-Train—who just stares ahead into the air and lets them start to mic him—with a reminder not to talk. If you’re asked questions, Sage will answer them for you. You just have to sit there, be pretty, and smile. No matter what happens, what’s being said around you, keep smiling. 

Sage doesn’t show up. There’s a seat saved for her, with her name taped to it and water bottle under it, but she never arrives and Ashley makes everyone keep going. A well dressed woman sits across from you, the cameras turn on, the show begins.

Smile. Don’t talk and smile. Ashley reminds every journalist to greet you and look at you casually but never actually speak to you. They just give you a few smiles and glances, and only two or three actually meet your eyes. Most end up going through the motions and trying to pretend you’re not there. 

You don’t blame them. You’re doing the same. For what feels like eternity you’re sat in a chair—just another prop to the set—and as your face starts to hurt from smiling you stop paying attention. You put energy into trying to find the source of the odd feeling still making a home in your chest, but it’s stubborn. You try and pull it up to the surface and it doesn’t budge, you try and poke it and it just hums. 

It’s exactly like Ben. 

After all I fucking do for you. 

His voice is back. It always comes back. It doesn’t make the thing in you rear and push like it had before, but it’s still everywhere. Humming lowly in the mic feedback and where your foot is tapping the floor. 

Go away. I’m busy. 

His laugh haunts the spaces of silence between the voices around you. I’m not fucking real, Sunshine. I can’t go away. I’m a part of you. 

You’re an annoying part of me. Piss off, Pretty Boy. I’m trying to figure something out. 

Figure what out? 

Shut up. 

Fuck me backwards for trying to help you. 

This isn’t something you can help with, Ben. 

Try me. 

Fine, you try not to sigh aloud. I can feel something. Something I’m not sure I should be feeling. 

What, like horny? Are you horny? Do you miss me and you’re horny? 

No, you fucking dumb dumb. Like an emotion that I can’t understand. 

Well I can’t fucking help with that shit. 

I know. That’s why I told you to go away. 

Whatever. You love me. 

I do. 

The thing responds to that. It roars and starts to claw up your spine, grabbing your heart with firm but gentle hands and trying to pull it around in your body. 

What the fucking shit was that? 

I don’t know. Shut up, I need to test something. Ben, I love you. 

It’s going to kill you. This strange thing inside you is going to rip you to shreds, but before you can test anything further, the interviews are at an end and Ashley is ushering everyone away, dragging you around the venue to take photos. You’re handed countless crosses and bibles to hold up for the camera to see, as if people might not have been previously aware of them. The Deep and A-Train shake hands and pose with fans, you’re put in front of lambs and goats and a very unsettling marble statue of Homelander that’s still somehow warmer than the real one. 

The thing is still there. It keeps growing and waning and spreading and pulling back. As you move through the convention it grows wrathful and deafening, and you can’t figure out what it is. It’s not you. You’re certain it’s not you. You’d been pretty sure before, but now you’re certain. It doesn’t feel wrong, it doesn’t feel out of place, but it’s not you. You’re not consuming like this, you’re not… Parasitic is the wrong word, you decide, because it’s inherently negative. Nothing about this thing is negative. It’s big and demanding and so loud, but it’s almost comfortable. Full of want and content and focused attention. Made of something rough that’s been dedicated to whatever feeds it.  

You just can’t figure out what it wants. It’s hungry, it’s full of such a familiar, Ben-like hunger, but nothing seems to satisfy it. You repeat the words, Ben. Ben, I love you, several times, and it always takes them, but it never grows fully quiet. If anything it’s like offering it salt-water. It pours it down deep, and then grows more demanding. 

If you had more time you’d find somewhere quiet to figure out what the hell is going on. But the sun is starting to fall down, and Ashley is herding you to the backstage area. Ranting about speeches and last minute adjustments and don’t fuck up and- 

It’s just a flash. You only see it for a second, moving beyond the barricade through the crowd, but you still see it. 

Black hair. Long, wavy black hair attached to a short woman. 

Lots of people have black hair. You’ve seen at least twenty women with black hair in the past three hours alone. But you still stop in your path and crane your neck up. Trying to see over the crowd, deeper into the fray. 

You see the hair again. And, this time, the side-profile of the woman it’s attached to. Hooded eyes with eyeliner and a focused determination on her face. 

“Holy shit.” 

Your whisper is only heard by the Deep, who turns to you with a frown. “I thought Sage told us not to swear-“ 

“Ashley!” Your voice is almost a shriek, loud and frantic. “I need to go to the bathroom now!” 

“Hold it,” Ashley says your name without looking up from her phone, continuing to move towards the stage. “We’re on a really fucking tight schedule.” 

“Ashley!” You move to grab her, stop her, make her listen and she flinches back with wide eyes. 

“I-“ 

“I got my period,” you say bluntly. “And, uh, I’m wearing a skirt-“ 

She sigh. “Fine, but be fast-“ 

“I will! Super fast!” You run ahead, into the porta potties dropped near all the stage equipment for the crew. They smell awful, and you probably should’ve chosen a spot that’s meant to hold more than one person, but you’re here now. Now is not the time to second guess anything. 

You wait, just long enough that you start to wonder if A-Train hadn’t heard you or didn’t understand, and wasn’t coming. 

Then the air whooshes, and he’s crammed next to you as the door slams. “What the fuck was that about-“ 

“They’re here,” you don’t wait for him to fully gain his footing in the small space before you speak, and ignore his rush of stress and annoyance when your bodies brush. There’s not enough time. “They’re all here.” 

“Wh-“ 

“Butcher,” you hiss. “MM and Frenchie and Kimiko. Probably Hughie, probably not Annie.” And Ben. Ben is here. 

“Are you sure-“ 

“Yes.” 

“Well, why the fuck are they here-“ 

“I don’t know!” 

“Would you stop fucking interrupting-” 

“No!” You’re running your hand over your face, trying to make your brain move faster. To do something productive, and stop just chanting Ben. Ben, I love you. Ben, you’re here and I can see you and touch you and I love you, Ben, I love you- “I need to think.” 

“Think?” A-Train glares at you. “We need to fucking run, those idiot are always blowing everything-“ 

“Shut up,” you snap. “This is a chance. They’re here for a reason. They’re probably planning something-“ 

“Something stupid-“ 

“Shut up!” You’re almost shouting. There’s no time for this, you need to figure out what they’re doing here and adjust, you need to find out how to keep Homelander and Sage—wherever the hell they are—away from them, you need to see Ben. You need to find Ben, now. A-Train is still glaring at you, and your fire isn’t strong enough yet—not here, where the cold is crawling through you once more—so you need a plan. 

You look A-Train up and down, he’s trying to pace in a space where you’re both pressed against the wall to not touch each other, and you’ve got it. 

“You’re leaving.” 

A-Train freezes, frowning at you. “What?” 

“You’re going to go with them. When they leave, you’re going to go with them,” you nod to yourself as you speak. “You’re done with the Seven, you’re going with them.” 

“Are you crazy?! Or stupid?!” A-Train gapes at you. “I have a tracker, they might not even take me, and my family will still be in danger-“ 

“I’ll burn out your tracker, they will take you, and…” You trail, trying to find your way around A-Train’s family. He’s right, Vought knows who they are. They won’t just let him go quietly and bloodlessly, not when he’d be turning to their enemy. But this has to work- 

“If you can’t tell me how my family will be fine, there’s not a chance in hell-“ 

“You’ll die.” 

“What?!” 

“You’re going to die,” you say the words firmly. No room for error, no room for wavering. “They’re going to ‘kill you’,” you make exaggerated air quotes. “And you’re going to ‘die’.” 

A-Train frowns at your hands. “What are those, what are you talking about-“ 

“You’re not really going to die,” you snap. No time. “We’re going to fake your death. They’ll make it look like they killed you and everybody wins.” 

“How does everybody win there?” A-Train’s rolling on the balls of his feet, still glowering at you. “They’ll just twist it, Starlighters are murderers-“ 

“Exactly,” you have an almost maniacal grin on your face. “But the Seven will just have lost its second member in as many weeks. Not a great look for the whole supe supremacy narrative if their best and brightest are dropping like flies. It’s bad for everybody, and that’s why everyone wins.” 

A-Train shakes his head. “What about my family? How do they win?” 

“If you’re dead, if we do this right and Sage doesn’t suspect a thing, then they’ll be honored for your service and left in peace. But we have to do this right.” 

“I don’t-“ 

“A-Train,” you hiss. “This is the something. This is the better, and this is what I’m asking of you. You’re going to leave with them, you’re going to help them. You don’t have to like it, but this is it.” 

“How will I be able to help,” he protests, still pushing and there’s no time. “I mean, if I’m fucking ‘dead’-” 

“You have insider knowledge of the tower. You have insider knowledge of Vought, and Homelander, and Sage. You can help them, you just have to go.” 

“What about you?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You’re not going to leave? Run away with them into the sunset?” 

You can hear the words A-Train won’t say. You can see them on his face and hear them echo in your head. Leave with Ben. Run away with Ben and be safe and let him care for you until this is just another nightmare. 

“I mean, you can’t just keep-“ 

“I’m going to stay.” You mutter, hating the words on your tongue. They taste bitter and foul, like sour coconut. “I have to stay.” 

“That’s-“ 

“Not up for debate.” You cross your arms, holding A-Train’s glare. “I have to see this through. They’re here for a reason, and once I know what, I can work it into my plan.” 

“You’re still doing a plan?” You don’t love the disbelief in A-Train’s voice. “There’s no fucking way you can keep this up-“ 

“I don’t have to keep it up.” You snap. “I just have to get through it. I’m staying, you’re going, that’s that.” 

A-Train pauses, and you can almost hear his brain trying to find a way to disagree. But you’ve done this well, and he lets out a long, heavy, angry sigh. “What do you need me to do.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a half-smile. “I’m going to find them. I’ll tell Ashley I just need to sit down, because I’m getting cramps or something, and I’ll go find them.” Find Ben. “Find out what they’re doing, why they’re here. I need you to find Ezekiel.” 

“Ezekiel?” A-Train frowns. “I haven’t seen that guy all day-“ 

“He’s here. This is his event, he’s on the program. You’re going to find him, and trick him into walking into them.” 

“Trick him? How am I-“ 

“Tell him they’re here. Tell him they’re looking for new members of the Seven and killing Butcher is a surefire way to get a foot in the door. Tell him Hughie’s here, he hates Hughie. Just get him to fight them. Preferably away from the crowd, but not until Homelander’s speech.” Your fingers are tapping against your arm, making changes to the plan as you speak. “Ezekiel can’t just go alone, he’ll mess up the plan, so you have to make him wait. After you talk to him, say you’re going to find where they are, so you can fight them together, and come find me. I’ll burn out your tracker, you’ll bring Ezekiel to fight them, make it loud, and ‘die’. My team will take care of getting you out, hopefully they’ll kill Ezekiel on the way, and I’ll know what I need to do on my end.” 

“For your plan.” 

“For my plan.” 

A-Train shakes his head. “Are you going to tell me your plan?” 

“No. All you have to do is die.” 

“Fuck.” He takes off his visors, meeting your eyes fully. “You think this will work?” 

No room for error, no room for doubt. “It has to.” 

He nods slowly. “Where am I going to find you?” 

Wherever Ben is. “You might have to look. I’m not sure yet.” 

“You’ll burn out my tracker?” 

“As soon as you find me.” 

“And my family-“ 

“Will be fine.” You give him a close-lipped, tight smile. “Promise. Just find Ezekiel.” 

“Fine.” A-Train put his visors back on. “See you on the other side.” 

He’s gone in a rush of wind, and you’re alone in the porta potty. Just you, the horrible smell of shit, and that thing in your chest. 

Ben. It is him. He’s here, and you can feel him. It’s something you’ll have to retcon later, why you can feel him, what this feeling actually is, but right now Ben is here. And you have to find him. 

You find Ashley first, and tell her you’re throwing up from period cramps in quick, blunt words. 

“Can’t you just hold it?” She begs, and you give her a flat look. 

“Ashley, do you think Sage will be angrier if I rest in the bathroom but do my speech without a hitch, or if I throw up on live TV?”

She shakes her head, running her hands through her hair. “Fuck! First A-Train’s fucking gone, now you-“ 

“He was freaking out about something,” you shrug. “Wouldn’t tell me what, but I think he’s just calming down.” You make a fake retching sound, and Ashley’s face twists. “Can I please-“ 

“Just go!” 

“Thank you!” You make yourself double over slightly, make your words strained. “I’ll be back-“ 

“I don’t fucking care, just be fast!” 

Ashley turns away, and you’re gone. Find Ben. You have to find Ben. This place is massive, and you can’t just push your way through the crowd—not again, not if you want to keep going—but nothing is more important right now than finding Ben. 

Where would you be, you fucking ass. Where would Ben be at the Believe Expo. 

He’d hate all of this. He’d hate the abstinence only sex education—the fuck do they have against a good time—he’d hate the pandering and holier-than-thou attitudes—these pussies aren’t better than me just because they read a goddamn book—and he’d despise all the morality. All the haughty faces and watered-down language and fake smiles. He’d hate all of this, there wouldn’t be a corner of it he’d enjoy, so you have no fucking clue where you’ll find him. 

You can’t just wander and hope you run into him. You don’t have the time to spare just trying to bump into him. But you need to find him. He’s here and you have to see him. Half because of your plan with A-Train, half because you fucking miss him. You miss him so much, and he’s here, and you can’t just not see him. Not touch him. He’s here and you need him and you love him- 

That thing in your chest rolls around. It’s pulling you forward, and you don’t think twice before you let it. And you know. You know where he’d be. You’d find him anywhere, and you know where he’d be. 

Taking a piss. In the VIP bathrooms, because he has no regard or respect for venue restrictions. He’d need to go to the bathroom, and would not care to use the dogshit porta potties—especially not with his sense of smell being so strong—so he’d just walk right into the VIP bathrooms. No one would stop him, because he’s Ben and he looks right everywhere. Even if he’s in disguise, he still walks and talks like there’s not a place in the world he doesn’t belong. 

There are two VIP bathroom trailers. One is near the trailers, and one is across the venue. You should check both, but he’s in the further one. You just know, he’s in the further one. He’d have been staying on the outskirts of the event, and would be in the further one. So you take a long, grounding breath, steal a black Believe Expo Staff hoodie and cap, and move. Trying to run without people noticing, because there’s no time to just walk. He’s there, you know he’s there, so you have to go. 

Of the three bathrooms in the trailer, two are locked. And one is Ben. There’s no way to explain how you know, but one is Ben. It’s the center one, and he’s in there, and you have to wait. 

You can’t wait out in the open. If a staff member sees you they’ll either make you go “back to work” or recognize you and tell Ashley or Sage that you’re here. So you look around, make sure no one’s watching, and rush into the spare, empty bathroom. Lean against the counter and wait. 

Ben. Ben is here. He’s one door down and now you have to just be patient. You’ll see him soon. 

It’s the longest four minutes of your life. You hate this stupid, amazing man, taking impossibly long pisses and making you love him and not just leaving the bathroom. He must not feel you here, not like you can feel him, because he’d be breaking the door down. 

That’s another thing to be confused about later. How this thing works. Right now the trailer is rumbling slightly, because someone just flushed a toilet, and you can just hear a door opening and closing over the noise of the crowd.

Ben. 

You open your door, and there he is. He’s turned away from you, and wearing a baseball cap that covers his hair, but it’s him. You’d be able to recognize him blind and underwater, and that’s Ben. Tall and broad and walking in rough steps with his hands fisted at his side. Away from you. 

“Ben,” you hiss his name, but he doesn’t turn around. “Benjamin.” 

His steps stutter, but he keeps moving. Getting further and further away. 

“Ben!” Your words are still said in a hushed voice, through your teeth, but you’re almost shouting. “I know you can fucking hear me, you cunt.” 

He stops, but still doesn’t turn. Hands curling tighter, knuckles becoming white. 

“Benjamin, if you don’t turn around right fucking now-“ 

You see his body heave from a sigh, hear a low and frustrated sound, and he turns around with a scowl. 

He’s so fucking handsome. His face is tired and angry, half obscured by his hat, but he’s still everything. And when he sees you, glaring at him with all the anger you can muster when he’s right there, his mouth falls open and that strange feeling—his feeling—roars. 

The shock across his features doesn’t even last a second before he’s moving. Sprinting across the grass with no regard for secrecy or not drawing attention. Sprinting to you. He’s here. 

You don’t have time to take a step back before he’s crashing into you, picking you up and slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t kiss you. You’d thought he’d kiss you, but he just raises you off the ground in the most bone-crushing hug you’ve ever experienced. And you can feel him. You can feel the warmth of his body, the care with which he’s touching you—hands roaming you like he’s not sure you’re real and is trying to check—and the strength of him. Really him. Here and touching you and smelling like pine and gunpowder and full of desperation. He’s so tired—you can feel it in your bones—and he’s trying to pull you closer and closer into him, in a way that would be painful if it wasn’t him. If he wasn’t still holding you like you were holy, like you were just a cloud that might dissipate in his hands if he didn’t stop it with firm hands and adoring touches. 

“You’re real,” his voice is soft and hoarse in your ear, and something in you breaks. He sounds exhausted. “You’re fucking real.” 

“Ben-“ 

He kisses you then. Drops one hand below your thighs and hauls you further up his body, swallowing your words. Swallowing you. It’s just you and Ben, and he’s here. He’s real and touching you like he always has and, just for now, you’re safe. You’re safe in his arms, keeping you steadily off the ground, and getting drunk on him. On his hands kneading your skin and cupping your face, on his mouth against yours. Hungry, always hungry, pushing into you brutally. Trying to take all your breath and give you his. Tongue tracing your teeth and pushing down your throat, sucking and biting your lips and groaning into your open mouth. You take it all. Your hands grab at his hair, push his cap to the floor so you can touch him, and lean as far into him as you can without being him. He’s here. He’s here and you love him and he’s everything. You’re letting him consume you, touch you as much as he wants, because you missed him. Because he’s real, and anything he can give you is enough. If he tries to take your heart, reach into your chest and rip it out, you’ll do it for him and feed it to him. If he bites your neck you hope it will, for once, leave a mark. If he gives you any part of him, you’ll dig a hole in your body and keep it there. Anything to feel him forever, anything to never stop feeling this. Feeling Ben. 

When he finally pulls back, it’s only because you can feel the pounding of his heart under your hands. Only because he’s breathing heavily, chest rising and falling in an uneven pattern, and you’re doing the same. You feel a little dizzy, but you want to keep going. You want to touch him until you pass out and he can take him home. Or to Rome, or Hawaii, or fucking Ohio or Texas or California or anywhere where he’s there and you’re together. Where you can feel like this forever, and it’s just you and Ben. Happy. Where he can always set you down this carefully against the counter, and keep his forehead pressed to yours as you both just hold each other. Where you can close your eyes and fall into him and always trust he’ll catch you. 

He mumbles your name, lips brushing yours as he speaks, and you can’t stop the small sound leaving your throat. A strangled noise of Ben. Ben, I love you. I missed you and I love you and I’m sorry. 

You’re crying. You don’t even realize it until you feel his thumb against your cheek, wiping your tears away, and that makes you cry more. 

“Ben,” you’re whispering. You don’t trust your voice to do anything else. “You’re here.” 

“I’m here.” He mutters. “You’re real.” 

You huff a soft, weak laugh. “I’m real.” 

He nods against you, and when you open your eyes he’s still there. Watching you, always watching you. Looking at you so reverently, and that thing is stronger than you’d ever felt it when he’s touching you. He’s wrapping around you, he’s everywhere around you, full of care and affection and something small and bright that’s resting at the base of his throat. His whole body relaxed and washed with relief. You love him. You love him so much. 

“Hi,” you smile at him, and it’s real. It’s sad and you’re still crying, but Ben is here and nothing can stop you from smiling at him. Just for now, just in this moment, you can smile at Ben and get to mean it. “Can you kiss me again?” 

Ben chuckles, and it’s a sound from deep in his body that moves into yours. He does as you ask, and this time he’s gentle. Not pushing for more, just kissing you until you sigh and hum against his mouth. Letting both of you just savor it, sit in the feeling of comfort and each other. 

When Ben pulls back he draws up slightly, studying your face, tracing it under one hand as the other holds you at your waist. “Are you-“ 

“I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t believe you. Ben frowns and his eyes narrow, and you know he doesn’t believe you. He trusts you, you can feel it, but you can also feel that concrete resolve around you both and you know that Ben isn’t going to just drop it. 

“Don’t-“ 

“I’m not lying,” you move your hands up from his chest, resting them on his shoulders. “I’m okay.” 

“I don’t think you’re lying,” he mutters, scanning over your body. “I know you think you’re okay. You always think you’re okay.” 

You blink at him. “What?” 

“You always say you’re okay, and you’re not.” Your eyes meet again, and there’s something painful in Ben’s. You can feel that pain in his body, but when it reaches his eyes it’s somehow worse. It makes him look sad. “You always fucking think you’re fine, and you believe it, but you’re goddamn not.” 

“I-“ 

“Just,” he sighs, squeezing your hips and running a thumb over your cheekbone. “Tell me the truth. Not what you think is the fucking truth, the factual truth. Are you okay?” 

You don’t answer. You try to answer, but words choke in your throat and suddenly you’re crying. Not soft tears like before, full sobs that shake your body and make you fall into Ben’s chest. He catches you, holds you against him until you can breathe again. He lets you wrap your arms around his torso and traces familiar patterns on your skin, resting his chin on your head and humming so fucking terribly. So off-key and out of tune you almost don’t recognize the song. 

When you do, you pull back and frown at him, blinking away your tears. “Rainbow Connection?” 

“Shut up.” 

“When did you-“ 

“Don’t fucking change the topic.“

“Ben,” you move one hand up to rest against his chest, and he holds it. Pulls it up to his mouth and kisses your palm, and your heart flutters through all its sore fatigue. “I’m okay. I’m really okay. I’m exhausted, but I’m okay.” 

“Homelander-“ 

“Hasn’t touched me,” you whisper. “Not like that.” 

Ben doesn’t stop glaring at you. “Swear it.” 

“Promise. No lies.” You smile at him again. “Would be a weird fucking thing to lie about anyway.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

You’re wasting time. You have so little time to find out what the Boys are doing here, why they’ve decided being here is worth such a massive risk, but when Ben kisses you again you don’t really care. It’s just him, big and warm and safe. 

Real. 

When he leans back, you’re not crying anymore. You think you’ve just tired yourself out, or that your body knows there will be time to cry later. Right now Ben is here, and that’s all that matters. 

“Are we going to talk about Rainbow Connection?” You smile at him because you can. As long as Ben is here, you’ll always smile at him. “Did you watch the Muppets again?” 

Something flashes under his skin. Sore and hot, embarrassment. That’s his embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“You did-“ 

He kisses you again. He won’t stop kissing you, and you’ve never been less annoyed about anything in your life. Today he’s allowed to kiss you to shut you up. Anything that keeps him here longer, anything you can take and hold in the weeks to come. 

Anything that makes you more certain he’s real. That this isn’t a cruel trick of your brain, and any second you’re going to wake up in a cold room that smells like coconut with Homelander across the mattress. 

But he is. Ben is here and real and you can feel it. A dream wouldn’t feel powerful like this, wouldn’t have all the protection of Ben running through your body, wouldn’t have this strange feeling of something pushing from Ben into you when he holds you. 

“You can gloat about it later,” he grunts against you, before standing up to his full height, looking down at you. “We need to fucking go.” 

You sigh. You’d known this was coming, and you’re honestly surprised it took this long. “We’re not going anywhere, Ben.” 

“The goddamn fucking hell we’re not-“ 

“I have to stay here.” Your voice isn’t loud, or firm. It’s soft and shaking and tired, because you’re exhausted. Because every ounce of will and strength in your body is being used for this. For telling Ben you can’t just go, that he has to leave you here and you’re both going to have to find a way to live with that. “You know I have to stay here.” 

“You don’t have to do a single fucking thing but go,” he’s not yelling. His voice is rising and his words are sharp but he’s not yelling. “You’re not safe here, we need to fucking go-“ 

“I can’t.” You reach up, holding his face between your hands and trying not to shatter when he raises his own to keep you there. “I can’t go, not until I see this through.”  

“Yes, you can! You fucking can!” His voice is loud, but Ben’s still not yelling. You’ve heard him yell, and it’s commanding. Ben’s yell demands attention, demands compliance. This is angry and loud but he’s pleading, and it’s worse. He knows you’re not leaving with him, deep down, so Ben is begging you to change your mind. It’s making you hurt, making all your bones and organs shutter and snap, and it’s horrible. All of this is horrible. “All you fucking have to do is go-“ 

“Ben-“ 

“You’re not fucking safe, I’m not going to goddamn leave you-“ 

“You’re not leaving me,” you smile at him, and your heart is starting to fold in on itself. “This isn’t leaving me.” 

“Yes, it fucking is-“ 

“I’m telling you you’re going to have to go without me. Not now,” your words become quick, slightly panicked, because if Ben leaves now you’ll collapse and not get back up. “But when it’s time. When you go, you’re going without me.” 

“I’ll pick you up and fucking carry you out,” he snaps, and you sigh. 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Then I’ll fucking cover your mouth.” 

“I’ll bite your hand.” 

“And I won’t goddamn feel it.” 

“Then I’ll take off your stupid hat and people will see you.” You shake your head, and try to be a little more numb. Try to pretend this isn’t killing you, that you can’t feel it killing him. “I want to come home Ben, I really want to. But I can’t. You know that.” 

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell I’m letting you stay here-“ 

“Ben,” you whisper. “You don’t let me do anything. I’m staying here, but you’re not leaving me.” 

“I fucking am,” he’s furious, you can feel it coursing through you, but it’s like poison. It’s raging and turning every part of Ben against himself, making your heart start to wither for him. For how he’s doing this to himself. “If I fucking go without you, I’ll be fucking failing you again. I’m not fucking failing you again-“ 

“Benjamin-“ 

“I’m not! I’m never failing you again, I’m never leaving you again, I’m never fucking losing you again-“ 

You pull his head down, and he freezes. Ben lets you hold his head against your shoulder, and when you start to run a hand through his hair he falls onto you. Just holds you like you’re going to try and escape, buries his face in your neck like he can climb in you and stay there. 

“I can’t fucking lose you again,” he mumbles your name against your skin, and your heart grows weaker. “I just fucking can’t.” 

“You didn’t lose me.” You say softly. “You didn’t fail me, or leave me, and you’ll never lose me.” Ben. Ben, I love you. “I’ll come back. I’ll always find my way back to you.” 

“You shouldn’t fucking have to,” he pulls back, and his face is so sad. You’ve never seen Ben sad, where his face is just slack and tired and clouded. He’s still angry, but his wrath is made of despair. Low and sunken and almost sick. That thing in him—in you—feels ill. “I can’t fucking stay here with you, I can’t protect you-“ 

“I’m okay,” you lean forwards, and Ben meets you. Heads pressed together, his arms still around your body and your hands still in his hair. “I’m going to be okay.” 

“You’re fucking not-“ 

“I will,” you whisper, and it’s not just Ben you’re trying to convince. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to protect me from this, Ben. I’m okay.” 

“Please,” he mutters your name, and your heart finally breaks. Pulls itself in two at how low and desperate and hopeless Ben’s voice is. “Please, just come home. Just fucking come home.” 

“I can’t,” you’re crying again, and these tears are slow. Soundlessly falling from you, the only part of yourself that’s allowed to just mourn this. You’re not going home. Ben hasn’t failed you, he could never fail you, you love him and he’d never leave you or fail you or lose you, but you’re not going home. “We both know I can’t.” 

“I don’t fucking know shit-“ 

“I’m aware,” you smile dryly. “But I still can’t come home.” 

“You can,” his protests aren’t loud anymore. He’s just grasping at straws, trying to find one thing that will make you give up and go. “We’ll just fucking walk away, go to Rome-“ 

“Not until this is over. Not until Homelander’s dead.” 

“He will be,” Ben’s hands squeeze on your hips. “The team has a way to kill him, and they can fucking do it themselves-“

Your eyes widen. “They found a way?” 

“I fucking found a way, they barely did shit-“ 

“Benjamin,” you pull back, and everything is urgent again. “How do you kill Homelander.” 

“V. But-“ 

“V?” 

“Compound fucking V. Puts him down for the count, makes him a damn coma patient.” Ben says your name. “But they can do that themselves, we can go-“ 

“How do you know?” 

“We found a file in his lab-“ 

“His lab?” 

“The fucking Homelander lab, where they used my cum to make him grow-“ 

“That’s fucking disgusting-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, you love my cum-“ 

Now is not the time to let that turn you on. Keep going, no getting sidetracked trading easy, sparring words with him or thinking about his cum. “Ben, are you sure this will work?“

“I’m fucking positive, the lab nerds were real clear that even one shot of V throws off his whole body and turns the pussy into a vegetable.” 

“Won’t you still need to blast him with the special sauce?” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “They can make their own goddamn special sauce. Pump Homelander full of V, find their own fucking way to take him out forever. Drop a nuke on him, I don’t give a fuck. We-”

“That’s why you’re here.” Your brain spins, sorting and matching every piece of this together. “Samaritan’s embrace was a V front, and you’re looking for some.” 

“We’re fucking finding some, and killing Homelander, so you can go-“ 

“You won’t.” You pull Ben face forwards, forcing his words to die in his throat, making him listen. “Ben, you’re not going to find any V here.” 

He frowns, momentarily distracted from lightly tugging at your skin and pleading for you to leave. “What the fuck are you talking about. Butcher said-“ 

“Butcher was wrong,” you shake your head. “I mean, he might have been right last week, maybe even this morning, but if there was V here it’s gone now.” 

“Why-“ 

“Sage said she was dealing with a Homelander mistake last week. She must have been talking about the lab, about how you were able to get in and poke around. And nobody’s seen her or Homelander or Ezekiel all day. Whatever V was left, they’ve gotten rid of it.” 

Ben scowls. “So we can just find more-“ 

“Sage won’t leave more.” You tap your fingers against Ben’s jaw, trying to focus and not think about how he’s stilled himself completely to let you talk yourself through this. “She won’t get rid of it, not all of it, it’s too valuable, but she’ll hide it. Any supplies that might be accessible to anyone that could be hypothetically compromised will be destroyed or relocated. She won’t tell anyone, won’t leave any records. It’ll be as good as gone.” 

Ben hums, and you see his question in the knit of his brows. Well how are we supposed to fucking get our hands on it? 

“I’m not sure,” you mutter, frowning. Scanning Ben’s face like you might find the answer in it, and not stopping when you don’t because you just want to look at him. “I’d bet on Homelander, he and Sage don’t really trust each other, not enough for him to let her just bulldoze any plans or intentions he might have with remaining V. But it’s not a safe bet, Homelander’s never a safe bet.” You feel something tight and bitter in his chest, and sigh. “I’m okay, Ben.” 

He rolls his eyes, still not moving under your hands. I didn’t fucking say shit. 

“Yeah, but you thought it.” 

What are you, a fucking mind reader? 

“With you?” You smile at him, and it’s so easy. Even when you’re talking about killing Homelander, it’s still easy to smile at Ben. “I might as well be.” 

Smartass. 

“Fuck you.” 

He grins. Not in public, Sunshine. 

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up. And we’ll just have to ask A-Train when he gets back.” You sigh. “I can’t think of anything else that might work.” 

Your fingers have stilled on Ben’s face—now just playing with the hair of his beard—and he takes it as a sign to speak. “A-Train?” 

“The fast one.” 

“Why the fuck are we waiting for him?” 

“He’s defecting,” you shrug. “He’s leaving with you today, you’re going to have to fake his death by the way-“ 

“Fucking Fast-Man is coming home, but not you?” Ben’s glaring at you, saying your name in a deep, annoyed voice. “I am not fucking trading you-“ 

“You’re not trading me, Benjamin.” You hold his glare. “I’ll come home soon, just not now. And A-Train is going to help you. He helped me.” 

“How the fuck has he helped you?” Ben grumbles. “He hasn’t gotten you out-“ 

“Nobody’s gotten me out, because I’m waiting. I have a plan-“

Ben scoffs, but that strange feeling in him pulses with warmth. “Of course you have a plan.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You always have a damn plan, Sunshine.” He glowers at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not have a fucking plan.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “And how is that a bad thing?” 

“It’s not,” Ben mutters. “But I just fucking wish you would share your plans. With me. Let me goddamn help.” 

All the annoyance in you vaporizes in just how much you love him. How much you love Ben, how no matter what he’s there. He trusts you, he knows you, and he’s there for you all the time. He’ll groan and bitch about everything but he’ll still be there. He’ll try and fight your battles for you, roll his eyes and be a grump when you don’t let him, and stay at your side until you’ve won. He’ll be there to do what you need him to and then hold you like this—with so much rough care—even when he’s pissed. He won’t leave. He’ll never leave, not really. And you love him. 

“It has to play out naturally,” you say, gently. Smiling so that his scowl starts to waver. “If I tell you what to do it might not work as well. I’ll come home soon, you just have to let me do this my way. Please.” 

Ben lets out a long, labored sigh that makes his chest rumble, makes your whole body fall into his. “Fine. Fucking fine.” 

“Thank you.” 

He just grunts, and you pull his face back yours. Kiss him long and soft. Never looking for more, just trying to touch him. Just trying to have him while you can, before A-Train finds you and tells you this has to be over. You don’t ever want this to be over, you only want to kiss Ben like you have all the time in the world. Like every moment in this bathroom isn’t being borrowed and running out fast. 

You almost tell him. Right here, in a Believe Expo bathroom with Ben cupping your jaw and looking down at you with affection as his arm cages you to his chest, you almost say it. Ben. Ben, I love you. You’re going to have to let me stay here, but please know that I love you. Please, please wait for me and don’t hate me because I love you. I’m trying to make myself okay with keeping it together and leaving you to go home alone, but I’m so close to breaking. Please just tell me to damn the consequences, damn the world, and bring me home. Or to Rome, or to the farthest corner of the world, but with you. Please pick me up and take me with you because I love you and I can’t keep this up much longer. I’m okay, I’m really okay, but I’m so close to falling apart. I love you, fuck everything else because I love you and I want to go home. 

You’re crying again. They’re not singular, lonesome and tragic tears or shaking screams and sobs of hollow and empty. They’re small, wet gasps as you try to fight the words down. Try to stop yourself from ruining everything just because you can’t do this. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want Ben to go, and he has to go, but it’s going to be the most painful thing in the world. Even if you know you’ll be home soon. 

He mutters your name, deep and firm, and now you’re crying more. You love him. “What-“ 

You kiss him. You grab his shirt and yank him down and just kiss him. You can’t tell him you love him, not like this. Not when you can’t hold him all night and wake up next to him in the morning. Not now, when you have to stay here. But you’re going to tell him, you recognize that impossible to quell instinct of Ben. Ben, I love you, pushing up your throat and you only know one way to stop it. Ben, kissing him and touching him and turning those words into just sounds. Into moans and whines that he won’t understand. So you just pull Ben into you, and hope he’ll do the rest. 

He does. He’ll always do this for you. His hands will always find a firm, natural hold on your body and his mouth will always fit perfectly against yours. He’ll always fill with hunger and adoration, and give you everything he can until you’re—at least for now—whole again. He’ll always make all that noise, all that loud, angry pain in your head that’s trying to find a why, why is this so unfair that you have to stay here and Ben can’t stay with you, why won’t the world give you one thing, just one thing that you don’t have to rage to keep, and why does time have to keep moving when this day is going that have to end without Ben at your side, and he’ll make it go away. Ben will always make all the sounds and rushing thoughts in your head slow until it’s just him. Just Ben. Ben, I love you. He’ll make the whole world only Ben, rubbing circles on your skin and pulling you impossibly closer, pressing his tongue to your lips in a silent question, and taking everything you give him. 

You want to give him everything. Only opening your mouth for him to move deeper into you—to suck and bite and taste—and leaning into him so your hands are scraping at his neck, so his groans run through your body and down into you, isn’t enough. Making high, needy sounds that Ben swallows isn’t enough, grinding half against his torso and half onto the counter isn’t enough, because it doesn’t tell him. It doesn’t show him that you’ve missed him and you want him and need him and love him. Everything you can’t say, not now, you still need him to feel. He can’t feel you like you feel him, can’t understand without words how important he is to you. He can’t feel your love, not like you can feel that thing in him rumbling somewhere sacred in his chest. Bouncing off his ribcage and hungry and wanting for carnage. Wanting you, desperate for you in a bloody and wrathful way that tells you Ben cares. He might not love you, but he’s missed you. That even if he’s furious he’ll have to go without you, it's still about you. You and Ben together, right now, having each other. 

He has to have all of you. He has to have every part of you that you don’t need to see this through, so he can protect those instead. So he can keep some sort of knowledge that walking away from him—even if it’s temporary, which it is, because nothing is permanent except you and Ben so you will always find a way back to him—is impossible. It’s going to keep you up for many nights, haunt all your dreams until he’s there to hold you like this again. You have to, you can’t see another way out of this that doesn’t end in the world destroyed and Homelander the king of whatever remains, but it’s killing you. Ben needs to understand that this is killing you, that you’ve never wanted or loved anything like you need him. And the only way to show him is to give him all of you. 

“Ben,” you gasp against his mouth, and it drops to leave sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. Letting you speak but not making it easy. Not when he’s pulling skin gently between his teeth and running his hand up your back. “Please.” 

“Please?” He hums, moving back up to look at you fully. Hands still kneading at your thigh and wrapping around your body. “What-“ 

“Fuck me.” You lean forward, trying to pull him back down. He can’t be away from you, not for a second, not now when he’s going to have to go so soon. “Please, fuck me.” 

His eyes widen, and even as the hunger roars inside him Ben frowns. “Here?” 

You nod desperately. “Please-“ 

“Sunshine,” his hold on you has become like iron, and you can feel the enormity of his want, feel his hardened cock pushing into your thigh, but he’s shaking his head. “I am not fucking you for the first time in a goddamn bathroom.” 

“Ben-“ 

“I said I wanted to take time,” Ben leaned down, holding your gaze. His eyes are darkened, and you can feel him. Everywhere you can feel Ben, in your body and around you and running between your bodies where the boundary of Ben or you doesn’t matter anymore. “And I fucking meant it. I am not fucking you when I can’t take a goddamn week off to do it, when there’s not even a fucking bed.” 

“Please, I just want-“ 

“I know what you want,” he growls your name, and you whine. “And fucking believe me, I want it as well. The only thing I want more than to fuck you stupid is to bring you the hell home. But,” he shakes his head, and presses a kiss to your brow, grunting the words against your skin. “You’re a stubborn fucking brat who doesn’t listen, so I’m not taking you home. And there’s not a fucking chance in hell I’m fucking you for the first time in a bathroom at a fucking Christ Convention.” 

You sigh, falling further into him. He’s right, which is annoying because he’s always so smug about when he’s right, but he’s right. Ben can’t fuck you, not here, not now. You can’t tell him you love him, you can’t go home with him, but you also can’t fucking him at the Christ Convention. 

Ben pulls back, watching you with silent eyes that are trying to dissect you. You love when he watches you like this, like he can see you, and you hope he never stops. You hope when you close your eyes tonight, alone in a cold room, you’ll still have the image of him watching you. 

You offer him a small smile. “How are you enjoying the Christ Convention?” 

“It’s fucking stupid,” he mutters. “Dumbest shit I’ve ever seen. Bunch of high and mighty pussies who think they know everything. Butcher said they do this every year,” he shakes his head like that’s an impossible thought. “Wouldn’t have fucking let that slide in my day.” 

You hum. “I mean, evangelical Christianity was definitely a thing in the 80s. And 70s. And 60s. Mass media just inflates connection and audience.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “Every year is still goddamn insane. The man has been dead for thousands of goddamn years, there’s nothing fucking new to say.” 

You laugh, burying your head in his shoulder. His arms hold you there, safe and comfortable against him, and it takes a lot out of you not to cry again. To just mumble against his skin, “I see you haven’t killed Butcher yet.” 

“Yet.” He grunts. “Fucking asshole’s on goddamn thin ice. Borrowed time.” 

You smile. “Well, I’m proud of you anyway.” 

His arms tense around you, and that thing glows. Somewhere in that carefully tended and protected part of Ben where it lives, it starts to feel ardent and light. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you closer, but you feel it. Glowing inside him. 

“Has anything changed,” you don’t move from speaking against him, because Ben will hear you anywhere. “Since I’ve been…” 

You can’t finish that sentence. You can’t say that word. And Ben knows, because he doesn’t make you. “No.” 

“Nothing?” 

“We haven’t exactly been fucking team building and circle jerking, Sunshine,” he drawls, and you still smile. You missed him. “We’ve got goddamn jobs to do.” 

“And you haven’t killed anyone? Even when they’re being idiot pussies?” 

He snorts. “They’ve managed not to deserve it yet.” 

“Deserve it?” 

“They’re listening to you.” 

You lean back, and frown at him. “To me?” 

“When you tell us to trust you,” he grunts. “When you go on TV.” 

Something you hadn’t fully realized was there loosens around your throat. “You’ve seen me? You’ve gotten it?” 

“Of course I’ve fucking seen you,” Ben mutters, and his glare is more indigent than anything else. “Green for me to listen. To make sure I know you’re still fucking you.” 

You smile, and it’s all teeth and a little bit of joy. He’s seen you, and he’s been paying attention, and he understands. “Good.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to do green, I’ll listen no matter fucking what.” 

“It’s a signal-“ 

“I don’t need a fucking signal to know you’re okay,” he snaps your name. “I can see it on your face. When your little fucking act drops and you look like you. I need to know when you’re not okay. When I have to come get you.” 

“Ben-“ 

“I won’t,” he holds your eyes, voice firm. “I won’t come get you until you say. I’ll go along with your stupid fucking secret plan, but I need a way to know if you need me. If it’s gone to shit and you need me.”

You sigh. He needs this. Ben is doing the impossible thing you’re asking of him and only demanding one thing in return. You couldn’t say no if you wanted to. “Blue.” You squeeze his bicep, and give him another smile. “If I need you, which I won’t,” Ben glares at you, but you keep going. “I’ll wear blue. And you can come get me.” 

You’ll never wear blue again. If Ashley or Sage or Homelander try to put you in blue, you’ll spill food or coffee all over the outfit or just fucking burn it. But—likely even when you go home—you’ll never wear blue again. You’ll never wear blue or smell coconut without throwing up, you won’t drink a milkshake for a long time, and you’ll hate the winter forever. You’ll have to stay where it’s warm, you’ll have to keep Ben with you so he can block chilling winds and hold you against him like this. In a way that makes everything hot, makes your blood rush in a way that’s just you and him together. You’ll do anything to keep Ben with you when this is over. You’ll offer him this comfort that there’s a signal to tell him you need him—even if you’ll always need him, regardless of Homelander or Vought or any plan or mission—and whatever else he asks for so he’ll wait for you and hold you when you return. 

“Blue,” he repeats, nodding slowly. “Swear it.” 

“Promise.” You search his eyes, and try not to cry when you can see just how tired he is. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t-“ 

“Benjamin.” You shake your head, and lean back into him. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.” 

“I haven’t done a fucking thing-“ 

“You’re here.” You whisper. “You’re going to let me do what I need to do, and you’re waiting. That’s all you have to do, but it still fucking sucks, so thank you.” I love you. 

Ben scoffs. “I thought I didn’t let you do anything.” 

You huff a soft, sad laugh. “But I’m going to thank you anyway.” You look back up at him and smile. Wide and bittersweet, but still real. This is still real. “Thank you.” 

He watches you for a second, and that thing in him is glowing again. Glowing and burning. Hungry. 

Then he’s on his knees. Ben’s hands move to hold your thighs, and he falls to his knees between your legs, smirking up at you. Eyes still tired and body still washed in distant pain, but the hunger overtaking all of it. The devotion is spreading over all of him, climbing into you. 

“Ben-“ 

“I am not fucking you here,” he winks up at you, and you don’t think your heart is working anymore. It’s gone into overdrive and it’s going to explode. “But I can still make you feel fucking good.” 

Your eyes widen, and you feel heat rush into your face. You feel heat rush everywhere. “Okay.” 

“Say it,” he grunts, and you know what he wants. You always know what he wants. 

“Please,” you grab his face, running your fingers back into his hair. “Please, Ben.” 

“More.” 

“I want you,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to stay stable otherwise. Not when one of Ben’s hands is drawing closer to your center, hovering right over your underwear. “Ben, I want you, please-“ 

His thumb presses right over your clit, and your words turn into a long moan. “All you fucking have to do is ask, beautiful.” He grins up at you. “Say my name and ask.” 

“Ben-“ 

“Whole thing.” 

“Benjamin, please-“ 

He stands up, crashing his mouth against yours as his hand moves under your panties, teasing you gently. Rubbing his thumb lightly while he slides his fingers between you, but never in. Groaning into your mouth when he feels how wet you’ve become, how much you want him.

“Fucking needy, Sunshine.” He mutters, pulling his hand away, taking your underwear with him and dropping it on the floor. “So fucking needy.” 

You only moan, trying to grind into him enough that he’ll just come back, and he pulls his mouth away, grinning down at you. He looks so handsome, with dark eyes and full lips that were just on you and why can’t he just come back- 

His fingers—the ones that had just been touching you—raise into his mouth, and you almost fall off the counter. Almost jump him when he makes a low, satisfied sound and watches you with a cocky smirk. How you’re wrecked and he’s not even touching you anymore. 

“Please-“ 

He pulls his fingers out his mouth and grabs your face, yanking it up to him. His hand in your hair, your taste is in his mouth, his body so strong and warm and Ben and he’s everything- 

“Fucking good,” he mutters against your lips, and you whimper. “You’re so fucking good.” He says your name, and you think you might just cum from that. The impossibly good sound of your name from Ben’s mouth, in his deep and powerful voice. 

“Ben,” your words are just breath, but you know he understands, because he grunts and his hands that’s moved under your thigh squeezes you. “Please. More, please-“ 

He’s gone again, moving you back down to the counter and returning to his knees. You almost whine again, almost make a desperate sound that was probably supposed to be come back, but then he’s everywhere. His hands hook under your knees, and he tugs you forwards. Right into his mouth. 

He’s done this once. It made you scream his name and see stars, but this is better. He’s learning, you realize, because he’s already doing everything he needs to do to bring you up to the edge. After just one time he’d somehow memorized every single thing that made you melt, and now he’s on a mission. 

He moves one hand to knead and bruise your thigh around him, while using the other to brace against your abdomen, keeping you still as he works. 

His tongue is there first. Licking you once until he brushes your clit, flicking it once, feeling your thighs tighten around him, and chuckling as he does it again. 

“You fucking like that?” He mutters, and you just moan and try to roll your hips against his face. 

He laughs and does it again, lighter this time, so feather like and teasing you until you whine. Until it’s too much and you’re aching before he flattens his tongue against you and hums, running it down, up, down, and into you. Ben pushing his tongue into you, and starts to fuck you with him mouth. 

His teeth are brushing against you when he pushes in, letting out a growl when you clench around him that makes his nose bump your clit. You make a strangled sound and he finds a rhythm. His tongue doesn’t stop moving, twisting and fucking you as he squeezes the skin of your thigh, then rises for just enough to nip at your clit and sooth it with a kiss before dropping back down. 

Ben won’t let you cum. He knows exactly when that line is and he’s taunting you with it, grunting into you as you start to shake above him, as you tug at his hair or moan his name. He goes faster, eating you like he’s been starved until you start to tremble, and then he slows down, running his tongue between your pussy and clit, never fully touching either. Starting it all over the moment your breathing becomes steady. 

“Ben,” you whisper, and he looks up at you with so much devotion and affection it almost makes you fall apart just from him. From how relaxed he looks, between your legs. How his eyes are hungry and lustful and full of light. For you. “Please.” 

He hums against you, and you shiver as the sound runs up your spine. “More?” 

“Please.” 

“You want me?” 

“I need you.” 

He smirks up at you. “You need me, Sunshine? Need me to make you fucking cum?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out as his hand moves from your thigh, tracing circles around you and over you but never pushing in. “Ben, please. I need you, please-“ 

Two broad, rough fingers push into you and your words dissolve into a moan. Ben pumps them once, and once more when you squeeze around him. “Like that? You fucking need me to do that?” 

“Ben-“ 

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, gaze dropping down to watch you clench around him when he moves again. “You’re so fucking tight, beautiful, it’s gonna fucking kill me.” 

You can’t speak anymore, not when he moves in and out again, and again, and again. Setting a brutal, demanding pace that has you unable to think outside of Ben. Rough, strong fingers inside of you that are Ben’s and making you feel so good. 

“No smart words from that pretty fucking mouth?” he hums your name, and you whine. 

“Ben-“ 

“There’s one.” He winks at you, and you melt further into him. Try to use your leg to pull him closer. “Let’s see if we can make you scream it.” 

He drops back down and bites your clit. It’s gentle and light, but Ben bites you and you have to move a hand to cover your mouth so you don’t scream his name. You’re trying to grind onto his face, his fingering still fucking you without relent or relief, and you need him to keep going. To bite you or lick you or do something to bring you over the edge. But his arm is keeping you so torturously still, you can only grip his hair and throw your head back as he goes and goes and goes and you’re full of him. He’s in you and on you, his tongue tracing taunting circles around your clit, and it’s all Ben. 

Then he kisses you. He leaves one, painfully soft kiss against your clit as his fingers still deep inside you, and you’re so close. 

“Ben-“ 

You feel him grin against you, and he crooks his fingers in you against that one spot as he pulls your clit into his mouth. He sucks on it and groans, and that’s it. Everything is Ben, flicking his tongue against you with a growl and scissoring his fingers to give friction inside you, and you have to bite your hand as you cum. As everything grows loose and good, the whole world becomes both so big and wide but it’s still just Ben. It’s still just Ben in all the warmth and pleasure, making you feel like you’re made of stardust and more important than the sun as he keeps going through your orgasm until you’re shaking. Until you’re trying to pull him back up because you need to see him. You need him to kiss you again because you love him, and this is going to be over so soon and you just need to see him. Show Ben that he’s done this, that every part of you is his and nothing else has ever mattered like this matters. 

You almost damn it. He’s pulled you apart and put you back together, still going, and now you have to tell him. Ben has to know, he has to know you love him. It’s so impossibly crucial that Ben understands you love him. You say it, you say Ben, I love you, but he’s done his job too well and all that comes out is a breathless, wanting sound. Every part of your body, of your mind and soul tries to say it as well. Ben. Ben, I love you. Ben, I love you. Please understand, please try and feel how much I love you and tell me you understand. But he's still going, even as your thighs start to crush his head, and all you get is a roar. That thing inside him roars, and moves to fully rest in you. You don’t understand it, you’re not even sure Ben understands it, but it’s sitting in you now just as much as him, and it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever felt. It hums when you repeat the words in your head, when you think Ben. Ben, I love you, and pray he’ll somehow hear it, somehow see it on your face when he’s still between your legs. He doesn’t, but that thing always makes another low, happy sound and that can be enough. Everything is light and high, and this strange thing that lives in Ben but feels like it’s yours can be enough. 

Ben, after what might have been a thousand years, stands up. He’s staring at you—still slightly shaking and flushed, words still a little far away—and the look in his eyes is reverent. His face is covered in you and his beard is wet but he’s not moving to wipe it away. He just kisses you, one last long time, and mutters your name against your lips. 

“You’re perfect,” his voice is low and wanting, and you shutter against him. Feel his hard cock twitch against you. “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

In the grand scheme of things, it’s probably a good thing A-Train finds you when he does. Because if you’d been left alone with Ben for about three more seconds the part of you that’s been begging you to just go, go home with Ben and the rest of the world can figure out how to deal with this themselves, just tell Ben you love him and go, would’ve won. 

That doesn’t mean you can’t be annoyed when the room is rushed with cold air and A-Train slams the door behind him. 

Ben’s faster than you—in all fairness he didn’t just have an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re at a disadvantage—and turns to block your body from view, roaring at A-Train. 

“What the fucking hell-“ 

“Calm down, asshole.” Peaking over Ben’s shoulder you can see that A-Train’s facing the wall, back to you both. “This isn’t something I want to see. I’m just doing my job.” 

“Get fuck out-“ 

You reach around Ben’s head and cover his mouth with a hand, staying behind him as you lean over his body to address A-Train. “Are we ready?” 

A-Train nods. “Ezekiel’s waiting for me, I told him I’d find where your team is then come get him.” 

“Okay,” you sigh, trying to focus on running through your mental checklist when you can still feel Ben, when your legs have wrapped themselves around his torso. “I’ll burn out your tracker, and we’ll get going.”

Ben licks your hand, and it surprises you enough to pull back. 

“Benjamin, what the hell-“ 

“Does anyone want to fucking tell me what’s going on?” He snaps, glaring at you over his shoulder. “Or am I supposed to just goddamn stay in the dark?” 

“I did tell you,” you kick his thigh slightly. “A-Train’s defecting, you’re going to kill him-“ 

“Don’t actually kill me,” A-Train cuts in, still facing away from you. “I’m not doing this if this dick is going to actually kill me.” 

“He’s knows that-“ 

Ben shrugs. “I don’t know shit.” 

You pinch him, shooting him a flat look. You’re being unhelpful. Shut up and get me decent. 

He rolls his eyes, and ducks down to pick your discarded underwear off the floor. You keep speaking as he helps you into them, allowing yourself to sit slightly in the feeling of him touching you, hands running up your legs and arms holding you still. 

“They won’t kill you, A-Train. Ben, promise you won’t kill him.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Benjamin.” 

“Fine, I won’t fucking kill him.” 

You glare at him. “Promise.” 

“I swear I won’t kill him.” He glares at you, drawing back up to his full height. “Happy?” 

You smile at him. “Very.” And it’s not even a lie. “A-Train, you can look.” 

Ben steps to the side—you have to shove him slightly, but he does—and A-Train turns around slowly. 

“My tracker?” 

You nod, pushing off the counter and crossing the bathroom. “This might take a second.” 

Ben follows you, standing behind you silently as you raise your hand over A-Train’s extended arm and close your eyes. This will work, this has to work. Ben’s right here, and he’s warm, and right now you’re not afraid, so this will work. 

It takes a few minutes of slow breathing and focus, but you drag just enough up fire. You can do this. 

You glance at A-Train once. “This might really hurt.” 

“Just do it-“ 

The flame forms in the palm of your hand and your eyes narrow. Concentrating it into something like a needle and pushing it into A-Train’s arm. He flinches, face twisting, but doesn’t pull away as you work. Smoke fills the room, all three of you watching the beam of fire twist and scorch A-Train’s skin, burning it with the tracker. Ben’s shoulder nudges yours and you pause, looking up at him. 

“What?” 

“It’s gone,” he grunts. “I heard it, it’s fried.” 

A-Train frowns. “You sure?”

“Fucking positive.” 

“Then,” A-Train looks back at you. “We’re good?” 

You glance at Ben, who gives you a tight nod. “I guess.” 

A-Train looks between you and Ben again, but rests his arm back at his side. “Is he going to tell your team-“ 

“I’ve got it fucking handled,” Ben snaps. “Pretend to kill you, bring you back. Find another way to get V.” 

“V?” 

Your eyes widen. You’d almost forgotten. “Fuck, wait. A-Train where did you find Ezekiel?” 

“He was backstage,” he shrugs. “Most of that time was spent convincing him, he’s annoying as hell-” He frowns at you, cutting himself off. “Why?” 

“We need some V,” you sigh. “But if he was backstage that means they finished cleaning up. There won’t be any left, not here.” 

“Why do you need V?” A-Train shakes his head. “That shit is horrible for you, it almost fucking killed me-“ 

“It knocks Homelander out. We need it to kill him.” You look at Ben, and find him watching you carefully. “You’re going to need to tell Butcher what I told you. You’re not going to find V any way you might have before.” 

Ben scowls. “Well then how the fuck-“ 

“Homelander,” you swallow down the lump and bile in your throat. “He’s the only bet we have. He had to have kept some-“ 

“He keeps some in his apartment,” A-Train interjects, and you turn to see him frowning at you, hands on his hips. “I saw it, even took some for Hughie. It’s in a box.” 

“I’ve never seen it-“ 

“He might have moved it when you arrived,” A-Train shrugs. “But he has some.” 

You nod, chewing on your tongue, and feel Ben’s arms wrap around you. Pulling you back into his chest.

“You don’t have to fucking get it.” He mutters. “We’ll find another way-“ 

You sigh, and tilt your head back to look up at him. “There’s not always another way, Ben. We have to get through this, not around it.” 

He glares at you. Come home. Just fucking come home. 

I can’t. You stand on your toes, leaning further into him, and give him a gentle smile. You have to go, and I can’t come with you. 

His body tenses around you, and he makes a deep, pained sound from his chest. I fucking hate this. This is fucking stupid and I fucking hate it. 

I know. You squeeze his arm around you and force yourself not to cry. You can’t cry now, because you won’t stop and this will never work. I know you do. But I’ll see you again. Soon. 

Fucking swear it. Swear you’ll come home. 

I promise. 

He nods, and turns you around. Kisses you again, and you know this is the last one for a while. He’s not pushing into you or trying to get more, he’s just trying to memorize you and you’re doing the same to him. You already knew all of Ben—and he knows all of you—but you need to have it leave a mark that you can carry when he goes. You need to still remember in a week, still feel how his muscles move around you like he’s still holding you, have his taste remain on your tongue when he’s not there pushing it into you, smell pine and gunpowder and Ben over the coconut. You’ll certainly have how he sounds—you’ll never lose how Ben sounds because his phantom will stay with you—but you want all of it. You need all of it if you’re going to keep going. 

A-Train coughs, and Ben pulls away with one last, gentle movement. 

“We have to get moving,” when you turn, A-Train isn’t looking at you, but frowning at Ben. “Homelander will be back real soon, for his speech.” 

Homelander’s speech. Your speech. You have to go do your speech. “Okay.” 

You have to force every step as you pull away from Ben’s body. He doesn’t let you go, not fully, allowing you to turn before dropping his head down to yours. 

“Come home.” It’s final. He’s still asking, even when he knows the answer, one final time.

“Soon,” you whisper. “You’re not losing me, Ben. You just have to wait for me.” 

“I’ll always fucking wait for you.” He grunts, and your heart isn’t going to recover from this. Not for a long time. “I’ll wait a million goddamn years, as long as you always fucking come home.” 

“Always.” You mumble, and he nods. “Thank you.” 

“You burn, I burn,” his breath fans against your face, and you can feel that thing in him start to riot. Claw up your lungs—Ben’s lungs—and throat. Furious and loud. 

So you just make a small, sad sound because you’re out of tears and sobs and sighs and smiles. “You burn, I burn.” You look up, and meet his eyes. “Can you do me a favor, Ben?” 

He just grunts, and you know he understands. You’re not asking, you’re cashing one of your last favors in. But it’s not for you. 

“Don’t be a dick to Ryan, please.” 

Ben blinks at you. “What?” 

“Ryan Butcher.” You watch him carefully. “Don’t be an ass to him. He’s just a kid.” 

“I haven’t been a fucking ass-“ 

“Yes, you have.” You trace a hand along his beard, resting it at the base of his neck. “I know you, Ben. You might not be being an ass on purpose, but you’re blaming him for this. He’s just a kid, it’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.” 

“You’re only here-“ 

“Because of Homelander,” you shake your head against his. “Not because you lost me, or failed me. Not because of Ryan or even Butcher. Because of Homelander. So please, just be kind to Ryan. For me.” 

He stands up, and holds you against him for one last moment. “Fine.” He pauses and kisses the top of your head, speaking the last words against you in a way that rolls through your body. “For you.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” you whisper into his chest, your words right over his heart. Right over where you can still feel that thing tearing Ben apart. You hope he’ll carry them until you’re home and can tell that thing to rest. 

Ben nods. “Soon.” 

A-Train’s been waiting, and you’re thankful for how he doesn’t say anything. How he lets Ben and you peel yourselves apart, lets Ben pick up his cap, gives you one last curt nod, and doesn’t comment on how you love Ben, or make you say any more promises. You only have room for two promises now, because they’re the most important ones you’ll ever make. Kill Homelander. Go home. You only have in it you to nod back, and try not to fall to the floor and scream when Ben gives you one last look and a kiss on the crease of your brow. When he walks out the door—like you’d told him to—and you have to watch him go. When A-Train leaves as well, and you trust both of them to do what you need them to, but it still shatters you. You’d had him. He was real and warm and here and you’d had him. There wasn’t a world where you kept him—not today—but this is still the most painful thing you’ve ever done. 

He’s lingering. You’re finding your way back to the stage and Ben’s likely still across the venue, but he’s still in you. That impossible to understand thing is still in you where it had been in Ben, and it’s not fading. It’s setting itself into you, and making you feel Ben even when you pull off your disguise and try to fix your makeup and smooth your hair in a backstage mirror. It’s making it hard to acknowledge that doing that—staying there with him for so long and letting him touch you like you’d needed—wasn’t smart, because this is all you’ll have for a while. At least until you revise your plan, until you figure out a way to get your team the V they need. As much as it hurts, you’re praying that this thing stays with you until you’re back in Ben’s arms. It might be the only way you get through this. 

Ashley finds you minutes later, her hair a mess and a wild, panicked look in her eyes. “Where the fuck did you go?!” 

“I was in the bathroom-“ 

“The bathroom?!” She shakes her head frantically. “For almost a fucking hour?!” 

You shrug, looking around nervously. No Homelander. No Sage. “I can’t control my period-“ 

“You know what?” Ashley raises a hand sharply. “I don’t fucking care. You’re on now, move.” 

Your mouth falls open, and the cold starts to creep back in. “Now? But I’m not until-“ 

“A-Train and Ezekiel are fucking missing, and Sage still hasn’t shown up after being a controlling bitch about this all week, so you’re on now.” You’re frozen in place, and Ashley looks up at you with glare. “Now! Fucking go!”

She almost moves to push you, but flinches back at the last second. Your feet start to carry you forwards, moving mechanically through the steps Ashley had drilled into you this morning. A man mics you, and you can barely feel his anxiety over the cold. It’s getting cold again, and the only thing keeping your legs steady beneath you, keeping you upright, is the way that Ben is still there. How you can feel that odd thing from him ingrained in you even when he’s gone, how it’s him. Everything about it is Ben, and it’s making a home inside of you and keeping your mind from clouding with cold. Fogged up cold. 

The man finishes his job, adjusting the mic a little further from your mouth. A woman checks your hair and makeup, and another points out all your marks and the teleprompter as Deep wraps up with large gestures and over-exaggerated laughs. The first woman smooths down your costume once and gives a thumbs up, the second shoves you forward with a clipboard, and suddenly you’re there. On the stage, walking to a red x and being blinded by stage lights that turn the crowd into murmuring shadows.

Words fall out of your mouth like vomit. You sound robotic. You feel robotic. You’re speaking and your voice isn’t yours, you’re smiling and it’s wrong on your face, and your hands are locked behind your back so your nails can tap and dig into your skin. 

“From when I was young, I’ve loved Homelander. Even when we were children, sharing secret moments in the fields behind my parent’s house, I loved him. I loved him enough to follow him to the city before he knew how I felt, before I knew he loved me. I loved him when he made his first save, and he told me how happy it made him.” Swallow the bile, read the words on the prompter. The boring, mechanical, words about love that aren’t yours. Aren’t about your love. “I loved him when he came to me with roses and told me he loved me, asked me to be his one and only. I loved him when he let me stay on the sidelines, when he was forced into PR relationships to keep me safe. I love him now, as America’s greatest hero and my savior.” Don’t break. “I love Homelander because he completes me. I see us in every great romance in history. He is the thing that gets me up in the morning. He makes me happy, and I want to start a family with him. Lead the best life we can together. I’m excited to lead a great life with Homelander, for our love story-“ 

Your words are cut off by a rush of air and shaking of the stage as Homelander lands at your side. Grinning and waving, placing a hand on your lower back as his voice echoes over the venue. 

“Oh, just pretend you can’t see me!” The crowd grows louder with applause, and he laughs. “I’m here to listen to Anomaly, same as all of you! I just have the best seat!” He pulls you off your mark, closer to the front of the stage. “She’s doing so well, isn’t she?” 

He grins at you as the crowd’s noise begins to drown out your own thoughts, and you make yourself smile back. The nerves are real, but you force the comfort onto your face. Make yourself stay on your feet. There’s no other option but staying on your feet and smiling at Homelander like his hand on your own body doesn’t fill you with dread and agony and cold. Pretend you don’t know what’s coming, that you’re going to finish and Homelander will kiss you and you’ll have to not scream or push him away. You’re sweating and the air is humid from the lingering mist of the morning, but you’re so cold. 

“Alright, let’s settle down!” Homelander dismisses the crowd with a hand, and the last few whoops and claps die off. “Keep going, honey, everyone’s listening.” 

You swallow. No way out. “I’m excited to lead a great life with Homelander, for our love story to be remembered as one from a fairytale. Because he is my prince, my white knight who saved me from the dark. Homelander, you're my soulmate, and I love you. I am deeply in love with you, and there will never be another-“ 

Something bangs in the distance, and the part of Ben that’s still in you begins to pound. Drums. Echoes of drums in your chest that fall into time with a spark of lights and another bang. Gunshots. Those are gunshots and the overhead lights are sparking.

Homelander’s hand tenses on your back. “Keep calm, folks! I’m sure it’s just a truck! I’ll go myself and make sure they get that faulty engine fixed. Please, let my lovely girlfriend finish the speech she’s been working so hard on.” He leans down to hiss in your ear, face turned from the crowd. “Keep going until I get back. Don’t stop fucking talking.” 

He’s gone, and another gunshot fires. Ben. Ben might be in danger, Homelander’s going and Ben is strong but they don’t have the V, and Sage hasn’t been seen all day. The gas- 

Ashley’s gesturing at you off to the side. Keep going. 

You have to keep going. There’s nothing you can do but try and cling to that thing in you—rumbling and bloody—that tells you Ben is still awake. Try and raise your voice over the gunshots that mean he’s still fighting. 

“There will never be another man for me. And that’s why-“ The prompter glitches and sparks out, and a flash of light clears the sky in the distance. Then there’s another gunshot, and a whoosh of air, and you have to keep going. You can still feel Ben, so you have to keep going. There are no words left for you to say, you didn’t memorize the speech and can’t remember where it went after the that’s why line. You have to find your own word. You have to just keep going. 

“That’s why I want to share what it’s like to love him.” You take a heavy breath, and hold onto that piece of Ben in you like it’s a lifeline. “Why he’s everything to me.” 

The venue lights flash again, and the phones start to spark out and fry with the cameras. You’re okay with that. This isn’t for the world to remember or see, this is for you to keep talking and find a way to keep going. 

“He’s good,” you smile into the flickering darkness. “He’s just so good. It’s hard, but he’s still good. His smile is the best one you’ll ever see, and his laugh is the only thing you’ll ever need to hear. If you could see him happy like I do, you’d never want to see anything else. And I, I get to do so many things I’ve always wanted to do with him. I get to talk to him and feel heard and to cook with him and share things I enjoy, and he touches me like I’m the only one he’s ever wanted to touch. Ever needed to touch. Ever needed. I get to feel half as wanted as I want him, and I want him. I want all of him.” You can’t stop. Your heart is breaking and gluing itself together every other second, but you can’t stop. “I want the parts you get to see and the parts that get to be mine. I want to laugh at him and with him and see him smile. See a smile that gets to be mine, and keep watching him try. Try to keep me when everything is horrible, and I want to stay with him, I want to stay with him-“ Your words are becoming choked, and you’re pleading to no one. Begging into a silent crowd of people who don’t understand and a night that doesn’t care. Keep going. “I, I want to watch him be better, never stop trying to be better, just be better and be good. Be good to me, he’s so good to me, even, even when it’s hard and I have to miss him and I-“

The whole word explodes. The drums are still rattling around your head as the night is illuminated from a cloud of fire and ash exploding across the night. You almost run to it, run to him, but people are grabbing you and pulling you off stage. You can’t fight, you're frozen, kept from shattering only by the hum of Ben still carved into you. Like an imprint, like a scar you wouldn’t want to heal if you could because it’s telling you he’s awake.

They lock you away. Someone shoves you into the trailer and you hear the door click, but you don’t bother to even try the handle. You couldn’t move if you wanted, couldn’t run if you tried. You’re cracking. Not breaking—not while that thing of Ben’s still shifts inside you and tells you he’s okay—but cracking. Growing weaker, the fire going dormant once more, because you’d let it get away from you. That speech won’t see the morning, nobody had gotten the part that was just you on footage, but people will talk. Sage will hear, Homelander will hear, and the former will know that you weren’t talking from nothing. She’ll see that hand you’d accidentally shown, that last piece she’d been looking for. The only thing that will save you is the latter believing you were speaking of him. That it’s Homelander you need and want and think is good. You’ve never laughed with Homelander, never seen him be better—only worse—and never, ever missed him, but he’ll still think you were talking about him. 

You miss Ben. You’re sobbing on the floor, cracks appearing in your mask because it’s all too much, and you just miss Ben. You’ll get through this. You can feel that echo of Ben still in your chest even as the noise outside dies down, and you know you’ll get through this, but you’ll miss Ben. More than before, which you didn’t think was possible. You’ll miss him more because he’s waiting, and you know home is closer in time but far in effort. Anything goes wrong and home goes away forever. There’s a way to kill Homelander, a way to get Ben the shot to kill Homelander, but this has to go right. You have to do this clever, however you need to, and with no hesitation, because then you can go home and Ben will be waiting. You’ll kill Homelander, and hold each other until this doesn’t feel like pain anymore. Only another shadow in the corner, another skeleton you bury and grow flowers from. 

Ben will be waiting. You’ll pull yourself up and tape every single piece of your mind together to drag yourself home to Ben, and he’ll pick you up. Ben will wait, and he’ll make this better. 

You’ll love him when you touch him again, and forever after that. You’ll love him when he makes this better and you remind him he’ll never fail you. When you get to stay and you never have to break again. Until then you’ll love him here as well. You’ll keep this piece of Ben in you, and worship in the hopes he feels it. 

You hope he feels your love. Even if he doesn’t love you, you still hope Ben gets to feel your love like you feel his strange thing inside of you. Gets to know it’s yours, for him, and feel how easy and natural it is to love him. How he didn’t fail you, could never fail you, because you love him like this. 

You love him until the night is silent. Until it’s just the dark and spreading warmth. Until your tears are dry and you can just feel you and him. You love Ben like there’s nothing else to love in the world, because there’s not. 

No love is worth this holy and infinite one that you have for Ben. No love is worth rage and desolation like this one is. No one is worth what Ben is. 

And he’ll wait for you. You’ll go back to him. You’ll find a way home. 

You’ll always find your way back to Ben.

——————

Ben couldn’t let himself think about it. Not now, not when he was still fucking clean up the mess he and the team had made. Not when the Pussy Mobile had come to a screeching, rattling halt right before Butcher could park it, and Ben was honestly surprised they’d made it the whole damn drive back. The hunk of shit probably should’ve broken down the moment Butcher had floored it and they’d torn away as Homelander dealt with their diversion. Ezekiel’s body strung up across tents—Ben having pulled him apart with hands and hatred—Annie playing haunted house with all the lights, and a bomb of the French Prick’s going off when Homelander destroyed the guns MM had rigged to keep firing. 

He couldn’t think about how’d almost fucking lost it. How they’d been driving away and Ben had been forced to shove the drums down, try to control them and keep the bomb in his chest from destroying the van and the team when the Thing was roaring at him. When the night had exploded and it had shaken the van, making Ben have to just stare and floor and try not to get lost in how much this fucking hurt. He’d done it, he’d done exactly as She’d asked. A-Train was “dead”—Homelander even the last person to see him before Frenchie’s bomb supposedly blew him to bits, which had been Hughie’s idea and didn’t end up being total fucking shit—and they knew they had to wait for V. They knew that had to wait for Her to get them some or find it somewhere else. Every selfish part of Ben wanted Her to get it, because that meant she’d have to give it them. She’d have to come home to give them the V, and this wouldn’t fucking hurt anymore. 

He’d find a way to get Her to stay this time, and this would never be painful again. He’d kill Homelander and she’d get to smile at him somewhere in Rome forever. He’d hear Her cry about normal, stupid fucking things and she’d tease him and tell him what to do, and he’d just kiss Her until this didn’t fucking hurt anymore. Because he’d done it, he’d done the job, and he’d never hated himself more. 

They were circled up in the dining hall. It was past midnight, but this was a lot more fucking important. They had A-Train, and maybe the fucker could help them. Get Her closer to coming home. Sleep didn’t matter, not when Ben had to fucking bring Her home. 

Ben’s at the head of the table. He can’t sit, can’t rest, he can’t stop fucking moving, not for a second. Not when it will be nothing but fucking pain and images of Her in his head. Fresh, like open wounds that won’t just fucking heal. 

So Ben stood, rigid at the head of the table, his fists curling and uncurling. Butcher at his side—the man’s glare almost as violent as Ben’s—as A-Train’s bouncing knee shook the table. Hughie and Annie had gone to bed with small nods—nobody had stopped them—but MM was frowning at A-Train from his seat across the table, and Kimiko and the French Prick were watching the tight silence with nervous expressions. 

“Are any of you going to talk, or just keep fucking staring at me?” 

Ben’s jaw clenched at the fucking sneer in A-Train’s voice. The fucking annoyance, as if Ben hadn’t just fucking given everything, given the whole fucking world, to save his fast, worthless, pussy ass. She’d told him to, and he had, but it should be Her at the table. In Ben’s arms. Not this fucking piece of shit She’d been so goddamn certain could help. 

He could only say half of that. A-Train needed to understand what had been lost to get him here. He had no fucking right to know more about Her. 

Ben leaned across the table, not bother to hide the fucking fury in his voice. “You’re the one who needs to start fucking talking.” 

“About what?” A-Train snapped. “I’m here, you know why I’m here, what else am I supposed to do?” 

“Make this fucking worth it!” Ben roared Her name. “Said you’d help. Fucking help!” 

“How? How am I supposed to help?” 

Butcher cut in right before Ben could rip A-Train’s head off. “Our mutual friend seemed to be bloody certain you’d have somethin for us. MM here seems to think we can trust you. And I’d fuckin wager you’ve got some real nasty shit on Homelander and Vought.” 

“Yeah, but-“ 

“Man, just listen,” MM muttered. “Those two motherfuckers get off on vengeance, and you’re not doing yourself any favors by poking at them.” 

Butcher scowled at MM, and Ben just keeps fucking pushing. She’d said A-Train could help, and she was never fucking wrong, so the pussy better start fucking helping until Ben started finding more creative ways to figure out what she’d meant. 

Don’t kill A-Train, Ben. Her voice hummed in his head. Or at least do it outside. People eat here. 

“What was she planning,” Ben grunted, trying to speak firm and steady over the pain. “She told me she was planning something. What is it.” 

“Don’t know,” A-Train at least had the brains to look a little fucking guilty. “When we talked she’d never tell me. Said she couldn’t risk it or something.” 

“Well, what did she say?” MM runs his hand over his face. “There has to be something we could use.” 

“Nothing,” A-Train’s answer is way too damn fast, and he’s giving Ben a strange fucking look. “I mean, she was trying to convince me to help, and I agreed, and now I’m here. I can’t fucking help more than that-“ 

“That ain’t fuckin true mate,” Butcher sneers. “You gotta have somethin for us. We didn’t fake your damn death just for you to come here and leech.” 

“I’ve got some stuff on Vought, but you can’t really think they were telling me everything? I mean, Sage didn’t trust me as far as she could thrown me, and she’s not that strong-“ 

“There has to be fucking something!” Ben hissed Her name, leaning down to hold A-Train’s gaze. “She had to have said fucking something, anything, that could get her-“ 

“She wouldn’t share her plan with me!” A-Train was still fucking looking at Ben like that. Like he’d fucking dropped from the sky and was speaking goddamn gibberish. “Like I said, she didn’t tell me anything! I asked, and she said no. She didn’t even fucking tell you!” A-Train gestured at Ben with an exasperated movement. “Why do you think she’d tell me!” 

“A-Train,” MM sighed. “What do you know? That shit about Vought, about Homelander and Sage, about anything.” 

“I mean I fucking know all their old V stashes. I know about security. I know Sage, kind of. How she thinks. I know Ashley, and she’s real close to snapping or losing it or something.” 

“That’s good,” MM glanced up at Butcher. “We can get Mallory here tomorrow. Get all his shit down.” 

“Mate, we can’t be fuckin sure he’s even gonna tell us the truth-“ 

“I will.” A-Train frowned at Butcher. “I’m not here for Vought, fuck those guys. I’m here because I’m trying to be better. Because she,” A-Train shot Ben another strange look as he said Her name for clarification. “She said I could help. I’m not going to lie, there’s too much on the fucking line to lie.” 

“Well,” Butcher snapped. “We might need a little bloody more than Vought security protocols and a fuckin Sage profile. That’s all shit we can get our fuckin selves-“

“I can get you their passwords.” A-Train said, words abrupt and tight. “Hughie’s into all that computer stuff, right? I can write down everything I remember about Vought, about all their passwords, and go over what Sage has told me. I can tell you weaknesses, about Homelander and milk, and the Deep and fish-“ 

“How the fuck will that help-“ 

A-Train cut Ben off with Her name, and everything fucking hurt again. “She thought I could help. This is all I can do, man. She knew that, and she thought it was worth it.” 

“Stop fucking talking about her like that.” Ben hissed. “You don’t know her. You don’t know what she thinks, not about this or any other damn thing.” 

“She told me I could help you. So I’m here.” A-Train didn’t flinch away from Ben’s glare. “Don’t blame me for her idea.” 

Ben was going to kill him. He was going to fucking rip his spine out of his back and break both his knees. The pussy didn’t have any fucking right to pretend to know Her, what she wanted. Ben trusted Her with his goddamn life, and he fucking trusted she knew what she was doing because there was no other option. No world where she never came back to him. She had to fucking come back, come home, but there wasn’t a single fucking way passwords and milk was going to help fucking help them. Help Her. 

Butcher placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and he flinched. “The fuck-“ 

“In and out, Gov.” Butcher muttered. “It ain’t gonna help shit to kill A-Train, even if he deserves it.” 

“Shut the fuck up, you pussy-“ 

“Trust me, I want to kill him just as much as you do. But he’s got somethin for us that ain’t totally fuckin useless.” Butcher nodded to MM. “We’ll get Mallory here at the crack of fuckin dawn. We got some work to do.” 

MM nodded, leaning down the table to the French Prick and Kimiko. “Can you two show A-Train a room? Doesn’t fucking matter which one, just get him in a bed.” 

A-Train gave Ben one last weird fucking look before he was led out of the room, leaving Ben with Butcher, MM, and the hum of a fan somewhere. 

Butcher sighed, dropping his hand from Ben’s shoulder back into his pockets. “MM, you better be bloody right about him-“ 

“I am,” MM muttered. “He’s here. He’s not going to fucking leave now, not with his family out there. And we can use his info, get the Kid on a laptop and into their servers. Get an idea of what Sage is doing. But we still need V-“ 

Butcher said Her name, and it ached in Ben’s ears. “Said she’d get us some. Right, Gov?” 

Ben grunted with a nod, and Butcher frowned. 

“She good?” 

Ben shot Butcher a glare. “The fuck is it to you.” 

Butcher shrugged. “She’s doin a lot of shit. Want to make sure she ain’t gonna burn out on us.” 

“She fucking won’t.” Ben snapped. She couldn’t. She’d promised she’d come home. “She’ll be fine.” 

She’ll be fine. Ben had left Her but she was going to be fine. 

You didn’t leave me, Ben. 

Butcher was speaking before Ben could respond to Her voice. “You didn’t fuckin pick her up and carry her back?”

“Fucking obviously.” 

Butcher narrowed his eyes. “After all your fuckin peacocking-“ 

“She told me to trust her,” Ben muttered. “And she’d have fucking kicked my ass if I tried to take her.” Ben shot Butcher a cold look. “I’m not in the business of making my woman do shit she doesn’t goddamn want to.” 

He’d said the words before he could think about them. My woman. She was his. He was supposed to hold her and protect her and care for her and help her and- 

Everything was fucking painful. 

Butcher grunted, nodding. “She’ll get through this, Mate. She’s a clever fuckin lady, she knows what she’s doing.” 

Ben didn’t respond. He already fucking knew that, he knew everything about her. She was fucking perfect and a goddamn threat to Ben’s sanity. 

He didn’t even notice Butcher was gone until MM coughed, and Ben realized it was just them left in the dining hall. 

“What.” 

“You were gone with her for a while,” MM said, watching Ben with a blank, unreadable face. “The fuck were you doing that whole time.” 

“None of your fucking business.” 

“It is if she’s-“ 

“It’s fucking not.” Ben glared at MM with all the fucking pain in his body. “It’s ours. Nobody else's.”

MM hummed, holding Ben’s glower. “Ours.”

“You’ve got a fucking problem with that? You hate me so fucking much you don’t trust me with her? When I’m the only fucking one who’s been fighting for her, doing whatever it fucking takes while you pussies-“ 

“I don’t trust you with her, motherfucker.” MM sneered. “She’s a good woman, and she’s too good for you. She doesn’t need you to fight for her-“ 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben couldn’t fucking deal with this. Not when everything hurt and he could still see Her when he closed his eyes. “You can hate me for the rest of goddamn time, and tell me I’m evil or say I get off on vengeance, or whatever else makes you sleep at night, but never say shit about what you think she deserves, or needs.” 

“What, you think you speak for her?” MM scoffed. “You think she needs you?” 

Something stabbed deep into the Thing, and Ben had to speak through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t fucking need anyone. She wants me.” His head hurt. Something was pulling at his throat and clouding his eyes and a halo of pain was wrapping around his head. Stinging his tongue when he said Her name. “Doesn’t need you telling her what she wants. Or if I’m fucking good for her. She’s capable of making her own fucking choices.” 

Look at you, defending my honor. My right to choose. Keep this up and you’ll be giving lectures at Feminist panels. 

The pain was becoming blinding. 

“You’re a fucking murderer, Soldier Boy.” MM stood from the table, leering at Ben. “Nothing’s going to change that, change the shit you’ve done.” 

Ben’s jaw was going to break. “I know what I was.” He grunted, a lot of his anger leaking out and being replaced by just this inescapable agony. “You don’t need to fucking tell me. But I’d fucking do it again,” Ben gave MM a cold look. “I’d kill a thousand fucking people and be trapped in Russia for a million goddamn years if it brought her home.” 

“And what about those people's families?” MM hissed. “Their kids, like me?” 

“I’d fucking repent.” Ben sighed. He was so fucking tired. “I’d do it and add another hundred years to my sentence for every single body.” Anything. Anything to bring Her home. 

“What about me,” MM was still frowning, but there was something tragic in his voice. Something Ben couldn’t call weak, because he felt it too, felt it in his pain. “What about what you fucking did to me.” 

Ben said the only thing he could think of. The only thing that he could fucking mean and understand at the same time. “Whatever I fucking need to for you just fucking let her be happy.” 

“With you?”

“With me.” Ben felt something hard in his throat. “Or wherever else she wants. Just goddamn happy.” 

MM sighed, and Ben wished he would just fucking leave. Let Ben deal with this fucking pain alone. “She’ll fucking want it with you.”

Ben blinked at MM, something close to shock sparking through his chest. “What.” 

“She’ll be happy with you. When she gets back. I can’t fucking explain it, I defiantly don’t damn understand it, but she’s real happy with you.” MM shook his head. “She sees something in you I can’t understand, don’t even know where she’s finding it, but she’s smarter than most of us. Smarter than me and Butcher, defiantly fucking smart than you. I can’t explain why, shit’s fucking baffling why, but she’ll be happy with you. Just,” MM gave Ben one last look. It wasn’t cold, wasn’t hateful. Just tired. “Try to earn it.” 

It was like MM had fucking shot him. Shot Ben in the fucking chest and left him to bleed out. He stood in the dining hall, alone and in pain long after MM left, and only managed to move when the fan stuttered off and he couldn’t stand the silence. 

He hadn’t earned Her. Ben could never fucking earn her. He’d held her and lost her, fucking again. He’d spent the whole fucking Christ Convenetion feeling the way the Thing was alight, burning and raging inside of him, trying to pull him around and falling into a beat that was so familiar but Ben still didn’t recognize, or know how to decipher. It had been trying to tell him something, it was always trying to tell him something, but it had been fucking feral. Roaring and howling in a language Ben didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. He’d come closer to geting, when he’d seen her. Touched Her. 

Real. 

Back in his arms and fucking real. Making the Thing start to break bones in his body and turn Ben into just a fucking soldier that could bring Her home. Make her smile while she was against him forever, make those feelings of sheer fucking pleasure and ease run between them when he touched her, tasted her, and just had her. 

He’d fucking had Her. She’d been real, with Ben, and he’d lost her. 

You didn’t lose me, Benjamin. I’ll come home. 

He didn’t fucking care. It was all goddamn semantics, because Ben had failed, again, to be worthy of her. He’d listened to her and done as he’d been told, and still managed to fail Her. She wasn’t home. Ben couldn’t breathe because she wasn’t home. He’d failed to bring Her home, failed to convince her she’d done enough. That everything was worse because she wasn’t at Ben’s side, that everything hurt because he’d fucking failed. She didn’t know what she meant to him. If She knew what she meant to Ben she’d have come home. If he could break the Thing’s stupid fucking code and tell her that vital thing, she’d have understood and come home. 

The Thing pulsed, and Ben knew he was wrong. Collapsing on the couch, he knew he was wrong and she wouldn’t have left. He could’ve offered Her the sun and stars and every fucking song in the world and she’d have still told him she had to see this through.

Why couldn’t he have chosen to feel like this about a woman who would just go? Leave? Just fuck the world and come home for Ben. 

Because that wouldn’t have been Her. The Thing ran into Ben’s head, but it wasn’t speaking. It was pushing against the painful haze, and Ben was finding the words on his own. She’d never give up on the world. She’s too good to give up on the world. And it always has to be Her. Nothing is capable of making you feel this pain like She is.

That might be the worst fucking part of this. Was that, somewhere in this pain of Ben having lost Her. He’d left her and lost her and she still doesn’t understand that Ben can’t breathe without Her there, there was something good. She’d trusted him, to do what she needed him to do. She’d cried against him and known he’d pick her up and make it better. She’d touched him and still meant it, still wanted him even after he’d failed Her. 

She still wanted him. She still wanted Ben. She’d smiled at him and laughed with him and known him like nobody ever had. Like nobody ever would, not like she did. Not like she’d pulled Ben into her and tried to tell him everything he’d needed to hear. Found every way to feed the Thing with soft words and pretty looks, and all at once, grow this pain. She was perfect, and she still wanted Ben, and he’d never fucking earn her. 

That’s what breaks the pain. Snaps it open in two, and Ben with it. She wanted him. She was perfect and she wanted him and Ben hadn’t even told Her how much he missed Her. How he wasn’t sleeping and eating was an act of labor without Her there to throw crumpled napkins at his face and hang around his body while he did the dishes. How she was gone and nothing was good. 

He hadn’t told Her. And she still wanted him. And Ben breaks. 

It starts in his chest. Shaking something there and pushing that lump further up into his mouth. The pain tightens around his throat and brow, his eyes feel fucking weird, and the first sound echoes through the dark, empty apartment. Choked. Tired. All fucking pain and hurt. 

The damn breaks, and Ben’s too goddamn exhausted to fight it. He roars into the darkness, even though he knows nobody can hear. Maybe she will. Across the city and bay, she’ll hear how much Ben fucking misses Her. How nothing is as important as Her. Home. Safe. With Ben and happy. 

When he roars again, it’s strangled and he tastes salt. His eyes hurt, and it’s so fucking hard breathe. There are no drums, no violence in him. Just a fucking ache for Her, and he can’t do anything about it but try and pull it out of his brain. Run his hand over his face and through his hair and pull it back to find it wet.

He’s crying. He’s fucking crying. 

Ben hadn’t fucking cried since he was a child. It had been a hundred fucking years since Ben had cried like a pussy. Weak, pathetic, and useless. 

This didn’t feel useless. For reasons Ben couldn’t fucking understand, the bellows of pain escaping his body and the endless fucking pain finding its way out of his body didn’t feel useless. It felt good. It felt like a tribute, like he was leaving an offering for Her in this loneliness. This was agony and the worst fucking thing in the world and Ben had to fucking break to prove it. She couldn’t break, she wouldn’t allow herself to, so Ben would do it for Her. He’d shatter on the floor of their apartment and cling to any thought of Her as it made this pain grow. It was a lot fucking better than forgetting. 

Nothing would hurt more than forgetting Her. Forgetting her laugh and smile and the way she felt. Forgetting her beautiful face and smart fucking mouth, forgetting the way she spoke and looked at Ben. Like She somehow did think he was worthy. 

So Ben just cried. He knew she’d come home but he still just fucking sobbed on the couch. Alone. Missing Her, and wanting her, and waiting for her. 

He’d fucking wait for Her. He’d cry for Her and be haunted by her until She was home. 

He’d always wait. She’d always come home, so Ben would always fucking wait. 

The Thing would keep him company, twisting and screaming in time with Ben’s tears and choked noises of pain. Remind him of every part of Her. Every part he’d lost. Every part that would come back. 

Ben cried until the sun cracked the sky. 

He’d wait for Her until it burned out the universe.

End Note:  End of chapter check in! How we feeling, squad? We getting through this?

Also, if you haven't yet, check out the first one-shot from the reader event! I'm moving through the rest, and I think I'll upload them between chapters to keep you guys fed. No matter what, thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you soon!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox @criminalyetminimal

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 17

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,700ish

Summary: Logan's guilt consumes him. The remaining X-Men try to gather.

Warnings: torture, violence

Notes: One day there will be fluff. Also, I hope the scene at the end eases some fears about Jean!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“Logan, you’re going to break the steering wheel,” Rogue said as she watched Logan’s grip on it only tighten. He simply remained glaring at the road. “Cyclops is not going to be happy—“

“Don’t care,” he replied gruffly.

“We’ll get her back, Logan.”

“I should have fought harder. I should have went to her immediately.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Logan seemed to not even hear Rogue. “If I had just been down there already, with her, I could have—“

“This is not going to help her.”

“Did you know that man?”

“Stryker. His name is Stryker.”

“I can’t remember.” Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“Where are we headed anyway?” Pyro wondered, acting like this situation was no big deal.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston,” Logan explained. “We’ll head that way.”

“My parents live in Boston,” Bobby offered.

“Good.”

“We’ll get her back, Logan,” Rogue tried to comfort.

“We better.”

~~~

There was still a collar around your neck when you woke. You tried to move to grab at it, but you were cuffed down by the wrists and ankles. Turning your head as much as you could to the side, you noticed that Scott was in a similar situation. Your stomach dropped. If Stryker had Scott, that meant he had Charles too. You couldn’t let anymore of your family be hurt by Stryker. He had already taken too much from you.

“Ah! She’s awake,” Stryker stated as he entered the room. Your blood ran cold at his voice. “It’s been far too long, Y/N.”

“Not long enough,” you grumbled.

“I know that we didn’t end on the best note—“

“You shot James in the head! He lost all his memories!”

“He seemed to still find his way back to you. I guess that’s true love for you.” Stryker walked over to Scott, examining him.

“What do you want with him?”

“I need another mindless slave. Soon you’ll be one too. Though, you’re going to be more than a mindless slave. You’ll help create the next generation of mutants—of weapons.”

A group of people in lab coats entered the room, each going to a different location like it was rehearsed. Your cuffs suddenly became impossibly tighter, including the collar around your neck. An electric current began to flow through the collar, causing you to scream out in pain. Scott screamed out as well, the same thing happening to him.

Stryker’s laugh echoed as he left the room.

~~~

When they arrived at Bobby’s parents house, Logan decided he needed some form of alcohol. Something to try to wash what he was feeling down. The guilt. The regret. The terror. He had tried and failed to get in contact with Jean or Ororo, which was a whole other problem. Logan opened the fridge and sniffed around for the closest thing he could find to alcohol. Quickly grabbing it, he began chugging it. Suddenly, he stumbled back as a memory hit him.

He was in a warehouse. Stryker was there. You had been tossed over to Logan and he barely caught you. You whispered is name. His real name.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, his face up against yours as he tried to force himself to believe that you were real. “I’m right here… I’m going to get you out of here. They aren’t going to hurt you again.”

Logan shook his head, exiting the memory. He had failed you. He had told you that Stryker would never hurt you again. Didn’t matter that he didn’t remember that promise until just now. He had failed you, once again. With a groan, Logan leaned his head against the fridge, letting himself dwell in his emotions. 

~~~

You don’t know how long you were tortured for. In the midst of it, both you and Scott had been flipped onto your stomaches and drilled into at the base of your necks. They had somehow found something that wouldn’t get immediately kicked out of your system due to your healing ability and inserted it. You were turned around and the table was lifted to put you in an upright position. Stryker waltzed in with a smile. 

“Almost there, Y/N,” he told you. “I do wish that it didn’t have to be this way. You were once a good soldier.”

“Logan will find you,” you told him with a snarl. “And he will kill you.”

“Not unless you kill him first.”

Before you could retort, Stryker shoved your head down and injected some liquid into whatever device they put at the base of your neck. Your mind quickly went blank, eyes dilated.

“Hello, Weapon XII,” Stryker greeted. “Ready for your first assignment?”

~~~

While Logan was listening to Bobby trying to explain being a mutant to his family, Logan’s comms device rang. He quickly went out back onto the porch and answered it.

“Jean?” He answered.

“Logan!” She responded. “What is going on? No one is responding!”

“The mansion was raided. A guy named Stryker. No one’s left, Jean. Soldiers came.”

“What about the children?” Ororo asked.

“Some of them escaped. I’m not sure about the rest… They took Y/N.”

“We haven’t been able to reach the Professor or Scott either,” Jean said.

“Where are you, Logan?” Ororo wondered. 

“Boston,” he answered, “with Bobby Drake’s family.”

“Okay. We’re on our way.”

“And Storm? Make it fast.” He hung up and headed for the house. He paused, hearing rustling in the bushes. “We have to go now.”

“Why?” Rogue asked.

“Now!”

“Logan, what’s wrong?”

Logan’s claws extended as he walked out onto the front porch. Rogue, Pyro, and Bobby were right behind him. Police officers quickly made their presence known from all sides.

“Drop the knives,” one ordered, coming up from the side with a gun up, “and put your kinds in the air.”

“What’s going on here?” Logan asked.

“Ronny,” Bobby muttered.

“I said drop the knives,” the officer repeated.

Glass shattered from inside the house, causing Rogue to squeal and everyone to face the door.

“This is just a misunderstanding,” Logan tried to reason.

“Put the knives down!”

“I can’t… Look.” 

Logan lifted his hands up, but before he could show the officers, one of them shot him in the head. Logan dropped, presumably dead. Rogue shrieked.

“All right, the rest of you, on the ground now!” The officer ordered. Bobby and Rogue obeyed, with Pyro staying standing. “Look, kid, I said on the ground.”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid,” the female officer stated.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” Pyro said. He opened the lighter in his hand. “I’m the worst one.” 

Using the flame, he shot fire towards the officers in all directions. He didn’t stop, enjoying the feeling of the power. He continued to do damage, shooting large lengths of fire out. Rogue could see that the power was getting to him. She ripped off one of the gloves Bobby had given to her and grabbed Pyro’s ankle. Pyro gasped as Rogue channeled his power and extinguished the flames. Rogue didn’t let go until the flames were gone and Pyro was weakened. 

The bullet that Logan had been shot with fell out of his head just before he woke. The wind began whirling all around as the jet lowered close to the house. Logan stood, making sure the kids got to the jet safely. Ororo and Jean were in the co-pilot seats while the mutant they had picked up was seating nearby.

“Who the hell is this?” Asked Logan as he sat and buckled up.

“Kurt Wagner,” the blue mutant responded. “But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler—“

“Yeah, save it. Storm?”

“We’re outta here,” she told him.

“Whoa.” 

Logan gripped onto the chair tighter as the jet lifted back up into the air. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine you were there, holding his hand. When the jet steadied, Logan unbuckled and walked closer to the front.

“How far are we?” Logan wondered.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now,” Jean said.

“I’ve got two signals approaching,” Ororo said. “Coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft,” a voice came over the radio, “you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have seconds to comply.”

“Wow. Somebody’s angry.”

“I wonder why,” Logan muttered, looking at Pyro.

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base,” the voice continued. The two planes came up on either side of the cockpit windows. “Lower your altitude now. Repeat, lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

“They’re falling back,” Ororo stated when the jets disappeared. Rapid beeping came from the controls. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan said.

“They’re gonna fire. Hang on!”

Logan stumbled to sit back down as Ororo turned the plane. He quickly buckled up right before Jean turned the jet around completely.

“Please don’t do that again,” Pyro requested.

“I agree,” Logan said, feeling more uneasy. They didn’t have time for any of this. He needed to get to you. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

Ororo summoned her powers, bring in large storm clouds, lightning and tornadoes. Jean tried her best to maneuver the jet to avoid the other planes. It didn’t take long to lose one of them. When Jean saw that the other pilot ejected, she slowed down, signaling Ororo to pull the clouds away.

“Everybody okay back there?” Asked Jean.

“No,” Logan replied. 

The controls began frantically beeping as two missiles headed for the jet. Jean channeled much of her strength to stop one of the missiles, but wasn’t strong enough to fully stop the other. The missile hit the back of the jet, tearing it open. The jet began falling from the sky. Rogue screamed as she got ripped out of the jet, her seatbelt having never buckled.

“Rogue!” Bobby shouted.

“No!” Logan screamed. He couldn’t lose another person he cared about. Not like this.

Suddenly, Kurt disappeared only to quickly reappear at the back of the jet with Rogue in his arms. The force caused them to tumble to the front as the jet plummeted. Logan grabbed onto your dog tags that hung from his neck, silently apologizing to you in case this was the end. 

The sound of metal scraping had everyone’s heads turned to the back of the jet. The jet seemed to be fixing itself. The jet began to slow before suddenly stopping.

“Jean?” Ororo called.

“It’s not me!” She replied.

They all looked out the window to see Magneto with his hand up, controlling the jet, and Mystique beside him.

~~~

Using the supplies in the jet, the crew set up camp. Eventually, Jean, Ororo, Logan, Magneto, and Mystique ended up away from the others, surrounding a fire.

“His name is Colonel William Stryker,” Magneto explained, “and he invaded your mansion for one purpose: he wanted Cerebro. Or enough of it to build one of his own.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Jean said. “Stryker would need the Professor to operate it.”

“Which I think is the only reason why our friend’s still alive.”

“Oh, my God,” Ororo exclaimed.

“Now, what are you all so afraid of?” Logan asked.

“While Cerebro is working, Charles’ mind is connected to every living person on the planet,” explained Magneto. “If he were forced to concentrate  hard enough on a particular group, let’s say, mutants for example, he could kill us all.”

“Wait a minute,” Ororo said. “How would Stryker even know where to find Cerebro in the first place?”

“Because I told him. I helped Charles build it, remember? Mr. Stryker has powerful methods of persuasion. Even against a mutant as strong as Charles.”

“So who’s this Stryker anyway?” Jean wondered.

“He’s a military scientist. He spent his whole life trying to solve the mutant problem. If you want a more intimate perspective, why don’t you ask Wolverine?” Logan looked around, confused. “You don’t remember, do you? William Stryker, the only other man I know who can manipulate adamantium. The metal on your bones? It carries his signature.”

“But the Professor—“

“The Professor trusted you were smart enough to discover this on your own,” Magneto interrupted Logan. “Or with Y/N’s help. He gives you more credit than I do.”

“Why do you need us?” Ororo wondered.

“Mystique has discovered plans of a base that Stryker’s been operating out of for decades. We know that’s where he’s building the second Cerebro, but we don’t know where this base is. And I believe one of you might.”

“The Professor already tried,” Logan said.

“Once again, you think it’s all about you.” 

Magento looked up, allowing everyone to realize that Kurt had been in the trees listening in. Kurt sheepishly came down at sat by the fire.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” he told Jean.

“Just try and relax,” Jean said. She lifted her hands to his head and entered his mind. Gasping, she released her hold. “Stryker’s at Alkali Lake.”

“That’s where the Professor sent me,” Logan stated. “There’s nothing left.”

“There’s nothing left on the surface, Logan. The base is underground.”

~~~

When Logan thought couldn’t get anymore angry at himself, now he was furious. He paced at the end of the jet stairs, huffing a cigar. Why didn’t he think to look underground? If he had, would you have been taken? Would Logan have been able to stop Stryker before all this could happen?

Not to mention that Logan was growing more worried for your safety with each passing second. What were Stryker’s plans for you? And would Logan be too late whenever they ended up there?

“Hey,” Jean greeted as she came down the stairs.

“Hey,” he huffed, focusing on his spiraling thoughts.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“What do you think?” He inhaled, turning to face her. “How we doing?”

“Not good,” Jean sighed, wiping her hands off with a rag. “It’ll take four or five hours before I can get it off the ground.”

“Great.” He shook his head with a scoff.

“I’m trying my best, Logan.”

“It’s not enough! Y/N is there, with Stryker! Something that I promised would never happen again!”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do,” he chuckled darkly. “And the cruel matter of it all is that I remembered after she was taken. So it doesn’t matter now!” He began pacing again. “I should have been with her anyway if I wasn’t so chicken. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own fears, I would have been down there with her when they came.”

“They would have fought to get to her. Stryker probably wanted her back.”

“I would have fought harder.” He fell back onto one of the steps, head hanging. “Did you know about her history with Stryker?”

Jean sighed. “Y/N has never opened up about the specifics of her past. She didn’t want to talk about you, it seemed. I did know that she had gone through trauma. But not who caused it and what it was.”

“Stryker faked her death to get to me… at least that’s what I’ve pieced together… I don’t put it past him to do something worse this time around.”

“We’ll get to her, Logan. We’ll get her back and Scott and the Professor.”

“And what then? I don’t even know where to start with her. Y/N remembers having a whole relationship and I remember fragments. Not enough to make sense of anything.”

“Do you care for her?”

Logan waited to respond, searching his own emotions. “I do… Too much. But it’s all…” He tapped the side of his head.

“Then how about you start at the beginning?”

Logan shook his head. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’m sure she’ll do it… for you.”

Logan went silent, focusing on his cigar and his thoughts. Maybe Jean was right. Perhaps starting over, a clean slate, would be what’s best for the both of you. Logan vowed that when he rescued you, he would be honest with you and figure out how to start back at the beginning. 

next chapter >

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 17: Lucy Chen x Male!reader - Undercover

You and Lucy had been sent on an undercover job where you were currently stuck in a private plane headed to Vegas surrounded by gang members you tricked into letting you aid in their casino heist.

Lucy needed a moment to breathe so she takes your hand and guides you towards the planes bathroom.

“Where are you two going?” One of the guys asks.

“We're gonna get lucky before we even hit the casino,” she smirks.

Inside the bathroom Lucy lets out a deep sigh and you can see the tension in her shoulders.

“You good?” You ask her, placing a hand on her cheek and rubbing your thumb across her skin to comfort her.

“Yeah, just nervous,” she confesses.

“Hey you got this,” you say, kissing her sweetly, “and if you need us to be pulled out Angela, Tim and Nyla can fake arrest us at the casino.”

“No, no I'm okay,” Lucy assures you.

“Alright then,” you smile at her but as you go to open the door she stops you.

“Wait,” she says, “we're supposed to be hooking up in here.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, unsure if she's suggesting what you think she's suggesting and she grabs your neck and brings you in for a far more intense kiss.

She slips her hand in your pants groping your cock through your underwear.

“I can't believe we are actually doing this,” you chuckle.

“I need something to calm my nerves,” she grins at you.

You lift Lucy onto the sink as you make out, both of you shimmying out of the lower half of your clothes just enough that you can slip your now hard cock inside her.

She pounds her fist into the door and moans loudly making a show to keep your cover up to the guys outside which makes you laugh.

“I didn't know you were such the exhibitionist,” you tease as you find a steady rhythm that she likes.

“I'd rather be in here with you than out there with them making small talk until we land,” she replies, throwing her head back against the mirror.

You kiss at her neck and palm her chest through her shirt, Lucy still moaning loudly.

She reaches down and rubs firm circles over her clit, her legs wrapping tightly around your waist as she comes closer to her release.

With her legs spread wider you you can now fuck her from a new angle which makes her eyes roll back.

“Right there, right there,” she moans and she cums hard.

You let her ride out her high before pulling out of her when you feel your own orgasm nearing.

As much as you wanted to cum in or on her now was not the time or place so you step to the side and shoot cum into the sink.

“Damn that was hot,” she says as you start to clean up and make yourselves decent again.

“You feeling better?” You ask, noticing how much more relaxed she seemed.

“Much better,” she smiles.

“Good cause I think I just heard the pilot announce we’re about to land over the speaker,” you say.

“Let's go arrest some bad guys,” she says confidently, kissing you one more time.

[runawayolives]

So for baby daddy Nate, does reader go to school visibly pregnant? Or once she starts showing she does virtual school?

Thank you for the ask, anon!

So this is not that, but something I had in mind kind of in the same topic.

This belongs to the series Baby Daddy

Maddy took a deep breath while laying down in her backyard, running her hand over her face.

"How is college application going?"

"Nonexistent."

She turned around to face her slightly pregnant friend. "What do you mean nonexistent?"

She shrugged, replying with a dry tone. "It means I'm 17 and pregnant, and I don't want to be a college student and a mother at the same time."

"So? Your parents offered all the help to raise it, you can go to college and during the weekends be with it." Maddy tried to hide the distaste she felt towards the small thing currently existing in her friends abdomen, seeing it as the biggest impediment in both their lives.

"It isn't an it anymore it's a she."

"I don't give a fuck what it is, what I care about is that you're not going to college because of it." She turned her head around to face her friend, practically seeing smoke coming out of her ears and nose.

"Mads, she isn't the guilty one, you said it, my parents offered to raise her."

"Then why are you not going?"

"I don't want someone else raising my child, I don't want her to see her childhood as a period where I was too preoccupied studying to be her mother." This time she really looked at Maddy. She looked at her as if gazing into her eyes would connect with her soul. She wasn't just looking at her, she was trying to explain in a too deeply way her reasons that had already become a stable decision.

"She won't remember."

"She will know eventually."

"If you don't go now, you will never go."

"Lorelei Gilmore did it."

"Fuck her." Y/N broke off eye contact to laugh. She liked Maddy because her abrasiveness did just that, in high tension moments, it acted as a terminator, making it all disappear ear. "Don't laugh, I didn't say that for you to laugh."

"Why are you so mad about this, Mads?" Her friend scoffed, looking away, as if the racional answer was somehow in the clouds or the sky.

"What about me?" Y/N was too confused by the question to read her friends body language.

"I mean, you're like the number one not fan of the baby, but I guess you can be the godmother. Or you could learn how to cook and we could start an inn and raise a bratty and train-wreck kid." Maddy stood up, still not turning around to face her friend.

"What about me, Y/N?"

"Mads, I don't understand what you're asking." She finally turned around, facing her friend. Y/N could now see her face, red and with a few angry tears falling down her cheeks.

"What about me, Y/N? If you don't make it out, what does that mean about me? If this has happened to you, there's no hope for me."

"Maddy..."

"No, don't sugar coat it. I was rooting for you, I was. My mother was proud of me whenever she saw us together, she could see me actually doing something with my life. And now you're here, giving up, ruining your life for a baby you haven't planned and stuck to a guy that is set on ruining your life. If that's what you get, I don't want to know what's waiting for me." She took a deep breath and kneeled down beside her friend. "You've given up on yourself, but I won't. I won't because I refuse to believe this is all there's going to be to your life."

Y/N leaned forward to hug her friend, squishing her as if that would make all her worries evaporate. "I have not given up on you, Maddy Perez, and I'll never will."

They both stood there, for as long as they needed, crying and sometimes laughing, trying to find humor in their seemingly dooming predicament.

[vinelark]

do you have comic recs for someone who wants to get into tim and timkon? I read superman comics but your fic made me wanna know more about this character who makes me want to eat metal with how weird and scary he is (affectionate)

hello! and welcome to the “weird scary little guy who makes you want to eat metal” (or perhaps put him in a salad spinner) club

tim has many, many comics, so for the purposes of this i’ll go with some big arcs/series and then some random personal favs

a lonely place of dying (1989): aka tim’s intro, in which 13 y/o tim engages in his favorite pastime (stalking dick grayson), tries to be a family therapist, and somehow ends up in a cape and pointy boots at the end of it.

robin (1993): so much content spanning so many batman plotlines; this is just issue after issue of tim being the most 90s kid to ever 90s kid (and then 00s kid to ever 00s kid). also much of it is written by chuck dixon, who is good at being so homophobic that the characters loop right back around to being queer.

young justice (1998): for both tim and kon (and bart and cassie and the whole yj crew)! also featuring tim and kon both wearing gloves that are way too big for them. no idea what's going on there but it's kind of like when puppies have giant paws they haven't grown into yet.

red robin (2009): THE tim comic to me, partially because marcus to draws most of it (issue 6 on i believe) and the way he draws tim here is peak tim to me, and partially because tim is just balls to the wall bonkers in fucking yonkers the whole series. this spans his brucequest and damian becoming robin (and damian in this is so!! and dick is so!!) while tim takes his shaky next steps. he’s in his messy bitch era but also stuck at 17(?) so that just means he’s randomly making out with sort-of-adversaries on rooftops and thinking longingly of kon and getting fake engaged(??) to a girl he can barely ask on a first date. (it has scant few but still some good timkon moments here and there.) (and speaking of marcus to: this and this.)

a lonely place of living (detective comics) (2017): an arc in which everyone thought tim was dead but surprise! he was just stuck in a pocket dimension prison and now he has to come back and stop gun batman (again). feat. tim being wildly competent from page one. kon is, iirc, currently erased from the timeline but never fear, tim still manages to find a way to think about him.

random/short comics:

WF3: superboy & robin (1996): tim & kon solve a case together in a two-parter that is, as described by a reviewer on its league of comic geeks entry, "…a pretty fun meet cute, I mean team-up…" (basically: see above re: chuck dixon.)

knight terrors: robin (2023): a two-parter in which tim and jason are trapped in a sentient nightmare together. if you like those vibes definitely check out this fic.

nightwing (1996) #25: tim being an annoying little brother is something that can be so personal—

[asocialangel]

soulmate give away pt2 with characters like Reo and Chigiri? :)

My pleasure ! Thank you for asking, i hope you like it, lovelyyyyy

Ion think i'd do a part 3 cause i'm running out of ideas so bad aa

soulmate give away (pt 2)

What made the bllk boys realize you might be their soulmate. 

Do you believe in soulmates ? To be fair, sometimes, some signs can be considered as dead giveaways that you and he are meant to be. 

super shorts hc, gender neutral with reo, chigiri, sae, kunigami, bachira and nagi. fluffy ig ? part 1 includes: isagi, kurona, shidou, rin, kaiser and barou.

ꕥ

Reo: Makes you want to be a better person. For an unexplainable reason, just being around him makes you feel complete and makes you want to reach higher horizons. It’s like when you’re him you know your potential can be accomplished. 

Chigiri: Has watched the same underground, unknown, arthouse unfamous movie as you did. When you guys realized you quoted the same quote, you were really, really confused and couldn't believe it. How come you and him both knew about this movie with like 17 streams AND both happen to really like it ? You called it an invisible string. 

Sae: You have his lucky charm he lost when he was a teenager. So basically up until he was 15 he had this clover keychain that was his (secret) lucky charm. Until he lost it, randomly dropping it in the metro. You picked it up and it became YOUR lucky charm. When you met him, he recognized it instantly. Your destinies liked each other enough to bring you guys to meet again. 

Bachira: You feel the same things regardless of how far apart you are. He’ll be yawing in Brazil and so will you be in Madagascar. You sneeze in the shower, so will he on the field. Sad for no reason ? He’s probably currently watching a k-drama. Ain't that a compassionate soul for ya ?

Kunigami: There is electricity whenever you touch. Literally static electric shocks every time you guys brush against each other. If you let go for just one second, the next time you touch you’ll feel a spark again. 

Nagi: You guys get each other. As in you GET each other. Without a word, you know what the other one is thinking and without a word, act consequently. Even when you were classmates, even when you were just friends. It’s like you share the same mind. People started thinking you guys had made a secret code at this point. 

A/N: yayy i don't think i've ever answered an ask this fast !!! It's not that good but i was really surprised it got a bit of love~~ Isagi smut coming sooooon (my frist 'smut' nd it's not even that smutty kkkkk)

[dreamings-free]

Hi! Do you know for how many years Louis’ current team has been with him? At least the main ones like his band, grooming, Helen, management? I was scrolling down on Louis’ insta and saw Helen’s comment back in 2017 and was like 🤔

hi anon 😊

this has been in my inbox for a while since it a big q and I've been on holiday on and off.. but here is a good bit of background info for you :

Helen Seamons has indeed worked with Louis since 2017. afaik she first styled Louis for the Observer Mag article shoot on 2/5/17. later that month Louis was styled by both Helen and Krystle for the Back To You music video and they have both been part of his team ever since. Helen has also had a few styling assistants working with her for Louis over the years, like Bemi Shaw (TXF 2018), Peter Bevan (since 2021) and Roz Donoghue (since 2022 I think?)

as for management, we first heard about Louis signing with Three Six Zero and Mark Gillespie for management in July 2018, around the time Louis started filming TXF, but it had probably happened a while before that (at least I believe that Mark - and Matt Vines too - had a hand in the way TXF was used as a reintroduction of Louis to both fans and the general public, and that deal had to have been made earlier that year). at some point however Louis seems to have switched from Gillespie and Three Six Zero to be managened by Matt Vines at Seven 7 Managent (or at least co-managed, because Vines has ties to Gillespie and Three Six Zero; he was VP of Artist Management at Three Six Zero’s UK branch before starting his own management co. Seven 7 in 2016) - who he’s still with today.

the band is a looong story.. as you may know Louis first put a band together back in 2017 for Miss You promo and a few performances like Royal Variety. Zak Craner was part of that band and is the only one still in Louis' touring band now. (tho Rich Zbaraski who was also in the 2017 band replaced Matt on bass for a few gig in 2022). sometime after Louis' time on TXF, probably in early 2019, a new band was formed. we don't have all the details but I believe Matt Vines brought in Steve Durham (who it seems he knew already) and had him put a band together (Matt Dinnadge talks about this in the video interview he did during the pandemic). the initail lineup, which we saw briefly for Two Of Us promo, consisted of Steve Durham (musical director, drums), Zak Craner (keys), Michael Blackwell (guitar) and Charlie Fowler (bass). later that year when Louis came back for the release of Kill My Mind the music video featured the same band except Matt Dinnadge had replaced Fowler on bass. Matt’s first live gig with Louis was Coca Cola Music Festival in Madrid. Isaac Anderson (rhythm guitar) was added to the band later in 2019 - his very first live show with Louis was the Telehit performance in Mexico City ! and those five have made up the band ever since ☺️

hope that’s the info you were looking for!

if you're on desktop you can try these links for various tags in chronological order:

lt management | three six zero | seven 7 | louis’ band

[inuiiwonderland]

Twisted captivity

Chapter 4

Twst third years x fem reader

A/n: So sorry for not updating in over a month😭 life’s been rough lately and work has me TIRED. Anyways I will be back on my grind soon guys (after a good nap)

Words: 1.1k

-

“Leona kingscholar”

It read. After that scary encounter at the savanaclaw enclosure, you thought it would be a good idea to get some more information from Crowley about the three mers you met the other day.

The moment you got home, you did a deep dive about their past and background information for the next 3 hours.

Jack howl

Current Age: 16

Rescued/Found: Found washed up on shore with a big heavy fishing net on him. It was a hassle trying to set him free since the poor mer was confused and scared seeing all these strange people trying to touch him.

He was only 9 at the time

Poor boy, he never saw his Family again after Crowley decided to take him in his care.

You quickly wiped the small tear that slid down your cheek and grabbed the second document.

Ruggie bucchie

Current Age: 17

Rescued/Found: Was kept in captivity by a crazy fisher family before being found by trein.

The family that kept ruggie said he was abandoned by his family but both Crowley and trein didn’t believe it. Poor boy probably got caught up in their nets. It was later discovered that the home that ruggie was kept in was a merfolk slaughterhouse. He was taken away from his family at the age of 4 and was originally planned to be slaughtered and sold but that was soon forgotten when the sweet old lady who was against the whole thing stopped them from hurting him.

He was 6 when they rescued him from that crazy family.

And last but not least

“Leona kingscholar”

Age: 24

Rescued/Found: Unknown

“Huh?” You frown and flip through the many pages of Leona's document. But found nothing. The only thing you could find was his name, age, weight, height, and species.

You’ll have a talk with Crowley tomorrow morning about this. You wiped your tears before getting up and placing your cup in the sink. You took the documents with you and made your way upstairs for a much needed rest.

-

The next day you tried getting more information about Leona's background from crowley but the moment you asked it’s like he completely stopped functioning and was acting strange.

Before you could even ask again, he quickly shoo’d you away and told you that your main focus for today was taking care of the savanaclaw enclosure.

So here you are with your notebook and pen and your lunch as you make your way to the enclosure.

“Wonder what that was all about” You mumble under your breath as you take out your notebook and pen.

You hummed to yourself as you quickly jotted down notes for your mer friends from heartslabyul.

Ace has been wanting to try more of that cherry tart that you brought in the other day while deuce wants some more of that chocolate cake.

I should sneak some more of that next time I’m assigned to heartslabyul

Once the big doors of the enclosure came into view you started putting away your stuff in your bag before pushing the big doors open.

You didn’t know what to expect when you first stepped foot into savannaclaw but you definitely didn’t expect there to be a meeting of some sorts.

You saw as everyone gathered around this huge rock and you had to squint to see who they were all looking up to.

It was Leona!

You were shocked to see as everyone gathered around him silently. He was talking but you couldn’t understand anything that he was saying since whatever was coming out of his mouth didn’t sound human.

Merfolk language

The only thing you could hear was chirps and clicks. Whatever he was saying he had everyone nodding along in agreement.

But your observation was soon cut short when you let out a sneeze. Everyone quickly turned to see you watching them. You awkwardly waved as everyone just stared.

You feel uncomfortable now that everyone's eyes are on you.

You thanked the heavens when Leona grabs everyone’s attention again. All eyes are back on him.

He let out a few more chirps and clicks and soon the meeting was dismissed.

You watch as everyone swam in different directions while two of them stayed behind.

Ruggie and Jack!

You slowly walked up to them and you could see ruggie wave at you once you came into view.

It seems he’s taken a liking towards me. That 's good!

“Hey ruggie” He chirps before sniffing the air. His eyes quickly land on your bag before looking back at you.

“My bag?” He points at it before pointing at his mouth.

That’s when you remember that you had your lunch with you.

Ah he’s hungry

You sat down on the patchy grass and pulled your bag towards you. You opened it up and the boy came closer as the smell of your lunch grew strong.

You heard a small growl and the boy sheepishly smiled when you looked at him.

You dig through your bag before taking out a sandwich, a drink, and a small bag of donuts.

Water splashes everywhere as Leona growls and shouts in the merfolk language at ruggie but he doesn't care as you gave him half of your sandwich. He takes small bites before scarfing down the rest.

He pats his belly before sniffing again and eyeing your small bag of donuts. You grab the bag and hand him one of the donuts.

He sniffs it before eating it whole. His eyes widen and he eyes the bag of donuts before pointing at the bag and then his mouth.

He likes it. I should keep that in mind for future visits!

“You like the donut? Want more?” He nods.

“More” You giggle before giving him another one. As your attention was on ruggie, you didn’t notice leona stare. Jack was a bit hesitant but he soon worked up the courage to swim closer to you. You looked at Jack and smiled as you gave him a donut.

Now your main attention was on the two merfolks in front of you.

Leona watches carefully at the interaction that you have with the two young mers in front of you. Ruggie seemed to fully feel comfortable in your presence while Jack is still trying to get used to it.

At least you aren’t one of the mean ones

Leona thinks

He still doesn’t fully trust you, but…..he can get used to this new change.

-

“Y/nnnnn!” You mentally groan and resist the urge to roll your eyes when you hear your name being called by the one and only….crowley.

“Yes crowley?” The man smiles as he hands you stacks of papers.

“This is for you!”

“For…me?”

“Yes! For I so graciously decided to assign you to 5 more enclosures!”

“What”

WHAT???

“You’ll get paid more!”

Oh brother…..

-

I noticed that i haven’t introduced the rest of the heartslabyul crew but don’t worry! They will soon be introduced! Again the first and second year crew view reader as a mother figure/older sister! Those poor babies went through a lot under crowley’s care:(

more Information in future chapters

Taglist:

@ruisann

@roseapov

@0ffth3rec0rd

@anunholyabomination

@owodi

@mochi-lover26

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@floevi

@thatpersonuouknow

@h0rr0r-10ver-69

Ask if you want to be put on the Taglist!

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 18 - "We can't do this on our own."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mentions of DannyXBruce ship

A/N: Inspired by the comments and Reblogs of Prompt 17. I advise to read that one first before reading this, also posting this early because I won't have the time to do that tomorrow. Credits for inspiring this continuation go to @charlietheepic7 and @noxcheshire

After the babysitting disaster Dick had sworn Tim and Damian into secrecy about. The bat-sibling had quickly warmed up to the phantom children and invited them several more times to visit them at the manor. Damian had even doubled his efforts in getting along with them, still believing they were his half siblings, despite Bruce having tried to explain to them in private that this wasn't the case.

Of course that didn't mean that Damian wasn't butting heads with them at all, in fact they were only sitting together like this now because Damian and Dan had gotten into a fight about whether or not Phantom was an adequate partner for Bruce. Dan appeared to have taken offense to that in some form and declared that Bruce was the one not suited to be with his Mom.

The fight ended with Dani, five years old little girl Dani, kicking down both Damian and her own brother, before proceeding to sit on Dan while loudly yelling that he was risking their entire plan of setting up their Mom with Uncle Bruce so Auntie Valerie would stop trying to be their Step Mom. Which brought them back to their current situation of the five of them sitting together in the main hang out room.

Dan grumbled inaudible, arms crossed and glaring at the bat children assembled before him. Dani giggled, nudging her big brother's leg. "Don't go nonverbal now!"

"Nonverbal?" Dick couldn't help but question, causing Dan to snarl at him while Dani still smiled very brightly at them.

"Big Brother sometimes only talks in growls and snarls. Auntie Jazz said it's got something to do with what he's been through. Mom says big brother isn't socialized enough yet." The boy only growled, glaring at them while he pulled the little girl into a hug and made her sit between his legs, making Dani giggle once more grinning bridely. The two Phantom children were seated on a loveseat together now in the general hang out room of Wayne Manor. Dick, Tim and Damian sat across from them on the couch.

The bat kids exchanged glances. Bruce can try as he might, there was no hiding the relation he had with the Phantom kids. There were too many things that added to the fact that the kids had to be Damians half siblings.

Damian looked rather disgruntled, arms also crossed as he turned to return Dan's glare with the same intensity. "Father, may have been trying to hide you from us but his attempts at gaining Nightingale favor are just as pathetic as the excuses he has been giving us in regards to our relation."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "I was not even aware that Bruce tried to flirt with Phantom at all."

Dick patted Tims shoulder in mock condolence. "I have seen the Phantom-Batman dynamic since my days as Robin… It was horrible and painful to watch. Jason can attest to that."

"Mom is as dense as a neutron star." Dan muttered looking away from them.

As if realizing something Dani blinked a couple of times before staring wide eyed at Dick and pointing with one hand at him. "You're the menace Robin! You're the one that asked Superman to throw you high into the air so you could do flips! Mom even said that you asked him once if he could phase you halfway through a wall or turn you invisible to scare your rogues!"

Both Tim and Damian stared at their older brother unimpressed.

"I guess that did happen. Well back to topic!" Dick tried to deflect which sort of worked. But more because Tim got curious about something.

"I don't get how you guys know about us but we didn't know about you two at all. Phantom never mentioned either of you before, not even when he came to visit as Danny. Before we were told about him being Phantom." Tim muttered, completely ignoring Dick as he turned his attention to the two kids. The two children in turn exchanged knowing looks.

"Mom and Auntie Jazz were worried that big brother would get PTSD seeing the Justice League. That's why Uncle Bruce and Superman are the only ones who really knew about us." Dani explained looking up at her older brother who suddenly sported a feral grin, showing off suddenly very sharp appearing teeth. "Though Superman learning about us was more a spur of the moment than intentional telling him."

"Mom was so mad at him." Dan mentioned his sharp teeth glinting as he exchanged a feral look with his sister. It sent a shiver down the batkids' back, making them remember that the kid mentioned he had apparently murdered all of them before. The image of little ten years old Dan standing in a sea of blue fire and laughing like a maniac crossed their minds for a brief moment before they pushed the memories of the babysitting disaster into the depths of their minds again. "He would have beat him up if Uncle Bruce didn't stop him. Instead Mom put Supes through the lecture of a lifetime using us as his how-it's-supposed-to-be example."

"Oh and we met big bro J when Frostbite helped with his treatment!" Dani added clapping her hands together all cutely while her brother on the other hand ended up growling. "He still owns me a spar."

"That… explains nothing." Tim retorted, eyes narrowed at the two kids who only shrugged refusing to explain any more than they had.

Damian meanwhile ended up glaring at nothing as he crossed his arms muttering something about punishing Todd for having been in cahoots with his father and keeping his younger siblings from him. Dick smiled, their youngest apparently really like the thought of having two younger siblings of his own now.

"Can we please get back to topic? About these two trying to set up Danny and Bruce?" Dick tried once more, he really wanted to know more about this whole 'we attempted to set our mom up with Bruce' deal the two kids had going on.

"What is there to question, Richard? My half siblings appear to want for my father and their mother to be together." Damian huffed with his attention being on his eldest brother he did not notice the confused look Dani gave the older boy before looking at her own brother only for Dan to sport a mix of a feral and mischievous grin the girl soon returned when a look of understanding crossed her face briefly.

"So are you guys going to help?" Dani looked at them with big baby blue and pleading eyes. Dan gave them a red eyed glare as if daring them to disagree with his sister. "As big brother said Mom is a neutron star! We can't do this on our own. But now that you guys know you can help!"

The three bat-kids exchanged a look, though it appeared as if Damian had already made a decision on that matter the moment he learned that Phantom was the mother of his half siblings. Dick grinned, pulling out his phone. "If we are going to do this then I am calling in the cavalry."

In other words Dick was going to call in all their siblings as back up. They had been discussing making Phantom, aka Danny Nightingale, a more permanent fixture in their lives before after he had helped Jason. Now they had even more reason to do so with two baby siblings added into their lot.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Loyalties

Kim HongJoong x (f) Detective Reader

Summary: He held her itty bitty heart in his bloody palm and she knew that, but did she love him enough to let him win his little game everytime? Did he love her enough to risk her safety?

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: Joong's a perv (Idk okay), mention of gunshots, strong language.

Word Count: 2.5K

Read Time: 12 min

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

She hated him, no she despised him, no she loathed that disgusting, horrid, weasel of a man. She despised his cheap ass fur coat, his unnecessary bling and those pants! Her blood would boil at the mere name of that demonic, immature moron, she despised every little detail about him; his angular face, his sharp eyes that would glimmer like the stars swirling with pure mischief, his light chuckle that would ring in her ears like the voice of an angel, oh and she really, really, abhorred the way he'd look at her, with the warmth of pure love - NO!

Mentally slapping herself she cleared her throat, rehearsing the first stanza of hatred that ran hot in her veins for the infamous leader of MATZ. Technically it was just two men, boys who were usually called in for petty crimes turned into men who were now challenging the system- a knock-off of any vigilante out there. Batman, Daredevil, even the Punisher, see these men had class and style- MATZ, well, they had style...but perhaps the fact that explaining how her once high school friends are now notorious criminals or wannabe Robinhood would be a bit difficult. Perhaps this little fact only added to her current presiding problem, one she had mentioned to her lover, explicitly mentioning her concerns; for the safety of his life and her professional career. Once again, that bastard let his deflated ego in the way, her words bouncing off it without ever reaching his useless, dysfunctional brain.

So, here she stood, in front of her captain, watching him go on and on about the need for order and justice, the need for law and police work, and more importantly the need for loyalty. Loyalty, a trait that was of importance, though her's was being questioned.

"Where do your loyalties lie detective?"

"With the force, Sir" With a salute she looked dead ahead, not at him, no, through him, trying to figure out the answer to this very question. Where did her loyalties lie?

"Then how is it, you've been leading the task force to capture MATZ for three years and each time you are close they miraculously slip away!" his large, meaty hands slammed on the table, her partner beside her flinching, though not a jerk left her bones. Instead, her eyes flickered to his face, instantly scanning his form, this man looked like anything but eh definition of justice, safety and security - if anything, he looked more like a criminal than that moron of hers.

"I assure you, Sergeant, my loyalties lie where my heart has ever since I was a little girl. My friendship with Joong- " pausing she cleared her throat, ignoring the way he raised a brow at he before glancing at her partner as if hinting at something "MATZ, both Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa ended as soon as they started this life of crime."

"I don't trust you an ounce detective, not one bit." slumping back in his seat he stared up at her, "But the Captain trusts ya for some reason, believes you a good egg- I just think you're a cracked egg, too far gone for anything else- so I'll tell you this, I'm on to ya, I'll be watching you, listening to you, from the moment you step into his precinct ill be watching your every move."

.

"Well, that was something." Jongho muttered, closing the door behind him, "Do you...want to grab a bite or something?"

"I'm good." giving him a small smile she sat back at her desk, sifting through the papers, not a word written processing in her already occupied mind. The traffic of thoughts only stopped when a hand rested on hers, "I may be younger than you, but we're partners, and my mentor has always told to me trust my partner. "

His soft words, followed by his cute smile had her sigh in defeat, sitting back down and nodding, "Some mentor you have, huh?"

"She's the best of the best." Puffing up his chest with pride he placed his hands on her desk, "Now, what can I do, to make my mentor feel better."

"Nothing, really Jong, I- " her words caught up as she noticed something. Her eyes caught the way her system was on, the screen lit up, the mouse icon moving on its own, she was being - shit. Instantly reaching for the cable, she pulled the plug on the CPU.

"Um...did you see what I just saw?"

"Jongho, get Yunho and tell him to track whatever the hell that was."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.

The door slammed shut, the darkness just adding to her anger, of course, he wouldn't turn on the lights, no lamp or bulb, choosing to sit on the small balcony - maybe she should just push him off, the idea extremely tempting at this point.

Placing her badge and gun on the table she made her way to the small balcony at the other end of the living room, making sure to turn on a lamp on the way out. Sliding the door open she sighed, the cool breeze prickling her warm skin, a shiver running down her spine as she stepped out completely, barely missing the small table as she made her way to the seat her boyfriend was currently sprawled on, limbs extending like the roots of the potted plants behind him. His head lay against the cushioned headrest, turning his head to face her, an easy smile making its way to his face, the warm glow of the fairy lights from the wall beside him only adding onto his beautiful face, making him appear oh so soft and lovable.

"Hey babe." his words barely above a whisper.

"Joong~" she sang, slowly getting on top of him, making herself comfortable until she was fully straddling him, his hands automatically finding their place on her back, holding onto her tight, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, "Did you miss me?"

"You bet your pretty ass, I did," he mumbled, eying the way she moved closer, her chest pressed against his, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head.

"Aw~ baby" she pouted before gripping onto the ends of his hair and tugging hard, his head tilting back as a whimper escaped him, damn, his girl was in the mood- or so he thought.

"I didn't you f*cker." her grip tightened, tilting his head further back with another tug, his own fingers digging into her sides, trying to keep some form of control.

"Why~" whining with his eyes closed, he treasured the burning sensation, his princess knew how to play and he liked it so very much.

"Did you get Youngie to tap into my system? Do you want me to get fired? Or do you want me to shoot you in the d*ck?"

"Aw baby~ it's just work." his eyes finally snapped open, standing up without warning as a high-pitched squeak left her lips, arms instantly locking around his neck, much like her legs around his waist, staring up at him wide-eyed.

A chuckle echoed in the dark of the night as his hands finally gripped her close, "Don't worry doll, I'd never let ya fall." Walking them into the apartment he looked down at her frowning, "Did someone piss off my princess ?"

"Joong, " sighing she glanced away, letting him carry her around like she weighed nothing, like she was a mere muse he was addicted to, clinging onto him, onto his fur coat- wait God, he was wearing the orange one, she hated it.

"Yes, love?" slowly setting her down on the bed he shrugged off his jacket, going to the cupboard to hang it, his precious baby wasn't cheap!

"I can only protect you if you trust me, but if you hack into my system or pull shit like that and they fire me, who knows what- I- I just can't lose you" her words clogging up in her throat, the burning sensation all too evident behind her eyes, " what I mean is" sighing she paused to rephrase, his casual attitude just adding to the frustration as he walked towards her, swaying like a cat, stopping right in front of her sitting form, "Hongjoong, I'm serious, with me, it is just a game of cat and mouse but if I get replaced, if its someone else, it'll be serious and they might even-"

"Shhh..." placing a finger on her lips he hushed her, his hand caressing her cheek, admiring how she nuzzled into his palm, "You know love, " he whispered leaning closer till their noses touched, "I am a very dangerous man, I am more than just your lover."

"But-"

"I'll lay off your system," brushing his lips against hers, "Detective." Pulling back he smiled down at her, admiring how she looked up at him with teary eyes filled with nothing but love and worry, letting his intrusive thoughts win and squishing her cheeks with one hand, laughing at her whining in protest.

His other hand pulled out something from his back, showing her the shiny metal toy of his, "If it were someone else, other than you, that f*cker would already be dead, you're the only reason why I haven't torn this system down to shreds." with one last kiss to the forehead, her lovable idiot of a man once again promised to stay out of her way, at least for a while.

.

"This is team two, The ground floor is clear."

He did it again, he must've done it again, no way in hell did he not do it.

"Team three reporting from floor 1, all clear."

"Boss" Jongho mumbled beside her, turning off his comm, "Did you tell him?"

Sighing she adjusted her bulletproof west as the two walked into the basement, "Yes, I told that bastard, my system wasn't tapped, I double-checked." Of course, her junior knew about her little relationship, she did teach him that a mentor and mentee should have no secrets, even ones like these. It didn't take him long to accept it either, saying something along the lines of, "Is he really that bad if he's fighting against a system that has failed us?"

"Because Yunho just texted me saying your phone was tapped instead. "

"I hate him."

"Team two reporting, roof's all clear boss."

"This doesn't look good," he mumbled, trailing hot on her heels as the two entered the basement, a parking lot with two entrances. They were going to split up, "We can't go empty-handed, we need something at least."

"I know. Let's split up, and be on your guard."

With that the two parted ways, her footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, the scraping of her boots muffling the jingle of her gun, one that was aimed and ready to shoot. A low chuckle caught her ear.

"STOP RIGHT THERE." She yelled, turning to aim at the fool, his smirk pissing her off even more, "Don't.Move."

"Hey doll." the deep voice from beside her alerting her senses, "You should go check up on your partner, baby bear's knocked out like Goldilocks." Seonghwa chuckled, making his way to stand next to Hongjoong who had his hands up for a show, the smug look never leaving his face.

"Aw, come on detective, just let us go and we can call it a night."

A loud bang, followed by a series of bangs, resonated across the entire parking lot.

"ALL UNITS TO THE BASEMENT, NOW!"

.

"You okay?" she asked, pressing the icepack against the bump on his head, "Told you to wear the helmet."

"Are YOU okay?" he asked, others around them looking at their head's bulletproof jacket, staring at the four shots right across it. Though that's not what he meant, he was definitely asking about something else.

"Yeah, great actually." Patting her head she turned around when someone called her name, eying the office who handed her a phone, "It's the sergeant, detective." rolling her eyes she pressed it against her ear, "Hello?"

"Detective. I heard about the encounter but didn't think you had it in ya to shoot him. Glad the bulletproof vest worked though, you're a good agent, we can't risk losing. I take it back, you have my trust and support. Get home safe."

.

Slamming the door shut she sighed in relief, kicking off her shoes she made her way into the living room, oh? The lights were on, what a pleasant surprise, wonder what happened?

"Hey honey how was work?" she smirked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched her shirtless boyfriend glare back at her, both ignoring the other man in the room who was tending to the gunshot wound.

Raising a brow, he scoffed, "Oh great love I got shot today by a bitch-"

"I'm still holding my gun Joong, don't test me"

Slamming his hand on his thigh he yelled "YOU SHOT ME- you SHOT ME IN THE SHOULDER!" hissing in pain as Seonghwa clicked his tongue, mumbling a stay still as he patched up the hole. This was all he could do before Yeosang could come over and have a proper look at it.

"YOU TAPPED MY PHONE"

"WELL YOUR SERGEANT WAS GETTING TOO COZY WITH YA- man's a perv, I know it" he spat back, shoving Seonghwa out of the way with his free hand, earning a curse in return.

"HONGJOONG, HE WAS DOUBTING MY LOYALTIES!" she explained and pointed at herself, "AND YOU SHOT ME TOO!"

A dramatic gasp echoed across the room followed by a hand placed on his chest - his heart, mind you-, causing Seonghwa to roll his eyes, here we go again, he should've never befriended these two in high school. Mumbling to himself about their idiocy he walked out to the balcony, deciding to smoke instead of listening to these idiots.

"First of all, YOU shot ME first and" he yelled and turned to point at the balcony, "That motherf*cker shot you, not me! I agree four times was a bit excessive but hey you were the one who kept going on and on about us being too soft on ya." Turning to her with raised brows, "And loyalties? Babe, come on, I mean, you and I- like we like- I've been in you multiple times, day or night and-"

"CAN YOU NOT!" she screamed, gesturing at the open door of the balcony.

'I don't care, pretend I'm not here, that's what I'm pretending too!' was all they could hear from the balcony, causing her face to resemble a tomato, though her shameless boyfriend was as nonchalant as ever, continuing his little speech, half naked in the living room.

"All I'm saying is, I don't question your loyalties because I know you've got the hots for me like I completely get it, I'd wanna sleep with me too, but your creep of a boss knows his soggy sausage aint worth your time and-"

"I should've aimed for your d*ck"

"Would you really though? Cause I know you loyal to my d-"

"And this conversation is over." with that she stomped away, speed walking when she heard the loud cackles of Seonghwa followed by the laughter of her own idiot of a man. No, boys, they were still the same shameless teenage boys, she accidentally had the unfortunate fate of meeting in school, when she was nothing but a victim of loneliness, turning her grey dull days into chaotic, colourful ones pulled out of the ass of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

[ghostofacrow]

Dune discourse is uniquely annoying because there's a bunch of extremely obvious, in-your-face orientalism perpetuated by the main characters that's being discussed at nauseum and is very easy to dismiss and completely overshadows any actual issues with the movie, like the refusal to use recognisable arabic phrases or the hiring practices. I'll be charitable here and assume that people have a rightfully negative reaction to how those images of white people, particularly Jessica, are used as marketing material, instead of just not getting the point, and with how often concerns like this are overlooked, I can understand why they aren't receptive to "no this thing that media does uncritically all the time is meant to be bad THIS time actually trust me bro just read this 1000 page book".

Seemingly the entire film crew having cold feet about including references to real world anti-colonial movements or just normal Arabic would always be concerning, but especially given the current situation in Palestine and it's all overshadowed by the colonisers in the book acting like colonisers because every other issue is more complicated. Dune, as a text, still believes in noble savages and "hard times create hard men" nonsense. I'm really not coming at this from a "don't criticise the thing I like" angle, but debates about Jessica's outfit have made me learn nothing besides occasionally seeing really cool pictures of real arabic clothing, while reading Haris A. Durrani's dissections of the books and the current adaptation has actually tought me a lot of stuff about both the book and the real world.

If you haven't seen his Dune essays, you can find a collection towards the bottom of this page: https://history.princeton.edu/people/haris-durrani

https://acoup.blog/2020/01/17/collections-the-fremen-mirage-part-i-war-at-the-dawn-of-civilization < This blog post isn't specifically about Dune, but it uses the Fremen as an example to discuss the historic origins of the noble savage trope (Acoup is generally a cool history blog, mostly focused on greek and roman history)

I love Dune but it's so problematic, just not for the obvious reason and dissected Frank Herbert's actual politics and the strange intersection of conservatism and anti-colonialism is fascinating. You should criticise Dune, I would just like the criticism to be better, especially because focusing on the thing that is framed as bad in the story gives every chud an easy way to dismiss criticism of the text as bad media literacy