#for me it's the gold by phoebe bridgers
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what songs do you find yourself singing in the shower, while cooking, on a walk... without really meaning to? they're just possessing you for some reason?
#songs i sing to myself#songs#music#for me it's the gold by phoebe bridgers#and some others come back too#i just cant think of them rn
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pogrog in the olympic village 2021 do you want to talk about it
#literally a week after tadej wins his second tour and primoz crashes out of his... finally on the same team for once and they both medal#maybe able to explore some suppressed curiosities under the haze of olympic gold and tdf win fueled bliss and alcohol....#what they Could Have Been if they weren't star crossed or whatever idk#kyoto by phoebe bridgers anyone? i'm gonna kill you / if you don't beat me to it / dreaming of tokyo skies#off to getty images i guess đ¤đ¤#tadej pogacar#primoz roglic#pogrog
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just listen to me for oneeeee second
the gold is SOOO tragic wolfstar PLEASEEEEE
specifically Forget the World by amberlink but yk fit it to whatever you think
âI believed you were crazy, you believed that you loved meâ remus to sirius literally the whole time when he starts loving him even though they know heâs dying UGHHHHHH
âloose your faith in meâ remus to sirius AGAIN cause he knows heâll die and it will ruin him
âI donât wanna bark here anymore, the black hills, the colly, it wasnât really dangerous for us, we just catch you coughingâ sirius to remus (or remus to sirius) when they talk about moving out of the city cause they know itâs not good for them and all they want is so live on a little bit of farm with their dog n cat and be gay together
i have so many more examples literally every SINGLE line of this song i cry to it like twice a week at least thinking abt it
#marauders#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#forget the world#amberlink#the gold#phoebe bridgers#screaming crying let me out#Spotify
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you donât have to hold me anymore
#vibe with me#the gold#phoebe bridgers version#manchester orchestra#phoebe bridgers#relaxing music#soothing music#calming music#sleep music#2023#Spotify
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GRAMMAR BEING MEANINGFUL IS MY FAVORITE FUCKING THING EVER. GIVE IT TO ME. YES.
"my dearest angelica," vs "my dearest, angelica,"
"i couldn't really love you any more" vs "i don't think i love you anymore"
"i was scared indigo, but i wanted to" vs "i was scared, indigo, but i wanted to"
#last one stolen from a tiktok credit to manifestink#in order it is take a break from hamilton#then the gold by phoebe bridgers#then anything by adrienne lenker#pls share more examples this phenomenon makes me scream#rey writes
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"I believed you were crazy You believed you love me You and me, we're a day drink So lose your faith in me Lose your faith in me Oh, lose your faith in me"
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I DON'T THINK I LOVE YOU ANYMORE
That gold mine changed you
YOU DON'T HAVE TO HOLD ME ANYMORE
Our cave's collapsing
#God phoebe Bridgers really got me in the feels today#Loosing trust in someone who you trusted wholeheartedly#It just gives way for phoebe Bridgers to come and destroy you#/pos#phoebe bridgers#The gold - phoebe Bridgers version
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Couldn't really love you any more
You've become my ceiling
I don't think I love you anymore
That gold mine changed you
You don't have to hold me anymore
Our cave's collapsing
I don't wanna be me anymore
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god crushes suck wish someone would take me out back and put me out of my misery
#this girl has me feeling like a taylor swift song but i am getting NO signals from her#invited her to out to a bar with me and a couple friends last night. one guy said he thinks she's just being friendly to me.#another friend (who's actually kinda dated her?) says she's definitely more into me than she was into them. but also says she's hard to rea#i have too much anxiety for this#certified protectcosette original#started last night feeling like I Think He Knows and Enchanted and I Can See You and now it's morning and I'm feeling more gold rush#and a little bit killer and waiting room by phoebe bridgers#is this intuition or just anxiety and a disorganized attachment style
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Manchester Orchestra - The Gold (Phoebe Bridgers Version)
I don't wanna bark here anymore The black hills, the colly Wasn't really dangerous for us We'd just catch you coughing What the hell are we gonna do? A black mile to the surface I don't wanna be here anymore It all tastes like poison
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iâm such a coward when it comes to music iâll listen to a few songs by someone and then swear them off for months bc it made me a little sad
#miss phoebe bridgersâŚ#first song i heard from her was her cover of the gold which was a whileeee ago but i never bothered to check her discography#fr went yeah haha this oneâs enough đđź and then i got into loz and fuckass rori had a playlist and guess who was there#so even tho all the songs there make me insane itâs more in a blorbo way and not a iâm gonna fall out and die immediately way#so i was like ok i like her i should listen to more! and then scott street came on lmao#WHICH YEAH IK. OBVS IT WAS SCOTT STREET BUT.#that is my KO song that one makes me feel like iâll fall out and die immediately#all of this is to say i have not looked through her discography ever since and now i only listen to her when itâs a rec đ#why bring this up at all tals? saw a tiktok with it#tally txt
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that gold mine changed you | s.r.
in which Spencer won't open up to you following his release from prison and you've reached your breaking point
margovember
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warning: post prison/prison arc, lack of communication, chemist!reader, slightly proofread word count: 2.13k a/n: love this song. both the original and the phoebe bridgers cover.
i donât wanna be here anymore; it all tastes like poison
You rifled through the dish that you kept on the entryway console, looking for your car keys so that you could get out. It was hard to describe the way you felt like a spinning top, not dizzy but out of control. Everything felt so out of control.
How could you let it get this bad? You breathed heavily as you fished your keys from the pottery and looped your finger through the key ring. Wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, your eyes caught onto some movement in your periphery.
âYouâre leaving?â Spencer asked from down the hallway; his work clothes were rumpled and creased like heâd fallen asleep in them.
You had hoped that he would have the ability to ease himself back into society after three months of prison, and you always took the time to assure him that you would be there for him. Desperately, you tried to be a pillar of support, but you had reached your breaking point.
Heâd been given six weeks to readjust. When that didnât seem to be working, you thought maybe he needed to find his rhythm again, but going back to work at the BAU didnât seem to help him either. It wasnât until his first sabbatical hit that you finally considered the fact that things would never be the same between the two of you again.
When you didnât answer, Spencer put his foot out but hesitated to take a step toward you. âAre you going to come back?â
Swallowing thickly, you looked down at the keys in your hand, âI donât know.â You eyed the key to your lab, the one place you could always go to escape when you needed to, but you never imagined needing to escape from Spencer.
You werenât even sure he had been sleeping in the same bed as you, and if he was, he was getting in after you and getting up before you. There was once a moment when you and Spencer shared every minute detail of your lives with each other, at least the parts you werenât together for, but now you wouldnât be able to tell anyone what he was teaching in his lectures, and he couldnât guess which projects you were working on.
When Spencer was in prison, you thought that was the loneliest you would ever be, but now you were living with the ghost of the man who you once loved, and you had never felt more alone.
Last week, you had practically begged him, very nearly gotten on your knees and pled with him to have a substantial conversation with you. He didnât seem interested.
you believe that you love me
Looking back up, your eyes widened at the revelation that Spencer had made his way to you in complete silence; he was standing in front of you, âYouâre sneaking out?â
Your nostrils flared in frustration; you were sneaking out of your own apartment, a space that you and Spencer were supposed to share, but it didnât feel like home anymore. âDid I do something wrong?â You asked him, studying his brown eyes as they appeared until the cool light of the moon.
He set both of his hands on your upper arms, and you pulled away from his touch. Spencer flinched back as surely as if youâd struck him. If you pulling away from him hurt, then he wouldnât be able to fathom how you were feeling right nowâhow you had been feeling for the last seven months.
âIs it because of your mom?â You tried again, silver lining your eyes as you looked up at him, mercurial tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for an answer. âI was at work when she was abducted,â you reminded him, having thrown yourself into work while Spencer was in prison. âIs it because I didnât help her?â
Spencerâs lips parted in surprise, âI didnât know you blamed yourself for that.â His arms hung limply by his sides, fists clenching and unclenching in an attempt to release nervous energy.
Blinking tears from your eyes, your shoulders slouched at what felt like a rejection, âHow would you? You donât talk to me,â you told him, your tone wholly accusatory.
âWe talk every day,â he rebutted, the energy in your conversation veering toward hostility. Thatâs not what you wanted; you just wanted to feel at peace.
Three months in prison, six weeks of mandatory leave, one hundred days with the team, twenty days into his first sabbatical, and Spencer was refusing to face what you had already run into headfirst. âWe havenât had a real conversation since February, Spencer. Itâs September.â
His eyebrows pinched together as he studied your body language, profiling you to deduce what you wanted from him instead of just asking you. âWhat do you mean âa real conversation?ââ
You pressed your lips together in a thin line, and you searched every part of your brain for something to say that wouldnât contribute to taking your life apart brick by brick. You couldnât. The words simply werenât there anymore. Maybe you had left them behind months ago, but right now, you shrugged helplessly, âYouâre different, Spence.â
He peered down at you as if you had offended him, âDid you expect me to stay the same?â
It was pathetic. You felt pathetic. Staying in your entryway and begging for someone who previously kissed the ground you walked on for a reason to stay. You never had to ask him before. âIâve never expected anything but love from you, and you know that,â you told him, pulling the truth from the depths of your soul and putting it on display for him.
Spencer took a step back, stumbling as if his legs were threatening to give out beneath him. âYou donât think I love you anymore?â His own tears welled in his eyes, glittering saline along his lash line that made your chest ache.
You blinked, letting more tears fall down your cheeks. You heard the droplets as they fell on the vinyl decal of your sweatshirt, the only noise in the midst of an otherwise deathly silence. âYou have given me no reason to believe that you do,â you admitted, your voice tight with emotion.
so, lose your faith in me
âDonât leave,â he gasped, struggling through his tears. He held a hand out to you, too hesitant to touch you because of the way you reacted earlier.
You felt like you were tearing your own heart from your chest. You held the organ in your hands, blood dripping to the floor and seeping within the woodgrain, and you asked him to put it back where it belonged. âI canât do this anymore,â you told him.
He set a hand on the side of your neck, and this time, you didnât pull away from him. Instead, you savored his touch, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin as the two of you waited for something to give. Three months in prison had been a test of your relationship; you had very little contact with each other. Nothing face-to-face, and after a while, Spencerâs mail started to go missingâinterference by a prison guard who had it out for him. You thought that getting him back would fix everything.
Spencer was exactly the same, but somehow, he was completely different after his release. You couldnât fault him for what he had gone through in prison, but you refused to continue your pattern of dancing around each other.
âI love you,â he whispered, his voice so faint that you wouldâve missed it had you not been searching for it. His breaths were quickening, and if it werenât so dark, youâd be sure that his pupils were dilated in fear.
You pursed your lips, âSay it again.â You wanted to hear him. You needed to hear him. You so desperately wanted to hear him repeat himself so that you could throw your arms around him and let him know that everything was perfectly fine.
He panted, âI love you,â he echoed. âPlease,â his voice broke, âI love you so much.â
âI want to believe you,â you breathed, looking back down at the keys that remained in your hand. As far as you were concerned, Spencer was the Patron Saint of Liars. He had the intelligence and the experience to become a master manipulator. Heâd lied to you before. What was stopping him from doing it again? He knew that I love you was what you wanted to hear. When faced with telling a lie and losing you, the choice was laid out in front of him.
He nodded as if he understood, but you werenât convinced that he possessed the bandwidth to fully comprehend why you were so unhappy. âIâm sorry for lying to you,â he whispered.
You lost your balance, your back slammed against the wall, and your eyes widened as a result of his apology, âWhy?â
Spencerâs brown eyes widened as you slid down the wall, waiting until you were sat on the floor to speak again, âIâm sorry I didnât tell you about Mexico.â
âYou couldâve told me,â you told him, âI couldâve helped you, Spencer. Then we could⌠Then maybeâŚâ your voice trailed off, lost in a sea of hiccuping sobs.
Gingerly, Spencer lowered himself to the ground and took a seat next to you, âMaybe I wouldnât have gone to jail. Youâre right,â he admitted, âbut maybe they wouldâve killed you too. Maybe there would have been the same outcome as the one we got, or maybe it would have been much worse.â
Releasing a shuddering breath, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. âLorenz,â you murmured, closing your eyes to relieve some of the burning.
âThe Butterfly Effect,â Spencer commented, âSmall changes can have large consequences. I made a decision that had massive ramifications and negatively impacted you, and I havenât been doing enough to fix it.â
You sighed, âYou canât fix it, Spence. Itâs like a band-aid over a bullet hole.â You thumbed the hem of your sweatpants, opening your eyes just to stare straight ahead at the wall.
He hummed in what you sincerely hoped was understanding, âI took six years of building trust with you and destroyed it, and now when I tell you I love you, you donât believe me.â
âYou told me you were going to Houston,â you whispered.
âI told everyone I was going to Houston,â he said softly.
Your head snapped in his direction, âI deserved more than what everyone else got. I deserved an explanation, and instead, you lied to me. You lied to me, and then you wouldnât even let me see you while you were in prison.â
The corners of his mouth downturned, âI didnât want you to see me in there, and I didnât want anyone else to see you in there.â Youâd heard second hand from JJ that the men at Millburn had ogled her the entire time she was visiting Spencer, and maybe he had explained himself in one of the missing letters, but he hadnât mentioned it since coming home.
âSpencer, I just want to talk with you,â you whispered. âI want to have a conversation with my boyfriend that doesnât end with him creating some arbitrary mental block because he doesnât think I can handle it.â
There was a moment where you thought he was just going to let you go, but Spencer Reid liked to keep the things he cared about close. âItâs not because you canât handle it, itâs because I canât handle it,â he admitted.
You turned your body to face him, âWhat do you mean?â
âI donât want to tell you about prison,â he clarified. âI barely want to tell my therapist about prison, but youââ his voice broke, and your heart went with it. âIf I tell you everything Iâve done, you wouldnât want to be with me anyway.â
You frowned, âTry me.â Your heart was racing; this bit here was decisive. His response would either mean letting go or moving forward.
He looked down at his lap, âCome to therapy with me tomorrow. Itâs⌠thereâs something about the leather couch that turns me into an open book.â He told you, nervously running his palms up and down his cloth-covered thighs. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed his hands, putting a stop to his compulsive movements. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, âPlease donât leave.â
Shaking your head, you sniffled through your tears. If youâd had more energy, maybe you wouldâve given him a soft smile, but for now, you answered him, âI wonât.â
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot
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mine is funeral by phoebe bridgers or this is me trying by taylor swift OR fine line by harry styles ORRR broken bells by gvf đ¤
weâre having an emo girl night in caravel nation tonight. everybody drop the song that makes you cry on cue, mine is bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift or moon song by phoebe bridgers
#taylor swift#this is me trying#phoebe bridgers#i am mentally ill#harry styles#fine line#gvf#broken bells#i loveeee sad music#đ¤đ¤đ¤#eras tour#dreams in gold#hslot
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Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: Silly fact: Our 100,000th word is "fucking". Quite apt, in my humble opinion. Enjoy! Chapter Title is from Ghost in the Machine by SZA (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)
Word Count: 19.6k
Chapter Summary/Warnings: Nine Days. Usual warnings
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, much angst, light smut, pining
Read on A03!
Chapter 9 - Chapter 11
Benâs life had never lacked in beauty. Starting in a childhood marked by well-kept gardens and polished floors that held shiny, uptight parties, before moving to pretty girls in his youth, falling for the tricks and charms heâd learned to wield like weapons to keep their beauty near him. Eventually pretty girls changed to beautiful women, women who knew his tricks but didnât care as long as they got what they wanted. Soldier Boy. After that, charisma, wit, and flirtation became secondary, for Soldier Boy was the weapon and there was no longer need for clever formalities to keep beauty in his life. Every beautiful thing was his, all he had to do was be Soldier Boy. Ben himself was secondary, because nobody gave a shit about Ben. It was Soldier Boy that was given beauty, and so Soldier Boy draped his life in flowers, art, women, and everything else that dared to glitter like gold.
All that beauty, from crystal to silk to marble, seemed to be pale and faded in comparison to Her. It was fucking frightening, how it suddenly became so clear that everything, every fucking thing, wasnât even competing. Ben had climbed down the stairs as sheâd snarked about his long showers, responded with his own mocking words, and then completely fucking forgotten how to breathe. Sheâd turn aroundâgiving Ben a taunt he didnât hearâand suddenly everything was just Her. Perfect, still perfect, always perfect, in a way that felt solid. Permanent and beautiful in a way that shouldnât be earned, couldnât be earned. That knowing didnât stop the Thing, though. From needing to earn it. It had become impossible to keep The Things restrained, because Ben had no will to restrain it. It had told him to touch Her and hold her, so he had and refused to let go. Even when heâd gotten drugsâan opportunity that had become far too fucking rare to turn downâheâd kept some part of him against Her. When Starlight had asked Her to dance, Ben had told her to go, half because he was pretty sure Starlight mightâve started crying like a damn baby if She hadnât, and half because fuck the Thing wanted to see Her dance. See Her with that loose happiness heâd imagined she had before Homelander.
He hadnât been disappointed. Sheâd vanished into the smoke and light with Starlight for just long enough that Ben had almost stood to follow themâthe Thing itching to know where She was, if she was safeâonly to reappear just before heâd been about to rise from the booth. Dancing, with stupid, joyful fucking smiles and moving with the music in a way that made the Thing feral.
Ben didnât notice the sickeningly sweet woman whoâd given him the boob-drugs slide into the booth until she was right at his side.
âWhereâd your pretty little bitch go, handsome?â Boob-drugsâ voice had been a low, seductive whisper in Benâs ear, and the Thing had felt bloody at the honey-like venom of her words, the way they drawled and choked the air around him.
Ben should have given Boob-drugs want she wanted. It had been far too long since Ben had gotten his dick wet, since heâd properly fucked something that wasnât his hand or those stupid fucking âfleshlightsâ Sheâd gotten him. Sheâd joked once about him destroying them in a matter of minutes, and Ben had decided only a few weeks later that She never needed to know how correct Sheâd been. Ben shouldâve leaned into Boob-drugs, touched her like the fucking man he was, flirted with her until he was deep in her cunt on a bathroom counter. But when Boob-drugs had traced fingers up his arm and offered him sultry words, the only feeling he got was something cold crawling across his skin. The Thing not only didnât feel satiated, but had curled up in revolt. It felt disgusting, and Ben couldnât even fully focus on the coke as the woman had tried to pull his strings.
At some point heâd lost Her on the dance floor, and any stupid semblance of goddamn manners or entertaining Boob-drugs had been thrown out the window. Heâd stood and walked away as Boob-Drugs was mid-sentence, and didnât bother to look back. Ben had searched for Her for long, painful minutes, and finally spotted her as she moved through the crowd, a lost look on her face.
They needed to leave, Ben had decided, because the happiness had drained from Her face and the fatigued emptiness was beginning to creep back in. The moment heâd pulled Her into the night airâwind moving her hair and streetlights making her glowâexhaustion had begun to cloud her eyes quickly, and Ben had smiled to himself as She passed out at his side. She had held herself to him tightly in her sleep, from the car, to the house, and well into the night. At one point Sheâd started thrashing in the bed and Ben had almost woken her upâunsure if it was a nightmare or simply restlessnessâbut no fire had leaked from Her body, and no sounds of pain had left her mouth, so heâd pulled Her into him and fallen asleep with Her curled at his side.
When Sheâd left the bed in the morning, heâd found it impossible to fall asleep again. The Thing had grown cold, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat down the stairs, hear it stutter before it began to push to rapid pace. Heâd followed it down to living room, almost thankful for the fucking excuse. Heâd watched the smoke rising from Her body, heard the fucking hollowness in her voice as she spoke, and seen red. Then Sheâd broken in front of him one more goddamn time, fallen asleep with her head to his chest, andâthough it was hardly afternoonâlaid them down on Her bed and slept at her side.
She was awake when his eyes opened. Watching him in silence, lying on her side, heartbeat even and soft.
âHi.â She whispered, and a small smile played on her mouth.
âHi.â Benâs voice was a rough croak, and Her smile grew. âWhat fucking-â
â5pm.â
He frowned. âWe slept the whole goddamn day?â
She tensed, looking away from him. âMost of it, yeah.â The gnawing of her lip began. âIâm-â
âIf you say âIâm sorryâ, Iâll fucking kill you.â
 âI wasnât going to.â She mumbled, and Ben rolled his eyes. âI wasnât.â
âSure, and Iâm the fucking President.â
 She glared at him. âI was going to say that Iâm hungry.â
âThen go eat,â Ben shrugged, even as the Thing began to protest at the thought of Her leaving. âYou donât need to fucking wait for me to do that.âÂ
âItâs my turn to heat dinner.â She rolled onto her back, facing the ceiling with a huff. âI need to know what you want.â
Ben laughed. âI donât give a shit, Sunshine. Food is food.â
 âYou say that now,â She turned her head to look at him, a incredibly fucking dramatic look on Her face. âBut I wouldâve made the one thing you didnât want and youâd have thrown a hissy fit.âÂ
âI donât throw âhissy fitsâ.â
âFine, temper tantrum.â
âShut the fuck up,â he grunted, hauling himself to a sitting position. âI donât throw hissy fits or temper tantrums or any other pussy shit.â
She laughed. âYouâre literally doing it right now.â
When Ben only grunted, she giggled again, a smug and weightless sound that made the Thing so fucking pleased. He looked down at Her in fake anger, and found that she was still flat on her back, watching him with a teasing smile and pretty eyes. The Thing wanted to pull Her into his side, to make sure that she stayed light and amused and thoughtlessly relaxed forever.
âSomeoneâs grumpy.â Her smile was toothy and wide, and the Thing wanted to touch Her lips. âWas nap time too short?â
He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to stand from the bed. âGo fucking eat, brat.â
âWhat do you want?â She called as he moved to Her bathroom. âIâll make you oatmeal, Ben, I swear to God-â
Ben turned right before the door. âFucking hell, bagels. Make bagels.â
âYou had a bagel two days ago.â
âItâs a free country, Sunshine, Iâm allowed to eat a bagel for multiple fucking days.â Ben glared at Her. âAnd you ate that bagel.â
âYou left it out.â
âIt was my fucking bagel.â
âJesus, fine, weâll have bagels.â She rolled her eyes, sitting up on the bed and muttering under her breath. âFucking man baby.â
âYou know I fucking heard that.â Ben snapped, she stuck her tongue out at him, and the Thing pushed at his stomach.
He closed the door before She could retaliate, listening to her shuffle around the room for several minutesâdoing what he had no fucking clueâbefore her heartbeat faded down the stairs.
Ben had never actually used Her bathroom before. Heâd always walked down the hall to his, never needing to piss or shit so bad he couldnât just fucking hold it. Any time he did leave Her room for his own, it was to fuck his hand behind a locked door, to indulge fantasies of Her in the very room heâd just left. Ben hadnât even fully thought about what he was doing when heâd walked into Her bathroom, it had felt like the most goddamn normal thing in the world. Now, flushing the toilet and looking around, Ben hated how fucking satiated the Thing felt. Surrounded by Her in tiny and stupid ways, seeing little damn pieces of her everywhere. The shampoo that he always smelled on Her, the discarded towel on the floor, the half-empty hand soap placed beside her toothbrush, drying on the counter. A toothbrush he was fucking jealous of for being in her mouth, like a fucking creeping pussy whoâd never touched a woman.
When Ben exited the bathroomâfully intending to follow Her to the kitchenâhe did quick sweep of the room, saw Her outfit from the night before hanging out of the hamper, and realized sheâd been fucking changing. With him only a door away. The Thing rumbled with images of Her peeling off her clothes, moving smoothly through the room in nothing but her underwear, maybe even pulling those off tooâ
Ben made a detour to his room, finding relief in a fantasy of Her at his side, laying on her back with that perfect smile, and him climbing on top of her and fucking her until she was numb with pleasure. Or pulling Her onto his lap and letting her grind on him until she orgasmed with her head against his chest. Or Her rolling down, taking him in her mouth and him shooting down her throat-
He came, with a jerk of his hips, a low grunt, and imagined sounds of Her moaning in his ear.
Once heâd cleaned upâhe had to find a less fucking time consuming way to do thisâBen descended the stairs and found Her at the bookshelf, pushing through its contents with a focus, narrowed intent.
âWhat the fuck are you-â
âThereâs no fucking cookbooks in the goddamn house!â Her voice was frustrated, glaring at the books with a scowl Ben had only seen directed at himself or Butcher. âFucking CIA didnât think we might want just one, one cookbook? They gave us a printed copy of the constitution, but not one fucking cookbook?â
âWhy the hell would you want a cookbook?â He watched her pull another two books from the shelves, making an annoyed huff before throwing them onto the floor. âYou canât cook.â
âI know that!â She snapped. âYou think I donât fucking know that?â
âThen why are you being so goddamn dramatic-â
 Ben was cut off by a copy of Shakespeareâs Complete Works flying at his face.
Her attention had already returned to the bookshelf by the time Ben was rubbing the fading red mark, her movements frantic. âI want to learn, ok? I need to learn to cook just one, shitty ass meal.â
âFucking why?â He watched Her with vague amusement. âDid you hit your head last night?â
A pout formed on Her lips, and the Thing wanted to suck on them.
âI thought youâd be fucking pleased, Benjamin, that Iâm finally conforming to whatâs expected of my gender.â She grumbled, and Ben snorted.
âYou are not a hallmark of your gender, Sunshine.â This time, Ben managed to dodge The Great American Song Book, but not Atlas Shrugged.
âFuck you,â She snapped. âGo fucking eat your bagel, you cunt.â
He raised his brows at Her. âYou made the bagel?â
âOf course I did, dumbass,â She grumbled, not sparing Ben a glance. âItâs in the kitchen, you can eat it or just shove it up your ass for all I care.â
Ben snorted, but wandered into the kitchen to find that She had indeed left a bagel on the counter, even fucking spread it with that damn strawberry cream cheese and placed a handful of napkins beneath the plate.
âI didnât ask you to use that pink shit.â Ben mumbled, mouth full as he returned to the living room, standing in the doorway. âAnd five napkins is fucking overkill.â
Though Her back was turned from him, Ben could fucking feel her eye roll.
âYou love that pink shit, you ass. And a thank you would be nice.â
âAnd the napkins?â
âYouâre getting crumbs literally everywhere at this very second. Five was a generous lowball.â
Ben scoffed, ignoring the tiny pieces of bagel he could feel in his beard. âFuck off, youâre not even looking at me.â
âDonât have to, I can hear your loud-ass chewing.â She threw another book to the growing pile on the floor, hands finding her hips as she huffed at the near-empty shelf. âIs there a bookshelf in your room?â
âI donât fucking know.â Ben wasnât even in his room enough to have any idea, and when he was, books were the least of his concerns.
âCan I check?â
âWhy are you fucking killing yourself about this?â He watched Her overly tense back rise and fall in short breaths. âI was kidding about you hitting your damn head, but youâre being fucking weird.â
âNo Iâm not,â She mumbled, turning with a frown on her face. âAnd whatâs fucking weird is you not jumping for joy that weâre not going eat bagels or mac and cheese for the rest of our damn lives.â
He gave Her a mocking smile. âWell, if youâre doing it for me, Sunshine, then by all means-â
Ben caught Les MisĂŠrables right before it hit his throat.
âCan you just,â She sighed, watching Ben with a sadness in her eyes he didnât understand. âCan you please not be a dick about this.â
Ben nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Her as she let out a heavy breath. âYouâd tell me if something was wrong,â he said Her name firmly. âIf I needed to be ready for some shit.â
âYeah,â She gave him a small smile that didnât reach her eyes. âI would.â
âGood,â Ben grunted, even as the Thing wanted to pull Her right into his chest. Even as he didnât fully believe her. âThereâs a cookbook on the top shelf.â
She blinked. âWhat, no thereâs not. I checked-â
âNot well,â he said with a smirk. âI can fucking see it from here.â
âIf youâre lying just to be an ass, Iâm going to kill you, Pretty Boy.â She grumbled as she turned, and Ben waited while she scanned the highest shelf, chuckling to himself when she let out an infuriated sound that meant sheâd found it.
âTold you,â Ben grinned widely as She pulled it down, turning back to face him with a sour face.
She flipped him off with one hand, holding the book with the other. âCunt.â
âBrat.â
She wrinkled her nose, flipping through the pages with an adorable intensity. Ben just watched Her, the Thing pulling against him as her face lit up with a full smile.
âFound it!â She looked up at Ben, smile growing, and the Thing whined.
Ben tried to push it down, down, down and away from his chest, refusing to be a pussy who allowed his emotions to be controlled by the smile of one fucking woman.
One fucking perfect woman, the Thing reminded him, and a warmth spread through him against his fucking will.
âCongratulations,â he said dryly. âAll by yourself too.â
âAll by yourself-â
Ben gave her a flat look. âAll by yourself as well.â
She rolled her eyes, pushing past him to walk down the hall. Ben trailed after Her like a fucking puppy. âWhat are you doing?â He called ahead, and she didnât break pace for a second as she responded.
âWeâre cooking dinner, dumbass.â
âWe?â
âWe.â They stopped in the kitchen, and she threw Ben another insufferably perfect smile. âI did not just destroy the living room to eat a bagel. Weâre doing this tonight.â
Ben glared at her. âYou keep fucking saying we-â
âFine, Pretty Boy. Iâm cooking dinner and youâre standing in the kitchen in case I need to yell at someone.â
âHm,â he grunted. âI want another bagel.â
She gave a small laugh. âDeal.â
They shook on itâThe Thing rolling around inside Ben as their hands touchedâand She set to work.
Ben had seen a lot of car crashes. Watched a lot of bombs explode and a lot of people die.
While this was worse in quite a few ways, it was also a lot fucking funnier.
âWhat the fuck does âveggies are tenderâ mean?â She snapped. âHow can a vegetable be tender.â
âMaybe you need to arouse it,â Ben shrugged, taking a large bite of his second bagel. âI can do that for you.â
âYouâre a gentleman,â She muttered, and he grinned, shooting her a wink.
âAre you doubting my abilities, Sunshine?â
She scoffed, but the Thing rumbled as her heart stuttered. âTo make vegetables horny? Yeah, I think I am.â She narrowed her eyes at the book. âHow âthinâ is thinly sliced?â
âHow the fuck would I know?â
âDidnât think you would, dumbass, I was thinking out loud.â She stuck her tongue out at him. âAnd I think they just mean like, small?â
She looked up at Ben for confirmationâdespite Her calling him a dumbass less than five seconds agoâand the Thing started trying to roll around in his chest. âI donât give a shit.â
âHelpful,â She snapped, dumping out a bag full of bell-peppers onto the counter, and he grinned.
Ben shoved the remainder of his bagel in his mouth, watching Her cut up the peppersâand then the onionsâas if she was torturing them for information. Little bits and pieces were flying everywhere, he was almost fucking positive she cut herself at least twice, and he could hear Her mumbling threats to the onions about Her making them cry instead.
He snorted as She threw the vegetables into the pot, flipping them off as she turned on the stove. âHow long do I have to wait for you to just give the fuck up?âÂ
âForever,â She snapped. âNeither of us are going anywhere until these vegetables are tender as fuck.â
âI donât know why youâre even doing this vegetable shit, youâre immortal now, you donât need to be healthy-â
Ben managed, but only fucking barely, to dodge the knife as it flew at his face.
âShut up.â She snapped. âOr I wonât give you any when Iâm done.â
âPromise?â He mocked, and she picked up a second knife. âJesus fucking Christ, fine. What are you even making?â He grunted, reaching to grab the cookbook.
She snatched it back and far from his hand. âItâs a surprise.â
âA fucking surprise?â He snorted. âWhy?â
âBecause.â She held the cookbook with white knuckles, and Ben rolled his eyes.
âShitty ass surprise,â he grumbled, and She gave him one last glare before turning her anger down to the steak defrosting on the counter.
Over the next half hour, She managed to cut up the steak through a process of vulgar threats, curses, and throwing three more knives at Benâonly two of which he deserved. Once sheâd shoved the steak into the ovenâBen had helpfully suggested She just use her own fucking fire and Sheâd asked if he had any interest in the house burning downâshe picked up the pot of vegetables and walked over to where Ben sat at the counter.
âTender?â She extended the pot for him to look at, frowning at its contents.
The vegetables were soft, and a little brown. Ben had no fucking clue what that meant in terms of âtenderâ.
âFucking sure,â he watched the crease on Her forehead deepen, and the Thing wanted to kiss right over it until it vanished.
She looked up at him, lips pulling down, but nodded and dumped the vegetables into a bowl. After giving them one last glare, She dropped into the seat next to Ben with a heavy sigh. âThe steak wonât be ready for ten minutes,â she mumbled, fingers tapping on the counter.
Ben shrugged, trying to control the Thing rumbling comfortably in his chest at Her arm brushing his. âAre you going to tell me what the fuck is wrong now?â
âNothingâs wrong,â She muttered, and the tapping picked up.
âYouâre lying. It might not be something I need to prepare for, both something is fucking up with you.â He watched Her scowl at nothing. âIs it your sister?â
The tapping picked up. âI donât want to talk about that.â
He said Her name firmly. âYou need to fucking tell her youâre alive.â
âNo, I donât.â
âYes, you-â
âJust fucking drop it, Ben, ok?!â She snapped. âYouâre not going to change my mind, so just fucking drop it.â She took a deep breath, and the Thing clenched in Benâs chest. âPlease, just let it go.â
He grunted, the Thing flipping as She looked up at him. âFine.â
She nodded, relief crossing her face as the tapping slowed. âThank you.â She paused, eyes searching his face. âDo you want me to do more of the PTSD treatment tonight?â
âTomorrow,â he said, not having missed the bags under Her eyes and poorly hidden yawns. âYou need to rest.â
She frowned. âIâve literally been resting all day.â
âYou were tossing and turning all of last night, Sunshine.â He said flatly, and She blinked at him, heart picking up.
âWhat, what are you talking about-â
âItâs not a big fucking deal,â Ben frowned at Her wide-eyed expression. âYou were just rolling around a shit ton. Didnât seem very restful.â
âOh,â she mumbled. âSorry.â
âI didnât fucking need to leave the bed, Sunshine, I donât give a shit.â He shrugged.
She tilted her head at him. âWould you have?â
âWhat?â
âIf it had bothered you, would you have gone to sleep in your room?â She examined his face, and Ben could hear the chewing of her lips.
âWhy the fuck does that matter?â
âWell, um, I just donât remember the last time you actually slept in your own bed.â She said sheepishly, suddenly avoiding his gaze. âIf you want to, you donât have to stay in my room all the time-â
âDo you want me to go back to my room?â Ben asked, and his voice was harsher than he intended. The Thing was scraping at him, gripping at his throat a the very fucking idea of Her not wanting him, of Her sending him to be without her-
âNo!â Her voice was panicked, and Ben blinked in surprise. âI donât want you to go back, but if you want to-â
âI donât,â Ben grunted, the Thing breathing in relief as he tried to sound like less of a desperate pussy. âI mean, Iâm fucking fine staying there.â
âOkay.â She gave him a small smile, and the Thing felt light, even as she stood from her seat. âSteak,â She said, and Ben realized heâd started to frown as She moved.
âWhatever,â he grunted, and watched Her move through the kitchen. She threw together whatever shit she was trying to make, finally stood straightâa smug look on Her faceâand turned with a mess of cheese, meat, and bread on a plate.
âI did it,â She was beaming at him, holding the âfoodâ proudly, and any comments about how Ben was pretty fucking sure Sheâd just made a bioweapon died in his throat as the Thing tried to escape him.
âCongratulations.â He huffed, and glanced at the sludge in her hands. âWhat the fuck is it.â
âCheesesteak.â
Ben frowned. âCheesesteak?âÂ
She picked up the cookbook, dropping it in front of him as she sat back at his side. âPhilly Cheesesteak, with peppers and onions.â She read aloud, pointing to the page with a grin. âMedium difficulty.â
The Thing was pounding at him, and Ben couldnât stop himself from asking. âPhilly Cheesesteak because?â At the flush of Her face, he pushed further. âWhy Philly Cheesesteak, Sunshine? Any particular reason?â
âShut up,â She muttered.
âHm,â Ben teased, his own smile growing. âDoes it have something to do with me-â
âYes, you cunt. Itâs because youâre from Philly.â She snapped, not looking at him. âDonât be a fucking dick about it, I just wanted to make something I thought youâd like.â
âYou only made one serving,â Ben pointed out as the Thing started roaring with a painful need to hold her. âAnd I already ate.â
âOh, fuck off. We both know this is going to taste like shit.â She wrinkled her nose at the plate. âIâm going to make it for you when I can actually make it somewhat good.â She paused, heart faltering slightly. âIf you want me to.â
Ben shrugged, and the Thing roared. âFood is fucking food. Iâll never say no to a pretty lady making me some.â
She hummed, and her heart picked up a little faster than it had been before. âOkay.â
âOkay,â he looked between Her and the plate. âNow eat that so we can go the fuck to bed.â
She wrinkled her nose at him, but began to eat in small bites. âItâs not terrible.â She said through a mouthful. âIâve eaten worse.â
Ben grunted, watching Her chew and swallow. âAre you going to shower?â
âHuh?â
âBefore bed,â he said, ignoring the way She licked her lips clean of food and how it made his gut warm.
âAre you saying I smell bad, Benjamin?â She teased, face all comfortable and happy. âThatâs not very nice.â
He glared at Her. âI fucking want to shower, brat. And since you always whine about how long I take, I wanted to know if you need hot water.â
âOh,â She blinked at him. âThatâs, thatâs really sweet.â
âShut up,â Ben muttered. The Thing was powerful and uncontrollable in him at Her words, like a fucking pussy. He wasnât fucking sweet, She just always got all pouty when the water was cold and it made him fucking frustrated. She would sulk around and be fucking grumpy and it made the Thing tight in his lungs, made him feel an edge he hated. She still hadnât even fucking answered his question, so Ben poked her shoulder and she looked up at him with a full mouth. âWell?â
She swallowed roughly. âOh, uh, yeah I think I am.â She frowned, and Ben could hear Her thoughts turning in Her head.
âSpit it out.â He prompted.
âWhat?â
âYou look like you have a stupid question, and youâre going to fucking explode if you donât ask it.â
âI wonât explode-â
Ben said Her name flatly. âYeah, you will. So spit it out.â
She sighed. âYou have to promise not to-â
âI know the damn drill, Sunshine. I promise not to mention it again if the answer is no. Now stop being a fucking pussy and ask the question.â
âIf you want, and you donât have to-â She took a deep breath, and the words began to fall out of Her. âIâd be okay with it if you moved your clothes into my room. Or like some clothes. Whatever you want. I just think it might be easier, if you think you want to stay there. And I do want you, I mean I like you there, so, if you want, you can move your stuff into my room.â
Ben stared at Her, watching him with a nervous expression, heart pounding in Her chest. The Thing was rioting inside him. She wanted him in her room, in her space. She wanted him there, wanted things to be easier for him. For him to stay with her. She liked him there. With her. Ben cleared his throat, and spoke before he could even really think.
âYeah.â
âYeah?â She said cautiously. âDoes yeah mean, like, yeah I donât want, or yeah I do want to, or yeah Iâll think about it-â
âIâll do it,â Ben said, trying to sound as casual as he fucking could with the Thing trying to tell him to pick Her up and place her on the counter and make all that stupid fucking doubt leave her face because what the hell was it even there for in the first place-
âOkay.â She took another bite of Her food. âThen maybe you can shower now and move your stuff when Iâm showering?â
âSure,â Ben stood, and She turned her attention fully to her plate. There was a little thing of melted cheese on her lip, and he wanted to brush it off with his thumb.
âDonât take a year.â She said, and Ben swallowed as her tongue swept out to pull the cheese into her mouth.
He coughed, forcing himself to move away from the counter. âFuck off,â he muttered, and picked up his pace out of the kitchen as She giggled behind him.
It was a race against his own fucking self-control to get to the shower and take care of himself before the Thing made him turn around and prove to Her that there was no goddamn reason she shouldâve been unsure. Make Her smile and pull her tongue into his own mouth, maybe spread Her out on the counter and taste her-
Ben practically ripped his clothes off, managing to climb into the shower before the Thing consumed him.
They were back on their bed, Her lying on her back with a bright smile and Ben sitting at her side.Â
âNap time too short?â She asked again, and this time Ben didnât scoff or stand from the bed.
He smirked back down at Her, and reached out, running a thumb over her lips. âIâm wide awake, Sunshine. But I can think of a few ways to tire me out.â
Her mouth fell further open, and she let out a small sound. âLike what?â Her voice was barely a whisper, and Ben moved his hand tangle in Her hair, cupping her head as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap.
âWhatever you want, beautiful.â He watched Her eyes widen, and Ben could feel the heat of her cheeks against his hand. âI have some ideas, but Iâm open to suggestions.â
Moving his hand down, Ben traced a line from Her neck to her collarbone, dropping it all the way to her ass and lowering his head to kiss along her neck. She started to whimper, and he could feel the sounds escaping from her against his lips.
âBen,â She said breathlessly, her hands finding his hair. âYou-â She let out a loud moan, head falling back as he squeezed her with one hand, tracing patterns along her skin with his other.
âMe, what?â He said Her name into her skin. âWhat do you want me to do?â
She dropped her hands from his hair, pulling his head up to look at Her, eyes scanning his face for only a second before she was kissing him. Long and desperate, all teeth and tongue and deep groans into each other. When She pulled back for air, Ben nipped at her lower lip and raised his hand from her waist, running his thumb over its swell.
âI want you.â She whispered, her own hand holding his against her face. âCan I have you?â
Ben pulled Her back to him, kissing her deeply until her grip was tight and she was grinding down on him. When he pulled back, he answered firmly, with no room for her to doubt. âYou already fucking do.â
She nodded slowly, and suddenly she was touching him. Palming Ben through his pants, smiling perfectly at his hardness against her hand. âWhere do you want me?â She asked, a beautiful fucking taunt. âYou can take me right here, or at the wall. You can use my mouth, or my pussy, or I can just use my hand?â
He groaned Her name. âFucking hell-â
âWhat do you want me to do, Ben? Where do you want to have me?â
Ben came, shouting Her name into the steam of the shower. Only as the high faded did it finally fucking occur to him the mistake heâd just made. He had no fucking excuse to return to his room and indulge the Thing anymore, no good reason to lock himself behind a door she wouldnât enter and fuck his hand to the thought of Her.
He could back out. He could tell Her heâd changed his mind, he wanted to keep their shit separate, that keeping it together was just too fucking intimate and he didnât want her to have that part of him.
Liar, the Thing hissed into him. You want Her to have every fucking part of you. Youâre just too pussy to tell her.
No, he fucking didnât. He needed to call it the fuck off, before he did something fucking stupid or insane-
Sheâd be so sad, The Thing snapped. Youâd be fucking breaking Her.
She was a grown ass woman. Sheâd survive.
Would you?
Ben turned off the shower, jerking the handle clean off the wall. He dropped in on the tile floor, changed fast, and stomped down the hall to where Her heartbeat had movedâ fully fucking ready to tell her heâd changed his mind and would probably just sleep in his own damn room tonightâonly to open the door and find her sitting up at the headboard, already in pyjamas, eyes drooping as she read a small book.
âI thought you wanted to shower,â he said gruffly, and She just sighed, not looking up at him.
âWere you ever actually convicted of treason?â She asked. âBecause if you werenât, Iâve been calling you an enemy of the state for no reason.â
 âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â
âApparently, someone canât be held guilty for treason with two witnesses or a confession.âÂ
âThatâs not better, brat.â
She held up her book for Ben to read Constitution of the United States of America spelled out in pointlessly fucking fancy letters on the cover. âI was cleaning up downstairs, and realized Iâve never actually read the whole thing.â
âYeah, most people havenât.â Ben said wryly. âOnly fucking pussy ass nerds bother with that shit.â
âArenât you Americaâs Son?âÂ
âYeah, but Iâm a fucking man who has a life outside of books. What happened to your fucking shower?â
She shrugged. âIâm not that dirty. Iâll shower in the morning, before we do the PTSD treatment.â
Ben grunted, not moving from the door. âI still think youâre not actually doing fucking shit with that.â
âI still donât fucking care.â She finally looked up at Ben, and the Thing stared punching against him like a fucking pussy. âWhy are you just standing there, you weirdo.â
âWhat?â Ben frowned at Her question, trying to fight the Thing telling him to go drop next to her, let her lean against him. âThe fuck are you-â
âYouâve been standing at the door for like five minutes.â She said pointedly, folding the book and placing it on her bedside table. âAre you okay?â
âIâm fucking fine, Sunshine.â He grunted, and the rest of his will fucking crumbled at the goddamn soft look on Her perfect face. âI just wanted to know if I should wait for you to shower before I start moving my shit.â
âOh,â She blinked, and started to stand. âI can help you-â
âNo.â Ben cut Her off quickly. She hadnât been in his room for more than a few minutes at a time since heâd started sleeping in hers, and some part of him was convinced she would walk in a fucking smell his cum lingering. At Her frown, he gave a short, gruff explanation of âyouâre comfortable, I can fucking move clothes my damn self,â and left the room before she could respond.
It only took two trips to move all his shit, and after shoving into the drawers at Her instructions, apparently doing it wrong despite following Her every word, and Her doing it the âcorrect wayââwhich was the same way he had fucking done itâhe dropped on the mattress, sitting upright as She crawled into hers.
âNight, Pretty Boy.â She mumbled through a yawn, and her eyes dropped closed before Ben could respond.
Ben didnât remember falling asleep. Heâd watched Her breathe peacefully at his side, listened to the lazy rhythm of her heart, and when sheâd curled into his side, Ben had laid down and held Her to his chest. Almost like heâd only blinked, the room became full of light creeping through the curtains, and She was gone from the bed.
He could hear the shower running from the bathroom, her heartbeat smothered by the fall of the water. Unwilling to sit here, desperate for Her to return to his side like a fucking pussy, Ben stood and made his way to the kitchen, putting on the coffee and scowling at the pot as it took a million goddamn years to brew.
After impossibly long minutes Ben heard the water stop, and fucking cursed himself for the intensity of how he listened to Her heart upstairs. She shuffled around, the time stretching longer, and Ben felt the Thing sigh in relief as she finally began the walk down the stairs.
Ben glanced at Her as she entered the kitchen. âYouâre up.â
âFucking obviously,â she mumbled, stopping at his side. âCoffee?â
The pot gave a pathetic fucking sputter. âI think itâs broken.â Ben muttered, and there was another weak crackling sound in response.
âHm,â She reached past him, opening the top of the machine. Peering forwards, She sighed. âBen.â
âWhat?â He snapped, and She rolled her eyes, pulling the empty pot from its place and moving to the sink.
âYou didnât put any water in it, dumbass.â
Ben scowled. âI just fucking woke up, you try-â
âIâm not mad,â She said lightly, glancing over her shoulder with amusement. âIâm just saying itâs not broken, and thatâs why.â
âFuck off,â he grumbled, watching Her pour the water into the top of the coffee maker.
She only smiled at him, and even fake rage felt fucking impossible.
They didnât talk much over breakfast, Ben trying not to watch the way Her damp hair hung around her face, or the bob of her throat when she swallowed her cereal. When the coffee had finished, Sheâd stood and poured two mugs, dropping one next to Benâs plate and holding the other tightly between two hands.
âLiving room?â She asked, continuing when Ben only frowned at her. âFor the PTSD.â
He made a passive sound, drinking his coffee in a chug. âI donât give a fuck.â
âWhat an amazing contribution to my efforts,â She muttered, and Ben winked at her.
âDoes the exactly same amount of jack fucking shit wherever, Sunshine.â
She wrinkled her nose at him, poking her spoon around in the bowl. âYouâre going to eat your words, Pretty Boy.â Her words seemed more targeted to the soggy cereal than Ben. âJust fucking wait.â
After dumping the dishes in the sinkâBen would fucking wash them later, and no amount of Her glaring at him would make him do it nowâthey dropped on the couch in those same fucking positions that had made the Thing loud and satisfied. This time was no fucking better, with Her gentle hands back in Benâs hair and her perfect face only fucking inches away.
âI have a question,â She said abruptly, her hands hardly settled against his head. She didnât wait for him to nod before she continued, speaking without meeting his eyes. âHow did you know about Moon River?â
âMoon River?â Ben repeated slowly, watching Her overly controlled face as She gave a small nod.
âI just-â She gave him a quick, nervous look. âI heard you humming it yesterday, during my, uh, meltdown. I never told you about it.â
He frowned. âWhat would there be to tell me?â
âHow do you know about it?â She said firmly, finally fucking looking at him with raised brows. âAnd I asked first.â
âYou tap it,â Ben said stiffly, and She tilted her head at him. âWhen youâre about to lose your shit.â
âAnd you recognized it based on tapping?â She said doubtfully, eyes narrowing. âItâs not a rhythmic song.â
âI took he a fucking bit to realize what it was, but itâs not my fault you canât barely keep a fucking beat.â âThereâs no beat in that song.â
Ben shrugged. âYou do the verses. Stop trying to fucking avoid my question.â
âIâm not avoiding your question,â She grumbled, looking back up to his head. âYouâre just making no sense.â
Ben said Her name flatly, and she gave an annoyed huff.
âIt was my mother,â She snapped. âHer favorite song. She sang it all the time when I was a kid, itâs the only song she never made me perform, and it makes me feel safe.â
âPerform?â He frowned. âThe fuck do you mean perform?â
She sighed. âDoesnât matter.â
âThe fuck it doesnâtâ
âIt really doesnât,â She cut him off shortly. âItâs never something Iâll have to do again, so it just doesnât. You wonât fucking care about it, Ben. Trust me.â
âFucking try me, Sunshine.â She looked back down at Ben, and he gave her a challenging glare. âDonât put words in my goddamn mouth.â
âIf I do,â She said, holding his gaze. âYouâre not allowed to be a dick.â
âDeal.â
âPromise?â
âFucking hell,â he muttered. âI promise.â
âOkay,â She took a deep breath, glaring at his forehead as she spoke. âMy parents divorced when I was young. It was violent, messy. I had to testify in court. My mom got full custody, because my dad had shit credit and my mom was an amazing actress. Showed up all running mascara and soft words, like She hadnât just threatened me on the car ride over. She remarried real fast, like suspiciously fucking fast, to a rich, political dynasty asshole. Dude was a Connecticut senator when they got married, and he somehow got elected governor while I was gone. He would put on these stupid parties. With dancers and champagne towers and chocolate fountains. One of my brothers would give a speech, the other would play piano, my sister would dance, and I would sing. Sometimes theyâd hold an auction for what song I performed, and the only song my mother didn't allow me to perform was Moon River. It was our song, her song. It reminds me that there was a least one thing, one stupid fucking thing, that made me more important to her than the money. I mean,â She gave a dry, hollow laugh. âShe probably wouldâve caved for enough money, but I left before she could.â
Ben watched Her, the Thing scraping to hold her. âWhat made you leave?â
The silence before She spoke was torture. The Thing needed to know what her final straw had been. What line had been crossed, so he would never go fucking near it, fucking walk as far away from it as he could until She never even had to fear it.
âShe tried to keep me from leaving.â Her voice was soft. âI was fourteen, about to start high school. She tried to send me to some dog shit prep school, said I needed to work on my manners and being more fucking lady-like for when I graduated. I told her grades were important to get into college, she told me I wouldnât be going to college. Said I was too pretty to have to worry about a job, pretty enough that men would overlook my temperament.â She snorted. âI told her I wanted a job, I wanted to go to college. She told me to fuck off now, because sheâd lock me in the house if I didnât. So I fucked off. I moved in with my dad. Dude lived in a dogshit apartment with rats and asbestos and loud neighbors, but I never had to perform again. I could leave whenever I wanted, I was fucking free.â A shadow crossed Her face, her hand gripping Benâs face tighter. âI was free.â
âDid they fucking look for you?â Ben felt the Thing grow taut in him, straining for the clouds forming in Her eyes. âWhen Homelander-â
She cut him off, shaking her head. âHe faked my death. Left a note, nobody questioned it further.â Smoke curled around them, and Her heart was uneven and quick. âHe used to tell me that I was better with him, he cared more than anyone could, and he would tear the world apart to get me back if I left him.â She took a shaky breath, and the Thing felt heavy in Benâs chest.
âYouâre not going back,â Ben said lowly, and Her eyes fell to his. âI fucking mean it.â
âI know,â She said quietly. âI trust you.â
The pain on Her face made Ben want to make Homelander fucking bleed and bleed until he died a painful, pathetic fucking death.
âI think weâre done.â He pulled Her hands down from his face, and She frowned at him.
âWhat do you mean, itâs barely been thirty minutes-â
âYouâre still tired, Sunshine.â He says firmly. âWeâre done.â
âBut-â
âNope, done.â Ben pushed Her hands to her lap. âWeâve got other shit to do, Sunshine. Youâve got to practice your cheesesteak.â
She scowled. âItâs your night to make dinner, cunt. Youâre not getting out of it just because Iâm trying to learn to cook.â
âWell, you can fucking practice for lunch, and Iâll still do dinner.â
âI chose what you make.â
âAre you fucking negotiating?â
âYep,â she gave him a fake-sweet smile. âI choose what you make, and what we watch.â
âFuck no,â Ben rolled his eyes. âDinner-maker controls the TV. That was the goddamn deal.â
âI get to work on your PTSD. That was a deal as well.â
âThatâs not the way it fucking works-â
âThatâs the offer on the table, Pretty Boy.â She shrugged. âTake it and Iâll go make a cheesesteak right fucking now, leave it and I keep working on your stupid fucking head.â
Ben glowered at Her determined, insufferable, perfect face. âYouâre a fucking piece of work, brat.â
âRight back at you, cunt.â She grinned widelyâall light and smug and pleasedâwith Her hand outstretched, and Ben couldnât fucking force himself to be mad at Her if she tried.
âFucking Christ,â Ben muttered, but shook Her hand all the same.
With a small, satisfied sound that made the Thing fucking groan, She stood and walked straight to the kitchen. Ben trailed like a fucking pussy behind Her, deciding it wasnât because the Thing started to claw at him when She left his sight, but that he just simply couldnât miss the disaster about to unfold.
After about ten minutes it became clear that while She seemed to have mastered what âthin and tender vegetablesâ looked like, Ben was starting to wonder if he should be concerned about the steak giving her an aneurism. While it was damn adorable to watch her fight with the frost-bitten steak one the counterâa battle that involved several graphic threats about tracking down the cowâs family and using them for Her food insteadâHer face was contorted in dramatic anger and Ben could hear her chewing through her lip.
âIt would really go faster if you just cooked with your fucking fire powers.â Ben drawled and She glared at him.
âI donât know how to do that, cunt. I canât control it at that level.â
âIâll teach you.â He saidâcomplete fucking sincerelyâand She scoffed. âWhat,â Ben scowled. âWhatâs so fucking amusing about that.â
She shrugged, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. âYou canât even control yourself, and most of our powers are very fucking different.â
âFirst of all, brat, I havenât exploded in fucking months. Second of all, shut the fuck up. And finally, I used to train people at Vought all the goddamn time.â
âSo?â
âSo,â he snapped mockingly. âI know what Iâm fucking doing.â
âYeah, when youâre being paid a million dollars to tell someone donât make a fist like that, youâll break your fingers,â She dropped her voice in a deep-voice, mocking impression. âAim for the throat, people use that to breathe.â
âI trained peopleâs powers as well,â Ben pushed, matching Her frown. âI made some good fucking heroes.â
âIâm sure,â She said, leaning forward in sarcastic interest. âCrimson Countess, you have to aim at the target. You wonât hit it if you donât.â
âAnd she got a lot fucking better at it, so my point is fucking proven.â
âYou were fucking her,â She dismissed with a wave of her hand, turning back to the steak. âDoesnât count.â
The Thing started to feel like it was crawling up and around inside Ben. âWhat the hell does that mean?â
âI dunno,â Her heart was stumbling, and Ben wished she would fucking look at him so he could see if Her face was in that pretty flush. âReward systems are scientifically proven to be effective.â
âSo me fucking her was a reward-â
Benâs smug words died in his throat as fire ripped through the air, filling the room with smoke and the smell of charcoal. Ben waved a hand, clearing the smoke, and found Her standing at the now-black counter, hands on her hips as she glared down at a pile of charred ash.
âDidnât work.â She said, spinning around with a scowl. âAnd weâre out of steak.â
âWhat the fuck was that?â Ben all but shouted, the smoke still clinging to the edges of the room. âYou didnât need to destroy the goddamn kitchen!â
âThat was what you told me to do,â Her shoulders were tense, words clipped. âI told you I couldnât control it, and ta da! I canât!â
âYouâre being a fucking brat,â he spat Her name, and when she turned to face him Ben hadnât expected to see the sullen, tight look on Her face. Lips drawn together, hands gripping her sides with white knuckles. It wasnât quite the hollow look that always made the Thing physically hurt, but it was really fucking close.
âI just donât want to talk about training, okay?â She spat the word training with a venom, and though her voice was steady Ben could hear the tapping begin. âYou canât fucking help this.â
âThis?â Ben stood from the counter, walking to Her in fast, long steps. âYou mean you?â
She didnât flinch as he stopped in front of her. âDoesnât matter.â
âStop fucking saying that,â he shouted, the Thing roaring in his ears, drowning almost all else out. âI can fucking fix this for you, if you would stop being such a stubborn bitch all the time!â
The sullen look faded into rage. âIt doesnât fucking matter!â Her voice had raised to match his. âIâm not supposed to have these powers. Iâm not someone whoâs going to even be a fucking fake hero or earn any fucking rewards. Iâm a walking bomb, and I canât control it, and it doesnât fucking matter because thereâs no fucking point.â A shallow, distressing breath shook Her body. âI donât want to hurt people again, I wonât let myself.â She wasnât looking at Ben anymore, voice clouded and heavy. âSo it doesnât matter.â
The Thing wasnât only painful or consuming anymore. It was in Benâs blood, fucking burning at Her, for Her. He grabbed Her perfect face, turning her sad eyes to his. âYou wonât hurt people,â he said, keeping his voice as fucking calm as he could. âIf you just let me fucking help you.â
âBut-â
âIâm literally a walking bomb, Sunshine.â Ben raised his voice over hers. âIf thereâs no hope for you, thereâs certainly fucking none for me.â
âThatâs not the same,â She said quietly. âYouâre you. Youâre Soldier Boy.â
âYou mean the fucking terrorist?â He watched Her lips tug slightly at his dry tone, and the Thing felt a little less suffocating. âYeah, Iâm sure the public will be clamoring for my return when this is over.â
âArenât we self-aware today,â She gave him a half-hearted smile, and Ben returned it.
âIâm always fucking self aware, Sunshine. Itâs one of my best qualities.â
She gave a small laugh, and the Thing grew looser. âI think even you know thatâs not true.â
âI have no clue what youâre talking about,â He drawled, and Her smile became a little more genuine. âNow will you please just let me fucking train you.â
She sighed, but it wasnât as heavy as before. âIt doesnât-â
âDo you seriously fucking believe-â Ben didnât let Her finish, because if she said doesnât matter one more time he might lose his fucking mind. âThat youâre just going to be a fucking hermit for the rest of your immortal life.â
âI mean,â She said with a strained, fake-passive tone. âYeah.â
âYou think Iâd fucking let that happen?â
She blinked at him. âWhat?â
âSunshine, when weâre out of this and Iâm shipped off who fucking knows where, youâre welcome to come.â
âAre you-â She gaped at him, and the Thing felt stuck in his throat. âAre you serious?â
âYou burn, I burn.â Ben reminded Her firmly, because even if he wasnât entirely sure where this offering was coming from, he knew he fucking meant it. âIf you canât be around normal fucking assholes, control or not, you can always fucking be around me.â
She scanned his face. âAnd if I can be around people?â
âThen you can stay in shit-ass New York with all those fucking pussies on your team.â Ben answered, even as the Thing scraped at his ribs at the fucking idea of it. âBut youâll have to learn to control it.â
âWhat If I canât,â there was nothing but fear and exhaustion in Her voice, and it made the Thing move faster in him. âWhat if I just canât?â
âYou can.â He didnât leave room for protest before he continued. âWeâll start tomorrow.â
She gave a hesitant nod. âTomorrow.â
Ben took the victory.
The remainder of the night was quiet, Ben heating pre-made meatballs per their shitty deal, Her deciding they would watch Game of Thronesâa fucking suspicious choice given she always grumbled at Benâs commentaryâand Ben tried not to stare at Her through the night, his brain fucking consumed by every goddamn way he wanted to touch her. He managed, by some fucking miracle, to force his attention to how he would go about their training.
Ben hadnât been fucking lying, he had trained new heroes at Vought. Never any quite as powerful or insanely smart-mouthed and perfect as her, but She didnât have to know that. Heâd figure this out, because the fucking idea of Her locking herself up to keep every weak undeserving pussy safe made him feel bloody.
When Her eyes began to look heavy and she began rubbing her face to keep them open, Ben dragged her up into herâtheirâbed. Ben tried not to dwell on the Thingâpeaceful and quiet from the soothing sounds of Her breathing and heartâand how his offer hadnât felt forced onto its tongue. How he couldnât blame its grip over him, because his words had been entirely fucking true, and had fallen from him naturally.
She was up before him in the morning again. Ben felt a cold space where She had been, and the shower wasnât running, making him sit up roughly, not bothering to change before he stalked downstairs. Finding Her in the kitchen, cross-legged at the counter with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other, Ben found it a lot fucking easier to breathe.
 âYouâre up early,â he leaned against the door, and She looked up at him with cheeks puffed, mid-chew.
âSorry,â She said through the mouthful of food, and Ben grinned as crumbs fell from her perfect mouth. âI got up to pee, and I couldnât fall back asleep.âÂ
Ben walked to lean across the counter, the Thing bucking as She swallowed roughly. âThat fucking excited to get started, huh Sunshine?â
âFuck off,â She rolled her eyes. âI was just hungry.â
 âSure.â He winked. âYouâll need the energy.â âAre we training my fire or running a marathon?â She asked, raising her brows at him. âBecause I can always back out.â
âYou mean pussy out?â
âFuck you, Pretty Boy. Iâm going to burn your face off, and youâll have no one but yourself to blame.â
Ben grinned at Her as she took an aggressive bite, holding his gaze. âWeâll see, brat. Are we ready to go?â
âDonât you want to eat?â She asked through chews.
âIâll fucking live.â
She shook Her head, shoving the remainder of her sandwich into his hands. âEat, Ben.â
âIâm fucking fine,â Ben said Her name dryly, failing to return the food to her as she held her hands behind her back.
âEat,â She snapped. âYou get all grumpy when you donât.â When Ben still didnât move, She narrowed her eyes at him. âEat or Iâm pussying out.â
Ben scowled at Her, but shoved the remainder of the sandwich his mouth, holding her glare with a look of irritated amusement as he swallowed
âHappy?â He mocked, and She gave him a genuine, toothy smile.
âAbsolutely.â
The Thing fucking whined, and Ben had to fight a smile from taking over his goddamn face.
âCan we get fucking going then?â
She shrugged, âif itâs that important-â
Ben grabbed her armâignoring the warmth of Thing at her touch and is weak fucking need in his gut when she made a sound of surpriseâpulling her to dining room. They stopped in the center of the space, and Ben forced himself to take a step back, looking down at Her sternly.
âHow is this even going to fucking work?â She asked, bored sass dripping from her voice.
Ben winked at Her. âReward system, Sunshine.â He ran through the plan heâd spent the previous night developing, and almost missed the flush of Her face and the stutter of her heart. âIâll tell you what to do, and every time you do it right, Iâll owe you a favor.â
âA favor,â She repeated, and Ben couldnât figure out what that fucking slow tone and neutral expression meant. âWhat can the favors do?â
âWhatever you want, thatâs how favors work.â
âNo limits?â
Ben smirked at Her. âNo limits.â
She swallowed, and the Thing rumbled. âThen letâs fucking go.â
âPalm open,â Ben instructed, demonstrating with his own hand. When she followed suit, he nodded and continued. âNow light it.â
She gave him a flat look. âAre you fucking serious? I can light my hand, Ben.â
âProve it.â
âFucking asshole,â She muttered under her breath, and closed her eyes. A small flame ignited in her palm, and she stuck Her tongue out at Ben smugly. âTold you so, cunt.â
Ben fought the urge to grab Her, pull her tongue into his mouth. âIâm not done, brat.â He sneered. âHold it.â
âHold it?â She frowned, glancing between Ben and her hand. âThe fire?â
âIn your hand, for five minutes.â He grinned down at Her. âNo spreading it, no letting it go out.â
âThatâs it?âÂ
âThatâs it.â
She gave him a distrustful glare, spreading Her fingers wider. âMy first favor is going to be making you dye your beard blue.â
âWhat?â Benâs tone of mock-fury seemed to only make Her grin. âWhy?â
âBecause I hate you.â
âSure, Sunshine.â He pushed down how the Thing strained at the fucking idea of Her words being true. âBut youâll only be able to fucking waste your favor like that if you donât fucking burn my beard off.â
âFucking watch me, Pretty Boy.â She snapped, and Ben just winked.
The first minute was fine, but near the middle of the second Her eyes started to cloud, teeth gnawing at her lips. The fire started to flicker, and before the third minute started it burst up, spreading up Her arms and through her body.
âGoddamnit!â She screamed, smoke still rising after the fire went out.
Ben gave Her a cocky grin. âWhat that about watching-â
âNot a fucking word.â She spread Her palm once more. âI just wasnât ready.â
Ben hummed, and shot him a murderous glare. âI didnât say fucking shit.â He teased, and she rolled Her eyes. âIâm sure youâll get it this time, brat.â
âStop being supportive, you cunt.â She hissed, and Ben laughed.
It took Her two hours, twenty minutes, fifty-two tries, and a lot of swearing to hold the fire evenly for five minutes. It was fucking worth Her verbal abuse, Ben decided, because heâd never seen her smile that wide and happy as when she finally succeeded.
âYes!â She looked like she might literally fucking jump with joy. âSuck on that, Benjamin.â
âOne favor is yours, Sunshine.â He couldnât fight the Thing from taking over him with a broad, face-covering grin and chuckled. âNow do it again.â
By the end of the day Sheâd only burned Ben five timesâa fucking miracle as far as he was concernedâcould hold it for ten minutes, and Ben owed her five favors.
âYouâre making dinner,â She cashed the first one almost immediately, and Ben had expected nothing less. âAnd I still choose what we watch.â
âThatâs two goddamn nights in a row,â he grumbled, and She snickered.
âI know, itâs amazing.â
âBrat.â
âCunt.â
Though Ben scowled, the Thing felt so fucking goodâproud and blissed out like he was on a fucking drugâwatching for the first time in goddamn days look happy. That pussyass fucking joy only grew in him when Ben sat at Her side on the couch, passing her a plate of Dino nuggets. Her smile was like a fucking infection, and the Thing running through Ben wasnât helped in the slightest by the presence of those blue, off-brand sunglasses on her head.
âWhat the hell are you wearing those for?â Ben asked tauntingly, trying to make his voice crude to cover the Things genuine need to know. âItâs fucking night time. Indoors.â
âThey were collecting dust,â She reached a hand up, dropping them onto her face. âAnd I look cool as shit in them.â
âYouâd look better if they were green,â Ben muttered. âBlueâs a-â
âPussy ass color?â She teased. âDonât worry Pretty Boy, I wonât touch your beard and ruin your handsome face.â
âHandsome?â He blinked at Her, the Thing bellowing so loudly Ben couldnât even pretend to be cocky.
She ignored him, even as Her heart flipped. âHow would you feel about a pink beard?â
Ben whacked Her shoulder lightly, and she giggled, giving him a pout that made the Thing hungry. âShut the fuck up.â He grunted, and She just blew a raspberry at him.
Her attention returned to the TV and as they fell into a comfortable silence, Ben tried his fucking hardest to not steal glances at Her perfect face in the TV light, tried to fight the way the Thing rioted every time she laughed at the show.
When Ben went to shower that night, his thoughts were haunted by the wide, free smile on Her face.
The next two days were some of the most peaceful of Benâs entire goddamn life. For the fourth morning in a row, She had woken first. There had been towel discarded onto their growing pile of dirty clothes that told Ben sheâd showered, and he was able to hear Her heart beating with the shuffle of her steps from downstairs. Heâd entered the kitchen a quarter hour later to find Her in an intent focus, surrounded by grocery bags and the cookbook open on the table.
âHow long ago did you get up?â He asked, and Sheâd jumped in surprise.
âTwo hours,â Sheâd answered, gesturing to the steak on the counter. âMallory sent the delivery early. I think Iâm getting better at this cooking shit.â
âIâll be the judge of that, Sunshine.â Ben had teased, and been whacked by a paper grocery bag.
The day was filled with training, and once theyâd hit fifteen minutes Ben started to have Her hit random household objects they both deemed entirely fucking useless. Itchy blankets and pillows from the spare bedroom, paintings of horses and flowers Ben told her were fucking shitâSheâd laughed at that and the Thing had grown though his chestâall of Her remaining, non-fireproof clothes, and several books Sheâd claimed âmade Her want to hurt someone in middle school.â
âIâve never known you to need a reason to hurt someone,â Ben had drawled Her name.
Sheâd flipped him off. âIâm a god of peaceful resolutions, Ben.â
âSure.â
âI am.â
âI agreed with you, brat.â
âIâll fucking kill you cunt,â the words likely been spoken against her will, being the small, angry gape of Her mouth after.
Despite Her growing control over her powers, Ben somehow ended up with more burns that afternoon than the one before. Heâd been scowling at Her as she held his head, beard slightly burned in a real fucking noticeable way.
âI look like a fucking pussy.â
âBecause your beard has one little patch?â Sheâd teased, and watching where Her palms were resting in his hair. âI promise, Ben, it looks the exact same to everyone but you.â
âDonât lie to protect my fucking ego-â
 âIâve never lied to protect your ego before. Iâm not about to start now.â
Ben hadnât had a good retort to that, and theyâd sat in a bitter silence until Sheâd nudged his thigh with her knee. âWhat,â heâd sounded less resentful than heâd liked to, but it was hard to be bitter when the Thing was so fucking satiated by Her gentle smile, and how it was all for him.
âI swear, you look fine. You look like you always do.â
Heâd smirked, âwhich is?âÂ
âDonât push it.â
âI think the words you meant to say were like a Greek god of sex.â
âThe Greek god of sex was a woman,â Sheâd mumbled, looking down at him. âAnd I said donât push it.â
Ben had cum that nightâthe flutter of Her heart as she looked at him replaying in his headâwith Her name swallowed in his throat.
She was up first, fucking again. Though she was still next to him in bedâtheir legs tangled and one of his arms wrapped instinctively around herâBen had woken to Her eyes watching him with not a trace of lingering sleep.
âMorning, Pretty Boy.â Sheâd whispered, and heâd groaned, scratching at his face to try and push the itch of sleep from his body.
âHow fucking long have you been watching me, Sunshine?â
âNot long.â Ben hadnât believed Herâshe wouldnât meet his eyes, her own looked hung with gray, and her words sounded flat and rehearsedâbut heâd let it go. Theyâd spent the morning it the Kitchen, Ben watching Her try to cook and doing her second cashed favor, reading a fucking book.
âThis is a goddamn waste of a favor,â Ben had snapped, and Sheâd hummed, not turning away from the steak she was beating into submission.
âI have twelve favors still in the bank, and more on the way. I think Iâll live.â
âI shouldnât have fucking offered you favors. Shouldâve just said you get complete TV control.â
âOh, definitely,â She laughed. âI probably wouldâve agreed if you offered me ten bucks and some chocolate. But you didnât, so now you have to read.â
Ben huffed, and dodged as spare thin and tender pepper flew at his face. âFucking rude,â heâd said, and Sheâd grinned at him.
âDonât bitch and moan like Iâm torturing you. Youâre just reading.â
âThatâs fucking torture. This is worse than torture.â
âWoe really is you, Ben. All those words and not one is smut.â
âWhat the fuck is smut.â
Sheâd blinked, and her heart had stuttered. âItâs um, porn. Book porn.â
âYou can read porn-â Ben had examined Her, the embarrassment on her face. âDo you read porn, Sunshine?âÂ
âIâm not going to dignify that with an answer,â Sheâd mumbled, turning her back to him once more.
âI think you read porn-â
This time, the pepper hit Ben right in the nose. When She wasnât paying attention heâd eaten it off the floor, and it didnât taste like complete fucking shit. She was, through brutal and hilarious trial and error, getting better.
Everything was good. Genuinely fucking good. That afternoon Ben had walked away with only two burns, She had hit about half of the targets heâd set up with passable aimâa vast improvement from Her grand total of zero the day beforeâand the Thing was so fucking content it was driving Ben insane. Because though he was still forced to find relief during inconvenient times in locked spaces, the Thing was getting real fucking specific about a lot of shit. It had gotten so fucking comfortable, fantasies had started to happen in the moment. She leaned against him slightly, and Ben was lost in thoughts of pulling her on top of him and fucking her until she collapsed against him. She smiled at him and Ben barely held himself from bruising her mouth with his. Two nights in a row theyâd been so closeâtangled and pressed together in sleepâthat Ben hadnât been sure where he stopped and She started.
Things were fucking good. She was fucking perfect and Ben was starting to worry that the light feeling in his chest was something that might last. That he might burn the world to keep there.
She was sitting next to him now, watching the TV while Ben watched her. He wanted to touch Her, he had to touch Her. More than just her hands and legs, fucking everywhere. He needed to feel Her, because this stupid fucking euphoria was stronger when She was at his side and he could hear her heart. She needed to know that, he needed Her to smile because Ben told her that she was the most perfect goddamn thing that had ever existed, and nothing even came fucking close-
The door slammed, and She was moving before Ben was, a controlled flame igniting on her fingers. Some muffled grunts came from the dark hall, Ben felt his whole body tense, ready to bleed whoever was there-
A silhouette was nearing the door, and Ben was fucking proud of how fast the fireball left her hand. Only a second later, goddamn Butcher walked into the room, covering their floors in fucking blood and sweat.
Ben shouldâve pushed Her harder that afternoon. Maybe Her flame wouldâve hit Butcher in the fucking face instead of only leaving a scorch mark on the wall near his head.
âFucking Christ!â Butcher roared, stumbling far to the side. âYou almost fucking hit me!â
âIâm not that lucky,â She snapped, and Ben snorted. âWhat the hell are you doing here?âÂ
âAre you blind, Love?â Butcher unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a large bullet wound in his chest. âFucking fix it.â
She was, as fucking always, too kind for her own good. Because she stalked around the couch, and laid a single hand over Butcherâs wound in a venomous silence. Benâs jaw clenched as Her heartbeat began to pick up, at the smug fucking look on Butcherâs face, at how she was rubbing her own chest in mirror to Butcherâs injury.
âWhere did you even get this?â She asked, and Butcher shrugged.
âDonât matter.â His gaze turned to Ben. âGot a gift for you, Gov.â
 âA gift?â She and Ben said in unison, and Butcher rolled his eyes.
âArenât you two bloody adorable,â he sneered, and Ben wondered if She could fix a ripped off head. âItâs in the damn car, Iâll need help getting it.â
âHelp?â She asked, and Ben could see the thoughtful, untrusting frown covering her face, even with her back turned. âWhat is it?â
 âA fucking surprise.â
âHe hates surprises,â She said, and the Thing hummed somewhere near Benâs lungs.
âHeâll like this one,â Butcher dismissed. âDonât you fucking trust me, Love?â
âNope.â She snapped, heartbeat growing erratic even as she removed her hand. Butcherâs wound was gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin.
Butcher turnedâflipping the hall lightâand walked to the door in long steps. Swinging it open to the cool night air, he gave a sweeping gesture, brows raised. âCâmon cunts. We ainât got all fucking night.â
Ben followed Her down the hall, only step behind, an arms distance away. Butcherâs car was parked in the drive, still running with the headlights on.
âWhat would you have done if the car had got stolen?â She asked, following Butcher to the trunk.
âConsidering I canât file a police report,â Butcher said, tone bored and cruel. âI think I might just use all the fucking CIA resources at my disposal to bloody find it.â
The trunk was popped open, and in it layâfucking finallyâthe Soldier Boy shield in all its flawless fucking glory.
Ben didnât hesitate to yank it up, grinning widely, and almost missed Her look of amusement.
 âWould you two like a minute alone?â She teased, and Ben scowled at Her.
âShut the fuck up, Sunshine. Itâs my goddamn shield, that you pussies-â Ben pointed an accusing finger at Butcher. âHave fucking owed me for two months.â
âTime wasnât right, mate,â Butcher said lazily, and Her heart faltered.
âAnd itâs right now?â She was almost whispering, the wind howling over her words. Even in the darkness, Ben could see the fog begin behind her eyes. âWhy?â
âBig mission in four days.â Butcher began to move to the front of the car. âThought Iâd get ahead of it, let Soldier Boy do whatever weird shit he wants with his baby blanket before we have to move.â
Benâs fury at the baby blanket comment was drowned out by the tap of Her fingers. The blanched, fearful fucking look on Her perfect face. The Thing howled, and Benâs teeth became gritted.
âWhat type of shit are you about to make us pull, Butcher?â Ben growled.
Butcher winked. âWeâre trying to wrap this circus up soon, Gov. Donât worry your little mug about it.â Butcherâs attention turned to Her, saying Her name with a smirk. âSee you in a few days.â
The car pulled out of the driveway with a screech, and She and Ben were left standing in the night. She looked at Ben with an empty smile as they returned into the house.
âHappy to have your shield back?â
âShould never have left,â Ben gripped it a little tighter as the Thing started to pull him toward her. âThe fuck is Butcher planning?â
âWhat?â She said, blinking at him. âI- I um, I donât know.â
She wasnât looking at him, and every movement she had was controlled, mechanical. Ben didnât fucking believe her. âYou sure about that?â
She nodded, making a sound of agreement. Ben was going to push, he was going to ask why she was fucking lying, what she knew and why it was making her act so fucking strange, but She gave a long, stretching yawn, eyes lidded and steps unsteady.
âIâm tired,â She mumbled, leaning into Ben as they moved down the hall. âWhat time is it?â
âAlmost ten,â Ben watched Her give another, loud, fucking adorable yawn, and the Thing felt warm where they touched.
âFew more hours before bed,â She nodded, walking toward the couch. Ben caught Her waist with arm before she could sit.
âYouâre going to sleep now, Sunshine.â He placed his shield carefully at the foot of the steps. âYouâre going to fucking pass out.â
âNo Iâm not,â She wiggled a bit, but Ben didnât budge. âItâs only ten.â
âWhat time were you up this morning?â He asked dryly.
âWhat time were you up this morning?â She snapped.
âI fucking asked first.â
She gave him a half-hearted shove. âNuh uh.â
âReally?â He snorted Her name. âWhat are you, a fucking child?â
âThatâs rich coming from you, Ben.â She was starting to slump against him. âAnd even if I was, youâre not my fucking dad, you donât get to give me a bed time.â
âI think youâre giving yourself a bed time, beautiful.â The word slipped out of Benâs mouth, and the Thing became frozen as She looked up at him.
There was no fucking reason for that to be weird, Ben had called fucking hundreds of women beautiful. She wasnât any fucking different. Even if She was perfect and leaned into him and looking up at him with sleepy, shining eyes and the Thing wanted toâfucking had toâhold Her like this forever-
âIâm not tired,â Her words were slurred mumbles against Ben, and he chuckled becauseâbefore the words had even left Her mouthâshe was slumped into him, breathing growing steady with sleep.
Ben carried Her upstairs, laying her carefully on their bed and pulling the blankets up her body. When he drew back up, fucking forcing himself to walk away, back down the stairs, let Her sleep alone like a normal fucking man and not some weak fucking pussy who was scared to leave her side, she made a small sound behind him. When Ben turned, She was splayed out across the mattress, with one hand reaching out to Benâs side, and frown twisted on Her perfect lips.
âFuck it,â he muttered to no one, and stalked back to the bed. The Thingâs flailing around inside of him was calmed as Ben pulled Her to his chest, and She gave a small, breathy sigh as Her face returned to a picture of easy content.
Ben fellâlulled by Her heart and gentle breathâinto deep sleep.
She was up first. The bed at Benâs side had already grown cold, but he could hear the shower running through the bathroom door, hear the slow drum of Her heart as she moved. Ben stood and moved down the stairs, aiming to put on the coffee before she finished, only to find a half-full pot and a discarded mug at the counter. Her phone lay, face-down, at the mugâs side and glancing at the sink, there was a dirty plate that had definitely not been there the previous night.
When She arrived in the kitchenâhair damp and face blankâBen coughed loudly.
âI can see you, Ben.â She moved past him, picking up her phone. âYou can just say hi.â
âHow long have you been up?â He asked roughly, and She shrugged.
âFew hours. We went to bed early last night, I mustâve gotten all the sleep I needed.â
âYou fucking passed out last night,â Ben snapped Her name. âAnd it is not early. A few hours would mean before the fucking sun.â
She didnât look up at him. âSo?â
âYouâre being fucking weird. And you never answered my question last night.â
âWhat question?â Her voice was flat, bored.
âWhat the hell is Butcherâs mission? Itâs clearly something important, if he decided to give me my fucking shield.â
âI donât know. Nobodyâs told me.â
âI think youâre fucking lying.â
She raised her head, glaring firmly, coldly, at Ben. âIâm not. They donât tell anything, you fucking know that.â
âI-â
âNope.â She cut him off, placing her phone on the counter and crossing her arms. âWeâre not fighting about this. Doesnât matter what you think, Benjamin. Thatâs the fucking truth. Okay?â
Her face was like steel. He hadnât seen her face like this, blank and controlled and full of so much quiet fury, in fucking months. The Thing was fucking cowering in Ben, like a goddamn pussy. Not afraid, but fucking desperate for her to stop looking at him like that.Â
âFine.â He grunted, and something like relief flashed across Her face. âBut you need to fucking promise that if I need to be worried, youâll tell me.â
âSure,â She turned to the fridge, and Ben grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.
âFucking promise.â
She blinked at him, voice a little softerâalmost fucking delicateâwhen she said, âPromise.â
âGood,â He released her, and though the Thing felt no more peace, Ben took the goddamn weak reassurance. âNow eat, weâre training in a hour. Today youâre going to hit all the fucking targets.â
âYou have a whole lot of faith in me, Pretty Boy,â She gave him a smile, and even that felt fragile. âDonât know where the hell it comes from given how dogshit I am at this.â
âYouâre getting better,â Ben winked. âUnder my masterful fucking guidance.â
âUh huh,â She snorted. âWeâll see about that.â
Two hours later, after She missed the target for the eleventh time in a rowâBen watching from the edge of the roomâhe was starting to think she was doing it on purpose.
âYou know, if youâre trying to prove a point,â Ben said Her name, giving her an annoyed look. âThere are damn better ways to do it.â
âIâm not trying to prove a point,â She snapped. âYouâre the one who chose the smallest fucking cup in the world.â
âYou hit it yesterday.â
âShut up,â She missed again, a low noise of frustration sounding from her chest. âGod fucking damnit!â
Ben watched Her, lips gnawing and breaths becoming shallow. âCalm the hell down, Sunshine.â
âI am fucking calm.â
âYouâre burning a hole in the floor.â
She looked down to where the wood was charred beneath her feet. âFuck off.â She muttered.
âThis whole fucking house is fire-proof.â Ben pushed himself off the wall. âYouâre burning like a fucking bomb. What the hell is wrong with you today?â
âNothingâs wrong, Iâm just having an off day.â Her words were hissed through teeth, and smoke was filling the room.
âYouâre sloppy.â He stopped, glowering down at Her.Â
She didnât falter, holding his gaze. âLast time you said that, was anything wrong?â
âLast time you fucking broke down.â
âDo I look like Iâm breaking down now?â
âYou look like youâre about to collapse.â
âShut the fuck up.â
âHit the fucking target.â
She didnât break eye-contact as her arm shot out, and Ben looked in time to see the cupâalong with the entire damn wallâcatch fire.
âThat doesnât count,â he grunted.
âThe fuck it doesnât.â
âYou have to only hit the target, brat. Thatâs the whole goddamn point.â
âFuck off, you asshole.â She shoved against his chest. âYouâre being a cunt on purpose.â
âIâm not the one being fucking insane about ânothingâ.â Ben mocked. âWeâre staying right here until you either admit something is up or hit the target the right fucking way.â
âFuck you.â
Ben didnât answer, only held Her glare. The Thing hated this, it hated how fucking strange She was being, how She wouldnât fucking talk to him, how Her face was all painful shadows and contorted control. But Ben couldnât fucking break. Couldnât fucking let it go just to see Her smile. Not when she was tapping and chewing and her eyes were so fucking empty and she wouldnât tell him why.
The afternoon was long. She didnât hit a single fucking target, and Ben called it when She started looking like she was about to explode. Ben showeredâtrying to figure out the fuck to make Her talkâwhile She continued her practice in the kitchen. When he returned downstairs, Ben found her on the couch, watching the TV with a blank expression.
âHave you calmed the hell down?â He snapped, and the Thing grew thick in his throat when She looked up at him with exhausted, foggy eyes.
âYeah,â She said softly. âIâm sorry-â She cut herself off, swallowing heavily. âI promise nothing is wrong. Iâm just tired.â
âBecause you keep getting up like youâre in the fucking military,â Ben muttered, walking to sit at Her side. âYou need fucking sleep.â
She gave a hollow laugh. âPot, meet kettle.â
âShut up. Itâs not the same.â Ben leaned back. âAnd I have been sleeping.â
âI know, you snore like a truck.â Her smile this time was a little lighter. âAre you ready?â
âReady for what?â Ben turned to look at Her, and found his face being pulled down, soft hands in his hair. âRight now?â He frowned at her. âItâs late, and you look a little too fucking tired.â
âWe missed yesterday.â She said as if it was fucking obvious. âAnd if you still think it does nothing, you shouldnât have anything to worry about.â
Benâs frown turned to a scowl at that. She was too fucking good at backing him into those corners, where She knew he couldnât respond without her winning. âYou think youâre real smart, huh?âÂ
âI donât think Iâm smart,â She gave him a cocky grin. âI know Iâm smart.â
âBrat.â
âCunt.â
As Her brows drew together in focus, the Thing became strained. Something was fucking wrong. It didnât matter how many times She denied it, she was more stressed than heâd ever fucking seen Her. Ben racked his brain for a way to ask Her that wouldnât make her explode, wouldnât make her shut down or turn away from him. It was an exhausting process, he had no clue how She did this all the time like it was easy, asking careful question and using stupid fucking tricks to bend him to Her will. Admittedly, Ben admired it. It was fucking hot, the small smiles on Her perfect face and how quick her words came. But Jesus fucking Christ, he wished She was worse at it. Especially as he tried to do it himself.
He said Her name slowly. âHow did you meet Butcher?â
âWhat?â
âHow did you-â
âI heard you,â She said tightly. âWhy are you asking that?â
Ben fought the frown on his face. âAm I not allowed to ask fucking questions?â
âNot weird ones out of the blue.â
âItâs not that damn weird,â he grumbled. âYouâve never told me. Fuck me for being curious how you fell in with a bunch of fucking pussies.â
She sighed. âI escaped Homelander,â her hands gripped his head a little tighter. âThey found me. Not much more to say.â
âHow did they even know about you?â He searched Her face for any tells, any breaks in her mask.
Her face remained passive, unreadable. âMaeve told Butcher. He told Mallory. They tracked me down.â
âWhy didnât you fucking leave?â
âLeave?â
âThe country,â Ben pushed. âFuck, just the damn East Coast. Why did you stay where you could be found?âÂ
âYou donât know that I didnât,â she muttered. âMaybe they found me in Aruba.â
âNo, they fucking didnât.â
âYeah, well, you didnât know that, you cunt.â
âAnswer my question, brat.â
She glared at Benâs forehead. âI donât know. I just, the first thing I found out when I escaped was that to everyone in the world, Iâd been dead for over two years. I didnât have anything to go back to.â
âSo you shouldâve just fucking left-â
âI couldnât,â She hissed, and Ben felt her hand get warm. âI had nothing, no one. Just a fucking grave that proved I had existed. I was angry and tired and alone. Butcher found me at my grave, because thatâs the only place I could be. I didnât have it in me to leave, because I kept fucking hoping Iâd blink and the grave would vanish.â
âSunshine-â
âThey found me, and they offered me a reason. I âfell in with themâ because they knew I was alive, and it gave me some sort of fucking value. Thatâs it.â
Ben placed his hands over Hers, and she finally looked at him. âI think weâre done.â
This time, She didnât fight, and her voice was so fucking tired when she spoke. âOkay.â
The rest of the night was quiet, and though She was smiling and laughing, the joy felt uneasy, and it never reached her fucking eyes. When She leaned against Ben the Thing became loud, because though she wouldnât look at him she was gripping his arm like he might vanish. Though She traded teasing words with him, there was no edge of amusement to them, lined only with that flat, rehearsed sound.
She was up first. They had fallen asleep late, Her pressed into the bed by Benâs arm across her stomach, but She was up first. Ben found Her in the kitchen, sitting with her fingers tapping quickly on the counter. Before he could ask Her what the fuck she was doing up so early again, She looked up and smiledâa real fucking smile with teeth and clear eyesâas he entered the room.
âYouâre up!â There were bags under her eyes, hanging heavier than before, but she was really fucking smiling and the Thing was tearing in two. âFinally.â
Ben started at Her. âFinally?âÂ
She hummed, nodding as she stood and walked to the oven. âAre you ready to have your mind fucking blown, Pretty Boy?â
âWhat the fuck are you-â Ben cut himself off as She bent over, pulling out a cheesesteakâa beautiful cheesesteak that smelled fucking goodâand turned with a grin.
âI did it.â She said smugly. âI cooked.â
âYouâre real fucking pleased with yourself, huh.â Ben raised a brow a Her, and the Thing hummed as she gave a strong, proud nod.
âYouâre going to fucking proud of me as well, dummy. Iâm a god of this cooking shit.â
Fighting a smile, Ben rolled his eyes. âIâll be the judge of that.â
She placed the cheesesteak before him, and gave a dramatic bow. âBon appetit, cunt.âÂ
Ben expected it to taste like shit. It wouldâve been really fucking funny if it tasted like shit, and it wouldâve been so fucking easy. He couldâve teased her, or pretended it was fine and not felt the Thing buck around inside of him. But She would never just make shit easy for Ben. He had never met a more impossibly, obnoxiously fucking perfect person who seemed to know how to push every single one of his goddamn buttons. Because, fucking hell and Christ, this cheesesteak was good.
She watched his reaction carefully, eyes a little too wide to be natural. âSo?â Her voice was nervous, delicate, and Ben couldnât fucking force himself to lie.
âItâs good,â he muttered and She blinked.
âSo you like it?â
Ben swallowed. âItâs good.â
âYou said that,â Her voice was strained. âDo you like it?â
âYeah, Sunshine.â Ben took another large bite, and the words pushed out of him. âItâs fucking amazing. Keep your damn head on.â
Her smile took over her face, and though she didnât look the slightest bit less exhausted, she looked so fucking thrilled at his words that the Thing fucking whined.
âGreat. Thatâs good. Iâm, uh-â Her face was becoming flushed. âThanks.â
Ben winked at Her. âYouâre going to cook more shit now, right?â
Her heart stumbled, and she looked away. âWeâll see.â
âWhat if I give you that complete TV control?â Ben said through a mouthful, and She shrugged.
âI can just use my favors for that.â
âYouâll run out,â Ben said pointedly. âYou didnât get any yesterday.â
âI told you, it was just an off day.â She grumbled, and Ben nudged her with his foot, waiting for Her to turn before he spoke.
âIf you want to take a break from it, just fucking tell me.â
She stared at him. âYou fucking bullied me into this, and now you want me to take a break.â
âYouâre exhausted. Youâre not going to perform any better.â
 âIâll be fine.â She snapped. âIt was an off day.â
âYou donât have to prove a damn thing to me-â
âIâm not trying to.â She stood upright, moving to the door. âIâm fine, and Iâll perform fine as well.â
Ben examined Her, posture too rigid, face washed out, blinking too fast. âIf you donât, I earn a favor.â
âDeal,â she crossed Her arms. âThereâs not a chance in hell youâll get anything.â
âWeâll see,â Ben said through a mouthful, and She stuck her tongue out at him before marching away.
As he ate, Ben listened to Her move in their room. Her heart was fastâerratic and loud through the floorâuntil, suddenly, it wasnât. It grew slower, steady and even, and She had stopped moving. Ben walked carefully up the stairs, abandoning the plate in the kitchen, and opened their door to find Her slumped on the bed. She lay on her side, head against Benâs pillow, leg angled off the side of the mattress like sheâd been knocked out. Her eyes were fluttering slightly, her breaths coming long and deep, and Ben realized he hadnât seen Her sleep like this a fucking week. With a peaceful face, completely taken in rest. Every perfect feature of her face was blissful, somehow more beautiful with the push of pain. The Thing was filled with a foreign fucking adoration, and Ben couldnât stop himself from carefully pulling a blanket over Her body, flipping off lights and closing curtains until there was nothing that could disturb Her. He paused before leaving the room, watching Her like a pussy fucking creep, but he couldât bring himself not to.
The Thing wanted to touch Her, Ben wanted to touch her, and the only thing that kept him from pulling her to his side was fear of waking her. ThisâHer sleeping without restraintâwas more fucking important that the Thing and itâs stupid goddamn need.
Ben returned to the kitchen, finishing the cheesesteak and trying not to dwell on the ache of the Thing to return to Her. Just be there, near Her, if she fucking needed anything. She had to sleep, sure, but that didnât mean Ben couldnât fucking be there. What if She woke up, and was ready to tell him what had been bothering her. What Butcher was planning. What if She fucking cried, what if she needed him, just him. Not any food or comfort or help but just him.Â
He found himself in front of the TV, no attention on the show playing. Only Her breathing, only her heart. Any flutter or staggered sound made Benâs whole fucking body tense, and though no drums sounded, it felt painfully fucking similar, like the slightest break in Her was a break in him.
When he heard the first scream, Ben had never moved so fucking fast in his life. He tore up the stair, kicking the door clean off its hinges, and a rush of fire blew past him into the hall. Benâs blood turned cold as he moved into the room, his heart pounding in his chest.
She was floating off the bed, thrashing like sheâd been fucking possessed. Everywhere around her was fire, covering her body and pushing at the walls. She was screaming, no breaks in the horrible fucking sound for breath. Her eyes looked screwed shut, her jaw hanging open and body fighting something Ben couldnât see.
He launched himself at Her, trying to avoid her flailing handsâcurled into claws and scratching at the airâas he shook her awake. He roared Her name, and she rose higher off the bed, back arching and fire growing. She looked like she was being tortured, screeching words Ben couldnât understand and making deep, guttural sounds of agony. Ben could feel his skin burningâsearing and scarring and rawâbut grabbed Her roughly and pulled her down from the air. He couldnât wake Her up, her eyes wouldnât fucking open, the screams wouldnât stop-
Ben did the only thing he could think ofâdeciding She could give him all the hell in the world for it and it wouldnât change a goddamn thingâand slapped Her. Not hard enough to break Her, holding his strength back from leaving even a temporary mark, but enough to make it sting. Enough to make her eyes shoot open, make Her breathe ragged and sharp gasp as she fell fully onto Ben.
Tears were turning to steam in Her eyes and the screams became weak and desperate scrambles for air. She was clinging to Ben with flaming nails in his skin, but he didnât give a goddamn fuck, because all that mattered was Her. Awake, choked on sobs and burning, but awake. Ben would let Her melt his fucking skin off if it helped, if it meant he would never have to hear her scream again.
Ben wasnât sure how much time passed before She finally spoke, words pushed from her throat and so quiet he almost didnât hear them.
âWhy-â She took a pained breath, hands fisted in Benâs shirt. âWhy did you let me sleep?â
âYou passed out,â he said Her name in a low tone. âYou fucking needed it.â
She shook her head. âYou shouldâve woken me up.â
âDid you not hear me say you passed out?â Benâs voice raised slightly, holding Her tightly against him. âYou looked like shit, like you hadnât slept in days-â
âOn purpose!â She pushed at his chest, voice high and unsteady. âI couldnât sleep, I canât sleep! I wonât let myself or-â
Ben narrowed his eyes as she cut Herself off with a miserable sound, something furious build in him as Her head fell into him.
âOr what?â He asked firmly, and She shook her head.
âNothing.â Her voice was a whisper, and Ben pulled her back, holding her head so she was looking at him.
âOr what?â This time the words were louder, angrier. She had been fucking hiding something, and if it was something that reduced Her to this, he wouldnât fucking let it go or bend anymore. Ben was going to know what was fucking wrong, if She wouldnât tell him, heâd torture it out of Butcher by hand.
âI canât-â She shook her head frantically, and Ben grabbed it between his hands. âI canât tell you.â
âYes, you fucking can."
âNo, you donât understand, I- I canât, youâll-â She choked on another sob, and the Thing was roaring inside him.
âIâll what?â Ben said Her name through teeth. âWhat the fuck is wrong-â
She made a desperate whimper, trying to pull from him. âYouâll try to-â Her breaths were shallow and short. âCanât-â
âLook at me.â Ben lowered his voice, even as he tightened his grip.
âNo-â
The Thing was like stone in him, running a cold, angry resolve through Benâs body. âIf you think for one goddamn fucking second that Iâll let something hurt you, youâre a lot more stupid than I thought.â
âYou wonât- you canât-â
âStop fucking saying that.â He snapped, and another weak sound fell from Her mouth. âJust, fuck, please.â He traced soft circles on Her face, and her heart slowed slightly. âFucking look at me Sunshine. Just look at me.â
Finally, She did. The lingering fire went out as she met his eyes, blinking away heavy tears.
âWhatâs wrong.â
âI canât tell you.â She whispered, and Ben shook his head.
âYou need to fucking tell me. I canât do anything if you donât-"
âI know." Her eyes were so sad, she looked damn haunted. âThatâs why I canât tell you.â
âYou need to make some goddamn sense.â
She sighed. âI canât.â
âTry.â
âNo, Ben. I canât. I wonât. This isnât something you can fix.â
He said Her name slowly. âEither you tell me now, or we sit here until you come to your fucking senses.â
âI-â
âYou just woke up screaming and set the whole fucking bedroom on fire.â He roared, unable to care if his voice was loud and cruel. âYouâve been lying to me that everything is fine, but itâs clearly fucking not, so if you donât start talking right fucking now Iâll-â Ben took a deep, furious breath, dropping his head against Hers. âJust fucking tell me, goddamnit. Youâre making me feel fucking sick, so please tell me.â
She pressed her head to his, and Ben wasnât sure either of them were breathing. âYouâll try and stop me,â Her volume was barely a fucking sound. âIf I tell you, youâll try to stop me, and I canât let you.â
He said Her name, and she shook her head, leaning back.
âI canât let anything stop me. This is it. I canât tell you or youâll stop me, I canât tell Annie or Hughie or MM because theyâll stop me. I canât sleep because Iâll lose my nerve and stop myself. And I canât let that happen.â
âI-â
She cut Ben off again, red eyes searching his as she placed her hands over where Ben held her face.
âThis is the only way. So I canât let anything stop me.â
Ben started at Her, the Thing squeezing at his throat. âTell me.âÂ
âBen-â
âYou arenât fucking leaving this room until you get real fucking specific about whatever shit youâre about to pull.â
She only sighed. âI told you-â
He hissed Her name. âI have some fucking news for you, Sunshine. Whatever it is, Iâm stopping you. If itâs a gambit to steal Butcherâs kid, if it a play to trap Sage, if itâs some sort of self-sacrificial bullshit-â
Her heart faltered, so subtly, but Ben caught it. She started to shake her head, but he didnât waver, keeping her perfect, tragic face aimed at his own.
âWhat the fuck are you about to do.â He growled, and a small sob left Her. âAnd donât say you canât tell me or it doesnât matter or lie or apologize. Say the fucking truth,â Benâs voice became weak, desperate, pathetic as he said Her name. But he had to know. He might fucking die if he didnât. âPlease. Just tell the fucking truth.â
The second before She spoke was the longest of Benâs life. It was hell, because if she lied it would rip the Thing apart, would rip him apart. She was watching him, hands still holding Benâs, and when the silence broke with Her unsteady inhaleâworlds falling out of her like vomitâBen time move once more, all too fast.
âThe Ryan plan. Itâs the Ryan plan. Itâs the only safe way to get him out, get him away. Safe. Get proof, undeniable proof of what Homelander is. What heâs capable of doing, what heâs done. Becca Butcher files, and-"
âYou.â Ben said, blood running cold.
âMe.â
âAnd how, fucking how, did you plan on getting close enough to tell him.â Ben spat, and She wouldnât look him in the fucking eyes.
âThe only definite way.â
âFucking say it.â
âLet Home-â She made a weak, hollow, broken sound. âLet Homelander take me."
This was hell. Ben was fucking certain of it. This was some sort of punishment, where he got to have Her only to lose her. He wouldnât lose her. He couldnât lose her. Not if it was something like his, something unnecessary and so fucking stupid. There was no longer a divide in Ben between his rage and that of the Thing. Every fiber of his body was in a consuming fucking chant, a certain answer to what he had to do.
âNo.â
She shook her head. âItâs not-âÂ
âNo.â Benâs voice was firmer, louder. âNot a fucking chance in hell.â
âIâm not asking.â Her voice was still empty, but more firm with the anger creeping onto her face. âYou donât get to tell me what-â
âWe fucking promised.â Ben growled. âWe arenât going back. So no.â
âYou donât get to stop me, Ben.â She spat. âIâm fucking doing it.â
âWould you let me go back under, for some bullshit, pointless fucking plan?â
She scowled. âOf course not, but this isnât-â
âItâs the exact fucking same!â Ben pulled himself from Her completely. âYouâre not doing this, not while Iâm fucking alive and able to do something about it!â
âYou donât tell me what I can do!â She screamed. âThis is the only way, and Iâm fucking doing it!â
âNO!â He roared. âYou donât get to fucking give yourself to him like youâre a fucking pawn.â
âI am a pawn!â She screamed. âIâm the only way in, the only way to save Ryan, get him the fuck away so you can do your fucking job and kill him.â
âDo you really think that Iâd just let you go?â He hissed. âDo you seriously fucking believe that Homelander would take you and I wouldnât fucking burn everything to get you away from him.â
âIâm not your fucking responsibility. Protecting me isnât your job-â
âI donât give a fucking shit about your plans or Butcherâs plans or my job. I give a shit about you.â Ben could hear the drums in the distance, but it didnât fucking matter. Nothing fucking mattered except Her. âYou burn, I burn. Youâre not fucking burning without me, so no.â
She stared at Ben, and all the anger was gone, replaced by a look he couldnât fucking understand. âBen-â
âNo.â He snapped, extending his hand. âGive me your phone.â
âMy phone?â
âIâm calling your team. Weâre going to come up with a plan thatâs not fucking stupid.â
âMy plan-â
âIsnât going to happen. Youâre going to sleep, and Iâm going to stay right fucking here until we come up with a new fucking plan.â
She glared at him. âIf you lock me in this room, Iâll fucking-â
âStop being so fucking dramatic, Iâm not locking you anywhere. Wherever you go, I go. I wonât leave your side for a fucking second, not until I know you wonât try and go through with this idiotic idea.â Ben flexed his hand. âGive me your phone.â
She let out a shaky sigh, tilting her head. âYouâre serious.â
âAs goddamn cancer.â
She watched himâBen still couldnât fucking read that expression on Her perfect faceâlooking for something She seemed to find with a small nod. When She placed her phone in Benâs hands it felt like the world finally started moving again.
âIâm sorry.â She said softly, keeping her hand over the phone in Benâs palms. âIâm really-â
âNo apologies.â Ben said, closing his fingers around Hers. âGo sleep.â
âCan you-â
âAfter I call.â
She hummed carefully, walking to the bed. When She didnât lie downâonly sitting at the headboard with her arms wrapped around her bodyâBen raised his brows.
âI wonât-â She swallowed. âI wonât sleep if youâre not here.â
Ben blinks. âOh.â
âI can wait-â She cut herself off as Ben dropped on his side of the mattress.
âI can talk while sitting,â he said dryly. âSleep.â
All the fight and pain seemed to drain from Her at once with Benâs words, and she almost fell into his side as sleep overtook Her. Ben slung his arm over Her shoulder, and for the first time that day the Thing breathed.
Ben managed to get her phone open himself, and found Butcherâs contact with much more ease than last time. It took him a second to figure out the difference between cell and work, but when it began to ring Ben held it to his ear, grinding his teeth as Butcher took his sweet fucking time to pick up.
âOi, Love. We ainât supposed to be talking for another two days-â
âWe need to fucking talk Butcher.â Ben growled. âChange of plans, Sheâs not doing your dirty work. If you and your pussy ass team arenât here by tomorrow afternoon to figure out something new, all deals are off. Do you fucking understand?â
There was silence for only a second. âI donât know what-â
âDonât bullshit me. Tomorrow afternoon, or I walk.â
âI donât take any bloody orders from you, Gov. And you canât just fuckin walk-â
âFucking try me.â Ben hissed, and didnât wait for Butcherâs response to hang up.
ââââ
The day was long. You slept, really slept, for the first time in a week. No nightmares, no fire, no vigilante methods to keep yourself awake. Ben wouldnât let you out of his sight, except to use the bathroom. And even then youâd have to talk the whole time so he knew you were there. He didnât trust you, and you didnât blame him. He wonât look at you, he keeps ignoring your apologies, and the Feeling canât stand it. Itâs killing you. Heâs barely spoken, except in one-word answers to questions.Â
âWhen will the team be here?â You ask nervously.
âEvening.â He says coldly, and thatâs all you get.
Now youâre wrapped in a blanket, sitting quietly on the stairs as everyone fights around you. Most of your view of the team was blocked by Benâwho had planted himself firmly at the foot of the stairsâbut you could hear it all.
 âWait,â Annie says slowly. âSo was this her plan, or Butcherâs?â
 âSounds like a Butcher plan.â MM mutters, and Butcher scoffs.
âThis was all her,â he snaps your name. âI was just enjoying the ride.â
âWhen did you even come up with this?â Hughie asks, and you catch a glimpse of his worried face as he tries to lean around Ben and address you.
Ben promptly moves to block him once more. âDonât fucking talk to her, you fucking pussy.â
âIâm just-â
âFive steps back, Cocksucker, before I make you.â
âBen,â you mumble, standing up and walking to be directly behind him. âItâs fine.â
âListen to Sunshine, Gov.â Butcher sneers. âItâs fine.â
You glower at him over Benâs shoulder. âStuff it, Butcher.â
âI still donât really understand,â Annie speaks over the venomous looks you and Butcher are exchanging. âDoes Mallory know about this?â
âNo,â you sigh. âOnly Butcher and I. That was the point, no possible leaks that would tell Homelander it was a trap.â
âAnd the Becca files-â
You cut Hughie off. âI wouldâve hidden them on myself.â
âHomelander wouldâve seen them, no?â Frenchie frowned. âX-ray vision.â
âI had Butcher buy a tampon-shaped USB.â
Annieâs face wrinkles at your words. âThatâs⌠Disgusting.â
âBy the way,â Butcher interjects. âIf we ainât going through with this, you owe me forty.â
âThereâs no way in hell youâre going through with this, Butcher.â MM snaps. âYou two-â he waves a hand between you and Butcher. âAre motherfucking idiots, who knew how insane this plan was and didnât tell us because thereâs not a single fuckin universe where weâd let you go through with it.â
âI donât know why Iâm takin all the bloody blame for her plan-â
âBecause sheâs on strike one!â Annie shouts. âThis is strike fifty for you, asshole! Thereâs a reason she went to you, because is your exact brand of fucking shit!â
âOoo,â Butcher mocks. âChurch girl using some vulgar fuckin words, Iâm shaking in my sketchers.â
Hughie says your name, pleading. âYou have to have known this was a bad idea. Why-â
âIt was, it is-â You see Benâs jaw clench in front of you. âThe best way to get Ryan away from Homelander at his own will. Thereâs no tangible records of me, or anything that Homelander did to me.â
Annie frowns. âWhat about a witness-â
âThere are none. I, I-â Fire itches under your skin as memories of white lab coats covered in ash flash in your head, clearing suddenly as Ben leans back, his hand moving to brush your knee. âI killed all of them. When I escaped.â You swallow. âIt was an accident-â
âWere there rotating guards?â Ben turns to look at you, eyes narrowed in a look of stop apologizing.
âI think so.â You mutter.Â
âThen thatâs it. We find one of those fucking pussies, get them to testify or give us some fucking proof.â
You shake your head. âHomelander might have killed them-â
âMaybe he did.â Ben shrugs. âAnd weâll find another fucking way. Youâre not throwing yourself in front of this stupid fucking train,â he says your name, holding your gaze like no one else is in the room. âThatâs it.â
MM coughs your name, and your attention is ripped from Ben. âAre we going to need to put some security on you-â
âSheâs not leaving my side.â Ben snaps, and MM glares at him.
âI didnât fucking ask you, Soldier Boy.â
âIâll be fine,â you say, giving MM a reassuring nod as you notice the muscles of Benâs back growing tense. âI promise. Just, please, keep me updated.â Your voice is desperate. You donât care. âTell me what you find, even if itâs nothing.â
MM nods. âYouâll stay here?â
âI swear it.â
The teams leave, and itâs just you and Ben, alone.
âBen, please-â Almost the moment the door closes youâre begging, chasing Ben as he walk away from you and up the stairs. You just need him to say something, anything that makes you sure he doesnât hate you.
âStop it,â He grunts your name, not turning. âJust, fucking stop it.â
âIâm sorry-â
âI donât want your apologies.â He snaps. âIâm not mad.â
âYes you are-â
âNo, Iâm not.â He whips around, and still catches you before fall into him. You feel it. Heâs not mad, but something is pushing around in his heart. Itâs painful, and itâs so much worse. âIâm mad at Butcher, Iâm mad at Homelander. Iâm not fucking mad at you.â
âWhy?â You canât help but whisper. âI lied.â
Ben sighs, eyes boring into yours. âBecause itâs you.â He grunts, and the Feeling keens. âToo fucking kind for your own good, too fucking smart as well, even if that was the most stupid shit Iâve ever heard.â
âSo,â you donât think you can breathe. âYou forgive me.â
âI wasnât mad at you, Sunshine. Iâm fucking furious that you thought this was a good idea, that you werenât going to tell me. But you didnât betray me. So weâre square.â
âNothing wouldâve happened to you,â the words are blurted, because you need him to know. âThe plan was youâd just be locked in here alone, and Butcher would have Frenchie make something for when you had to leave. I wasnât ever going to put you back under.â
âI know. I trust you.â
And you feel that too. He does.
âYou donât hate me,â you say, one more time. Itâs barely a question, but Ben answers anyway.
âI donât hate you.â
âYou give a shit about me,â you repeat his words from last night carefully, the Feeling desperate to hear him say it again.
He grunts, and you feel his heart turn. âI give a shit about you.â
âAnd your offer? To go with you?â
âWhat about it?â
âItâs still an offer?â
âDid I say it wasnât?â
âNo, but you might not have been sure and-â
He cuts you off with your name. âDo you trust me?â When you nod, you can feel his heart, tense and hot. âThen believe me when I tell you that I meant it. No pussying out.â
âNo pussying out.â You echo. âBen?â He frowns, eyes holding yours, so you continue. âI give a shit about you, too.â
A smile pulls his lips. âYou as well.â
âShut up,â you mutter, and youâre also smiling. âStop using my own lessons against me.â
âStop teaching me shit.â He teases. âIt never ends well for either of us.â
âWhat if, what if we learn stuff together?â
âSunshine, if youâre about to suggest I go back to fucking school-â
âNo, dumbass,â you laugh softly. âYou canât cook either. We have our one, shitty cookbook. Iâll keep learning if you do it with me.â
Ben narrows his eyes. âWhy? What are you going to make me do?â
âI just want to do something together that isnât about life or death.â You mumble, looking anywhere but him. âIâm not trying to make you do anything. If you donât want-â
âFucking fine.â You turn sharply, unsure you heard him correctly. âWhatever.â
âSo youâll do it?â He grunts a sound you know to be begrudging affirmation, and your smile grows wide as you extend your hand.
âIâm not fucking shaking on it.â
âDo it or Iâll never make cheesesteak again.â
He scowls, grumbling something about blackmail, but shakes your hand roughly. You expect him to let goâpull away and keep being gruff and quietâbut instead Ben pulls you into him, holding you caged, warm, safe in his arms. You hold onto him, because if he lets go your legs might give out and the Feeling is soft and content here. You donât know how long youâre standing there before Ben speaks, and you feel the words rumble in his chest as he does.
âYou need sleep.â
Heâs right, and you donât have anything in you to fight, so you just nod. Ben picks you up, fully off the ground, and carries you into your room. As he places you on the bed he tries to let go, but you hold him tighter, pulling him until his head is next to yours.
âWhat if I have a nightmare,â you say softly in his ear.
âAre they-â
âAbout Homelander. All of them.â
âThen Iâll wake you up, and weâll watch TV or some shit.â Ben says firmly.
âYou wonât leave?â
âYou couldnât force me away.â
You believe him. You can feel it, the stone resolution and the pure fucking care. Both, somehow, for you. Heâs still touching you, and the Feeling is peaceful. It never wants him to let go.
âOkay,â you yawn, and your body is already growing numb.
âGoodnight, beautiful.â You hear him say right before sleep catches you.
End Note: As we reach 10 chapters, 100k words, and 1 month, I just want to pause and say that I am so, so thankful for you guys. I canât believe the love and support everyone has given this fic, or properly articulate how amazing this has been for me. I donât think Iâve had so much fun writing in years, and I honestly didnât think people would even read this. Every time you guys engage with my little story it means the whole fucking world to me. Every comment or interaction is everything to me, you donât even know. Thank you, thank you, thank you again, and Iâll see everyone next time for the much less angsty chapter 11. In the mean time, let me know your thoughts! <3
Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties
@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur
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#soldier boy x reader#the boys#soldier boy#Enemies to Friends to Lovers#slow burn#angst#x reader#reader insert#eventual romance#romance#canon typical violence#canon divergent au#the boys amazon#billy butcher#annie january#frenchie#mother's milk#kimiko the boys#smut#fluff#hughie campbell#masterlist#eventual smut#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys fanfic#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x female reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters
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LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII
âforever winter
summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.
pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.
word count: 6.8k
warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!
a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.
happy reading <3
masterlist!
January 19, 2020
Los Angeles, CA
There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.
This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadnât yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.
And then thereâs the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becomingâand more. Youâve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievementsâflawless. Sheâs a masterpiece.
This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism sheâs faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.
She always sticks to the narrative.
For the longest time, you hoped you wouldnât need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasnât gradualâit was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, youâve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.
As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?
âThere's a line of press when you get out of the car,â Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. âYou know, the usual stuff.â
âGot it.â
You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.
The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.
âWhy isnât Daniel here?â Taylor asks, breaking the silence.
âHe had to fly back to Enstone,â you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. âThe season starts soon. Heâs prepping.â
Last year was a challenging one for Danielâhis racing season wasnât what he hoped for, and heâs determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.
âOh, thatâs too bad, babe,â Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. âWhen will he be back?â
âIâm not sure; he didn't say,â you murmur. âHopefully soon.â
The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. âLooks like weâre here,â Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.
You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. Itâs always easier with someone by your side, but tonight youâll have to do this alone. You follow Taylorâs lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detachedâlike youâre watching yourself from afar.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. Youâre greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.
âI thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.â
The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.
His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.
âYou look amazing,â he says, his eyes lingering on you.
You glance down at your outfitâa sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. âThanks,â you say. âYou donât look so bad yourself, Pascal.â You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.
Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âI came over to congratulate you.â
"Yeah?"
âThe Achievement Award. That's huge.â
You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. âThat sounds like an overstatement for someone whoâs only 28.â
He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others canât. You can hide from the world, but not from him.
âDonât do that,â he says quietly, his voice firm.
âDo what?â you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.
âDonât invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.â
Thereâs something in the way he says itâa weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.
Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.
âThank you, Pedro,â you say softly. âThat means a lot.â
Does it?
He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. âWanna walk in with me?â
For a moment, you hesitate. Thereâs an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.
â˘â˘â˘
You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. Youâd been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of workâor at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.
The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.
It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyesâa strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in youâsubtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.
You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasnât the end, you reminded yourself.
The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasnât until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.
You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.
With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.
âThis is... overwhelming,â you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. âI donât even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.â
You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.
âWhen I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,â you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. âBut I learned early on that dreams donât work unless you do. Itâs not just about talentâitâs about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.â
Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. âTo the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like youâre not good enough or that youâll never make it, but donât stop dreaming. Donât stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.â
A wave of applause broke out, but you werenât finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.
âAnd through all of it,â you said, your voice softer now, âkeep the people who truly love you close. In this business, itâs easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like youâre not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. Iâve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, Iâm grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, itâs those relationships that make it worthwhile.â
Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.
âIâm grateful,â you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, âbecause Iâve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. Theyâre what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.â
You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, âSo thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.â
March 5th, 2020
Calgary, Canada
Life after the awards ceremony didnât feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythmâwork, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Danielâs season was supposed to start soon, and though youâd seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadnât allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directionsâwhen was the last time anything felt normal?
A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked mealâneither of you had the energy for anything more.
âIâm glad youâre here,â you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didnât quite reach his eyes. âI miss this,â you added.
âYeah, me too,â Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the airâinsubstantial, weightless.
âIs everything okay? Youâve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.
He hesitated, then nodded. âYeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. ItâsâŚyou know, a lot of pressure.â
You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. âYouâre going to be great. You always are.â
He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.
â˘â˘â˘
By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The settingâa desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhereâwas perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. Youâd always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.
On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.
âThereâs a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virusâŚCOVID, or whatever theyâre calling it. Have you heard anything about it?â
Youâd heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. âIâve heard some talk around set, but no one knows whatâs happening yet.â
âWell, Iâm telling you now, itâs serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.â
You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.
âGuess Iâll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.â
Taylor chuckled. âYeah, enjoy it while youâre in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.â
You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.
By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.
â˘â˘â˘
Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than youâd ever seen yourself buyâjust in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.
You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. âIâm stuck in Canada,â you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.
âAre you serious?â her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. âYou shouldâve been back by now. What about New York?â
âI donât know when Iâll be able to get back. Airports are closed.â
She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. âJust take care of yourself, honey, alright? Donât be reckless. Are you alone?â
âYeah, but Iâll be fine."
Her voice softened. âBe careful, okay?â
âI will, Mom. I promise.â
â˘â˘â˘
It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.
Danielâs name appeared on the screen.
You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldnât ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, âHey.â
His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to itâa kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "Howâs it going over there?"
You shrugged, even though he couldnât see it. âYou know⌠same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.â There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. âHow about you? Everything alright?â
He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. âActually⌠I donât think we should keep this up.â
The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shockâjust a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.
Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You donât remember what you said in response, something vague like, âYeah, I get it.â The words came out on autopilot, and you werenât really listening anymore. It wasnât traumatic; it wasnât the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.
His voice was kind, softâtoo soft. âYouâre so great, you know that, right? This just⌠it wasnât working anymore. For either of us.â
You nodded, though he couldnât see it. Your mind was elsewhereâon the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Danielâs. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.
âI guess we knew this was coming,â you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.
âYeah,â he agreed. âBut still⌠I didnât want it to hurt.â
The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it stingâthe acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.
Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.
âWell, take care of yourself, alright?â Daniel said softly.
âYou too,â you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.
And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you werenât sure you needed.
â˘â˘â˘
The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabinâsnowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.
Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cookedâburned some things, tooâand found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.
But some nights, the quiet was too loud.
The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.
â˘â˘â˘
One day, in the middle of bakingâflour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counterâyou received a text: âI hope youâre doing okay.â
You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.
âIâm okay. Are you?â
His reply came almost immediately. âNot really. Mostly lonely.â
Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.
âWanna talk?â you typed, holding your breath.
âWould love to hear your voice,â came the reply.
So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everythingâabout the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, âHowâs Daniel?â
You hesitated. âWeâre no longer together. Havenât been for a while.â
There was a pause, then a soft, âOh, Iâm sorry.â
You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.
â˘â˘â˘
On Pedroâs birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, âYou made me a cupcake?â
âOf course I did,â you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. âNow, pretend to blow out the candle.â
He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. âThank you for this. Itâs not much of a birthday without people.â
âWell, youâve got me,â you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.
Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded inâ"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"ââMy favorite best friends!ââand you laughed at the attention it brought.
â˘â˘â˘
One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. âI think the lyrics need work,â you said, biting your lip.
He smirked. âLet me hear them.â
You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. âSee, it doesnât quite flow.â
âLetâs try this,â Pedro suggested, offering a line.
By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.
The days passedâisolated and coldâbut your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldnât help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?
October 5, 2020
Budapest, Hungary
Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filmingâthe work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.
He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something specialâthe distanceâboth physical and emotionalâwas wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadnât told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.
You lived strangely in his head.
He still hadnât found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted himâa truth he couldnât bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? Heâd been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now⌠now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.
His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasnât here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.
The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasnât rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.
â˘â˘â˘
A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didnât know why heâd come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.
The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafĂŠs, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.
One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.
"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.
His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing youâhe thought better of it. What could he say that wouldnât ruin everything?
"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."
You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"
"Yeah, Iâm good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "JustâŚmiss talking to you, thatâs all."
"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldnât shake the feeling that he was failingâfailing himself, failing you.
â˘â˘â˘
The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didnât bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didnât. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.
He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, Iâll tell her.
December 31st, 2020
New York, NYÂ
The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.
âItâs just something small,â he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. âNot a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had⌠I think we need this.â
You hadnât seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with peopleâOscarâs people, your peopleâsounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.
You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.
When you arrived at Oscarâs apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.
Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. âLook who finally made it,â he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. âYou look good.â
âYou too,â you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimateâjust the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.
Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscarâs embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.
âI missed you so much!â she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadnât seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.
He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyesâusually so full of light âlooked tired.
But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.
He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.
âHey,â you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of himâpleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say somethingâanything. You couldnât live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.
But the words stuck in your throat.
âAt last, we see each other,â he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.
âAt last,â you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.
You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.
"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper thereâsomething lingering just beneath the surface.
But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. âSorry! I need to steal her for a sec,â she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment sheâd interrupted.
Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.
You promised yourself youâd find him later.
â˘â˘â˘
In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscarâs booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.
âCute hat,â you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. âLetâs document this moment.â
He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.
âPerfect. Thatâs going on Instagram for sure,â you teased, and Pedro groaned.
Before anyone could respond, Oscarâs wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedroâs head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.
âSend that to me,â she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.
â˘â˘â˘
The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldnât resist.
Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.
âThat was something, huh?â he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
âI was extra terrible just for you,â you shot back, walking over to him. âI know how much you hate this.â
âYouâre so thoughtful,â he said.
Just as you were about to respond, a womanâs voice broke through the moment. âOscar said you were in here,â she said, stepping forward. âHi.â
You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.
You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. âThis is Julia,â he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.
Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit youâshe was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.
Oh.
Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldnât betray how much this hurt.
Pedroâs voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. âThis is what I wanted to talk about earlier.â
Your stomach twisted. âOh, great,â you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didnât feel.
âAnd you?â Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. âYou said you wanted to talk, too.â
Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say somethingâanythingâbut all you could muster was, âNo, um, it was nothing, really.â
Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.
âIt was a pleasure to meet you,â you said to her, your voice tight. âIf youâll excuse meâŚâ
And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.
âHey,â you blurted, pulling him aside. âHeâs fucking dating someone? And you didnât say a thing?â
Oscar looked at you, taken aback. âIâit wasnât my news to share.â
You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. âI know. I know, Iâm sorry. I just⌠I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.â
Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. âYou were what?â
You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. âYeah. But now? I mean, clearly, itâs just another sign. The timingâs never right. Never.â
Was it punishment? you thought.
Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. âHere,â he said quietly, offering it to you.
You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.
"Itâs fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. Itâs not serious yet."
âI just donât get it,â you muttered, almost to yourself. âI donât.â
Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. âI know. I know.â
You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.
â˘â˘â˘
âThere you are,â Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.
You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.
But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasnât full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldnât quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.
"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.
You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldnât decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."
He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I donât know. Itâs new. I didnât think it was important enough yet. I thought Iâd find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didnât want to make things weird, you know?"
Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her nameâJuliaâsaid they had met on set, that it wasnât serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.
See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.
But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.
âDonât apologize to me about your relationship,â you said, the words sharp and cutting. âThatâs the kind of thing that makes me feel like Iâm some kind of Machiavellian villain.â
Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.
"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.â You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.
Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.
You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.
"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.
Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. âIâm trying,â he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.
You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.
âThen thatâs good enough for me.â
It was an unspoken agreementâa quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before youâd ever had a say in it.
a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)
a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3
#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal fic#my writing#love is complicated fic
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bucktommy web weavings (2/?) invisible string chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons, one single thread of gold tied me to you.
invisible string by taylor swift // aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sĂĄenz // smoke signals by phoebe bridgers // you are a mystery to me by pavana // the sun is also a star by nicola yoon
#it's every bucktommys god-given right to make an invisible string post soooo#i dont like this but queueing it up#i'll see yall in the morning#911#bucktommy#tevan#kinley#bucktommyedit#dailykinley#911 abc#misc#web weaving#bucktommyweaving#mimi edit
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