#i think about this so much but every time I read it in the book i'm still caught off guard

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[txttletale]

hey what DO you watch on youtube? seems like you'd have some neat recommendations :3

i really loathe the like super-highly edited sound effect post-mrbeast slop most of youtube is now so i mostly like stuff that's like... calm and sedate. stuff i've been watching lately in no particular order:

northernlion vods and clips. he's an OG. i especially like his react court series, i must have watched all of them like five times.

speaking of OGs i've been watching zero puncutation (now fully ramblomatic) for like ten years and if anything it's only gotten better. best game review content on the internet. been really enjoying his more recent, slightly longer and more thoughtful 'extra punctuation/semi-ramblomatic' series too.

any austin's skyrim unemployment rate videos. instant classics to me, it's just a guy going around in skyrim trying to figure out the unemployment rate in every town. it's a very dry kind of humour, he plays it admirably straight, and it's weirdly calming.

kitten arcader's foot the bill videos. in a kind of similar vein, he watches the saw movies and then produces an itemized bill for everything jigsaw needed to buy to make his traps. it's kind of like... if cinemasins was fundamentally curious instead of fundamentally incurious, it scratches a similar sort of nitpicky detail-oriented quantifying itch but without inimical to the concept of art.

shuffle up and play. it's a magic the gathering play series that has enough editing that the gamestate is actually legible but not enough editing (or at least, not enough obtrusive in-your-face editing) that its annoying. i also like that they reguilarly play non-edh formats like cube and pauper.

spice8rack. i'm pretty picky about video essays but spice8rack has very obviously actually read books and has interesting things to say about the topics it discusses (mostly magic: the gathering). sometimes it has a kind of grating Theater Kid Energy but the fact that it actually meaningfully structures essays and analysis to earn the silly long runtimes is a rare delight from a video essayist.

jenny nicholson is a long-time favourite and another permanent fixture in my rotation. she's just extremely, remarkably funny which makes her the only 'basically just summarizing a thing' youtuber i think is worth the time of day.

i watch some sketch comedy, mainly wizards with guns and aunty donna, who both consistently put out really funny stuff that's kind of ITYSL-adjacent in its barefaced absurdism and contenmpt for concepts like "stopping a joke at the logical punchline". i also really like alasdair beckett-king and binging the old clickhole backlog for short-form comedy on youtube.

wolfeyvgc is right on the edge of the level of editing i find tolerable but as a long-time fan of multiple esports he Has It, he's absolutelyt fantastic at t elling the narrative of a tournament, explaining plays clearly, and generally making competitive pokemon esports thrilling and interesting ti someone (me) who#s never played it and doesn't care about pkoemon that much

i religously watch every elliespectacular/dathings YTP, the absolute best in the game right now, top tier snetence mixing and really good at actually setting up and paying off jokes in a way it feels like a lot of ytp doesn't. verytallbart is also pretty good.

trapperdapper is a channel i recently binged, it's a really fucking funny parody of minecraft challenge content that veers slowly from obvious angles of parody into pure absurdism with tons of blink-and-you'll miss it subtle visual gags.

too much future is a great youtube series where the two guys from just king things/homestuck made this world play through every fallout game and analyze them in that context. extremely funny and also just top-tier very sharp analysis. really good

another one of the rare good video essayists is jan misali. they're really funny and will go into topics that kind of seem narrow or strange to begin with in such depth and make them so interesting that it's consistently astonishing.

oh and finally sarah z makes pretty good videos. 'the narcissist scare' is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of one of the most annoying pop-psych phenomena of the last couple years. and remarkably well script supervised i think did anyone else watch it and think 'wow the script supervisor on this must have been, a mind geniuse'

ok i think that's all i've been watching lately. hope you like whcihever of these recs you check out :)

[manujanolavu]

As someone who feels this on a daily basis, let me tell you why you want to learn everything, but you're too tired to learn. And this is something I've learnt recently, about myself and others around me.

We're very used to getting gratification instantly; short form content for example. You see a reel/tiktok, you feel something and then you move on. The cycle continues. This led to an observation I have. Our generation is slowly losing patience to learn. Gen Alpha and younger Gen Z (in the US, I don't think I've seen it in India) barely have the patience of sitting in one place and presumably terrible listening, comprehension and arithmetic skills in their early years. Because Gen Z has grown with technology, we can imagine a life with limited access to the Internet. If possible, we can actually adopt a lifestyle without needing technology for gratification, but Gen Alpha seemingly won't be able to do it as easily as we could because they have grown in technology. (But they're younger than us, so it might be easier to nip the problem in the bud, but it'll be pretty difficult getting them away from iPads.)

Back to why this is so. Since our brains are so used to getting instant gratification with very little effort, we've grown used to it. It's much easier to scroll on Instagram or Tiktok (or YouTube Shorts, if you're anything like me and decided to delete Instagram to escape the reels) than learn a language or read a book without checking your phone every five minutes. That is causing an overload of dopamine in your brain, the chemical usually responsible for motivation and the feeling of winning.

So if you do want to learn 14 languages and know a bunch of history and science and shit, just try to reduce time that you spend on reels and sit down every day to learn atleast one sentence in the language you want to learn or 5 pages of that history book you wanted to read so bad.

It might seem very tough in the beginning, but it gets better if you put in the effort.

[in-som-niyah]

You’ve been a blazing fire for hours now, pants and underwear are just too tight around your weeping pussy and aching abdomen. Every innocent drag of fabric on your clit sent shockwaves of need up your spine and through your body.

Ovulation week was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be cute. It was supposed to be filled with reading cheesy romance books and running your poor vibrator empty. Lately, you haven’t been able to get off good enough. Every orgasm felt father away from true satisfaction and only left you writhing in a new kind of pain.

Jason, who hasn’t been around for the past two weeks, has been playing on your mind recently. You don’t need him, you’ve got all the toys you need in your nightstand but there’s just something about him.

Somethings about his thick cock pulsing inside you as he splits you open ever so gently. No rushed movements, no harsh and meaningless thrusts, just deep and purposeful strokes that have you seeing stars every time he pushes his cock into you.

Of course you don’t have his contact information. Much less a last name or any general whereabouts or even his birthday. All you knew was his name, the shape of his lips on yours, and the print of his dick ruining every other future man for you.

It’s pathetic, the way you need him. You’re a smart girl, graduated university, working in the medical field, nursing program and everything. But still, you’ve been reduced as a needy mess for this guy who parades around in a red mask and a leather jacket, smells of gunmetal and pine, takes what he wants in the most gentlest way.

What the fuck was going on with you?

You found yourself praying to all powers that be that Jason decides to swing by tonight. Even just to patch up an injury like the last time you absolutely needed to be with him.

—————————————————————————

hey guys j asking if this would be something with continuing, it’s just an idea i had to link back to this post i made last year so lmk what u think and i’ll do my best to get back on it🫡

also is it just me who gets cramps when i’m ovulating, like ofc i’m a horny mess but this past cycle has been BRUTAL for me like it’s been so bad yall pray for my vibrator she is not having a good time rn

[chuellas]

Angel | He didn’t plan on having a traditional future with a marriage and a family but one surprise trip to your work has him second, maybe even triple, guessing himself.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!Reader, mentions of having children/pregnancy, slight identity crisis on Chuuya’s part, WC: 1.3k

A/N | Hello Tumblr people!! I am so excited to finally get to posting this fic. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day <3

The day started out just like any other day for Chuuya, waking up next to you still soundly asleep, making the two of you coffee and breakfast then sending you a text to wake up to as he left for work. He’s been lucky today, only having a short stack of paperwork to finish before heading out to the field. After checking in with a few of his subordinates, Chuuya decides to call it a day early. 

An exceptionally ordinary day for the Port Mafia executive. 

The ginger checks his watch and a grin graces his features when he realizes you should be getting out of work in about 20 minutes. He can easily make it to the clinic you work at before you get off. Usually he’ll text you that he’s coming to pick you up, but he figures today he’ll surprise you and what’s a surprise without a bouquet of your favorite flowers from one of your favorite local florists?

Chuuya makes it to your work in 15 minutes. With 5 minutes to spare, he parks his car. The executive strips himself of his jackets, trying to make himself present as if he has a more casual job then he does and walks into the clinic. 

This clinic isn’t somewhere Chuuya would usually frequent, each time he visits you he feels a bit awkward entering the building. You work as a pediatric nurse, so you see children all day every day. You’ve expressed how difficult it can be watching sick children coming in all day but you still love getting to help them and their parents, even if it’s just for a small visit. 

The executive makes it about 5 feet into the office building when he’s stopped in his tracks at the sight of you with a child, a little boy — he can’t be much older than 4, maybe 5, years old. You’re sat on the floor with him, playing some sort of made up game and something in the ginger’s chest stirs. 

Your smile is wider than usual, a sparkle in your eye as the little boy climbs into your lap, handing you a book with his small and chubby outstretched arms. You take the invasion of your personal space in stride as a soft laugh falls from your lips and you start reading to the young child. You’re so enthralled with the boy that you don’t even notice your boyfriend standing there, starstruck. 

The scene laid out in Chuuya makes his heart yearn. In his line of work having children is risky. Being with you alone is dangerous, if it weren’t for you being an ability user yourself, Chuuya never would have entertained a relationship with a civilian. But with a child… he’s not so arrogant that he would guarantee their safety when, realistically, he knows that’s not something he can assure. 

Logically, his brain is telling him that the two of you could never become parents. But that little voice in his head that’s gotten increasingly louder since he met you is practically screaming at him. The image of a small bundle of joy with your hair and his eyes flashes across his mind. Then there’s the thought of you pregnant with his child and that short circuits something inside of his brain. He's no longer thinking logically. 

Chuuya never thought he wanted that. He was okay - content even - with it only being the two of you for the rest of your lives. But now? seeing you with a child like this, how good you are with him, he’s no longer sure. 

You’ve never brought up the idea of marriage, let alone children. Chuuya just assumed you understood that’s just something he wouldn’t be able to give you. Or maybe even that you didn’t want that kind of life. But the mafia executive is plagued by images of you in an extravagant white dress, a swollen stomach and a child that’s the perfect blend of your genes with Chuuya’s. 

Oh.

The ginger is too far gone.

It’s not until your coworker, the receptionist, is greeting Chuuya that you notice him. Not a moment too soon either, Chuuya was spiraling in a direction he doesn't think he would recover from. The woman’s voice brings him back to reality as you look up from the picture book that has a cat on display. Your eyes are misty but you smile brightly at your boyfriend. 

You’re so breathtakingly gorgeous that Chuuya literally feels winded, like your smile stole his ability to breathe. 

You tilt your head curiously. “Couldn’t wait till I got off to see me?”

“Well, I was planning on it, but looks like you’ve been preoccupied.” The ginger squats down next to you and the little boy in your arms stirs, turning to eye the ginger suspiciously.

Your attention is brought back to the small child for a split second before your head is turning to look behind Chuuya as the clinic door loudly clicks open. You smile warmly and maneuver yourself up, somehow keeping the boy in your arms. A woman with the same green eyes as the boy walks in with a baby swaddled securely to her chest. 

You gently let the boy down and watch as he runs up to who Chuuya can only assume is his mother. The resemblance, even at such a young age, is uncanny. Once again Chuuya’s thoughts are brought back to what a child with you would look like. What features would he or she get? Hopefully they would get all of your personality and temperament. 

The ginger looks over to you as a way to subtly observe your features but what he sees makes his stomach sink and face drop. The look in your eyes is longing and Chuuya knows. You want children of your own. That’s not the look of someone who never wants children. 

You put on a tight smile as the woman speaks. “Thank you so much for watching him. say thank you to the nice nurse, natsu.”

The boy waves at you with his small and chubby hand. In a timid and quiet voice the boy thanks you and then waves as his mother guides him out of the clinic. You both watch the trio until the door shuts. 

“Oh my god- I didn’t realize my shift was over with already! Are you here to pick me up? I just need to finish entering something and then I'll be out, okay-?” You blush, catching yourself before you call Chuuya your usual term of endearment while still in a professional setting. “U-uhm… fifteen minutes max. I'll be out before you know it.”

The ginger’s face softens and he smiles at you lovingly. “You got it, Doll. Y’know where to find me.”

You smile back at him and nod. As you go to turn around, Chuuya grabs hold of your hand and stops you so he can bring it up to his mouth and place a tender kiss atop your knuckles. Your breath hitches and your shoulders tense for a moment. Your cheeks heat up and you quickly look around to find your coworker cooing at his display of affection. 

You let out a squeak and pull your hand back when the executive looks up to you. 

“Chuuya- I- You-” You let out a huff and frown at him, grabbing him and spinning him around then pushing his back. “Just- Go, I’ll meet you out there.”

Chuuya watches you with an amused smirk as you turn and scan your keycard to unlock the door. He waits until it’s shut to wave at the receptionist before heading back to the parking lot. 

His mind still lingers on what the future could truly hold for the two of you. He's seen plenty of his colleagues build happy lives outside of the mafia. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but chuuya’s starting to think maybe he could too. The two of you have made it this far, why not push the limits? 

The executive’s hand twitches and phone burns in his pocket. He's made the decision, there’s something he has to do. He waits to get into his car, but the moment he does, Chuuya is unlocking his phone and searching up engagement ring cuts and styles.

[angelsbless]

Hi angels i'm sorry for disappearing i'll try to respond to all the requests and post more often 🤍🤍

.

Trafalgar law x reader (hcs)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊

This man is the most tsundere man ever, he's literally bad at showing affection due to his past trauma and he's always scared of getting hurt or hurting the people he loves so he tends to keep his distance.

Acts of service and physical touch would be his love language. His touch is warm and gentle and he treats you like you are made of glass, he would blush if u initiate the PDA somewhere in public but he secretly likes it.

You'd find small gifts in your room with a note from him whenever he goes out because every time he buys you things that remind him of you, and he smiles to himself while imagining how happy you'd be when you receive it.

You'd remind him to eat and to not overwork himself because sometimes he gets so lost in his research and work, sometimes you end up reading a book by his side while enjoying each other's presence.

He is the type to blush A LOT when he says something sweet to you and tells you to STFU if you ask him to repeat.

You'd play with his messy soft hair, you're one of the few people that are allowed to touch it and he feels comfortable with it, seeing him without his hat makes your heart swell with affection it just makes him more soft and cute, he would smile at that every time and it makes him happy inside, your touch is so soothing to him so having you playing with his hair calms him and make him feel warm and safe.

A LOT of hugs from behind, you'd be just out there doing your work and suddenly you're somewhere private with law hugging you from behind, just hug him back please it's his way of recharging for the day, you're his only safe place and he is vulnerable around you so please don't turn him off.

Late night talk and a lot of deep conversations with him, it's his therapy session.

He'd suddenly open up to you about all of his thoughts and pain and he'd let everything out and once you reassure him enough because this man didn't wanna bother you with his pain, he thinks he should carry the darkness in his heart alone but once he met you you started to clear his heart and wash his pain away so when you guys do have this talk he'd hug you and sob because this man has been holding to himself for 20 years and he has finally found peace and love in you.

You're his home and safe place and he'd do anything to protect you.

He's such a sweetheart and even if it took him sometime to show it.

I love him so much he's the kindest, please treat him nicely <3

[baggebythesea]

So many good thoughts here, but I'm gonna zoom in on this one

Wendy throughout this whole movie is pretty much just the “I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now” meme

Because that captures my viewing experience of Peter and Wendy 2023 SO MUCH. Every Neverland story gives Wendy the choice between Neverland and London - staying a child or growing up. And she (almost) always chooses to go back and grow up, because that's how the story goes, but she's dearly tempted to stay.

But this adaption... I don't really get the impression that Wendy is all that eager to be in Neverland in the first case, let alone to stay. Apart from being a bit grumpy about boarding school in the beginning, and apart from having a bit of fun flying, she's pretty firmly on board the growing up train and even makes it her project to save the rest of the lost boys and girls from their eternal childhood. No wonder she and Peter don't get along all that much - they are ideologically opposed from the beginning.

Which brings me to something I thought was bit weird the first time I watched the movie, and which annoys me more the more I think of it.

Where are the mermaids?

Granted, I see why they might chose not to include them, because apart from their lagoon providing a scenic location and them setting up Tiger Lily being kidnapped in the book, they don't do all that much plotwise. But they do fulfill one very important thematic function: They are there, because Wendy want to see them. Neverland is a place where there are mermaids, and Peter bring her to them.

In the 2023 movie, there are no Mermaids, and we don't get the impression that Wendy would have been all that keen on experiencing that piece of childlike wonder anyway.

And... all things considered, Wendy choosing against Neverland almost from the moment she got there is not BAD per se, but it does set up a different dynamic than what we are used to. In her big scene when she is forced to walk the plank (and how I adore that they finally remembered that a girl who can fly might not be in all that much need of saving in circumstances like that) her happy thoughts are not about the childish things she might leave behind, but about the adult life she's about to embrace. Wendy has made her choice, and she has no more time for Peter's and Hook's childish games.

Only, that kinda begs the question what she even needs Neverland or Peter for. A nostalgic farewell to childhood? A last hurrah before bording school? A comment on her argument with her father before bedtime ("George Darling was right" is NOT the moral I expected from a Disney Peter Pan adaptation)? A chance to bring the lost boys and girls home? Is this a rescue mission? Are we supposed to read it as a tragedy and a failure when Peter and Hook reunite in the end? (I honestly like what the story does with their dynamic, but alas - their relationship is not all that relevant to Wendy, and this is HER story).

For reasons that elude me, the Disney Live Action Remakes seem to compete in which remake can be most pointless, but I must say I have rarely seen it embedded in the story to this extent before. Wendy doesn't seem to want Neverland. Wendy doesn't seem to need Neverland. And despite a lot of fun moments and gorgeous scenes (Tink covering the ship with pixie dust is such a power move!) and despite great actors, there is not much to take from this movie that hasn't been done better in other adaptations.

Still, I had a lot of fun, and I suppose that is all I need, in the end.

Peter Pan & Wendy (2023) - Thoughts

A little bit of brief background here; I’m a huge Peter Pan fan. I grew up loving the Disney animated film but the 2003 live action has always been the superior Peter Pan adaptation to me; Peter Pan holds a special place in my heart as my late nan who I was close with used to take me to the panto every Christmas, and my favourite ones were always Peter Pan.

So without further ado: I watched the new Disney’s Peter Pan & Wendy that came out on Disney+ this weekend!

First, some live watching thoughts:

This movie is literally carried by Ever Anderson as Wendy, like no disrespect to the other cast but she literally carried this film in my opinion

By the way, anyone complaining about it being Wendy’s story is an idiot because the story has ALWAYS been Wendy’s story, ever since Barrie wrote the play and novels. Regardless of which version you watch, it always starts with her lamenting about not wanting to grow up and ends with her acceptance of the fact she must grow up - it’s HER journey, her development.

I have no idea why Disney/Lowery chose to cast two separate actors as Mr Darling and Captain Hook but I’m NOT a fan of that choice. Even in the animated film, they’re voiced by the same actor - it’s a part of Peter Pan tradition to have the actor play both roles, so it’s baffling that it’s not the case here.

I really wish this film had spent a little bit more time BEFORE Peter arrived to show us more of each of the children and also the relationship between the children and their parents. The film opens with a nice little scene of John and Michael sword-fighting whilst Wendy prepares to head off to boarding school, and then she joins them and their father scolds her for “this is how you choose to spend your last night in the nursery” and “you’re too old for this sort of fun”, which definitely works… but it’s very quick paced and it rushed by so quickly, like the film kind of just spends only a few minutes establishing “Wendy is being sent to boarding school the next morning; she doesn’t want to grow up; her parents want her to be a better role model to her brothers” and that’s it.

Also interesting to note that Wendy is not in a nightgown in this version but some kind of pyjama-ish undergarment outfit, plus a dressing gown

Wendy aggressively reading a book in her bed… same though

Nana appears but only in brief moments 😭 WE DESERVED MORE NANA! In this version she’s kind of more just a pet - they never mention that she’s the Darling family’s nursemaid and looks after the children, and there’s a brief flash where (I think) you see a young Wendy cuddling her as a puppy… like??? She’s not just a dog, she is not just a pet, she is the finest nursemaid on four paws because the Darlings can’t afford to hire one.

“I want things to stay the way they are.” “Perhaps I don’t want to grow up.” — same, Wendy, same

“Just imagine all of the things you would miss out on if you didn’t see where it took you… and all the things the world would miss if you weren’t there to do them.”

Mrs Darling’s lullaby was lovely by the way

Yara Shahidi as Tinkerbell is BEAUTIFUL. I love her facial expressions, and even though there’s less attitude and she’s not jealous in this version, I still love her

I know that the film was supposed to film in 2020 but Covid shut things down so they didn’t film until a whole year later, and obviously children grow very quickly… but Peter’s voice is so deep in this version, you can tell Alexander Molony hit puberty during lockdown. I feel bad for criticizing a kid about it because it’s not his fault, but it can’t be denied that he’s older than Peter is supposed to be. Ever Anderson was also 13-14 when filming actually happened, and while it’s slightly less glaringly obvious with her, she’s definitely a tiny bit older than most versions of Wendy. I think it’s more obvious with Alexander though because of the deep voice.

This version makes it seem like Mrs Darling is the storyteller and Wendy isn’t, which kind of bugs me to be honest but oh well

Let’s be honest, no adaptation will ever top the “Flying” scene from the 2003 version - that was a whole masterpiece in itself. This version does do a nice enough job though, all things considered, even if the CGI doesn’t always look quite right

I don’t want to slam how Neverland looks because I’m aware it was filmed in Newfoundland in Canada, which I don’t doubt is a beautiful place - what I will say is that I don’t know if there was some kind of ultra real gritty filter added on it if it’s something else, but to me it just wasn’t colourful enough. Neverland is supposed to be magical and vibrant and like a dream, not 100% rigidly realistic. They could have made Skull Rock shaped at least somewhat like a skull for God’s sake, just as an example

“Smee, make a note my cabin needs a new door.” “Yes… might I say, captain, that’ll be your third door this month-“ “and it won’t be the last.” — okay, I had a little giggle here, I won’t lie

Jude Law’s version of Hook has heterochromia which is definitely interesting - I wonder why it was included though, like what purpose does it serve the story

Wendy meeting the Lost Boys changed from Tink telling the boys to shoot her out of the sky and them nearly murdering her, to her washing up alone and running into them and Tiger Lily, which is definitely a choice

AHHHHH TIGER LILY SPEAKING CREE, SHE IS ALSO LITERALLY A PRINCESS IN EVERY SINGLE WAY LIKE HOW SHE SPEAKS AND CARRIES HERSELF

I am genuinely still on the fence about the Lost Boys including girls but at the end of the day… whatever. It’s not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. I still find the “but you’re not all boys” “SO?!?” exchange cringey though, not gonna lie

Wendy’s response to the above being “well I guess it doesn’t really matter”, so true

I think it’s a good thing that the Lost Boys include non white and disabled kids (Slightly has Down syndrome) but also I really hope those kids stay off social media for a while because the absolute nastiness being flung around about them (especially Slightly) is disgusting

The Lost Boys being like “she’s too old” “she’s too grown up” 💀 that and Mrs Darling’s “darling, you barely fit in your bed” comment feel oddly meta and about the actors growing while filming was delayed

Wendy Moira Angela Darling realising her brothers have been captured by pirates: “…oh dear” 💀 the timing of it was perfect though lmao

Tell me that Smee did not just use the phrase “compatriots of you-know-who” in front of a man who played Dumbledore 💀

John: We don’t care about your rules, we came with Peter Pan! // the entire pirate crew eavesdropping outside: *groaning/gasping*

PIRATE SEA SHANTIES FTW

Peter Pan really disappears from this movie at about 20 minutes in (after appearing for the first time only 10 minutes beforehand) and doesn’t reappear until a whole 15 minutes later?!?

“I’ve found you guilty of being a child - and we can’t have children in Neverland” — IS HE FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?!? (Hook was in fact deadly serious)

NOT TEDDY LOSING AN ARM 😭

Who the hell did Peter think he was tricking with that absolutely terrible disguise, it looks like stuck a mop on his chin for god’s sake?!?

Wendy being shocked that Peter is showing off as if that isn’t his whole personality summed up 😶

“Oh brother, Hook’s singing again” - I CACKLED IM SORRY

“Proud and insolent youth, have at me!” — I GASPED I TELL YOU, GASPED

PETER AND HOOK’S SHADOWS HAVING THEIR OWN SWORD FIGHT OH MY GOOOOODDDDDD

“Oh, Wendy… you’re still alive!” ASDFGHJKL

OH HOOK PLAYED DIRTY AND HE SAID HE LEARNED HIS BAD FORM FROM PETER DIXNDMALZPZOZL WHAT IS GOING ON

“For to die would be an awfully big adventure” - THAT’S THE MONEY LINE RIGHT THERE

“SHE’S A WENDY!!!”, and all that ran through my mind was the Barbie meme:

Wendy finishing Hook’s sentences and cutting him off each time ASDFGHJKL we love a know it all

AHHHH ITS TICK TOCK THE CROC, I was so scared they’d forget about the crocodile so I’m happy he’s here

THE SEQUENCE WITH THE MUSIC AS HOOK IS RUNNING AWAY FROM THE CROC ASDFGHJKL COMEDY GOLD

WENDY FUCKING SLAPPED PETER ACROSS THE FACE AND IT DID A MOVIE MAKER CIRCLE FADE OUT ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WTAF-

“It was an adventure, wasn’t that what you wanted?” “Yes but I didn’t think it meant being shot out of the sky by pirates” — yeah, that’s a valid point I guess

Poor Tinkerbell just twinkling and getting absolutely ignored :/

“You have a magical fairy that makes you fly! And a gaggle of children that do your bidding with a princess that cleans up your messes while you’re off gallivanting with pirates” — OOF, also Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily both smiling and nodding their agreement of Wendy’s words asdfghkl love to see girls supporting girls

Wendy throughout this whole movie is pretty much just the “I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now” meme

You’re telling me the Lost Boys hideout is no longer hidden in a tree but a GIANT tower?!? Not exactly hidden now, is it?!?

Wendy and Tiger Lily together having one of the best scenes in this movie, you love to see it ❤️

So what I’m getting from this adaptation is that instead of the Lost Boys actually getting “lost” and not claimed, Peter waits for them to say “I don’t want to grow up” then whooshes in and brings them to Neverland…

Okay so Wendy is still kind of seen as the storyteller in this version…? The kids ask her for stories so…?

“Wendy can be our mother” “goodness no! I don’t even know if I want to be a mother!” — I have thoughts about this??? On the one hand, I’m a book purist and for me I’m like “she does agree to be their mother tho??? That’s why she was brought to Neverland???” (And also she canonically has a daughter called Jane) but on the other I’m like “fair enough” because a) she’s a child and b) you can’t force people to have children if they don’t want them. Idk

Im 90% sure Wendy’s hair changed from a side parting to a middle parting at some point but I don’t know where or when it happened

Wendy singing a lullaby, which is actually a nice callback to her singing “Your Mother and Mine” in the animated film

You’re telling me Hook and the pirates have never found their huge ass tower hideout and that Wendy’s gentle singing was loud enough to reach the pirates and alert them of their location?!?

JAMES?!? As in Hook?!?

“It’s a kiss - I made it for you” — ITS AN ACORN NECKLACE IM-

Peter and Hook used to be best friends?!? Hook was the first lost boy in this version?!? Lowery doing his own canon at this point, oh my god

This film really missed a trick, like it could have really heavily leaned into the dark side of Peter Pan with the whole “you must never leave” stuff he says 👀

This film really wanted to be the 2003 version so bad, like the moment where Peter walks away after their conversation about Neverland not being what she expected and Wendy calls “Peter!”… it wanted to be the Fairy Dance scene WAY too bad

Imagine walking down their stairs into a room, turning around and seeing your brothers/the whole gang of lost boys tied up and gagged 😳

Hook saying Wendy’s full name and later dragging his hook over the door was creepy ngl

HE JUST SLASHED PETER ACROSS THE CHEST

“Captain Hook… I don’t think I like this adventure” *falls down 20 feet* — EXCUSE ME???

You’re telling me Peter survived a) a slash to the chest and b) a 20 foot drop?!? I mean I know he’s magical and all but…?!?

Eyyy Tiger Lily to the rescue, the women truly run this film

“Then listen… *hums awkwardly*” - I genuinely can’t tell if this film is supposed to be this weirdly hilarious or not

Mr Smee was the one who found Hook and rescued him, I’m-

“This is what growing up looks like.” “No. This is what it looks like when you grow up wrong.” - OOF

HOOK SNAPPING WHEN SMEE CALLED HIM JAMES 😭

“Execute every last one of them” sounds so much worse than “become a pirate or walk the plank” like sir all they did was be kids who haven’t managed to hit puberty yet and you’ve got them all screaming like they’re about to be mass murdered (which they are) 💀

Wendy offering herself instead, “they’re only children, let them live!” - ma’am you are also a child?!?

“Let them live, they’ll be good pirates - especially those two” (meaning John and Michael)… I love Wendy stepping up and looking out for her brothers, especially given at the beginning of the film she full on blamed them for the whole mirror situation

Peter being super injured and unable to fly so Tiger Lily has to help him 🥹

Why does this pirate shanty as Wendy walks the plank actually slap hard though?!?

Tinkerbell lifting her little prison up and smashing Smee on the head so she can help Wendy, we love to see it

The fact that Wendy thinks happy thoughts stepping off the plank and it’s not just her childhood memories anymore (like in the flying to Neverland scene)??? She imagines growing up and the things she could do if allowing herself to grow up?!? 😭

The utter silence after she steps off the plank followed by Hook being like “… hang on, there was no splash?!?”

Tinkerbell damn near used every single bit of fairy dust in existence just to lift up the ship and play what is essentially a huge joke on the pirates is such legend behaviour lmao

“You have the boy’s magic.” “No, this magic belongs to no boy!” — HELL YEAH WENDY YOU ARE ALWAYS THE MAIN CHARACTER

I’ll be honest, for a film where Peter is billed first he has done VERY little besides a small duel, get stabbed and nearly die twice

The depressed pirate who goes “well wake me up before one of them kills the other… again” is such a mood lmfao same

It’s interesting that it’s Wendy with the flight skills as she fights and Peter without the flying I guess??

Wendy and Tiger Lily are literally saving every single other character’s asses at this point, like they’re the only reason anything has happened in this film

Rotating the entire ship was not something I thought I’d ever see and yet here we are

Peter falling off the upside down ship and Wendy catching him?!? And the fairy dust rubbing off onto him??? (Literally what even has Peter done in this film I feel bad for saying it but…)

I kind of like the idea that Peter and Hook intentionally don’t kill each other because both of them live for their battles and it’s almost like a game, a cycle, that Neverland lives off of? Idk if that makes sense lol

“Oh captain… Grow up.” - I CHOKED SHE GAGGED HIM

Peter grabbing Hook by the hook so he won’t fall and saying “I’ve got you James, just think happy thoughts”…???

“Peter… I haven’t got any…” AND THEN HE FALLS, DETATCHED FROM HIS HOOK?!? I KNEW HE DIDNT ASDFGHJKL BUT LIKE THIS?!?

I’ve literally only just realised that the Teddy has a fork as a prosthetic arm 💀

“It’s time to get these lost boys home” - what she REALLY means is “let’s take them back to my place and I’ll tell my parents I’ve adopted ten children on their behalf” 💀😂 that part always makes me laugh in any adaptation/version of the story, I won’t lie

So basically no time has passed in the real world while they’ve been in Neverland? No Mr and Mrs Darling keeping the window open for when their children return???

“Boy… why are you crying?” - IM SHAKING, CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP I HAVE CHILLS

You’re telling me Peter lived in the exact same house as Wendy as her brothers???? That’s why he kept returning to that house, not because Wendy believed strongly in him or he liked her stories but because it was his old home?? 😶

“I’m just a story, told to any child who’ll listen” - oof true. Kids today don’t really know Peter Pan anymore, which is super sad - they know Tink but they’re not as familiar with Peter Pan these days

“You know, Peter… after all this… I think that to grow up… why, it might just be the biggest adventure of all. Just think of all of the things that could be right around the corner that you’re missing out on. Think of what the world is missing out on with you not being there to do them.” 👏👏👏

THE SHIP LITERALLY RIPPED THE CHIMNEY OFF GOOD LUCK PAYING FOR THAT GEORGE

Wendy crying as she says goodbye to Tink 😭 “and please don’t forget about me”

WENDY BEING ABLE TO HEAR TINKERBELL SPEAK ASDFGHJKL BEAUTIFUL… “thank you for hearing me” - I DONT CARE, THATS SO POETIC???

Wendy carving her name under Peter’s so now it says “Peter Pan + Wendy” 😭

Hook is still alive?!? I don’t know why I’m so shocked at this point lol

The way Hook and Pan smiled at each other when Peter returned, oh boy here we go again

The end credit animations are so pretty omg

So, overall… it’s not the worst Disney remake. It’s truly not that bad, at least not enough to warrant racist morons bombing it with one star reviews. It’s definitely not a patch on the 2003 version, at least not in my opinion - that one will always reign superior, at least to me.

Some things:

I definitely feel like this film was carried by Ever Anderson as Wendy, she literally did the most and seemed the most well suited for her part overall

Jude Law was actually better than I thought he would be as Hook, Jason Isaacs is still my favourite but Jude is alright

I think Alexander Molony had the right spirit, I just think that he wasn’t given all that much to do and also it was very noticeable that he was on the cusp of adulthood already. Had the film been filmed when intended and not delayed, I think his performance would have come across better

The other kids and the pirates were super fun too, but not really given a lot to do either, which is sad. Would have loved to see more of Jim Gaffigan as Smee though

Yara Shahidi as Tinkerbell and Alyssa Wapanatahk as Tiger Lily were also amazing and big standouts, shoutout to them both!

Mentioned this above but will mention it again: I don’t understand what the point of casting a separate actor to play Mr Darling was. Yes, as I mentioned, there’s the dual casting thing - but also Mr Darling was in this film so little that there was zero sense in hiring a whole other actor to do the part??? He’s literally got a total of like one and a half minutes screentime?!?

Putting the crocodile in just the one single time was a fucking crime, I tell you! Why was he only in one single scene?!? 🐊

The CGI wasn’t the worst I’ve seen but it definitely could have been a bit better

Here’s the thing: the original animation was 1h21 and this one is 1h46… and yet this one felt way more rushed for some reason? It’s like the film hits the basic plots, like ticking them off, but doesn’t actually embellish or explore them properly. It’s just so rushed and the film suffers for it

I truly think this film would have benefited from letting us get to know the Darling children even better at the beginning before Peter arrived, because the most developed of the three is Wendy and all we know about her is she’s going to boarding school and her parents want her to be a better role model/set a better example for her brothers. All we know about John and Michael is that they’re Wendy’s brothers and they like to play fight - they don’t really feel like proper characters, they’re literally just there

I’m still waiting for a Peter Pan adaptation to just bite the bullet and give us that flash forward of Peter visiting an older Wendy, meeting Jane and taking Jane to Neverland - the 2003 version did film it but it’s deleted and the special effects aren’t done on it (you can watch it online but still)

I want to know where in Barrie’s text it says Wendy wanted to become an airplane pilot or that she actually fulfilled that ambition… ?!?!

The soundtrack was good - not the masterpiece that James Newton Howard’s is but still pretty good

Overall, I’d give it a 6/10 maybe. It wasn’t the worst Pan movie or adaptation out there but it’s not the best either, at least in my opinion. It IS one of the better Disney remakes though, and if it had been a bit longer and had a better budget then I’d say it should have had a theatrical release because the cinematography is STUNNING. It’s just that it very much feels like they rushed the story and had a smaller budget than hoped for.

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[bunabi]

You don't have to respond to this, I just don't have anyone irl who likes DA as much as me, but as a big fan of Origins I keep hoping for the next game to scratch an itch for me and with each game I get further and further from what I'm looking for. The in depth character backgrounds (that had real impact on the game!), the combat (it turns out I lothe RTS unless it's DAO but for some reason I love DAO's combat so much), and the impact of your choices are all things that seem to diminish with each game. I also agree with your frustration at not being able to be mean, I'm usually a goodie two shoes in games but my favorite Warden was one I made pragmatic and comfortable with authority to a dangerous degree because the brutal choices in Awakening result in the best outcomes for Ferelden. Plus even if you prefer the kind choices, you can't make choices unless you're given them. Luckily there's BG3 and Avowed coming out but it still feels like such a loss every time a new DA is released.

I wanna respond because you raise good points. 😔👍🏿

I feel the same way. I'm ride-or-die for Thedas as a world — the lore is easy to jump into and the amount of half-truths makes speculation really fun — but the games have strayed further and further from my personal tastes.

No DA entry is the same in its approach or execution, so I think having mixed opinions is completely natural.

Compared to Mass Effect which sticks to it's formula pretty closely from ME1 to Andromeda, DA is constantly changing. I think it could have benefited from more consistency. I understand why that wasn't always possible.

You're allowed to be disappointed or wistful or critical without it being construed as like...giving ammunition to bozos or tearing the developers down.

If we can't discuss those things what are we supposed to do? Sit in a circle pretending those features never mattered lol? That I never liked having more roleplay freedom, never liked companion relationships having more tension, never cared about tactics? No I don't think I will.

And I say this while fully accepting DAV for what it is. Even if I wasn't blessed with a code from EA I had every intention of playing it myself. I bought the art book. I've done two zines this year and contributed to two more. My career revolves around making art directly inspired by Inquisition's. Haven't read all the comics & books but I'm as 'hardcore' as it gets.

Me, of all people, being called a fake fan for wanting blood magic or not feeling the character model proportions shows how emotionally charged and unhinged things have gotten

All that to say: I think the best way to be a fan of anything is to acknowledge the good and the bad and let others do the same. So long as those conversations are in good faith there's nothing to lose and everything to gain fr.

[theonlymanny]

Bruce Wayne x Batdad Reader!

Being Bruce’s husband wasn’t as easy as you thought there were a lot of difficulties in your life while being married to him.But it was all good he loved and you loved him. Simply as that, you guys met because you where a famous singer and met at one of his galas.

At first he was all flirty and honoring his playboy persona. You didn’t show any interest at first because who doesn’t flirt with M/n. But Bruce was kind of charming and really nice. Beside everything you heard from him. And then you woke beside him in bed. “Oh my fucking-” anyway- let’s leave that behind.

After that night you thought he would leave you like it never happened and keep going on with his life, but surprisingly he invited you on a date. A couple years later you met Alfred a really nice person and enjoyed your company. And all of that disappeared because your 5 year boyfriend left you without a word for 10 fuckin years.

“Hey Alfred have you heard from Bruce I didn’t see him today” “oh master M/n… I thought you knew…” after that you promised to never trust anyone that easily, sure it affected you but you weren’t going to stop and be miserable. You decided to take out some new songs.

“M/N is back!” Your fans were going crazy! Everybody thought you quit the music career and left. And… Bruce well not like he didn’t care about you he just wanted to make a change. He was training to protect you and Alfred. And then he was there your “boyfriend” you were spending time with Alfred. You weren’t going to leave him alone for 10 whole years!

“H- hi umm…” Bruce looked at you. He looked much muscular and old… “ Alfred I think I should go…” you took your things and while you were about to open the door Bruce grabbed your hand. “Don’t you-” “please let me explain…” you lost right there “what Bruce!? Explain that you left me for 10 years!” Bruce was shocked. He remembered you much calmer and shy.

You let him explain why he leaved you. Because you were still young you gave him another opportunity. Some years later you met Richard or Dick who you protected with your life and refused to let him be robin. “Sweetheart please…” you refused to look at him “Bruce it’s too dangerous for a literal kid to be fighting grown ass men or women who want to hurt him!” Dick heard your discussion somewhat regretting he asked Bruce to be his sidekick. You saw Dick on the corner wanting to cry… “oh… Richard why are you crying?” “I’m sorry… I didn’t want you to fight I I- just wanted to help.” You sighed “I’m not sure if I’m going to regret this but… I guess you can go help Bruce…” Bruce smiled and Dick celebrated and hugged you. “Thank you!” You looked at Bruce and said darkly“Bruce if something happens you are going to regret being Batman” Bruce only laughed and hugged both of you.

After some years Dick grew older and became a teenager. “Hey Dick what do you want to eat today?” Dick really grew trust in you that he called you dad first than Bruce. “Dunno dad maybe some pancakes??” And while Dick and Bruce were patrolling Bruce found Jason a young boy trying to steal the Batmobile’s tires.

Jason really liked you he had a better relationship with you then Bruce or Dick. He would often ask you to read him books. It was like that until that day… Joker captured Jason. “hey Bruce!” When you went to the bat cave you only found Dick and Bruce. “Where’s Jason?” You were more then devastated when he died.

You and Bruce barely spoke, Dick tried to make you both love each other again, but he couldn’t even make you both sleep in the same bed. After 1 or 2 years Bruce decided to adopt another kid. Tim. That’s when you started thinking about divorce.

“Really!? Another kid you wanna harm this one too?” You started loosing respect from Bruce, but there was nothing you could do he was so stubborn.

In those years that Tim became and trained to be a robin. You also trained… to kill the guy that took your son. You learned how to use every weapon you had on your use, you where stronger and faster, and learned a lot of fight movements.

The day you heard your third son was captured… you didn’t let Bruce handle this. You went there by yourself with a shotgun,gun, rifle, a lot of more utensils that would help you get your son back.

The building was quiet there was no sign of life but only lifeless body’s all around you opened the door and automatically shot the Joker on his knee. “Aaaaaaaaah!” He screamed in agony while watching you above him. “Tim… go.” Tim looked at you and before he left he hugged you. “It will be okay…” after you made sure he left you grabbed a metal pipe and left the Joker on a wall. “Hahahahahahah! Let me guess you are going to kill me! WOW I’m so scared!” You looked at him angrily and hit him with the metal pipe. “ SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He spat blood all over the floor. “Batsy is not gonna let you kill me” he laughed quietly. “Well guess what… I will make sure he doesn’t interfere. And I my self will make sure you don’t take anyone else’s kid again” Joker looked confused but then realized. “You are robins Dad! Batman’s husband!” That name hurted you… “well guess what it was so fun I don’t regret it.” He was pushing your limits. You started breathing loudly and one by one you killed the man that killed your kid.

————————————————————————

Hey yall! I think this was my longest post but I hope y’all like it. I leaved a tlou reference In there. That’s all! There might be part 2 tho.

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [6]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 6.9k

If you weren't able to catch the author's note, update will be very slow due to my campus enrolling us to a government extracurricular that spans for three months so updates with be VERY slow until then. Sorry this one took long, had to remove one chunk out of this chapter so I could have it posted as soon as I could. Also ik the last chapter's ending was so rushed, I'll try to fix it once I get the time so for now, ignore that mess ;-;

EDIT: plenty of details edited out but nothing too important, also fixed a few mistakes.

Please vote Jimin in Visa Choice in MAMA voting and push Namseok to the top 10 for Fan's Choice award! STREAM I'LL BE THERE

<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>

________

“Noona, please… Just turn around…”

“I would if I could, but I'm at my limit here!”

“I will break your fingers if you don’t move.”

“Try it and I’ll tell Namjoon you were the one who spilled alcohol on the book he was reading the other day!”

“Just turn around damn it!”

“I already am! I'm not gonna take a fucking peak!”

You're living through a nightmare.

Never in your life did you think working as a make-up artist for an up-and-rising boy idol group would eventually lead you to where you are now; with half of your body out of the bathroom with an arm stretched inside to hold Jimin’s hand that's also reaching out for yours while he stands in front of the toilet.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists doing, holding onto one of the member’s hands while he’s in the bathroom exactly?

Soulbond strain, that’s what the doctor had said. That's what caused the constant fatigue you and Jimin were feeling yesterday which eventually caused you both to pass out from exhaustion. Due to how ill-informed they are of both your marks, they weren't aware of how fragile your new bond was and how much touching should be involved for the first few days.

So now, you are sentenced—sentenced because having to hold your soulmate's hand while you piss, and eventually, shower and shit is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you—to nonstop skinship with Jimin for a week. Though after a few days, your body could withstand not holding his hand for almost a minute and you hoped it goes past an hour when the week finally ends.

Today marks the last day you both will be confined to the hospital as they've finally cleaned up one of the spare rooms in the dorm so you could move in.

You were so glad you could finally eat something more nutritious than bland soup. It should be a talent to be able to cook a soup so tasteless it would even make a white person frown despite the numerous vegetables and meat on them.

Since Jungkook's Birthday, you found yourself more often than not staring at the ceiling after eating, dreaming about eating other food so intensely it's like you could taste them in your buds.

A few days have passed since you found out you were soulmates with your best friends but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it.

The thought that these five—possibly seven depending on Seokjin and Hoseok’s test results later today—down to earth, aphrodite-blessed men with even more beautiful traits were tethered to you is bizarre. The idea never fails to short-circuit your brain every time you think about it. 

And it's hard not to, not when you wake up sleeping next to the peaceful face of South Korea’s IT boy—with his arms wrapped around you and his head nuzzled under your chin; Its something you’re still trying to get used to as you’ve never dared to sleep while cuddling with your friends, no matter how tired you might be. It was far too intimate of an act, reserved for those who are romantically involved and for someone with feelings as fickle as yours back then, it was inappropriate.

Not that it mattered much now but it's still difficult to be comfortable with the domesticity of it all.

Save for Taehyung and Seokjin, everyone else has continued working, although you had advised a weary looking Hoseok to take a break, he insisted that he's fine whilst practically dragging himself out of the room. Namjoon had assured you that he'll watch over his hyung but you had threatened Yoongi for extra measures. 

Speaking of work, your friends have been blowing up your phone since Jungkook's birthday, asking why they were required to sign a whole different NDA and you told them about your soulmates. 

All of them reacted positively, Minhyuk had even pleaded to hear about how you discovered and had asked to be informed of all the latest happenings, from the courting, dates, and even the bedroom—something you had promised to hit him for once you're back to work.

But for now, you were stuck with a foot out of the bathroom and body turned to the opposite with an arm stretched far out to hold Jimin's hand as he finished his business. 

So far, there's been no accidental flashing, to which you've been thankful for. The whole ordeal is already awkward as it is with only having to hear each other pee.

Jimin couldn’t even jokingly flirt with you the whole time, far too mortified with the idea of both parties being able to hear the stream of piss to even bother coming up with jokes to lighten up the situation, nor could you dare look into his eyes after the first few times you both had to go through this. You had refrained from eating too much in fear of having to shit during the week but you knew it would eventually happen.

Especially since you both have been greenlit to eat take outs and Seokjin had generously offered to buy you both food—bless that wonderful, handsome man—and dragged Taehyung out with him. 

You had been hesitant to make a few demands at first because do you even deserve the kindness Seokjin is showing you after hurting him for years? But the man proved himself devoted once more when he listed down the food you’ve been craving desperately for without hearing it from your lips.

(Tae had joked that maybe it's the soulmate mark manifesting a little late and Jimin elbowed him for that.)

You didn’t even get to tell him not to bother when he began to loudly chant gibberish as he pulled Taehyung out of the room with him.

After all the babying and princess treatment you've been receiving in the short time of knowing you were soulmates, it's hard not to feel frustrated having your best friends become your beck and call when they—save for Yoongi—hadn't been doing so for the past few years. It was somewhat pressuring that you could ask Jungkook to brush his teeth and immediately drink orange juice and he'd do it without question, if not gargling the juice for a little while longer just because you asked him to do it. 

From living alone and getting used to doing things by yourself, to suddenly having five people who'd follow your whims almost blindly, was overwhelming and slowly becoming more annoying than it is helpful.

If it wasn't for the guilt from getting irritated, you would've blown up on the first day when most of your soulmates had refused to let you stand up and walk around the room in fear of having you collapse.

Sure you had passed out from the soulbond strain but that same bond rendered you invulnerable to most things, you're not about to die walking around the room with Jimin, Yoongs.

You couldn't fault Jungkook and Tae for wanting to baby you. Jungkook never had someone to pamper and spoil, and Taehyung only had Jungkook; Even then, it wasn't in a romantic way and Jungkook was also being taken care of by the others so he didn't need to do much. His ex and him didn't last long enough for when BTS’ fame had skyrocketed and he had more money than he could ever spend in his life and is quickly running out of things to spend it on.

Still, it was hard to take all the coddling. It was better when they treated you with the distance platonic relationships had granted you.

The sound of a zipper broke through the awkward atmosphere before the flush of the toilet came. With a tug on your hand, you stepped back into the bathroom to follow Jimin to the sink so he could wash his hand, eyes still refusing to meet.

God, how did a friendship where he could literally strip off to his underwear in front of each other could turn so awkward like this?!

After spraying his hands with an overloading amount of alcohol—”Noona that’s overkill, I’ve already washed my hands.” “That’s just water, I’m not letting you touch me with a hand only washed with water!”— you and Jimin returned to the bed, huddled next to each other as you both scrolled on social media with both your bare legs thrown over his.

There's been comments left on your instagram page asking for Jimin's health and you decided to reply to one comment to say that he's fine and recovering. Silencing the app, you move to twitter when the door suddenly opens and in comes Seokjin holding up two plastic bags of takeout, flexing them as if they were golden medals and you sit up.

“Your handsome savior has arrived with fries and actually good food!”

“Hi noona!” Taehyung greets as he steps out of Jin's shadow.

“Jin you're actually the most good looking man I've ever seen in this forsaken planet, did you get me cheese and sour cream flav—”

“Of course I did,” He scoffed, putting down two paper bags and one drink carrier on your bedside table before placing the rest on the table near the bathroom door. “Who do you think I am?!”

“He almost ordered it all in cheese until I reminded him that you wanted sour cream too, noona.” Taehyung chimes in with a grin as he closes the door, a hand hidden behind his back while he holds a covered cup in the other. 

Seokjin snapped his head towards him with an indignant ‘Ya!’, to which Tae only giggled at.

“You bought that heinous, god awful sweet tea with my money! How could you do this to me?!”

“I offered to pay but you—”

“WITH MY MONEY!”

Everyone only laughed and Jin trudged over with Jimin’s lunch in hand, offering it with an outreached arm and he took it. At least, he tried to. Jin suddenly raised his hand over his head. You watched as Jin continuously teased Jimin whose reach is limited due to the need to be holding your hand. 

Jimin then finally got a grip on the plastic bag’s bottom and suddenly, their fishing game became a tug of war.

“Wait wait wait! You're going to tear it! It's going to spill!”

“Just fucking give it to me, hyung!” Jimin grunt, tugging one last time and the side of the bag rips, immediately Jin lets go.

“Why would you pull that hard?!”

Jimin ignored him in favor of pulling out his container, which he realized is overwhelmingly little compared to your three packages.

“Hyung!” He screams with his bottom lip jut out, dragging out the word. “How come I only have one food package? I'm also a patient, you know?!”

“You didn't request anything.” Jin says nonchalantly, shrugging.

“We've been together for years hyung! You should've known what I wanted like you did noona! This is blatant favoritism hyung!”

Seokjin ignored him, handing you a large bowl of mixed flavored fries, a large boba tea, and a plastic container where an aroma of caramelized fried chicken is leaking out of it the moment it leaves the paper bag. Next to you, Jimin scoffed, incredulous as he crossed his arms.

“She gets fried chicken, fries and boba but I only get Jajangmyeon?!” 

Once again, he ignored the younger man, rolling his eyes as Taehyung bounds up to his disgruntled best friend to reveal the half occupied half empty paper beverage carrier hidden behind his back, grinning widely as Jimin’s face morphs into disbelieving betrayal.

“Wow, so this is how we do things now, huh? I can’t believe you’d do this to me when I’m a patient!” 

“I’m so sorry, you poor poor thing.” Taehyung pouts as he offers out the food and Jimin spared no time in swiping the bag from him.

With their bicker finally coming to an end and Taehyung comfortably sitting crossed legs at the foot of you and Jimin’s bed, you turned to your food.

After eating nothing but bland, runny soup since the night at Jungkook’s birthday, tasting the cheddar almost made you tear up. You had taken advantage of the privilege of tasting far too long, being able to finally ingest something else felt euphoric, as if you were given the chance to walk through the garden of eden.

Exaggerated much but it's the only way you could explain the feeling.

Wasting no more time, you dug into the french fries bowl. 

You hear Seokjin whisper something underneath his breath, sounding incredulous. You watched as he crossed over to Taehyung and snatched his cup, ignoring the younger man’s indignant yelp and took a sip.

Instantly, the mixed taste of cheddar and sour cream was washed away by the familiar taste of Taehyung’s heinous tea preference of illegal amounts of tea and milk. The harsh difference of the three flavors along with the texture of fries gliding on your tongue makes you gag. Your soulmates react, Jimin placing his food down to place his cupped hands under you as if trying to catch your puke while Tae flinches, about to reach over until he sees his brother already positioned to help you and turns to fetch you a glass of water instead.

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.”

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.” You mimic in a tone far too high to be his and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

“I’m sorry I’m getting cranky after someone disrupted me eating—” Your words abruptly end as Jin suddenly surged in to hug you.

You look at Taehyung who’s staring longingly at his tea still in Jin’s grasp behind you before turning to a similarly perplexed Jimin mid-bite of his tteokbokki. Raising an eyebrow at him, he responds with a shrug before continuing to stuff food into his mouth.

But as you rested both hands on his shoulders, Jin suddenly sniffled.

“Jin?”

Alert, you gently push him off and your eyes meet with his misty pairs, matched with a teary smile stretching plush red lips. Your heart leapt to your throat as both his hands cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead in under a second. But instead of getting a seizure or being struck with an overwhelming amount of pain, nothing happened.

Instead a warm feeling, akin to what the rest of your soulmates caused you, wrapped around you like a thick blanket and you froze.

Then, Jin stands with an excited yip and excused himself out of the room, leaving you and the others confused.

What?

You didn't need to look at Jimin or Tae to know they all had huge question marks hanging over their heads as they stared at where they last saw their hyung disappear out of the room.

Why didn't your body react from having someone kiss your forehead while your bonds were still unsettled? From what you've read, there's always a chance of it happening, yet even if your relationship with him stretched over years, there shouldn't be any reason why he's not causing you and Jimin pain.

Unless he's also a soulmate.

Immediately you were reminded of the time he had carried you and wondered why no one ever questioned why nothing fatal had happened when he had done that in the DFA. Even if it had everyone in a flurry of panic, someone should've noticed and questioned it right? Yoongi should have at least.

There was also that one time Hoseok had held your hand in the car, it was brief but it should've done something still with a Nexus bond as complicated and huge as yours. Yet like with Seokjin, nothing happened.

“What did I just watch?” Taehyung began and you wish you had the answer. “Did I just witness my soulmate get stolen by Seokjin hyung?”

“No,” Jimin says, eyes thoughtful as he looks at you before turning to the bathroom door. “I think we just discovered that hyung is also tethered to her.”

Both your head snapped to the man next to you.

In the small amount of time you stared at your soulmate, the pieces began to click as the cogs in your mind whirs with all the possibilities before it took you back to the moment the horrendous taste of Taehyung's tea violated your tongue. Your mouth falls into an ‘o’.

“Shared Tastebuds.” You mutter.

Jimin opens his mouth to ask you to elaborate when Seokjin reenters with a doctor following behind him, red faced but the blinding wide smile he wore was enough to make you forget he was crying not a second before. The doctor next to him looked ecstatic, eyes a little crazy at the newfound discovery.

“Congratulations, it seems that also Mr. Kim here is a part of your Nexus bond!” He says a little cheerily as he hugs the clipboard close to his chest. “It would do you all well to inform the rest of the group of this finding. From a professional standpoint, I do think that Mr. Jung has a huge chance of also being a part of your Nexus.”

To say you never had doubts that the other two members were a part of your nexus would be a lie, you had hoped they were but the absence of mark manifestation symptoms made it hard to believe they’ll be one of your soulmates.

Who knew all it took to find out if you and Jin were connected was eating while in the presence of each other? If you hadn’t fainted from the lack of food and the Soulbond strain, would you have found out about it earlier?

Was he the reason you’d taste the savory taste of a well-seasoned grilled meat or the sweet fizzling taste of a soda late at night yesterday?

Or is the bond you both have will allow for long distance sense sharing? There are two types of Shared Tastebuds after all.

“The results are due today right?” Jimin asks and the doctor turns to his watch.

“This afternoon I'm sure just before you both are discharged. But,” He turns to Jin. “For now I'll be taking Mr. Kim with me to register his soulbond and involvement in your Nexus.”

When they left again, the three of you remained unmoving, stunned. 

It must be Jimin’s touch that had kept you calm throughout the revelation because you didn’t know how to react. There’s no doubt joy in the hurricane of emotions swirling in your chest, as well as the pacifying effect from both your and Jimin’s touch overwhelming the rising stress and conflict at the back of your head, forcing and pushing them back into the shadows.

You knew you should be stressing over the possibilities of having seven soulmates and how you’d divide your time to be able to equally spend time with everyone, it was already difficult having five these past few days. More often than not, you found yourself suffering a headache caused by the constant noise and overwhelming sensations each individual soulmarks gave you. 

From the constant sounds of Namjoon’s heartbeat at the back of your head, and Jimin’s touch making your skin thrum, even the Amoneuron in your blood is having a hard time keeping you away from soulbond hyperactivity.

Someone’s phone erupted into a shrill scream, it was Taehyung’s. Picking it up, he automatically puts it on speaker and holds the end of the phone close to his mouth. 

“Is it true? Please tell me it’s not true! I’m already competing with most of my hyungs for noona’s time!”

“This isn’t a competition, gguk.” Yoongi drawled in the background. “Didn’t we already establish that? No fighting for her hear—”

“What soulmark do they have?!” 

“Manager Sejin is already on the way with a lawyer to handle the legal side of things, how are you guys doing right now? Is noona good?” Namjoon asks, sounding closer to the mic.

“She didn't faint if that's what you're asking about. If anything,” Taehyung turns to you. “She looks a little out of it.”

“How did it happen? Is it the test? Is it out already?” Hoseok's voice came through, nervous.

“Yeah we'll deliver it to you later also, remember hyung complaining about tasting something weird? Apparently he was tasting the hospital special soup—”

_______

On your dismissal, the doctor had handed the eldest their test results. Seokjin had thrown him out since he already knew what it'll entail but held on protectively on Hoseok's envelope.

Jimin had proposed a small celebration for the mark's manifestation for everyone, nothing too grand, just a few take outs appropriate for tomorrow’s dinner—because Jungkook and Tae had requested pancakes and waffles for whatever reason—and a small cake. 

With five—not counting Jimin as he insisted that you both sit the activity out and Hoseok who visited his sister but promised to return the next day to read his result at dinner—men at your disposal, boxing up and moving your items into their dorm was easy, even if Yoongi has noticeably slowed down the stairs carrying the same one box he’s picked up since earlier; not that you’d call him out on it but you knew Seokjin and Jimin would to do it instead.

If it wasn't for Jungkook's eagerness to have you move in, it would have taken you all longer than you had today.

It was surreal seeing the items in your home slowly decrease, the mass on your shelves and all the personality of every room disappear with every box filled. You had been staying in the same apartment since you were 21, to have its familiar sights and spots be slowly stripped off of its glow felt sadder than you thought it would be.

BigHit had requested your company friends do all the basic packing such as your clothes and products while you were at the hospital, it wasn't forced but they acted like it was anyway. They (read: Minhyuk and Nabi) had jokingly complained about being tasked with doing things your soulmates should’ve been doing, Minhyuk going as far as threatening to sneak off something into one of the boxes and you feared for your life for what that something might entail.

You offered to buy them anything they want the next time you all visit the mall in exchange for their full cooperation and Minhyuk had vowed to run your bank dry with a sly grin.

“It's not like you’d even need them anymore when you’ve got the world’s biggest boyband as your soulmates, might as well spend your hard earned money on important things; friends, especially me though.”

You wouldn't deny the fact that you tried dating Guwon with the hopes of living lavishly without lifting a finger but the world would have to bathe in fire and water before you'd let them buy you expensive things outside of food; that you accept because you'd be able to taste and experience delicious dishes. Not to mention, it's practical.

Having your furniture moved out as well was out of the question after an hour of argument with Jimin and Jin who insisted on having you buy new decorations, except for the books, trinkets, and plethora of BTS collection you were given by the members themselves every comeback.

You argued that you didn’t need them to buy new furniture when you already have working ones.

But that argument was easily disproved when the maknaes (plus you as an unwilling participant and Namjoon because: "hyung you’re big, we need to weight test it!") had jumped into your bed and the frames creaked and trembled.

He was right, as much as it pains you to accept it.

But just because he's right doesn't mean you agree with him.

In the end, with one against eventually all of them, you were due for furniture shopping with Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon the next day. Today though, you were bunking with Jimin due to the need for constant skinship and the lack of bed in your new room.

You spent the better half of the afternoon unboxing and filling your closet with your items which barely filled two shelves out of six that were bolted onto the wall of the small well-lit room.

“Noona, your closet is a bit… barren.”

“The closets are just huge, I have plenty.”

“I’m concerned that you think this is plenty.” He says, thumbing the material of your cream cardigan.

“Don't you fucking dare Park Jimin.”

He smiled. “Who says I'm the one who'll do the buying? I don’t gift clothes noona, you should know that.”

After finding out your and Jin’s soulmark, you had thought deciding what you ate for dinner until the bond settled would be a hassle or until you both learn how to disable it. But Jin had simply agreed on your choices that night with a shrug of his shoulder.

And that amount of trust in whatever you’ll pick scares you in ways you never thought it would.

It's just a simple decision, one would say, but the ugly voices at the back of your head wondered if you even deserve this amount of consideration from him when you hadn’t noticed his lingering feelings for you for years.

But it seems like that fact has long been swept under the rug when the maknaes bounded up to you with mischief in their eyes.

Upon the realization that their Jin hyung would agree to almost anything you’d eat for a while, Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no second running up to you to propose the idea of ordering you a strawberry ice cream for dessert, claiming it was the only way to test their hyung’s love for her.

“You see noona, if hyung really loves you like he said he does, he would suck it up like the man he is.” Jungkook had reasoned to you with Taehyung nodding behind him and Jimin grinning mischievously next to you.

Fortunately for Jin, you don’t think forcing him to taste strawberry flavored things on the day he found out he wasn’t untethered would be a good decision despite the loud voice at the back of your head goading you to follow through their plan for fun.

But you promised the maknaes that you’ll do it someday.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful with a few talks about the schedule changes and the rumors Jungkook had read and heard from his small friend group outside his brothers. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of gold at the edge of your vision from where your foot is resting on top of Jimin’s under the table and the faint outline of the red string of fate stretching across to Yoongi’s right pinkie, you would’ve tricked your brain into thinking it was a normal dinner with your friends.

With the words streaming out of Jungkook’s mouth, Tae and Jimin’s additional information and the scandalous gasp and widened eyes around the table once the pieces began to form a picture, you almost thought it was an average weekly dinner with your bosses.

But soon enough, plates are taken into the kitchen and Jimin is already pulling you up to your room, saying how he wants to take a shower and that you should take your toiletries.

Something you had dreaded since you heard the doctor had sentenced you to be in constant skinship with Jimin.

Why are you even nervous?! You had seen him and his brothers in their boxers from being one of their make up artists yet your heart had been thudding loudly in your ears the moment you had entered his room with your travel bag in hand.

Turns out, there was a truth in the saying “Ignorance is bliss” in the fact that knowing something could alter the way you think and perceive even the smallest of actions. In your case, knowing Jimin's your soulmate while facing the dilemma of showering together had you completely fucked up.

On the verge of a breakdown, half a foot on the ledge and the other hanging over the fall.

You had swam in public pools with him before but it was always with the presence of others, to be alone in a small room in nothing but your undies while maintaining skinship with your soulmate—

Isn't that a bit too intimate?

Will you even survive?

To stand half naked in a minimal space alone with Jimin, your heart might just collapse.

Seeing him in his underwear shouldn't faze you as much as it should. He and the others has stripped in front of you in a haste of changing into the next costume for the next performance but in the minimal space of his bathroom where you both are secluded away from the other dwellers of the building and he's already topless and is now unbuttoning and sliding the zippers of his jorts, the mass in your throat kept on thickening with the tension in the air.

Your eyes roamed the soft, flatness of his stomach; from up his lightly freckled bare chest and down to the thin trail of hair down his abdomen. The prominent bones of his adonis belt had your throat drying up.

Seeing him topless shouldn't affect you the way it should yet you found yourself heating up at the sight of them.

When he begins to remove his pants, you force yourself to look away, cheeks burning hot as you thumb the top buttons of your—Taehyung’s—polo before beginning to undo them all with your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

The string tied to your finger lights up in a rhythmic beat, persistent and hurried. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's loud concern immediately washes over your body. You respond to him by pushing down reassurance down the lane and the thread dulls from one side.

“Did hyung contact you?”

You turn to Jimin, already stripped down to his boxers.

God is really testing you today, putting a handsome man in his underwear in front of you and tempting you to let your gaze fall down for a glimpse of his thick muscled thighs you always saw through the fabric of his skinny jeans.

“Ye-yeah, nothing to worry about though. Give me your foot, I need to remove my shirt.”

Obediently, he puts his foot forward and you step on it before making quick work of your shirt. You feel his burning gaze roam your skin and you shiver from its intensity.

By the time you had your pants pooling on the floor alongside his, your heart is thudding uncontrollably in a way that might concern Namjoon at how fast it's going.

Why is the calming effect of Jimin's touch absent when you need it?

“Ready to go?” 

You almost jumped at how hoarse his voice had gotten but recovered quickly and nodded, stepping first into the shower and twisting the valve towards the hotter temperature. Jimin hissed the moment the water touched his skin, breaking the stifling tension for a moment.

“How are your skin not burning off?! It's so hot!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're being dramatic, it's not that hot.”

“It is! The mirror is literally steaming!” He exclaimed, pointing at the long horizontal mirror above the sink which is indeed, fogging up. 

Jimin then leaned over, his naked chest touching your back. Goosebumps prickled your skin and you barely stopped the urge to shiver as he manipulated the valve until he was satisfied with the temperature. When he steps back, you finally let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Hearing your exhale, he laughed lightheartedly. The fucker did it on purpose.

Trying to ignore the thumps of your racing heart, you busied yourself with the task of washing your hair. You reached for the shampoo bottle and popped open the cap, body still facing the wall.

“Noona.”

You looked over your shoulder and Jimin was scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He shyly asks, his sly attitude from earlier nonexistent. “I've never done that with someone else before. I-I’ve always wanted to do that now and now that we're soulmates, I was–I was wondering if maybe I–we could—”

“Not even with that girl you’ve dated before?”

He shook his head. “We were too busy to do something like that, noona. Idol lives and all that. It's one of the reasons why we broke up.”

“She was pretty nice though.”

His lips quirks up. “Don’t get jealous noona, you’re my soulmate after all.”

You hit his shoulder and he brought his arms up to shield himself, giggling. “Do you want to wash each other’s hair or not?!”

Despite your agreement, you were beyond nervous as you handed him the shampoo and turned around to shut the shower off. The string on your finger thrummed once more, still concerned as your heart leapt up to your throat when Jimin's fingers began to thread and scrape his nails against your scalp.

A thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine and you hold back the urge to mewl as he begins to put more pressure on his motions.

It stayed like that for a while and you reveled in the pure domesticity of it all. 

When Jimin retracts his hands, you reach for his shampoo and order him to turn around.

“What if I don't want to?” He challenges with a mischievous smirk.

“If it gets in your eyes, it's your fault.”

He giggled and shrunk down to your height, to which you hit his shoulder for and he laughed, standing back up. 

“Can you even reach the top of my head like this?”

“Fine but don't complain about your knees hurting, you wanted this.” You jokingly say as he bends his knees once more, a playful lilt in his eyes.

Once you lathered the shampoo enough, you began. 

You’ve seen multiple couples on screen shower together and had once wondered how it’d felt having someone to help reach the spots you couldn’t as well as do those domestic things such as brushing your teeth together and just washing each other in general. The actors always made them natural and romantic, with the soft lighting bouncing off their skin and their laughter ringing in the small space.

But showering with Jimin is anything you’ve ever thought of.

Against the other members, Jimin is easily dwarfed by them, matched with the constant jokes about his height, it's easy to forget that the man is still taller than the average man. He towered over you, his eyes intense and lit with a playful sultriness. His lips twisted into a mischievous smirk as he bent his knees low enough where you could touch the top of his head without risking a stiff neck or standing on your tiptoes.

He’s peering up at you yet you feel smaller under his gaze.

He had always done this, getting into your face while you retouched his makeup. In a way, it was nice that you’re slowly regaining the normalcy 

But it's not appreciated when he’s doing it when you’re already fighting demons trying so hard not to ogle at his body and explode from how flustered you are.

“Are you seriously getting flushed now noona? We’ve done this plenty of times already, why now?”

Is he seriously asking you that?

He laughed. Your thoughts must’ve reflected on your face.

“Didn’t know you’d be affected by something as normal as this. Don’t you see us naked at least every other day?” He asks with a quirk to his eyebrow and you narrowed your eyes further at him.

“You know damn well why,” You say, slapping his shoulder before turning to open the shower once more. Laughing when the water burst open above him, cutting him off from replying.

With the tension dissolving with the shampoo on his hair, a playful grin replaced the coy smirk and with his newly washed hair, he grabbed your arms in an iron grip and began to shake his head at you, flicking water from his hair and onto you.

When he was done, he then pulled you into the stream with a bubbling laugh as he watched the shampoo suds dissolve with the water. But with both your arms pinned in place, you weren't able to wipe your eyes and had them closed the moment he had you under the shower head.

“I'm—I’m going to put chili in your fucking water, I can't see!”

With sorrys in between fits of giggles, Jimin reached up to wipe your face for you when he realized this.

Shower with Jimin sailed smoothly from that point on. After his teasing, he made no more attempts to fluster you, even when he was scrubbing your back a little longer than it should've taken. 

He had, however, made comments on how many steps there are for you to shower.

“Why do you need to shampoo twice, use soap AND body wash? It’s not like you’d ever get sick anymore when I’m here.”

You just rolled your eyes and told him to leave if he’s going to complain about your routine. Eventually though, you speed through your routine due to him whining about how he’s starting to feel cold, lightheaded—to which he dramatized by leaning his hurting head on your shoulder—, and is suddenly sleepy.

Changing into your pajamas was a little hard as you attempted to do it all under the safety of a towel while also maintaining skinship with Jimin every other ten seconds who's also doing the same.

You managed somehow and soon enough, you both situated yourselves into the bed, with your legs thrown over his and backreading the bangtan gc that had awakened the moment Jimin had his phone.

Surprisingly, even Jungkook was active.

           [21:24] Mimi: It's so weird tae            [21:24] Mimi: I’ve never seen someone use soap AND body wash THEN washes their hair t w i c e            [21:24] Hoba: I do that…            [21:25] Mimi: That’s expected hyung, you’re a neat freak.            [21:25] You: Why are you so weird about me being clean?!            [21:26] Mimi: ITS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR            [21:26] Jinnie: hoba I think he just called you a psychopath            [21:26] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Ggukie: NOW YOU MADE HYUNG SAD            [21:27] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Hoba: you think im weird jimin-ah?🙁            [21:27] Yoongs: why is this even a conversation            [21:27] Joonie: Jimin just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean it's unorthodox.            [21:28] Minnie: you’re one of them, are you hyung?!            [21:28] Tete: I still cant believe Jimin just showered with noona…            [21:28] Tete: why are we breezing through that information?            [21:28] Jinnie: ok so lets not talk about that            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want for breakfast, beautiful?

Reading his message felt like cold water dousing you awake and you’re suddenly attacked by a wave of guilt.

Is it okay for you to even make demands like this? Do you even deserve being Seokjin’s dearest?

“Ask him for waffles, I'm craving for them.” Jimin says, his voice slicing through your thoughts and you turn back to your phone.

           [21:29] Ggukie: ask me too hyung!            [21:29] Jinnie: alright I’ll bite            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want brat?            [21:30] Ggukie: noona’s love :DD

You watched as Jin’s profile pic pop up and came down multiple times, and each time they do, your and Jimin’s giggles multiply.

           [21:32] Jinnie: I’m blocking you            [21:32] Joonie: I should have you kicked out for that stupid, corny ass joke oh my god            [21:32] Yoongs: that activated my fight or flight            [21:32] Yoongs: don’t do that again            [21:32] Ggukie: hyung ask me again            [21:32] Ggukie: promise I’ll respond properly this time :]            [21:33] Jinnie: Y/N?            [21:33] Ggukie: HYUNG            [21:33] Minnie: she says she wants waffles :>            [21:33] Jinnie: I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Park Jimin            [21:34] Minnie: D:            [21:34] You: I want scrambled eggs and pancakes :D

“Betrayal!”

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then.” 

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then. Give me that!” You stretch your arm away from him but Jimin was faster, managing to pluck your phone from your grasp and moving to place it on his side of the floor.

Without hesitation, you launched yourself at his hand making him yelp before it dissolved into giggles when you managed to catch him and had curled up around his arm, fingers attempting to pry him away from your phone.

It was how Tae had found you both in and immediately lept in, taking your side the moment he had seen you and Jimin tussled for your phone. 

With Tae’s help, you were able to take back your phone only to see that it had locked itself from the many times the screen had picked up on both you and Jimin’s palms and had typed in the wrong combination after the other. For that, you slapped his arm.

“What did I do wrong?! It’s not my fault the stupid phone couldn’t differentiate between palm and fingers!”

“If I wasn’t required to touch you, I’d have you kicked out of this room.”

Jimin pushed himself up, face incredulous. “This is literally my room.”

“Next week you should sleep in my room instead, noona. I’d love to have you there.” Taehyung says, pulling you to his chest and side-eyeing his friend. “I wouldn’t be as mean as Jiminie.”

“Why am I getting disrespected in my own room? Is it gang up on Jimin day?!”

“When is it not gang up on Jimin day?”

“Why you—GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 26 - I've Loved Everything About You That Hurts

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: They’re insane because I’ll try to write a chapter with no sex and they end up fucking, and then I try to do the sex in less words and now it’s emotional.

Chapter Title from G.I.N.A.S.F.S by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 25k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, plus some extra smut and average No Love Lost angst.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, much smut (p in v, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting) fluff, emotional angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Ben was not the brains. And he was fucking fine with that. He was the muscle, and he was goddamn good at it. Because while She was stronger than he was—She was stronger and brighter and more vital than the fucking sun—she shouldn’t have blood on her hands. Her hands weren’t fucking meant to be covered in blood. They were meant to tap in a smooth, unyielding pattern against every surface, and turn the pages of books, and hold Ben’s face as she smiled at him. She was meant to fucking smile, and only be near blood to sit with Ben as he washed it off himself.

She kept letting it stain her skin. She kept taking fucking bullets meant for others and covering herself in the mud that pussies like Homelander pushed her into. And that’s what Ben was here for. He was now certain that he wasn’t here for fame or glory or money, he was here to move in perfect fucking time with the woman he loved. To listen to Her giggle and mumble and snort, and give her the fucking world. To dance with Her in the kitchen, and joke with her about fucking everything, and keep his arm around her during dinner as She gave him a secret look that meant I love you, Benjamin, you grump. He was supposed to watch baseball as She frowned at the screen, turning his hand over in hers as she tried to follow the game. He was meant to hold onto the easier, better things—the warm, well-fueled light that inflated in his chest when Ryan hugged at him after training, or the chuckle he couldn’t stop from escaping his body when She pouted at him about something stupid, or the way She moaned when he fucked her into the mattress—and hack and claw his way through the worse parts.

Ben was meant to be the only person in the fucking world who did the dirty work for Her. She’d done enough, and even though he believed her more and more when she told him I’m okay, Ben would do everything in his fucking power to keep her okay. He knew he couldn’t stop Her from running into traffic, because she was fast and stubborn and still didn’t care if She got hit. But he’d jump in front of the oncoming car, and continue to make her understand that he fucking cared. Ben would never fucking recover if She got hit. And if all he could do was tell Her I fucking love you, stop thinking you’re weak and expendable when I fucking love you and adore you and need you, and then run into traffic with Her, he’d do it. Ben was meant to fucking defend Her from everything that haunted her at night, and he understood that now. That he’d never chase away the ghosts, and She’d never chase away his, but they could really easily fucking kill them together. If they were together, those fucking pussy ghosts didn’t stand a goddamn chance. 

So Ben was the muscle, in order to make sure that She didn’t have to be. It was another thing for him to do for Her, when She’d made everything so much more beautiful just by fucking existing near him, and fixing all his messes, and loving him. Still somehow fucking loving him, because Ben was almost goddamn certain some cosmic entity had made a clerical error and sent him the most perfect woman in history, instead of leaving him alone. Ben thought he was supposed to be, mostly, alone. Making empty promises to women he knew he didn’t really want, and to keep fucking moving until it was enough.

It hadn’t been enough. It had never been fucking enough. 

But he’d rested for one goddamn second—his head held against Her body, the most awful aching fucking pain he’d ever goddamn felt consuming him like a storm—and it had been good. She’d hummed to him like she loved him, and She fucking did, and stayed. He’d rested, and it had been enough. 

And now he knew that the fantasy he’d created—where life was so fucking happy because She was happy—wasn’t something he’d allow to be a fantasy. He couldn’t control anything about Her, but he could keep her happy. And if Her nightmares were of blood, he’d never let her see fucking blood again. He’d hide everything that was blue—if they had a son, the kid would have to just fucking deal with green—and shoot out whatever fucking ceiling fans made her cry. He’d drive her everywhere, half because he was over a hundred and had never seen someone speed like She did, and half because she was afraid of heights, and shouldn’t have to use a single goddamn plane. He’d yell at whoever was in charge of bridges until they built one to Rome, and the rest of their fucking lives would be happy.

That was a life he wanted to live. Where he was resting with Her, and they were both happy. And Ben would fucking choke on blood and dirt and mud until it was a reality. 

Which is why he was losing his fucking mind as they entered that part of this war where it wasn’t about muscle anymore. It was about careful moves and well chosen words, and it was the only goddamn battle Ben couldn’t fight for Her. He wasn’t fucking stupid, but he wasn’t even fucking close to understanding whatever the hell went on in Her perfect, clever, insufferably brilliant brain. He knew how She thought—because he knew Her and loved Her and cared for Her—so when something happened that made her eyes grow glazed and her breathing become mechanical, Ben knew he had to hold her until she stopped thinking the only stupid thoughts she was capable of thinking.

That she was bad, when she was actually the only truly good thing in the world. 

That she was weak, when she fucking wasn’t. 

That she didn’t matter, when she mattered more than fucking anything, and sometimes it stabbed him deep in his arteries that she still didn’t get that. 

Ben knew how to chase those thoughts away. He was smart enough to know how to worship and tend to her, and to know when she just needed him at her side.

But Christ, he wasn’t smart enough for this shit. For the CIA and Singer and Edgar and Sage messes. This was Her territory. And Ben could stand at her side, but that was the only fucking way he could help, and it was driving him out of his goddamn mind.

What was worse, though, was that She was fucking confused. And that’s how Ben knew they were fucked.

Because not a single goddamn person could figure out what the fuck the keys were for. 

As they’d left the safe house, Neuman had stopped them. In reality, Neuman had stopped Her and Ben had simply fucking refused to leave them alone. He’d received several irritated glares from Neuman, but She’d moved her free hand to hold Ben’s forearm—in a silent request to keep his hand in Her’s, to stay at her side all the goddamn time—so Ben had stood tall and proud next to her, keeping her safe. Just by being there, like She’d told him to. Neuman could look fucking pissed at him all she wanted, Ben wasn’t going anywhere.

“You were at Red River,” Neuman had watched them carefully, arms crossed as she blocked their way down the stairs. “Did you get it?” 

There had been a pause as She examined Neuman, before finally nodding, her tone flat and  bored. “Yeah, we did. We’ll get it to Edgar-“ 

“What is it?” 

She’d blinked at Neuman. “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters,” Neuman had said Her name with an eye roll, and Ben had felt something bloody and zealous tense in his body. “Edgar raised me to be a lot smarter than just blindly trusting him, so I want to know what it is.” 

“And if I don’t tell you?” 

“Oh, come on.” Neuman’s voice had been vaguely amused, giving Her a flat look. “We both know you’re going to tell me. You trust me enough to bring Ashley here, and whatever it is I bet you’re debating whether or not you should give it to Edgar. I can help you decide.”

Ben hadn’t been debating shit. It was keys. Who gave a fuck about keys. As far as he had known, they’d toss the keys to Edgar, settling the debt, and figure out what the fuck to do with the V.

And that was another fucking reason why She was the brains. She’d studied Neuman—fingers tapping on Ben’s arm with lips pulled between her teeth—and found a conclusion that satisfied her enough to reach into Ben’s pocket and pull out the keys, holding them up for Neuman to see.

“Keys.” She’d jingled them with a shrug. “Got an idea what they’re to?”

Neuman hadn’t. Neuman had just looked fucking confused, and helped with goddamn nothing. Neuman had stared at the keys, bluntly stated that she didn’t know what they could possibly unlock, all of Edgar’s property assets were seized and all of Vought’s buildings used electronic locks, and suggested they figure out what they were for before giving them to Edgar. And—based on Her drawn, too-neutral face and the spark of indigence in her eyes—She’d already known all that, and had no intention of giving Edgar a goddamn thing until they knew what the hell was going on.

And now they were even more goddamn late to get back to the compound, and make the drive to DC. She’d volunteered to drive them back, and Ben, Hughie, and Kimiko had exchanged silent looks of not a fucking chance in hell. 

“I’ll be safe-“ 

Ben had drawled Her name, cutting off her protests as Hughie and Kimiko moved to the front of the car. “You will not be fucking safe. You’re worse than Butcher, and if you wreck his car we’re going to have to deal with his bitching for the rest of our goddamn lives.” 

“But-“ 

He’d tugged Her into the back seat, holding her half on his lap and kissing her pretty, pouting mouth until she relaxed in his arms. We’re going to be fucking fine. If Singer gets all goddamn pissed about us being late, he can shove it in his dick hole. 

A small smile had played on her lips, still pressed against Ben’s. Gross.

Her heartbeat had remained steady under Ben’s hands for the rest of the—perfectly fucking legal and safe—drive, and when they’d stepped off the elevator they’d been greeted by MM’s assessing glare and scowl.

“What the hell took you so long.” 

“Um,” Hughie had glanced back to Her—tucked under Ben’s arm—with a stutter of Her name and pallid face. “Do you want to-“ 

“You know what,” MM had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t care. Kimiko, you and Frenchie are holding down the fort with Ryan. You three,” he’d turned his glare to Her, Ben, and Hughie. “Get ten minutes to pack. We’re rolling out in fifteen no matter who the fuck is in the limo.”

She’d blinked. “The limo-“ 

“Van’s still scrapped,” MM had muttered. “And we can’t fit six grown ass adults in a minivan or Butcher’s car. We’re renting a limo.”

Ben had no complaints about that. He didn’t have to wear a damn seatbelt in a limo, and it was a very opportune and appropriate place to hold Her in his lap as they drove without groans and pointed glares from their prude fucking team. If a life of luxury had taught him anything, it was that limos were meant to hold beautiful women, and he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t hold his beautiful woman—the most beautiful, perfect fucking woman who he fucking loved—when he was given the opportunity. So he’d let Her pull them back to their apartment, changing as she stuffed their shit into a suitcase, and taken over when her heartbeat became too fucking fast and her glare at their clothing became almost violent.

“I’ve got it,” Ben had walked up behind Her, wrapping his arms over Her shoulders and kissing Her neck until she let out a breath that didn’t sound fucking mechanical. “Don’t lose your damn mind, Sunshine, I can fucking pack.”

She’d nodded slowly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t,” he’d muttered, leaning down to kiss under Her jaw, and felt something light and perfectly fucking mind-numbing wrap around his brain like a crown as she made a high, breathy sound. “Go get changed, darling.” 

She’d let Ben guide her to the dresser, and begun to hum under her breath as she’d changed.

“Rainbow Connection.” He’d grunted as she’d returned to his side, hanging off Ben’s arms as She surveyed his packing job.

Her smile had been all content, easy joy, and Ben whole fucking heart had skipped. Then she’d started to actually fucking sing, and he’d genuinely considered just letting the team leave without them. Her voice was like honey and summer rain and something peaceful and strong that Ben hadn’t heard before Her, and never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of his fucking life. The only thing that kept him from staying here, where She was safe and happy and the whole goddamn world was just color and light and her perfect fucking smile, was that she’d kick his fucking ass if they missed this meeting.

They’d had five more minutes, though. And that was more than enough time for Ben to spin Her around until she was dizzy and giggling, swaying in his arms to the instruments that weren’t really there as She sang, looking at him with such infinite and impossibly fucking ceaseless love.

This was the fucking shit worth fighting for. This was where Ben was goddamn supposed to be. And even as he’d kept his arm over Her shoulder—letting Her drag the suitcase behind them and grabbing his shield before they left the apartment—Ben didn’t fucking want to go. He wanted to stay right here, and let this ungrateful world that kept fucking hurting Her crumble.

But She wouldn’t let that happen, and part of why Ben loved Her—there were countless fucking reasons, and the world would probably be swallowed by the Sun before he’d finished naming them all—was because she loved fucking everything. She had a goddamn unfathomable amount of love to hold in Her body, and most of it might be for Ben, but it still spilled into everywhere that Ben could see. Music sounded better, and jokes were funnier, and water quenched his thirst faster when she was around. The only thing Ben remained at her side was hungry. For more of this fucking beauty, and whatever bit of love She’d spare for him. And as long as She kept loving the world, he’d defend it for her. If Ben had a goddamn say in anything, the world wouldn’t fall to ruin until She told him to burn it.

And She wouldn’t. So Ben had to kiss Her head and mutter that he loved Her—just in case she hadn’t heard him the million other times he’d said it—and stay watchful and dependent at her side. Walk with her to the elevator, out to the parking lot, and over to a sleek, black limo that already had the engine fucking running.

“Bout fucking time,” Butcher had grunted, jerking his head to the limo doors as they approached. “We were two bleedin seconds from leavin you twats behind. I’m drivin, which means I’m in fuckin charge, and that means no hanky panky in my bloody limo.”

She’d wrinkled Her nose as Ben opened the door. “Hanky Panky? What are you, a fucking grandmother? You sound older than he does.” 

Butcher had scoffed as She’d bumped Ben’s shoulder. “Shut it, Love, least I know how fuckin wifi works.” 

“I know how wifi works,” Ben had grumbled into Her ear as Butcher turned away. “You put in the numbers and the radio shows you the internet.”

“That’s,” She’d paused, tilting Her head as Ben pulled her into the limo. “Not wrong. Good work, Pretty Boy.”

He’d grunted, shifting them until She was on his lap, not sparing a goddamn glance to the rest of the team. “I didn’t fucking miss the old shit, brat. I’m not-“ 

“Fucking old,” She’d grinned at him, voice dropping into that dog shit impression of Ben that She’d only gotten worse at. “You know better than any damn pussy fucker, Sunshine, that I am not old.” 

He’d rolled his eyes, kissing at the base of Her neck, and MM had let out a very loud cough that almost made Ben bash his brains in, because it caused Her beautiful, perfect face to twist away from him.

“Sorry, MM-“

MM had cut Her off with a heavy, almost pained sigh. “It isn’t that shit. I mean, we’d all really appreciate if you toned it the fuck down for the drive, but I’ve given up on trying to stop you motherfuckers from humping like dogs in heat all the goddamn time.”

She’d flushed, and Ben had taken over. “The fuck do you want then-“

“The Cornucopia.” MM had looked between Ben and Her and Hughie with a raised brow. “What the hell is it.”

She’d reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the keys, and tossed them across the limo to MM. He’d blinked at Her, she’d explained Red River as Ben added some very fucking helpful nods and Hughie jumped in with small, stupid details that didn’t seem like they mattered, but She’d thanked him for anyways. 

And now, after a whole goddamn hour of sitting in the limo, they’d made no progress in figuring out what the fuck to do with the keys. Everyone had coughed up fifty dollars to Annie for Her bet of any item that’s not a bucket—Annie had forgiven Her debt, and Ben had taken Annie’s dish duty for two fucking months to make up for his own—and they’d passed them around the group for everyone to examine like they’d suddenly fucking have Vought Sex Dungeon engraved on the side.

“Maybe they’re to a storage unit?” Annie looked around the group, fidgeting with the keys in her hands, and MM shook his head.

“No, they’d have a label on them. And then we’d have to worry about-“

“What the fuck is in the storage unit.” She mumbled, leaning Her head back onto Ben’s shoulder. “I mean, no matter what those keys probably lead to the actual Cornucopia. It can’t just be keys.”

“But it’s different, right?” Hughie leaned forwards as he spoke, arms on his knees. “If it’s a storage unit, or a box, or, like, a whole building? And it matters that they’re keys, I mean that sort of, um, narrows it down.”

Ben frowned, opening his mouth to ask Hughie how the fuck that narrowed a goddamn thing down, when She squeeze his arm over her stomach.

A lot of Vought buildings don’t use physical keys, they use keycards. And those keys don’t look old, so it’s not a warehouse that just hasn’t been modernized.

Ben reached his hand up to tilt Her head back, moving her full attention from Hughie to him. What the fuck do you think it is.

I don’t know. She sighed, pulling Ben’s arms around her a little tighter. I mean, I have guesses, but-

What are they.

Ben could see Her teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, her fingers tapping against the back of his hand. They’re just theories, and none of them are concrete-

He grunted Her name in his head. Tell me your fucking theories.

They don’t-

If you say matter, I’ll crash the fucking car.

Grumpy. She gave him a fake pout, and Ben hauled her a little further up his chest, kissing the crook of Her neck.

Tell me. I won’t interrupt you, and you can talk them out. That always fucking helps you. 

Her fingers stilled against him, and when Ben pulled back she was watching him with something so gentle and adoring in her eyes it nearly fucking knocked him out. He could feel the full fucking force of Her love, crashing into his body and making everything so good. There was a soft smile playing on Her face, and Ben didn’t understand it. That was the smile she gave him when he said something supportive to Ryan, or grumbled an agreement with Butcher, or exchanged short, curt nods with MM. It was the smile She gave him when he made her pancakes, or proved he’d been listening to Her rant about nothing, or she caught him humming one of her songs in the shower, and none of his scowling or protests could deter her teasing.

I love you, Benjamin. Her voice was almost whispering in his head, and she reached up to trace the lines of his face. I really love you.

I fucking know that-

No, you don’t. She brushed hair from Ben’s eyes, and let out a small sigh. I love you so, so much. I love you, Ben. I really fucking love you.

Something felt almost fucking radiant in Ben’s body. It wasn’t the nuke, because that felt violent and hateful and still fucking painful, even within Ben’s control. This was comfortable and open and so fucking painfully glorious it might drive him mad. It was so goddamn strange, and easy, and he’d felt it before but not quite like this. This felt like when he’d rested against Her, but without any of the pain or the lump of failure in his throat. So—though he still didn’t fully fucking understand what she meant, Ben did know She loved him and never fucking doubted it—he nodded, and dropped his face back to her neck. I love you too, Sunshine. Talk.

It could be an apartment or house that the feds missed. It’s likely Edgar’s and not Vought’s, because if it’s important enough to hide Vought would’ve already taken it. Sage would’ve taken it. Maybe it’s an incredibly well-kept secret, and Sage is looking for it, and that’s why Edgar wants it now. But if it’s that, it’s probably not a house, because what would Sage need with a house. I don’t think it’s going to be something small, because Cornucopia implies plenty, and Edgar isn’t someone who misuses words. My bet is on a warehouse that Edgar’s keeping a lot of shit in. Vanessa seemed worried about what we’d do with it, which makes me think it’s something dangerous. She turned Her head, resting it against Ben’s. But that’s all I have.

Ben rolled his eyes. Still a fuck ton more than everyone else.

Shut up. She whacked Ben’s arm lightly, and he could feel her smile brushing against his forehead. What’s your bet.

My money is on your fucking money, darling.

That’s very sweet, but not the slightest bit helpful.

Tough shit, I’m not changing my answer. Ben nipped at Her slightly, smirking at the small squeak that left her lips. You’re the smartest one here by a damn mile. Money on you is safe fucking money.

Love has made you stupid, Benjamin.

No. He drew back up, his grin unrestrained as he took in Her perfect, pretty face, and her sharp, amused eyes, and all Her fucking love and adoration for, and knew that all of it was fucking his. Ben got to have this. He loved Her like she deserved, so he got to be the one she looked at with a smile and watched like he was everything. Love has made me smart as fuck. Which is why I know to put money on you, beautiful. Because you’re always fucking right.

They were so fucking close, Ben’s breath passing into her mouth, and Christ, She was going to kill him. Her lips had parted slightly, her hands over Ben’s arms—holding them in their rightful place against Her—gripping him like she was going to fall down, and She wanted him. Her thighs were rubbing for friction against his body, and her heartbeat had picked up, and Ben was going to fuck Her in the back of the limo. Everyone else was just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because She fucking wanted Ben and he wasn’t capable of denying her anything. 

Then MM said Her name, and Ben almost bit through this tongue at the way She squirmed above him and made his cock jump, and the way she was still holding onto him, and the fucking smell and feel of Her above him, and Christ he needed to fuck her-

“Catch,” MM grunted, and Ben grabbed the keys flying through the air before She even had time to react. “That wasn’t mean for you-“ 

“Shove it up your ass, MM.” Ben tucked the keys into Her pocket, holding MM’s glare. “What do you want.”

She pinched Ben’s arm. Rude, Benjamin-

He shouldn’t just fucking throw shit at you-

You throw things at me all the time- 

No, I don’t, you throw shit at me all the damn time, because you’re fucking mean to me- 

You’re invincible, Pretty Boy, I think you’ll survive some paper-

MM let out a loud, overdramatic cough. “If you can listen to me for five minutes, I’ll let you dumbasses brain-fuck each other all you want. Think you can make it five fucking minutes?”

Ben had no interest in making it five minutes, and She didn’t either. He’d shifted against Her, pressing himself into her ass, and her breath had hitched as her heart began to stumble in her chest. But She was too fucking kind and good and perfect, so She nodded, and MM continued. 

“You have to keep those on you,” he said, voice firm and jaw set. “And no making any moves with them until we’re all on board, this could be dangerous. That goes for everyone!” MM raised his voice, glare turning to the front of the limo. “That means you, motherfucker. No stealing the keys and going all vigilante!”

Butcher snorted from the front. “I ain’t the one for you to worry about, Mate. If anyone’s goin fuckin rogue, it’s Bonnie and Clyde over there.” 

“We’re not going to go rogue, Butcher.” She flipped off the divider between them and Butcher, a pretty glower on her face. “And if you try to steal the keys, I’ll burn your face off.”

“Fuckin shame, that’s my money maker-“ 

“Can we please not kill each other when there’s still two hours left of the drive?” Hughie had gone all fucking puppy-dog eyed—looking between Her and Butcher’s back like a whining child—and She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Hughie.” She turned back to MM, and She needed to stop wiggling around on Ben’s lap or he’d go fucking insane. “Is that it?” 

When MM nodded, She twisted back around, dropping Her head into Ben’s chest, and sighed. Ben let Her stay there as Hughie, Annie, and MM trailed off into a conversation he wasn’t paying attention to, tangling his fingers in Her hair and kneading at her skin. Her heartbeat was a soft, even hum in Her chest, and he didn’t need to feel Her fingers tapping on his back or hear the chew of her tongue to know She was thinking. He didn’t push it—waiting for Her to speak first—because She fit naturally against him, and nothing in him felt wrong, so She was okay. Just fucking thinking.

Benjamin? 

He hummed Her name back, between their heads, and she exhaled against him. 

We didn’t tell them about the V. The vial of it we found with the keys. 

Ben paused, glancing over at their team. Do you want to.

I don’t know. I, Her arms around him tightened, and She looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes with a frown. I don’t want to give it to Edgar. I don’t trust whatever intentions he has with it. But I don’t want to make more supes. It’s fighting fire with fire, and it’s not- She cut herself off, eyes roaming Ben’s face like she’d find an answer there. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair- 

I know, She sat up a little, hands moving to cup Ben’s jaw. I know this isn’t about fair. But it’s still not fucking fair. I know you asked for this, for the V, but I didn’t. No one else did. And that’s so fucking unfair. It’s so unfair, Ben, and I don’t, I mean. She took a long breath. You remember how much it hurt, I can’t do that to someone. Even for the mission.

He began to trace patterns on Her waist, studying her almost glossy, pleading eyes. She wasn’t spiraling—Her heartbeat was too steady—but she looked lost. Unsure and so fucking tired that it made Ben’s whole head heavy. 

And he needed to help. Ben needed to make this fucking better for Her, whatever it goddamn took.

Do you know why I volunteered for the Vought trials.

She paused, tilting her head at him. To impress your dad, Butcher told me before we woke you up.

Yeah. Ben let out a dry chuckle, holding Her gaze. Did the cockfuck tell you if it worked?

He said it didn’t. Her fingers began to play with the hair of Ben’s beard as She frowned at him. Why?

Because I did this shit to myself, I made myself Soldier Boy, and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. Everyone loved me, and nobody gave a fuck about me-

I give a fuck about you, She gave him a small, sweet, toothless smile, and Ben didn’t even fucking bother to stop himself from returning it. 

If you’d let me talk, brat, Ben drawled between their heads, dropping his brow to Hers. I’m fucking getting there. I missed my own mother’s funeral because my father somehow managed to outlive her, and I didn’t want to see his old, ugly, evil fucking face. My whole goddamn life was about being Soldier Boy, I never had a single pussy fucker I trusted, and I wasn’t aging so I decided to just keep damn waiting until this proved worth something. And you, he squeezed his arms around her, brushing his lips against Hers in a slight, soft motion. Are worth something. I waited a fucking lifetime, and I found it.

She made a small, choked sound, and Her eyes on Ben’s were filled with all that love he could feel everywhere around him. In Her, and traded between their body, and making everything so fucking good.

I love you, Her voice was soft in his head, her hands holding Ben’s head against Hers. But I don’t-

Ben had to spell it out for Her. He’d expected that. The one fucking thing she never seemed to get was that She was the whole fucking world, and Ben would follow her everywhere. I love you. I fucking adore you, and it’s not fair that you’re cleaning up all the goddamn messes I helped make in your name, before I even fucking knew you.

In my-

I was Soldier Boy to make this shit worth something. Everything I did was for whatever the fuck would be worth something, and that’s you. I was just a fucking dumbass who did it wrong. Love has made me smarter, Sunshine, because I’m doing it right now, but I still did it fucking wrong before. And I made messes, and now the woman I love has to clean them up because none of this shit is fucking fair. That V is my V, that they made to make you, and that’s it. Butcher might end up with us, but it’s you and me. We can flush that V down the toilet, or throw it off a fucking building, but that’s it. It’s not fair for you to make that call, so we’re taking it off the goddamn table.

She was silent for a second, and when She spoke she was combing her fingers through Ben’s hair, mouth dropped in a soft frown. You didn’t make these messes, Ben.

Yeah I know, fucking Homelander- 

No. She gave a small shake of her head. Not Homelander either. That's the worst part, I think. That all of this is so fucking unfair, and no one person can pay for it.

What the fuck are you talking about.

She sighed. I’m saying that I can’t blame anyone. That none of this is fair, and I can’t blame Homelander for all of it. Voguelbaum created him, and Stillwell enabled him, and- 

I fucking helped in making him- 

But they didn’t tell you to. And you didn’t make the system that he’s thrived in. You helped build it, to a degree, but not all of it. And I don’t blame you. I’ve told you that. I’ve never blamed you for how unfair this is, or what happened to me.

And I’ve told you that you fucking should- 

But I don’t. She searched his eyes, her own almost pleading. I really don’t. I love you, Benjamin, and I don’t really care for Soldier Boy, but I haven’t ever blamed you for this. Even before you were my Ben, I never blamed you.

He still didn’t fucking understand Her. She should blame him. This shit was unfair, and they both knew that fair didn’t matter, but Ben would still never be properly fucking worthy of Her. He’d never make up for how he’d set in motion things that had goddamn hurt her. But She was still curled in his lap, calling him mine, and looking at him like he was worth something. 

Why.

Do you know the Bhagavad Gita?

Ben gave Her a flat glare. You know goddamn well- 

It’s Hindu scripture. And there’s a really famous passage that says “I am become death, shatterer of worlds.” It means the soldier isn’t responsible for the deaths of the war. You were, sort of, a soldier. And you did benefit, and you were a real fucking asshole, but you were willingly blind. You committed atrocious, and didn’t think twice, because that’s what soldiers are meant to do. You aren’t a victim, but these messes aren’t just yours. A lot of people helped you make them. Vought gave you compound V, and the government signed off on the trials, and your father told you that you were worthless and you wanted a way to prove him wrong. You were an unstable dick, but you didn’t tell them the solution was to make Homelander. And you didn’t raise Homelander, or tell him to hurt me. You’ve been one of the only people who’s tried to stop him from hurting me, and that’s why I don’t blame you. Many, many people contributed to this, and none of them have ever repented. You’re repenting, and this will always be fucking unfair, but it’s you and me. You’re not a soldier anymore. You’re fighting for people you care about instead of power or glory, and you’re trying to help me fix this, and I love you. And that’s what matters.

She was fucking perfect. Ben hadn’t followed half the damn words She passed down their connection, but he understood the gist. She was still too good, too kind, too fucking forgiving, and She loved him. This wasn’t fucking fair, but he was doing everything in his goddamn power to make it easier for Her, and she fucking loved him. Ben bumped Her nose with his, and a smile tugged at her lips.

Lot of smart fucking words to say you love me and don’t blame me.

Well, you weren’t fucking getting it, Pretty Boy. That’s not my fault. She pressed a light kiss to Ben’s check, humming against his beard. Thank you.

Don’t-

Nope. Thank you. I love you, and thank you.

Ben sighed, and let it the fuck go. He had a lifetime to finally get Her to stop fucking thanking him for things he was supposed to be doing. He was meant to love Her, and listen to her, and hold her like this, so she needed to stop fucking pretending it was some sort of labor he needed thanks for. But for now, as Her head dropped down to his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck—warm breath fanning over his skin, a light touch tracing over his bicep—Ben let this be enough. She—all by her goddamn self—was more than fucking enough, and so he dropped it.

I love you too. He muttered in Her head, something relaxing and blooming in his chest as she smiled against him. Whatever the hell you want to do with the V, we’ll do it. And my vote is flushing it down the goddamn toilet. You and I are strong enough to kick Homelander’s pussy dick into his asshole all by our goddamn selves.

Her nose wrinkled. Gross.

Shut up. He moved his hand to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair until she was molded against him. You fucking love it.

I do. There was a moment of silence, Her fingers still tracing over Ben’s skin before resting against his chest. Ben?

He grunted, keeping his hand around her and against Her in steady patterns. Circles on her hips and hair wrapped between his fingers, her skin soft under his touch and heartbeat in an even rhythm Ben knew better than his own.

You’re worth something to me as well. 

I know-

No. Let me finish. She pushed up on him, holding his gaze with an almost anguished intensity. You’re worth everything to me. You are everything to me. I love you and adore you and I give so many fucks about you it’s insane. You’re my whole life, Benjamin, now and after. And you make all of this worth something for me as well.

The radiant warmth was everywhere inside of him now, but it was fed by the ache. The way Her voice in his head was pleading, like she needed Ben to understand, and if he didn’t it might hurt her. The way Her hands were curled in his shirt as she held herself up—like she was forcing herself not to collapse against him—and her words were wrapping over Ben’s body and seeping in his skin, all of it born from Her love for him. And it all made the ache in him slide into his throat, and tug at his tongue to say a million fucking things he didn’t have words for.

Simple was easier. The only words that never failed to make Her smile, and set her heart back to an even rhythm. The only thing he fully knew how to be certain of in the entire goddamn universe.

I love you, Sunshine.

Her face split into a soft, gentle smile. I love you too, Benjamin.

She fucking loved him, and that was rooted so deeply inside of Ben that he’d never stray from it. It made him stronger, holding him in a place he knew and loved and wanted to defend. He pulled Her a little higher up his torso, dropping his head to top of her chest and just fucking living there. Where her heartbeat was the loudest, and everything felt fucking good.

They’d worry about all this shit later. They had a whole fucking day ahead of them to worry about Singer and Her stepfather, and Homelander and Mallory and Edgar. And they’d spent months that felt like lives worrying about all these fucking messes, and Ben had spent lives before that making them without ever resting, or feeling fucking satiated by it.

He was satiated here. Leaning into her, with Her legs wrapped around his body and her head resting over his. Her body was slumped over him, every hitched breath when Ben ran a hand up her thigh or traced down her spine brushing against Ben’s ear, and this felt right. This felt fucking right, and Ben didn’t think he’d felt something this plainly natural in his life. It kept amazing him—over and fucking over—how he’d spent his whole life tearing things apart when all he’d had to do was fucking wait. It had made it easier when She’d been away from him and asked him to just wait for Her, because he had a lifetime of goddamn practice waiting for Her already. Waiting for something that wasn’t fucking salvation—because She hadn’t fixed him or saved him, that was fucking stupid—but better.

She wasn’t a cure. She was too silently wrathful to be a cure, made of too many sharp, spiking parts that she cut off for others to consume for Her to be a cure. She wasn’t for others, she just didn’t know how not to be. She was something that was meant to be worshipped, that had been made into a fucking offering. Turned into something like a cure, but never able to do it right, because it’s not what she was supposed to be.

Cures were made for something deadly and diseased. And Ben wasn’t a fucking saint, but he wasn’t sick. He’d just been angry. He’d been furious and bitter and vigilant, so he’d made himself lonely half by choice and half by how vicious his bite was when he was wronged.

She bit too. She didn’t cower or maul or run. She just bit back, and Her bite was a match to his. Less brute force, but more targeted. Right into Ben’s neck, and feeding something in him he hadn’t known was hungry. So She wasn’t a fucking cure, because cures took things away. She’d made him more. Given him something he’d always wanted, and never known existed. And now Ben would always be hungry, but he’ll be satiated. He found purpose. He’d had waited his whole fucking life for purpose, and it was Her. This was a goddamn purpose, something he was meant to do and be and have and give.

Are you hungry?

Ben leaned back, meeting Her eyes with a frown. What. 

I’m thinking about dinner. We’re staying in a hotel tonight, and the meeting with Singer isn’t until the morning, and I’m hungry. 

She gave him a fake pout, and Ben seriously fucking considered throwing Butcher out of the car to get Her to a fucking McDonalds. She probably liked McDonalds, everyone fucking liked McDonalds, and she always ate Ben’s burgers, so it wasn’t like they’d get fucked by the menu.

Just in case, he asked, What do you want?

She hummed, her fingers tapping against Ben’s jaw. What do hotels usually have? Lobster? Do they have lobster? 

Fancy hotels have lobster. And if this one doesn’t, I’ll find you some- 

Ben. She gave him a flat look, even as Her love swept through him like a wildfire. Where are you going to find me lobster. 

I don’t fucking know, the ocean- 

We’re on a river, those don’t have lobsters. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Fine, smartass, another restaurant- 

They’d make you pay for that, Pretty Boy, and we’re broke. If you keep losing bets at this rate, you’ll be on dish duty until after we kill Homelander.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do, they won’t forgive my debts like they do yours- 

Because you lose all the time. She shrugged, dropping Her brow to Ben’s as she smiled at him. And I cover you, when I have the money. 

We should both have the fucking money. Ben’s hands gripped Her body against him, and she must have read his next thought on his face, because She frowned and shook her head. 

Do not use the meeting with Singer to demand a pay raise, Benjamin. That’s not what it’s for. 

It’s not a pay raise, my love, it’s a fucking union. You and I aren’t going to do more of their shit for them until they give us some goddamn money- 

We both know we’re not going to unionize. She sighed, her breath passing into Ben’s m. We might not be legally dead anymore, but we’re still not CIA employees. 

We should be-

You’d have to do an interview with Mallory. Amusement danced in Her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. And they’d run a background check. You can’t even do a background check, Benjamin, your social security number is negative five. 

Shut up. I am not fucking old, and we still need some goddamn money. I’ll tongue Butcher’s taint before I become these pussies fucking maid-

We’ll make money. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Ben’s mouth. If escorts don’t pan out, we can try birthday parties. I know a guy who has a very authentic Soldier Boy costume, and I think he’ll let me borrow it if I give him a blowjob.

Ben snorted. He’d let you borrow it if you asked him real pretty and made him a bagel, Sunshine, but I’m not doing fucking birthday parties- 

You wouldn’t even have to talk. I’d stand behind a curtain, and I can say everything for you. The kids would never know the difference. She grinned as Her voice in Ben’s head dropped to that gravelly impression of him. Hi, I’m Soldier Boy. New York. Eagles. Baseball. Boobs. Don’t do crack, kids, do Benzedrine. Don’t wear blue, it’s a pussy color, wear green. And if you’re ever in a fight, go for the other guy’s dick. I’m a million fucking years old, and I sing Rainbow Connection in the shower when I think nobody can hear, and I know you can fucking hear me Sunshine, but you don’t goddamn count-

Ben buried his head in Her neck, sucking and biting that one spot until her words trailed off into a tiny whimper.

Brat.

Cunt. Her voice was soft and needy, and Ben smirked against Her, kissing a wet trail up her jaw and over her face. Ben-

I love you so fucking much, Sunshine. He kissed around her pretty, already open mouth, trailing his tongue over her lips. And if we didn’t have company, I’d fuck you right here.

Ben felt Her heartbeat pick up under his careful, firm touches, but she didn’t pull away. We get our own room tonight, She let out a small, breathy sigh as Ben deepened the kiss. If you can keep it in your pants for a little while longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

How much longer.

She pulls away from him slightly, reaching between their bodies to grab Her phone. She paused as she swiped at Her screen, looking up at Ben with a frown. We really need to get you another phone-

Later. How much longer until I get to fuck you. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. Horny old man- 

Needy fucking brat. Ben shifted Her above him, letting his half-hard cock push between Her thighs, gritting his teeth as her legs tightened around him. How much- 

An hour. She dropped her phone back between their bodies, wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck and lowering her face so their cheeks brushed. Think you can make it? 

Ben scoffed, moving one hand down to squeeze at Her ass and smirking at her soft squeak in his ear. I’ll manage, Sunshine. 

He wasn’t going to manage. They fell into an easy silence, Her body curled over Ben’s and her hands playing thoughtlessly with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the longer they stayed like that the more he needed her. She still smelled like that flower shampoo, but there was grass lingering over it, and a third smell that invaded Ben’s senses and so clearly just fucking Her. It was like the goddamn apples in their apartment, and chocolate, and warm smoke and the fucking sun. Ben didn’t have a better way to put it, because really it was just fucking Her. Like an aphrodisiac or song that tugged on something in his brain and called him home. Back to Her, closer to Her, always with Her.

It probably fucking was Her. That piece of her that was alive inside of him, growing stronger and stronger the longer it stayed. 

Ben had no fucking intention of letting it leave. If holding Her like this—sitting in complete goddamn silence and caring for every perfect piece of her in his arms and mind—was what this part of Her needed to thrive, he’d hold her like this forever. She lived in Ben because he was safe to her. She given this part of her to him—even if She hadn’t actually meant to—and he’d never fail Her and let it feel pain. 

He fucking loved Her, and she was all around him in every fucking way but the one that was starting to strain at his pant, and that sense of her everywhere wasn’t doing him any favors to make it through the hour. He wanted to make that piece of Her light up inside him, watch her perfect, beautiful face grow blissfully relaxed and adoring as he worshiped Her. Prove to Her that he thought she was too fucking kind and good for anyone at all, but he’d never let Her be wrong about him. If She said that Ben was repenting, he’d do whatever trial was laid out before him to prove Her right.

But as much as he wanted to bury himself deep inside of Her and mutter praise he meant and promises he’d always fucking keep, the hum of Her heart was growing slower and softer, and Ben realized she’d fallen asleep. He could feel a small amount of drool on his neck—her hair tickling his nose and her grip on his neck becoming slack—and he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face. She was fucking safe here, where Ben was allowed to touch her in small ways that made her hum in sleep against his skin. Where he could trace patterns on Her hips, keep a steady arm around her waist, and let a hand move slowly up her spine to tangle in her hair until she fell further into him was a content sigh. Ben kept his breathing even and slow, his eyes on the rest of their team in a warning of keep it the fuck down, or I’ll crack your head open, so nothing could disturb her sleep.

She didn’t have a single fucking nightmare. No smoke rose from Her body, and no distressed, strangled sounds escaped her mouth. Everything in Ben felt right and a little high, so he knew she was really, truly, really fucking good. And when the limo finally stopped and Butcher turned to address them from the front, Ben’s respect for their team fucking doubled as a chorus of hissed be quiets filled the limo.

Butcher scoffed. “She’s a big girl, she don’t need a nap-“

“Butcher,” MM whispered, his tone and expression venomous. “If you wake her up, I’m not going to stop Soldier Boy from killing you.” 

“Oh, come off it, Mate-“ 

“She never sleeps well, you asshole,” Annie’s voice was hushed, her eyes turning to Ben’s. “When was the last time she had a real, full night of sleep?” 

Ben couldn’t fucking remember. Even after she’d stopped taking the suppressants, she still woke up screaming and wrapped and fire and sobbing about fucking blood. She fell back asleep easier now, but Ben had received countless fucking burns across his arms and face as he held Her down, trying to bring her back to earth before she flew off the bed and burned right through the fucking roof. She always healed the twisted for him if they weren’t gone by morning, and Ben always fucked Her after to chase off any useless goddamn guilt in her eyes, but it kept happening. He didn’t know how to fix it, other than only staying, just like she’d asked. 

Annie must have seen the clench of his jaw—images of Her perfect face empty and hollow and broken flashing in Ben’s brain, echoes of her screams ringing in his ears—because she turned back to Butcher with a glare. “You just have to lower your voice, Butcher. Don’t be a dick.”

Butcher’s attention darted to Her—still steadily asleep against Ben—and rolled his eyes as he dropped his voice. “We got four rooms, and all the lovey dovey cunts will be sharin.” Butcher threw keycards to MM and Ben, who caught their’s with ease, and Hughie, who made a small yelp as Annie’s arm shot out, catching it for him. “Meetin with Singer is at 8am, and we got to be there at 7. You lot will meet me here at 6, and I don’t want to see your sorry fuckin faces until then.”

Ben could live with that. It was a little past midnight, and six hours of sleep was a fuck ton more than She usually got, so he’d take it and rest at Her side until morning. He shifted Her in his arms—moving her carefully up his chest, looping one arm under her knees—and carried her out of the limo, into the back entrance of the hotel, and up the stairs. MM had grabbed their suitcase, and Ben gave him a silent, firm nod as MM pushed into their room.

A hand shot out before Ben could kick the door closed, and MM’s gaze bore into Ben’s skull, his voice low. “She okay?” 

She would be. As long as Ben could do a goddamn thing about it, She’d be okay for the rest of her fucking life. “She’s good,” Ben grunted, glancing down to Her perfect, peaceful face, half smushed into his shoulder, hair falling over her eyes. So fucking beautiful, and happily where she belonged. “I’m taking care of her.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. It certainly wasn’t for MM’s fucking approval, because the only person whose approval mattered was Hers. And Ben did take care of Her. He took very fucking good care of Her, because he fucking loved her, and she was the most important person in the world. And he sure as fuck didn’t need to say that he took care of Her, because he proved that he did in his every waking moment. 

Even right fucking now Ben was carrying her to bed, holding Her like she was something holier than life—she was—and planning to stay at Her side all night. Wrap his arms around her and hold her in the dark, then march at her side in the morning to face whatever the hell Singer had ready for them. And then he’d figure out where they kept lobster in DC, and get her some. And that’s what fucking mattered. Showing Her she was good. Only saying he was taking care of her wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing if he didn’t keep doing it, over and over and over until they were the last people left in the world, and a long while after that.

But MM gave a short nod, and Ben realized that the man had just believed him. MM might not fully trust Ben—and if he was being completely fucking honest that was still an understandable call, Ben would shoot everyone in the fucking head if they became a threat to Her or Ryan—but he trusted Ben with this. With Her. He trusted that when Ben said she’s good, he was telling the truth. 

And he was. With a muttered reminder from MM not to be late in the morning and the door closing—leaving Ben and Her alone, together with the nightlights of the city casting shadows over her sleeping features—She was happy. Content as Ben laid her down on the bed, keeping one hand on her thigh as he unzipped their suitcase. He found one of his softer shirts and—a little selfishly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad or give a fuck because She wore his clothing all the goddamn time anyway—changed her into it. She shouldn’t sleep in fucking jeans or her bra, so Ben carefully stripped her down—every movement debilitate and slow and silent so as not to disturb or wake her—and pulled his shirt over her body, kissing her brow before sitting at the edge of their bed and trying to figure out how the fuck to get them food.

This wasn’t the same hotel as last time, but shit had always worked the same at every hotel in history, so Ben figured it out. He read the directory, called room service, and ordered everything.

“And, um,” a nervous, soft-voiced woman was on the other end of the line, listing off more shit for Ben to add to his list. “Would you like dessert, sir?”

“Of course I want fucking dessert-“

Don’t be mean to the hotel staff, Benjamin. Ben cut himself off as Her arms wrapped around his torso, and looked down to see her head in his lap, her face buried in his abdomen. They’re doing their best, and it’s late. 

Ben sighed, letting his free hand wander into her hair, and grunted into the phone, “dessert is good. Add it.” 

“Do you have anything in mind, or would you like, um, all of it too?” 

Sunshine- 

I’d like ice cream. She hummed against him, and Ben felt her soft smile against his body. Whatever flavor you want. 

“Ice cream,” Ben muttered, his eyes locked on Her, tucked and resting against him, so fucking perfect. “Vanilla. Two of them.” 

A small giggle escaped Her. You’re very predictable, Pretty Boy. 

Shut the fuck up. 

“That will come to,” Ben heard the lady on the other end swallow, and there was a moment of static silence on the phone. “$492. Are you sure-“

“Get me the fucking food lady, and I’ll give you a 20% tip.” 

Ben had no idea how much that would be, but the woman seemed happy with it, because she gave him an eager agreement before hanging up the line. 

“Food will be here soon,” Ben muttered Her name, and his heart might’ve stopped fucking working when she rolled over in his lap, a beautiful, sleepy expression on her perfect face. “You’re-“ 

“Don’t say tired, or I’ll punch you.” She grumbled, poking at Ben’s chest with a pout. “You’re not allowed to do that right now.”

“I didn’t do fucking shit-”

“You were going to,” she mumbled, face flushing. “You were going to make me go to sleep.” 

“We both know,” Ben drawled, smirking as he traced his thumb over her lips. “That I can’t make you do anything, darling. You never fucking listen to me.”

She buried her face back into Ben’s body, words muffled against his skin. “Fuck you.”

“I did promise to.” He hummed, glancing at the red numbers on their bedside table, reading 12:49. “But you need fucking sleep. We’re moving real damn early tomorrow, and you-“

“How early?”

“Six.”

She sighed against him, and Ben felt the alarm of wrong. Something is very wrong, because She’s hurting and that’s the worst fucking thing in the universe. 

He grunted Her name, pulling lightly at her hair. “Look at me.” 

When She rolled fully onto her back—Her eyes not hollow, but glossed over and soft—she just watched him. Waited for Ben to speak, one of her hands reaching up to touch his jaw, the whole fucking world just them. Together.

“What’s wrong. And don’t say nothing-“

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.” She whispered, and Ben froze. She sounded so fucking tired, and it was wrapping around his head and dragging his body down. Down to Her, to soothe her, to touch her and fucking fix this. “I know we have to, but I don’t want to, Ben. I’m,” she took a heavy breath. “I don’t want to.” 

“Then we fucking won’t.” He snapped. It was pretty goddamn simple. He’d steal them a car, and they’d drive home. The rest of the team could handle this, and that was fucking that- 

“We need to.” She gave Ben a small, sad smile, and he felt like someone was fucking stabbing him. “You know we need to. I have to be there for this-“ 

“You don’t have to-“ 

“I do.” She sat up, twisting until their legs were tangled and she was leaning against him, holding Ben’s face in her hands. “I have to. I need to see him.” 

Ben's arms wrapped around Her body as he scanned over her face. Only inches from his, so goddamn sad and tired, a so fucking beautiful. “Muller.”

She nodded, and Ben’s was going to break his teeth. For that pussies' own sake, Muller better be too much of a goddamn coward to show face tomorrow, or Ben would damn the consequences and kill him. V or no V, he was still someone that was fucking hurting Her. As She spoke her voice was too quiet, and her eyes looked so goddamn far away, and Ben felt fucking sick.

“He never,” She swallowed, and Ben remained silent. Right now his job was to fucking listen, and he was damn good at it. Rubbing circles on her lower back, holding whatever of her gaze she gave him, and watching her the whole time. “He never acknowledged I was dead. Or alive. Or anything.” She sighed, leaning her brow against Ben’s. “I don’t want to talk to him, Ben. I don’t want to hear what he believes.”

“Believes-“ 

“About me.” She mumbled, Her eyes closed and heartbeat not fast, but uneven. “What Homelander and Sage have said, what Annie’s said, and-“ She shook her head, nose brushing Ben’s. “Everything. All of it. What I’ve done, and what happened to me. Who I might be, if I’m a whore, or bitch, or liar, or traitor-”

Ben muttered Her name, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke. “You’re not any of that. He’s not your fucking family. He’s a worthless pussy, and if he believes the wrong shit it doesn’t change the goddamn truth.”

“I know. I know, it doesn’t, but-“ 

“No.” Ben moved at hand up, pulling one of Hers off his face as kissing her knuckles. “No fucking but-“ 

“Please,” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben’s whole body hurt as he fell silent.“I’m not worried about Muller, Ben. I’m worried about my,” Her hand tangled in Ben’s, her grip like iron as she took a long breath. “I’m worried about my mom. He’s just an extension of her, and whatever he believes-” 

She cut Herself off with a half-sob, and Ben let smoke curl between their fingers, not flinching away as heat started to burn his skin. He’d hold Her through this fall and catch Her at the end. He’d always fucking catch her, but he knew she had to fall first. Ben had to hear everything spiraling through her insane, perfect brain so he could get his words fucking right when it was his turn to speak.

“I,” She took a shaking breath, and there was something tight and curled in her throat that Ben could feel. “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years, and I shouldn’t care, and I’ve had worse things-“ She made another strangled noise, her heart bouncing around her ribs. “Worse things happen to me since. But it still hurts, everything hurts. She said I wasn’t strong enough to be alone, Homelander said I’m not strong enough, and I’m not, Ben, I’m not. I’m so tired. And I’m so sick of being tired, but I’m not, I’m not strong enough to just fucking be better-“

That was enough. Ben had all he fucking needed to pull Her back down, and he’d be damned if he let Her think for another fucking second that she wasn’t fucking everything. 

“You don’t need to be fucking better, you are better.” Ben tilted his head up, her words falling into soft tears that made something flail around in his gut, and kissed the space between her eyes as he muttered against her skin. “No matter fucking what, you’re better. You’re not whatever the fuck they think you are. Any of them. They don’t know you, Sunshine, I fucking know you. And you’re smart and good and kind and beautiful and a goddamn powerful fucking problem and you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect, so stop being stupid.”

She made a choked sound, fully falling against him, and as her arms wrapped around Ben’s neck all Her love bloomed in his body. It hurt, it fucking ripped him apart inside as she sobbed into him, shaking slightly in his hands and clinging to him like he was an anchor. Something holding Her together, that she trusted to keep her safe, and She fucking did. Because Ben folded his body over hers, and touched her right, and waited for this to pass. It always fucking passed, and they both knew it would return, but then they’d just wait it out together once more. Every single fucking thing would pass but them. She’d stay planted in Ben, covering everything in him and the world, and if they burned they’d burn together. And that was where the love in her made this pain worth it by a million fucking fold. Because this hurt—this killed Ben and lined cracks along his skull, twisting and rotting something in his heart—but then it passed, and everything was warm. Turning the rot to smoke, healing every crack, and spreading through Ben’s veins like a fucking drug. Like something sacred, that everyone chased but Ben got to have. That he’d somehow managed to earn, just by loving Her and caring for her and staying.

So when this passed, and Her breathing still ragged but her heart growing even, Her voice in Ben’s head was soft but not weak. She couldn’t be fucking weak if she tried. I’m sorry.

Before Ben could grunt between them for her to never fucking apologize, She looked up at him with a beautiful, full-lipped, toothless smile, her face glistening with evaporated tears. 

What’s- 

I don’t think this is how meeting the parents is supposed to go. I think we’re supposed to have dinner at an Olive Garden and not talk about Homelander at all.

Ben snorted, kissing the top of Her head. I don’t give fuck about Olive Garden- 

That’s not very family-oriented of you, Benjamin- 

And I don’t give a fuck about your parents. I care about you, Sunshine, and I have no fucking interest in impressing idiots pussies who don’t. 

Her love was fucking infinite in Ben’s body, and nobody had ever fucking looked at him like that but Her. Like She believed him, but didn’t believe he was real. Would you, um, I mean I know we’ve been keeping Violet away from this, but after, my dad and my other siblings- 

He grunted Her name between them, and a pretty flush covered her face. Whoever you want me to meet, I will. But if I think they’re being asshole cockheads, I’m not fucking standing for it. I love you, and nobody is allowed to tell you who the fuck you are- 

You tell me who I am all the time, She gave him an amused look. You literally just told me who I was.

Ben rolled his eyes. That’s not the fucking same. I’m not a pussy dumb fuck talking out of my ass, you’re the love of my fucking life and you were being an idiot. You’re not weak, and I’m not going to let people who don’t goddamn know shit tell you that you are- 

She kissed him, soft and sweet, her hands gliding up his chest to hold his jaw. Thanksgivings are going to be really awkward, if you call my family a bunch of fucking pussies the whole time.

Ben smirked against her. Good thing those pussies aren’t invited to our thanksgiving.

Who is-

Nobody. It’s going to be me, you, and a massive fucking sex marathon. 

She giggled, and even though the sound was quiet, it was real. She was fucking happy, here, with Ben. Not even going to pretend we’ll invite our friends? 

No. Ben twisted his face in half-mocked disgust. We’re going to need the entire goddamn turkey to ourselves, to make sure you have enough energy. I will not have you fucking tagging out before we get started. 

All I hear, She pulled back, and that was Her full smile. Her wide, infinite smile that contained the whole universe and was made of something so fucking bright and vital Ben would never find anything like it if he tried. Is that you’re not denying they’re our friends. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Impossibly clever, beautiful, perfect fucking woman, backing him into corners and knowing him too fucking well. He didn’t have an argument out of it, because if he said they weren’t she’d push it and win—something starting with our friends care about me, and ending with and you trust them with Ryan and I—and if he just agreed he’d never hear the goddamn end of it, so his only avenue was to roll her onto her back, leaving sloppy, wet kiss all over her face as she laughed and let out blissful sighs, muttering brat and fucking love you, Sunshine against her skin and down her throat right up until someone knocked on the door.

Her eyes grew comically wide as Ben dumped their order of food on the hotel table, her face falling into a plainly adorable gape as she looked up at him. “Did you order thanksgiving? I can’t eat all of this-“

“Then take whatever the fuck you want,” Ben looped his arm around Her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned onto his shoulder. “And I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”

She smiled at him, tilting her head to kiss his cheek, and hummed against him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a dog.”

He scowled. “I am not a fucking dog-“

“You are, my love. You’re a massive fucking puppy, and I adore you.” 

Ben is pretty goddamn sure his heart stopped working and then got jumpstarted within the same fucking millisecond. She’d tugged herself away from him—filling up one of the paper plates hotel services had brought up before shuffling back to the bed, waiting for Ben to join her with a patient, expectant gaze—and he had to make his feet move. He’d wanted to stay there for the rest of his fucking life, where She’d called him my love, and he’d understood why her heart always skipped when Ben said it. He was Her’s. Every single fucking part of Ben was Her’s, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about the dog comment, because She was fucking right. He’d follow her everywhere, and snarl at what threatened her, and taking whatever fucking scraps she offered him of her love.

He’d never have enough of Her love. It was better than any drug or drink or high, and it was for Ben. It was all goddamn his, and if that meant he had to be a fucking pathetic dog for Her, then so goddamn be it. Anyone would do that, love Her how she asked, because it made Her fucking smile and chased off the pain faster.

And Ben had learned that, in his life, he’d really only despised two people. He’d hated a lot of people, but that was hatred born of vengeance and a sour, white-hot fury that had festered in his body for most of his life and found an avenue out through the drums. Despising people wasn’t the same. It was born of true, raw, pure disgust and loathing. A channel for that fury that wasn’t about Ben’s own anger, but about twisting and morphing the fury into ardor and zealous protection. Turning the drums and wrath into something better, that targeted the only two pussy fucking idiots who made Her fucking cry. The only two asshole cum-fucks who knew exactly how to hurt Her, and weaponized it, making Her sob against Ben as she broke.

Nobody made Her fucking cry but Homelander and her mother. She made herself cry sometimes, but that wasn’t the fucking same. That was born of how much She cared and loved everything, and how she seemed to remember every goddamn thing anyone ever said and took it as gospel—when it fucking wasn’t—to who she was. When Homelander and her mother made Her cry, it was born of something evil. Something evil and cold and horrid and covered in bile and guts to carve her open. 

Ben would kill Homelander, if not for the world, for Her. And despite the truth that he had no fucking interest in trying to entertain anyone in Her life who made her fucking cry like that, he still wanted to meet her mother. Not to kill her, but just put the fear of God in her. Make the woman understand that her daughter was a goddamn miracle on Earth, and Ben was going to love Her until it was just them in a ruined world, watching the stars and laying in the grass and smiling. He’d love her like the perfect, dangerous, beautiful thing that had crawled to him covered in blood and dirt and grime that she was, wrapped in fire and still seeking warmth. Ben wanted to sneer at Her mother to never try to fucking bother them, because if the woman said one wrong thing to Her, Ben wouldn’t tolerate it. There wasn’t a fucking chance he was letting anyone make her look all fucking sad, when She was meant to be happy. He might not cut out tongues when people misstepped, but he’d stay wrapped around Her, a silent reminder to the world—to Her mother—that Ben loved Her, and she’d always fucking have him. However She wanted Ben, she’d get him. 

Ben would always hate that she never got to meet his mother, because they’d have fucking loved each other. His mother would’ve liked Her, a bit because everyone fucking liked Her, but mostly because She was better than Ben was. She was better thanany other pussy in the universe, and She was smart, and kind, and clever, and the type of beautiful his mother would’ve said made gods jealous. That was what his mother had always said he should find, even after he’d become Soldier Boy,and he’d never fucking gotten what the hell it meant before Her. He’d had countless beautiful women in his bed, and not one would’ve made gods jealous. They were just beautiful. There was so much fucking beauty in the world, and Soldier Boy got all of it, and Ben had decided that the made gods jealous shit was just something a mother told her son. 

He got it now though. She was the type of beauty that made gods fucking jealous. Because she was the type of beautiful they wrote stories about, made art and castles and temples for, and searched through the world to learn more words for beauty just to fucking compare Her to. And all the beauty in the universe lived inside of Her, and she was fucking perfect. So Ben’s mother would’ve loved Her, because she carried Ben’s whole fucking world just by existing. He’d have sat in silence as they talked about whatever the fuck mothers and daughters talked about, and She’d have hit him halfway through the conversation to ask him his opinion, then made a joke about his opinion with joy and love in Her eyes and Ben’s body, and he’d have smiled at Her, and when they stood up to leave his mother would’ve hugged Her and that would’ve been it. It would’ve confirmed something that Ben already fucking knew, but still wanted his mother to know as well. 

And something still sour and angry in Ben wished he could introduce Her to his father. One, quick meeting just to say fuck you, you old pussy. I am worth something, because I’m repenting, and I’m fighting for people I care about, and the most perfect woman in fucking history loves me, and she’s never wrong. Ben wouldn’t let his father speak to Her—he barely deserved to be in Her presence—but he’d brag about her. Tell his father that She was a brilliant fucking woman, and a fucking doctor, and never took any goddamn shortcuts, and She loved Ben. To tell his father that their last name would die with him, and he’d rot in a grave for the rest of time while She and Ben were fucking happy, and Ben gave her the world. 

He’d give this perfect fucking menace—curled at his side, wearing his shirt and eating chicken nuggets like a fucking animal—whatever she wanted or needed and asked for. His lungs and heart and guts out of his body, the sun to hold in her hands, a hundred fucking trees planted in her name. Ben would offer his life on a silver platter for Her to do whatever she pleased with it, which is why he almost snorted when She started stealing looks at his food, chewing on her lips and eyeing his fries like she hadn’t just practically fucking inhaled her own. 

He dumped them onto her plate without a word, and when Her face lit up with joy he didn’t fucking understand how anyone could fucking think to hurt Her. He was a little bias—not everyone was as fucking genius as Ben was to love her, or strong enough to be loved by her—but he still just didn’t goddamn get it. How a single goddamn pussy fucker could look at Her and consider being cruel to her. Even when he thought back to the beginning, Ben had never wanted to hurt her. He’d found Her annoying, and been mad about the whole borderline blackmailing shit, but he’d never wanted to make her cry. Her crying had always set off something primal and feral and confusing in his body, making his every thought this is fucking wrong. Something like Her shouldn’t hurt or be in pain. 

Ben coughed, and her pretty eyes shot up to meet his with a little bit of sauce hanging on her lip. Sauce that Ben got to wipe off with his thumb, eat, and smirk as Her mouth remained parted and her heart kicked into a faster gear.

“Ben-“

“I haven’t had a thanksgiving since the 50s.” Ben grunted, and wasn’t fucking sure where this was coming from. All he did know was that She fell silent to listen, and the words started to fucking vomit out of him, and he needed Her to understand that She was his family. That he’d never allow himself to be someone who made her cry. “And it was fucking shit. Food was fine, drinks were weak, and I went because my mother begged me to. Nobody seemed to get why I was there, my own family didn’t fucking know me because my father didn’t let my mom talk about me, and all I did the whole night was answer fucking Soldier Boy questions.” 

She blinked at him. “What are Soldier Boy questions?” 

“What was the war like,” Ben grunted. “If I shoot you will it hurt. Think you can fucking outdrink me or beat me in a race. Elvis and Sinatra a good time, Garland a good fuck. I wore my fucking supe suit there because I’d be shipping off to film some fucking movie in the morning, and my father didn’t look at me the whole time. I left early, and that was the fucking end of it. But,” Ben swallowed, and suddenly this was impossibly fucking difficult. He had to get this right. “I’d try it again. I could kill a turkey and you could burn it, and if you want the team we could fuck after they leave-“

“Ben.”

He cut himself off, and Her smile was so simply fucking sweet. It wasn’t the syrupy, over exaggerated and slightly crude one she gave when people tried to make her be nice when the situation didn’t fucking call for it. This was all fucking love and affection and want for Ben.

“When we get to November,” she whispered, and Ben’s whole body was frozen in place. As if, should he blink, he’d miss a single word or moment of her love. “I’d love to do thanksgiving with you and the team. I’d love to do anything with you, except killing the turkey.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s gross.”

She’d love to do anything with him. She’d love to do anything with Ben.

“Good,” he muttered, moving their plates off to the side and pulling her with him towards the headboard, moving her to rest between his legs, his arms wrapping over her stomach as he kissed her neck and hummed in her ear. “Whatever the fuck you want, beautiful, as long as you’re not cooking.”

She twisted around in his hold, pushing his chest lightly as he grinned at her. “Fucking rude, Benjamin. I can cook perfectly well now, and I certainly a whole lot better than you are-“

“You’re better at most things than I am,” Ben shrugged. “And fuck me for trying to stop everyone from eating your piss-poor pie and getting fucking poisoned-“ 

“You love my pie. You won’t shut the fuck up about my pie.” There was a smug, proud look in her eyes at her dogshit innuendo, and Ben snorted. 

“That might be the only thing you’re not good at,” Ben said her name, kneading his hands against her skin. “That didn’t even make goddamn sense-“ 

“Fuck you, Ben, you got hard-“ 

“Because you’re fucking sitting on me, darling.” He leaned down, nipping at Her lower lip. “And that will always make me hard.” 

Her heart stumbled in her chest. “Shut up.” 

“No. I love you, and I’m never going to fucking apologize for wanting to fuck my woman.” Ben winked at Her. “And I always want to fuck you.” 

She cleared her throat, and her gaze was suddenly sharp. Her love still lived in Ben—running up and down his spine, eternal and so fucking powerful it might consume him, and he’d let it—but Her fingers were tapping on Ben’s chest, the gears of Her impossibly brilliant mind turning behind her eyes. 

“Ben?” 

He grunted, the grunt she’d said meant he was listening to her, and she let out a long breath. 

“Do you, have you thought about after?”

“After what.” 

“After this.” She made a gesture to the air, eyes still locked onto Ben’s. “All of this. If we kill Homelander-“ 

“When. When we fucking kill Homelander-” 

She gave him a flat look. “When we kill Homelander. What do you, um, what do you want after?” 

Ben knew exactly what he fucking wanted. Her. Whatever way he got to have her, he wanted her. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fucking dumbass, so he hesitated. One fucking second too long, because something is her eyes looked wounded, and Ben had to talk right fucking now. She deserved to be told with all the fucking poetry and art in the fucking universe, but that wasn’t Ben. He didn’t know how the hell to do that, but she also didn’t want anyone but Ben, so he settled on his way. The blunt, clear as fucking day truth.

He said Her name, moving a hand up to cup her cheek, letting his thumb run over her cheekbone. “Whatever the hell you want, I want as well. That’s fucking that.” 

“But I want to knowwhat you want.” She mumbled, hands fisting in his shirt. “I, I just want to hear about it. Don’t worry about, um,” her tongue peaked out from her lips, her chewing becoming rapid with Her heart. “Anything. What I’ll think, how I’ll react. I just want to know.” 

Ben’s hand on her hips stilled, and he clung to Her—alive inside him—to make sure She was serious. He had the feeling they both knew what Ben wanted, but he’d had no desire to say it aloud. Not when Homelander was still fucking alive, still trying to hurt her, and had been so fucking close to crossing that final, horrible, unspeakable line once more barely a few months ago.

But She was content inside of him. There wasn’t any sickness or cold or sense of wrong, only the pleading look in Her eyes and her hands turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between them as she waited. 

“Swear that if you start to-“ 

“I’ll stop you,” She whispered, holding Ben’s gaze. “I promise. Please tell me.” 

“I want this.” He muttered, a careful ear on Her heart for the slightest stutter. “I want you and me, for the rest of fucking time.” 

He stopped, and hoped that was enough. And of course, it fucking wasn’t. 

She dropped her face on his shoulder. “And?” 

“That’s it-“ 

“Where do you want us to be?” She mumbled, and Ben could feel her eyes on his as she turned her head. “Rome? A little no name town? New York, LA-“

“No. Not fucking LA-“ 

“Then where-“ 

“Wherever the fuck you are, I’ll be fine-“ 

“Ben.” His eyes moved to watch her without his fucking permission. “I want to know what you want-“ 

“That is what I fucking want.” He grunted. “I just fucking want you and whatever the hell you want I’ll be good with. I don’t give a fuck where we are, because I’ll be there with you, and that’s what I want. If you want a little fucking postcard town, then we’ll go there. I’ll get a job in the woods so I don’t have to see anyone but you, and you can do whatever the fuck you want all day. If you want Rome, we’ll get you there and do the escort plan until we have a fucking mansion, and I’ll fuck you in every corner of it. If you ask I’ll fuck you full of kids, until we can run our own goddamn little league.” Ben had started, and now he couldn’t fucking stop. “If you want to stay in New York, we’ll find a goddamn apartment and have Annie and Hughie over for lunch, and I’ll take you to stupid fucking movies and we’ll dance the kitchen and sit on the roof until I carry you to bed. If you want to travel the world and help people, I’ll be right at your fucking side, and if you just want to go back to Boston I’ll be there as well. We can have a shitty house that’s older than I am, and you’ll do your decorating shit and be nice to all our stupid neighbors. You can do whatever the fuck smart people do, and I can teach our kids to fucking hate all your stupid sports teams, and we’ll drive them down to the fucking Cape for the summer, and when everyone’s asleep I’ll bring you outside and fuck you on the beach. I’ll fuck you anywhere, Sunshine. I’ll be fucking happy anywhere, because I’ll be wherever you are. So I don’t care what you give me, kids or no kids or a house or a fucking dumpster. As long as you’re there, I’ll be good.” 

Before Ben had even fucking finished speaking, She was smiling at him. And it was all raw fucking joy. “Okay,” She whispered, and rose back up Ben’s body, pressing her brow to his and still fucking smiling. “I’d like that.” 

“Which-“ 

“All of it.” She made a small, blissful sound. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t tell Her not to thank him. Ben just allowed one arm wrap around her waist, and his hand moved up to hold the back of Her head. He let their lips brush, but not further, and muttered. “I fucking love you, Sunshine. I’m serious-“ 

“I know you are.” Her hands glided down Ben’s chest, pushing Herself a little higher up, a little closer, on his chest. “You’re a huge, very serious, grumpy old cunt.” She closed the last bit of space between them, her lips fitting so fucking perfectly against Ben’s, her body melting into his like it was fucking meant to. Her words hummed through Ben’s blood, setting him alight. “And I love you too.” 

It was all he needed. Ben rolled the over, caging Her between him and the mattress—safe, fucking safe and goddamn happy—without ever breaking their kiss. Ben let her hands roam over his body, let her tug his shirt up and her hands trace paths over the bare skin of his chest and torso that lit him on fucking fire. 

“Off,” She mumbled into Ben’s mouth, pulling his shirt further up his chest. “Off, Ben, please-“ 

Ben raised himself up—keeping her against the bed, pinned under his weight by his thighs—and half ripped his shirt off his body before immediately returning. Propping himself up on one elbow, diving down to her neck and sucking and biting a path that made Her sigh, a whining and high sound, and grind up into his torso. 

“Want you,” he muttered Her name against her skin, his free hand moving under Her shirt—Ben’s shirt—to play with the waistline of her panties. “Want you all the fucking time, Sunshine. What do you-“ 

“You,” Her answer was breathless, soft and high and ending in a slight whine as Ben’s thumb pressed right over Her clothed clit. “Want you, Ben, please. Need you.“ 

He groaned as one of Her hands slid between their bodies, palming at his cock, tenting against Her thighs. “How do you-“ 

“Don’t care, just want you-“ 

Ben decided to do it slow. Gentle and fucking sweet. Too good, and all Ben’s to praise and tend to and revere. So he pulled his shirt off Her body—carefully this time, because it did fucking things to Ben when she wore his clothing and he never wanted to take that away from himself—and pressed his palm over her soaked panties, kissing a line down between and under her breasts, rising back up to take a nipple in his mouth, smirking at the high squeak that left her mouth as he sucked. 

Her hands had shot into his hair, her chest heaving as Ben continued his work, starting to roll his hand over her clit. “Ben-“

You’re so fucking beautiful, Sunshine. He let his teeth graze over her—forcing himself to keep focus as she bucked her hips up—and switched to the other nipple. Can’t believe you’re all fucking mine. So fucking good for me, darling, so goddamn perfect. 

“Please-“ 

She cut herself off with a whine as Ben flicked his tongue, his palm pushing down against her, halting her movements up into him. 

Want to fucking show you how perfect you are, my love. Let me fucking show you- 

Please, Ben, fuck, please- 

He grinned at the breathless tone of Her voice between their minds, and surged back up, crashing his mouth into Hers and kissing her until she moaned. Long and desperate, half a sound of need and half his name, already fucking wrecked without friction, Ben holding her still under him. 

“Want you to be loud,” he grunted Her name into her mouth. “Talk to me, tell me how fucking good it feels-“ 

She nodded frantically, and Ben chuckled. 

“Words-“ 

“Feels good,” She mumbled, words practically fucking slurred. “Feels so good, Ben, god-“ 

“Have I told you,” he drawled, swallowing Her whimper as he pressed his hand further against her. “How much you consume my every fucking thought. How much I think about you, how it’s a goddamn problem, how much I adore and love you?” 

“You’ve-“ She took a ragged breath as Ben’s head dropped to suck and lick at her neck. “I think you’ve mention it-“ 

“See, I still think you don’t fucking understand.” Ben bit at her skin and she rolled Her hips, pulling at his hair. “You’re my fucking life, Sunshine. And I’ll say it until you get it into your pretty head. You’re perfect, every single goddamn part of you. You’re too fucking clever, darling, so good and kind and brilliant.” Ben trailed back up, tugging at Her ear and kissing over her cheekbone before pressing his brow to hers. 

“Ben-“ 

He chuckled as she tried to chase his mouth, and started to rub large circles against her clit with his palm, tracing his fingers over the slit of her pussy, still covered by her underwear. 

“Fuck-“ 

“I can fucking feel that sharp, insane mind of yours inside me, beautiful.” He dropped his mouth just an inch further down, holding himself where their lips brushed as he spoke, but no further. “And I love you there the most. Love how fucking bright you are, Sunshine. This mouth of yours is so fucking smart,” he traced his lips over Hers, and she whimpered, eyes blown out and wide on his. “And you can be such a fucking brat, darling, but I goddamn love it. You’re my best fucking friend, and the most impossible fucking pain in my ass I could ever ask to love.”

She was fucking coming apart below him. Sighing in Ben’s mouth and letting him push his tongue down her throat, letting him kiss Her until he decided he should probably keep up with the plan he’d come up with, or else he’d just fucking kiss her until he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager.

Ben dragged his lips from Hers, and her sound of protest turned to a soft moan as Ben kissed every fucking inch of her face her could reach, love and want fucking rioting inside of him as she tried to move to offer him better access.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, dragging his hand up from her cunt to hold her face, running his fingers over her lips and cheekbones and jaw. “You’re a goddamn marvel, Sunshine, you’re fucking art.” 

“Benjamin-“ 

Her words were a long, breathy, desperate moan, and he dropped back down to her lips. “I know, my love. I’ll get there-”

“I want you there now, you fucking dick-“ 

“And you get my fucking dick,” Ben hummed Her name, feeling himself twitch in his pants as he glanced down at her body, squirming and grinding and fucking perfect under him. “Patience.” 

“I hate you-“ 

“You fucking love me.” He kissed back down Her neck, over her collarbones. You love how grumpy I am, and how hard I work, and my fucking dick. But I think what you love most, Ben squeezed where he was holding Her waist. Is how I fucking worship you like you deserve. Make you feel fucking good, Sunshine, take real good care of you- 

I, She took a long breath, hands tugging Ben’s face back up, Her eyes on his still lustful, but now soft as well. That’s not what I love most about you. 

He grunted Her name between their heads, but she pushed on. 

I love how much you care, period. You don’t half-ass anything, Benjamin, and that includes caring. I’ve never seen anyone care about anything so aggressively as you care about baseball and stupid war documentaries and ice cream. I’ve never been cared about as much as you care about me. I didn’t think it was possible to care about someone as much as you care about me. She smiled at him, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure his heart fucking exploded. You care about me and Ryan and everything else you love so violently and wrathfully and powerfully, and that’s what I love most about you.

Ben’s voice sounded fucking hoarse in his own head. Sunshine- 

But, She curled up, kissing Ben’s nose. It’s only one reason on a very long list, my love- 

That snapped something deep in Ben's head, and it cleared his brain to Her. Everything in the universe narrowed to Her. 

This kiss was fucking brutal. Ben’s hand fisted Her hair, his teeth and spit and tongue Hers as well, his whole body demanding more. He’d never been more fucking satiated, and he’d never be more fucking hungry.

I love you, he muttered Her name between their heads. I love every single goddamn thing about you. And I’ve got a whole fucking plan to show you, so for once in your goddamn life, let me do the talking, darling. Moan and scream and beg all you fucking want, but I talk.

But you said-

I changed my mind. No talking.

Ben-

Deal? 

She nodded, finger’s curling on Ben’s face as she writhed below him. Deal, fucking deal, just please- 

I’ve meant everything I said about how much I love you. How smart and kind and clever and perfect that mind of yours is. But fucking Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn wet dream. 

She moaned as Ben moved back to Her body, worshiping Her shoulder and neck and chest with his mouth, Her hips and waist and ass with his hands.

Every single fucking thing about you is goddamn perfection, but these, Ben returned his mouth to Her nipple, her moan only spurring him on. Were crafted by some sort of evil god. They’re fucking magic, beautiful, you could fucking win a war with them. He raised his spare hand to knead at Her other breast, and a strangled sound that sounded like his name left her mouth. 

“God, please-“ 

I talk. Ben squeezed Her one last time, flicking her nipple before switching to soothe the hurt with his tongue, and moved his hand back up to Her mouth. Be fucking good for me, darling, and listen.

Ben- 

He pressed his fingers between Her lips, and she didn’t fucking hesitate to start sucking on them. Licking and nipping and fucking moaning around him, and he groaned against Her tit. 

Fucking Christ, you’re going to kill me. He left one last kiss on her nipple, rising up just enough to watch her. You’re so fucking beautiful-

She whined, bucking up into Ben’s fully hard cock, and Her eyes on his were a plea.

Want to cum, Sunshine? 

She only nodded, kicking his abdomen, and he chuckled, pulling his fingers away with a pop.

Just a little longer, darling. Hold on for me.

Ben didn’t wait to see the desperation in Her eyes—he could feel it in his fucking body—before he was dropping back down, kissing between her breasts, over her stomach, and leaving one soft, fucking sweet kiss over her clothed clit before leaning back and ripping off her panties, admiring his handiwork.

She was fucking dripping. Soaking the sheets, so fucking perfect, and all goddamn Ben’s.

You’ve got the best fucking legs I’ve ever seen, he muttered into her head, kissing and biting a loose pattern over her inner thighs. Could fucking die here. But this, Ben parted Her swollen pussy lips, smirking at her small gasp. Is like a fucking drug. You’re always so fucking wet for me, my love, I don’t even need to prep you. But I think I will anyway.

Ben pushed two fingers into Her, pumping slowly and groaning as she squeezed around him. Then, just for his fucking self, Ben pulled Her clit into his mouth and sucked. Going and going without pointless shit like air, scissoring and pushing his fingers in deeper, and only stopping when She screamed, and his whole fucking face got soaked. He felt and smelled and tasted Her fucking everywhere, and it was like fucking water. Earthier and harsher and so fucking Her, but just as goddamn critical to Ben’s life now.

He pushed himself off of Her, rising back up to his knees and groaning at the sight of Her. Fucking glowing, goddamn ruined. Looking at Ben like he was something holy and sacred, and to Her, he was. He could feel it fucking everywhere, and taste it on his tongue as he licked his lips.

He hoped She fucking lingered there for the rest of time. That every night for the rest of his life, Ben could run a hand through his beard, and end up with his fingers fucking covered in Her. 

You fucking squirted.

She nodded, and—despite the fucking choir of Her love around Ben in the world—only moaned, reaching up for him. 

Think you can do it again? 

She whined, and Ben chuckled. 

Words, darling- 

Yes, fuck Ben, please- 

Good girl. 

She practically flew off the fucking bed as her hips jerked up, her heart stuttering with her breath. God, fuck, please- 

Ben grinned, and he could never fucking deny her anything, so he ripped his pants off, stroking himself once, twice—just to how fucking beautiful she was—and pushed himself in with a groan. He fell over Her as he bottomed out, and fuck She was perfect. Fluttering around him, fitting him like they’d been fucking designed to be as close as goddamn possible, gasping in Ben’s ear as Her hands clawed at his back. 

Ready, Sunshine? 

Just move, you ass- 

He kissed Her—bruising and demanding and made of all this fucking love for Her that consumed Ben’s whole goddamn existence—and obeyed. 

Ben didn’t think he’d ever worked harder than to memorize every single fucking part of Her. What every pout and glare and smile meant, how She said his name and every small way she existed around him—in music and movies and shows and books and the flowers in MM’s garden—and how She moved. Ben had learned Her like fucking she was a fucking testament to how he should live, and he took it goddamn seriously. It was what helped him know how to fuck Her right. How to angle himself inside her so he was hitting that spot that always made Her let out a strangled moan, how to kiss her in a fucking rhythm as he pounded himself into her, and that, if he groaned when She squeezed around him, she’d start to try and grind up into him. 

This was better than a fucking drug. This was fucking oxygen, how warm and tight she was around him, how when Ben deepened their kiss she opened up for him and scratched his back, how sensitive She was—leaning into his every touch, moaning at every muttered and growled praise—and how he could fucking feel Her. How fucking perfect She was, finally around him in every single possible way. So fucking bright, a green mist that smelled like pine and vanilla and damn strawberries covering the room as she shinedlike fucking star under Ben, Her eyes watching him like he was something good. 

Ben was something good, for Her. It lived in how he tended and adored and cared for her, and he wanted to be something that was half as fucking perfect as she was, just so she’d let him stay here for the rest of fucking time. Buried deep inside Her, his thrusts becoming stuttered as he began to lose control—no fucking idiot pussy could blame him, though, because She was squirming under him and moaning his name so I was a miracle he lasted this long—and letting every single fucking thought of Her fall out of his mouth, down her throat.

“So fucking good,” he grunted Her name. “Taking me so fucking perfect. You sound like a fucking song, look so fucking beautiful all fucked out, love you, taking me so fucking well-“

He cut himself off with a groan as her head dropped to his jaw, kissing along his beard with sinful fucking whimpers. 

“Christ, you’re a goddamn miracle, fucking made for me.” Ben pushed one hand between their bodies, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of her as he pinched and rubbed over her clit. 

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, Her heart hitting that frantic pace that meant she was close, and when Her hands trying to push Ben further into her he moved faster, crashing his mouth back into her and growling Her name. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Ben’s words became fast and rough, their brows pressed together so he could see every inch of Her beautiful face, his own orgasm pushing at his restraint. “You so fucking good, darling, good to everyone, so fucking good to me. I fucking love you-“

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper of pure fucking need that almost sent Ben over the edge. “Please-“

He kissed Her again, soft and sweet as his movements become almost feral, splitting her fucking open on his cock. Cum for me, Sunshine, say my name-

She screamed—Ben’s name lost somewhere in many high, wrecked sounds of God and fuck—and Ben let go. Driven on by Her fucking squirting over him, her pussy contracting like she was trying to really fucking kill him, Ben made one last, long thrust as he emptied himself into Her body. He waited for Her breathy, blissful sigh that meant she was happy and high on pleasure before pressing one last, soft kiss to between Her eyes, tucking hair behind her ears, and lowering himself down. Covering her body in his like he could serve as a shield from fucking everything. From the daylight and blue sky, slowing creeping over them and threatening that morning was here, and they couldn’t fucking stay here forever. From the battle they were staged to fight, where Ben would have to just be fucking silent at Her side. From every single factor that neither of them could control, from everything that might hurt Her or make her cry. Every single weak thing that dared to pretend they were worthy sharing the same air that She fucking breathed. 

And She let them stay like that. With Ben’s body likely fucking dead-weight over her, his arms wrapped around her waist as he buried his head between her breasts, her hands even moving to hold his face, tilting it up for Ben to meet her gaze. 

He scanned over her face, perfect and fucking beautiful and all fucking Ben’s. “Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” 

She couldn’t be allowed to fucking call him that. If Ben ever wanted to be a goddamn productive member of society, She couldn’t keep calling him my love. And, Christ on a fucking cross, Benjamin, my love, was worse. That made him short circuit and practically fucking gape at Her. It repeated over and over in his head, and he probably looked like an idiot fucking pussy, just gaping at Her, but fuck She was so pretty, and happy, and Ben’s and Her Her Her, everything in him kept calling Ben home to Her. 

Ben managed to regain just enough control over his stupid fucking lovestruck body to roll them over, tugging Her down until that bright, drug-like smile was right above him, Her arms holding her a few inches away from him. 

“You’re a fucking thief,” Ben drawled Her name, and was unable to contain a dumb fucking smile from overtaking his face. It was born from Her—hair messy, fucking naked, beautiful mouth still slightly swollen and pretty eyes still so dazed from sex—being so goddamn near him. Her smell that was half wrapped in salt from sweat and Ben’s cum, Her perfect face all fucking happy above him, Her smile and love fucking intoxicating. A high Ben never had to come down from, because even as She gave him a fake pout he just got higher. 

“I am not a thief, that’s mean-“ 

“You’re fucking mean.” He grabbed Her hips, pulling them down to press against his and letting Her sit over him. “And you’re a goddamn thief. I call you my love, you stole my goddamn idea-“

She scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. “You are not the first dummy to call their person my love, Pretty Boy-“ 

“I said it first with us-“ 

“Well you don’t get a patent over it-“ 

“The fuck I don’t.” 

They were glowering at each other, and Ben knew he’d lost when a soft smile crossed her face, a sharp look glinting in her eyes. “Well then I am a thief,” She crawled back down his body, bumping their noses and kissing along Ben’s jaw. “Because it’s mine now. I call you my love, and that’s that.”

He scowled, but it was getting harder to even keep up the charade of this fake fight when She was squirming above him and his hands were bruising at Her hips. “You don’t get to just fucking take it-“ 

“Yes, I do.” 

Ben hauled Her further up his body, fully moving her to collapse over him, a high yelp leaving her as Ben kissed every single fucking inch of skin he could angle his head to find. “Fucking brat.” He grunted, rutting slightly up into Her thighs and growing harder as he felt her wetness, dripping down her thighs. “Already so goddamn needy for me again, want me to fuck you good, darling? Again?” 

She was fucking perfect. It wasn’t Ben’s own damn bias or love or something fucking pathetic—but entirely goddamn warranted, She was his life and Ben was allowed to be a little bit of a fucking pussy about her—She was just so fucking clearly perfect. She might be the only person alive who was more dirty-minded and horny than Ben, and he pitied any fucker who’d tried to keep up with Her before him. Her head ended up thrown back as she rode him, a beautiful fucking squeak leaving her when Ben took back control, grabbing Her hips and drilling up into Her until her pretty eyes rolled back and she was shaking around him. 

When he found his release with Her own—letting Her grind over his cock and scrape at his abdomen as she made sounds that were fucking music—Ben had to take a long, heavy breath to stop himself from just rolling Her over and going for round three when he saw his cum leaking and coating her thighs. 

She giggled slightly, brushing some of Ben’s hair from his eyes. 

“What-“ 

“We really do fuck like rabbits,” She said, shifting around until their legs were tangled, pulling Ben’s arms over her body. “Hughie asked if it was the supe stamina, but I think it might just be us.” 

“You talked to Hughie about our sex life-“ 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Technically I was talking to Annie, but Hughie was forced to listen. And halfway through the story about the dishes incident, he asked if copious amounts of sex was normal for two supes.” 

It wasn’t. Ben had fucked half the female supe population before Russia, and it might as well have been juvenile dry humping compared to what he did with her. But he was still caught on the talking to Annie shit. “What the fuck else do you tell her about us-“

“Normal friend stuff,” she shrugged, leaving soft kisses along his beard as She spoke. “How much I love you, how you made me pancakes for breakfast again, how good you are with Ryan and how adorably grumpy you get when we talk about books, how I’m going to bribe you to read something with Ryan and I, and Hughie and Annie are welcome read with us-“

“You’re going to fucking bribe me-“

She continued, kissing the bridge of Ben’s nose and holding his gaze. “Usually Hughie clocks out when I start talking about how much I love your dick, though-“

Ben raised his brows at Her. “You talk about my dick with fucking Hughie? What, are you telling Butcher about my balls-“

“I would if he would listen.” She smiled, dropping back down, kissing everywhere but Ben’s fucking lips. “Benjamin, my love, if you were fucking you, you’d never shut up about it either-“ 

His eyes narrowed. “You did it again.” 

She hummed, her smile so perfectly and beautifully mocking innocence. “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about.”

Ben snaked one hand up her back, tangling his finger in her hair and moving her back his mouth. Kissing her until she was writhing and moaning above him, a tiny whine leaving her lips when he pulled away. 

“Ben-“ 

“You’re the love of my fucking life, Sunshine, and you should know that-“ 

“I do know that,” She whispered, and Ben could fucking feel it. Spreading between them, how he was just as critical to Her as She was to him. Her piece of him so fucking strong inside of him, twined into something so deep inside of Ben’s body he’d never fucking known about it before. “I know that all the time, Ben. And I need you to know that I love you.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You do so much for me, and I want to give you something back-“ 

“You give me more than fucking enough-“ 

She shook her head. “I want to do more. It’s just a name, Pretty Boy. You have a million of them for me, and I’m sure you’ll come up with more.” 

Ben groaned, because he’d fucking lost this one as well. She was too fucking pretty, half-pouting up at him and loving him and so fucking happy around him, alive inside him, and Ben needed to get his fucking shit together, but he didn’t want to. This was so fucking good, and She was so goddamn perfect, and when he made a grumbling relent, her smile was so fucking bright and sweet and all for him. 

“Thank you, Benjamin, my love.” 

She kissed him one last time, and Ben needed to get better at faking a genuine scowl, because right now he goddamn knew he looked just like the fucking puppy dog She kept accusing him of being. Watching Her and trying to act like he was annoyed by this, when everything in him was just Her. Making his whole fucking life better and loving him and wanting him and being so fucking annoying and he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. 

“We could both fucking use it-“ 

“No.” She mumbled, burying her face in his neck. “Mine.” 

And Ben couldn’t fucking argue with that. He was Hers. He was holding Her against him as they both made a completely fucking pointless attempt to properly rest in the last hour before they had to get up, watching the light start to dance over her perfect face, and he wanted to be here for the rest of his goddamn life. 

He really fucking wanted to be with Her, forever. He’d always fucking burn with her, but he wanted to just stay here. No burning, just warm and love and good. In whatever goddamn form it took, Ben just really fucking wanted Her. 

She was half-asleep, and there was a chance she wouldn’t even hear him. But Ben muttered Her name anyway, and waited for her small sound of acknowledgement, her hand squeezing his bicep in a silent signal that she was listening. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too-“ 

“I really fucking love you,” Ben grunted. “And we should get married. Now.” 

Her heart hitched slightly, but all she did was smile against Ben’s skin. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, my love.” 

Ben snorted slightly, and knew that he would. He’d have to make it romantic. Something that she deserved, that made every single other fucking gesture in history seem fucking stupid. There would be music and flowers—she fucking loved music and flowers—and chocolate, and maybe a horse. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why he’d need a horse, but those things always seemed involved in romance somehow, so he’d have to figure out where the fuck to get a horse, and how to work it in with everything else. 

But then he looked down at Her—sleeping peacefully above Ben, breath warming his neck and lips brushing over his skin—and knew she wouldn’t give a fuck about a horse. He didn’t need to make it complicated, just do it right. 

Fuck, if he tried right now—more than just a grumbled idea that made Her love spark in his head and bones—Ben could probably get it right. He could roll her over, kiss her neck, cheeks, brow, and lips, and tell Her to fucking marry me. I love you, and I love every single part of you, and I want every single part of you, and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life proving that to you, starting now. If you let me, I’ll pick you up and we can go find a judge and do it right goddamn now. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll find one, I’ll find you whatever the fuck you want, and that will be it. You and me, for the rest of fucking time, together. 

He didn’t, though. She was, somehow, fast asleep, and Ben had no desire to wake Her. Not when her face was so relaxed, and Ben could just lay here and care for her in silence. Hold Her until he saw the clock flash 5:30, and they had to move. 

They were silent getting ready. Ben wore his supe suit, She kept his shirt on—her eyes bleary and gaze slightly unfocused as she shuffled around the room—and Ben didn’t fight her when she grabbed their suitcase. Her grip on it was white-knuckled and smoking, and even though she was probably about to do fucking everything at the meeting for everyone else, she needed to be useful. Ben knew that drawn focus, and mechanical breathing, and rapid tapping of Moon River. It was her I’m doing this, my way, and that means doing it fucking right, face. It was the one that Ben knew he could help with an arm looped through hers and a kiss on the side of Her head, promising that he was fucking there, and not going anywhere.

The rest of the team seemed to know that face by now as well. Enough so for Butcher not to make any mocking comments about how that shirt was very obviously Ben’s, Annie and Hughie not to try and engage her in boring, pointless fucking conversation, and MM to only give her a tight nod as they tossed the suitcase in the back and climbed into the limo. 

The ride was completely silent. Her head was leaned back on Ben's shoulder, her eyes closed but heartbeat fast, and her finger still tapping, faster and faster, on Ben’s arm. 

He muttered Her name between their heads, and her eyes slowly opened, her face turning to look at him.

Ben. 

You’re going to be fucking fine. 

I know- 

I’m serious, he pushed Her a little further up his body, making their eyes level. You’re going to be fucking fine. We’re going to figure this out, no matter what happens, or what the pussies decide. We’ll take care of this, together. 

She swallowed, but gave Ben a soft, reassuring smile that didn’t hit her eyes. Together. I love you. 

I love you too. Ben paused, scanning over her face. If those cumfucks ask- 

We’re dating. Her smile grew a little wider, and her fingers stilled on Ben’s skin. Or fuck-buddy-brain-connected. My vote is- 

Ben kissed Her, squeezing her body once, and Her giggle into his mouth might be the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. 

You’re not allowed to vote on what we call things. 

She fake-pouted against him. This is a democracy, Benjamin- 

No, it’s not. He grinned, nipping on her lower lip. It’s a constitutional monarchy, where you’re the fucking Queen. And the Queen isn’t supposed to vote. 

She pulled back, giving Ben a wide, amused smile he could feel something soften in his stomach. Look who paid attention in civics class. 

I paid attention to you and Ryan, not some boring fucking history teacher. I’ve told you, your boobs have magical fucking powers, Sunshine. They move when you talk and I always fucking listen.

Gross. 

You love it. 

I do. She traced a hand over Ben’s jaw, the sharp smile playing over her features lighting up the whole goddamn world. Because we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Don’t call us that. 

Can I call us that on the Ben’o’phone? 

You can do whatever the fuck you want in here, Ben held Her hand on his face, kissing her palm. But if you tell Singer that we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, I’m not fucking you for a week.

Her eyes narrowed. That’s a bad bluff, Pretty Boy. 

It was. Ben wouldn’t make it two fucking days before he caved, even if all She did smile and talk to him. But he kept his face set and neutral, shrugging slightly. So fucking call me on it, Sunshine. 

Her tongue peaked between her lips as she chewed, nose twitching, and she sighed. Fuck you. 

Don’t call us that shit, Ben winked. And I will. Hard, this time, until you’re rolling around and can’t feel your fucking legs. Until we finally get you to really, properly squirt, and I can fucking taste it. Ben kissed Her nose, light and teasing. I’ll fuck until we break the goddamn bed, and you’re burning down the whole goddamn building with how good I make you cum. Think you’d like that, darling? He smirked at Her slack expression, pressing his thumb between her lips and feeling his cock twitch when they parted. Think you’d want me to make you cum so fucking hard you scream my name and light up like a fucking star? Think you could be a good girl and let go when I fuck you? 

Her eyes had gone clear of glazed, grinding thought, and clouded with a lust that called Ben like a fucking siren. He was a strong man, but not strong enough for this. Things like will and resolve didn’t matter when She looked at him like that. When Her hands were curled on Ben’s arm, and her breathing was ragged in a way that made things feel right, and there was a little bit of fucking drool lining her lips. The limo was starting to be washed in a golden haze that meant she was turned on and probably fucking soaking her underwear, so nobody would be strong in this situation. Every other single asshole would want to make good on those promises, because they were to Her and she was perfect. 

Ben was either about to try and secretly fuck her in front of everyone, or try the proposal again, so or everyone’s sake, it was good they arrived within the next few seconds. If they did try to fuck the secret thing wouldn’t last a damn minute, and if Ben proposed—the right way—they’d definitely be fucking, loud and hard and wet, after. And even if Hughie and Annie had heard about how good Ben fucked Her, they still weren’t allowed to see it. 

Butcher twisted around from the front, his eyes landing on Her as he said Her name. “You’re gonna need to wear a fuckin disguise, we ain’t able to risk anyone figurin out who you are.” 

She rolled Her eyes, dramatically pulling her sunglasses out of her jacket and placing them on her face. “Good?” 

Butcher frowned, turning to Hughie. “Oi, lad. Give her your fucking cap.” 

“My-“ 

“I’ve got it.” Annie tossed Her a black baseball cap from across the limo, giving Butcher a flat, annoyed look. “Hughie doesn’t have a hat, asshole, it’s mine-“ 

“Don’t matter whose hat it is, long as she,” Butcher jerked his head to Her. “Is the one wearin it. Indoors too, Love, I ain’t lookin for Homelander to drop through the ceiling-“ 

“Keep your tits on, Butcher.” She plopped the cap on her head with another sweeping, sarcastic gesture. “Everyone ready?” 

MM nodded. “Grace is already there, so hopefully we won’t have a wait time. Everyone try to be diplomatic for once in your lives, don’t say something you don’t think over five fucking times in your head, and no weapons.” 

Everyone looked at Ben and Butcher. 

“That cunt is a bloody weapon, I’m takin my gun-“ 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want-“ 

“Both of you,” She glared between Ben and Butcher, voice not as loud as theirs, but with a threat of violence that made even Butcher snap his jaw closed. “Shut the fuck up. No weapons in the White House. Near the president. Ben, you are a weapon, we’ll be fine. Butcher, if you remind the fucking secret service that Ben and I are weapons, they’ll make us wait outside, and you’ll be fucked. You need me for this, I’ve put the whole thing together. Got it?”

Ben made a grumbled agreement, and Butcher scowled, pulling out at least fifty fucking guns and placing them in the passenger’s seat, glaring at Her the whole time. She gave them both a pretty, smug smile, and pulled Ben with her, out of the limo. 

As they walked through the halls of the White House, flanked by many, incredibly fucking useless secret service agents—Her hand over Ben’s, on her shoulder, warmer than usual but not smoking—Ben nudged her shoulder.

You look fucking hot when you order everyone around, Sunshine. 

She huffed a small laugh. You always think I look hot. 

Because you’re always fucking hot- 

I think. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. That I could eat vomit and roll in shit, and you’d still think I’m hot. 

You would be. 

I would objectively not be- 

Yes, you fucking would be. Ben kissed Her brow. You’re objectively hot all the goddamn time.

And you’re an incredibly biased party, Benjamin, my love. 

Ben almost picked her up and to fuck her on one of these stupid fancy benches in the halls. The only thing that stopped him was a secret service agent, coming to a halt in the hall with no warning. 

“Christ, you pussy-“ 

Her free hand shot up, covering Ben’s mouth. “Is this it?” 

The agent nodded, and started listing off a bunch of fucking rules that Ben didn’t care about. Not when Her eyes had gone glass-like once more, and her heart was stumbling in her chest. 

You’ve fucking got this, Sunshine. We’re going to be fine. 

I know. She let out a long, slow breath, and leaned into Ben slightly. Ready? 

Fucking born it. 

Singer was at the center of the table—in the same spot as last time—with Mallory on one side and a man Ben had never seen before on the other. 

Ben hated him. She was perfect and beautiful, and Todd Muller was a slimy-looking weasel-fuck, wearing a red tie Ben wanted to strangle him with and looking at them with gleaming eyes Ben wanted to stab. The man hadn’t even spoken, and Ben’s fists were already goddamn curling at his side. There was something in him that told Ben wrong. Bad, vile, fucking wrong, and it came from Her. When the man smiled, a crude cold smirk that made Ben feel like he’d been shoved into a fucking swamp, the warning became an alarm, and Her grip on Ben’s hand over her shoulders started to smoke.

Muller—it was fucking Muller, Mallory had made some introductions that Ben barely heard over the blood lining his every thought—wouldn’t stop looking at Her, and Ben had to fight every fucking urge in his body to just step in front of her. 

And when Muller said Her name—said it fucking wrong, with no love and only callous venom—Ben thought his jaw might crack. 

“You’re looking healthy for a dead girl.” 

“Todd.” Her voice was bored and cold, Her heart pounding like a fucking war drum. “You’re looking like a bitch ass cock guzzler.” 

Even with the tension in the air—wired and electric and set to detonate—Ben still had to cough to cover his laugh, and Muller’s eyes shot to his. 

“Soldier Boy,” a hand was extended over the table. Ben forced himself not to break it. “Big fan-“ 

“Don’t be.” Her voice was dry. “He’s a Phillies fan.” 

Brat. 

Cunt. A small smile tugged at Her lips, even as Muller’s attention returned to her. 

“You’ve been busy,” Muller said Her name again, and Ben was going to pull out his tongue. “Learning about baseball, getting your fifteen minutes of fame, never bothering to tell your mother and me that you were alive-“ 

“I’d been dead to you and Mom for years,” She shrugged. “What’s legal death to being locked out and left to fend for myself?” 

“And I see you’re still a little-“ 

“Secretary Muller.” Mallory’s voice was even and cool, and she didn’t even fucking look at Her or Ben. “We agreed to keep personal lives out of this meeting.” 

Muller’s face twitched, but he fell back into his seat, eyes still trained on Her and Ben. 

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” Singer nodded to the chairs before them. “Sit, so we can talk like damn adults.” 

MM cleared his throat as they all sat, nodding to a silent, bored-looking Singer. “Thank you for seeing us again, sir.”

“Don’t.” Singer sighed, rubbing at his beard. “If I don’t follow up with you dumbasses, the brit,” he jerked his head to Butcher, who winked. “Will probably start sendin death threats and bombs to my family. But I ain’t here to small talk or do fucking therapy sessions, so I’m just gonna say it.” Singer sighed, looking around the room. “You’re not gettin any V. You’ve been determined to be a liability and are being ordered to explore other avenues to eliminate Homelander.”

The shocked, angry silence only lasted a moment before the room erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about Singer being a bloody fuckin cunt idiot, MM and Annie trying to provide reason, and Hughie trying to make everyone stop yelling. 

But She was silent, watching Muller. No smoke, no screams, only a pure, horrid sense of wrong and sick in Ben’s body. 

Ben. She didn’t look at him, but squeezed his arm. Don’t freak out. 

What- 

She coughed, a tiny amount of fire escaping her mouth, the whole room erupted in clicks of guns. All fucking aimed at Her. The only thing that kept Ben only rigid and alert at Her side, instead of launching himself over her body and bashing in the brains of any pussy that dared to fire, was Her quick, sharp glance in his direction, and smooth words in his head. 

I’ve got this. 

She had this. Ben was right here, killing anyone who fired was still very much an option, and she had this. She was leaning over the table, eyes flicking between Singer, Muller, and Mallory, and she had this. 

“What exactly about us is a liability?” She asked, tilting her head in mock thought. “That would justify you refusing to provide us with the only definitive weapon against Homelander?” 

“Your team has proven reckless,” Singer held Her gaze, which was a little fucking admirable. Ben had seen fucking Butcher stop talking under that glare, and Singer didn’t even seem to have the cocky death-wish Butcher had. “Countless times. Truth-con, both of Firecracker’s rallies, Tek Knight’s club massacre, the Believe Expo, and that’s just off the top of my damn head. We’re past takin gambles that don’t pay off, and this is a massive gamble that we ain’t able to afford.“

“How so?” She blinked at Singer, her face innocent and her fingers tapping on the table. “This is not a gamble. V will incapacitate Homelander.” 

“On your word.” Muller sneered. “All we have is your word, and there’s nothing to stop you from simply taking the V for your own use.” 

She scoffed, giving Muller a bored, amused look. “That can’t possibly be your real excuse. Half of us are already supes, and the other half hate supes-” 

“I don’t hate supes-“ 

Hughie’s mumble was cut off by Mallory’s curt, snapped words. “You have all been known to make questionable moves.” 

This time, Butcher laughed. “Come off it, Grace. Questionable moves is real high and fuckin mighty from you-“ 

“I have always remained within the bounds of the law-“ 

“The law,” She drawled. “Is not the end all be all of morality. We need to kill Homelander. This will help us. There isn’t another way. So please give me one really good reason why you can’t spare one vial of V so we can eliminate the most dangerous man alive.” 

There was a beat of tight, furious silence, and then Singer stood. 

“Grace, Todd,” he flattened his suit, letting out a labored breath. “I got a fuckin country to run, deal with this. You dumbasses,” he nodded across the table to the Boys. “Are real lucky we’re still housing and entertaining you. And you,” Singer said Her name, and the whole world was lined in red. “Consider playing that role you designed for yourself, if you’re so fuckin committed to the safety of our country.” 

Ben felt his fists curl, and Butcher looked like he would’ve stood up and tackled Singer down had it not been for the countless fucking guns still trained on their heads. 

Muller cleared his throat as the door, and their last fucking hope, closed. “We have determined that the pitch comes from a non-lucid party-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Todd.” She wrinkled Her nose, lip curling. “Just say it’s because of me, so we can all move on.” 

“You are not important enough for this call to be made in your name-“ 

“Try again.” 

“Homelander is a chronic threat of unfathomable proportion. You are not qualified to handle such a delicate situation-“

“Wrong.” She shrugged, and Ben felt like he was watching a sparring match. Muller’s face was growing more and more red, and Her breathing more mechanical, both close to snapping, but she still pushed on. “I am qualified. I have field experience, and I’m literally a doctor. And you used chronic wrong. That’s not what it means-“ 

“I do not care what it means,” Muller hissed. “You are not stable or reliable, and we will not put the most dangerous drug in history into the hands of an over-emotional girl.” 

The table cracked under Ben’s hands, and something fucking dangerous crossed over Her face. 

“Oh, fuck.” MM muttered, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face as the air of the room started to wave in the heat. 

“So,” Her words were slow, wrathful. “You are risking America, risking the fucking world, because you think I’m the same unstable teenager I was thirteen fucking years ago.” 

Muller didn’t waver. “I believe you are the same girl you were because you are spoiled and believe you are owed something from the world. We are not a weapons bank-” 

“I am not owed V, it’s the only weapon to hold down Homelander that we have!” Her voice was growing louder, the room crackling with heat. “I want to kill my fucking abuser, that’s not spoiled-“ 

“And she’s helped us!“ Annie jumped in, glaring at Muller. “She’s not spoiled, she’s made a lot of the hard calls-“ 

“Starlight,” Mallory muttered, shooting Annie a look. “Drop it.” 

“No, Mallory! This is insane, you can’t think this is the best choice-“ 

“This is the president’s call-“ 

Butcher let out a cold, angry laugh. “You ain’t ever been this much of a bureaucratic bitch before, Grace-“

“Times are changing, Butcher-“ 

“And Grace here,” Muller gave Mallory a cold smirk. “Still wants to be in the running for the sweet VP spot. So now isn’t the time to disagree with Mr. President.” 

MM gaped at Mallory. “Are you being serious, Grace-“

“Oh, she is,” Muller turned his grin to the team. “And she’s still trying to make up ground for letting her two most dangerous and unreliable weapons,” his twisted gaze turned to Her and Ben. “Fall in love. What did you drug him with,” Muller sneered Her name. “To get Soldier Boy to follow you like a weak fucking baby?” 

Ben still had to let Her handle it. Even as he felt so fucking cold, physically restraining himself from launching across the table at Muller, he had to let Her handle it. 

“Ben isn’t weak, or a baby.“ She lifted her chin at Muller, and Ben swore he saw something fucking spark in the air. “And I’m not like you, Todd. I don’t need to offer someone something for them to love me.” A cold, hollow smirk played across Her lips. “Tell Mom I say hi, by the way.” 

Muller’s eyes narrowed. “You whoring little bitch-“ 

That was fucking it. Fuck letting Her handle it, that was the fucking line. 

Ben shot to his feet, letting the table crack further under his fist, and Muller’s words faded off. 

“Don’t ever fucking speak to her like that again in your pathetic, pussy life,” Ben growled. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Soldier Boy-“ 

Ben ignored MM’s low warning. “And you should count yourself real fucking lucky, because otherwise I’d break your fucking skull right goddamn now.” 

Muller cleared his throat, and a flash of fear crossed his face. “Careful, Soldier Boy.” Muller said, voice less smug and assured as he straightened his already too-straight tie. “Or we’ll find some Agent Orange and put you back in the box, and she won’t have anyone to do her dirty work.”

Ben could hear the fucking drums. He hadn’t heard the drums like this in months, but they were pounding in his head. Not from Muller—he could throw his against the wall and crack his spine without a thought—but from the thought of leaving Her alone. Failing Her again, leaving Her and Ryan to fight Homelander alone. And the drums beat with the knowledge that She’d burn herself out to wake Ben up, and he could never fucking let that happen- 

“You won’t get near him,” She hissed. “Or I’ll burn your dick off, and your fancy house down. And you,” Her wrath turned to Mallory, her words measured and toxic. “Are fucking pathetic. You know this is the wrong call, and you’re just letting it happen. Actually do something to kill Homelander, or deal with the consequences of him being alive.” 

She stood, looping Her arm through Ben’s. We need to leave, now. 

We’re not going fucking anywhere without the V- 

Ben. Her voice was firm in his head, and Ben realized her heart had slowed. Trust me. 

“Oi, where are you-“ 

“We’re done here,” She announced over Butcher, giving the team sharp, pointed looks. “Thank you,” She gave Mallory and Muller a too sweet, toxic smile. “For absolutely fucking nothing.” 

The rest of their team exchanged confused looks, their mouths opening and closing in protest, but She was on a strange sort of warpath. Pulling Ben behind Her into the hall, barely looking back to see their team scramble up as she turned to face Ben. 

Take my phone.

What the fuck are you- 

We’re not getting the V, Muller is the leak. 

How do you- 

He said Agent Orange. You told me Frenchie used that for his gas, that Sage based Hers on. Nobody except the Boys, Homelander, and Sage know that. It’s him. But we’ll be fine, you just need to play the music-

How the goddamn Christ is music going to help-

Neuman said they had a backup of V, that isn’t under the pentagon's control. I’m going to find it, and I need you to play a song, any song, really fucking loud. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Please. 

Ben nodded, putting Her rapid word in order in his own head. They didn’t have the V. There was more V, that wasn’t under the pentagon’s—Muller’s—control. She needed him to play music. Ben could defiantly fucking play music. 

He took Her phone, and she glanced behind him as their team stumbled into the hall. 

“Love, we ain’t fuckin done here-“ 

“Listen to me, Butcher.” Her voice was controlled and firm, and Ben glanced up from her phone to see that sharp, almost hazardous focus in her eyes. “We need to go now. I need to have my back here, please.”

Butcher blinked, and—by some fucking miracle—nodded. “Let’s bloody get a move on, then.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Nah, Mate.” Butcher cut off MM with a shrug, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We ain’t gettin shit out of those cunts. Let’s cut our losses and move.” 

“That’s,” Annie frowned, watching Butcher carefully. “Uncharacteristically forgiving of you-“

“What can I say, I’m a changed fuckin man. Let’s go.” 

MM, Annie, and Hughie exchanged looks, but before they could protest further, Ben felt Her bump his shoulder, her eyes fixed behind him. 

Now. 

He didn’t think about what he was playing, because it didn’t fucking matter. It was fucking loud, and it caused the team to jump slightly and give him odd looks, but She nodded. And that’s what fucking mattered. 

And then She fucking vanished, like she had at Red River. Something rushed through Ben’s body—indescribable and elusive and not wrong but strange—the world practically stuttered, and She was gone. 

Annie’s mouth fell open. “Where-“ 

“Oh, shit.” Hughie looked over at Ben, his voice muffled by the blasting vocals and drums and guitar. “She’s-“ 

Ben didn’t want to talk over the music. He didn’t understand how this weird fucking power of Hers worked—She’d explained it a few times, and he’d still gotten lost in Her pretty eyes and big words—and now wasn’t the time to pull experiments with it. So, he just gave Hughie a sharp nod, and waited. 

Butcher didn’t seem phased by this in the goddamn slightest, looking around the hall and rolling his eyes before starting for the exit. 

A secret service agent blocked his path, and an argument started about turning off the music and where is the sixth member of your party—MM grunted something about the bathroom, and they seemed to buy it—but Ben didn’t fucking hear any of it. She was taking too long, there wasn’t any telling where the fuck She’d gone, and Ben could feel Her tugging him with the Pigeon instinct—he was worried out his damn mind, and She’d never get to know he’d called it that—from deep in the building. 

Then She started drawing closer, back to Ben, and the instinct started to grow electric and feral. She was closer, and something felt sick, and he should just fuck this and go fucking find her- 

She was walking down the hallway, and, without a word, looped Her arms through Ben’s. 

Go. 

Ben didn’t stop playing the music—despite the many people in suits glaring at him—as She half-marched down the hall. Her face was too neutral, almost statue-like, and she still wasn’t speaking. Ben could swear he could hear Her fucking singing, like a ghost or phantom on the wind, but Her mouth was closed. 

They made it out. The rest of their team still looked tense and confused, and She was still being so fucking weird, but they’d made it the fuck out. Ben knew She was with them—he could feel Her humming and taut somewhere in his head—but she still didn’t speak. 

Butcher started driving, and when they crossed the lines out of DC, Ben finally felt a tug of his arm. 

Off. 

When the song stopped and Ben looked back to Her, tucked against his side, her eyes were far away, and he could hear Her fucking brain moving. 

“You gonna bloody explain whatever the fuckin hell you just pulled-“ 

“Drive, Butcher.” She snapped, eyes still glazed over. “Fast.” 

The ride was silent for another ten minutes. The didn’t have the V. They were out of fucking options, and they still had to figure out the Cornucopia, and they were fucked- 

Ben. 

He glanced down at Her, and found her staring at him. What- 

I got it. 

You- 

I followed Mallory and Muller to the oval office, which is like, really small by the way- 

Ben grunted Her name, trying to keep her perfect, too fast mind on one track. What the fuck did you get. 

The location. Of the executive V. It’s in a warehouse in Boston. 

Ben nodded slowly. So let’s go fucking get it. 

We need to deal with Edgar first. She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. No loose ends. We can’t get this wrong. 

She squeezed Ben’s hand—resting on her waist—and cleared her throat. 

Ben frowned. You’re telling them- 

Everything. “Butcher, pull over.” 

“We’re on the fuckin freeway-“ 

“So find a rest stop or take the next exit.” 

Ben could hear Butcher’s sigh, but the ass wasn’t stupid enough to keep arguing—not when Her tone was so flat and forceful, her face painted in a tight, resolved look—so they were parked within two minutes. 

“Can I, uh,” Hughie coughed. “I need to go to the bathroom-“ 

“Hold it, lad.” Butcher twisted in his seat, shooting Her a glare. “The fuck was all that-“

“I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to listen. No talking until I’m done.” She looked around the team, leaning forward. “Got it?” 

They got some nods and mumbled agreements—everyone glancing at Ben’s set, purposefully unreadable face like he had shit to say—and She let out a long, heavy breath. Ben’s hand moved to Her thigh, steadying her heart a little further, and she began. 

“We have a leak. I caught it when we met with Edgar, who’s probably doing some cloak and dagger double-agent bullshit, because he knew stuff only Sage and Homelander would know. And I wasn’t sure, but then Ashley jumped ship and confirmed it-“ 

Annie blinked. “Ashley-“ 

“Jumped ship.” She snapped, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “At Red River. Don’t get mad at Hughie, I told him to keep it quiet while we were in DC. Ashley’s staying with Neuman, and they’ve both confirm that there’s a leak in either the government or CIA. It’s the government, because it’s Muller. I don’t,” She sighed, chewing on her lips. “I don’t know what the fuck Muller is doing, or what Sage promised him to flip, but it’s him. It’s probably the real reason why we didn’t get the V, but it’s fine. I,” She reached into her jacket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “Fixed it. Neuman told me there was an off-site stash of V for the government. Off the books, probably part of a deal for the government to help fund Red River. And I’ve got its location.” She leaned forward, passing the paper over to Annie. “Boston docks warehouse. We’ll need to take care of Edgar first, but that’s it. That’s our shot.” 

The limo was silent as MM and Hughie leaned over Annie’s shoulders, all three of them reading the paper—likely just some fucking evidence—and Butcher scowled at the air. 

“So,” Butcher drawled. “All we gotta do is go to Boston, nab some fuckin V from the federal government, and we’re bloody golden and set?” 

“Unless we fuck up,” She shrugged. “Yeah. And we can clean up Muller and Ashley after, but I think we need to clear Edgar first. He’s actually dangerous, and I’m not sure if he’s playing us or Sage. Muller’s just an idiot, and Ashley’s out of the picture for now.” 

“All she told you was there was a leak?” MM looked up from the paper with a frown. “Nothing else?” 

“She recorded Sage. And if she’s trying to infiltrate us, I burned out her tracker and she doesn’t have her phone. Neuman will keep an eye on her, and she won’t get anywhere close enough to us to get useful information for Sage.” 

“And how do you know Muller is the leak-“ 

“Butcher,” She cut off MM with a sigh. “What did Frenchie use to make the gas, when you met with Homelander and Sage in January?” 

Butcher frowned, something flashing in his eyes. “Agent Orange.” 

She nodded, and turned to Hughie and Annie. “And what did Sage base her gas on?” 

“Oh, God.” Annie shook her head, realization flashing in her eyes. “That’s not good-“ 

“What gas does Sage have?” MM grunted, looking around the limo. “None of you motherfuckers mentioned gas-“ 

“It’s against me,” Ben grunted, and felt Her hand cover his, still on her leg. “Homelander tried to use it during the tower fight. Pussy said Sage designed it after Frenchie’s.” 

“And only we know that,” Hughie mumbled. “Us and Vought. Shit-“ 

“That’s how I know it’s Muller,” She muttered. “And that’s how I know this is it. The V is there,” She nodded to the paper, slightly crumpled in Annie’s hands. “And we’re going to get it.” 

There was another moment of silence, broken by Butcher once more.

“That it, Love?”

 She nodded. “That’s it. We’re fucking finishing this.”

End Note: For such a stoic and emotionally stunted character, all of the Ben centric chapters sure do contain a lot of emotion.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[lovemyromance]

(Not a troll ask please don't shoot :D - genuine question)

But I feel like it's really downplayed how much Gwynriels gaslight the fandom. I joined ACOTAR bc I saw Gwynriel fanart and thought they were cute. I Got all the way to ACOSF still hoping for Gwynriel and got a whole lot of NOTHING. And honestly I think Elain is as interesting as cardboard (sorry), but you'd have to be downright blind to ignore she had something going on with Azriel.

Then I saw on titktok about the bonus chapter, everyone going in saying omg thats where gwyn & az are mates! So I cracked it open, read it - and bruh - HE'S OUT HERE TRYING TO GO DOWN ON ELAIN??

How can you put THAT interaction & the conversation he had with Gwyn side by side and people are walking away from it saying Gwyn & Azriel are mates?

I'm so genuinely confused why someone would start that nonsense. The way I ate up Gwynriel art/fan theories it was like she was a major character there from the start and they'd already had 8 kids and a HEA.

Then I open the books and they barely even have a conversation??

It was honestly really annoying. felt like a scam, like one of those authors peddling their book on social media and then you realize its a wattpadd fic written by a 12 yr old not an actual book

If it helps - we're all confused. Nothing has been proven yet about any remaining couple so idk why the Elucien and Gwynriels are out here straight up inventing fiction and trying to pass it off as fact to anyone willing (and even unwilling) to listen.

This ship war could've just been - "Hey I like Elucien more!" Or "I love elriel!"

But instead of just accepting these are all opinions and not actually what is in the books - people decided to straight up gaslight and claim that Elucien are a couple and Gwynriel are mates.

If you cannot point to it on the page where such a thing it explicitly happened - then it is not canon.

Lucien & Elain? They're mates. That's canon.

What's also canon - is that not all mates are a good pairing and end up happy together.

Whats also canon - is that the cauldron was wrong.

It shouldn't be hard to reach accurate conclusions if people stopped treating their wants and headcanons as fact.

Like for gods sake - let's just look at fanart. I'm not saying that every piece of fanart is canon or even should be canon - but elriel has much more canon fanart. Thats literally a fact. They have multiple major moments together - on the page.

What is canon Elucien fanart? When she falls out the cauldron - naked and humiliated and he gives her his cloak? When they sit together over a tea service acting uncomfortable? When she avoids him every other time she sees him?

What is canon Gwynriel fanart? When he gives her boss a secondhand necklace to give to her or anyone else? When he - and cassian and everyone else - watch her cut a ribbon she sees as an enemy?

I've seen so many people open up these books expecting some grand romance between Elain & Lucien and end up disappointed because... she doesn't even want to be in the same room as him.

So many Gwynriels with similar stories to yours expecting some entertaining Gwynriel love story only to also end up disappointed because Gwyn doesn't even exist till the last book and she and Azriel barely interact.

They chose to believe in a nonexistent ship and are trying to compete with canon Elriel evidence. Like ok - tough shit? But you can't just start making shit up.

Until Elain accepts that bond - or even gives Lucien the time of day - they're not a couple. They are nowhere close to endgame if everything she has done and said has shown us she doesn't want him.

Until Azriel himself declares Gwyn is his mate or vice versa - they're not mates.

And yeah I'm gonna get a lot of backlash from the "foreshadowing and crumbs" crowd.

But let me ask you this:

There are some Elriels who think the mating bond between Lucien & Elain is fake. There is plenty of evidence and similar language used about their bond that resembles the fake Rowan & Lyria bond. Plenty of signs showing their bond isn't quite right.

do you think Elriels can then claim it's canon that the Elucien bond is fake?

"We have crumbs and foreshadowing and similar language used" too. But do you see us going around claiming it's canon?

No.

We are very clear about the distinction between canon and headcanons. About what's in the books, and what is just pure guesswork and theory.

"Sparky spark" and "elucien is endgame" are both theories until proven. They are NOT canon.

Wish they'd just learn the difference. They'd be a lot less unhappy fans.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Okay, imma be real? I think this fandom gets way too upset over characterization differences between books (this'll be a long one just let me explain).

I see a lot of posts in the WOF fandom about how certain characters got ruined in the next books or how their characterizations were completely screwed over. A lot of posts also are like, "Oh, Tui messed up X character in this book so badly!" Or "All their personality has changed in this book, what happened to my favorite character?" and so on like that.

This kind of thing, ESPECIALLY after rereading the series recently, then coming back to the fandom, pisses me off to NO END for a couple of reasons.

1. Tui wasn't "ruining" your favorite characters personality in the next book, because the focus of the next book wasn't the character in question. The spotlight is on another character entirely, and trying to micromanage THAT many personalities to their truest form is INCREDIBLY difficult.

2. Plotting out character personalities is a GRUELING process, coming from someone who does a lot of writing. ESPECIALLY if it's original characters, because then you can't just pull from fandom or canon, you gotta do that shit yourself. And over the course of the canon, their personality is gonna change!

This brings me to my last point and probably the biggest reason:

3. EVERY BOOK IS FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.

This has been a STAPLE of the Wings of Fire books from the VERY BEGINNING. With every new book, we as readers are jumping from one dragon's mental space to the next, learning about their traits and quirks and how they perceive the world around them, every single time we pick up the next book in the series. It's what helps give us those deeper insights into the characters that yall get so angry about when they aren't immediately represented in the next book, when that dragon is no longer our spotlight.

Also, when we are learning about the other dragons before we jump to their perspectives, the character that we are reading about is already making assumptions and assigning traits that they think correlate with the character in question! We are seeing the world through their eyes and thoughts, so when we move to another perspective, that dragon is doing the exact same thing, even though now we know more about one of the other characters!

And then the fandom gets hissy when the first character gets relegated into the background and assigned some base personality traits, even though that's exactly what happened before.

Personally, I think the ones who suffer from this the MOST are Clay in Arc 1 and Moon in Arc 2. Clay, according to fans, gets boiled down to nothing but his love for food, even though we see in his, Sunny's, and Peril's perspectives that he's more than that. His behaviors also directly correlate to why he gets that kind of background trait (although that's a whole other rant), and every time I see someone saying that Clay got screwed over by characterization, I take psychic damage.

And Moon. God, yall, Moon gets it THE WORST FROM YOU. I've seen SO MANY POSTS about how she got boiled down to nothing but a love triangle piece in the later arcs, which is only partly true, but we also see from ALL OF THOSE PERSPECTIVES (Qibli and Winter specifically) that the traits they're assigning her are both different aspects of how her character worked in the first book and what two lovestruck, moons-blinded dumbasses are seeing and choosing to view her as.

Her book even SHOWS how much of a NIGHTMARE it would be to have every character be deep and know their inner thoughts at all times. Moon herself gets mentally and physically overwhelmed near CONSTANTLY during the majority of her book, and I'm not even technically factoring in Darkstalkers' influence.

All of that to say, Wings of Fire fandom, is to stop losing your SHIT over how your characters might seem flat or not like they were in their books. All of these perspectives are different, and if you motherfuckers actually took some time to reread the books while actively LOOKING for those hints of your silly guys being the same silly guys, just from another dragon's POV, then maybe yall wouldn't be so pissed off about characterization in the books nearly HALF as often.

I don't even care how much discourse this is gonna spark I just felt the incredible urge to tell yall to use those skills you learned in English class and chill the FUCK OUT on this topic.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now go use your eyes :>

.

[evellynssocbrainrot]

I really appreciate how Leigh made Kaz's eyes dark brown, and made Inej describe them so many times in a way that made them seem like a work of art. Coming from someone who has brown (darkish hazel) eyes, this detail of SOC really helped me feel so much more confident about it.

It's actually so rare that we get a main male character who is white but has dark eyes. Literally every book I've ever read, the mmc has bright colored eyes. Even in the Grishaverse, nearly all the main guys have colored eyes. The D*rkling having gray (I think), Nikolai having hazel (muddy green as Sturmhond), Mal having blue, Jesper having a rather gorgeous silver, Wylan and Matthias also having shades of blue, and Tolya having gold. And then we have Kaz Brekker, who's eyes are as dark as coffee, but he is still sooo hot. At least, according to Inej, Imogen, Jesper (temporarily), several girls at the Menagerie, and several Dreg members as well. You cannot change my mind.

Note: this is no slander to Freddy Carter's show version of Kaz, I love him equally as much, regardless of his blue eyes.

[smittenmeraki]

Surprisingly not SBG related 😅

I just finsihed reading All For The Game and I am so hyperfixated and need to rant about it

Spoilers

1. People do not talk enough about how Neil told Kevin to get his pycho on a leash or he will and the forever after Andrew told him to never pull his leash again, they highlight his perfect memory all of the time and this is just another one of those moment but like Andrew knew that Neil was right when he said that. He does have a leash, and Kevin has pulled it a lot, whether he means to or not. But Neil has it too, but he doesnt use it the same, instead he holds tight and gives Andrew the choice, every time he give him the choice.

Like Andrew knows wholeheartedly Neil is his weak point even if he refuses to admit it but he has to say something about being emotionally manipulated, but I think it was more of a warning than a threat. He knows Neil has an upper hand, his 'dont pull my leash' seems more like 'you can make me do anything with a single word and that scares me' Neil is different to him and I think he is so entranced and terrfied of that realization, hints the 'its not a this' because if it was he could lose it. He has been pulled and pushed and dragged around for so long, he refuses to let the one person who asks him to do the same. Neil doesnt need to manipulate Andrew because Andrew is so willing to do anything he asks.

2. The whole please conversation broke me. I had to take a moment to calm down because it hit so horribly close to home. Andrew has been used and assulted and belittled for simply being there. He so desperately wants affection, who doesnt, but the memories of someone doing things to him against his will is so haunting. Thats why the yes or no is so important to him every single time, nevermind the always, he will ask anyway, because no one ever asked him. His 'no' was vetoed and his 'please' ignored. Neil didn't even need to know this to stop cold in his tracks the moment Andrew said to. Neil knows Andrew doesn't like to be touched and the breif moments when its allowed are barely okay, so he doesn’t push it because he doesn't want to lose those moments. He is willing to stand with time and wilter waiting for when its okay again. Yes sometimes he has reached out or crossed a line but several more times he reminded himself, he doesn't like to be touched. 'His hand froze a hair away' 'he remembered last second' and so many more times he forced himself not to because he has no right. Andrew sees this, sees how he is so willing to actively not hurt him. Neil disgards the times Andrew has crossed a line, has hurt his friends or got so angry he saw red because he undrestand how desperately Andrew is searching for control, of anything, he's never had it before. He could have killed Allison for slapping Aaron. He so tightly holds onto the few things he has. He won't let someone hurt or break or take anything he has left. Which is why I believe he hesitates when Neil says he's not going anywhere, because he has fought tooth and nail for all he has, to keep Aaron who wants to leave, to hold himself together after all he has been through. Neil is willing to stay by his side and asked Andrew to stop fighting for him. The simple 'no' followed by 'thats why' is all Neil needed to understand, Andrew wants Neil because he is willing to put himself aside. Because his 'no' means so much to Neil, and he would never break it.

I came so close to tear with these books 😭