#no regrets whatsoever—i spoke only the truth

[yumaisbored]

(drunk:) Xie Lian is so beautiful I love him

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi there!

I'd like to request something if they are open/when they open again and it can be smut and or angst! Or sfw! Haha

I'd like to imagine the reader antagonizing Alastor.. it's going much like this:

"Dear, I will ask you for the last time. Please, STOP. Before you regret the next words that come out of that mouth."

Reader "oh yeah, or else what?"

And Alastor takes the reader and halls them off somewhere secluded and make them regret every words they ever said.

I hope I did this justice. This is just a reminder to everyone: It is also on my boundaries list, but I do not write smut for Anon. If you request smut, I need to see that your account is over 18. Here is a little fluffy moment, however. TW: Boundaries, tickles, comfort, fluff, goofing off

One bad truth-or-dare game with Angel put you in the spot you were in. You were now seated across from Alastor, doing everything in your power to mess with him. 

Yes, you were his dutiful partner, someone who doted on him and normally respected his boundaries, but it was no lie. The hotel was enamored by how far you could truly go before pissing off Alastor. 

Everything started small, from speaking while he was reading to poking him while he was busy. You made it your goal to see just how far you could push your partner's buttons before things got out of hand. 

You had only done this once before, and it was in the privacy of your own room together. Never had you been so stupid as to mess with Alastor out in public where the whole hotel could see. Yes, it was understood you two were dating, but this was new stupid for you. 

He remained calm and composed throughout most of it. He knew from the shadows that you were doing this for a stupid game with the others in the hotel. However, his patience was growing thinner and thinner the longer you kept going. 

By hour four of your nagging and unwarranted touches, he was clenching his paper tightly, eye twitching. However, he was not going to give you or the hotel the satisfaction of his lashing out in public. No, he was going to wait until you two were in private to actually handle your actions. 

However, he was not expecting what you would do next. Once your actions of poking and talking didn’t rile up Alastor, you moved to the next best thing. You hop in his lap and make yourself comfortable. —something you only ever did in the privacy of your rooms.

Holding back laughter, you clung to him and watched as he tensed. You knew a lot of food and apologies would be given after this. You hated making him uncomfortable, but you were also eager to win the stupid game. 

As you sat on Alastor, however, you noticed he began to relax and return to his reading. You were shocked he willingly let you show off your relationship in front of others. Who was this man? What did he do with your Al?

Sighing, you had one last stop left on the train of pissing off Alastor. Smirking to yourself, you repositioned yourself to face him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, mimicking a hug. As your arms wrapped around his neck, you giggled softly. Alastors ears twitched gently at your actions. 

"Dear, I will ask you for the last time. Please, STOP. Before you regret the next actions that come from your pretty little mind."

You smiled innocently and looked down at him from your position. Hugging him close, you spoke gently.

"oh yeah, or else what?"

As the words left your lips, your hands found purchase in his fluffy ears. His whole body went stiff as he sighed. Setting his paper down, he stood, hoisting you up, and spoke calmly and clearly to everyone in the room. 

“Might I suggest next time you all play a stupid game that you do not involve me in it whatsoever”

He gently took you to his room and sat you on the bed. You pouted, afraid that he was angry at you. However, what was unexpected was the onslaught of his shadows hovering around you. Worried, you looked up at Alastor. “I- I’m sorry Alastor…I didn’t mean to go that far…”

He smirked and shook his head, holding his hand up to the shadows. 

“Didn’t mean to…love you had the idea from the start.” 

Alastor moved in closer, looming over you. You were sure that your relationship was over, that you crossed a boundary, and he was beyond pissed at you. However, you didn’t expect the gentle touches from some of the shadows, leading to sharp giggles from you. 

Looking up at Alastor, you realize he wasn’t breaking up with you. He was punishing you. He let his hand fall as giggles and laughter filled the air. Alastor had sent his shadows out to tickle you as penance for your previous act. You only hoped the cuddles after your punishment would be well worth it.

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Sweet Tyranny

Pt. 2

"I can't stop now that I have started playing his game, Y/n." He stands up from the ground too. "That's why, I'll be his dog and kill him."

You stared at him in shock, complete disbelief. Kill? He's going to commit murder? This was too much to process. "...Minami, murder isn't solution." You reminded him, hoping that he would understand. But his blank face was telling you otherwise. "You shouldn't kill. That's wrong!"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He blankly asked, no emotion visible on his expression whatsoever.

"Tell the police! That man is wanted criminal, Minami!" You almost pleaded him but he shook his head in refusal.

Looking at your reaction, he regretted telling you this but there was no turning back now. "You can't understand the situation I'm in,Y/n. I can't tell police about it. Because if they arrest him then I won't be able to buy medications for my mother!" He raised his voice, his eyes begging you to understand.

"Do you think your mother would like the medications that you got by murder?!"

His eyebrows furrowed. "You don't understand..." Minami gritted his teeth in frustration. "You're not the one with a sick mother and so poor that barely can afford food to eat everyday! You don't understand, Y/n. You can't understand." The boy spoke in slightly higher voice. If you would look at Minami, anyone would think that he's angry. But, in truth, he's desperate. The boy is hoping that his one and only friend will understand his situation, no matter how fucked up it is, that she won't leave him. It's true that Minami respects Dino, that he might even be closest to the father figure the young boy could ever have, but he also understood the wrong of murder. However, did people like him ever had a choice in life?

Rich could do whatever they pleased. They could buy a house only to burn it down for fun without worrying. They never had to eat crumbs of old bread and be happy with it. They probably would be able to cure someone with the same illness as him mother in no time but Minami wasn't rich. He was only a child living in poverty.

"Lack of money is the root of all evil." said George Bernard Shaw and he couldn't have been more right. Money controls people, money controls society, money controls everything. Money controls every single one of us. People who are in desperate need for money, whether for selfish or selfless reasons, will abandon their morals in order to have it.

Money can't buy happiness they said. But lack of it surely causes misery.

But how were you, a child, going to understand that? Anyone would be terrified if their best friend just confessed to have the connections with the most wanted criminal in Brazil. "Minami...I-I'm sorry but that's just messed up. Police will help you, you know." You tried to explain but the boy just refused to understand. Or maybe it's you who refused to accept his point of view.

Minami stared at you silently for a moment before glueing his eyes on the ground instead. "Forget what I said. I-I just joked, sorry." He quietly mumbled but loud enough for you to hear him.

You knew. You knew he wasn't joking but the way he immediately changed the topic, you weren't able to question him further.

After that, you left as soon as you could. Were you scared? Of Minami? No. You wanted to help him, stay by his side and you would have gladly, if your mother wouldn't have called.

The uneasy feeling spreaded in your heart, consuming it and filling your brain up with immense fear. "Say goodbye to Minami and come back to home, we've to talk." that's what your mom said and maybe you were just overthinking but the way she said goodbye instead of see you later won't leave your mind, not even for a second.

You hurriedly opened the door of your house. Your mother was in the living room, talking someone on the phone but when she heard that you were back, she hang up on them.

"What's wrong, mom?"

She hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth. "We're going back to Japan."

@kikaicore this one is incredibly short, I know, but I promise next part will be longer. Plus I have such angst in my mind lol.

[deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist]

Thank you so much for another wonderful chapter! “But that cruel voice that lives in the back of your head creeps forward, reminding you the truth. Too much. That’s too much. This will have to be enough because if you go any further you just fall into Ben forever. You’ll give him everything, because he’s everything, and when this is over you’ll have nothing. So you can’t give him all of you, and he doesn’t want it anyways.” Breaks my heart - I get it completely, but I hurt for her and everything she went through that made her feel like that.

“Massachusetts,” he looks up and winks. “It gave me you.” Awww! Damnit, love it when he’s being sweet and spicy together!

“Give him everything you have and more for making you feel this. For touching you like you’re not broken and shattered and missing pieces that are covered in ash and blood somewhere in upstate New York. For holding you like he could fill the cracks lining your head with gold and fire and him.” Simply beautiful!

“When you’re both breathless—your body alert and electric and that powerful thing in Ben like thunder” (I love she can feel it, but doesn’t know what/why it is!) “It’s when his hand moves a lock of your hair, plastered to your forehead from sweat, that you feel the weight of it crash into you. This is everything. This is the whole world, this is more than the whole world. This is you and Ben, and you-“ sounds like she’s already falling into Ben forever!

The whole dream sequence in the car is beautiful and eloquent, especially “You need each other to keep them alive. These wrathful and bloody and forgiving and luminescent things inside you. That you could survive without, but don’t want to.” and

“It’s just Ben, it’s just you, and everything else is temporary. This is sacred, and could destroy the universe if you wanted it to. And when everything else was gone, it would still just be you and Ben.” and the paragraph that starts “He’s everything beautiful that’s ever existed.” is poetry!

So glad she spoke to her sister - powerful exchange with MM convincing her to call!

And this: “The Thing was quiet lately. Such a normal part of everything, so deeply ingrained into Ben that at this point he’d accepted it wasn’t going away. As long as She was alive, somewhere in the world with her heart beating, the Thing would sit in Ben and try to keep her safe. If She left him he’d still let her, because he’d always let her. But the Thing would never stop clawing at him to get back to Her. And Ben was going to have to find a way to live with that.” <chef’s kiss>

“But I’ve only seen it happen with people you-“ Violet was cut off as She threw another napkin.” Awww!! Ben would be preening like a peacock if he realized! And the scene betwern them after Violet left - beautiful.

“She rested her head back against him, and Her heart was uneven again. Ben couldn’t figure out why, why the fuck was her heart like that when she looked so peaceful, but when She looked back up at him she was smiling. So he let it go.” Oh, sweet Ben, if you only knew…

“He’d follow Her anywhere, and listen to her rants, and put up with all Her insane shit because she was fucking perfect. Because She did the same, for him, for almost everyone, and there wasn’t a goddamn person who deserved the world more than she did. So, if She let him, Ben would give it to Her. The world was fucking shit, but every part of it was more beautiful when she was around.” Perfection!

It’s now 04:30 in the morning - I stayed up late reading this, and I have no regrets whatsoever, because it was that good, and so worth it! Well done!!

Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I’m really hoping you guys still like the long and fluffy chapters, because this is the longest and fluffiest chapter yet. Call this a calm before the storm, but the calm is tooth-rotting fluff and the storm is... a secret. Chapter Title from Welcome Home, Son by Radical Face

Word Count: 23.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Everyone goes into lockdown, waiting for Stand Edgar to come through. Usual warnings.

Read on A03!

Chapter 13 - Chapter 15

It wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You were burning and burning and burning, and Homelander was laughing. Holding you by your neck to make you watch as Neuman and Zoe and Hughie burned. Crushed under falling bricks, unable to escape Homelander, escape you. The longer you looked, the more people appeared. All burning. Butcher and Annie and MM and Frenchie and your sisters and brothers and father and- 

You couldn’t find Ben. Where was Ben. He didn’t leave you, he wouldn’t leave you, so where was Ben. You must have groaned his name, called for him, because Homelander yanks you back further, hissing in your ear.

“Soldier Boy won’t save you, because you don’t need to be saved. You belong here, with me. I love you, not him. He left, and I’m still fucking here.”

You shook your head. Ben wouldn’t leave you. Homelander must have found a way to kill him because Ben wouldn’t leave you.

“Are you sure about that,” Homelander sneered. “Because I don’t see him anywhere. But maybe I missed him. Here.” He lasered through the bodies and stone, guts and blood flying through the air and turning to ash. “Hm, nope. Still no Soldier Boy.”

You start to scream, and everything is just fire. Ben didn’t leave. He was somewhere, in pain, and you couldn’t find him. He couldn’t find you. And you were burning everything as Homelander laughed, because that’s what you were for. Homelander’s amusement, to help him burn the world, and you couldn’t find Ben-

Your sweat is cold, and evaporating around you. Scorching heat is drowning the air around you, and the only thing that isn’t uncertain—isn’t melting or only drifting away in smoke—is something strong and powerful around you. Something grounding you in a world where your screams are becoming sobs, everything is hot but not burning, and Ben is there. He’s the thing around you, caging you against him as the dream faded and reality became sharp once more. It hadn’t been real. This was real. Ben was real.

He’s humming, and you can feel the sound in your bones. His voice really is terrible—he’s off key and offbeat and for someone who speaks in such a natural baritone his voice sure does crack a lot—but it’s more than enough. It rolls through you, and you don’t care how awful a rendition of Moon River this is, it’s Ben doing it. And that’s what brings you back down. It’s Ben who's humming, Ben whose hand is against your head, combing fingers through your hair. Ben who you can feel the warmth of as your fire dies out, and Ben who you can smell all around you. Pine and salt and gunpowder, not blood and barbecued flesh. Ben.

You pull back slowly and meet his eyes. His mouth is tight, jaw clenched, and he’s waiting for you to speak first. It takes a second, and your voice is hoarse from the screaming, but you find breath and croak, “How long was I out?”

“Almost thirteen hours. It’s 3am.”

“Did I wake yo-“

“No,” Ben grunts. “I was up. Working.”

You blink at him. “Working?”

“Making myself damn useful.”

You tilt your head at Ben, eyes quickly scanning to room for what he could mean. All the drawers and dressers are open, clothes are scattered in heaps that seem patternless across the floor, and Ben’s shield has been moved to the bedroom. The answer clicks, pushing through the exhausted haze of your brain, and you look back at him.

“Were you packing?”

Ben nodded curtly. “Starlight said they could keep Neuman in temporary lockdown, but they’ll be here in the morning to move us out.”

“Do you need help?”

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Ben detangles from where he’s holding you, pulling the blanket up over you as he stands. “Rest.”

“I just slept for thirteen hours.” You say with a flat look, pushing the blankets away, and Ben glares down at you.

“And you’ll sleep for thirteen more.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you snap. “I want to help. I want to be useful-“

“You can be useful, and fucking rest,” Ben retorted, not budging. “I can pack my damn self.”

“Can you?” You look around the room again, at how he’s tried to sort everything into piles that you couldn’t make sense of if you tried. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you threw everything onto the floor and called it a day.”

He scowls. “I have a system.”

“Well, teach it to me, and I’ll help.”

“No.”

“Ben, please, I want to help. I need to help.” Any anger is quickly flooded by fear. Fear that you’re not useful, a burden, he’s not letting you help because you’ll just fuck it up and blow everything up-

“I told you, you’ll be helpful by fucking resting.” Ben leans down, holding your face gently between his hands. “You just took on a nuclear blast alone. Even for you that’s a shit ton of power, and you need damn rest. You're tired.”

He's right, you are tired. Your whole body is aching, and your eyes are heavy. Everything is heavy. But you still shake your head weakly.

“I just need to help,” you reach up to hold his arm and squeeze. “I’ll sleep in the van, and when we get to Jersey. Please.”

Ben sighs, and kisses your forehead. When he meets your gaze again, he’s searching your face for something, lips drawn in a frown. For a terrible moment you think he’s going to tell you just to sleep. That he’ll take care of it and that you’d be of more use asleep than helping him-

“If you stay in bed,” his voice is low and quiet. “I’ll be your arms and you can sort things your own stupid way.”

“Oh,” you nod, his hands still against your cheeks and jaw. “Yeah. Deal.”

He grunts, standing once more and walking to the center of the room. He turns, giving you an expectant look, and you survey his mess.

“So was there a method to your madness? Or were you just talking out of your ass when you said you had a system.”

“There was a goddamn system,” Ben grumbles, and you raise your brows at him. He sighs. “I can’t fucking remember what it was.”

You feel your mouth tug upwards. “Old man-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re no fun,” you’re smiling a little more, and he rolls his eyes. “We’ll start with two piles. Stuff that's yours and stuff that's mine.”

“How will I be able to fucking tell-“

“Do you wear bras, Benjamin?” You drawl, and he huffs.

“Brat.”

“I’m not the one who doesn’t know what his own clothing looks like. Two piles.”

Ben starts to shuffle through the room, throwing your things onto the bed and his next to his shield. You watch him move silently, hands fidgeting in your lap, and thank the universe that both of your wardrobes have been designed to withstand nukes. The way Ben is ripping everything from the floor and chucking them to their place he’d have probably torn everything he’s touched otherwise. At some point you realize that you’re wearing the same jeans and shirt from yesterday, and though they’re still technically intact the fabric is thin. One wrong movement from tearing. 

You start to stand, and Ben’s head snaps up from where he's been glowering at a pile of his boxers, your shirts, and mismatched socks. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“Going to the bathroom?” You give him a flat glare. “Am I allowed to do that, your highness?”

He grunts, attention returning to the pile. “Be fast.”

“I’m going to take the longest shit you’ve ever seen in your fucking life.”

You take several, slightly unsteady steps, and suddenly Ben’s arm is wrapped around your torso.

“I can walk-“

“I have fucking eyes,” he snaps. “You almost fell over.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“No, it’s not,” Ben scans over you, then around the complete mess of your room. “I’m going to carry you to the bathroom, you’re going to shit, and then you’re going right back to the fucking bed.”

He doesn’t leave time for argument, dropping down to hook his free arm under your legs and pulling you upwards.

“You know, I think you carry me more places than I walk at this point.” You mutter, and Ben rolls his eyes.

“I don’t see you fucking complaining about it.”

You shrug, “it doesn’t feel like a battle worth the effort.”

“Because you like it.”

“No, because it’s a stupid fight to have.”

Ben nods, winking as he lowers you onto the toilet. “And you like it.”

You glare at him as stands. “Fuck you.”

He chuckles, leaning down to quickly kiss you, and you lean forward into it. When Ben pulls away with a long suck of your lip, he’s smirking again. “Not until after you shit.”

“Wait,” you grab his arm as he moves to leave. “Can you get me some clothes?”

“Clothes?” Ben frowns. “For what?”

“Wearing?” You giggle at his scowl. “I need to change, these feel like they’re about to fall off my body.”

“I don’t see the issue with that.”

You whack his thigh, pushing him out of your grip and back to the bedroom. “Shut up, you horny old man. Get me clothes.”

Ben leaves the bathroom with a grunt, closing the door behind him. You listen to him move around the room, tapping your foot in restless bounces, and right when you’re flushing a knock sounds on the door.

You stand, your legs a little steadier than before, and open the door. Ben is holding a large pile of shirts, pants, and underwear, still frowning as he looks down at you.

“This shit smelled clean,” he grumbles, thrusting the clothing forward. “Take what you want.”

Humming, you sort through your options. Ben seems determined not to let go of anything you don’t explicitly request, making this a little difficult, but you manage to turn through the pile without removing things from his arms. Most of the underwear is lacy and thin—you didn’t even know you owned anything like this—and you give him an amused look.

“I am almost positive I have clean underwear that isn’t lingerie.”

“You might,” he winks. “But I seemed to have missed it.”

“What if I just don’t wear underwear?” You tease, and Ben’s whole body stiffens. “Because I am not wearing,” you hold up a black pair made from the most itchy fabric you’ve ever felt, lined with bows. “These.”

“Promise?” He growls, staring at you with a gaze that’s far too intense for this early in the morning. You throw the underwear at his face, and he doesn’t even flinch.

You giggle, and he glares at you through the sheer material. Returning to the pile, you pull out a large, white t-shirt. “This is yours.”

“You’d look better in it.” Ben snaps his head forward, causing the underwear to fall back to the pile, and grins at you. “And just it.”

“Uh huh,” you wrinkle your nose at him, but still take the shirt anyway. “Pants?”

Ben nods at a single pair of shorts, and you glare at him.

“It’s the middle of February.”

“And? You’re a damn living furnace.”

“I can still feel cold.”

“We’ll get you a fucking blanket. You’re resting on the ride anyways.”

You sigh, but take the shorts, along with one of the slightly less lewd underwear options. “I’m never trusting you with clothing again.”

“Thank fuck.” Ben looks at the clothing in your hands. “You done?”

At your nod you think he’s going to close the door, but instead he drops all the clothing to the floor and reaches up to grab your face, pulling you towards him. You let out a small squeak of surprise, and he chuckles as your mouths meet.

It’s a long, gentle, lazy kiss. Sloppy and all tongue, one of Ben’s hands gliding into your hair as the other drops to wrap around you. He keeps going and going until you’re all but falling into him, and the moment your moans become his name he’s gone. Leaning back, smirking down at you as you try to catch your breath. You can feel him, all of him, the powerful thing in his chest and the hunger in his blood. It’s so painfully familiar, and it’s everything.

“Cunt,” you mutter through your teeth, and he laughs.

“Get changed, then get your ass back in bed.” He moves back down to kiss the scrunch of your nose, and then closes the door with a wink.

You flip him off through the wood, and hope he feels it. You have to lean against the wall of the bathroom to change—something you will never tell Ben—but you manage, and when you return to the bedroom it’s a little cleaner. Ben’s succeeded in separating the clothing into piles, and is glaring at your pile like it’s just insulted his mother.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, walking up behind him.

He doesn’t look away from the clothing. “You have too much fucking shit.”

“I’d say I have a pretty average amount of shit.” You hum, glancing at Ben’s own, much smaller pile. “It’s just a lot in comparison to your shit.”

Ben follows your gaze. “I have exactly as much as I damn need.”

You shrug. “As long as you’re happy with it. But don’t shit on my parade just because yours is tiny and pathetic.”

“As you’re aware,” Ben says your name with a smirk, arm slinging around your shoulders and tugging you into his side. “Nothing about me is tiny or pathetic.”

“I don’t think I am aware,” you meet his eyes, letting your challenge show across your face. “I think you need to prove it.”

He makes a deep sound that moves from somewhere in his chest to yours, and the lust almost explodes inside him. Inside you. Ben picks you up—your legs scrambling to wrap around him—and kisses your neck, then your jaw, then tugs at your ear with his teeth. He’s everywhere, crossing almost every part of your face with his mouth, holding you with one arm as the other roams your body. The only place he isn’t is where you need him the most, against your lips, pressing your tongue, inside you in the only way you can allow without completely shattering for him.

You fall back onto the bed, sinking into the mattress as Ben all but eats you alive, and your hands start to scrape at his back, up his neck, trying to leave some sort of impossible mark that proves he was here. That he did this to you, so the world will know that at some point he wanted you half as much as you need him. He still won’t just kiss you, biting and sucking and licking every single inch of your face except your mouth. If you could control yourself a little more, you’d stop moaning and whining his name to tell him to just kiss you.

“Ben,” you try to hiss or snap at him, but it’s just a breathless whimper against his ear. You’re starting to grind up into his body, and the groan that leaves his throat only spurs you on. “Fuck, Ben, you di-“

That does it. His mouth crashes into yours, burying you between the bed and him, just Ben, Ben, Ben, tasting like coffee and bruising you with his hands and the hunger and strength of everything in him. You think you scream his name into his mouth—you can hear a needy and loud sound but can’t really tell what’s happening to you save for the thirst and fervor for Ben—but he just keeps going, pressing his hips down until you’re pinned beneath him. You could live like this, you decide. Safe and desired under Ben’s body, nothing to worry about except trying to show him that he’s everything, no pain to feel except the ache all over you for him.

When Ben sits up, grinning down at you, he might be glowing. It might just be the haze and feverish heat he’s planted in your head, but you could swear he’s glowing. You try and pull him back down, but he just hangs above you, not ever moving an inch.

“Get your ass back down here, Benjamin,” it’s supposed to be a firm order, but even to your own ears it sounds like a plea. “You can’t just fucking do that-“

“Do what?” His voice is mockingly innocent, especially given the feral look in his eyes and the rumble of want you can feel from his chest. “You’re gonna have to be a little more fucking specific, Sunshine.”

“Fuck you.”

He doesn’t take the bait this time, remaining right above you but still too far away. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ben leans down so he’s whispering in your ear. “All you have to do is fucking ask.” 

You almost do. You almost beg, give in, tell Ben to do whatever he fucking wants to you as long as he’s doing something. Anything. Everything. Just as long as it’s him. But that cruel voice that lives in the back of your head creeps forward, reminding you the truth. Too much. That’s too much. This will have to be enough because if you go any further you just fall into Ben forever. You’ll give him everything, because he’s everything, and when this is over you’ll have nothing. So you can’t give him all of you, and he doesn’t want it anyways.

You’re silent for a second too long, and you feel something confusing and rough pierce in your ribs from Ben’s body. But he just leans down, giving you one last gentle kiss before standing. Leaving the air around you cold and empty without him. He’s gone from view, and when you sit up you find him hauling out boxes from the hallway.

“Where did those come from?” You ask, still a little breathless, and Ben shrugs.

“The French Prick and Kimiko dropped them off around midnight. Said to use them for transporting shit.” Ben looks up at you. “The French Prick said Kimiko wants you to text her when you’re awake.”

“Oh,” you smile slightly, looking around the room. “Where’s my phone?”

“Left it in your jacket,” Ben jerks his head to the dresser. When you start to stand, he drops the boxes and shoots you a glare, stomping over to your jacket. “Sit the fuck down,” he grumbles, fumbling through the pockets. “I’m the fucking arms.”

“You need to pack, I can get my phone myself-“

“No,” Ben pulls your phone out, stalking to your side. “You need to sit there, be beautiful, tell me what to do, and stop fucking moving.”

You snatch the phone from his hand, sticking your tongue out at him even as your face heats. “I’m helping you unpack in Jersey, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“We’ll fucking see,” he grumbles. “Fucking Jersey.”

You snort as he returns to the boxes, watching him kick them across the floor. “What’s your agenda against Jersey? What did it ever do to you?”

“It’s a shit state for fucking pussies.”

“You say that about every state that isn’t New York or Pennsylvania.”

“That’s because those are the only two states fucking worth something.”

“I thought your whole thing was loving America,” you cross your arms, tilting your head at him. “Only liking 4% of it isn’t very patriotic of you, Soldier Boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ben grunts, attention still on the boxes. “And I don’t only like 4% of America.”

You hum. “If we go by state, 2 out of 50 is 4%. If we go by population, you might be just breaching 10%.”

“I like more than two states.”

“Really,” you give him a bored, disbelieving look. “Name one more state you like.”

“Massachusetts,” he looks up and winks. “It gave me you.”

“Kiss ass,” you mutter, and Ben chuckles.

“Yep.”

“Name one more,” you lean forwards a little, watching him hunch down to the clothing. “And divide them into smaller piles.”

“What?”

“The clothes, divide them into smaller piles. Pants with pants, shirts with shirts, etcetera.”

Ben shoots you an exasperated look, but starts to chuck his clothes around into slowly building bundles on the floor. “Fucking bossy,” he grumbles, and you scoff.

“You told me to be,” your tone is annoyed, but you can feel the smile stretching your face. “Name another state. California? That will get you a big population grab.”

“I fucking despise California,” Ben mutters. “Bunch of fake pussies with plastic tits taking boner pills.”

“What about Washington? First state to legalize weed. You love weed.”

Ben snorts. “Weed not being legal never fucking stopped me before.” He looks up at you with a frown. “MM said we could order shit now, right?”

“Yeah?” Ben opens his mouth, and you cut him off. “We are not ordering you drugs.”

He scowls. “Why the fuck not.”

“Because we’re literally moving to a federal building. We’re going to be living in the FBSA Headquarters. They’ll notice if you DoorDash cocaine.”

“What the hell is DoorDash.”

“Food delivery service,” you watch Ben start to throw clothing into the bins. “Are you not going to fold them first?”

“We don’t have time to fucking fold them.” He mutters, and you blink.

“Ben,” you say slowly. “What time are they coming by to pick us up?”

“Five.”

You look down at your phone, the clock reading 4:45, and look back up at Ben. “Benjamin-“

“I got fucking distracted,” he grunts. “You’re just as much to blame as me.”

“As I,” you correct, and he rolls his eyes. “And if you had told me-“

“You would’ve tried to help, and passed out on the floor.” Ben snaps, slamming the lid over the first box. “And we’ll be fine. We’ve got time.”

“But-“

Ben moves back to the bed, dragging the remaining boxes behind him. “I can fucking handle this. Text Kimiko.”

You glare at him, but open up your phone and poke through your messages. There’s one from MM—telling you about the van coming at 5am—two from Butcher that you don’t look at, and one from Mallory, asking you to clean the house before you leave. You would’ve, or at least tried to, if you’d gotten more than a day’s evacuation notice. So you send her an apology, and move onto the last unread message. 

Kimiko: Second Hottest Person on the Team

Are you ok?

I told Soldier Boy to make sure, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention

You glance up at Ben, who’s violently throwing your clothes into different piles.

“Can you please not rip my clothing,” you watch as he chucks a bra across the mattress.

“Your shit is built to withstand the goddamn sun. It won’t fucking rip,” Ben grumbles, but does throw the shirt in his hands less like he’s trying to pitch a fastball.

You look back down at your phone, responding to Kimiko.

I’m okay. Just tired.

You pause, watching Ben pick up the pile of pants at your side and dump them in the bin.

And Ben did tell me. He just has a resting bitch face.

The response comes almost immediately.

Kimiko: Second Hottest Person on the Team

Good

I’ll see you at the apartments

You blink at your screen, about to text back and ask why she’ll see you—because the team should be laying low after Neuman—and what she means by apartments plural, but Ben’s head shoots up, looking out the door and down the hall.

“Wha-“

Ben raises his hand, and you fall silent with a frown. His jaw clenches, picking up a pair of your jeans from the bin, and says through gritted teeth, “There’s someone downstairs.”

“Ben-“ He’s walking out the door, and you hiss in a hushed tone after him. “Ben, it’s probably just Butcher-“

He glares back at you. “No it’s not. I know what Butcher fucking sounds like. Stay here and be quiet.”

“Benjamin-“

He’s gone, and your finger starts to tap anxiously. He said to stay here. And you trust him. But he’s also a paranoid ass, and might be about to attack Butcher or Hughie or MM just because of it. But he said to stay here, and it might not be just one of your team members-

An unfamiliar voice shrieks from downstairs, and you don’t even think before you sprint out of the bed and down the stairs, skidding to a halt when you see Ben pointing a gun at an unfamiliar woman. She’s frozen in fear, shaking as Ben shouts at her.

“Who the fuck are you! Who do you wor-“ Ben looks up at you with a scowl, snapping your name. “I told you to fucking stay upstairs.”

“What the hell-“

“Take, take a step back and put your hands up,” a shaky voice interrupts you, and you look up to see another man—dressed in the same black suit as the woman—pointing a gun at you with a shaky hand. “Your behavior is hostile, and I will, I’ll shoot. I’ll do it.”

You sigh, realizing what’s happening. “Oh my god-“

“You shoot her and I’ll rip your fucking spine out and shove it up your goddamn asshole,” Ben roars, and the woman on the barrel end of his gun makes a weak sound.

“That’s, that’s a crime sir-“

“See if I give a single goddamn fuck-“

“Holy fucking shit,” you shout, raising your hands up. “Everyone calm the hell down, now.”

“Ma’am, I have been authorized to use force-“

“Fucking Butcher,” you mutter, before raising your voice and giving the man a glare. “I bet you have been. But shooting me will only make him,” you point to Ben. “Angry.”

“He, uh, he already seems pretty angry-“

“Angrier. Just put the gun down. That means you-“ you turn to Ben with a glare. “As well.”

“Not until they tell us who fucking sent them-“

“The FBSA, dumb dumb. They’re here to transport us, not try and kill us.”

Ben returns your glare. “You don’t fucking know that-“

“Yeah, I do.” You cross the room, over to the shaking man. His gun raises a little higher, aiming at your forehead, but he lowers it when he sees your bored expression. You stop in front of him, stepping to the side to give Ben a better view, and jab a finger at the man’s jacket. At the clearly displayed Agent Moore, FBSA badge pinned to it.

Ben scoffs, and lowers his gun. “How the fuck was I supposed to see that.”

“With your genetically enhanced vision?” You snap, and give the woman an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about him, he’s not house trained.”

“Shut up,” Ben grumbles, and you stick your tongue out at him as you return to his side. “They could’ve damn knocked.”

“And you could’ve asked questions first and shot later.”

“I fucking did. Do either of them look dead?”

You look between the agents, both trembling in fear but very much alive. “No.”

Ben gives you a smug grin. “Who’s unobservant now?”

“Still you.”

“Um,” the woman—squinting at her chest you can make out Agent Cortez on her badge—looks between you and Ben nervously. “We’ve been told by Director Grace Mallory and William Butcher to collect you both and bring you to the FBSA headquarters.”

“We’ve fucking figured that out-“

“We,” you raise your brows at Ben. “Who’s we?”

“Christ on a cross,” Ben mutters, only loud enough for you to hear, and you smile sweetly at him. “She,” Ben gives you a pointed glare. “Figured that out.”

“Will you, will you be compliant?” The man—Agent Moore—fidgets with his gun, and you feel Ben tense against you.

“Yes, we will be.” You elbow Ben. “Right?”

“Whatever.”

You roll your eyes, and look back at the agents with a close-lipped smile. “He’s grumpy.”

“Stop calling me fucking grumpy-“

“Stop being grumpy. And give the agent her gun back.”

Ben scowls. “No.”

“Ben-“

“I’ll be compliant,” his face twists at the word, lips curling like it’s disgusting on his tongue. “But I keep the fucking gun.”

You sigh. “Fine. Do you need help with the clothes-“

“No.” Ben shoves the gun between his pants and body and glares at the FBSA agents. “Wait here. And if they try anything-”

“They literally can’t hurt me. I’ll be fine.” You give him a slight pout. “But if you’re really worried, I’m sure I could come with you and help-“

Ben snorts, and turns to climb back up the stairs. “Nice try, brat.”

“Cunt!” You call after him, flipping off his back.

His laugh echoes through the house, and vanishes into your bedroom.

You glare at the spot he vanished, and turn back to the living room and to see the agents watching you with wide eyes and pale faces.

“Uh, I’m really sorry about that. But he’s kind of…” you sigh. “Vigilant. And I think we were both expecting someone from our team-“

“Is it true that you’re more powerful than Homelander?” Agent Moore blurts, and your blood turns cold.

“I, uh, I don’t-“

“Jerry,” Agent Cortez hisses at Moore, still looking at you wearily. “Director Mallory said not to talk to them-“

“But you saw her file!” Moore whispers back, also not looking away from you. “And we watched the Firecracker videos together-“

“Shut up,” Cortez snaps, voice dropping to an almost panicked, hushed tone. “We’re just supposed to get them and go. Not ask questions about their powers.”

“But her powers are confusing! She has like a million!” Moore wrings his hands, gun waving in the air. You should probably be worried about that, but you’re more annoyed with the whole conversation. You can understand why Ben was so whiny about this in December. It is annoying having people talk about you, in front of you, like you’re not there. And you do not have a million powers. You have—if you count the whole immortality thing—five.

“And there’s the whole weird thing with Homelander saying Soldier Boy kidnapped her!” Moore continues, still practicing terrible firearms safety. “But she doesn’t look kidnapped-“

“Shut up! Soldier Boy has super hearing!”

“But she doesn’t! This is weird, Lily! Yesterday the news is saying that Soldier Boy forced her to kill Vice President Neuman and Homelander arrived too late save them, then we’re getting a text at 1am saying to take them to HQ, and now-“

“I can hear you, you know,” you sigh. “And Ben didn’t kidnap me. You shouldn’t believe everything you see on TV.”

Both freeze, watching you like you’re about to attack them. Cortez stutters out, “we’re sorry, we didn’t-“

She’s interrupted by Ben shouting your name down the stairs. “Where the fuck is your phone!”

“In my hand!” You call back. “Are you almost done?”

“Can you ask the FSBI pussies if they have blankets?!”

You frown. “Blankets?!” 

“For the ride!” Ben’s face pokes out of the door, drawn in a stupidly handsome glare. “You’re fucking napping on the way to Jersey, Sunshine.”

“Oh, piss off.” You wrinkle your nose at him. “You can’t make me nap, I’m not a child-“

“I won’t have to make you, you’re going to sit down and pass out right the fuck out. You always pass out.”

“I don’t always pass out.”

“How many times have I carried you into the house?” Ben drawls, and you scowl.

“Fuck you.”

Ben winks, not with company over, Sunshine. You’ll make them deaf with all your damn screaming.

I’m going to fucking strangle you. You glower, and he chuckles, vanishing back into your room.

“Ask about the fucking blankets!” He yells, and you turn back to the agents with a sigh.

“We don’t have blankets,” Agent Cortez says nervously, looking past you, up the stairs. “Is he going to be mad?”

“He’ll whine like a little bitch,” you raise your voice to make sure Ben hears you. “But he won’t hurt you.”

“I am not a little bitch.” Ben appears back at the top of the stairs, somehow carrying three of the four large bins at once.

“But you whine like one.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, descending back into the living room. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable, is that a damn crime?”

“Not on its own, but if you murder a bunch of FBSA agents about it, yes.”

Ben drops the boxes on the floor, glaring at the agents. “You pussies think you can handle carrying these outside?”

“Um,” Cortez blinks at him. “That will restrict our view, and we’re not supposed to let you out of our sights.”

“Well, you already fucking failed there.” Ben snaps, and you stomp on his foot. “What?”

“Don’t be a dick, they’re doing their best.”

“If this is their fucking best, I’d hate to see their damn worst.”

You ignore him, turning back to the agents. “Can you please help us bring our stuff out to the car?”

“I guess…” Moore mumbles, and Ben nods sharply.

“Good,” Ben grunts, marching back up the stairs. “And if she tries to help you, shoot her.”

You sigh. “Please do not shoot me.”

“Then don’t try and fucking help!” Ben’s voice carries down the hall, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not made of glass, you asshole! I can carry a box!”

“Maybe,” Ben appears once more, holding the last bin and his shield, your jacket tossed over his shoulder. “But you shouldn’t goddamn have to.”

“I don’t have to,” you snap. “I want to help. I’m wide awake right now, and I feel fine. I’ll use a favor, Benjamin, don’t test me.”

“Fine. One box. The suits can carry the other two.”

You smile at him, wide and easy, and he just grunts. As Cortez and Moore awkwardly pick up their boxes you pull your jacket off of Ben and shrug it on. He doesn’t stop watching you—lips pulling down as you pick up your box—knuckles white on his own box.

You nudge Ben’s shoulder with yours as you walk to his side. “No sentimental goodbyes?”

“Goodbyes?” Ben’s voice is sharp, and you feel something contract in his chest. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“No, goodbyes to the house.” You blink at him, following the agents to the front door. “I’m going with you.”

“Good.” The thing loosens, and you could swear you hear Ben let out a small huff of relief. “And I’m not saying goodbye to a fucking house.”

“What, no emotional attachment to the sofa or the stove?” You tease, and Ben gives you a glare.

“Those are just fucking things. I don’t give a shit about a sofa. I can get a sofa anywhere.”

You hum. “Not at a McDonalds. Or a Sephora.”

“What the fucking hell is a Sephora.”

“You have a phone now,” you grin up at him. “Google it.”

“Why would I do that when you can just fucking tell me.”

“Because I won’t get to laugh at you trying to spell Sephora.” Ben scoffs, and you examine his bored, neutral face. Whenever your arms brush you can feel something that’s lazy and warm rooted in his chest, so it’s not like he’s bored of you. 

Yet, the bitter voice reminds you. Bored of you yet.

“You really don’t give a shit that we’re leaving?” You ask softly, a little afraid of the answer. Afraid that he doesn’t give a shit about the house because it’s meant nothing to him. That’s he’s happy with this—with you—because of the lust, or because kissing you is just easier than trying to kill you. But he hasn’t been trying to kill you for a while, and the kissing only just started. But maybe that’s less about you and more about the convenience. He’s horny and you’re there. But he hasn’t pushed you, and if it was just about the convenience he would’ve fucked Drug Boobs at Frenchie’s weird club. Why didn’t he fuck Drug Boobs? If it’s about convenience why did he leave Drug Boobs? To find you, before the kissing had even started? Why did he go out of his way to get you home? Not home anymore, and why doesn’t he care about that? That it’s not home anymore? He doesn’t have to care, but why doesn’t he? Why doesn’t he care-

“It’s just a fucking house. We can get another.” Ben’s grumble pulls you from your spiral, and you frown up at him.

“But-“

“You’re coming with me.” Ben says your name, voice firm as he exits through the door. “That’s all I give a fuck about.”

Your whole body becomes warm, even as you follow him into the chill of the winter dark and wind. “Okay,” you whisper, and Ben looks down at you. His face is cast in shadows, and golden light of the street lamps makes him glow. It’s not just the haze of your thirst from before. He’s shining.

“Are you going to get fucking mad at me if I kiss you?” he grunts, and the shake of your head feels frantic.

“Never-“

Ben doesn’t waste any time, dropping his bin and shield and crashing into you. His warm hands holding your face, calluses rough against your skin, making you feel holy. Making you feel so safe under the wide night, because all of the sky and its stars could fall and collapse onto you and it would still just be Ben. The gravity of him would keep you close, and he’d hold the sky, and you’d worship him for it. Give him everything you have and more for making you feel this. For touching you like you’re not broken and shattered and missing pieces that are covered in ash and blood somewhere in upstate New York. For holding you like he could fill the cracks lining your head with gold and fire and him. That’s what makes you drop your own bin—your hands shooting up to sink into his hair and rest on his beard as his own arms drop to circle you—and push back into him with every single part of you that’s still worth something. Worth half as much as the zealous way he’s touching you, worth a quarter of the enormous and consuming ardor that’s climbing from Ben into you. Making every part of you beat against your body, telling you to maybe just carve your soul out of wherever you keep it and give it to him.

When you’re both breathless—your body alert and electric and that powerful thing in Ben like thunder—you separate in unison. Ben rests his head against yours for a second, one arm tight around you as its opposite moves a hand to your face, tracing your cheekbones lightly. He’s watching you, you’re locked into him. His eyes and smell and body and Ben. It’s when his hand moves a lock of your hair, plastered to your forehead from sweat, that you feel the weight of it crash into you. This is everything. This is the whole world, this is more than the whole world. This is you and Ben, and you-

One of the agents coughs, and Ben’s head snaps any from you, jaw clenched with his arm around you. “What the fuck do you want.”

“Um,” when you manage to look away from Ben, you see Moore looking between you with a blush. “Mr. Butcher just asked us to please hurry up.”

“Butcher said that?” You frown, and Moore scratches the back of his head.

“He used some other words too. And didn’t say please.”

“Other words, as well,” Ben corrects, and you feel a rush of pride through him. Through you—something dangerous and close to breaking out of your body swelling—even as you sigh.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“And that’s your fucking cross to bear, Sunshine.” Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head and peels himself away. Picking up his shield, his box, and your box. “Now get your beautiful ass in the car.”

“Give me back my box-“

“I can’t hear you,” Ben starts to walk away and you can hear the cocky smirk on his face as he says your name.

“Yes you fucking can. Don’t play dumb with me, Pretty Boy-“

Ben drops his shield and the boxes in the trunk of the agent’s SUV. “You’re tired.”

Your whole body suddenly feels like there's a weight on it, your head falling to a sleepy daze. “Stop fucking doing that.”

“Doing what?” Ben’s face is a picture of mock innocence as he returns to your side. “I didn’t do a damn thing.”

“Fucking cunt-“

“Brat.” Ben scoops you into his arms, carrying you into the car. The concrete, unyielding care and protection of Ben wraps through you, dragging sleep closer.

“I could’ve walked,” you mumble against his skin, your head buried in his neck.

“But you fucking didn’t, so here we are.”

You hum a muffled, faint insult—even you don’t know what it’s supposed to be—Ben chuckles. It rumbles through your guts and sits comfortably somewhere in your hips, and Ben’s grip loosens just enough for you to slide down his body as he sits. You can feel his warmth, smell the pine and gunpowder of him, and he’s humming again and god it’s terrible, but it’s somehow the best sound you’ve heard in your life. His hands start to trace patterns against where he’s holding you, and your whole body goes limp as your mind clears to Ben.

You don’t even know where you are. You could be buried in the sand of a desert, or floating through somewhere far in space, or dropped in the middle of the arctic circle, but it wouldn’t matter. Because Ben is touching you, kissing you until you can’t think about stupid things like where you are. It’s just Ben, it’s just you, and everything else is temporary. This is sacred, and could destroy the universe if you wanted it to. And when everything else was gone, it would still just be you and Ben.

He’s everything beautiful that’s ever existed. He’s the ocean in the summer, vast and consuming and the more you look the more you realize there’s no end. He’s the stars you prayed to as a child, so rare and peaceful when the city's blaring car horns and glowing billboards always drowned out the sky, such a small solace to see from the roof when your eyes were blurred with tears. He’s the songs you loved to sing when it was easy and uncomplicated—in the car and in the shower and into a microphone until drunk frat boys bought you a drink—making you feel like a little more than just a heart in a wide world, making you feel like there’s something you can shape with your will as your voice called like a siren to passers by. He’s every drop of sugar that’s ever hit your tongue, every soft patch of grass under your feet, every single smile and laugh and victory.

He’s above you, and kissing you, and touching you on every part of your body and in some spaces between. He’s growling filth into your ear, but it’s all just a blur of deep sounds that fall in time with your moans. Grinding against you and sucking your upper lip. Nose bumping yours and strong hands kneading your skin and ass and breasts. Knee pushing between your legs and tongue tracing your teeth. It’s all just Ben, and he’s yours. He’s not leaving you to rot in this fever. He’s grown something in you and you’ve grown something in him and now they need each other. You need each other to keep them alive. These wrathful and bloody and forgiving and luminescent things inside you. That you could survive without, but don’t want to. You have them now, and if you have any sort of power over your life you’ll use it to keep them. Keep Ben.

Your eyes blink open, and the first thing you hear is a too happy, over-saturated ding. There’s the rumble of the engine, the beat of Ben’s heart where your head rests against him, and another ding. You raise your head up—rubbing your face and letting your eyes adjust a focus in the dark car—and Ben squeezes your hips where he’s still holding on his lap.

“Go back to sleep,” he grunts your name, and you look up at him through bleary eyes. “We’re almost there.”

“How do you know that?” You mumble, and he shrugs.

“We’ve been driving for a million fucking years, we have to be close.”

You twist around slightly to see the front of the car and raise your voice for the agents to hear. “Excuse me-“

“Soldier Boy is correct, ma’am,” Cortez answers you before you can even ask the question, and you feel the smug satisfaction run from Ben into you. “We have approximately seven minutes until arrival.”

“Thank you,” you turn back to Ben, and are met with his smirk and overly pleased expression.

“Fucking told you.”

“Shut up,” you hit his arm, wriggling around so your back is pressed to his chest, using him as a very large, annoying chair. “And don’t tell me to go back to sleep.”

Ben scoffs at the drop of your tone and grunted words at the end, and you grin into the air. “Your impression of me is fucking terrible.”

“No, it’s not. I think I could’ve made it as a Soldier Boy impersonator at Voughtland if college fell through.”

“You would’ve been the worst fucking Voughtland impersonator in the world, Sunshine,” Ben’s chin drops to rest on your head, and you can feel every word he says through your blood.

“Why, because I’m a lady?”

He snorts. “You are not a fucking lady.”

“Fuck you,” you grumble, and a flash of hunger carves into your lower stomach. “And if they painted a beard on me, put a banana in my pants, and gave me a stupid helmet nobody would’ve known the difference. I’d have thrived.”

“They would’ve given you their shit corporate script to memorize and you’d have quit on the spot. No swearing,” Ben says your name mockingly. “You’d have exploded.”

You shrug, tapping your fingers where his arms wrap around you. “You seemed to manage. And you swear a lot more than I do.”

“I have better self control than you.”

That makes you snort. He has no idea how good your self control is. Every single second you’re in his presence alone you’re restraining every single instinct to just fuck him. To ride him or let him bury inside you, to damn every single piece of you that will never be able to recover from it. “Oh, fuck you.”

“When we get there, I’d be more than happy to.” Ben’s mouth is pressed into your ear as he taunts you, and he’s actively proving himself wrong. His deep voice is rolling through your body, his lips are taunting your skin, and you’re exercising godly amounts of self control to not jump his stupid bones. “I’d even be willing to do it here, but I didn’t take you to be an exhibitionist-“

The car stops with a jerk, and Ben’s hold you tightens as you slide forward against his legs.

“We’re here,” Moore’s looks at you in the rearview mirror, and you can see him fidget with his gun. “We’ve just been told to drop you off and move your belongings inside. Mr. Butcher will show you your…” He trails off, eyes flicking between you and Ben. Folded into each other, almost every part of you touching. “Apartment?”

Ben doesn’t think twice about Moore’s anxious guess—nothing in him twisting with disgust or annoyance—and starts to adjust your body so he can carry you out of the car.

“I can walk inside,” you slap Ben’s arm, squirming away from him. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”

“But I can-“

“But you don’t.” You roll off his body, and he scowls down at you.

“Just let me fucking help-“

“Ben,” you reach up to hold his face from where you’ve landed, head in his lap and feet hanging off the back seats. He stills completely, still glaring, something bloody and desperate running around inside him. “I am a grown woman. I will tell you if I need your help with anything, and right now I don’t.”

He’s still frowning. “Fucking swear it.”

“I promise I don’t need help walking the ten yards to the building.”

Ben’s scanning your face, something building taut against his chest. “If you even fucking stumble-“

“Then you can carry me everywhere for the rest of time and lord it over my head.” Your words are meant to be sarcastic and bored, but they come out a little too breathy, a little too hopeful. That Ben would be there for the rest of time, insufferable and annoying and right at your side. The bloody thing coursing through him becomes forceful—pushing up into his brain—and his hands cover yours.

“Deal.”

Ben pulls you upwards without a warning, and the small sound of the surprise that escapes you is swallowed into his mouth. He rolls you over in seconds, pressing you deep into the seats, and you really hope that the agents left the car at some point. Because nobody should have to witness the way he’s making you unravel, hear all the wet and lewd sounds from just the way Ben kisses you. With tongue and teeth with his body strong against yours and your legs hooked around him-

“Well, good bloody morning to both you twats.”

You start a little, Butcher’s sneer barely pushing into your brain enough to take you away from Ben’s mouth sucking against yours. Ben draws back first, looking over his shoulder to where Butcher’s voice came from. He’s blocking Butcher from view, not shoving you away from him, and one arm even pulls you a little off the seat so your head buries into his chest.

“Couldn’t fucking pick us up yourself, you pussy?” Ben drawls, and you hear Butcher’s laugh.

“Well, I’m sure as shit regretting that now. Could’ve gotten a front row seat to the sex show.” Butcher’s twisted smile appears in your vision as he ducks down. “Ready to admit you’re fucking him now, Love?”

Ben answers before you can. “She’s not a fucking liar. She hasn’t.”

“I just caught you two snogging like rabbits-“

“Well, we haven’t fucked.” Ben’s words are harsh and cold—the sour feeling returned—and the only thing that stops you from being overtaken with guilt is the stronger, almost overpowering steel like care that pulsing through him.

Butcher doesn’t seem worried or off put by Ben’s angry, defensive words, but you don’t think Butcher is capable of being worried or off put by anything. The only sign that he understands the unspoken, violent promise of Ben’s tone is that he raises his hands, palms up, and stands back out of your sight.

“Bit touchy, ain’t we,” Ben tenses against you, and you can hear Butcher’s scoff. “Well, you can keep not fucking later. Let’s get a bloody move on.”

He grunts, and starts to pull you up with him, but you whack his shoulder, dropping your legs to the floor of the car.

“I’m walking.”

Ben glares at you, and removes his arm from around you slowly. He doesn’t leave though, just looks down at you with none of that steel waning from inside him. Like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go.

You smile at him. “You should haul ass before one of the agents touches your shield.”

“They wouldn’t fucking dare,” he grumbles, but moves off you all the same. You grin after him, and avoid meeting Butcher’s eyes as you scoot out of the car.

The FBSA building is more or less what you expected. Tall, broad, black steel and long windows that reflect the rise of the sun. You’re parked around the back at what looks like a shipping dock, and Ben was, in fact, just in time to stop Moore from trying to pick up his shield. You see the chronically nervous man jump back as Ben rounds the car to the truck, his hands raising up shakily as Ben glares at him. You start to follow—if Ben tries to stop you from carrying a box he’ll get one thrown at his face—but Butcher shoots out an arm, stopping you in your path.

“Someone took their job of looking after Soldier Boy very seriously, didn’t she?” Butcher says lowly, and you glare at him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t get to pull any sort of morality card on me, Butcher. I know what I’m doing, and it’s not your business.”

“It’s my fucking business if you’re compromised.” Butcher hisses. “If you’d choose him over the mission, because you’ve got a bloody school girl crush on the fucker.”

You wouldn’t choose Ben over the mission. You wouldn’t let it come to that. You’d make sure that, at the end of the day, what needed to be done was done.

What if it did come to that? Something small and fearful whispers in your ear. What if it was Ben or the mission? And there wasn’t a trick or a move out of it? What would you do then?

It’s terrifying how quickly and against your will the entirety of you goes Ben. You’d choose Ben. It wouldn’t ever matter, because you’d fight tooth and nail to make sure you got both, but if it came to it, Ben. Every time you’d choose him. He might not choose you, but you burn the world to keep him awake and smiling with casual ease. You’d promised, and for some reason that’s more than just a school girl crush, that’s what matters. You trust him, he would keep you safe, keep you free, and so you’d always choose Ben.

But Butcher doesn’t get to know that, so you just say, “Fuck off, you dickwad. I’m not fucking compromised.”

“What are you going to do when he leaves?” Butcher growls. “When we’ve knocked Homelander off the map, and he’s shipped off to the fucking edge of the world? You think he’ll write you letters? Sweet little sonnets?”

No, because he’d said you could go with him. But Butcher doesn’t get to know that. “That’s not your fucking problem.”

“I’m just reminding you, Sunshine.” You loathe the way Butcher says that. Cold and angry, harsh in his mouth and screeching against your ears. “He’s not a bloody white knight, swooping in and saving the princess from the evil Vought Tower and the Homelander dragon. He’s just another, older, bigger fucking monster collecting a prize to keep on his shelf.”

Fury might blind you. Might eat you alive. The world becomes all bright white, closing in on you, pressing on your chest until it snaps.

“Butcher,” you say slowly, clearly. “I let you say a lot of fucking shit to me. I let you mock me and throw me to the wolves for the sake of the mission you claim I don’t care about. But if you ever-“ you spit the word, letting a bit of the fire that lives under your skin turn to smoke in the air. “Tell me how to fucking feel or think about something again, I will burn you alive. You don’t know anything about what it was like. What Homelander did to me.”

“Fucking tread lightly,” Butcher’s jaw is clenched, teeth gritted. “Becca-“

“Was the one he hurt,” you snap. “He hurt Becca. Not you. And he hurt me the same fucking way he hurt her. For years. But you only remember that when it’s convenient for you.”

“You better shut your mouth-“

“Or what?” You take a step forward, and Butcher flinches back. You hate it, it makes your skin crawl at how fast he retreats, but you don’t care that you hate it. The words are rocketing out of you, and you have no desire to stop them. “You can’t kill me. You can’t even fucking hurt me. You can’t do anything to me that won’t break me more than Homelander already has.” Something is wrapping around your throat, and your words become choked. “He fucking broke me. He broke Becca. And you might have gotten hurt in the fallout, but that’s fucking nothing compared to being the one that he actually hurt. On purpose. So never fucking tell me what to feel again.”

Butcher’s silent, staring at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You don’t get time to read it—to try and figure out if he just started plotting your disappearance or might be feeling remorse for the first time in his life—because Butcher starts to speak again in clipped, frosted words.

“It's the twenty-first floor,” he chucks a lanyard at you, a badge with the name Jane Smith at the end. “Go left, then right, and you’ll be in one long hallway. You’re the last door when you go left. You’ll be expected in the dining hall at 7pm. Don’t be fucking late.”

With that he whips around, and stomps into the building. You’re stuck in place, watching him walk away as the world starts to spin around you. Everything feels big and hollow and you’re afraid. You’d blown up, and they already didn’t trust you. They barely even liked you. And you’d just threatened Butcher when he already thought you were dangerous. And you were dangerous. He was right. You were a walking volcano, a living hurricane, more powerful than Ben, more powerful than Homelander. You were the dragon, you were the monster-

You’re pulled back to the ground when Ben’s arm slings around your shoulders, and when the world becomes clear again you look up to see him glaring at where Butcher had slammed the door into the building. “About fucking time.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“That Butcher gets his ass handed to him,” Ben looks down at you. “Don’t you fucking think about apologizing to that pussy. I’ll put tape over your mouth.”

“You’ll what?!”

“You’re going to feel damn guilty, and you’ll try to tell Butcher you’re sorry, and I’ll fucking gag you so you don’t.” The bloody steel is back inside of you—inside of Ben—and his words are simple and firm. “The asshole deserved that. He’s no fucking better than me, and he’s not ever goddamn close to being better than you.” 

Something warm blooms in your chest, and you don’t know if it’s yours or Ben’s. It’s familiar—like it belongs there—where others' emotions usually feel foreign and strange. But the line between you and Ben has started to blur, might have been blurred for a while, and you can’t always tell anymore. But the warmth makes the world lighter, and Ben’s arm around you makes the fear that Butcher will toss you to the curb seem less daunting. He couldn’t touch you, because Ben was here. He must see the look on your face—the gentle way you can feel it relax as a small smile crawls over your mouth—because he pulls you a little closer into him.

“Got your shield?” You ask softly, and Ben jerks his head back to the car.

“The FASI chucklefucks are bringing everything else up.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re refusing to say FBSA on purpose.” 

“They should come up with a better goddamn acronym,” he mutters. “Maybe then I’ll be fucked to learn it.”

You laugh, and try to shrug him off your shoulders. “Go get your shield, Pretty Boy. I want to go inside.”

He didn’t move away, remaining heavy around you, and when you look up at him expectantly he’s watching you carefully, studying your face. “You’re not mad about Butcher seeing us in the car.”

“I wish you’d ask questions like a normal person,” you mutter, and he rolls his eyes.

“Sunshine-“

That sounds better. The way Ben says Sunshine—long and low, lined with some sort of care even when he’s glaring at you—makes time slow a little and your heart flutters in your chest. “I’m not mad,” you tell him, and it’s easy to do so. It’s the truth, and Ben makes the truth simple. “He would’ve seen it eventually. And he was going to be pissed off no matter what.”

Ben nods slowly, and something wired scratches under your jaw. “And if I kiss you in front of the rest of them?”

“As long as you’re not gross about it-“

His hand draped near your neck grabs your jaw, holding you still as he leans down. He kisses you so lazily, as if time is something he could pull to a halt or simply didn’t matter. Time could turn and the world could go with it, but Ben would stay here and keep kissing you. In the light of the morning, with both of you wearing casual clothes, with Ben’s arm wrapped around you, with the air clean and cold, this feels like it could be normal. Like if someone passed you on the street they wouldn’t think twice about it, because there’s nothing strange or violent or complicated about two people kissing like this. About one of them holding onto the other’s shirt to pull them closer, or the other tangling their hand in the hair of the first because why wouldn’t they? Nothing’s odd or notable about you chasing Ben’s mouth when he starts to move away, nothing’s remarkable or worrying about him laughing when you do and giving you just that little more you wanted.

When Ben eventually does pull back he’s smiling, and everything in him and around him is comfortable.

“Ben?” You whisper, and he raises his brows at you.

He hums your name, and you can feel the warmth of his breath when it leaves his mouth. He says it in a teasing, drawn out manner, and you smile at him.

“If you ever put a gag on my mouth, I’ll burn it off and bite you.”

Ben laughed, that big chest laugh he does when there’s nothing to stop him, and it carries away into the wind. “Is that a promise?”

“Fuck you.”

“If you want,” Ben winks, starting to guide you over to his shield, arm never dropping from your shoulders. “I’d let you bite me without all the trouble of a gag.”

“Cunt.”

“Brat.” He picks up the shield, and glances back to the building. “Let’s get a move on before Butcher finds his excuse for balls.”

Getting into the building is worryingly easy. Ben pushes through the steel doors that hopefully will just lock behind you, and there’s nobody waiting when you walk inside. There’s an elevator next to the stairwell, but the stairwell says floors B-20, no roof access, so you step into the elevator and pray. There’s no 21st floor button, but there is a scanner that you press the Jane Smith badge against, and the elevator starts to move.

Ben leans over you, frowning at the badge. “Who the hell is Jane.”

“It’s a movie reference,” you frown at the photo Butcher chose for you, because you recognize it as your school id photo and can’t imagine how he got his hands on it.  “They can’t put my real name there.”

“Because you’re dead.”

“Legally dead,” you grin at him as the elevator slows. “As you well know, I’m very much alive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to fuck you if you weren’t,” Ben grumbles as you walk off the elevator. “I’m into some kinky shit, but that’s just fucking disgusting.”

Your face heats, now plagued with thoughts of the kinky shit Ben might be into, a spiral not aided by the words want to fuck you playing on repeat in your head. In order to distract yourself, you focus entirely on finding the apartment. “Butcher said to take a left-“

“I heard him,” Ben starts to herd you down the hall, and you let him. “He practically fucking screamed it.”

“That might just be your super hearing, Ben.”

“Or Butcher’s a loud fucking ass.”

You snort, and let Ben continue to move you until you stop in front of a tall, metal door with no handle or visible lock.

“How the fuck are we supposed to get in,” Ben grunts. “Dumbasses forgot to add a doorknob.”

“You know, it’s really amazing you were able to get anywhere when you left Russia, let alone to America,” you hum, raising the badge for Ben to see. “You’d really be lost without me holding your hand through the maze of the modern world.”

“I keep you around for a lot of fucking reasons, beautiful.” He mutters, squeezing your arm. “But the modern world isn’t one of them.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “Tell me what I’m going to do with this.”

Ben’s brows knit, eyes darting between the badge in your hand and the sleek door, eventually finding the scanner. “Put it there.” 

“And would you have been able to figure that out if I hadn’t done the same thing in the elevator?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You laugh, and scan the badge. The door slides into the wall with a pleasant whirring sound. Opening up to the apartment. Your apartment. With Ben. It hits you hard, right in the chest, that this is your apartment with Ben. Not a safe house that you’ve been locked into for the sake of a plan. This is purposefully for you and Ben, with one bedroom and one bathroom for you to share. With Ben.

It’s nice. Almost empty—completely devoid of the generic suburban decorations of the safe house—but nice. Really nice. High ceilings, large windows, polished floors. The type of apartment you used to dream of having, that would cost a small fortune if you were actually paying for it. From the door you can see a small kitchen area, fireplace, a flatscreen TV, and a staircase. There’s a staircase. That goes up to a loft strip.

That spurs you into action. You grab Ben’s hand and pull him through the door behind you, gaping around you.

“Jesus fucking Christ woman, slow the hell down-“

“Holy shit.” You breathe. “This place is fucking awesome.”

“It’s okay-“

“No, Ben, it’s fucking awesome.” You point up at the loft strip that leads to a single door. “Look at that shit. That’s awesome.”

“It’s a normal fucking apartment-“

“Maybe for you, rich boy.” You say, nudging him lightly, a wide smile still on your face. “Some of us lived with rats and radioactive mold for most of their lives.”

“Radioactive mold?” 

You shrug. “That’s what the inspector said.”

“Why wouldn’t you just fucking move?” Ben sounds genuinely confused, like he can’t possibly fathom why you wouldn’t just leave. You can feel it, as well. The almost naïve confusion. “Go somewhere that doesn’t have radioactive fucking mold.”

“I have terrible news for you about how much an apartment in New York costs and how much the average waitress gets paid.”

“Waitress? When were you a fucking waitress?”

“I have more terrible news about how expensive college tuition is,” you shrug. “It’s like this for most people, Ben. So can you please acknowledge that this is fucking awesome?”

He’s watching you, his jaw clenched, and you can feel something rolling around in him, pushing into his throat before dropping to his stomach and bouncing all the way up into his brain. It takes root there, and he swallows heavily.

“This is fucking awesome.” His tone is bored, but when you grin at him you can see his face soften in time with something against his ribs.

“Thank you.” Ben only grunts, and you tug at his hand. “If you put down your shield we can go look at the bedroom.”

The shield has barely crashed to the ground when Ben is picking you up, getting a steady grip under your legs as he makes beeline for the stairs. He climbs them two at a time—your nails digging into his shoulder less for grip and just because you can—and kicks the door at the end of the strip open.

You’ll look around the bedroom later. Right now it’s all Ben, kissing you before he’s sat on the bed with an already open mouth, running his tongue over the roof of your mouth. Releasing your legs so you can use them to drag your body closer to his, using his now free hand to drop around your hips and rub the skin of your thigh. Releasing you for only a second to pull your jacket off to touch your bare arms and drop a hand under your shirt—his shirt—to rub your back. But not higher, or lower. Right where you’ve asked him to stay.

It gets harder to keep him there every time. When he’s groaning and growling into you and taking every single moan and whine you give him like he’s starving. When you can feel that he is starving. You can feel the hunger growing larger after every moment like this one, feel the rough and consuming thing that’s devout and savage push closer to the surface. It’s harder to pretend it’s not everything when it is, when you can feel every part of him against and around you. To pretend you don’t also want him inside you, making your head empty and the world just Ben. It’s harder to remind yourself that you can’t give all the way in, because fuck it would be so easy. Easier than pretending you’ll be fine like this. Easy to worship him and make him burn and burn with him.

After what might have been only a second or a whole decade, Ben leaves you for breath, dragging you up the bed with him to rest at the headboard. He seats you between his legs, your face against his neck, and just holds you. For another year—or what feels like one—Ben just holds you as you drift in and out of the rest of the world. Eventually you tilt your head up to look at him, and he’s staring at you, mouth slightly parted and inches from yours.

“What time is it?” You ask quietly, some part of you afraid that you’ll speak too loudly and wake up from this dream.

Ben’s voice is steadier than yours, but still low. “Noon.”

You press your face back into his collarbone. “We should probably do something.”

“Like hell we should,” Ben mutters. “I think we’ve earned one goddamn day not doing everyone’s jobs for them.”

“But-“

“One day, Sunshine. You can panic and plan all you want tomorrow, but today you’re not doing jack fucking shit.” He glares down at you, and you’re melting into him. Into the sturdiness of him, into the smell of him, into the feeling of his determination on your shoulders. “You can do whatever the hell you want, as long as it’s pointless.”

You glance nervously around the bedroom. Just like the rest of the apartment, it’s nice, but in a bland catalog way. The sheets are gray and cotton, the walls are eggshell white, and there’s a very sad plastic plant in the corner of the room. “What about a list for Mallory?”

Ben narrows his eyes at you. “A list for what?”

“Our apartment. Things we need or want.”

He tenses, and for a second you think he’s going to throw you off his body and run. That the word our made him catch a hint of your need for him, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. The only thing that keeps apologies and backtracking rationalization from falling out of your mouth is the content in him growing. Merging with the hunger.

“Fine,” he grunts. “But you stay in bed.”

You nod, craning your neck away from him. “Where’d you put my jacket?”

“Probably on the floor.” His grip on your tightens. “Why.”

“It has my phone in it.” You start to stand, but Ben keeps you against his chest. Kissing you one last, quick time before relaxing. He doesn’t fully let you go until you’re out of his reach, and watches you intently until you’ve grabbed your jack and returned to his side.

You empty the contents of your pockets—Ben hand resting easily on your hip as he watches silently—which ends up being the blue sunglasses, your phone, and a tube of lip gloss that had appeared out of thin air. You set the sunglasses carefully off to the side, leave the lip gloss thoughtlessly on the mattress, and pick up your phone to set to work.

You kill six hours like this. Leaning against Ben, who silently watches and holds you the whole time, and typing up a list for Mallory. You start simple, obvious. Basic groceries, with extra strawberry cream cheese and malt vanilla ice cream. A few durable cookbooks. Shampoo and conditioner, whatever’s cheap for you and a very specific brand you go out of your way to look up for Ben. Lots of toilet paper, a spare fire extinguisher, and a coffee machine. Maybe a laptop. You like sitting like this—In bed with Ben all around you and both of your bodies relaxed and spread out—but you also like watching TV. And you just saved the president, if you speak in very broad and hypothetical terms. You think you’ve earned a laptop. Then you start to have fun with it. With asking Ben stupid questions about colors that he entertains with one word answers—you don’t bother to ask about green or blue because you already know the answers will a yes and no respectively—and trying to find decorations get any sort of reaction other than a bored grunt. So far you’ve only garnered reactions of disgust, curtsey of a Deep life size cardboard cutout, a truly horrible leopard print bed set, and limited edition Soldier Boy set of china with his smiling face printed on every plate and cup.

“If you buy those, I’ll smash them.” He growls against your ear, and you look back at him with amusement.

“I’d have thought things with your face on them would’ve earned a resounding yes from you, Pretty Boy.”

“You get my face for free every fucking day,” he snaps. “Vought can suck my dick, turning a profit after they fucking stabbed me in the back.”

You pout at him, “but they’re collectibles.”

Ben snorts. “If you just want to eat off my damn face, all you have to do is ask.”

You slap his arm against you, attention returning to your phone. After several more attempts that prove fruitless, Ben squeezes your thigh.

“That,” he grunts, pointing at the screen. “Get that.”

It’s a carpet, dark green and fluffy. It’s so simple, such a common thing to see in any house that Ben’s concrete focus on it throws you.

“The carpet?” You clarify, and he nods with a low sound of affirmation. “Okay.”

His eyes shoot to you from where he’d been staring at the carpet. “If you don’t want it, just fucking say that-“

“No, I want it,” you stop him quickly. “If we want to give a shit about aesthetics I’ll have to change a few things, but that doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I’ll fucking live if you hate it-“

“Ben, this is the first thing you haven’t been either apathetic about or actively hated. I’ll live if I have to change the color of a pillow or some shit.”

He pauses, then gives a rough nod. “Fine.”

You give him a small smile. “Fine.”

When 6:45 hits, it takes a lot of work to get Ben to please just come to dinner. What eventually gets him is telling him that you’re going, with or without his ass, and he can either sulk like a child about it or just fucking go with you. Then, even as he glares at you, Ben hauls himself out of bed and follows you out of the bedroom. At some point the agents had dropped off the bins, along with Annie’s Nightmare Makeup collection and the same toiletries from the safe house. Half-empty bottles of shampoo, your body wash, and Ben’s stiff toothbrush. If you had more time you’d start sorting through the bins—you have very little faith in Ben’s ability to have properly organized them—but dinner. And you’ll have time later. Lots of time, here, with Ben, to throw clothing at his stupid handsome face and yell at him about pointless things. All the time in the world.

It takes a while to find the dining hall. There’s not a map of the floor or building, or a large neon sign pointing in the right direction. Ben drags you around for about eight minutes of attempts to just figure it out our fucking selves, and you’re a second away from caving and texting Kimiko when Ben stop abruptly and you slam into his back.

“What the hell-“

“Found it,” he grins down at you, gesturing to a door with a plaque by the side that reads Dining Hall. “I fucking told you I could.”

“Yeah, we’re only,” you glance at the time on your phone. “Ten minutes? Fuck, Ben,” he doesn’t budge as you slap his chest with a glare. “We’re late. Butcher said not to be late-“

“Butcher can suck my fucking dick until I get off,” Ben mutters, pulling you forward by your hand. “If the pussies were so fucking worried about us being late they should’ve done something about it.”

You’re going to protest, but Ben pushes the door open roughly to reveal a room that qualifies less as a dining hall and more as a middle school cafeteria. Tile floors and basic kitchen appliances, an unattended food service area, and low tables with benches. The only people in the room aside from you and Ben are grouped around one of those tables in a deep conversation. You can see almost everyone. Butcher is standing at the head of the table, and doesn’t look up or acknowledge you as you enter. Annie and Hughie are sitting on one bench with their backs to you, and Kimiko and Frenchie across from them as they all poke at plates of varying food in front of them. You walk across the room slowly, Ben trailing behind you, and when Kimiko sees you she smiles and gives you a wave.

Did you see the rooms? She signs with a grin. They’re huge!

You laugh, and pull your hand from Ben’s hold. Does yours have stairs as well?

And a rain shower! She nods. We should’ve moved here months ago.

Before you can respond, we moved echoing in your head, Butcher’s voice cuts through the air. “Glad you could be fucked to join us, Love.” 

“You didn’t tell us where to go, you ass,” you mutter. “We had to find it.”

“Sure you weren’t just too busy fucking-“

“Can we not do this over dinner, Butcher?” Annie sighs. “It’s late, and it’s been a long week. I just want to do the briefing and go to bed.”

Butcher scoffs, and glares at you. “Sit the bloody hell down so we can get this over with.”

You flip him off, and round the table to sit beside Kimiko. Ben follows, dropping with a grunt beside you and placing a hand on your thigh, and you glance around the table.

“Where’s MM?”

“Getting dinner,” Hughie points to the empty food service bars. “You have to go all the way back into the kitchen, everything won’t be fully operational for a while.”

“So we’re all living here?” You ask with a frown. “Everyone gets their own apartments?”

“Well, me and Annie are together,” Hughie looks nervously at Ben, silent and stiff at your side. “Like, uh, you guys. Butcher and MM each have their own, and Kimiko and Frenchie have a two bedroom.”

“How did the FBSA even get the budget for this?” Annie wonders. “What could they possibly plan on doing with it after?”

MM appears behind Butcher, a tray in his hand. Not looking at you. “It’s going to be for supes who want to jump off the Vought ship.”

Hughie nods. “I sat in on the pitch when it happened. The idea is that maybe if we protect them, house them, we could contract the less, uh, violent supes. For better stuff.”

“Better stuff,” Butcher snorts. “Ain’t no supes doing better stuff.”

Ben’s hand tightens against you, and you feel your own body tense. At your side, Kimiko glowers at Butcher, and across from you Hughie pulls Annie a little tighter against him.

“Butcher,” MM says with a glare, dropping at Annie’s side. “Read the fucking room, asshole.”

“It can’t believe I let go this fuckin far,” Butcher mutters, surveying the team with a scowl. “Bloody one to one ratio.”

“Yeah,” Annie rolls her eyes. “Because going up against Vought with just four random guys was going really well for you at the beginning.”

“At least I didn’t have to put up with a bunch of whining, overpowered cunts-“

“Butcher,” MM snaps. “Can we just get this shit over with without anyone shooting or punching anyone else?”

“Whatever, but Starlight fucking started it-“

“No I didn’t you dick-“

Butcher raises his voice over Annie. “We’re waitin on Stan Edgar to come through, and until then we’re on lockdown. No quick trips to a bodega, no walks around the block, no nothin. Vought’s on high alert, the governments on high alert, you two twats-“ He points at you and Ben. “Got your faces all over the news. There’s a damn man-hunt, hashtags about freeing Homelander’s girl from Soldier Boy and avenging VP Neuman.”

“Avenging?” Frenchie asks with a frown. “Madame Neuman is alive, no?”

“Not to the public,” MM shrugs. “Easiest spin, fastest way out, was to make it seem like Bonnie and Clyde nuked her. Fits in with the whole terrorist narrative.”

“So why do we all have to be on lockdown,” Annie crossed her arms. “If it’s just them taking the fall?”

“Because Homelander’s about to go on a bloody rampage,” Butcher drawled, and everything becomes cold inside you. “He just lost a major ally, missed the Anomaly and Soldier Boy by a hair, and is feeling the pressure. So until Stan Edgar comes through, Mallory’s benched us.”

“What do we do if he finds us?” You ask softly, blood pounding in your ears, fire scratching at your skin. “If someone tells him where we are?”

“Nobody knows except us, Mallory, and some agents Mallory handpicked.” MM says firmly, still not fully looking at you. “This place is designed to protect people from him. We’ll be fine.”

“And we’re just supposed to sit around on our fucking asses until Edgar makes good?” Ben glares around the table. “Jacking each other off and pretending everything’s just dandy?”

“I’m not happy about it either, Gov.” Butcher sneers. “I’d like nothing more than to fucking rip Vought a new one while they’re in crisis. But unless you’re willing to go nuclear and flag Homelander down for a bloody one on one, we’re waiting.”

You can hear Ben’s jaw grind, and his grip on you is like iron. Hot and violent anger is flooding through him, and his voice is cold. “Fucking watch it.”

“You fucking watch it, Soldier Boy,” MM hisses. “We’re all stuck here because of the deal you made. Don’t act like you’re some sort of victim or hostage. You can leave whenever you fucking want, and we won’t stop you.”

Ben stands suddenly, and Hughie flinches backwards across the table. Annie catches him from falling, and MM doesn’t even twitch.

“I’m not fucking going anywhere,” Ben hisses. “And that deal is the only thing that will help you with Homelander. So fucking watch it.”

MM doesn’t back down, holding Ben’s glare, and you grab Ben’s arm. Holding him at your side. “Is that it, Butcher?” You ask, leaning slightly over to meet Butcher’s cold gaze. “We’re waiting for Edgar, no leaving?”

“Yep,” Butcher drawls. “Now call your dog off.”

You ignore him, tugging at Ben’s arm slightly so he looks down at you. Can we just go?

Ben examines your face—his anger not fading, but becoming wrapped in the stone resolve—and nods. Whatever.

You address no one in particular. “Is there anything we have to do while we wait?”

“I was thinking we could do dinners together,” Hughie mumbles, voice a little unsteady as he looks between Ben’s braced stance and MM’s expression of twisted anger. “But, uh, that seems like a bad idea now.”

“No, it’s good. Team building,” you stand slowly. “Good idea. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

You start to drag Ben away from the table, away from the violent tension building in the air.

“I am not doing fucking team building with those pussies.” Ben mutters in your ear as you walk back down the hall.

“It’s just dinner, Ben.” You sigh. “You’ll only have to sit, brood, and not kill anyone.”

He grunts, but drops it, moving his hand into yours. He’s silent as you return to the apartment, dragging you up to the bedroom before you can start to unpack.

“We’re not going fucking anywhere for a while.” He snaps when you start to protest. “You can unpack in the morning.”

And he’s right. That’s what makes it so easy to leave the bins downstairs and just go to bed. You aren’t going anywhere for a while. You’re going to be here, with Ben and his stupid fluffy rug you’re going to ensure Mallory buys. You’ll spend the days with Ben the same way it’s grown to be, easy and simple and good. He’ll hold you at night, make sure the nightmares don’t come, and keep touching you. He won’t leave. You won’t leave. And the bins will be there in the morning.

The days blur together. Unpacking only takes one morning, and things from the list start to appear in the hall outside your door. In only three days, you have almost everything, and the apartment feels like yours. Yours and Ben’s.

The time is filled without thought. Training your fire and singing, holding Ben’s head in your hands as he grumbles about not needing this—though he’s stopping saying he never fucking had shell shock in the first place—and teaching him everything about the internet. By the end of the week he sort of understands social media but thinks it’s fucking stupid, and can passably navigate a browser by himself. You don’t stop trying to get him to play Candy Crush, but every time you try and grab his phone Ben shoves it in his pants, giving you a glare that says I fucking dare you, Sunshine.

You always flip him off, because you won’t cross that line. You’ll touch him everywhere he lets you, but not there. Not unless you want to explode. The more days pass, the more Ben touches you everywhere but there, the more that becomes certain. If you let him do more than kiss you, more than have you grind on him in silent desperation as he grew hard against you, both of you never finding relief together, you’d turn into a beacon of fire and undying desire. You’d never recover. So you don’t cross the line, and try to pretend you can’t feel his own strain for you whenever you’re touching him. Because it’s not the same as yours. Maybe more than lust, you can admit, but not the same.

You’re getting stronger. Ben is still pushing you, albeit with more underhanded, horny tactics that leave you aching when he pulls away with a mocking grin, but it works. Because you’re stronger. You still can’t fully control the illusions, but they’re never hazy anymore. And you can make things happen. If it’s a sad song you can’t stop the rain, but you can make it blend with sunlight until a rainbow mist fills the room. A bubblegum pop song will still be over-saturated and feverish, but you can choose to add something more concrete than just a strobing flash of lights. Moon River still opens the sky and brings in cooling wind, but the room is covered in blooming strawberry flowers. And your fire is powerful. Becoming less like an uncontrollable parasite and more like a muscle. A phantom limb you can move in time with the rest of your body. It’s no longer a part of you that you wish you could remove. It sits under your skin, humming softly, and only comes out when you tell it to.

Dinners are weird. Every night everyone slowly gathers in the dining hall, exchanging small talk and discussing everything except the looming threat of Homelander and Vought and the possibility that Edgar could fail. Ben silently sticks to your side and rarely engages in conversation, but nobody makes any attempts to make him do more than that. It’s the only time you see MM and Butcher, but some afternoons you’ll watch TV with Kimiko while Ben sulks upstairs. Then Ben calls Hughie his name instead of Cocksucker during dinner, and the whole table falls silent. Staring at him with wide eyes and frozen faces.

“What the fuck are you pussies looking at?” He grumbled, poking at the broccoli you’d dumped onto his plate.

Annie blinks a few times before speaking. “You just-“

“Nothing!” Hughie yelps, and you have a feeling he doesn’t want to call attention to it and cause Ben to backtrack.

“It’s clearly fucking something-“

You cut him off with a swift kick to the shin, shooting him a look of I’ll tell you later. Just let it go.

No, they’re being fucking weird. He scowls, and you roll your eyes.

If you don’t drop it, you’ll be sleeping on the couch.

You’re bluffing, because if Ben sleeps on the couch you’ll wake up screaming and alone, but you sell your glare well enough that Ben scoffs. This is fucking blackmail. And doesn’t say anything else.

After that, Annie and Hughie will text you to eat lunch. Then Annie stops looking at Ben judgmentally after another week, because she stops by to collect you and Ben answers the door before you can.

“I’m not here for you,” she snaps, and Ben glares at her, but steps aside. Revealing you, in shorts and one of Ben’s shirts. You’ve started to develop a habit of just taking them, and if Ben’s noticed he hasn’t stopped you. You think he might have started to leave them out on purpose, because every time you wear one he coughs and walks very quickly into the bathroom.

“Sorry.” You’re shuffling around the room, turning over pillows and crouching down to look under furniture. “I lost my phone-“

“It’s upstairs,” Ben grunts. “It died. I plugged it in.”

You nod, and start to move to the stairs, but Ben’s legs are longer and he gets there first. Stomping up to your room without a word, and returning with your phone. When you and Annie leave—Ben grumbling a goodbye and kissing the top of your head—Annie coughs as you walk down the hall.

“Um,” you look at Annie, who’s watching you carefully. “You two seem comfortable.”

“We are,” you say softly, and Annie nods.

“And you’re really not fucking?”

“Despite Butcher’s constant bitching, no.”

“Why?”

That makes you gape at her. “Annie?”

“You’re wearing his shirt,” she says your name slowly. “He seems like maybe 10% less of a violent ass. It’s not my business, but, I don’t know. He called Hughie his name. I’d have been comfortable betting you two were fucking like a month ago. Now it feels insane that you aren’t.”

“It’s complicated,” you sigh. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

She nods, and drops it. That night, she still doesn’t talk to Ben, but also passes him salt when he asks you for it. Two days later, she brings Hughie with her to your apartment, and suggests you eat there instead.

“Is that okay, Ben-“

“I don’t give a shit,” he grumbles. “It’s your fucking apartment as well. Do what you want.” 

“Will you eat with us?”

Ben looks between Annie and Hughie, still in the doorway. “Fine.”

It’s a slightly awkward meal, Ben sitting next to you, only answering questions with one worded snaps. But nobody explodes, or makes cruel comments, so you count it as a victory.

They still don’t let you touch them, but Ben touches you more than enough to make up for it. Butcher is still crude, making snide comments about you and Ben, but it’s been almost two weeks of this and he hasn’t mentioned your outburst. His remarks remain in the realm of mocking and vulgar, but there’s no mention of you being compromised, or Homelander. MM still won’t fully meet your eyes, and you don’t blame him. You try not to think about it, but something small keeps gnawing at you. It grows quiet when Ben holds you, because he does it so carefully and gently. And you tell yourself that this Ben isn’t that Ben. That was Soldier Boy. Ben won’t even let you say Soldier Boy anymore.

Would he still do that? The small thing asks, and you don’t really have an answer. In December you would’ve said yes. In December you would’ve pictured the callous, sadistic man you threw a knife at and not hesitated to say yes. Now you picture him smiling at you, calming you after a nightmare, holding you tightly when the cracks Homelander left on you start to open. And that Ben wouldn’t. Your Ben wouldn’t. And what scares you more than the certain faith in that statement is the your part. How smoothly your brain calls him your Ben. Like he’s as much of a part of you as the fire has become. How even when you try to double back and correct yourself, reminding you he’s not your anything, every part of you just goes no. Your Ben.

That’s a thought that will have to wait a while to fight. Until after this is over. Hopefully you can keep pushing it down until this is over.

It’s something that starts to creep over everyone. That if Edgar comes through, if everything somehow falls into place, this could be over. By the end of March, this could be over. Flowers could start to bloom and the sun could start to herald spring in a world without Homelander. This could all be over.

“I miss my drugs,” Frenchie grumbles over dinner. “When we finally are allowed outside, I am getting all my drugs back from Madame Mallory and having a very good day.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, but gives you a look of I’ve been missing drugs from fucking months. Don’t see me whining about it.

You literally do nothing but whine about it, Benjamin. You wrinkle your nose at him. After one week in the safe house you’d started asking me for drugs every day. We weren’t even friends.

He rolls his eyes, and tugs you a little closer into his side. We’re friends now. Can I have drugs.

No. You elbow him, and your attention returns to the group.

“I think I’m going to eat a whole donut shop,” Annie is saying. “I miss donut shops.”

“I’ll second that,” Hughie nods. “And I’m never wearing a hoodie again. Or a baseball cap. Or anything that covers my face.”

Frenchie nods. “Oui. No more covering up. I’m going to streak in the park.”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“We ain’t out of the woods yet, cunts.” Butcher snaps over Hughie. “I wouldn’t start celebrating and bloody daydreaming before Edgar even comes through.”

“It’s good for morale, Butcher.” Annie shrugs. “Gives us something to look forward to.” Butcher grunts, and Annie looks at you. “What about you? Will you go back to Boston?”

You pause, because you don’t know. You don’t have anything, really, in Boston. Or New York. Even if Mallory gets you declared alive, you’ll have to spend a lot of job interviews explaining the three year gap in your resume. Your old friends might not be able to talk to you without pity or morbid fascination. You could go with Ben. A very large, hard to ignore part of you really wants to go with Ben. But you haven’t told anyone about that offer, and now doesn’t feel like a great time to breach the topic. Not when you haven’t even decided yourself.

Ben speaks before you can answer Annie. “Is your sister in Boston?”

“What?” You blink at him.

“Your sister.” He repeats through a mouthful of food. “She in New York, or Boston?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t really matter-“

Ben shoots you a glare, you said you’d stop saying things don’t fucking matter, Sunshine. and says aloud, “you need to talk to her.”

“No, I don’t.” You snap. “I’m not bringing her into this. Fucking drop it, Benjamin.”

“You said you’d think about it-“

“And I did, and I won’t. So drop it.” You turn back to the table, which has fallen into nervous silence. The conversation picks back up slowly, and Ben is filled with that sour tight feeling against you. You tap his leg lightly and he looks at you with a frown.

What.

Are you mad? You blink at him, and he rolls his eyes.

Don’t be fucking stupid. His face relaxes a little. You can’t start to rely just on your looks, beautiful.

You smile lightly at him. Worked for you.

Ben snorts into a cough. Brat.

Cunt, you’re grinning fully now, and when you glance at MM he’s watching you with a frown.

That night there’s a knock on your door while Ben is in the shower, and you gape in surprise when you open it to see MM on the other side.

“Soldier Boy was right,” he grunts, and you stare at him.

“What?”

“You need to talk to your sister.”

You sigh. “MM, it’s really complicated-“

“No,” he snaps. “It’s not. Rocket science is complicated. This is real simple. That motherfucker isn’t right about almost anything, but he’s right about this. You need to tell your sister you’re alive.”

“Please don’t-“

“A second chance at shit like this is real rare,” MM says your name firmly. “I’d kill for it. Butcher would kill for it. Almost all of us would do real dark things to get another shot at family. Don’t waste yours, not when it’s being offered.”

“What if she gets hurt?” You whisper. “What if I bring her into this and it gets her killed.”

“Well, considering she was still calling the Starlight Fund every day before the number went out of service, I’d bet that’s still a fucking danger right now.” MM shrugs. “At least now she wouldn’t be in the dark.”

“She kept calling?” you feel the blood drain from your body, your skin starts to itch. There’s no smoke, and the fire is secure inside you, but you’re still staring with a tight face at MM. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t think you’d listen to me.” He mutters. “But for some fucking reason you might listen to him.” MM jerks his head up to the loft strip. “I’ll text you her number, it’s still in my phone.” 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

MM nods tightly, and starts to leave. You almost reach out to stop him but jerk back at the last second. You can’t touch him. The movement still catches his eye, though, because he turns back around. “What?”

“I’m,” you take a deep breath. “MM, I’m really, really sorry about-“

“You don’t owe me shit.” He stops you with a raised hand. “But remember that you don’t owe him shit either.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

MM sighs, looking you up and down. “Just, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

The words echo around in your head as MM walks away.

You know what you’re doing. Butcher said you don’t, MM says he hopes you do. You do. You’re walking upstairs, and you know why. To wait for Ben.

Your phone buzzes only a minute later, and you stare at the number MM texted you. Violet’s one tap of a screen away. Right there, just a centimeter from your thumb, is the ability to hear your sister’s voice for the first time in years.

The shower turns off, and Ben enters the bedroom in only sweatpants. On almost any other night you’d be fully distracted by it, his bare chest and damp hair and the smell of his drifting around in the air, but you’re still staring at the phone.

He notices. “What’s wrong with you.”

You watch him as he drops on the bed. “I need your help.”

“With what.” Ben’s whole body grows rigid, his hands fisting as his eyes start to dart across you, around the room. “Who the fuck-“

“I’m fine,” you reach out to place a hand on his knee, and the consuming paranoia in his body hits you in the chest. You make your words a little more firm. “I’m really fine. I,” you take a heavy breath. “MM gave me my sister’s number. I’m going to call her.”

“Oh,” Ben relaxes slightly, but is still frowning at you. “The fuck do you need me for.”

You shrug. “Emotional support?”

“Emotional support?”

“Like if I need to hit someone. Or cry.”

“Oh,” he nods, looking you up and down. “Fine. Go.”

“Now?” You chew at your tongue, head shaking slightly. “I can do it tomorrow, it’s late, she might not even pick up-“

“Now,” Ben scoots a little closer to you, holding your eyes with his. “Or I’m not doing that support shit.”

The world starts to spin, and it must show on your face because Ben’s hand covers where yours still rests on his body. He’s silent, warm and real against you, and everything feels sharper. You take another large, long breath and Ben nods slightly, looking down at the phone number displayed in blue light on your phone. Waiting for you.

Your thumb presses it, and the ringing echoes through your room. The only thing that keeps air moving in and out of your body is Ben. Still touching you, making the tight anxiety around your throat loosen just enough to keep breathing.

The ringing stops suddenly, and a static hum fills the room for a second before a voice replaces it.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounds the same. It’s a little deeper, and a little more tired than you’d heard it before, but she still breathes the heh in hello. There’s still the slight hint of a Boston accent in her tone—because she’s the only one of you and your siblings who got that trait from your father—sitting in an odd combination with the slight southern lilt she’d given herself from watching old cowboy movies.

“Violet?” You breathe out, because that’s all you can manage.

“Who is this?”

You swallow, glancing at Ben as you say your name. He’s watching you, completely still save for his thumb, rubbing a circle on your hand. The line is silent for just long enough to think the line dropped.

“That’s not funny,” Violet finally hisses. “I don’t know who this is, but screw you. I don’t know what the hell your problem is, or why you’re doing this, but screw you.”

“No!” You yell, voice high and panicked. If she hangs up, you’ll lose her. She won’t pick up a call from your number. You can’t lose her again. “It’s me! I swear, Violet, it’s me. I’m alive. You were right, I’m alive.”

“This is just cruel-“

“Please, please just-“ You scramble for some sort of proof, something that will convince her. “You were five. You were five and I was thirteen, and we were at one of Mom’s parties. I sang Tommy Dorsey, and my dress gave me a rash. You did a ballet routine, and Mom made you wear a tutu, and you gave it to the senator’s dog to eat the next day.”

The line is silent again, and you’re staring at Ben with wide fearful eyes. What if that didn’t work?

He shakes his head. It fucking will.

He’s right. Violet breathes your name through the phone. “If this is you,” her voice is cautious, but still there. Still on the line. “What was the last thing you said to me? Before you disappeared.”

“We were on the phone,” you say frantically. “I told you that if I got my PhD tomorrow I’d break you out of mom’s house, drive you to the Cape, and we’d spend a week getting drunk on the Cape. You told me you were sixteen, and I said I’d pavlov you into thinking you were drunk. Then I said it probably wouldn’t happen anyways, because I’d only been working on my PhD for three years and normally it takes at least six, and you told me being normal never stopped me before.” You take a strangled breath, and wait.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “Where the shit have you been? What happened? You just completely vanished,” she says your name, voice growing louder and louder. “You disappeared off the face of the earth for like two years and then you’re all over the news with a different last name and you’re Homelander’s girlfriend. People are saying Soldier Boy mighta kidnapped you and nobody will give me a single straight answer-“

“It’s complicated,” you say, feeling Ben’s tense. “Where are you?”

“In New York, I’ve been crashing with a friend. What the shit is going on?“

“I can’t say much over the phone. If you text the address to this number, I can send someone to get you. I might take a few days-“

Violet shouts your name, crackling over the speaker. “Someone to get me?! Where are you?”

“I can’t say that either.”

“Well, what can you say?”

Ben snorts, and you glare at him. “It’s-“

“Is someone else there?” Violet interrupts you. “Who else is there? Are you in danger? What’s going on-“

“I’m safe,” you don’t hesitate to say it, even as you scowl at Ben. “I’m fine. Violet-“

“Who was that, then?”

“Ben,” your words are half answer, half a hiss at the man himself. Because Ben is grinning at you and being very distracting as he starts to move closer.

You wanted me here, he winks, and you hit him.

“Who the hell is Ben.”

“Uh, Soldier Boy.”

“Soldier Boy?!” You wince at the volume, and Ben laughs again. “What do you mean Soldier Boy?! He’s there?! Right now?!”

You take Violet off speaker, even though you know Ben will still be able to hear her. It’s about the principle. “I really can’t explain over the phone. Soldier Boy didn’t kidnap me, I’m safe, and I can send someone to get you. Please.”

“Fine, but I want answers.”

“And I’ll give them to you. In person.”

“Good.” There’s a beat of silence, and Violet says your name softly. “I’m real happy you’re alive.”

“Yeah, I am as well.” You smile softly, because that’s the truth. “Thank you for not hanging up.”

“Is Soldier Boy really even hotter in pers-“

“I’ll see you soon,” you say loudly, because Ben definitely heard that. He’s smirking at you, and you can feel his smugness through where his leg is now pressed against yours. “Text me the address. I love you.”

You can hear Violet huff. “I love you too. Killjoy.”

The line drops, and Ben leans forward.

“Well? Am I hotter in person?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Fucking rude,” Ben drawls your name. “After all I did to help you.”

You scoff. “You just sat there, Pretty Boy. I did all the talking.”

He shrugs. “And you did a damn good job. I’m proud of you.”

The thing you’ve shoved deep, deep into you, the bigger thing you keep trying to ignore, flashes bright and hot through your body. “Thank you,” you whisper, and Ben grunts. “Do you, would you be okay if she came here?”

“Of course I would be.” Ge frowns. “I’m not going to get on your ass about this and pussy out when you finally fucking do it.”

“Would you stay here? Or go wherever we have to go to meet her?”

Ben pulls you fully against him, kissing the space between your eyes. “I’ll go wherever the hell you want me to, beautiful.”

It’s so difficult to just gently pull his mouth down to yours in thanks, and not climb on top of him and let him bring you the one place you need him to go. Into you, and against you, and with you forever.

But you manage to keep your senses, and smile against his lips. “Even Florida?”

“Don’t fucking push it,” he mutters, and you laugh. He lowers you onto the bed, keeping you tight between his body and the mattress, and you’ve never felt so calm and safe. Every time he does this, it somehow gets better. Every time he chuckles and it echoes through you, every time you can feel the hunger—now indistinguishable from the affection and what you’re afraid to call devotion—and every time his beard scrapes against your skin, rough and real, it gets better.

Butcher had been right. Ben isn’t a white knight. But you didn’t need a white knight. You didn’t want a white knight. A white knight would just put you in another, more golden cage. Would try and make you smile like you hadn’t been locked in a tower with a dragon. A white knight would try and save you, make you better. Ben didn’t need you to be better. Ben just made you better, in his own fucked up little way. You smile because he’s there, not because he told you. You scream and he screams with you. You need him and he doesn’t leave because it’s inconvenient. You burn and he burns with you. And he would never put you in a cage. He’d—if you were lucky—keep holding you like this and making everything better.

And that was just another thing that made the thing you’ve pushed away rise to the surface. Closer and closer to breaking out. Flooding everything. 

Ben made things better.

————

She was a live wire. Scrambling around Ben, waking him up in the middle of the night to ask him how she was supposed to face her sister after everything. She’d given Mallory the address the same night of the call at Ben’s insistence—Waiting until morning was fucking insane—and hadn’t stopped tapping Her hands or climbing up the walls since. It was making Ben wired. He could almost feel Her fucking anxiety, and he wasn’t even that annoyed by it. He was more pissed at the FBSI, because why the fuck couldn’t they just go faster? After all She’d done for them, asking for too fucking little in return, they could at least pretend to give a shit about her. Mallory had told them two days, and if forty eight hours passed by even a single extra second, Ben was using the gun he’d stashed under their bed to break out and go get Her sister. Anything to make Her stop asking stupid damn questions and looking so nervous.

“What if she doesn’t like me anymore?” She asked him as he entered the bedroom, foot tapping as she sat crossed-legged on the bed. “What if I tell her everything and she doesn’t understand?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever said,” Ben crossed the room, saying Her name. “You’re too fucking smart to be saying something to damn stupid.”

“But-“

Ben leaned down and kissed Her, holding her perfect face gently with his hands. It was an easy, effective, mutually beneficial way to shut Her up when she started to go into overdrive, when Ben could hear the gears of her brain start to grind and still not manage to move faster than her impressively quick mouth. She always let him, too, because Ben had worked out when She was mad at him for something fucking stupid—like when he’d kept carrying Her around and she’d yelled about treating her like a fucking doll—and when She was mad at Her.

The former She was always, annoyingly, fucking right. Ben had been treating Her like she was delicate, when she might be the least delicate person he’d ever met. But he’d wanted to help her. Give her one fucking thing that she didn’t have to do for herself. And it was so easy to carry Her, because Ben was doing something for her and he got to touch her. Hold her against him. He hadn’t told Her that, because he wasn’t an emotional pussy, but he’d settled for asking before he picked her up and letting her rant at him about modern media and how to navigate the internet. It always made Her look alive as she’d spiral adorably into the most off-topic, complicated rant about something Ben had never heard of and didn’t need to know. But that was something he was doing for Her, and she’d smile at him the whole time. So he let her.

The latter, She was always wrong. When she was mad at Herself it was always over some sort of stupid shit that she seemed to know was stupid, because she’d let Ben swallow her words and make a small sound when he pulled back.

“She’ll understand,” Ben grunted, still holding Her face. “And you’re impossible not to like, it’s one of the worst damn things about you.”

A smile tugged Her lips, but she still looked so fucking sad. “I hurt people. I killed people-“

“They all fucking had it coming. And I would rather you kill a million people and get back to me than keep your hands clean and I never see you again. I’m sure your goddamn sister would feel the same.”

“Yeah,” She’d finally relaxed a little, leaning forward as she held Ben’s wrists. Heart beating a little faster, but not in panic. “But that’s because you’re insane, Benjamin.”

“You like it.”

She laughed—full and light and the best sound Ben had heard in his life—and leaned up to kiss him again. Ben crawled over Her, pushing her further into the mattress with his mouth and hands, and practicing fucking astronomical amounts of control to keep it that way. To not fuck Her stupid until the bed broke, to not worship her until she proved his theory that the only sound better than her laugh in the whole world was his name, moaned from Her lips as she came.

The Thing was quiet lately. Such a normal part of everything, so deeply ingrained into Ben that at this point he’d accepted it wasn’t going away. As long as She was alive, somewhere in the world with her heart beating, the Thing would sit in Ben and try to keep her safe. If She left him he’d still let her, because he’d always let her. But the Thing would never stop clawing at him to get back to Her. And Ben was going to have to find a way to live with that.

He’d started to take photos of Her wherever he could get them and not be caught. He was fucking good at it now too, and he wanted to show Her. But she’d ask questions about it, and he’d be exposing the Thing to the air, so he didn’t. But he’d filled up his whole camera with Her. He’d filled up his fucking life with her. Stupid songs were more beautiful because She liked them. Food tasted better because She’d given it to him. Movies Ben would’ve hated even a year ago were better because She’d mouth the lines and tell Ben pointless facts about the production. Mamma Mia wasn’t annoying because she knew all the awful songs by heart, and Kung Fu Panda 2 was, in fact, the best movie ever made because she said so. She’d explained shit about art and allegories and doomed narratives the whole way through, and even though Ben didn’t remember a single thing she’d said he’d never forgot the way she’d smiled. Looking between him and the screen with frightening intent, her words too big and her tone too fucking serious with such a wide grin on her perfect face. Even the stupid off-brand Soldier Boy sunglasses she wouldn’t just throw in the fucking trash made blue a not completely dogshit color. Because She wore them.

And as Ben stood with Her in the elevator the next morning—watching Her taps and gnaw into herself—she was so fucking perfect it might be killing him. She had barely slept—rolling around above Ben until he’d locked his arms around her and kissed Her until she was tired—and it had given her bags under her eyes and a manic look across her face. Her hair was messy and she was wearing his shirt again and she smelled like flowers. Ben had never seen something so fucking beautiful in his goddamn life. That was true every single time he saw her. She managed to outdo herself every fucking time.

He wrapped an arm around Her, and the Thing hummed softly in Ben as she stilled quickly and leaned into him. Her hand shot up to hold his, and her whole body relaxed when he kissed the top of her head. Ben held Her steady as she took a sharp inhale at the elevator’s ding, and her nails dug into his hand as the doors opened.

The similarities between Her and the woman that steps into the hall are immediate. The woman is a little shorter, and She has slightly sharper features, but their noses are almost identical, and their hair has the exact same texture and color. The woman walked the same way too, long and careful steps off the elevator. Staring at Her.

The woman said Her name softly, and her voice was a little higher than it had been over the phone. But Ben liked the name the woman says Her name. Long, clear, and with the care that should be used to say it.

“Violet.” She breathed, taking an unsteady step forward.

They just stared at each other for another second, and it occurred to Ben somewhere from the back of his brain that She might not touch her sister. That it might have been ingrained into Her not to touch people so deeply that she wouldn’t touch anyone but Ben. He was about to tell to just damn do it because if Ben wasn’t able to touch her for a fucking week—let alone three whole years—he’d lose his mind, but before he could She made a choking sob, ran at the woman—Violet—and pulled her into a hug.

They both just stood there, Violet started crying too after barely a second, and Ben started to feel like he should maybe go. She could handle this—She could handle anything—and maybe she’d want a moment alone with her sister. Ben would rather shoot himself than interrupt this, so he was going to just back away and text Her that he’d be in their room.

Ben took a single step back, and Violet’s head shot up to meet his eyes. “Oh my god, that’s Soldier Boy.”

He nodded curtly, frozen as he waited for Her to explain it, because he sure as shit didn’t know how. Ben had no fucking clue how to explain what was going on, between them or with the whole fucking shit show their lives were. He would let Her, because she loved talking and explaining shit—she real was fucking good at it—and it wasn’t Ben’s story to tell.

“Yeah, it is.” She pulled back with a sigh, looking at Ben over her shoulders with a small smile. Her eyes scanned over him, brows raising slightly. Going somewhere, Benjamin?

Ben scowled. No. Shut up.

“What the shit is going one?” Violet gaped at Ben as they detached, and he felt a little bit like a fucking zoo animal. “You promised answers,” Violet said Her name again, giving her a glare. “I want them now.”

“You would like them now, please, Vi.” She grinned, tone teasing. “I’m gone for three years and suddenly you’re forgetting all your fucking manners. Not very lady-like of you.”

“Wow, you’re exactly the same, you sarcastic cunt.” Violet muttered, and She laughed.

“Cunt isn’t a very polite word-“

“You taught it to me,” Violet grumbled. “Give me my explanation now, please. You bitch.”

“Fine, but first.” She pulled Violet back into another tight, long hug, and Ben waited until She spoke again. “I really fucking missed you.”

Violet smiled, and Ben watched her squeeze Her back. “I missed you as well.”

They returned to Her and Ben’s apartment silently, Ben didn’t miss any of the confused looks Violet kept shooting him as he trailed after them. When they reached the door and She scanned the badge, Violet shook her head but still didn’t speak, and when they entered their apartment, Violet gaped around as she was led to the sofa. It was a little less wide-eyed awe than Her gape had been, and more completely confused.

Violet turned around, and gave Ben one last look before she spoke, “can you start talking very soon? Because this is crazy. Batshit crazy.”

“You might, uh,” She sighed, looking back at Ben nervously. “You might want to sit down. It’s a long story.”

“Is he,” Violet nodded at Ben. “Gonna be here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Her answer is immediate, and Ben is filled with stupid goddamn pussy warmth at the firmness of her tone. He was going to be here, because She wanted him here. The whole fucking time.

“Fine.” Violet dropped onto the sofa, and looked at Her expectantly. “Go.”

“Okay,” She sat down slowly, voice a little hoarse, and Ben didn’t even think as he crossed the room. Sat silently at Her side, pressed his leg against Hers. He ignored the baffled look from Violet, because nothing was more fucking important than the way She had let out a steady breath once Ben was touching her.

She glanced at him with a small nod. Thank you. Before she turned to fully face Violet. “Ready?”

Violet nodded, and She took one last long breath.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”

“The beginning?” Violet frowned. “Like your suicide?”

“I didn’t commit suicide. I mean, obviously, but I didn’t try to either. I got kidnapped.”

Violet glanced at Ben. “Kidnapped?” She repeated slowly. “By-“

“Not by Ben. He’s still in Russia at this point. And I kind of kidnapped him a lot more than he kidnapped me.”

“You kidnapped Soldier Boy?!”

“Nobody fucking kidnapped me,” Ben grumbled at the same time Violet shouted, and She gave him a flat look.

“You are not being helpful.” She shoved him slightly with her thigh. “And it’s complicated Violet. We’ll get there, but I have to actually tell the fucking story.”

Violet nods, and She continues.

“Homelander. Homelander kidnapped me. He kept me in a dungeon for two years, and um,” She swallowed, staring at the floor, and leaned back slightly into Ben. “Hurt me. He’d just found out he had a son, Ryan Butcher, and he wanted more. So he hurt me. Then he wanted to be immortal, so he started testing a new compound V variation on me. He moved me into a lab for the scientists and they tested the V on me. I escaped, and the CIA kind of recruited me. William Butcher, you’ve heard of him?” She stopped, glancing at Violet, who nodded.

“He’s the dude who killed Madeline Stillwell. The same night you vanished.”

“Yeah, well, kind of. I think technically Homelander did that. But you’ve got the right guy. He’s the one who recruited me to his team, to kill Homelander. It’s Butcher, Starlight, Starlight’s boyfriend Hughie, this French dude who’s pretty chill, Kimiko, who’s mute but super sweet, and um, MM. Big guy, probably OCD but a really good dude. And me.”

“Cause you’re a supe now,” Violet says slowly. “You got shot with V.”

“Four times, yeah.”

“What powers did you get?”

She stared a little more intently at the floor. “I’m immortal. I don’t have invulnerable skin like him,” she nodded at Ben. “Or Homelander. But I have a regenerative healing factor that’s really powerful. I can survive being hit with a nuke. It helps with my healing power.”

“Healing power?”

“I can transfer wounds from others onto myself. I have a theory that it’s less about the wounds and more about the biology, though, because I can do mental stuff as well.”

Ben tensed at that. Because it made more fucking sense, sure, but She hadn’t mentioned that to him. That Her healing his alleged shell shock might just be biology manipulation. She’d said she was fine though, and it had been a few months-

“Is that it?” Violet asked, pulling Ben’s attention. “Can you explain Soldier Boy now?”

She gave a small, huffed laugh. “No. Not even close. Each shot of V added something, immortality and healing was just the first. The second was, um, empathy.” Her hands started to tap in Her lap. “I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you first-“

“I don’t care,” Violet snapped, and Ben decided he liked her. “Keep talking. Second shot was empathy. Third shot?”

“Sensory manipulation. But I’m kind of terrible at controlling it, and it only happens when I sing.”

“You’ve gotten a lot damn better though.” Ben muttered, and She shot him a dirty look. “You fucking have, Sunshine. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Fine, I can control it a little. But not completely.”

Ben nodded with satisfaction, and Violet gave him another confused frown before looking back at Her. “Fourth shot?”

“Pyrokinesis. Really strong pyrokinesis.”

“How strong?”

She answered slowly. “It alone makes me stronger than Homelander.”

“Oh,” Violet’s eyes widened. “That explains the CIA.”

“Yeah, and him.” She pointed to Ben, and Violet’s eyes followed. “I’m stronger than tall, dark, and stupid here. So I made the genius pitch to wake him up and use him against Homelander.”

Ben scowls. “It was a genius pitch. And I’ve been a fucking delight.”

She grins at him. Don’t be a baby. I’m teasing you, Pretty Boy.

He rolled his eyes. Shut the fuck up.

Make me. She stuck her tongue out at him, and turned back to Violet as the Thing pushed inside of Ben. “We lived in a safe house for a while, and after Neuman we’re here. The FBSA’s new supe compound. That’s it.”

She’d glossed over a lot of shit, but the explanation seemed to satisfy Violet. She nodded slowly, looking between them, and asked. “You’re friends? You and Soldier Boy?”

“Um,” She looked at Ben, and he shrugged. Whatever She said he’d take. He’d take and let it feed the Thing, because at least it was something. “Yes. We’re friends. Good friends.”

“Good friends,” Violet repeated slowly. “And you live together.”

She narrowed her eyes at Violet, and the room was silent for a second. Ben felt like he was missing something, especially when Violet just sighed and moved on.

“Just to recap,” she said slowly. “You’re a supe now. You’re more powerful than Homelander and Soldier Boy. You’ve been working with the CIA to kill Homelander. Soldier Boy didn’t kidnap you, you’re friends with him,” Ben didn’t like the way Violet said the word friends, like it was a fucking lie or joke. “And you can’t leave this place, which is a government supe compound.”

She nodded. “I know it’s scary and dangerous, but I can ask my boss Mallory to keep an eye on you. I don’t know if it will be better or worse to put a detail on you-“

Violet says Her name firmly. “I’m gonna be fine. I don’t need a detail, that’s crazy. Just,” she smiled sadly. “Can you not the fix it thing for only two hours so I can talk to my sister?”

“I don’t do a fix it thing,” She muttered, and Violet gave Her a flat, bored stare that was uncannily similar to the one She always gave Ben.

“Uh huh. Do they feed you here? Is there a bell to ring?”

“We have a kitchen, Vi.” She snapped, gesturing over the couch.  “I can make something.”

“I’m not tryin to die-“

“I can fucking cook now, bitch.” She said proudly, and Ben felt the Thing hum again. “So I’m going to make something, and you’re going to eat it, and then apologize for being fucking rude.”

Violet scoffed, but followed Her when she stood and walked to the kitchen.

Ben trailed after them and watched. Watched Her, completely at ease, with someone that wasn’t him. Laughing about Her childhood, telling stupid stories, still brushing against Ben comfortably whenever she passed him. Letting him see this piece of Her from before. Still fucking wanting him there, with her, when it wasn’t about death and violence and the dark. Still fucking perfect, casually telling Ben to get the stuff he’d put on a shelf too high for Her to reach. Sitting across from him as they ate but keeping Her foot pressed against his. Talking to Violet about movies Ben hadn’t seen—but She gave him a look that promised they would watch them—their mother still being a bitch, and Violet’s life in the past three years. She was, apparently, a dancer. Going to some fancy fucking school for it.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing that as a career,” She said, shaking her head. “Ballet?”

“Of course.” Violet shrugged. “I want to use my talent. Unlike someone.”

She laughed. “I didn’t need lessons for my talent like you did. It’s not my fault I’m just a fucking natural.”

“At least I can carry a tune. Kid me blindfolded could dance better than you now.”

“You don’t know that,” She muttered. “It’s been three years. Maybe I’ve gotten better.”

“Have you?”

She scowled at her plate, and Violet laughed.

“You can dance,” Ben frowned at Her. She could definitely fucking dance. The memory of it was carved into his brain. “I’ve seen you dance.”

Don’t help me, Benjamin. You’ll make it worse. She glared at him Violet snorted.

“Did you see her dance at a club or something?”

Ben looked between Her and Violet, deciding the numb feeling of Her kicking him under the table would be well worth some fucking answers. “Yes.”

“Ah, that’s not the same.” Violet grinned, and her voice turned to the haughty, mocking impression of their mother they'd been doing all morning. “She can dance like a slut, not a lady.”

“Fuck off,” She snapped at her sister before turning her glare to Ben. “And not a single word from you.” She didn’t kick him, but threw a crumpled napkin at his face. Ben caught it and winked at her.

I like that you’re not a lady, beautiful.

She scoffed. You would.

Violet hummed, looking between them, and She sighed. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you do that with someone who’s not family.”

“Shut up,” She muttered, but Ben leaned forward.

“Do what?” He grunted, because if he didn’t find out what the fuck Violet was talking about he might explode.

“That silent communication thingy she does. I’ve only seen her do it with me and our siblings. And a few of her closest friends.”

“Violet-“

“It’s a creepy talent.” Violet ignores Her, still addressing Ben. “Me and my brother tried to recreate it together once, but it only works with her.” 

“My brother and I,” She corrected without missing a beat. “And it’s not a talent. It just happens.” 

“But I’ve only seen it happen with people you-“ Violet was cut off as She threw another napkin.

Her face was tight, glaring at Her sister, and before Ben could demand more answers for what the fuck Violet was talking about, the door slid open, revealing the one pussy agents from their move.

“I’ve um,” the agent, it was the woman—the one Ben had taken the gun from too easily—looked at Ben, Her, and Violet grouped at the table. “I’ve been told to escort your guest out the front. For her safety.”

“It’s been three hours?” She asked with a small, sad frown that made the Thing riot.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Fuck,” She swore, standing slowly. Ben remained in his seat as Violet did the same, but moved his hand to the back of Her leg when she rounded the table. So he could just fucking touch Her. So She looked a little less like the damn world was spinning and her heart slowed just a little.

She paused a foot from Violet, arms tense at her side. “I don’t know if you want me to-“

“Can it,” Violet closed the distance, pulling Her into a tight hug. “I just want to hug you.”

Ben liked how fast She gave in. Comfortably, easily, muscles relaxing further where Ben’s hand rested. Because there was at least one other goddamn person on earth who saw that She was perfect, and just wanted Her. Not quite as much as Ben wanted Her, because that was simply fucking impossible. But just Her.

“You can’t visit frequently,” Ben heard Her say softly. “We can write off once, say you were just looking for more answers. But you can’t keep coming, or tell anyone, or really call, or text-“

“I know you’re not dead.” Violet squeezed Her. “I know I’m not crazy. Everything else is good by me.”

She looked over Violet’s head to Agent No-Gun. “Make sure she’s safe, please.”

Agent No-Gun nodded. “Of course, Ma’am.”

The hug lasted a minute longer before Violet pulled back, and gave Her one last smile. “Kick Homelander’s whole butt.”

When the door closed behind Agent No-Gun, She was swaying slightly. Her heart faster, her eyes glued on the door like it might open, or explode.

“Are you going to cry.” Ben asked, because if She was he needed to be ready. Figure out a game plan now.

She just sighed. “I’m not going to cry. I’m just. I didn’t-“

Ben stood and pulled Her into his chest. She’d stay there until her heart became even again. He’d hold her until she made him stop.

When She pulled back to look at Ben she wasn’t smiling. But her features weren’t too controlled, like something was being held barely fucking together inside her. She was looking at him, with a wide, open, soft, perfect face.

“Thank you,” She said softly, and Ben blinked.

“I didn’t fucking do anything-“

“You were here.” She buried her head back against him. “I’m just really fucking glad you’re here.”

“I’m not going a goddamn place without you,” he muttered, scowling at the air. “That’s that. So don’t fucking thank me.”

“Good luck stopping me, Benjamin.” Her words were muffled against Ben’s body, and he could feel her smiling into his chest. “Thank you.”

“Brat.”

She relaxed even further into him, and it made Ben smile like a fucking pussy into the air. She tilted her head up, staring at him with a gentle, simple perfect fucking smile. Looking at Ben like he was something she wanted.

“Cunt,” She whispered. And kissed him. She wasn’t horny, or mad, and Ben wasn’t doing anything except fucking standing there. Ben hadn’t asked, or initiated it because he was being mauled inside by not touching her. She kissed him, slow and so fucking easily. When She pulled back her whole perfect face was lighter, her smile bigger, and Ben returned it. Because why the hell wouldn’t he, when She was looking at him like that.

“You can’t fucking dance,” Ben drawled Her name, because he needed her to laugh a little. Be a little brighter.

She shoved at his chest, but didn’t try to get away from him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I could teach you,” he leaned down a little, bringing his eyes to Hers. “I’m a goddamn king of waltzing.”

“Wow,” She wrinkled her nose at him. “That is such fucking bullshit.”

“I fucking am.”

“You’re going to kill us both.”

Ben scoffed. “With dancing?”

“You’d find a way,” She shrugged, but was still smiling. “It’s one of your many skills.”

Ben started adjusting Her in his arms, dropping one hand to her lower back and moving the other into her own hand. “Sing.”

“Sing?”

“Something slow. No fast shit.”

She gaped at him. “You’re being serious.”

“Of course I am, I’m not a-“

“Pussy fucking liar,” She stuck her tongue out at Ben’s glare. “If you drop me-“

“I’m not going to drop you.” Ben snapped. He’d listen to Butcher talk for fifty straight years before he fucking dropped Her. “Sing.”

She watched him a little more apprehensively than Ben liked, but did. A slow song that sounded like wind and sunlight, with guitar and gentle symbols. Ben recognized it, he wasn’t sure from where but he was positive he did. He’d ask Her later, but right now it was about this. About holding Her like she deserved to be held, spinning her around and making her smile. Guiding her legs as he moved into the four-step waltz his mother had taught him, that had only been used for stupid fucking Vought parties or boring galas with pointless themes he’d hated attending. Making Her keep looking at him like that. Her perfect lips parted slightly, eyes clouded with something that wasn’t panic or lack of control. Just staring at Ben, touching him, wanting him there. Her voice was making the world fill with sunlight, making her somehow more beautiful, making an ocean breeze carry through the world and everything become just them. Together.

The song ended too soon, and She didn’t move away. She rested her head back against him, and Her heart was uneven again. Ben couldn’t figure out why, why the fuck was her heart like that when she looked so peaceful, but when She looked back up at him she was smiling. So he let it go.

“Thank you.”

Ben didn’t tell Her to shut up this time. She never fucking listened anyway. So he just kissed Her. Made her open for him as far as she could go, made her moan into his mouth. He’d mastered using every part of her body he was allowed to touch, worked out how to get her happy and wrecked in his hands from just kissing her. He’d stay here forever. As long as She was doing whatever fucking thing turned Ben into a weak fucking pussy that was consumed by just Her, he’d stay right here. He’d ask Her to sing again, because she sounded like a fucking angel, and he’d learn every way to keep Her there. With him. If She told him she’d go with him, when this was over, there wasn’t a single fucking thing that would keep him away. Mallory could threaten him, Edgar could call in his favor, Butcher could mock and hunt him, but Ben would stay with Her.

He’d follow Her anywhere, and listen to her rants, and put up with all Her insane shit because she was fucking perfect. Because She did the same, for him, for almost everyone, and there wasn’t a goddamn person who deserved the world more than she did. So, if She let him, Ben would give it to Her. The world was fucking shit, but every part of it was more beautiful when she was around. 

So he’d find a way, bombs and fists and blood and gunpowder, to give it to Her.

End Note: I can’t believe I Avengers Tower 2013ed the Boys. Also for everyone going “gross where did the plot go” do NOT worry. It is coming. It is very much coming. We're about to CRAZY.

If you want to, leave a comment! Every single one makes my day and fuels my soul, so if you have any thoughts at all, share them!

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@sadpods

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, mentions of abuse, mentions of miscarriage, eventual STALKING/KIDNAPPING/NON-CON

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

Also this series will be based off of one of my worst fears, so you guys have fun with this.

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

You threw the last of your empty boxes into the garbage in front of your house. Your back ached, and your legs were screaming for a reprieve, but you’d been determined to finish unpacking by the end of the day. And so you had.

The cicadas were loud in the nearby trees, the dark sky decorated with stars. Though you were back down south, you’d forgotten how cool the nights could get. You tightened your sweater around you as you looked along the street. In the years past, so much had changed…but a lot had remained the same.

With a sigh, you turned to make your way back into the house. You’d been running like a train nonstop for the past 3 days, determined to completely unpack and get settled long before school started back. You wanted one less thing to worry about.

You placed your back against the door as you closed it, taking a calming breath and locking it. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were safe. Your ex-husband was far away and none the wiser to your location. You had nothing to be afraid of. You chanted this to yourself until you were able to finally move away from the door.

Your modest house was so quiet, and you welcomed the silence as you made your way upstairs. The atmosphere was so peaceful, and for the first time in a long time, you could hear your own thoughts. Living with Aldrich for so long, you’d forgotten what that had felt like.

He was regularly criticizing anything he could think of, his biting words packaged in a smile that was a tad too wide. Kissing you a tad too harsh and grabbing you a tad too tight. You honestly didn’t know how you’d put up with it for so long. You were disappointed with yourself, but even more disappointed that it took a miscarriage for you to finally leave him.

It should never have come to that.

You settled into bed, somewhat uncomfortable, but only in a way that was unfamiliar to you. You were alone and safe and at peace for the first time in years. Determined to have a good night’s sleep, you pushed painful thoughts out of your mind, and vowed to make your regrets fuel your new future.

The grocer handed your bags to you with a shy smile on his face, cheeks flushing when your fingers brushed over his.

“Thanks,” you told him.

“Have a good day,” he recited, something he probably said a hundred times a day.

You left with a quiet ‘you too’ thrown over your shoulder before making your way outside. The town was filled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. Sure, you’d been gone for almost 10 years, but you hadn’t expected your small town to have expanded this much in a million years.

You noticed a scratch on the side of your car when you neared it, and you took a closer look. With a huff, you looked around, but no one was parked near you and no shopping carts were close by either. Convincing yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, you settled into your car and placed your groceries in the passenger seat.

As you drove down the familiar street, you chuckled to yourself, recalling how you vowed to never return here. The universe had a twisted sense of humor that way because here you were, almost 10 years later, seeking sanctuary in the one place you hated most. Perhaps, in a way, this was your life lesson.

You’d been so desperate to get out of this backwards small town that you’d run off with the first man to give you the chance. How foolish you were then to think you were in love. You were just barely an adult, could hardly even be called one. Aldrich Killian was older and gorgeous and most importantly, he’d been going places.

A chance of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had placed him in your nowhere town, and you’d fallen head over heels immediately. He took to you just the same, and there was no hesitation whatsoever to run off with him to the big city. You left everything and everyone behind without a backwards glance.

He hid his true nature well. So well that it took you an entire two years into the relationship to learn about the other women. Having traveled all the way to New York on his coattails, you’d been distraught…and hurt. You may have been silly then, but not that silly.

He came home the next day to find you gone. His money made it easy for him to track you down at a friend’s place though, and the romantic in you was swayed by the sight of the powerful man on his knees, begging for your forgiveness. Surprisingly, he was true to his word, and from then on out, you were the only one.

But your relief was short-lived. You soon came to find out that these other women had something in common with the way he treated them, and with them out of the picture, you soon had that very same thing in common too.

It started out small. A raised voice here, a harsh grip there, but then he’d slapped you. Real hard too. It had left your ears ringing, and you’d been so shocked, that you didn’t see the next one coming. It became a regular occurrence, but it was always followed up by gifts and apologetic words. He’d be good for a few days, and it became easy to believe things would change. But like clockwork, the cycle repeated.

You hadn’t even known that you were pregnant when he shoved you down the stairs. You could only blink in shock when the doctor told you that you’d suffered a miscarriage. That was one of the first things you heard when you woke up inside of the hospital, and the sudden loss of something you didn’t even know you had was heartbreaking.

So when they asked for the truth, suspicion already in their eyes as they looked at the fading bruises and the fresh ones, you gave it to them without hesitation. Proving it was easy enough, and the divorce papers had been drawn up in no time, but Aldrich had money. A lot of it too.

He didn’t even do some measly community service.

You scoffed in the quiet car, hands tightening on the wheel. All of that was over now. You were back home and far away from him. Things would be different now. They had to be…

You frowned when your car started to sputter, confusion filling you as your eyes widened. You looked at the dash, and your confusion grew as you realized you were completely out of gas. A disbelieving scoff left you as you had no choice but to turn your car off. You sat back in your seat with a sigh, blinking as you realized that you had no one to call.

All of your family was gone, and all of your former friends had long left. The ones that hadn’t, the bridge had been burned long ago. Grabbing yours keys and your purse and the few grocery bags you had, you decided you’d have to walk home. It wasn’t too far of a walk. In New York, it’d be considered nothing.

It was late in the evening though, and you were sure it was going to be dark before you reached your house. You didn’t feel comfortable just leaving your car on the side of the road, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. This stretch of road was lengthy, and the thought of being out here at night made you nervous.

You squinted when red and blue reflected off of the pavement from over your shoulder. You looked over just as a police cruiser pulled up beside you. Your heart skipped a beat when the person inside turned it off and proceeded to exit the car. He curved around the front of the car, and you blinked at the full sight of him.

His blond hair was neatly pushed away from his face, and you sharply inhaled at his handsome features. He was tall, and his blue eyes were focused entirely on you as he approached you. His smile was kind, inviting even, and you were tempted to return it, but something prevented you from doing so. He reminded you of your ex-husband, and you warily eyed the way his uniform hugged him, plastered to the bands of muscle that were his arms.

“Evening, ma’am,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” you murmured.

“Was that your car I passed not too long ago?”

You looked in the direction of where you left your car before nodding.

“I…ran out of gas. Which is odd because I was sure I had over half a tank when I left home,” you told him.

He chuckled, and you frowned at him. Catching sight of your glower, he shook his head, taking a step towards you.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems that the punks in this town got another victim.”

He pointed in the direction of your car.

“You got yourself an older model, one that doesn’t require the gas cap to be opened from the inside. They like to steal gas from whoever they can,” he explained.

With a scoff, you realized they were still pulling that mess the teens did before you left. How silly of you to think the kids here would move onto bigger and better things. The blond before you spoke before you had the chance to.

“You live far?”

You squinted up at him, hesitating before eventually shaking your head.

“Not really…no.”

You watched as he walked to the passenger side, opening the door as he faced you.

“Let me drive you home,” he offered.

Your face pinched, wondering how to refuse. You didn’t get in the car with strangers, no matter their profession. You started to shake your head.

“It’s not that far. I can walk-.”

“It’s going to get dark soon, and you need to get those groceries in the fridge.”

He wasn’t wrong, but still, you hesitated. He threw you a crooked smile, leaning his arm on the open door now.

“I won’t be able to rest if I don’t know you made it home, so if you don’t get in, I’ll just have to ride alongside you,” he teased.

Although, you got the feeling that he was entirely serious. Reluctantly, you walked towards the cruiser.

“Okay.”

He closed the door for you as you made yourself comfortable, clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Are you really that responsible or is it just because you’re in the car with me?” he wondered with a chuckle as he sat beside you.

“Just that responsible,” you murmured as he started the car.

You gave him directions to your house, and he followed them with a hum.

“You’re new,” he suddenly said.

It was a statement, not a question, and you frowned.

“Hardly,” you said, shaking your head.

“Huh. I’ve never seen you around…”

You squirmed in your seat at his questions, and you fought with yourself. You told yourself that you were just so skittish after your ex-husband, and you told yourself to calm down. This man wasn’t him.

“I only recently moved back,” you eventually replied.

“How long you been gone?”

He took a left, and you blew out a breath.

“Almost…10 years?”

He let out a low whistle, tapping his finger on the wheel.

“No wonder. I moved to town about 6 years ago. 10 years is an awfully long time,” he noted. “What made you come back?”

“Divorce.”

He didn’t respond right away, and you could feel him eyeing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly said.

“Don’t be,” you honestly replied.

You pointed at your house, and he pulled into the yard. You tried not to be so obvious as you hurried to get out of his car. You were halted by a hand on your arm, and you looked over at him.

“Don’t worry about your car. I’ll get some gas in it and make sure it arrives here safe and sound,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to-.”

“Don’t worry about it. Consider as part of my job description.”

You nodded, finally throwing him a small smile.

“Thank you…” you eyed his badge. “Officer Rogers.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Please…call me Steve.”

You simply replied with a strained smile before exiting the car. He watched you as you made your way to your door, and when you finally got it open, you waved him goodbye. He returned it, but he didn’t drive off. Not even when you closed and locked the door.

Through the window, you watched him sit there for a while, longer than you deemed necessary. Eventually, he pulled out of your yard, and you turned to put your groceries away with a frown.

“Y/N Y/L/N… I haven’t seen you in ages…”

You glanced up at the familiar voice, and your eyes widened as they connected with familiar blue ones. You blinked.

“Wanda,” you greeted in surprise. “…hi.”

She placed her hand on the chair across from you, grinning as her reddish-brown hair spilled around her shoulders.

“So you’re back,” she said.

“So I am,” you nodded. “You look great!”

“You’re one to talk. When you skipped town, you were this confused little girl who didn’t know who she was trying to be. Now you come back here and you’re like something out of every miserable husband’s wet dream,” she teased.

You scoffed at that, shaking your head.

“Hardly…”

“Still as blind as ever, I see. Are you back in the old house?” she wondered.

You shook your head.

“No. I considered it, but… It’s too painful,” you told her.

She solemnly nodded, and you perked up.

“So…do you work here?” you wondered, glancing around the impressive diner.

She smirked.

“Sort of. It’s actually kind of mine now…”

Your lips parted, and a genuine smile fell over them.

“You bought it,” you said, in awe.

“I did,” she breathed, glancing around. “I always said I would…but part of me didn’t think I’d ever do it.”

“…but you did! And it looks amazing! You actually turned this place into something worth coming to,” you complimented her.

She hummed, taking the seat in front of you as she looked around with a wistful sigh.

“This could’ve been ours, you know…”

She looked at you, and you glanced away.

“Yeah, well… I was too busy chasing dick,” you replied, and she laughed.

“You were young and in love! If I’d had an Aldrich Killian offering to whisk me away from here, I’d have done the same too.”

“…and I would have locked you away to prevent you from ruining your life,” you threw back.

Her smile fell, and her eyes dimmed a tad as she studied you.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. I’m not sure there ever was…”

There was a brief awkward silence, and she suddenly sighed.

“Was he the reason you didn’t come for the funerals?”

You didn’t reply, but there was no need to. She shook her head.

“I knew you wouldn’t just…not come. Everybody else was so convinced, but not me. I knew there had to be a good reason… Where did he drag you to anyway?”

You leaned back in your chair with a wistful smile.

“New York.”

“Was it at least fun?”

You mulled over her question before you shook your head.

“No. Aldrich…liked women,” you said with a shrug.

Wanda’s face fell at that.

“…and…when he gave those women up so I would stay, I found out that…he liked hitting women even more,” you quietly continued.

“Y/N,” she whispered, reaching across the table to take your hand.

“I’m past it…mostly. Some of us just have to learn our life lessons the hard way,” you told her with a shrug.

“Don’t say that. You loved him! That’s hardly worthy of a punishment. Sometimes, people are just shitty, and it has nothing to do with us.”

The bell over the door rang from behind you, and Wanda loudly welcomed them without even glancing up. Several voices filled the establishment, and you noted that they traveled and congregated to a table in the back corner, behind you. You heard footsteps approaching, and Wanda finally glanced up. You watched as she grinned at the newcomer.

“Steve!”

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, it was the officer from the other day. You didn’t know if he was on break or getting off of a shift, but he was still in uniform. His hands were on his hips as he looked between you two, a slow smile moving along his pink lips.

“Wanda…ma’am,” he greeted.

Wanda gestured to you.

“This is my friend-.”

“We’ve actually already met, but I never did get the pleasure of learning your name…”

You cleared your throat, feeling put on the spot as Wanda looked at you.

“Y/N,” you told him.

His smile slowly widened, and he ran his eyes over your face, drinking you in.

“Y/N,” he greeted again. “It’s nice to put a name to the face.”

You simply replied with a tense smile as you laid your arms on the table.

“Wanda, me and the rest of the crew are going to have the usual,” he told her.

“Of course! I’ll get Gwen to get right on it.”

He smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

He looked to you, blue eyes connecting with yours.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged with a nod just before leaving.

“You’re in town for five minutes and already have an admirer,” she slyly said once he was out of earshot.

“No, I’m in town for five minutes, and you’re already trying to set me up,” you corrected.

She waved you off.

“I’m just saying…he’s nice. I’m not telling you to marry the guy, but he’s a good man. As squeaky clean as they come,” she told you.

“So you’re saying that’s what I need?” you sarcastically wondered.

“I’m not saying you need anything. I just think it’d be nice for you…and he clearly likes you. Leave it to you to be back for five minutes and catch the eye of the most sought-after man in town,” she breathed. “Every woman within a 75-mile radius has been trying to bag Steve Rogers ever since he breezed into the city limits 6 years ago.”

“Well then you take him.”

“I would, but I’m happily taken. Besides, he seems to have his eye on someone else. How did you meet him anyway?”

You happily told her of your embarrassing encounter with the man that was sitting not even 5 tables away.

You watched as the tow truck pulled your car just beside the curb in front of your house. Officer Rogers and his cruiser were parked on the other side of the driveway, and the blond man leaned against the vehicle as he supervised the process. Only a few minutes later, and your car was back, and the truck was driving off as Steve waved them off.

You hugged your sweater to you as you approached him. He met you halfway, and you sent him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “You honestly didn’t have to do that. I could’ve easily put some gas in it and drove it home.”

“…but you would’ve had to walk to the gas station to fill a gas jug, and then walk to your car,” he said, shaking his head. “It was nothing, really.”

“Either way, I still feel bad. I was more than capable…”

He chuckled.

“So how do you know Wanda? You girls go way back or something?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “We were two troublemakers.”

He found that funny, maybe because Wanda was so different now. He rubbed the side of his neck, and his face slowly began to fall.

“When you told me your name, I thought it sounded familiar, you know. You’re Y/N Y/L/N…aren’t you?”

Your own visage grew solemn, and you slowly nodded.

“I’m sorry about your family. I know it happened years ago, but… I wanted to offer my condolences all the same,” he whispered.

You took a deep breath, chest clenching.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that…and for my car,” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “You really didn’t have to do that…nor drive me home that night.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly, and his blue eyes sparkled.

“Well…if you’re feeling that bad about it…treat me to dinner,” he offered.

You blinked, taken off guard by his bold proposal, and your lips parted as words failed you. He ran his eyes over you as he waited for your response. You thought about Wanda’s words. She assured you that he was a good guy, and to be honest, you wanted a good guy…but not yet.

Your divorce had only been finalized a few months ago, and you really needed time to yourself. You were barely an adult when you ran off with Aldrich, and you’d spent the last decade with him. You wanted to know who you were when you weren’t with him. You owed yourself that.

“I uh…I’m flattered, really, but… I’m not really interested in anything like that for the time being,” you honestly replied.

His eyes dimmed just a bit, but the smile never wavered. You felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. Besides, it just…doesn’t seem appropriate for some reason.”

Steve sharply inhaled and nodded.

“I understand. Have a good night,” he said before taking a step back and turning to go to his car.

You sighed as you watched him go, but you knew that it was for the best. You made your way inside of your quiet house, hoping for a good night of sleep, but sleep did not easily find you.

Too many things were on your mind.

Seeing Wanda brought back so many memories that you would honestly rather forget. She reminded you of a time you spent sneaking out to meet her, idly dreaming of things you halfway hoped to accomplish. An already rocky relationship with your family that only crumbled when you took off.

You thought about how you didn’t talk to them for years, too busy following Aldrich around like a lost dog. You’d thought you had more time. You had put off what you knew you needed to do again and again. You thought the chance would always be there…until it wasn’t.

In a single night, your entire family had been ripped away from you. A car accident. Something so simple. Aldrich hadn’t even let you go to the funeral. By then, he’d grown possessive, and it wasn’t long after that he started putting his hands on you. Part of you thought he’d waited until you had no one to run to.

You sat up in bed when you heard a noise on the side of your house. You were upstairs, and the fact that it was loud enough to reach your ears worried you. Slowly, and quietly, you left your bed, creeping towards the window.

At first, you didn’t see anything and thought that you’d imagined it. However, what you thought was a part of the general darkness, moved. Your eyes widened, and you reached for your phone, immediately dialing 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

You stumbled over your address, the numbers and street name still new to you, but you shakily told her about the strange man in your yard. Your eyes didn’t leave him the entire time, and relief didn’t fill you when the silhouette eventually left.

One of the upsides to a small town was that it took no time for you to hear sirens coming from down the street. You hurriedly ran downstairs, opening the door as the cruiser pulled into your yard. Steve greeted you, and you did calm down a bit at the familiar face.

“Is he still here?” was the first thing he asked, one hand on his gun.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, placing one hand on your heart and the other on your forehead.

He briefly touched your shoulder before telling you he was going to secure the perimeter of the property. You stood in your doorway while he did so, trying, and failing, to convince yourself that you’d imagined it. After all, the worst thing to happen in your town was your family’s car accident. Strange men skulking about people’s homes was unheard of.

When Steve was done, he shook his head at you, one foot on your steps.

“It’s all clear.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be relieved.

“Are you sure it was a man? Not some animal?”

You shrugged.

“I…don’t know. I was trying to fall asleep just before so it’s possible. I’m sorry,” you apologized.

He sighed.

“It’s alright. This is my job, remember? This is what I’m here for,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “I appreciate it, Steve.”

He paused, blue eyes connecting with yours as the corner of his lips curved upwards into a smirk.

“That’s Officer Rogers to you.”

You blinked, brows furrowing just a tad as he turned away.

“You try to get some sleep,” he threw over his shoulder.

You hurriedly closed your door as he drove away, frown deepening as you mulled over his cold behavior.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @darkficreposter​ @mcudarklibrary​ @jtargaryen18​ @kellyn1604​ @readermia​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @coconutqueen21​ @briannab1234​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​

[sirianhewigxiii]

Folks, I wasn’t really going to write a full-blown analysis about this entire scene - but it somehow turned into one when I started putting down a minor comment I was planning on making about xD 

But I couldn’t help it, especially since I was hoping for something like this and the show delivered something even better...

First there’s Ironwood. He’s down and defeated, both physically and most likely mentally as well. Winter dragged him into the room in handcuffs, the modified version of his weapon on her back and maybe after she had thrown him into the cell she actually even helped him lie down once she had uncuffed him - who knows, either way she had locked him up now. She ended up having to lock him up and place a barrier between them.

So back to the beginning of the scene when we first get back to the cell room after the time stop, Winter is turned towards Ironwood’s cell and she was looking at her scroll and Jaune’s broadcast.

Still what was she doing before that? Was she probably just looking at Ironwood, thinking about how things ended up the way they did? 

I don’t think there’s any regret in her whatsoever, but maybe just a little sadness about what he has become, because at least at some point in her life he probably was the father she always wanted for herself - one that was nurturing her and listened to what she had to say.

So, we first see her turned towards Ironwood and a few seconds in the camera swings to the side and we see Jacques to Winter’s left. And so far Winter hasn’t even acknowledged him in the slightest, she was looking at her scroll, most likely Ironwood before that and she wasn’t even looking at him when she brought Ironwood in. 

Mind you, Jacques is an asshole who got what’s coming to him, but remember, he has no idea about anything that is happening right now and just for a split-second imagine what it must have been like for him to see Winter coming into the room where the cells are...And not only did she just come into the room - she was dragging in the very man he had once accused of ‘stealing her from him’ at the same time.

And it looks like, in a maybe desperate attempt to get to know about what was going on or maybe just to clutch at any last straw he thought he might have, he must have gotten up and walked to the edge of his cell. Still with how WInter was ignoring him he probably hadn’t dared saying a word up until Jaune’s announcement.

And only then Winter barely looked at him to reply and she even turned around to leave halfway - the strongest reason for that most likely being the fact that she was completely unwilling to talk to him and even what reply she had given him felt constrained as if she was forcing herself to do it. 

Still at this point it looks as if she was at least somewhat trying to at least relay what was necessary to him. But here’s where this entire first shot and the positioning come to play.

Not only is there only some large distance between them, but the perspective this is shown from has the corner-projector of the cell’s wall between them and the pillar looks like a thick black line that separates Winter and Jacques. And Jacques is at the edge of the shot and occupying the lesser space of the two.

If we go full symbolic: that thick line that devides them will most likely never disappear and always be there. Jacques has messed up too badly for that to happened. He had ruined Winter’s entire youth and put her through too much shit. Winter was disinherited when she joined the military, if we do some math here it must have been when she was 21. 

She entered Atlas Academy at the age of 17, had four years of training there and enlisted once she was done. 

We can figure that she must have been already in the military for at least a year or two, since Weiss had been the heiress in her stead for enough time for word to spread around by then. (Blake already knew Weiss in V1), so make her maybe 23 in V3 and since two years have past since the Fall of Beacon she is right now 25 years-old.

So she’s now 25 and for the first 21 years of her life she has suffered through his terror, we have seen some of his behavior through Weiss’ experience, but I can imagine that while Jacques still had a tight grip on Winter, she was the one taking the brunt of his outbursts and punishments on Weiss’ and Whitley’s behalf to protect them for a much longer time by then. Part of Weiss’ and Whitley’s conversation when we first met Whitley in V4 also suggests that the two younger siblings were mostly together most of the time until Weiss first became the second heiress and later on left for Beacon. 

Coming back to Winter that means that for the majority of her life Jacques was keeping her completely isolated, probably even from her siblings - Winter’s room was close enough for Willow to figure out how the Hound was closing in on Whitley in Jacques’ office, when Weiss had to walk quite a distance from her room to the office in V4 and we’ve seen Whitley had been dropping by Weiss’ room often enough in V4 to maybe suggest that his room isn’t too far from Weiss’. 

Winter left Schnee Manor for the military completely on her own, never having had a team at the Academy that we know of, never having had any friends she spoke of or rather having been denied all of those thing from, guess who Jacques who was most likely keeping tabs on everything she did at Atlas Academy. 

The first and only friend she had probably made only after freeing herself must have most likely been Penny. Penny who of her own had a special peculiar situation that set her apart from others.

And Weiss who had most likely noticed how Jacques was trying to keep in control of Winter even at the Academy, therefore left for Beacon, while officially coming up with some other excuse he wasn’t smart enough to see through.

And while a 17-year-old Weiss, who had been the heiress since she was probably 15 only, had the chance to more freely meet people, make friends and properly heal. Winter didn’t. 

Or rather she might have healed to some extend and moved forward with her life, but she has huge scars that will always remain and never disappear and so she will never forgive Jacques for what she has been through because of him.

Still when Jacques tries to reach out in desperation and gets zapped by the barrier, Winter slowly stops and actually gives him an answer to his question, even though she still doesn’t even look at him.

 So why did she still talk to him? Why did she go out of her way to tell him that they were going to come back for him (and Ironwood) once they were done saving everybody else? Because of Weiss. 

It’s only for a second but we clearly get to see Winter’s pain when Jacques thanks her and whatever he was trying to say afterwards to weasel himself into her good graces gets immediately shut down, when Winter turns around, directly looks at him for the first time and shuts him down with the truth. 

She only looks at him because the one thing she wants him to actually understand is that she wasn’t the one saving him. She makes sure that he clearly knows that she had nothing to do with it and that it was Weiss’ decision to save his sorry ass. If it was up to her, Winter would just simply leave him to rot here and it was only at her younger sister’s request that she didn’t.

And after that Jacques knows it too. You can visibly see him simply shutting down right after and the moment he realizes it.

For the first time he might have actually become aware of how much irreparabel damage he had done to his first child (or all of his children in general).

This wasn’t what he kept thinking of as Winter just running away and being unruly or Winter having been taken away from him by Ironwood. Jacques finally realized that Winter actually truly left because of him. Because he was fucking up.

And he realized that his life means nothing to her.

Actually absolutely nothing.

[harryskalechips]

Jealous possessive Harry !!

Lmaooooo sorry, I’ve been having a bit of a writer’s block! Anyway, here it is!!! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!

warning: A bit of smut looool and him being a soft baby towards the end

word count: 1.8k

Fact after another fact were the only things he could hear yet he ignored them. He stood beside an old lady who was speaking to him about her love for History -and although Harry smiled and nodded along, his eyes kept glancing at his girl from across the room. Truth be told, he didn’t care about history. The only reason why the boring conversation started in the first place was because of his fiancée! Today was the 8th year reunion for Y/N’s graduating class for her high school. Being a good fiancé that he is - Harry decided to join her and be her date.  What he didn’t expect, however,  was for her to bump into her favourite teacher and then leave him with her! 

He just wasn’t expecting himself to be so bored at this event. At first, he thought it was going exceptionally well. As soon as they came inside to join the party, He immediately wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist. While she spoke to her past friends. He was enjoying himself since he was able to watch her talk to them. He even felt a little bit too proud to see her so successful just like him.  What he especially enjoyed, however, was when she started speaking about their relationship. He was proud to call her his girl - and he’ll forever be grateful that for some odd chance the universe led her to him. Of course, he can continue on being a little sap that he is... but just like any other man, Harry had feelings that made him a bit too envious. For example, Y/N excused herself minutes ago to get some dessert but now he’s noticing her laughing with some guy, barely trying to excuse herself from their conversation. Harry didn’t like the feeling that the unknown man was giving. Especially, since he could tell the guy was checking his girl out.

“I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt our lovely chat but I think my fiancée needs me over there. ” Harry interrupts Y/N’s past history teacher as he eyes Y/N one more time. 

“Oh, of course, You should go tend to her.” The old lady smiles as she catches sight of the girl. “ It was nice meeting you, Harry. Hopefully, I’ll see you and Y/N at the next reunion.” Harry nods politely before crossing the room to join his girl and this prick.

 “Babe!” Y/N smiles as she sees Harry walking towards them. “This is Sam, my ex-boyfriend.” She smiles and gestures to the man beside her. 

“Nice to meet you.” Sam gives out his hand out for a handshake but all Harry does is coldly stare at it. Instead, his first instinct was to claim Y/N, so he immediately wraps his arm around her like before.

“Harry.” His raspy voice speaks up as he glares at Y/N’s ex. Y/N could feel his hold on her tighten but she didn’t think much of it. 

“We were just talking about the old days. Sam and I dated for most of our high school years so we have a lot of memories here.” She says nonchalantly as she lays her head on Harry’s chest. “So Sam, did you bring a girl with you here today?”

“Actually no.” Sam shoves his hands in his pockets as he looks at Y/N then at Harry. “I dated a few girls but I think my most serious relationship was with you.” Thanks, Sam, now the mood of this room has just gotten a bit tenser. Harry could tell he was picking out his words to make Y/N blush.  

“Me? No way Sam.” She smiles. “You’re such a good guy. I’m sure there is someone out there for you!” Y/N compliments him as she flashes her big shiny engagement ring to him. “I know I found mine.” She looks up at Harry and kisses his cheek. 

“I honestly don’t think I can find another girl like you.” Sam tries to speak in a nonchalant tone so Harry doesn’t get pissed at him. Too bad he already is. 

“Yeah, she’s one of a kind,” Harry coldly replies for Y/N. “Too bad you cheated on her though.” 

“Harry.” Y/N pulls aways from him with wide eyes. “That was years ago, I’m over it.” 

“He’s right though.” Sam interrupts. “I was too immature back when we were dating but if I had you now, I’d make you the happiest girl in the world.” 

“Alright mate, I gave you enough time to talk to my girl. I think it’s time you hop off your high horse.” Y/N stood there speechless as she just heard what Harry said.

“I’m sure I can buy her a prettier diamond than that little pebble you call an engagement ring.” Sam scoffs as he takes a drink of glass. Harry steps up in a threatening manner towards him but Y/N reaches her arm out to stop him.

“Not here, please.” She whispers to him before she looks at Sam. “And for you Sam, just because I was being nice to you today, it doesn’t mean I want you back or anything. Buy me a bigger ring all you want but you’ll always have a tiny dick. And as for this ring, it costs more than that little Rolex of a watch you’re trying to flex. Let’s go.”

 Y/N confidently holds Harry’s hand in her’s as they walk out of the library and into the building’s hallways. Before they greeted everyone at the party, Y/N brought him to her old locker and showed him pictures of her back in high school. So, today meant a lot to her. He felt a bit upset that he ruined their mood but he doesn’t regret it whatsoever since he wasn’t the one who started it.

 “Hey, wait,” Harry mumbles quietly as he pulls Y/N into an old classroom that happened to be unlocked. He shuts the door and rubs his chin with his hand as he stares at her. 

“I don’t think we should be in here.”  Y/N looks around the unfamiliar room. She never had a class in this hallway but it seemed to be a math class for juniors. Harry obviously ignores her as he continues to speak.

“He wanted you.” That tone of voice wasn’t something Y/N heard in a long time. He was speaking in a monotone way that it almost came off as if he was disappointed at her. Funny enough, for the past three years, she hasn’t witnessed this side of him as much as she thought she had. He always showed his sweet childish personality, which made her practically fall in love with him. 

“It doesn’t matter. He has always been a jerk and what he said today pissed me off.” Harry walks forward making Y/N take a few steps back. He traps her, however, as she can’t walk back anymore due to a student’s desk.

 “I don’t give a fuck about what he said.” Harry rests his hands on either side of her, making him lean down a bit. “You look so sexy right now in this little red dress you’re wearing. I was already noticing how he was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Harry.” Y/N whispers as she stares right at him. 

“Mmm, what is it, baby?” Harry smirks as he continues to watch her. He can already tell that she was wet -with those eyes she’s giving him? Very obvious.

“We should head back to the party or um ma-maybe uh go home?” She stutters.

“Give me a moment.” Harry immediately picks her up and sits her on the desk. “Don’t move.” He walks back to the door and locks it. “So weird these classrooms have locks huh?” Harry makes a weird face and laughs a bit as walks back to Y/N.

“Lockdowns.” She laughs a bit too as she plays with the ring on her finger. 

“Are you okay?” Harry’s hands rub her thighs in comfort. He takes her chin in his hand so she can look at him. 

 “Are you mad?” Y/N asks as she looks at him. Harry pulls away but keeps his hands on thighs. Some weird obsession he has with her legs. 

“Not at you.” He looks at her and gives her a little smile. “A bit jealous that stupid prick got to pop your cherry.” He mumbles as he looks back down again. He watches his fingers tease her dress a bit higher.

“Harry, did you just say pop my cherry?” Y/N laughs as she keeps her hands on his shoulders. “So you’re jealous? Never thought you were.” Her hands rub his neck in a slow teasing way.

“What the type to get jealous?” Harry smirks at her and steps a bit closer. “All the time baby, all the time. This one just hits different y’ know? You dated this guy for a while and did stuff with him. Not an issue but…. He broke your heart once and you’re mine. I don’t want anyone to make you feel like that ever again.”

“I love you.” Y/N purses her lips as she stares into his eyes. Who knew her soft little lover gets a bit possessive too. “If it makes you feel better, I get jealous all the time.”

“Yeah?” Harry laughs as his fingers reach to her wet core. “My girl gets jealous? About who? Tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” Y/N smiles as her hands slip to his waist. 

“Why not?” Harry asks as his eyes lock themselves on her centre that’s practically begging to be touched. He licks his lips as he helps her raise her dress a bit.

“Because it’s everyone.” She replies shyly. Harry kisses her immediately making her moan.

“You’re mine baby, you will always be.” Y/N quickly reaches down to unbuckle his belt as Harry watches her. “Fuck look at you so eager.”

“We can’t stay here too long but I want you so bad.” Y/N helps him push his dress pants down.

 “Fuck.” Harry looks around the classroom. “We have so many options, where should I fuck you?”

“I don’t really care.” She looks around the room as she quickly pushes her dress a bit higher. “

Teacher’s desk?” Harry playfully asks as her eyes widen. 

“That’s so disrespectful!”

“They will never know!” Harry laughs as he takes himself in his hand. As he teasingly pumps himself he looks at his girl. “I’ll fuck you on this desk right now and we’ll disinfect it when we’re finished, how about that?”

“Fuck. I don’t know wherever! Just stop talking and take me already.” Y/N moans as she pulls him closer so he can just fuck her already. 

“That’s my girl. Lord, You look so good right now.” Harry smirks as he pulls her hair. “Alright.” He licks his lips and continues. “Time to fuck you so hard that by the time we go back to that little party, Sam will know how good I’m fucking you.” 

[etoileholland]

I will make it up to you

@secretmongereaglegiant asked: Hey, I love reading all your Tom Holland imagines! Could you do one of the boys and Tom’s girlfriend y/n are stuck in quarantine but y/n and Harrison haven’t been getting along and it worries Tom.

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: angst, a sprinkling of bad words, fluff at the end.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: My first request! Thank you so much for requesting this! I elaborated on it slightly, but I hope that you enjoy it and that I did it justice. As always, requests are open! And let me know if you want to be added to the tag list 💛

(the gif is not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

Although being quarantined wasn’t the best, it did have its perks. You were spending more time with Tom than you had in a long time, and it was nice to be able to catch up on movies and TV shows that you didn’t have time to watch earlier. You were also becoming closer with the boys, and they were becoming more like your little brothers than they were friends.

Except for one.

Even from the beginning, you and Harrison butted heads. You were cut from the same cloth, and it only became more amplified when you were stuck in the same home. It could also be attributed to the fact that it’s already been two months of quarantine, and everyone was starting to become stir crazy.

The squabbles started off small, but as time went on, they became worse.

“I can’t stand you, do you know that?” You scoffed as Harrison stood in the kitchen.

“Back at you princess, I can’t believe we’re stuck in the same home, it’s unbearable.”

“Well it wouldn’t be so unbearable if you actually washed the dishes or took out the trash, or I don’t know, stopped blasting music at 2am when everyone is trying to sleep!”

“I didn’t realise me playing music interrupted your 23 hour beauty sleep. You should shoot for 24 hours instead.” He smirked, and you felt as though you could strangle him.

You stood there for a moment, bringing your hands up in the air, before letting out a sigh.

“Okay I’m going to be the better person here and walk away. You can have the last word.” You made your way out of the kitchen calmly, and were met with Tom standing in the hallway.

“Whoa baby what happened? Why were you two fighting?” He asked as he pulled you into an embrace.

“He just doesn’t do anything useful, you know? I have no idea how you’ve been friends with him for this long.” You spoke against his chest, and he rubbed your back. He paused for a minute and didn’t say anything.

Seeing you two argue broke Tom’s heart, and he realised in that moment that this could be a bigger problem than he originally thought.

“He’s not so bad, darling. You could try to play nice with him for a change.” You scoffed, and Tom just laughed.

“Well he started it!” You whined like a child, and Tom just pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, wanna go for a walk with me and Tessa?” He asked and you nodded, grabbing your coat.

—

The next week wasn’t much better. Another argument started when Tom suggested that everyone should watch ‘Knifes Out’ together.

“I don’t want to watch a film with her.” Harrison emphasized, “she talks way too much and gets excited and then you have to rewind it to hear what the actors said. It gets annoying after a while.” He huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yeah well at least I’m not a stoic statue of a person who has no emotions whatsoever.” You retorted, and Tom only sighed.

You got up from Tom’s lap and stood up. “I don’t even want to watch the movie, I’m gonna go upstairs and take a bath instead.” You said as Harrison just smiled.

“Thank god, I can’t stand her sometimes.” He tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he pushed play on the film. Tom shot him a glance, and Harrison just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not my fault you decided to date Y/N, or should I say, the devil in disguise.”

—

A few days later when Tom wanted to exercise with Harrison, you became really clingy with him and insisted that he cuddled with you instead.

“But baby I have to work out, you don’t want me getting all soft and flabby do you?” Tom asked as you placed kisses all along his jaw.

“But I want to cuddle.” You whined as you kissed Tom down his neck. He moaned as he pulled you closer into his lap so that your chest was flush against his. You knew exactly what you were doing, but you just wanted him all to yourself. Also, you were doing it out of spite for Harrison.

“Fine darling you win, I’ll cuddle with you.” You let out a small squeal as you placed a kiss on his lips, before nuzzling your face into his neck.

A few minutes later Harrison knocked on yours and Tom’s bedroom door to see what was taking him so long. He opened the door to see you and Tom cuddling, and he gave Harrison a sympathetic glance.

“Sorry mate, Y/N wants to cuddle right now but I promise I’ll workout with you tomorrow. Isn’t that right angel, you’ll let me workout tomorrow?” He cooed as you nodded your head. Just then, you looked up grinning at Harrison, shooting him a look as if to say “I won.”

Harrison huffed as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

—

Tom felt really torn when hanging out with the both of you. You were his girlfriend and Harrison was his best friend, but you two didn’t get along well at all. It pained him to see that you two couldn’t stand each other for more than five minutes. And he felt guilty when he would spend more time with you than Harrison, and vice versa. It never seemed that he could please you both, but he was determined to make it work.

He was worried that the worst was yet to come, but he didn’t anticipate how quickly it would come.

—

As promised, Tom went to workout with Harrison the next day, but you weren’t keen on the idea of not spending time with Tom.

“C’mon Haz, am I not allowed to watch my strong boyfriend work out?” You cooed as you squeezed Tom’s bicep.

“You can, maybe you can even help with my workout, darling.” Tom said as you clapped. Harrison was glaring at you, and you shot him an innocent look back.

“You don’t even need her help! What is she gonna do, help you lift weights or something?” He threw his hands up, already exasperated.

“I don’t know, she can be here for support, isn’t that right angel?” Tom asked as you kissed his shoulder.

“Exactly.” You grinned as Harrison snarled at you.

You were always lurking around, practically hanging off of Tom, and it infuriated Harrison. He just wanted to spend some time with his mate but you were always vying for Tom’s attention as well.

And one day, Harrison set you off completely, and it was almost irreconcilable.

—

“You fucking idiot! I wish I could just go back home and not look at your god awful face every morning!” You chucked his phone at his face, and he barely dodged it. It smacked against the wall, leaving a dent, but his phone was in perfect condition.

Harrison picked up his phone and inspected it before stuffing it in his pocket. “Good thing I have an Samsung, there’s not one crack in it.” He smirked and let out a small laugh. “Unlike your iPhone that fell off the table and shattered into a million pieces.”

“My phone didn’t ‘fall off the table’-” you gestured, making air quotes with your hands, “it was shoved off the table by a certain someone who thought it would be funny to see how durable my case was. It fell outside on the concrete, of course it would fucking break!” You let out a laugh as you became more furious.

“Well then, you should’ve had a better case.” Harrison smirked. He was having far too much fun annoying you, and he began to laugh when he saw how visibly angry you were becoming.

“I swear I could murder you right now.” You sneered, and Harrison only laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re just a conceited asshole, who’s so vain that you have to have constant validation from literal strangers on the internet to make yourself feel better?” You took a deep breath, pausing before you continued. “But the truth is, if the fans actually knew you like I do, they would be repulsed by how unbearable you truly are.” You crossed your arms as Harrison’s smirk dropped and was replaced with a clenched jaw.

You two stood there in silence, and you were starting to become slightly afraid of the man standing in front of you. Sure he was only a bit taller than you, but the look in his eyes screamed ‘revenge’.

“You know what, Y/N? I literally have had enough of your shit as well. Tom thinks that you are a literal angel, but the truth is that you are the most high maintenance, manipulative and complainy bitch in the world. Trust me, I can see why fans are constantly sending you hate and saying that you don’t deserve Tom, because it’s true. You’re just vile.” He emphasized the last word, and he froze as he saw Tom standing there, jaw clenched.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You looked over and saw Tom holding in tears. “Listen, I love you both equally. Harrison, you’re like my brother, and Y/N, I’m madly in love with you. But right now I can’t stand either one of you. The two people I love more than anything in the world can’t get along, and god it breaks my heart.” He sniffled as he wiped away a tear. You took a step towards him but he took a step back.

“I’m pissed off, and I don’t want to do something, or say something that I know I’ll regret. So until you two can get along, I want the both of you to leave me alone. Y/N you can sleep on the couch tonight.” He said coldly as he took another step back.

“Tom.” You pleaded, but he held a finger up.

“I am this close-” he held up two fingers and pinched them together, “to breaking up with you. Don’t say one more word. And you-” he pointed to Harrison, “are getting on my nerves so much that I’m tempted to pack your things and kick you out. I don’t care that there’s a plague going on, I am so furious that I would kick you out in a heartbeat. Why the fuck can’t you two get along?” He stormed out of the room and went into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

You and Harrison stood there in silence, shocked at what just happened. After a minute, Harrison spoke.

“Shit, we’ve really fucked up now. He never gets this mad at people, and when he does, that means he’s at the end of his rope.” Harrison muttered as you began to cry. “Even if we can’t stand each other, we have a mutual love for Tom. And right now, he’s ready to get rid of the both of us if we continue to argue.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Half the time, our arguing is pointless anyway. How did this even start?” You wiped a tear away from your cheek and Harrison just shrugged.

“Honestly, I have no clue. I think it may be because we’re kinda similar in a lot of ways.”

“Maybe, we’re both slightly passive aggressive.”

“And we’re both competitive.” Harrison replied

“And we’re always vying for Tom’s attention. Does that make us jealous?” You asked, and Harrison nodded.

“I’ve always been jealous, it’s a bad habit of mine.”

“Me too.” You replied as you took a seat at the kitchen island. Harrison pulled a beer out of the fridge. He proceeded to open it and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink.

“You know, maybe we could put our differences aside for Tom. We’re both very important people in his life, and why would we toss all that aside just because we’re arguing? You asked as you massaged your temples. “Can you grab a beer for me please?”

“Since when do you drink? You’re always nagging us to stop drinking because it’s bad for our health.” Harrison replied.

“Yeah well I think the situation calls for it, now gimme.” You made grabby hands as he walked over and handed you the drink. You took a sip and grimaced. “God this stuff is terrible! How can you even drink this?” You scrunched your nose up as you slid the drink over. “I need a chaser, asap.”

Harrison laughed as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Coca Cola for you. He popped the lid off and set it down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You took a sip and smacked your lips together. “Now this is better.” You both laughed, and for the first time in a while, you were actually enjoying his company.

“I have an idea.” You stated, which caused Harrison to look up at you. He raised his eyebrow as took another sip of his beer, finishing it before reaching for yours.

“Oh no, what is it?” He asked as you grinned.

“Why don’t we do something really nice for Tom so that he can see that we work together well, and so he’ll forgive us really quickly because I already miss him.”

“Okay, let’s show Tom that we can be friendly so that he won’t kick us out of here!” Harrison walked over and you two high fived.

“So what’s the plan?” You asked as you took another sip of your soda. Harrison pulled up the chair next to you and sat down, contemplating on what to do next.

“I don’t know, maybe we can make him a cake that says ‘sorry for being ass-hats’.” He laughed as you sat there thinking about it.

“Let’s do it.” You clapped your hands together and stood up from the chair.

“You can’t be serious, really?” Harrison asked as you began to rummage around the cupboard for baking ingredients.

“Why not? What have we got to lose? And besides, it would show that we can put our disdain aside and collaborate on something. Can you grab the sugar for me please? I’m too short to reach it.”

Harrison laughed as he walked over and grabbed the bag of sugar for you. “Okay if I remember correctly, Tom loves chocolate cake. Or was it red velvet cake that he likes? Hm I’m not sure, anyway let’s make him whatever kind of cake that we can, with the ingredients we have lying around.” You nodded as you grabbed the well loved cookbook from the counter and flipped through it.

“What do we have in the cupboards? Can you please check love?” You asked Harrison as he let out a small laugh.

“Oh now we’re calling each other pet names? Look at us being amicable, princess.” He added as you let out a laugh.

After a few minutes of searching, you realised you had nothing good to throw into a cake.

“Well, so much for that.” Harrison tossed his apron on the counter, but you had an idea.

“We have an egg, graham crackers and some chocolate, right?” You asked and Harrison nodded.

“Good, I can make a French Silk pie real quick. it’s almost so good that it might make Tom forget how much he’s mad at us.”

And the pie was almost that good. Harrison even surprised the household by preparing dinner. He had made tortellini and garlic bread for everyone, and you had helped with dessert.

“Wow, what happened? And why are you two not killing each other?” Sam asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table. Harry soon followed as he let out a gasp. “You didn’t kill Tom, did you? Is that why we haven’t seen him all day?” He asked as you and Harrison both shook your head no.

“Well, you see, Tom is mad at the both of us because we can’t get along.”

“He’s ready to break up with Y/N and kick me out of the house.” Harrison added.

“That is true, he did say that. But we’re hoping that he’ll forgive us, and see that Harrison and I are now friends.” He looked at you and nodded, and Sam and Harry just sat there in silence.

“Right, well good luck with that. I don’t think he can be won over that easy.” Sam added as Harry nodded.

Tuwaine came in and took a seat at the table as well. “Oh yeah I heard your argument, it was rough.” He said as he took a bite of the garlic bread. “Damn that’s good.” He said as he took another bite.

Tom came down from his room and stormed past you both so he could grab a glass of water. His face was puffy, and his eyes were swollen and red. You could tell that he had been crying, and it broke your heart that you couldn’t console him. You were the reason he was crying.

“Hey, um Harrison and I cooked for you. We made tortellini, garlic bread, and pie for dessert.” You spoke quietly, as if not to anger him anymore.

“That’s true, we make a good team.” Harrison added as he put his arm around you. Tom stood there expressionless, and just nodded.

“Cool, thanks.” He grabbed a plate and dished himself up. He stormed past you again, making his way back into his room and locking the door. Harry, Sam and Tuwaine all looked at you, pausing, before continuing to eat their dinner.

“Sam, I think you may be right. He’s gonna he mad at us for a long time.”

—

Later that night, after you and Harrison washed the dishes, you tried to get into Tom’s room. You remembered that he said you could sleep on the couch tonight, but you didn’t really think he meant it.

“Tommy, it’s late. Can you open the door so I can go to bed?” You asked through the door, and you heard some shuffling inside the room. Tom cracked the door open and threw some clothes at you, and swiftly closed and locked the door. “I meant it when I said you would be sleeping on the couch tonight.” He replied coldly.

You began to cry as you realised the extent of the situation, and how he was showing no sign of changing his mind. You picked up the clothes and made your way into the living room. It was nearly midnight and everyone else was in their rooms, so you got changed in the living room and crawled onto the couch. You sobbed loudly, letting out little hiccups as you cried some more. A few minutes later Harrison came out of his bedroom, pillow and blanket in hand.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up with my crying.” You sobbed as you rubbed your eyes.

“You didn’t, I mean I could hear you, but that’s not why I came in here. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for Tom to be so mad at you, and I didn’t think he was really willing to break up with you over our feud.” He handed you the blanket and pillow, and you set them on the couch. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I think I was just mad that you were always wanting to spend time with him. You do make him really happy though, when you’re not around he constantly gushes about you.” He looked down and you motioned for him to sit next to you on the couch.

“I’m sorry too, I also didn’t mean anything I said earlier. I think I was just jealous of you spending time with him; it felt like you were taking him away from me. And it’s been hard since I can’t go back home, you know. It’s hard not being around family, and I forget that Tom and the boys are your family. I guess I haven’t really handled this whole situation well, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” You sniffed. Harrison handed you the tissue box and you smiled.

“I’m sorry Y/N for being a jerk.”

“And I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You added.

“You’re not, you’re really good for him.”

“You too.”

You scooted closer to Harrison and put your head on his shoulder. He stroked your hair and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Friends?” He asked as he extended his hand out.

“Friends.” You said as you shook his hand, signifying that your feud was over.

“Would you want to watch a movie?” Harrison asked as you moved your head so that you could look at him.

“I thought you hated watching movies with me. I talk too much and get too excited.” You said as he frowned.

“I didn’t mean that either, you’re just really passionate about things and I envy that about you.” He added and you grabbed his hand. You gave it a little squeeze before letting go.

“And I envy that you’re not dramatic.” You let out a laugh, and Harrison joined in. He positioned himself so that he was laying on the couch, and his head was on your lap. You were stroking his head and playing with his hair.

“How about you pick the movie, princess.” He whispered as you grabbed the remote.

“Is Tangled okay, love?” You whispered back and he only nodded.

“Of course.”

A few minutes into the film, you both were starting to get sleepy. You crawled next to him so that you were both laying on the couch next to each other. He put his arm around your waist, and you covered both you and him with the blanket. Before you knew it, you were both sound asleep.

Tom woke up at 3am, and nearly had a panic attack when he realised you weren’t sleeping next to him.

Oh that’s right, I’m mad at my girlfriend and best friend. He thought to himself. His head was pounding from all the crying, and he knew that he was dehydrated. Slowly, he got up, holding a hand to his forehead as he went to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

He walked past the living room, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you and Harrison curled up next to each other on the couch. You two looked peaceful, and Harrison’s lips were curled into a little smile.

He let out a small smile, and a tear escaped his eye. This was the first time that you two had gotten along, and the sight of it made him cry. He tried to contain his crying but he couldn’t, the tears were steaming down his face. He let out a small sob, and he tried his best to not wake you.

You had woken up to see Tom standing there, sobbing. You looked over at Harrison, who was also stirring.

“Oh shit.” You said under your breath. Harrison immediately untangled himself from you as you both sat up. You were expecting Tom to be mad and accuse you of cheating, but instead he only shook his head.

“So, you two really do get along now.” He said as he wiped a tear away. You handed him a tissue and he took it, blowing his nose before tossing it in the garbage.

“Yeah, Y/N and I are friends now. We pushed our differences aside and realised that the other person isn’t so bad.” You both looked at each other and smiled, and looked back at Tom.

“Tommy I’m sorry for being terrible and for not getting along with Harrison.”

“I’m sorry for not getting along with Y/N, she’s lovely and I’m happy she’s your girlfriend.”

“I’m happy he’s your best friend.” You added as Harrison kissed you on the top of the head.

“And I’m sorry for threatening to break up with you, and also saying that I would kick you out. I didn’t mean it at all, and I’m sorry.” Tom let out a hiccup as he wiped a tear away. “Do you forgive me?” He whispered as you all nodded. Tom held out his arms as you and Harrison both went to give him a hug. After a minute and some more crying, you all pulled away. Tom then grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into a long kiss.

“I love you Y/N, so much. I can’t spend any more time without you.” He sobbed as you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.

“Will you sleep with me, please? I miss you.” He whispered and you replied “Of course.” He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his torso.

“Harrison, I love you mate.” Tom said, still carrying you as you placed kisses along his jaw.

“I love you too mate, now go get some sleep.” He replied as Tom led you into his bedroom.

—

After this, you and Harrison were nearly inseparable.

“Okay so I was thinking, you could join me on my jog today and then you could teach me some yoga.” Harrison stated as you were all having breakfast. You took a sip of your coffee and nodded. You two were sitting next to each other, with your shoulders touching.

“And after that, we can watch Fleabag together.” You added as he nodded excitedly.

“Oh! We can’t forget about working on that puzzle.”

“And you still have to buy me a new phone, you did shatter mine.” You added as you both laughed.

“With a better case, of course.” He said as you lightly elbowed him in the side.

“Oh, definitely.” You laughed, as Harrison looked over at you and grinned.

Tom sat across from you both as you made plans for the whole day, and a smile crept onto his face.

“Can I join in?” He asked as you and Harrison both glanced at him.

“Hmm, nope, sorry mate. She’s all mine now.” Harrison said, leaning his head on your shoulder as Tom pouted.

“Something tells me I’m going to be the third wheel from now on.” Tom remarked as everyone at the table broke out in laughter.

——

Mes petits anges (taglist): @starkissedholland @scarletxwidow @fangirlwithasweettooth

[elephart-hi]

Everything That's Hidden Beyond the Mist

Chapter 2: Do You Still Want Me to Get Out?

Summary: Jude has to face Cardan after he catches her masturbating. She is assaulted with a number of emotions mainly anger, shame, and lust at being discovered. Cardan explains why he came to her room.

Read to find out why he stays

Rating: m for mature and multiple chapters

chapter 1

AN: this is a prequel to Worthy of a Queen but you don't need to read that to enjoy this.

He just stands there staring, mouth hung open as he clasps and unclasps his hands before him as though looking for something to say.

“Get. OUT!” Jude hears her voice break as she shouts. She is drowning in shame because of course, Cardan had caught her like this. Her former nemesis just found her masturbating and moaning his name, and now he gets to watch her, with tears in her eyes, as she shouts at him in embarrassment. Jude wants to curl up in a ball and never speak to anyone ever again. She is horrified and worse than that he looks horrified.

Jude had been planning on lying to herself about all of this once she had finished. She was planning on going about her routine of acting as though she had never thought of Cardan in that way. Pretend that she would never touch herself at the thought of him, something she actually does quite often. She was going to go back to acting like she hated him. But now she can't do that. Now, she has to face the truth that she does fantasize about him… a lot.

Worst of all she also has to face the horrifying reality of him knowing she does just that… since he caught her doing it.

“Jude… “ he says carefully.

“OUT!” her voice sounds shrill. She feels out of control.

“I can see you’re very upset but-”

Jude grabs her pillow and throws it at him, he catches it easily, face clearly annoyed.

“OKAY! Let’s skip the part where you throw a tantrum because you’re embarrassed, alright,” his chest is heaving as his midnight eyes bare down at her. “Look I know it’s upsett---”

“You know nothing!” Jude spits, she has another pillow in her hand, anger easily consuming her rather than embarrassment.

“Let. Me. Finish.” His black eyes continue to stare her down, his patience running thin. Jude hates her wretched life.

“I know it’s upsetting but---” he tries to continue.

“UGHHHHHHH” Jude snarls and throws her other pillow at him. Which she immediately regrets because she is proving his point about her throwing a tantrum.

The pillow hits his face and falls to the floor. He blinks and his face twitches from barely controlled rage. She stays quiet now. She feels her hair get static as electricity crackles the air of her room. His kingly powers affecting the environment. She carefully watches him take a deep breath, then another, trying to reel in his temper. His hands clasp together in front of him, knuckles white from how tight his grip is.

“Jude--” he says, his voice an arctic breeze, “I know your upset. But---- I WANT TO BED YOU-- so if you would PLEASE-- get over your embarrassment, so we can get back to you MOANING MY NAME... PLEASE,” Cardan’s eyes are closed as he speaks, he grinds his teeth together. He went back and forth between shouting this at her and trying to talk in a soothing manner. She heard a bit of desperation in his tone as he spoke. He was clearly trying to be calm and failing miserably.

It was Jude’s turn to stare and grasp for something to say. She blurts the first thing that comes to mind, “Why are you even in my room!”

Her shock at his words sprung her from her stupor enough to think beyond her mortification and the rage she felt to cover up said feeling. Now she felt rage at being interrupted, she felt rage at him invading her privacy.

“So you’re clearly not over it yet... shall I wait, or do you want me to leave you here horny and ashamed,” Cardan smirks at her now, trying to goad her; he is trying to avoid answering why he was in her room. Jude can tell, she knows that smirk is from nerves.

“CARDAN” she snarls at him, her senses coming back to her. He shouldn’t have been able to catch her in such a position. Who was he to barge into her private chambers?

That same lustful voice from her fantasy reared its head and murmured he’s the high king, he can do whatever he pleases, let him please you, you both want it.

Blush rushes to Jude’s cheeks as his words from earlier finally sink in, ‘I want to bed you,’ Cardan had practically shouted it at her. She feels the ounce of control she just mustered slip back out of her reach.

“I think I preferred it when you moaned my name,” he says trying to suppress a snicker.

Jude buries her burning face into her sheets and groans in frustration.

“This is the worst dayyyyyyy,” her words were barely audible through the comforter. Jude hates this feeling. She almost never lets her guard down, and less often than that does anyone force her into a position where she is at a loss for it. Now Cardan has her trapped like a mouse completely out of her comfort zone. He isn’t going to let this go.

“This is a marvelous day,” he says with a laugh as he walked further into her bedroom. “Here I thought you had no interest in me whatsoever but there you were mastr-”

“I was NOT,” her wounded pride lashing out again.

He bursts into laughter at that, hugging his side.

“You little liar,” he mocks with a shake of his head and a tisk of his teeth, “and quite the actress too, I would have never known that you craved me that way.”

It was not common for fairies to use that word. Never. It was too absolute for their truthful tongues to use. Cardan must be having a field day right now after realizing that Jude fantasizes about him in secret after having believed she never thought of him like that.

“Why are you in my room Cardan. Why didn’t you KNOCK!”

He may wear the blood crown but Jude is the one who holds all the power between them. She is the one who rules the folk, she is the one with command over him. Jude rallies herself once more and braves her fiercest sneer “do I need to command the answer out of you?”

His eyes widen in worry at that and he clears his throat. He begins to walk about the room, taking in her messy chambers while trying to appear unbothered. He is skimming through the titles of her bookshelf when he finally replies.

“I did....” he drawls.

“You did what, exactly,” she asks, allowing all of her anger to shine through.

“I knocked.”

“I don’t remember hearing you knock, was it the faintest one you could manage?”

He smirks at her then, but it wasn't one from nerves, his smirk was dripping with arrogancy, “truthfully I banged on your door a few times and made a point to not be quiet about it… But I supposed you couldn’t hear it over all that moaning. You were quite loud.”

Jude flushes, she had been very close when he interrupted her. She knew she had been moaning but she didn’t think it was enough to gain attention. She had been so focused on the image of him naked before her… hands reaching out to touch her, all of the folk knowing that it was Jude that he wanted above all others. He had even stopped the whole revel in order to make her more comfortable…

A flush returned to her cheeks as her stomach did summersaults at the memories of her fantasy. She knows her face is burning as he stares at her with that cocky smirk on his face. She knows why he is so full of himself. It’s because he knows she was moaning because of him-- for him. Loud enough that she couldn’t even hear him banging on her door. He knows. And he loves it.

The shame and embarrassment came rushing back to her but Jude refuses to falter again. His smugness making her see red.

“AND?! So you decided to barge in and snoop on me while I was clearly having a private moment. What is wrong with you,” She let herself be furious. Shame and anger coat her every word. She sees fear spring into his eyes; good she thinks. He should fear her.

“No--- I--You--- You were whimpering!! I--” he groans and rubs the base of his palms into his eyes, accidentally messing up his cosmetics. He tries again rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was scared you were moaning out of pain. I was worried about you” he turns to face her with a serious look that seldom crosses his face, “You were alone in your chambers moaning and whimpering. I didn’t know if someone had come to assassinate you and left you bleeding out on the floor,” his words came out in a rush as he tried to correct her of his intentions, his pointed ears turning pink. He seemed embarrassed.

“I just don’t know what I would do without you, Jude--- I mean what the kingdom would do without you. And then well… then I was in your room and--- and you were pleasing yourself…” his cheeks pinken and he averted his eyes. He was embarrassed that he interrupted her. He was embarrassed that he had been so wrong, “I realized my mistake so I went to leave but… but then you moaned out my name...”

Cardan’s eyes glazed over as he trailed off, mind going back to the way his name spilled out of her lips, needy--- whiny even. He had never heard Jude sound like that before. She wasn’t one to whine, she wasn’t a desperate person. She had worked and fought for everything she had. If Jude wanted something, she simply got it, she didn’t whine about it. So when he heard her he naturally assumed the worst but… then he saw her and she was more than fine. Jude’s not a whiny person and yet… there she was… whining… for him. She was whining because she wanted him.

Oh, stars above indeed. Cardan couldn’t think about anything but the way his name sounded from her lips or how she had whimpered from want. The only thing on his mind was how he desperately needed to get her to make those sounds again, and how he needed to be the one to make her do it.

He felt the blood rushing to his groin, could feel his pulse racing, knew that these specific pants would do little to hide his arousal and would probably make it more evident than most pants he owned. He couldn’t bring himself to care as he gazed at her now, with her plump lips hanging open in shock like that... with a blush on her cheeks and breasts… with her hair a mess and clothes astray and the delicious smell of her wet folds--

Heavens above he was a wreck because of her right now.

Jude finally understood the horrified look on his face from earlier. Her anger fizzled out of her. He had been worried that she was in pain and then horrified that he intruded on her while she was doing something private. Jude would have been mortified too if she had done the same thing. She was mortified that her moans sounded like she was in pain.

They just stared at each other now both chests heaving.

“Well?” he said, at last, one of his brows quirking upward.

“Well, what?” Jude breathed back. She had no idea what to do in this situation.

A smirk tugged the corner of his lips again. His eyes had softened from annoyance to something dark and hungry. She watched him regain his composure as he realized she wasn’t consumed by anger anymore. She watched his confidence grow with every step he took towards her bed. She swallowed hard when she noted the size of his bulge showing proudly through his pants, pushing against the fabric that kept it restricted. almost nothing was left to her imagination. The sight of him walking towards her like this was better than anything she could have fantasied about.

Her eyes shot up when he cleared his throat, he was right in front of her now standing beside her bed. His head was bent down watching her while she had just been blatantly staring at his bulge. The same self-obsessed smirk on his lips. He knew he was gorgeous; it was hot in her fantasies but in reality....

Ughhh! it was still hot but it pissed her off for some reason. She looked into his eyes and realized it was his arrogance that pissed her off. Confidence was one thing but arrogance was annoying. She let that thought simmer in her mind as she made a face at him to show just how unimpressed she was. To show him he wasn't anything special.

He smiled endearingly at her annoyance as if he found it cute. Jude was about to give him a piece of her mind when his long slender fingers reach down and grabbed her hand. He brought her fingers up towards his face, right to his full lips and into his mouth. It was the hand she had just been using to please herself with, still coated in her fluid. Jude watched with her mouth hung open, her ears ringing and her cheeks burning as a small groan rumbled from his throat as he sucked her fingers clean. She felt like she had in her fantasy, unable to look away, gaze glued to his mouthwatering lips, to his devastating face as his black eyes stare right through her. Jude’s heart pounded; the lust raging and swirling in her belly was a living thing. All thoughts had left her head but him.

He finally pulled her fingers from his mouth and whispered to her.

“Do you still want me to get out?”

[ramblingguy54]

The First Temple: More Anne & Hop Pop Angst Ahoy!

I care about you too, Anne.

I mean, to an extent, right? You kind of proved that when you buried the music box.

The First Temple wasn’t just a good episode. 

I loved it a lot. It gave more screen time to show Anne & Hop Pop’s tension of feeling awkward and conflicted about everything that has transpired between them recently after the big lie being revealed previously. It adds more of an organic touch to their drama, rather than just have it happen off screen. That’s something I wanted to really see happen between Della & Louie after Timephoon’s emotionally charged ending was them still butting heads in Glomtales, but that didn’t occur at all. Della & Louie were split up for other story reasons and didn’t get to interact again, until Moonvasion. Really enjoying where they’re taking the dynamic between the family now because this seriously complements After The Rain’s episode and vice versa. It shows things aren’t going to be completely the same between Anne & Hop Pop in particular. Life in a family when big stuff happens isn’t so easily swept under the rug. Relationships like these can be an intense, bittersweet, and self reflective of whomever are causing these issues. Family can be a very rough, albeit worthwhile, journey depending on the circumstances of who raised you and how you interpret those experiences in the long run. Amphibia nailed this complicated topic with grace.

Anne forgiving Hop Pop at first isn’t out of character, but very much accurate to how compassionate she is as a person. However, letting her feelings simmer overnight after those events makes it more complicated for Anne hence the whole line of, “Well, maybe I spoke too soon.”,  to Hop Pop when these two started arguing back and forth about their issues of trust between each other. Anne laid down the truth of pretty much what I stated in my breakdown analysis of After The Rain. Hop Pop did care about Anne, but never enough to be 100% truthful about why he hid the enchanted music box. Like, damn, I love that they had her call him out on that because it’s a harsh truth. Regardless of whatever intentions Hop Pop had that were good, this guy still kept someone who has become practically family in the dark to more so protect his own biological relatives, which is understandable, but alienated Anne in the process. That’s gotta really hurt for someone who had thought she had found their own place in a family who more or less adopted her in a sense. When you’ve laid down your very life, as Anne did in Season 1 against her best friend Sasha, and find out Hop Pop wasn’t still the most trusting of her is some great angst to throw their way. Anne has a legit very good reason to stay mad at Hop Pop.

Every time you remind me of my mistakes!

The First Temple was a fantastic way to delve more into their issues. It could’ve been just another adventure for these two, but it went all the way in addressing their bigger problems. I felt for Hop Pop’s plea of forgiveness about wanting to make amends because lying to Anne and hurting the kid deeply only reminded this old man of his previous regrets before surrounding Sprig & Polly’s parents. He’s already got enough issues on his plate, so Hop Pop doesn’t want this whatsoever, but needed to respect Anne’s wishes as well for needing space. She’s been dealt a not so pretty hand about what stuff has happened to her, either. Anne’s had it rough of having to be away from her own reality, biological family, and what happened with Sasha in Season 1 still lingers in her mind.  Hop Pop lying to her all this time is like the cherry on top of all the shit that has happened. Anne wants things to be normal again in their family, but it just isn’t that easy for any of them. At the very least, them admitting out loud there’s still problems needing to be ironed out was heavily crucial for them to advance into becoming more understanding and trusting of each other for future events.

Amphibia’s drama impresses me time and time again about how much it explores the idea of found family, by showing its inner conflicts. The fact Anne called out Hop Pop hiding the box to protect his own family, rather than her, was simply a great rebuttal for his reasoning before, which I’m so happy they did. It makes for super effective drama about the issue of Hop Pop’s priorities over Anne. The First Temple is easily on my list of top favorite episodes from Amphibia because it shows a painful reality of found family and the idea of biological vs adopted relatives coming into play with Anne, Polly, and Sprig. Hop Pop got a serious taste of truth medicine about what it means to be a father.

This was a wonderful episode. Can’t wait to see where this goes next. 

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.21}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.8k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Tell me again." Cas demanded as she snatched a piece of bacon off Simon's plate, while keeping her piercing gaze fixed on Robin. "Why are you wearing way fancier clothes than normal?"

"I told you that I'm not telling you, and that's not going to change no matter how many times you ask." Robin shrugged, then subtly moved her own bacon over to Simon to compensate for his loss. The boy thanked her with a small smile, but obviously didn't dare to interrupt the girls' conversation with words. So Robin looked back to Cas. "You'll just have to wait and see like everyone else. Showing some patience will do you good."

"I do have a suspicion." Jorien smirked quietly while Cas just pouted, and Robin quirked an eyebrow at her, which however didn't bother the girl at all. "You don't have to glare at me, I didn't plan on telling anyone."

"Good." Robin replied in an equally quiet tone, but she couldn't help the feeling that Jorien knew a lot more than she let on. Even more than she should know, perhaps. Oh well… only time could confirm that.

"I honestly can't believe that Professor Snape is going to do our dancing class!" Cas finally got over herself and continued with her usual morning-ramble that never failed to entertain at least half of the table they were residing at that day. "I mean, I did watch him while he was dancing with Robin last year, but I honestly can't imagine how he's going to cope with people having to touch him. Melissa and I saw how Professor Sprout put her hand on his arm last week while deep in conversation, and he literally flinched away before giving her a death glare. If you ask me, that man has some serious problems."

"Who do you think he's going to force to dance with him?" Gideon asked with a humoured huff, and Robin suddenly found herself glad that she never spoke much during meals. That way at least nobody thought her oddly quiet on the issue.

"Oh gods, I have no idea." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and then sighed. "I'm bloody curious nonetheless. I literally can't imagine him actually dancing today in the first place, and hadn't I seen it before, I promise you I would be entirely convinced that he can't dance at all."

"I'm pretty sure the entire school watched him dancing at last year's ball… Who would've thought that was ever in the realm of possibility." Gideon shrugged, then glanced at Robin. "Say, why did you even agree to dance with our very own dungeon bat? I think you might just be the only one who ever did."

Robin thought for a second about telling them that she had been the one to ask him in the first place, but that wouldn't really fit in with his 'scary professor' image and she wouldn't dare scraping at that. So she settled for a different truth, which came out a bit more harshly than intended. "I will gladly dance with him again any time, if that's what you're wondering about, and I would choose him over any of the imbeciles who think it necessary to insult him to flatter their own meek egos. I haven't ever had a better partner, and it was I who was lucky to have that dance indeed, so until you can keep up with that, you'd better be keeping your noses in your own business."

The group was quiet for a moment, while everyone was obviously feeling scolded by Robin's words, but she didn't bother rectifying her intentions. Should they know that she didn't appreciate it when they spoke badly of Snape, or subjected themselves to pathetic gossip and rumour. The only one who looked rather amused by the entire thing was Jorien, which in return put fuel to Robin's belief that the girl knew more than her peers.

"So, what do you think Lisa is going to wear to the ball, huh? Not that hideous thing she showed us in the magazines, hopefully…" Cas finally broke the silence, changing the topic as easily as if the awkwardness before hadn't happened at all, and when everyone engaged in cheerful chatting again, Robin was honestly glad for the average student's shallow approach to conversation. Sometimes, it truly was a gift that other people didn't overthink quite as much as she did herself.

Breakfast went by quickly from there on, without any more disconcerting questions or topics other than the ordinary kind, and once the meal was officially over, the great hall became increasingly more vacant. When the boys finally went to leave, Robin got up as well, but instead of accompanying them to the exit, she made her way to the head table unseen by those whose eye she was trying to avoid, and then spent the next few minutes discussing the terms of their bullshit bingo with Snape. They intentionally engaged in this topic of conversation rather than discussing something of actual importance, such as the impending dancing instruction, for that would have reminded both of them of the uncomfortable truth that by lunch, the entire school would likely be talking about this. About them, dancing. Last night, neither of them really had thought about the consequences of having to hide just how close they were while being in the center of public display like this, but then again, it didn't change a thing now that they were suddenly hyper aware of all the very real students around them. Students who were taking more and more interest in the two black-clad figures standing where once the head table had been even after everyone else was gone. Robin's face was set in calm neutrality as always, just like Snape wore his usual scowl, but when they looked at each other once more for a brief moment of reassurance, Robin knew that they both had made their decision, and now they would go through with it. Happily, and without a hint of regret whatsoever. She almost would've smiled to herself when she turned back towards the students ahead of them, and mirrored his stance with her arms crossed behind her back while they watched the dunderheads in silence. Public display or not, this would be over soon, and she would enjoy it as good as possible.

When the hall was finally cleared of tables and seats, and it was just the fourth year Slytherins on one side and the Ravenclaws on the other, all it took was for Snape to move a few steps towards the middle of the hall for everyone to fall silent within seconds. The sheer power he held over people with his mere presence still gave Robin chills, but unlike the effect he had on everyone else in the room, those chills were very much pleasant ones for her. The neutrality on her face stayed set in stone nonetheless, and for a while she merely listened to him explaining the common ordeal much like McGonagall had, but with one subtle difference. She had explained dancing as a cultural custom, a form of etiquette much like properly using one's cutlery, with a clear focus on getting the movements right and sustaining a sense of elegance. Snape however had a bit of a different understanding of what it meant to dance, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the deeper meaning behind his not-quite-so shallow explanation; to him, dancing obviously was an art. It was like a dialogue without words, a mutual understanding of giving and taking with equal care and attention. A game of control and surrender, and yet of equality and trust. Foremost, it was all about one's partner, and not about upholding an outside appearance. That perhaps was the only part he worded quite as directly as Robin knew he meant it, but she had no idea how much of this actually got through to the students. Then again, what wasn't there to understand about the delicacy of a swift and smooth waltz? Going by the looks on the students' faces, obviously a lot.

After the unintentional poetry that seemed entirely wasted on most people currently present, Snape went on to explain the actual dance. Six basic steps, no more and no less, but Robin didn't particularly listen to that part for more than the constant flow of his voice. Instead, she sought out Cas and Jorien in the group of Slytherins, and as her eyes traveled over the students, she found herself surprised by just how many of the faces she had seen before. The vast majority of the fourth years was almost familiar to her at this point, and the rest at least somewhat recognizable. She'd never realized that she'd tutored almost all of them before. But what were their names again…? Good gods, her respect for her teachers grew an ineffable amount for memorizing hundreds upon hundreds of names like it was nothing. How did they do that anyway?

Lost in thought and silent question to herself, she missed the rousing of whispers around the room, the glances thrown at her, and was only drawn out of her head when Snape's voice suddenly sounded from right next to her.

"It is time." He said almost under his breath, in a soft tone that would very well betray his indifferent expression if anyone else would have heard but Robin. Then he offered a hand to her in a simple and silent question, which brought the faintest smile to Robin's lips in return. Of course he wouldn't actually ask, at least not with about fifty pairs of eyes fixed on them quite so intently.

"They're all staring at us…" She breathed with a hint of a smile, then placed her hand in his and ignored the surge of electricity that ran up her arm upon the brush of skin against skin. "Well, at least you have their fullest attention now."

"We do." He corrected quietly as he led her back to the middle of the hall, under the careful watch and quiet commentary of their students, before stopping short and drawing her closer to himself. Robin's hands found their destined places without conscious thought while Snape's did the same, and while she wanted to sigh at the gentle warmth of his palm pressing against her back, she also wanted to smile when he almost leaned into her touch in return. It wasn't a visible reaction, obviously, and neither did she give one herself, but rather a common feeling that fell over them like a soothing blanket of safety and belonging. Her thoughts didn't linger however when a soft music started playing out of nowhere as soon as they had found their positions, and with the easy grace that was to be expected of a proper waltz, they started moving through the wide space of the hall.

It really was quite like he had explained, a wordless dialogue spoken entirely with the eyes in a lingering gaze, and a fixed focus solemnly on each other in the shared movements of the dance. Before long Robin couldn't help smiling a little more brightly than her facade of neutrality could cover up for, but she honestly couldn't care less about it. How was she supposed to hide both her feelings for Snape AND the joy of dancing with him? Impossible. Thus, as it seemed, showing a bit of the lesser evil was the best she could do, and if she looked closely enough, he seemed to be fighting a similar war within himself.

It was much too soon when the musical piece floated to an end on its last notes, and they came to a stand in the middle of the room, which oddly enough had remained quite silent throughout the whole endeavour. Robin's chest was heaving ever so slightly –it had been a while since she'd gotten so much exercise– and she had trouble tearing her eyes away from his, even after the broken second it took her to remember the many students gawking at them. Her smile dimmed down the remaining bit back into neutral territory, she focused on calming her breathing, and finally also took a step backwards to an appropriate distance to her partner. The roaring fire inside of her however didn't dim down in the least, and as she held his gaze for a moment longer, she had no doubt he got a clear view of just that in her eyes. It made the corners of her lips quirk up for a fraction of a second, which elicited much the same reaction from him for an even shorter moment, before he finally turned back towards the students in complete professor mode and with the usual grandeur and billowing robes. Instead of smiling at his antics like she wanted to, Robin merely crossed her arms behind her back with his mirrored signature indifference painted on her face and thought about the last five minutes.

All in all, they had done remarkably well; to the students, it had been nothing but a factual demonstration of a dance, that much she could read on their faces now. It was odd, really, and oh so typical that all of Snape's and even her own microexpressions had gone unnoticed by the majority of students at least. If it hadn't, there surely would be more glances and whispers now. Instead, most of the students simply looked either bored or eager to start practicing themselves, and that really was as good an outcome as she could've hoped for. No one suspected a thing. Brilliant!

Snape briefly gave a few more instructions for the following practice session, effectively threatening everyone to stay in line, and while the students then more or less reluctantly paired up to try their luck, he came to stand next to Robin once again.

"Thank you for a perfect dance." His voice took on the same quiet tone as before, and Robin didn't miss the subtle brush of his arm against her shoulder as he moved past her. She had to smile before she could help it, while her poor pathetic heart skipped more than just one beat.

"Anytime." She breathed in return, and after the second it took her to get a grip on herself now again, they both went on to do just as planned; instructing the dunderheads in the art of dancing, and playing their little game of slightly modified bullshit bingo on the side.

It really was quite a blessing that McGonagall had given them the shorter time frame before lunch, for in no time at all it was nearing noon, and the lesson came to an end when the tables had to be put back into place for the meal. Funnily enough, the students' practice had been more than successful, and in comparison to Robin's memories, the young Slytherins and Ravenclaws had done a whole lot better now than the mixed Slytherin and Gryffindor students under McGonagall's tutelage back then. While the students settled down at the tables that were put back into place, Robin told Snape about her observation –not without a sense of pride, admittedly– and he seemed more than pleased with her words as well. Not that he would ever admit that much while in public, but Robin could tell by the not-smirk and the fairly smug expression he gave McGonagall when she showed up for lunch entirely oblivious to the conversation that had taken place seconds before. That, and he had won at their game by far, which also served to brighten his mood enough to actually show. Yes, for a more or less spontaneous dancing lesson on a gloomy Saturday morning, they really had done their very best, and had –against all odds– had quite a bit of fun on the side.

When the other professors started appearing at the head table in a shocking eagerness not for the impending lunch but for the hottest gossip about the recent dancing class, Robin took it as her cue to leave. She did feel sorry to leave Snape for their curiosity to prey on, but there was nothing she could do other than giving him an encouraging smile and say 'laters' in the hopes he would know that he still had their afternoon plans which he could look forward to. If he was remotely as happy about them as she was, that is. But then again, finishing their experimental potion and taking a walk in the snow were rather lovely prospects indeed.

With an almost defeated sigh, Robin finally made for the Ravenclaw table where Jorien and Cas had already taken a seat and were now chatting (or rather bickering) away like always.

"Hey guys… how'd you like the dancing?" She asked as she flopped down on the bench next to Jorien, for the space next to Cas was obviously reserved for the boys who had yet to appear. "Both of you did quite well, actually, if you'd fancy to hear my opinion on it."

The girls fell silent in but a second, and then continued to stare at Robin for a moment in an unspoken agreement that made her uneasy. Had she said something wrong? It was just supposed to be a compliment…

"Are we really doing this?" Cas asked in return, ignoring the previous question entirely.

"Yes we are." Jorien chuckled. "It's Robin, what did you expect?"

"Nothing but this, actually."

"Right?!"

"Guys!" Robin protested with a frown, and alternating glances between both of them. "What's going on? Explain."

"Did you know that you smiled while dancing with Snape?" Cas asked with a smug smile of her own. "Not enough for anyone else to take special notice of, obviously, but we've known you and your subtlety for years now. It was hard to miss that you actually smiled for once."

"And?" Robin raised an eyebrow at her in return, and she had a vague feeling where this conversation was going. Not good.

"You never smile." Cas replied with a huff in amusement. "You smirk, or sneer, but you never smile."

"Of course I smile! Quite often even." She defended herself immediately, but as she ran through her memories of instances where she'd knowingly smiled, she came to realize that the majority if not all of them had been in the sole company of one potions professor. Oh dear.

"You don't, Robin. Hardly ever, and even then it's not like an actual happy smile. Nor is it sincere like this one." Jorien added in a bit more mildly, but no less amused. "It was nice to see what you look like when you truly enjoy yourself."

The heat crept up and along Robin's neck and onto her cheeks in an instant, while the churning of her stomach grew a bit too strong to merely indicate a timely desire for lunch. Bloody hell, she hadn't really thought about how the girls might perceive the situation… they did know her a lot better than any of the other students indeed, and that might very well lead to some unforeseen consequences. It already had, obviously. Damnit.

"Well, and so what? I did enjoy myself a lot while dancing, yes. I already told you during breakfast that he's the best partner I've ever had, so logically I do enjoy dancing with him. Otherwise I'd hardly have volunteered to help him with the lesson." She tried to shrug it off like she often did when she didn't want to talk about an issue. Playing things down, and distracting the opponents by giving small chunks of the truth on other areas. "He's my friend, of course I'd help him with the class. Especially when McGonagall just asked him to do it out of the blue last night."

"Oh, so he's your friend now, huh?" Cas grinned, and Jorien smacked her in the shoulder across the table, much to the blond girl's irritation. "What, I didn't say anything wrong! Before now, Robin always rather made a point of it that they're just working together."

"It's not supposed to become known that we're friends, alright? It might give people the wrong impressions, so keep your voices down, yes?" Robin gave both girls a pointed look, and they reluctantly nodded in agreement. "So, perhaps I did smile while dancing with him. I like him, and I like dancing with him. Is there an issue with that?"

"No!" Cas replied in an instant, with rising eyebrows and an apologetic expression. "Of course not, rather on the contrary!"

Robin gave her a questioning frown in return, but before she could make an attempt to ask just what she meant by that, Jorien jumped in.

"What Cas means is that it's nice to know that you two are close to each other." She said with a diplomatic expression, then however with a smirk at Robin. "And it certainly explains why the years of trying to get you to date someone were entirely wasted."

"I don't see how that correlates." Robin replied flatly, with a too perfect neutral facade to actually be indifferent, and both younger girls snorted in an instant.

"Oh come on!" Cas was back at grinning widely, but at least she kept her voice down like she'd been asked to. "You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't tell us that you're not totally crushing on him!"

"Ballroom dancing is the most open expression of sexuality the past times had to offer, and you two are honestly the perfect example of it. Quite rude of you though, to lie when we asked you about your crushes on your birthday…" Jorien added in with a smirk and one raised eyebrow that reminded Robin too much of herself. "Because whatever this is between you and him, it's certainly been going on for a lot longer than that."

"I didn't lie." Robin defended herself quietly. She was slowly running out of ideas for how to get out of this situation without anyone taking too much damage in the process. "I never lie. You guys know that."

"I still don't believe you. You're extremely subtle about it, I'll give you that, but you definitely act differently around him than with anybody else I've ever seen you with." Cas stated it as a matter of fact that didn't leave any room for Robin to effectively protest while sticking to the truth. "I don't remotely understand why, and it really is quite weird to think about, but you are definitely attracted to him. Why don't you just admit to what we already know anyway?"

"I do not have a crush, okay?!" Robin's patience was wearing thinner and thinner the more students filed into the room who might overhear the conversation. It was bad enough that her roommates had caught onto matters; she didn't need the rest of the school to know as well. Least of all the person in discussion. "Just leave it be."

"I really don't know why you're being so defensive about it." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "In an odd way it's really kinda cute. You and him, I mean. You're pretty similar to each other. The more I think about it, the more I ship it."

"I don't even want to know what that means, but will you please just shut up about it now?" Robin groaned under her breath and resisted the temptation to rest her face in her hands in despair. That would draw way too much unwanted attention to her now. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"To be honest, I also think you're a good match." Jorien shrugged, but her words were spoken in all honesty no less. "Definitely uncommon, but rather sweet indeed. I've always wondered who on earth might be able to keep up with you, but I guess I've been too blind to see the answer right in front of me."

"I cannot believe you two!" Robin scoffed in sincere discomfort now. Why on earth did they have to torture her like that, after already finding out a secret she'd been hiding perfectly well for over four bloody years?! "You really are being ridiculous, just listen to yourselves. What on earth would he want with me, huh? Remember who you are talking about; it's a miracle that he deems me bearable enough to be my friend in the first place."

"So you do admit to having a crush on him then?"

"Stop. It. Now." Robin hissed at Cas with a glare that made the girl squirm in her seat. "I do not have a crush on anyone, and if you little chits refuse to stop nagging me about it, you will have to find yourselves a new tutor who puts up with your nonsense."

Yes, lashing out at them wasn't really the fairest thing to do, Robin was well aware of that. But she was hurt and annoyed and honestly, they would have forgotten about it by dinnertime already anyway. She just couldn't take any more tinder to the stupid flame of hope that was just roaring back to life now, especially not after last night. She had to trample and suffocate it right in this instant, before she would burn herself and quite possibly drag some collateral right down into the depth of destruction with her. So yes, it was an overreaction to their usual teenage behaviour, but it was a necessary overreaction to keep at least part of her sanity intact.

"I understand." Jorien was the first to speak up for once, and the smile and ease on her face made way for seriousness. "I understand that we were wrong about assuming that you have a crush on him; he's only your best friend, and you don't crush on your best friend. After all, you told us that much on your birthday already, and you don't ever lie."

"Yes! Thank you!" Robin rolled her eyes at her own scoff, but somehow the girl's words only now sunk in when it was too late already.

"Huh… so that's why you never told us who your best friend was. I admit, it all makes an odd amount of sense now that the two pieces become one." Jorien said with a surprised little huff, but Robin only took notice of how her own body became dead weight with a start. Her thoughts were tumbling over each other in panic and confusion and the growing urge to run, while Cas merely frowned at her in confusion. The hall was too warm all of a sudden, and void of air to breathe.

"You tricked me." Robin's lips formed the words without her conscious intention. "If I wasn't quite so furious about it, I would be proud."

"Well, I just put the pieces together." Jorien replied with an almost triumphant half smile. "And it's not like you were ever going to tell us. But I just had to know."

"Of course you did." Robin's voice came out cold and sharp and still somewhat indifferent, for now the pain and anger were gone with a start. She just felt numb, and perhaps a little betrayed. No, actually a lot.

"So… what?" Cas frowned at both of them in confusion. "Who's who now? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sure Jorien will explain it to you. She's got it all figured out now, doesn't she…" Robin replied coldly and tried to get up from the bench at last, to get out of this situation even at the cost of her own lunch, but a surprisingly strong grip held her down. Damn her short legs, really… why on earth did a fifteen year old have to be taller than her?

"Don't go… please, I'm sorry." Jorien said, and at least she sounded sincerely apologetic as she removed her hand from Robin's arms. "I didn't mean to upset you. Really. I just… I had to know if I was right."

Something in Robin deflated at the girl's sad words and pale blue eyes, and she slumped back down in her seat with a sigh. Damn her own empathy… damn the parts of herself she kept seeing in her. She just wanted to be mad in peace, but with Jorien apologising and Cas entirely confused, she found that she could uphold neither the numbness nor the anger.

"Sometimes being right isn't as nice as it seems." Robin finally said, but she didn't look at Jorien even once while doing so. "I'd gladly be wrong sometimes just to spare people the pain of truth."

"I didn't consider that."

"I know. Try to think about the reasons people keep things to themselves the next time you figure out their personal matters." She sighed, and while Jorien nodded, Robin turned to Cas. "And you… perhaps it'll help you to know that I only have and ever had one friend who isn't currently a student here."

"I still don't get it." Cas frowned with a rather helpless expression, and while Robin just sighed in defeat again, Jorien climbed over the still empty table in sheer annoyance, then grabbed her friend by the tie and aggressively whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide. So much for secrets, really… at least she was hissing quietly.

"So…" Cas started, with a weary and yet astonished expression, while Jorien climbed back over the table into her own seat. "You didn't lie after all. You really don't just have a crush on him…"

"I'm not saying a single word more on the matter." Robin shut her straight back down and finally got a grip on her emotions, forcing them all into submission and behind the neutrality. It didn't actually matter that they knew; they had kept quiet about her secrets before, and they would do it again now. They knew better than to mess with her, didn't they?

"You don't have to say anything." Jorien replied with a sigh, as she flopped back down in her seat. "But I think you're wrong if you think that he doesn't feel the same way about you. If he knows it or not."

"Yeah, just take the way he looks at you…" Cas added, while Robin kept on pretending to ignore both of them. "Like you're the answer to the universe's greatest questions nobody but him yet dared to ask."

"Cas! That's an oddly fitting description for the complexity of the issue, I'm thoroughly impressed!" Jorien smiled at her friend with an incredulous frown; obviously Robin wasn't the only one surprised by Cas' sudden string of poetic wisdom.

"Oh, those are Simon's words actually." Cas shrugged easily. "He's said a few times how S-... someone always looks at Robin like that, but I always dismissed it as him trying to be funny. Well, until I saw it for myself today. And he is SO right about it, he'll love that."

"You are not telling Simon about any of this." Robin snapped before she could help it. Damn her fast mouth, honestly, but this was not going anywhere else from here!

"But-..."

"No."

"He's-..."

"No."

"Fine." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then leaned forward onto her arms that she had crossed on the tabletop. "But honestly Robin, you spend every day and night with him, he lets you use his classroom and his lab and he willingly goes on all those weird excursions with you… I doubt that there's anything he wouldn't do for you, now that I think about it."

"You probably have him all wrapped around your finger. You're just too oblivious or too deep in denial to see it." Jorien added with a smirk a mere second later, and Cas nodded in agreement.

"I wish to extend my previous statement: neither of us is losing another word about this from now on!" Robin stated, then motioned towards the entrance. "The boys are finally moving their lazy arses over here, and I officially declare the previous topic to be over and done with for now and the future."

"Fine. For now." Jorien shrugged, then gave Robin another pointed look. "But remember our words, at least: There is literally nothing that man wouldn't do for you, and we all know there is only one reason for that. You don't have to believe us, but at least give the reality around you a chance before burying yourself in all those delusions you hide behind. You aren't the type to let fear control your life, so open your eyes for God's sake!"

Robin glowered at Jorien until Cas kicked her under the table, giving both of them an overly cheerful but obviously feigned smile, which made Robin redirect her scowl indeed. Jorien however just snorted at Cas' expression, then Cas started chuckling as well, and finally Robin couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips either. They were horrible, really, a bunch of bloody dunderheads, but they also were annoyingly supportive sometimes. False hope they were giving her or not, it at least made Robin happy that her friends were trying to help her. And if they were so easily accepting of the subject of her affections, even if he wasn't technically someone they liked much, they really must care about her wellbeing and happiness quite a bit to still push her in that direction. That thought, the fact that they actually cared, was a good enough outcome of the conversation; the rest would do well to stay buried in the shadows where it belonged. Delusions or not.

"Ladies…" Gideon greeted them with a large grin as he sat down on the bench next to Cas, making it quiver even as Simon took a seat on the girl's other side. "Good noon to you all."

"Your good mood is disgusting." Michael grumbled as he took on his usual perch next to Jorien, who greeted him with a mere nod. She still managed to politely maneuver around any and every of his advances without a word, and by now he had mostly given up on it and moved on to try for a casual friendship like he had with everyone else instead. Didn't change the fact that Michael looked positively pissed at Gideon, and glared at him from across the table now. "He's already finished his bloody charms essay and keeps rubbing it in our faces."

"Prideful, are we? How terribly Slytherin of you, especially for a Ravenclaw." Robin smirked at Gideon, and the remainder of the group chuckled in agreement. Yeah, they really were a big bunch of dunderheads. But sometimes, in little moments like this, Robin found that she didn't actually mind being one of them.

______________________________

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[hellotvshowtrash]

Obey pt. 3

Part 3 time!!! Not too much happens in this chapter, but I really like it tbh. Also once again posting from mobile so sorry if the formatting is weird.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing

*tbh this gif is 100% Elijah laughing at drunken reader in this chap.*

Credit to gif owner

The cool night air was welcomed on her flushed skin. She started her trek home robotically, only getting a few yards away when she was stopped. "Let me walk you home, you're drunk and it could be dangerous," Elijah grabbed her arm from behind, gently pulling her to look back at him.

"I think I'm okay, thanks though," she said, "I walk this route pretty often. Besides, I'm not even really drunk anymore. You took care of that." She winked at him and turned back to continue walking, but he held her arm firm in his grasp.

"I insist," he said with more authority.

She slowly turned back to him, eyebrows raised. "You insist? You insist on following me back to my house so you can know where I live? You don't call the shots here," she pointed her index finger onto his chest. Anger clouded her features, no longer the seductress she had been. She had switched into survival mode in the blink of an eye. Elijah released her arm, surprised.

"Y/N," he muttered, "I overheard two men in the bar talking about following you." He looked into her eyes, "now I insist you let me walk you home," her eyes widened as he spoke, and then she shook her head quickly.

"Only because you heard those guys." She searched his eyes for the truth, but she found confusion instead. She began to walk again quickly, not waiting for him to catch up even though he did very quickly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"I should tell you.. I don't normally do that sort of thing," he said, trying to strike up a conversation.

She snorted in response, "Yeah, well, I do." And she rolled her eyes. Usually her flings were easier than this. They'd let her go without a fight. But it seemed like Elijah wanted to be around her. Her heart started to warm at the possibility that someone might care enough to break through her walls until she crushed that thought and reminded herself of her vow. "No one will ever treat me like that again," her thoughts seemed loud and Elijah looked at her.

"What did you say?" He whispered to her. She looked at him, confused and realized she had spoken her vow aloud. His eyes held a type of curious concern, and she couldn't decipher his intentions. That infuriated her.

"Nothing, just.. just stop talking," she clenched her fists. She was becoming uneasy with the amount of time she was spending with the man, after already achieving her goal with him. Elijah grabbed her arm and the memory of that night all those years ago flashed in her mind again for a quick second. She pulled her arm away with a gasp. She looked at him, the emotional pain evident on her face. His eyes held horror and pity, almost as if he remembered the memory with her. Fire burned in her as eyes she looked at him. Elijah had never been scared of a human before, but this one would do what it took to survive. A few tense seconds passed before her shoulders fell and she continued walking.

"I'm too tired for this right now," she said quietly. Pulling himself together, Elijah followed. He matched her pace and stuffed one of his hands into his suit pants pocket.

"I live close to here, if you would li-", he started but Y/N cut him off with a glare.

"I don't know who you think you are, but this," she stopped again and pointed back and forth between them "was a one time thing. I plan on never seeing you again. Thanks for some good dick, but I'm done with you now. I can make it home perfectly fine by myself."  She started walking once again. This time Elijah held back and raised his eyebrows as he watched her go. He was intrigued by her, by her past and he wanted to know more.

She on the other hand, had no interest in him whatsoever, although... he had something weird about him. The way he tried to command her to do things, and then seemed confused or annoyed when she didn't immediately comply. Or the blood on her neck after their sexcapade in the bathroom. She touched her hand to her neck as she walked and felt the puncture wounds that had started to scab. Handsome, and charming and dark. She didn't fear him by any means, she was determined to never fear a man again, but there was something dark within him and she didn't know if she had the means to combat it.

She looked over her shoulder as she walked home, and he was gone.

—

"So, who is Elijah?" Y/N asked drunkenly. It was toward last call at the bar a few weeks later and Sophie was wiping down the hard wood surface. Sophie rolled her eyes and looked at Y/N.

"You're here, drunk, asking about some guy instead of going home with your newest conquest. What gives?" Sophie took the empty glass that was between them and put it behind the bar. "Besides, if I told you who he is, you wouldn't believe me." Sophie said, quieter than before.

"I'm just interested, is all. He showed me a good time," Y/N slurred. She had lied to herself. She was interested and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

"He's not your type. Actually, I don't think you have a type. You’ll fuck just about any man that breathes," Sophie grumbled.

The comment stung Y/N and she furrowed her eyebrows, "did someone shit in your Cheerios this morning? You're being a bitch," Sophie's jaw dropped as Y/N spoke. Y/N didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

"Out. Now." Sophie pointed at the door of the bar. Y/N started laughing as if Sophie was joking. "Get out."

Y/N stopped laughing and her face fell. "Aww come on, Soph. I'm just drunk it's fine," Y/N started to move off of her bar stool and tripped, almost tumbling to the ground. She started laughing again as Sophie stood her ground and watched her leave. Y/N stumbled onto the city street in the dark morning. Still laughing to herself, she began her walk home. She tripped over her own feet and began to fall to the ground, extending her arms out to catch herself, but the ground never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. She looked up and saw two handsome, identical men. No, there was only one, she clarified for herself. She was much more drunk than she thought she was.

"Llllijah?" She slurred. He sighed and brought her back up to her feet.

"You're lucky I happened to be passing by," he told her.

"I can take care of m'self," she said, her eyes partially closed. He couldn't help but smile at how feisty she was, even in her current state. She pulled away from him and started walking again. "What, are you stalking me?" She spun around to face him, attempting to walk backwards and successfully falling on her butt in the middle of the street. Elijah rolled his eyes as she laid down on the ground, groaning. "Mm llliijah, look at the stars!" She weakly lifted her hand, pointing loosely at the sky. Elijah looked up toward the sky and was astonished to be able to see the stars so well. He looked back down at Y/N, her eyes glued to the stars. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. He stripped off his suit jacket put it over Y/N as he lowered himself to the cold street ground to lay next to her. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars with her.

"I've been thinking about you lately," he said to her quietly. She stayed still, continuing to look at the stars. A small diamond of a tear slid down her cheek but went unseen as Elijah continued. "I don't know you. And you don't know me. But, I think I'd like to take the time to know you," he slowly reached his hand to meet hers. She jerked her hand away and stood hastily, breathing fast. The coat slid off of her and unto the ground.

"Elijah, I don't know who you think you are. I am wild. I am fire. I am my own, and I will never be anyone's, ever again." her fight or flight response had sobered her up rather quickly and the fire in her eyes burned brightly. Elijah got up from the street, moving slowly.

"I quite enjoy your wild ferocity," he put his hands up in defense, trying to slowly move toward her. "I don't want you to be afraid or in pain," The walls around her heart were tall and dense, and he had the urge to tear them down and see her as she truly was. He couldn't help but feel that she would make one hell of a vampire.

Her chest rose and fell heavily. The single tear she had shed turned to multiple streaming down her cheeks and she ignored them. His eyes held a promise to her, one she didn't understand and was frustrated with. He owed her nothing, she owed him nothing. They were nothing. They were just two strangers. "I am not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of anyone. If anything, I'm the one people should be afraid of," she lifted her head defiantly.

His eyes held hers, his promise still in them. A glint of amusement flashed on his face. "I should be afraid of you?" He practically laughed at the idea and truth be told, Y/N’s bravery was faltering. He used to seem harmless, noble, a gentleman. As the conversation progressed, he seemed to become devilish and dark. Simultaneously dangerous and attractive. He took a step toward her but she held her ground, her chin still raised. He lifted his hand to her cheek and caressed her soft skin. She almost melted into his warm touch but held her ground. "You are fire. You are wild. You are your own. But I would like you to be mine as well," he wrapped his free arm around her waist, his other hand still caressing her cheek. She gasped and held onto him, suddenly off balance. Their eye contact hadn't broken once. "Let me show you what you could have if you chose me."

She puffed her chest out as he held her, recomposing herself. "I am not one to be tamed, Elijah. I wasn't born to obey or to let someone else be in control. I'm the one calling the shots here, not you." His eyes grew darker, and she couldn't tell if she was seeing things in the moonlight or if they had actually changed colours.

He leaned down, his face level with hers now and he breathed gently into her ear. He spoke softly, almost a whisper.

"Are you challenging me?"

-

Always taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @soul-revoir @akshi8278

Obey taglist: @njeancastro316 @alien-sida-2 @mikaelson-emma @raemikaelson @kpopgirlbtssvt @within-thehollowcrown @its-a-simply-me-thing bold means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!

[tomthesoftie]

the right decision pt. 2

❧ prompt: you and tom grew up together but always as enemies — nothing more, nothing less. as you grow older, you must realize it’s time to be mature. you either must throw tom out of your life or take him in as an ally. which will you choose?

❧ pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader x prince!park jimin

❧ genre: angst, barely any fluff, e2l

❧ warnings: light swearing, slight verbal abuse (nothing too heavy, only degradation), heartbreak ?

❧ a/n: lmao there are so many hidden symbols in this fic except some are revealed so i’ll explain the color symbols in this fic: orange is the change of attraction, pink is romance, and purple is the two characters coming to peace with each other. also this is a bit longer than what i usually write so ;P hopefully the second part makes up for the shitty first chapter lmao. shit, i was originally not going to write a third part but umm... shit. ok see you in the third chapter lmao smh

← chap. 1     chap. 3 →

masterlist                     prompt list

In your white organza, you let your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the gorgeously growing gardenias. Your dress flows with your movement as you step forward, observing the chrysanthemums. Looking as perfect as usual, you moved ahead to observe your candytufts. All flowers were white, like your dress. 

Truthfully, how you obtained these enchanting flowers still puzzles you. They just suddenly appeared one day when you were considering doing something with the empty space the flowers had suddenly occupied in the garden. However, you don’t care. The flowers are perfect.

Life has become quiescent ever since Tom has left you alone, almost to the point you regret pushing him away. Of course, there was a reason to why you acted the way you did. It was time for you to mature, and Tom wasn’t helping that growth whatsoever. Although the more you think about it, the more you realize that you could’ve taken him in as an ally. You couldn’t avoid him forever, and neither could he. Eventually the two of you would grow to rule your kingdoms as king and queen.

Shaking off the growing feelings of regret, you twirl back to the kingdom, hair whipping around with you. Taking one last breath of the fresh air surrounding you, you drag your heavy body back into the same, old, stodgy castle you’ve been living in for years. 

To your surprise, a handmaiden is waiting for you, instructing you to follow her on behalf of the king, your father. Leading you to the doors of the dining hall, she adjusts and cleans off your dress, combing your hair until it neatly falls onto your shoulders.

“She’s ready,” you hear the handmaiden whisper to the tall standing butler before quickly rushing off.

“Madam,” he says sticking his arm out as the door opens, “Her royal highness, Princess Y/N L/N.”

Awkwardly curtsying in your dress, you look up to see unfamiliar faces sat across your parents’. The first face to draw in your attention is a man that looks young — a bit older than you but almost your age. Suddenly standing, the man bowed, no words spoken. You smile awkwardly before moving to take the seat beside your mother and across from the man. 

“Ah,” the woman sitting across from your mother spoke, “how nice it is to finally meet you.”

You smiled warmly, though forcibly. Your hands rest in your lap, each finger toying with the other. You look down at your manicured hands, taking a moment to put together the pieces, but nothing came to mind. Looking up in frustration, your eyes meet the man across from you. He looks angelic.

His silver hair and pale skin made him look soft. Not only that but his eyes are enchanting. They are a beautiful crystal blue color, reeling you in like you are under a spell. He has plump, pink lips, glistening every time he licks them. 

You hear someone clear their throat, “May I introduce King Park and Queen Park of South Korea and their son, Prince Park Jimin.”

 Looking around expectedly, waiting for your father or mother to speak up, you are only met with eyes staring at you.

“O-Oh,” you cough gingerly, “It’s a honor to meet you, King Park and Queen Park.” Looking over at the silver-haired boy, you shyly smile, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Park.”

He smiles, and you feel your heart clench at the sight, “And I, you, Princess L/N.”

He stands as you do, bowing to you before stretching a hand out for yours. Hesitantly, you place your hand gently in his and watch as he lightly kisses the back of your hand. Sitting back down, you feel heat rising to your cheeks as your thumb strokes the tingling sensation on the back of your hand. 

“Great,” your father quips, “Now that we’ve familiarized ourselves, let’s talk about the marriage.”

At the word, your head snaps up to look at your father. Your gaze seems to be searching for something, a sign that tells you that your ears are deceiving you. Sadly, nothing suggests that your ears are wrong. 

For the rest of the discussion, you’re not in your body, soul floating about and out of the kingdom. What pulls you back to reality is the sensation of the chair attempting to be pulled out from underneath you.

Abruptly, you stand up, curtseying the Park Royalty goodbye.

“See you soon, princess,” Jimin says, exchanging the title for a cheeky nickname, before kissing the back of your hand once more but letting his lips linger longer. 

You blush away from his touch and give him a shy smile as you watch his slim figure slip out of the large doors.

Once the family is no longer in your sight, you burst at your parents, “Marriage? Seriously?” 

You are infuriated. You never expected to be married off to some stranger, nonetheless at such a young age. You had just turned 21, for fucks sake. Moreover, they didn’t even consider discussing the situation beforehand.

“Look, darling,” your mother places a delicate hand on your cheek, “We’re growing old and soon we won’t be able to protect this kingdom. We need to pass it on to someone more reliable and trustworthy.”

“Yeah, then pass it on to me. Just me,” you clarify.

“As much as I’d love to do that, you know it’s not possible. You’re not possibly strong enough on your own,” she gives you sympathetic eyes.

“I’m- Excuse me? Not only are you stripping away my freedom of choosing my own significant other, but you’re now degrading me?” You snap, seeing red. 

“You know that’s not what I mean-” your father cuts your mother off.

“Enough! We gave you a chance already,” he huffs, anger rising as well.

“What chance? Vincent? If I had known that-”

“Vincent? That silly boy? No, that was show enough that you can’t choose the right people to help rule this kingdom, but albeit that wasn’t your chance. There’s someone else that’s been beside you all your life. It’s been planned for ages, and you just had to go off and ruin it,” your father roars.

“Who else is there? My handmaidens?” You laugh sarcastically, tears filling your eyes.

“Think, you foolish child! If you can’t even figure out who it is, you definitely won’t be able to rule a kingdom alone,” you shake angrily at your father’s debasing words.

Thinking as hard as you can through your sorrowful rage, a face pops into your head.

Tom.

“Has it finally clicked yet?” Your father’s voice breaks your trance.

“Tom,” you whisper, weakly.

Without any other words, he nods, escorting your mother and himself out of the room, leaving you to think to yourself. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a handmaiden spoke up, “would you like us to prepare anything? Like a bath or supper?”

Shaking your head, you dismissed her, thoughts racing in your head.

It suddenly got all too stuffy to be staying in the kingdom. You had to get out. You had to breathe in the fresh air of the wet grass, old, growing trees, and your precious flower garden.

Moving as fast as your heel-clad feet could take you, you rush out and towards your white flowers when you notice a silhouette standing above them, watering them.

His brunette locks shine in the golden light of the setting sun. As you move closer, you can see his well-constructed body through his garments. What he wore wasn’t anything special, just a white button down and grey trousers. 

“Did you know?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Of course I knew,” he replies, quietly, voice soft to soothe you.

“Why didn’t you-” you felt yourself choke on your words, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you into falling for me,” he simply shrugs, hands playing with your flowers. “Although, seeing where we are now, I can’t say that what I did has encouraged us towards marriage.”

Standing in silence together, the pair of your stare at the flowers, the white of the petals turning orange, then pink, and then purple, following the shifting colors of the sky. 

“I’ve missed you,” you suddenly blurt out.

Tom turns his head to face you, “I’ve missed you as well, darling.”

Tears erupt from your eyes, and you fall into Tom’s chest, arms wrapping around his torso.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I didn’t mean what I said at the ball. I don’t know what got into me.”

You felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s alright, darling,” he sighs, hand rubbing the arch of your back.

“It’s not. What I said was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you shake your head, hair sticking onto your wet skin.

“I forgive you, darling. Please stop crying,” he says sweetly before pulling back to wipe away your tears.

You look at him with glistening, doe eyes. Your hair is a wild mess, and the minimal makeup you wore had smudged off, revealing your natural beauty.

“Do you want to know something about your flowers?” Tom asks, trying to change the subject and cheer you up.

Nodding, you give him a silent answer.

“These,” he points at your chrysanthemums, “mean truth,” next, the candytufts, “indifference, and finally, my favorite,” the gardenias, “secret love.” He looks over to see your sparkling eyes of fascination, “Ever wonder how you got these?”

“Yes, I wonder every time I see them. Do you know who or how?” You ask, completely oblivious to the fact that he knows you didn’t personally request for the flowers to be planted.

He chuckles, “It was I, darling.”

You turn to face him in shock, “You?”

“Let me explain,” he smiles, “I first sent these to you when I realized my feelings for you. The gardenias represented my hidden love for you, the white chrysanthemums represented that I was going to tell you soon, and the candytufts represented you and your indifference for my feelings. You were perfect. You are perfect,” he corrects himself, “Then, when you started Vincent, I became jealous, and I was mad that you chose the man that you had barely known over me. I was beside you all of your life, yet you chose him,” Tom’s face contorts in jealousy. “I became bitter, and whenever I saw you, I saw him. He was always beside you. I treated you more harshly because of him, but when I heard news of your breakup, I immediately regretted the way I treated you. I should’ve protected you, rather than ignoring you.”

With eyes of awe, you whisper to yourself, “Tom likes me?”

“I’d say ‘love,’ but if you’re more comfortable with ‘like’ then I happy that you’re happy,” he chuckles.

You warm smile drops, “I’m sorry I treated you with such dislike. If I’d known, I would’ve respected you.”

The smug look on his face drops as well, “Does this mean you don’t feel the same way about me?”

“Well, to be honest, Tom, up until a couple weeks ago, I thought we had a mutual hate, but I do think that I have potential feelings for you that are slowly but surely arising. Although, even if we wanted to be together, it would be impossible,” you look down at your hands, tears developing in your quivering eyes at the mention of the arranged marriage.

He smiles lamentably, “I know.”

The two of you stand in silence, heads hanging in despair. None of you have anything else to say, only there to enjoy being in each others presence. You only move when you hear sniffles that don’t belong to you.

“Tom?” You say his name, hopelessly. Not receiving a response from him, you look up to see his shaking figure. “Oh, Tommy,” you coo, taking him into your arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you rub his back, face snuggled in the crook of his neck.

You let Tom sob in your arms until he ran out of tears to cry. When he finally collects himself and is in the right state of mind, again, he places a gentle kiss to your cheek before running off and leaving you to yourself in your dark garden.

You look up at the sky. The sun is already long gone, and the stars have come out to play with the moon. A tear falls down your cheek, left with confused feelings and a broken heart.

Jimin sits on the marble seat of his balcony, staring up at the dark sky, wondering what you were up to at the moment. He was infatuated with you at first glance; your beauty lures and traps him. 

Jimin smiles at the twinkling stars, a sense of thrill flowing through him.

There were three stars that shone especially brightly that night. One of said stars twinkled its last day, falling unannounced, leaving the one star sad and confused and the other excited and ready.

[mamsellechosette24601]

In the Green vs the real Hildegard's writings and philosophy

Because of “In the Green”, I started reading a bit about Hildegard and her thinking so as to better explore the themes of the musical. I read the book “Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader", by Carmen Acevedo Butcher, which was short and insightful, with lots of excerpts from Hildegard, so I’ll share what I got from it in relation to the musical.

1. The symbolism of the colour green and of the sun

"Hildegard called this vigor viriditas, the “green” energy of agape love pulsing through the entire universe. Over and over in her writings, she chooses viriditas to express God’s vitality and the ways His goodness and love charge the whole world with life, beauty, and renewal—literally, with “greenness.” Her unique, creative use of this Latin word makes it something of a neologism in her work. In Hildegard’s mind, viriditas was first found in the green of the garden of Eden, but it is also the green of whatever twig you or I happen to be looking at in this present moment, whoever we are, wherever we may be. She knew that the natural opposite of this “greening” energy was spiritual desiccation (including what we often call “depression”). But, like God’s mercy, His revitalizing viriditas has no limits. Wherever Hildegard looked, she saw that this “green” force animates every creature and plant on this planet with verdant divine love."

"The patriarchs and prophets who prefigured and predicted Christ were the “roots” of God’s divine tree, on which sprouted the most delicate “bud,” who is God’s Son, and from Him grew the “fruit” of the virtues: Humility, Charity, Divine Love, Patience, and their sisters. This is a favorite metaphor for Hildegard, and in her songs she praises the Virgin Mary as the “twig” or “branch” on which the “bud,” baby Jesus, flowered. By her intelligent selection of this one word, oculus, Hildegard has shown the center of her work—that to see God is to grow."

"In one of this volume’s poems praising Mary, “Grateful for the Unobtrusive Good,” Hildegard’s use of metaphors suggests that she saw no separation between symbol and fact. Metaphors were reality to her. Hildegard’s point in this song is that the divinely made sun giving earth life is also, in a mystical way, the life-giving Son of God who as the Word made creation’s every twig, including Mary, and yet was also Mary’s “Bloom”(…) In this song to Mary, the sun (also God’s Spirit) shines on the Virgin Mary, the “greenest twig.” She is a twig, not even a branch; but she is green with God’s pregnant vitality, and her comparative insignificance (as a woman, and unmarried) prepares her for the greatness of God’s Spirit to grow within her and produce the miraculous “flowering” of God’s divine-human Son. Her weakness is her strength, a recurring theme in Hildegard."

So, when Jutta sings “I can see the last of the light / Reflected in the green / Of everything”and we know what is going to happen, we’re supposed to cry at the distortion of life’s goodness

Sun Song gains a much more religious meaning, when we see everything that the sun and nature meant for Hildegard. In her “Book of Divine Works”, the Holy Spirit says: "I’m the divine flame of life, I burn above the golden fields, I sparkle on water, and I shine like the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Together with the loving, hidden power of the wind, I make everything come alive. Remember that I’m also Reason. I inform the wind of the first Word that created all things. I’m your breath, I’m the breath of all things, and none die because I am that Life." (should I read into In the Green’s “Air leaves my lungs/ I’m lying on my back / I’m staring at the sky / I open up my mouth but the air swallows my cry”? Jutta was forsaken by God, completely).

Death Ceremony, with its translation of “O Viridissima Virga”, introduces us to Jutta’s and Hildegard’s quest away from Eve’s curse and towards the Virgin Mary. The “little green branch” seeks the “branch of freshest green”, instead of rotting.

The idea of strength in weakness, which the Hildegards find in First Verb, appears, together with the aforementioned notions of the “green” and the “bud”, in Hildegard’s “Play of the Virtues”. "The virtues and the souls: 'When the world began, everything pulsed with life and was the tenderest shade of green.Flowers blossomed everywhere. But, after the Fall, everything green faded." The Warrior-of-Truth saw it all and said: 'I see what happened, but my house is not yet full. Look at me instead. I’m the image of your Father. Know my broken body broken for you. I’m exhausted. I’m tired of being made a laughing-stock. It goes straight through me. Even my followers lose heart. But remember this. The original abundance of green did not have to shrivel up, and your faith will see its way to strength, until you know the divinity of my jewel-covered body intimately, a gem in each injury, and each injury a bud. Look, Father! See my wounds? Now, let people everywhere kneel before God the Father, who’ll hand us strength on strength." 

2. Hildegard’s “Scivias”, where she first shares her divine visions vs Jutta

In “Scivias” Hildegard writes a metaphor of the sinning soul. Turning away from God and towards sin (the “North”), the soul speaks “I regret that so much now! For I was captured, robbed, blinded, and violated. My garment was torn. I was dragged to a gruesome place and subjected to the worst kind of slavery”.

Then the soul repents, and hides in a cave, like Jutta hid in the Undergound: “After I’d said this, I went down the narrow path and hid from the eyes of the North. I went into a tiny cave and wept because I’d lost my Mother Zion. I wept, too, for all my wounds. I wept for my sadness. I wept and wept. I cried so many tears, they absorbed my pain and bruises. Then I smelled something very sweet. It reminded me of my mother’s soft breath on my cheek. That small comfort made me cry some more. I was so full of joy that I cried until it shook the mountain of my cave." The crying out of joy that will force the soul out of the cave also kind of reminds me of The Ripening, especially in this connection to a mother’s love (“In living I have learned/ to love another as a mother/ And I’ve felt that love inside my wicked flesh”) but I may be reading too much into it.

The soul then is persecuted by her enemies, and we are told “Then I saw poisonous snakes, scorpions, and other hideous reptiles slithering towards me. The snakes were hissing. I screamed, “Mother! Where are you?! Help me!” I heard my mother say, “Run, daughter! The Omnipotent, Unconquerable Provider has given you wings. Fly! Fly over these things blocking your path!” And I did." Compare this to “I’m not going back / I’ll run until I die / And when I can no longer run / I’ll teach myself to fly / I try”. All in all, the world of Hildegard’s visions is far from the reality Jutta faced.

The soul faces self-doubt and recovers remembering it was created by God: “The Devil’s poison arrow is the evil robbing me of my spiritual joy. I don’t want to celebrate people or God. I doubt everything when I feel this way, including my salvation. But when God helps me remember that He created me, then—even in the middle of my depression—I tell the Devil, “I won’t give in to my fragile clay. I’ll fight you!” How? When my inner self decides to rebel against God, I’ll walk with wise patience over the marrow and blood of my body. I’ll be the lion defending himself from a snake, roaring and knocking it back into its hole.” It echoes Jutta’s advice to Hildegard in The Rule, but of course, she is not whole like she claims she is. (“When you are whole, you will be like me / When you are whole, you will move confidently / Through your life / And you will understand how the boulder becomes sand / And you will know how to not become sand / When you are whole, you will never be scared / When you are whole, you will always be prepared / For a dragon's attack! / And you will slay the beast..or scare him away at least / And you will never again be the least”)

3. In “The Play of the Virtues”, Hildegard focuses a lot on clothing, as a metaphor for the “wearing” of salvation, as something we’re born with and must keep clean. This enhances how soul shattering Jutta’s experience was, “His hand pulling at my skirt”.

4. Letter to the Belgian Monk Guibert (1175) and Light Undercover: "My spirit is ever illuminated by what I call the shadow of the living Light. It has no physical limitations whatsoever and is much brighter than a cloud through which the sun shines. I can never predict when or how I’ll see it. As water reflects the sun, the moon, and the stars, this shadow of the living Light reflects God’s Word, sermons, virtues, and the things that humans do. Whatever I see in that Light’s shadow stays in my mind for a long time, stored away. I see and understand, hear and know at the same time. I only know what I see in these visions, because I’m untaught. I record what I see and hear, without adding my own words, and my Latin is unrefined, because that’s how I hear it in my visions. I’ve not been taught to write like a philosopher. Also, my visions are filled with images and sounds that are nothing like words spoken by any human. They’re more like a blazing fire and a cloud floating through a clear sky. I can’t comprehend this Light’s shadow any better than I can look right at the sun. Also, sometimes in that shadow (but not very often) I see another light. This is the living Light I spoke of earlier. I’m even less able to explain what this Light is like in comparison to the other. But I can say that when I look at it, every feeling of sadness disappears, and my every ache leaves me. I’m no longer an old, sick woman. I become young again." “Light is in the dark”, strength is in weakness.

5. The entire play gains a deeper, metalinguistic meaning, when we learn that for Hildegard, “When we sing, we repossess some of the Eden lost when Adam fell”. (Letter to the Prelates at Mainz, 1178).

6. Becoming Whole

Hildegard’s visions in “The Book of Life’s Merits” and Underground"I saw a very tall man. His head and shoulders were above the highest clouds. His torso was in a white cloud below this, while his upper legs were in the earth’s atmosphere. From the knees down, he was planted in the earth, and his feet were rooted in the deepest waters of the abyss, which represent the virtues and their power. They are the antidotes to sin, because they have the might to make anything whole. They do this by cleansing whatever they touch and making it holy. They nurture and sustain the world, and they bear all things. Everything on earth steeps in the moisture of the virtues and is made strong, in the same way that the soul makes the body moist and healthy, regenerating it."

In contrast to Jutta’s teachings about the body, Hildegard finds more balance in her writings, as Butcher puts it “Hildegard understood the symbiotic relationship between body and soul. She knew that when the body and soul are not in sync, a person’s whole world is out of whack. While she believed that the physical body is easily wayward and must be controlled, she did not teach that the body is evil (…) Hildegard’s work also emphasizes taking care of the body, because it is the sacred temple of the Holy Spirit”. Against ideas of duality, Hildegard brings “God’s goodness and the essential wholeness of a divine creation that refuses to be separated into neat-but-useless categories of earth and spirit, body and soul, nature and people”.

[justahopelessssromantic]

Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys here’s another update of this story for y’all! Sorry I haven’t been posting much I promise I am working on updates and your requests that you have kindly given me. I’ve just been in a little rut but I promise I’m trying my best to work through it. Thank you so much for reading and your patience ❤️

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and violence

Daniella followed Angel into the scrapyard. Her nerves only increased the closer she got. She held Hope tightly to her, the little girl nuzzled against her shoulder. Her palms were sweaty and her body felt like it was shaking internally, all normal sensations for Daniella when she was nervous. She didn’t understand why she was making such a big out of this. He didn’t care about her so why should she care what he thought? Still she couldn’t shake the feeling of him wanting to be proud of her. To show him how well she turned out without him, without anyone. Even though it was hell to get there.

Composing herself, she followed Creeper and Angel into the clubhouse. She immediately looked around taking in her surroundings. A habit she had developed over the years.

“He’ll be out in a minute.” Creeper said before leaving her and Angel alone in the room.

Angel smiled looking down at Hope. “She looks just like you. You’re gonna be a little heartbreaker like your mother, huh?” He asked tickling Hope with zero reaction from the girl besides her squirming away from him and closer to Dani.

Daniella rolled her eyes as she looked around the small space. The place was littered with Mayans memorabilia making the place seem more homey, but that seemed to be the purpose of the clubhouse. A home for the members of the club. Daniella knew enough about MC’s to know they were much bigger than just a club, they were a family.

She could relate, she had her own sense of family away from blood with the women she worked with. They were more of a family to her then she ever had, always looked after. They had her back just like she would always have thiers.

Many people looked down on them, like they were less than because of their line of work. Thinking of them as only an object to get off too, a warm body at their disposal, but they were so much more than that. Those women were the strongest, most incredible people she had ever met. As fucked up as a situation that it was that got Daniella into prostitution it was one of the best things for her. Another step in the right direction that led her to where she was now, who she was now.

“So, is her father in the picture?” Angel asked.

Daniella turned her attention back to Angel actually welcoming the conversation as a distraction for her bundle of nerves about meeting her own father. “No, it’s just us. Her dad is kind of a piece of shit anyways, it's better this way.” It wasn’t a lie.

Angel nodded, tucking that information away. At least he didn’t have competition with that douchebag. “Anyone else?” He asked. He had to know if there was any man whatsoever in the two girl’s lives, had to know if there was an opening for him.

“Nope, just us.” She repeated, “And before you say anything else no, we aren’t looking for anyone else.” Well besides Bishop Daniella thought. “And we don’t need anyone else.” She wasn’t here to flirt, or find love, or any of that shit. She was here for only one man. He was her top priority. She couldn’t afford any distractions and Angel was just that, one tall, attractive distraction.

Angel went to speak up again only getting cut off once more as Daniella’s attention was immediately drawn to the Templo’s door opening.

Bishop and Taza came out of Templo to meet their potential new girl. With Taza just behind him Bishop momentarily froze in his place when he met the eyes of the young woman. Eyes he knew so well, eyes he never thought he’d see again. The eyes of the love of his life staring back at him. It was like seeing a ghost or being shot back to his past. His heart clenched in his chest at the memory of what was lost to him, of what he tried to bury all those years ago when he gave up all hope.

It was all so surreal.

She looked just like her mother. Being in the same room with both her and Bishop the likeness couldn’t go unnoticed by Taza either.

Bishop composed himself quickly, looking cool on the outside as he approached her, his daughter.

He just knew it was her.

“Bishop Losa,” He introduced himself with a smile. He was so caught up in his own thoughts when he saw her that he almost didn’t notice the small child in her arms.

Daniella was praying he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands as she kept her grip on Hope. One thing for sure the two had in common was being able to remain their composure on the outside despite the rushing thoughts and emotions running through them.

“Daniella,” She said with a smile, “and this is my daughter, Hope.”

Daniella, Bishop thought to himself, and Hope. His daughter Hope, now went by the name Daniella and ironically named her own daughter Hope.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daniella.” Bishop said. “Why don’t we have a seat,” He suggested nodding over to a table in the back. “Angel can take your daughter. “ He saw the uncertainty in her eyes as she contemplated his suggestion. “They’ll stay close, won’t go out of sight.”

“Okay,” Daniella agreed, passing Hope over to Angel. She tenderly tucked a strand of Hope’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll be just over there, okay?” She told the young girl, “I won’t be far.”

“I’ve got her.” Angel reassured her before taking Hope over to the bar and setting her on top of it. He watched as she kept her eyes on her mother, sucking her thumb before turning her head to look up at him, her big eyes melting his heart.

Daniella stole one last glance at Hope before taking her place across from Bishop at the table. It was crazy how in just the few days she had known Hope she had become so attached to her. She couldn’t imagine being here alone anymore. Deep down she needed Hope maybe more than Hope needed her.

“So, Daniella.” Bishop started, “Where are you from? We haven’t seen you around before.”

“All over the place, really,” Daniella said with a friendly smile. One that anyone during an interview would have. “But most recently Stockton.”

“Stockton?” Taza spoke up from where he was standing behind Bishop. “What were you doing there?”

Rowena suggested she stick as close to the truth as possible that way she would be less likely to slip up so that was exactly what Daniella was going to do. “I’m going to be honest with you,” She started. The way the two men perked up at those words and how they were observing her rather carefully was not unnoticed by Daniella.

At the same time, she was doing the same thing to Bishop. She took in every detail of him that she could. The way he spoke, how he held himself, and any little movements he made.

Bishop was waiting for her to tell him she was his daughter. He tried to plan out what he would say to her, what he should say to her. What do you say to your daughter who was taken from you so long ago? Who probably did not have an easy life, who you loved with all your heart but was not there for?

“I just got out of a luxury stay I had booked at Stockton State Prison.”

That was not what the two men were expecting to hear. Taza smiled to himself, like father like daughter. Both were clearly trouble makers.

“I was booked for possession of heroin with intent to sell, being under the influence of heroin, and resisting arrest.” She watched the men, mostly Bishop trying to read any reactions. “The heroin wasn’t mine, it was my step dad’s.” She explained. Leaning down on the table she clasped her hands together. “Look, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of but I’m clean now and just want to start fresh not only for me, but for Hope.” 

“I appreciate the honesty, Daniella.” Bishop said. He wanted to reach over and grab her hand in his but didn’t. To hear what she had been through broke him. His baby girl was never supposed to have that life, but it’s the life Joselynn had so it was no surprise that she had been dragged under with her. He wanted to kill Joselynn for what she did, and kill fucking Billy too because he was almost certain the scumbag was involved as well. “We believe in second chances here. I can see you are trying to start new, that’s admirable.”

The warmth practically radiated from him making Daniella almost forget every horrible thing she knew about him, almost. She knew better than to let his act fool her though.

“What about any of your other family?” Bishop questioned. Daniella couldn't really see how that would pertain to the job but kept listening regardless. “Is your mother around? Or your father?”

“No.” She said plainly sitting back in her seat.

“What about her father?” Bishop asked nodding back to the little girl on the bar who was staring back at them waiting patiently for her mother to be done paying no mind to Angel who was trying to give her his keys.

“Not in the picture. It’s just us.”

Bishop nodded. Whoever the prick was did not deserve her time or to be in the young girl’s life in his opinion and he really hoped to never meet the man. “Okay, well we will of course have to do a background check.” He informed her. Now was her chance to speak up.

“Of course,” she smiled that fake smile again, that smile her mother used to give to anyone she was not too fond of. To anyone else it looked like a normal polite smile but Bishop knew better. “I don’t have anything to hide. I’m an open book.”

“Well, Daniella, find a sitter for your kid and you can start as soon as tomorrow. I think you will be a great addition around here.”

“Great,” her smile became more genuine. She was not expecting it to be so easy to get a job. “I already have a girl. You won’t regret this, I promise. Thank you so much, Bishop.”

Bishop smiled at her shaking her hand before she headed back towards Hope scooping the girl up in her arms and exciting the clubhouse with Angel behind her.

Stepping forward Taza set his hand on Bishop’s shoulder giving it a squeeze. “She's finally home, hermano." Taza said looking at the door where they just disappeared from. "Do you think she knows?"

"She knows." The way she was carefully watching him during their interview was what really gave her away. She knew who he was, he was certain of that. Maybe she didn't know he was her father but she definitely knew of him. "There's no way her showing up here is a coincidence."

"Are you going to tell her?"

“No,” Bishop shook his head. “I want her to come to me. She’s been through enough already. Who knows what lies Joselyn filled her head with. Now is not the time. I just got her back," Bishop's voice softened as he thought of losing his daughter once more. "I don’t want to push her away already.” More than anything he wanted to learn more about the woman she had become.

Taza understood where his brother was coming from. He never personally met Joselyn but as one of Bishop’s closest confidants he had heard the story of how he lost his love and his daughter in the same night. Bishop would not often talk about it but he never truly gave up looking for her either, even after all these years. None of them could have expected that she would be the one to find them first.

“So how does it feel, grandpa?” Taza teased.

Bishop shook his head with a smile. “Fuck off.” Standing up from his seat he passed Taza with a pat to the shoulder before making his way back to Templo. Taza watched his brother head in and close the door behind him before heading outside with the other’s to give him a moment alone.

Sitting down on his chair at the head of the table Bishop pulled the old diamond engagement ring out of his cut where he had kept it since the day he lost his family. It was nothing fancy, a simple small diamond on a silver band but his Evelia would have loved it. She was a simple woman who only needed two things in her life, Bishop and their daughter, her family.

As much as he missed her he was thankful that she did not have to live with the pain of losing their daughter like he had. At least she was spared that much. She would not have survived that.

Brining the ring to his lips he gave it a small kiss before placing it back into his pocket just over his heart. He rested his hand on top of the leather where he could just barely feel the delicate jewelry as he thought about his family and how he now had a chance to know his daughter. “She’s home, amor. She’s finally home.” He murmured. “I promise I won’t lose her again. I won’t fail her or you this time.”

Carrying Hope, Daniella headed back to her vehicle in a bit of a daze trying to fully wrap her mind around the interaction. She finally met him, actually talked to her father. She wasn’t sure how to feel in this moment and Angel walked beside her going on and on about who knows what was not helping. She could only faintly hear his voice as he talked her ear off, his words sounding muffled as her mind was elsewhere. She wasn’t listening to him but he didn't seem to notice or care. He could be telling her his deepest darkest secrets and she would never know.

“Yo. Earth to Dani.” Angel said, sticking his phone closer to her face until she subconsciously reached out and took it. He was just talking about getting her number for work which she had nodded along to but now it was like she had not listened to a single thing he had said.

“What?” Dani asked looking over at him. They were now stopped in front of her black ford focus.

"Your number?" Angel nodded down at his phone in her hand. "For work."

She shifted Hope on her hip as she looked at Angel’s bright screen with the beginnings of a new contact with her name across the screen. “Is this your way of getting my number? Man you really don’t give up. You’ve hit on me what, three times now in one day? That’s gotta be some type of record.”

Angel licked his lips leaning against her car annoying her further. She wanted to play hard to get than that was fine with him. He liked the chase. “Just for work purposes, I swear little mama." Angel smirked.

Daniella was more irritated now as she glared back at him. “So you’re telling me you aren’t going to use it as a way to send unsolicited dick pics of your,” Daniella paused to glance down at the crotch of Angel’s jeans before back up to his face with her own smirk, “less than impressive package?”

“Trust me one night in my bed and you won’t be saying that.”

Danielle chuckled, unlocking the door to her vehicle. “Trust me,” she said opening her back door nudging Angel out of the way. Bending over she set Hope into her car seat making sure she was secure all while feeling Angel’s gaze directly on her ass. Once she had Hope fully situated and buckled she turned back to face Angel. “That won’t be happening.”

Now that sounded like a challenge to Angel. “We’ll see about that.” Walking backwards he smirked as Daniella glared at him. Looking past her he waved to Hope. “Bye Hope,” He said before meeting Dani’s eyes. “See you tomorrow little mama.” Smirking Angel left her with that turning around heading back to the scrapyard. The car door slammed behind him before the vehicle started up and headed down the road. He wanted to turn back around and give her one last look but he was not going to. He was exactly where he wanted to be, under her skin.

****

Daniella shot up in bed clutching her stomach as the pain pierced through her abdomen so vividly. She was drenched in sweat and consumed by panic as she tried to come to her senses. Looking down she found her shaking hands free of blood bringing her some comfort as she came back to reality.

It was just another nightmare.

“Fuck,” she breathed out running her hand through her hair. Reaching over she grabbed a scrunchy from the bedside table and piled her hair on top of her head securing it loosely. Looking over she found Hope sound asleep and sprawled out across the other side of the bed, her hair sticking to her face from the heat that radiated from the young girl while she was asleep. She brushed the strand off her forehead before slipping out of bed in hopes of not disturbing her.

Padding down the hall she made her way effortlessly through the dark apartment snatching her pack of cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table on her way to the window. She unlocked it and slid the pane up. Daniella situated herself on the windowsill, one leg dangling out the edge with her back resting against the side. Lighting up a cigarette she took a long drag holding it a moment before blowing the smoke out and into the night. She leaned her head back and stared out at the full moon. They say strange things happen during full moons. Maybe that was the reason behind the violent nightmares. But if that were the case she wouldn’t have so many so often. No she knew that wasn’t true and didn’t believe in all of that anyways.

No matter how many times she had the nightmares they always seemed to shake her up, feeling just as real as when she was in prison. Most of the time it was just flashbacks of her time inside, more often than not the day she was jumped in the hall. She would never forget that moment, the rush of adrenaline when they grabbed her, the piercing pain, the metallic smell mixing with the sickeningly strong aroma of bleach from the cleanup that happened just prior.

Two women grabbed her and held her tightly in their grasps against the wall as the third, some woman with red hair and the most sinister smile on her face pulled out the shiv and waved it in front of her face, teasing her with the sharp object. “With love from Billy bitch!” The woman sneered. Before Daniella could really register what was happening the shiny metal was pierced through her abdomen, not once, not twice, but three times before they finally let up, releasing her. She clutched at the open wounds, the blood coating her hands as she collapsed onto the cold hard tile, one hand reaching out to catch herself but slipping across the floor doing nothing to lessen the impact. Leaving her with a swift kick from each the last thing she remembered is watching the women be let out by the guard as her vision clouded around her.

But this time the dream was different. Instead of being in the prison she was back in her childhood home and this time it was Billy holding a knife as he sneered down at her, her mother watching on from behind, encouraging him to finally rid her of the worthless, ungrateful reminder of what she lost, of what she’d never be.

Daniella caught the brief movement from the side of her eye and looked over into the living room almost slipping out the window. Her heart leapt into her throat as she reached out catching herself before she could go anywhere. “Jesus Christ.” She muttered with her hand on her head. Daniella looked back into the brown doe eyes staring at her. “We really need to get you a damn bell or something.”

Hope sucked on her thumb as she stared at Daniella wide eyed with Mr. Bear as Daniella called him held tightly against her chest.

“Can’t sleep?” Daniella asked, putting the cigarette out and sliding back into the apartment. She pushed the window back down, latching the lock securely before closing the curtains. Crouching down in front of Hope she ran her thumb across her face, caressing her skin where a stray tear had found its way down her plump little cheek. “Me neither. How about we put on a movie, yeah?”

Standing up she walked with Hope to the couch helping boost her up onto the leather sofa. Bending over in front of Hope Danilla caressed her face. "This is our fresh start, okay? They can't hurt you anymore. No one will ever hurt you again." Kissing Hope on the forehead she gave the girl a small smile. She meant every word. She would do anything for Hope.

Stepping back to the entertainment center Daniella sat down on her knees looking through the various titles on the shelf. Unfortunately when Rowena set everything up it wasn’t with a toddler in mind. She ran her fingers across the spines of the many DVDs before pulling out Stranger Things. “How about this?” She asked holding the case up for Hope to see. “Ro said it was the first thing I needed to watch once I was out and there’s kids in it so that means it’s kid friendly, right?” Hope stared back as always snuggling into one of the purple pillows on the sofa. “Yeah, we’ll try it.” Daniella decided, popping the disc into the DVD player and grabbing the remote before sitting down next to Hope.

The show began playing the theme song quietly as Daniella stared ahead watching the colors flash across the screen. Her mind wasn’t on the show however but her meeting with her father just hours before. “I know I should have told him, but we don’t even know the guy Hope. Right now we have the upper hand, the chance to see just who he really is before we give ourselves away.” She explained. Maybe she was a coward but she had been burned too many times in her past. She wasn’t about to open herself up to him leaving herself and Hope included vulnerable to him or anyone for that matter.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she replayed the meeting over and over in her mind. “He wasn’t what I was expecting Hope.” Daniella said, turning to look at Hope. “He didn’t seem like the shitty person mom made him out to be.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch sitting criss crossed. It was weird seeing Bishop in person to Daniella. He seemed nothing like what she had envisioned from the few details her mother would give her. He seemed like a good guy and she craved to get to know him better, craved the love she didn’t receive growing up but she knew better than to get her hopes up. “But first impressions don’t mean anything, Hope.” She explained to her as Hope listened intently. She was a good listener at least. “Most people won’t show you their real colors until they’ve already sunk their claws into you. You can’t trust anyone. It’s just you and me against the world now. We gotta look out for us.” In time he’d slip up and show her the real him, it was really only just a matter of time.

Tagging: @everyhowlmarksthedead @cind-in-real-life @ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @carlaangel86 @sammskellington @chibsytelford @mheart27 @scuzmunkie @vsfavs @starrynite7114 @gemini0410 @whyisgmora

[renzu-valra]

Prompt #15: Thunderous

Character: Marik Lucullus  ♦  Region: Doma  ♦  Time: 26 Years Ago Hosted by: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

Like a false god striking revelation upon the world, Takenaka came to him in the dark of a tumultuous storm with a request he laboured to refuse. The Raen was drenched in cold rain, and panting heat. It wasn’t like the man to show up without warning, let alone in the dead of the night.

At first, he thought himself delirious what with being woken up mid-sleep, but no, the man meant every word. “I need you to take her.” Takenaka begged initially the moment he fell in through his door. His clothes were covered in muck, and it was clear he had seen better days. Whatever made him drag his miserable self through the thick rain must’ve been serious.

He had come alone, so whoever this ‘her’ person he spoke of, he hadn’t the slightest. Not until he had Takenaka seated on his couch with a towel around him to dry his head and prevent a cold. Not until Marik too had begun to wake from his crudely disturbed slumber.

Her.

His unborn child. Without a doubt, that must be what he meant.

When they weren’t discussing strategy, Takenaka was raving about how well his wife was coming along. Even though she’d only just begun showing. The Raen was a man of few words, but those he spoke were hard to misinterpret. At least, to those who knew him as well as Marik did.

Takenaka Matsugen had a justifiable want to forsake his country—hence why he sided with the Empire’s ideals instead of those he pledged himself to. However, he put his family above all else. He had wanted to give them all a good life far from this wretched place, but something unexpected was now forcing his hand.

Whilst Marik himself likely could’ve taken them all in, his wife and his other kid, they wouldn’t have much freedom in that world as refuges. If he only took the newborn, he’d at least be able to pretend she was his in all rights—even if that would imply he slept with a savage. She’d have a future. That’s what Takenaka was hoping for by coming to him.

No, the real issue was why the man came to him in such a precarious, untimely manner. It meant he had no time left.

“So you’re not going to run?” Marik said with his arms crossed as Takenaka dried himself off.

“My son will see me as a coward.”

He would either way. Is what he wanted to say, but Marik knew the man to be prideful, if nothing else. Even though Takenaka wished to be rid of his country, he could not forfeit the culture which had been imposed on him. Maybe he thought his boy would take something good away from it…or that in so ‘honouring’ his would-be punishment, his family would be spared in turn.

In truth, if he wanted to protect his family, this would be the only way to do it. They had yet to win anything, and thus he would earn no title back in Garlemald…and taking his pregnant wife and fleeing without a plan would come with great risks.

“Have you told your wife?”

What luck would he have in taking her newborn babe away from her without prior talks with her husband? He couldn’t deter the man himself in his cause, but he found himself deliberating the expenses. What debt did he owe to Takenaka save their friendship? None, however…

“Naizuno…”

Marik turned his attention towards Takenaka at that. “Really now?”  With a shake of his head, Marik took a seat opposite his friend and planted his face in his hands. He truly was resolved to die. And hearing the name of his unborn daughter affirmed that in Marik’s mind. It wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter whatsoever. To know his friend was going off to his death…and to grant his final request…what choice did he have? Refuse, and see Takenaka off full of regret? Or accept, and be responsible for caring for a child that wasn’t even his?

It wasn’t like he wanted kids anyhow. He’d likely hire a nanny and be done with it. Surely Takenaka knew this. But again, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice either. He only came to Marik because he knew he’d say yes.

“Yes, fine, I’ll take her and only her.” He relented against his better judgement. If Takenaka was to go without reward for all he did for their cause, he’d live with that burden forever.

Suddenly though, he’d feel a crushing weight pull him from himself as the Raen thought to thank him with a hard hug. Normally, he’d push the man off, but tonight…he’d let him do as he pleased without reprimand. This would be the last time they ever saw each other again. And if he had already said his goodbyes to his wife, then it would be the last physical connection he’d have with another person before he left this world for good.

“Thank you, thank you…”

With a thundering rally of noise, Marik said his own farewells one last time.