#now can they stop with angst i want the fluff now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedsandtubesocks · 3 days ago

Text

cosmic love

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

tags & warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS. time travel AU, magic elements, pining & yearning, fluff but with touches of angst, implied age gap (Acacius being older than both reader & Marcus), light use of gendered language, bi!Marcus Acacius & bi!Marcus Pike, brief mention of death & existential questioning, spicy themes, smut (threesome, m!oral, one moment of spitting) M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, no use of y/n

word count: 7.5k

a/n: I’m sorry I blame the gladiator statue pics we got & yeah now here we are lmao, this fic literally wouldn’t be here without @pedgito & @perotovar - i can’t thank you two enough for all the help i love y’all tremendously, also a sweet special tag for @morallyinept ily too… And lastly - thank you for reading, you’re what makes this so special and magical ♡

The statue that arrived with the newly updated Roman exhibition at your museum has gained attention.

As a guide you enjoy seeing all the new faces here to check out the freshly opened installation. The heightened foot traffic has kept you and your co-workers busy, but it’s been a nice welcome.

Your eyes drift to the statue now.

General Marcus Acacius stands slightly weathered yet still commanding in his bronze glory, towering among the room with all the grace a powerful Roman Army commander would be.

You learned he conquered countless territories and countries in the name of the Ancient Roman Empire. Eventually though, he was caught in a conspiracy to overthrow the ruling emperors and died within the eyes of the coliseum, the whisper of a gladiator’s death.

Now you readily explain this all to tour groups like the one you currently guide.

“Oh, he’s cute.” One of the elementary school girls currently giggles to her friend. The other school children gasp around her, teasing her.

“It’s okay. He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” You reassure her. The girl seems bashful but relieved at your agreement.

It wasn’t just you. A local internet influencer stopped by and even made a video about the statue being her dream guy.

Even as a statue, the General is eye-catching.

The bronze figure captured his likeness bewitchingly detailing the soft curls of his hair, a lovely sharp nose, mountainous strong broad shoulders, and a pensive stare looking out to a distant horizon. He’s a man of unwavering beauty.

You constantly want to smack yourself for being wistful over a piece of art.

“He’s definitely the most attractive statue I’ve seen.” A familiar smooth sweet voice melts into the room’s quiet softness making your heart jump.

Approaching you with a molten smile and eyes twinkling in the low museum lights, Marcus doesn’t seem real at times.

A regular visitor, you first met him when he accidentally crashed one of your tours. Wholesomely thoughtful, but also being a charming yet slightly know it all, he was quick to join in on commentary of the paintings. With his Disney prince-like smile and earnest eager energy, you couldn’t dare shoo him away.

Now you happily seek his company.

“He’s become like a hot new celebrity here.” Joking, you nudge towards the General’s striking figure.

“I can see why.” Marcus whistles low. “Like look at those shoulders.”

You snicker as a bubbling fondness swells in you.

“He unfortunately died a tragic death.” Marcus comments, cloudy and mournful.

“Yeah, I heard. That means this guy is a bad boy.” You nod.

Marcus snickers at your comment then playfully nudges you with his elbow.

Later, all your co-workers beg you to ask him out to coffee.

“He’s totally got the hots for you!” Your favorite co worker often tells you, but you wave her off.

Marcus is just sweet. He’s kind and considerate, engaging to all the workers here. Besides, you don’t want to assume he possibly likes you and maybe ruin the precious friendship you have with him.

However, your favorite coworker shows up a few days later with a solution for your stale love life.

With a cheeky bright grin, she hands you the cutest pink velvet pouch in the break room.

“It’s called a love wish tea.” She declares.

She grabbed a pack of them at the local occult shop after the lovely witch who owned the place swore it worked.

“It calls in your heart’s desires and hey, it worked for me! That’s why I still have a pack left over!” She proudly recommends.

You roll your eyes but appreciate the gift.

Shoving it into your bag, you don’t give it much thought.

Then the cooler cozier weather settles in, the perfect time for museum dates. Strolling along the floors keeping a watch on everyone it’s hard not to notice the intake of couples. Some are intertwined beside each other staring fondly at a painting together, while others happily take photos of the other being silly.

A taste of loneliness fills you, but gently you sweep it away focusing back on work. Especially since tonight you’ll be locking up.

Already craving some extra caffeine, you glare seeing the break room depleted of any sweet salvation.

The small velvet pink bag in your bag immediately comes to mind. And at this point you think, why not. it will at least keep you awake.

Immediately out of the pouch the tea bag releases a soothing smell, a rich floral blending with delicate touches of a fruit scent, possibly pomegranate. You’re now excited just to taste it, love wish or not.

The tea steeps in your tumbler cup allowing a faint rose color to float into your water. Of course the tea is pretty too.

And the taste? Rich, lovely and warm, like a romantic valentine-like themed drink. It doesn’t reward you with a sensation of being in love, but instead you feel at peace.

After a few sips, you return to the floor.

There, Marcus sits on one of the benches in the Roman exhibition.

Curled over a leather sketchbook, he’s every bit the personification of a scholarly beautiful artist straight out of a romance novel. His face glanced up then back down to his sketch. Diligent concentration paints over his gorgeous face.

Cautious, yet eager, you approach.

He’s sketching a portrait of the General. The sharp edges of the charcoal, the smudges meant to mimic shadows, along with capturing the striking slopes of the General’s features - it’s fantastic.

“You’re amazing!”

Your compliment causes him to jolt slightly spooked, and you rapidly apologize. Once he catches sight of you, Marcus sighs with a dreamy relieved sleepy grin.

“Just sketching, nothing too crazy.”

You take a seat besides him on the bench.

“You captured his likeness so well already.” You’re in awe at the sketch.

Marcus laughs a bit nervously. It’s hard trying not to swoon at the light rose blush coloring his cheeks. He’s stunning.

“I bet General Acacius would be flattered.” You grin then glance back to the statue.

Marcus turns to follow your sight.

“Nah, he strikes me as a big relief fan.” Marcus comments thoughtfully.

The bad art joke isn’t lost on you, and you snicker beside him. Among the giggles you catch Marcus staring at you, the softest boyish grin tugging his lips.

The world melts into a splendid focus all on him.

This isn’t good. You can’t be thinking about possibly leaning in to kiss cute visitors while you’re still on the clock.

“Hey… so I’ve been meaning to ask if maybe we could-”

His phone ringing cuts Marcus off causing you to shoot up from the bench. Jumping on the call, Marcus seems apologetic and almost sad as you wave him bye to him.

Closing time approaches. You and your co-workers do one final look around the rooms. Marcus is nowhere to be found.

The Roman exhibition now sits sleepily still.

The dim glow coats the general’s statue, a glistening chopper. Even with the chips and weathering of time, he stands glorious as you stroll closer.

He really must have been something fierce for the empire to immortalize him in such grand fashion.

“You must’ve been a pretty amazing man.” You mutter mainly to yourself, gently touching the base of the elevated display platform he rests upon.

You wish him a good night and head home. You try not to think of stunning statues or cute museum visitors.

Next morning you’re woken up by a call from work, a frantic one.

“The fucking hot ass statue is missing.” Your co-worker hisses.

You don’t believe it till you see it.

But you’re knocked breathless at the sight.

General Marcus Acacius is missing. The once grand presence he added to the room is absent, vanished, as if plucked from the air itself.

It’s almost unnerving to see the once elevated space now hauntingly vacant.

Chaos brews humming all around. Copes scurry around everywhere, and plenty of people stand outside curious to what’s going on. A controlled whirlwind fills your museum. Various officers keep the scene roped off.

The museum decides to close for the rest of the week to let the police handle as much as they can. You adore the museum truly, but there’s one spot you love the most. Right by the break room leading from various different doors is an outdoor courtyard. It’s become a place of solace.

The bubbling dread has you stepping out here one more time. The sky above looms with a cold front approaching and casts a somber shadow over the space even more.

The shrubs rustle off the side among the thick greenery, and you figure it’s a bird.

“It’s you.” Until a new voice speaks to you. Rich, heavily accented and smooth, it startles you.

You wonder if you’re imagining things.

The man is dressed in Roman attire, elaborate white armor adorned with ornate gold pieces. Glorious graying curls frame his ethereal aged face.

How did a cosplayer manage to sneak in?

He stares so directly at you it frightens you a bit.

“You’re the one who’s voice I heard…” he continues to speak. “It was like I was asleep, drifting away. Then you woke me.”

“Sir, how did you manage to get in here?” You ask, trying to stay as calm as you can.

“I do not know. I simply woke and found myself in this strange place.” He explains with a furrowed brow.

You wonder…is this a strange bit the museum is maybe trying to pull off, and they didn’t tell you.

He steps forward now, and instinctively you walk back cautious. The man must take in your reaction because his face, his handsome face that now looks vaguely familiar, frowns. He holds his hands up defensively.

“I mean no harm. I just need to know what happened to me.”

Someone calls out your name, sounds like your boss. “Come on let’s head out.”

The stranger repeats it and how smooth his voice is, your name rolls off his tongue.

“I am General Marcus Acacius, and I am in need of your assistance.”

That makes your brain scratch.

“Wait, what?” You turn to him confused. “What did you say your name was again?”

He repeats it firmer.

Marcus Acacius.

As in… General Marcus Acacius.

There’s no way.

“Oh, so you’re an actor.” You deadpan.

“I…am confused? I’m no performer. I promise you that.” He almost sounds huffy.

You gotta give him credit. The guy stays in character pretty well.

“You shouldn’t be here, actor or not.” You tell him, heading back inside. Of course this man follows you in.

At the sight of the glass door and the movement of it, he pauses stunned, like he can’t process it. You almost want to laugh.

“You’re pretty good, even though you say you’re not an actor.” You tease.

He frowns hard not enjoying that.

“Either tell me what is going on or I will find a man who will.” He snaps loud and your eyes go wide.

His memorizing face scrunches up in frustration. Dark amber eyes are coated in fierce anger.

“I wake up in a strange place filled with artifacts and see people dressed strange. What is going on?” His voice rises confused, panicking.

Either he’s the most amazing actor ever or…

No.

It can’t be.

Too many thoughts swirl in your head like angry bees trying to make your brain explode.

You need a minute. So you grab the mystery man’s arm, practically dragging him to follow you.

“Excuse you? Where are you taking me?” He demands.

“Somewhere safe.” You half lie.

Unfortunately your boss stops you. His worried eyes catch sight of the man in the armor. You’re quick to explain he’s an actor, upset about the missing statue.

“I am not a-”

You shush the strange man harshly. Your boss, hesitant and worried, surveys him.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Your boss says firm.

“Yup, and I was just showing him the way out.” You happily explain.

Thankfully your boss gets called away, and you make your escape.

“Are you abducting me?” He demands harder.

“Look, I’m the only one here who might be able to help you.” You hiss back.

“I am the commanding General of the Roman armies.” His voice blooms stronger when you reach the lobby. “I will find my way around.”

You swallow hard. A small but chaotic idea quickly jumps into your mind, and you decide to put it into action.

So, you hold the exit door open for him. The man nods to you, then strolls out. You follow him.

The towering skyscrapers, the rush of the cars, the stretching concrete roads, it becomes an overwhelming sight while the man whips his face around eyes wide and in shock. His face falls, aghast and disoriented.

That unrealistic conclusion you thought of - you think it might not be so realistic. Because the man turns to you wearing petrified horror, terrified confusion of a man in an unknown world that no actor could truly capture.

Reality smacks into you like a bag of nails.

This man is truly the great General Marcus Acacius.

The missing statue now full man summoned to life.

Someone yells your name.

Your heart drops. Of course Marcus arrives at the worst time. He jogs up to you dressed in what looks like a gym outfit.

“I heard about the statue.” He says worried then his eyes immediately grow cloudy and confused as he catches sight of the strange Roman dressed man.

“Is he… a friend of yours?” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“It’s complicated.” You blurt, panicked.

General Acacius stands still very stunned trying to take this new modern world in. Stumbling, he returns to your side, clutching your arm like you’re the only one who can steady him.

“I…” Acacius begins then stops mid word, still trying to process a reply. Until he catches sight of Marcus.

“You,” The man surveys Marcus with narrowing eyes. “You seem familiar as well.”

This is getting out of hand.

“Okay time to go.” You rapidly try diffusing the situation, moving General Acacius away from Marcus.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Marcus questions, persistently following behind while you head to the parking lot.

You scramble out a lie that the strange man is an old friend you ran into who just came back from a play.

“I told you, I’m no performer.” Acacius insists still. You also discover he’s built like a wall and trying to wrangle him into the car proves to be Herculean.

Swiftly, Marcus firmly snaps out your name. His tone is different, urgent and enforcing. It turns you into a statue yourself.

Comedically, you’re practically halfway shoving Acacius into the car but now stand frozen. He notices the shift in tension quickly.

“Are you frightened of him?” Acacius mutters concern, surprisingly concerned. “Because I can dispose of this man.”

You shake your head no.

Swallowing hard, you finally look Marcus dead in the eyes.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You admit.

“Try me.” Marcus rebuffs, serious as steel.

So you sigh, what more do you have to lose now?

“General, can you please tell him who you are.” You then allow Acacius to speak for himself.

The ancient Roman clears his throat and announces his full title and name. The younger and modern Marcus’s face twists confused with a hint of concern.

Suddenly his eyes go wide. He catches on fast, figures it out quicker than you did that’s for sure.

This cute casual museum visitor you have a slight crush on is now your accomplice and partner in crime.

At least…now you don't have to deal with an ancient Roman General being brought back to life from stone alone.

— °˖➴ —

Marcus’s apartment is lush and cozy, filled with so many books and records. The warm walls, sleek modern design, make your place feel like a hole in the wall. Having a roommate, you couldn’t just bring home a very confused man out of time. So thankfully Marcus offered his home.

Now you’ve practically been living here with General Acacius trying to figure out what happened.

Acacius takes things rather well, almost in stride. Fitting for a general that explored new territories and had to face the unknown chaos of war.

The fridge fascinates him the most. You had to stop yourself from laughing seeing him open and close the refrigerator door like a child wondering if the food inside would disappear.

Marcus has a vice for candy, specifically sour ones. Seeing General Acacius try one and the disgusted face of twisted torture is a memory you’ve replayed over multiple times.

But unfortunately no one can figure out what brought the statue to life and him here.

“I’m a man. Not a statue.” The roman general clarifies.

“You are now, but we gotta figure out why.” You sigh exhausted while Marcus readies breakfast for everyone.

He’s been an incredible host. It’s been hard not lingering on how domestic and warm he is within his own space.

Especially when there’s also an archaic man looking just as handsome walking around in a tight white t shirt Marcus lent him.

Surrounded by two unbelievably gorgeous men has been a double edged sword, a blessing and curse.

General Acacius reminds you of a mountain, ever powerful, sturdy and unwavering with the change of seasons. Yet there’s still an open vulnerability to him. You’ve seen it in how grateful he’s been and how eagerly he’s tried absorbing all about this new world.

Whereas Marcus reminds you of a river, beautifully flowing, always adaptable. But he surprises you with how direct and firm he’s been, almost protective in keeping you and Acacius safe.

You also don’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes sometimes flicker to sneak a glance at the older General. You can’t blame him.

Acacius fills out modern clothes sinfully. Watching him navigate everything with a certain poised grace is attractive. While Marcus has become endearing and patient, incredibly welcoming to this new hiccup in his life. You haven't felt this comfortable with someone in so long.

Truly a river and mountain now exist in your life, and you want to stay in their atmosphere more and more.

But you can’t get tangled in the budding emotions growing for these men.

You need to figure out how to help Acacius.

“Once I get back to the office, I’m hoping I can try to find something that could maybe help.” Marcus clarifies while grabbing his work bag.

You’ve learned much about him these past few days. Like he enjoys a good run, used to be a swimmer, has a soft spot for strays, surprisingly loves football -

Also that he’s a well known FBI agent.

You realized you never once asked what he did for work, and you’ve known him for months.

“You have feelings for that man.” Acacius announces once it’s you and him alone in the apartment. You almost spit out your drink.

“We’re friends, that’s all.” You huff.

This Marcus doesn’t seem to believe you, and gives you a very modern dry eyed side glare that makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you, the look of a man in love.” Acacius continues.

“Well I see the way he stares at you too, pal.” You reply back before you can even realize what you said.

Your words do their job stunning the general.

“He is too young for an old man like me.” Acacius rapidly fires back.

“You’re not that old.” You clarify. “If anything you’re distinguished, mature.”

“You are too kind, dear lady.” He chuckles.

You ignore how fast warmth spreads through you a dangerous wildfire just hearing him.

Your phone ringing makes poor Acacius jump. Though, it’s progress from the confused shout he used to yell whenever the phones rang.

Your boss explains that unfortunately the museum will have to stay closed the rest of the month for further investigations, and everyone’s information has been sent in to check for any suspicious activities.

It sounded serious.

Dead serious because after that phone call, you get called by the police department to head in for a few questions.

You have nothing to hide, except you did.

Because in theory you technically did and didn’t steal the statue. You just know the cops wouldn’t take your explanation.

The interrogation room you sit in is coated in a bleak serious air making you fidget worried. This is also the first time you left General Acacius alone at the apartment and that worry picks at you.

Then two officers walk in. One an older distinguished woman who gives you a nod then the other… a rather striking man.

Hawkish nose, clean shaven face, kind eyes, he smiles soft at you.

Marcus.

The agent that walked in is Marcus.

You try not to stare, but it’s hard. Dressed in an official suit and tie, the badge he wears, he sits across for you a striking professional handsome agent.

The woman introduces herself as one of the head local detectives of the case and the man accompanying her is from the FBI, specifically the head of the art crimes division.

Marcus wasn’t just an agent but someone that important.

You can’t deny how extra attractive it makes him.

“Agent Marcus Pike.” Polite and sweet he outstretches his arm to shake your hand like you’ve never met him before.

The questions are very basic.

Where were you the last time you saw the statue? Do you remember any recent guest that stopped by that maybe seemed suspicious?

You answer as truthfully and as best as you can, while also hiding the ancient Roman sized man truth away.

“Funny enough,” Agent Pike comments. “It does seem like this statue just seems to have…I don’t know, grown legs and walked out itself.”

You weakly laugh at his joke. You don’t miss the tug of his lips trying not to grin.

You leave the room as if you stepped out of a strange pocket dimension. Then again these past few days have felt strange and disorienting.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the head of some FBI art division?!” You let Marcus have it when you both return back to his apartment.

“Is that dangerous?” Acacius asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” You sigh.

“No…This is good.” Marcus clarifies. He even picked up apology pastries. General Acacius greedily snags a cheese danish and moans in pure delight once he takes a bite.

It’s hard to ignore how incredibly sexy he sounded.

“It means I can keep looking in my records for any previous instances of situations like this, or if there’s any leads on the case I’ll know.” Marcus patiently explains.

That calms you enough.

Days pass, and Acacius grows restless.

He doesn’t sleep well, snapping at you and Marcus often more. He mourns the loss of a world that’s passed, of a wife he lost. The grief comes in waves. You and Marcus try comforting him, but Acacius reminds you of a caged tiger, restless and fanged. You understand. Being cooped up in a strange home in a strange world must be exhausting.

So Marcus and you agree to have a nice weekend out with him.

General Acacius fidgets in the cozy cream knit sweater that stretches over his broad body, but damn does he look incredible. So does Marcus in his scholarly sleek coat.

This trip also works as another opportunity to do more investigating. The nearby bookstore is the first stop. Acacius gasps seeing the stretch of books.

“Pretty impressive, yeah?” Marcus smirks, and you grin agreeing. He decides to take a look at the art history books here for any information he might have missed.

You unfortunately get side tracked with the many books in front of you and slightly wander away from Acacius when one catches your eyes.

But you quickly find your way back to him.

The elder Marcus stands stunned like a ghost among the classical literature holding a thick encyclopedia.

“I knew of what happened to Rome after you and Pike told me. But seeing the grand colosseum like this… it’s a specter of ruins now.” He mutters while taking in the photo of the ancient landmark.

“I am glad. There should be no need for more death matches.” His voice weighs with the heaviness of centuries past.

You agree, happy he shuts the book and returns it back. You’re about to dive into the Ancient Rome section yourself now until he speaks again.

“What if I am not the same man these books speak of?” The older Marcus questions hollowed.

That stuns you.

“What if the man who died many years ago… is not me?” His voice wavers.

Existential dread looms off him a dark storm growing stronger.

Marcus turns the corner smiling bright. But quickly he immediately notices the shift in atmosphere, and his face falls as he mouths asking what’s wrong.

You let General Acacius speak from the heart.

“What if… I am not me? What if I am not the real Marcus Acacius?”

His face is weighted with fear, raw and open making him appear lost and so small for someone powerful as him.

“I believe it’s you.” You reassure him gentle. “I’m sure Marcus does too. Besides… who says you can’t be the same man?”

There are pieces of yourself that you’ve left with people, even some bits of you have gotten snagged in certain places or tied to certain objects. Who says a piece of Marcus Acacius truly resided in the statue and simply woke up. And if that’s the case, then that means he’s as real as ever.

You explain all of this best as you can to Acacius. Those deep steady eyes of his waver transforming into molten earth. Your hand moves down to squeeze his stronger large warm hand.

He squeezes back tight.

“Besides the man that died is still you too. You’re allowed to be both.” Marcus jumps in with the most tender voice

“That does not sound true.” Acacius mutters.

As modern has he’s slowly become, you think it still might be too hard to explain dimensional or reality theory.

“This philosopher I read about once said something along the lines of, if you think, therefore you are.” Marcus clarifies. “You exist here and now. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

You realize both you and Marcus slowly have huddled around General Acacius. You on one side and Marcus on the other, barricade to support your General as much as you or Marcus can.

Acacius sighs, watery, taking it all in.

Your heart aches for him. It overwhelms you, causing you to gently rest your head against his shoulder and letting your hand rest on his back.

Marcus also moves closer, placing his hand right besides yours, gingerly touching your hand.

Among the books you and these two rest simply in the stillness of the moment. You feel something hook deep in your chest, a feeling you can’t fully express.

After, Marcus treats everyone to his favorite taco truck. It's infectious seeing Acacius’s spirits brighten again. He again moans delicious when he takes his first bite. You don’t miss the awkward cough Marcus makes.

But the tacos are amazing and the cooler weather covers everything in a comforting dreamy cloud.

“I want to explore this world as much as I can.” Acacius declares with resolution and shining gilded hope.

So you start bringing the Roman general out with you more.

The museum is still being investigated, so you take the chance to enjoy the days, especially now with Marcus Acacius by your side. He enjoys your smaller apartment, becomes a fan of cooking shows fast.

Marcus and you discovered he isn’t big on sushi but has a notorious sweet tooth. Acacius embraces everything now with more gusto, a vibrant curiosity about many things, especially food. It’s endearing.

General Acacius also proves to be a lovely companion when you go grocery shopping.

“So many spices.” He says in awe in the aisle.

More people arrive and you try maneuvering your cart through the traffic. General Acacius catches on quick. Staying close to you, he places a comforting hand at your lower back and the other against yours in the cart. Shifting his body against yours, he’s a protective shield until you’re out of the thicket.

It sends the wildest hum of sparks throughout your body that persistently stays. Acacius stays firmly beside the rest of the trip.

For a man out of time, he’s open for conversation. The check out worker seems to blatantly ignore you while she happily and very openly flirts with him.

You don’t say much, ignoring the possessive emerald eyed sense of jealousy threatening to rise. He bids the flirty cashier a good day along with an elegant head nod. You keep quiet heading back to the car.

“That woman, she gave me a strange note with numbers on it.” General Acacius comments cautious, almost worried about what they could be.

You almost trip on the way out.

“Her number, she gave you her phone number.” You explain simply.

Of course you have to elaborate what that means and how it’s a modern way of signaling someone is attracted to you.

“Truly?” His handsome aged face scrunches up confused.

“What can I say? In any year you’re a catch.” You try not to sound wistful.

“I’m an old man not from this time. I have nothing worth for anyone to desire me.” Now he sounds dejected, somber and serious.

“Okay, besides being absolutely one of the most gorgeous men ever, you’re kind. Incredibly loyal and brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Earnesty floats off you.

His face drops, your words finally settling within him. The soft streams of grays in his luscious curled hair and rustic beard, the beautiful scars he wears that tell of his victories…

The statue truly was not able to capture the magnetic pull of this man.

Acacius’s eyes flicker across your face. You swear something shimmers in his deep earth eyes. His gaze flickers down for a split moment, as if he’s glancing at your lips.

Then your phone rings with a text, and you sigh.

This precious bubble you’ve been in, this newly woven existence with these two gorgeous men, is one you want to stay in forever. It’s warm, easy, and feels too nice to leave.

But work eventually crashes in.

The museum finally reopens but with the Roman exhibit closed still. The missing art has brought in more foot traffic to the museum. But what surprises you is seeing Marcus at work now while he works. You and him share sweet secret smiles to each other.

Even with work getting busy for you and him, you’ve been texting with Marcus frequently. It’s even been amusing being on the phone with him and Acacius cries out surprised hearing your voice.

Your mind drifts to them again as you daze off a bit at work.

“So, did you ever drink that tea I gave you?” Your favorite coworker asks, interrupting your daydream.

The confusion must be evident on your face.

“Ya know… the sweet love wish tea?” She grins like a pleased cat that’s about to catch a canary.

An abrupt realization barrels right into you, a fierce horned bull almost knocking you out at the knees. You can’t believe a possible magical tea maybe brought a statue to life. But with that statue now a very real ancient Roman man you’ve been harboring - anything is possible now.

“Can you tell me where the shop is that you got it?” You rapidly ask her.

Your next day off you head down there immediately, not even taking either of your Marcus boys.

The sweetest shop owner greets you warm and welcoming. You compliment her lovely silvery lavender hair.

“Oh it’s to hide the grays.” She winks, and you grin.

But the nervousness rises because you don’t even know how to approach the question you have.

“Something seems to be bothering you.” Of course she notices but speaks with a gentle tone.

Your heavy sigh must say it all. Very sweetly she pulls out a stool by the register and settles in waiting to hear your story.

Even with her welcoming smile, the hesitation pulls at you. But you manage to gently explain what happened without revealing the dizzying truth.

“So I drank the love wish tea. And something… someone I never imagined would come into my life did. So now I don’t know if there’s a way I could probably send him back to what, to where, he was.” You tell her.

The shop owner hums in deep thought, crossing her hands over her chest nodding.

“Is it a ghost? Did you call in a spirit? Are you in love with a ghost?” She asks flat out without hesitation, and you almost laugh.

She’s half right in a way.

“I’m thinking…possibly the one thing that came to mind that I would do first is to do an unbinding spell. Whatever is keeping this man here, the separation of that would be what sends him back.” She says jumping off her chair, waving at you to follow her through the shop.

You quickly scurry behind her.

Grabbing a pack of two candles, the ritual she describes is simple enough. Tying a string around the two candles, lighting them until they burn, which in the process would burn the thread, theoretically severing the tie of Acacius to this world.

“And you said it was the love wish tea you drank, yes?”

You nod, and she nods back in understanding.

“What that tea is meant to do is call in your heart’s desires, simply allow the universe to bring whatever magic it seems fit to your life…But it also isn’t doing it forcefully.” She explains.

The tea is known to work because it calls in someone who desires the same thing you do, almost like a little nudge in the matchmaking department, a magic magnet.

“It works because someone else is also receptive. But of course, there is no need to stay with whoever is brought to you.”

Her words sink into a deep corner of your heart. You wonder if that meant Marcus Acacius longed for a better future, and it’s why the tea worked on him.

Thanking her graciously, you take the candles and a few cute stickers she has by the counter.

“I hope everything works out for you, gorgeous.” Her warm smile becomes a comforting hug.

You hope so too.

But the way your stomach twists, a part of you realizes… what if you don’t want Marcus Acacius to leave?

It’s selfish - but you want this trio of you, him and Marcus Pike, to last as long as it possibly can.

Driving to Marcus’s apartment, guilt and selfishness fight each other tooth and nail. You don’t know if this unbinding spell would work, but it would be a start.

With the spare key Marcus gave you, you let yourself in.

There on the couch you catch the quickest glimpse of both men heavily making out with the elder Marcus greedily holding onto Agent Pike’s sharp jaw. You wonder if maybe you’re seeing things, but the image knocks you breathless.

The younger and modern Marcus, who halfway was on the elder General’s lap immediately, bolts away as if electrocuted.

On the table, you spot two glasses of wine.

They both stare at you, caught red handed. Immediately though, you scramble out apologies.

“I should have called and-”

Marcus says your name. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

You feel so foolish right now. You didn’t even think that they had a thing, and that you were possibly the third wheel.

“I can leave. I totally understand.” You really do.

“No.” Acacius orders, saying your name, firmly shaking his head as he rises. His eyes rusted steel swords that pin you to where you stand.

“This started because of you.” He adds.

Wait.

Because of you?

“Wait, are you guys drunk?” You even voice your confusion.

Both Marcus men shake their heads no.

“We were just talking about you, about us.” The younger Marcus explains.

“And it took us some time but we both desire each other. And we both desire you.” General Acacius simply interjects, and Marcus coughs stunned.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s been brought to life in another time.

“Honey, please don’t feel pressured if you don’t feel the same.” Marcus, wonderful Marcus Pike, ever understanding and eternally good.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Even tried to ask you out a couple of times, just got a bit of cold feet. It just unfortunately took an ancient Roman to get me to finally say something.” He laughs weakly, boyishly nervous.

He’s liked you all this time.

You don’t say anything, don’t think there’s any words you can say just yet. Simply the emotions overtake you.

You head first to the younger Marcus and kiss him with a fierce tug at his shirt. He happily pulls you into him and sighs into your lips.

A soft but large hand runs up your back, and the sensation makes your body bloom.

“You both are so beautiful.” The older Marcus mutters dripping with adoration.

With a squeeze to Marcus’s shoulder and one final soft kiss, you pull away then melt into the general’s waiting arms. His mustache tickles you as his lips kiss yours, but it’s divine.

Their hands all over you touch every inch they can. You’ve never felt this desired, never been the epicenter of affection and passion like this before. You just as eagerly try grabbing at either man with as much clawed possession as you can.

They’re both yours now after all.

Tumbling into the bedroom it’s like something out of a dream, blissful and deliciously decadent, but so real with how heated your body feels.

Both men start kissing your exposed skin, with one licking at your neck from behind and the other readily nipping at your exposed chest. Your mind melts in bliss.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

You’re rewarded with two beautiful groans, different in tones it becomes a symphony you want to hear forever.

In the blurry of haze, the sticky syrupy desire, you and the younger Marcus follow each other peppering multiple kisses on Acacius’s chest as he falls onto the bed.

You and the modern Marcus work together, conquering the beautiful golden exposed landscape of Marcus Acacius’s chest. You tenderly press your lips against the various scars then happily move to kiss the younger Marcus.

The delicious sighs from General Acacius fill the room, a hypnotic soundtrack.

Soon your lips start traveling further down across his body. Your fellow lover follows your trail, kissing and kicking every inch of Acacius. You and Marcus reach his cock twitching in the loose sweatpants Acacius has grown fond of.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans as he drags the older man’s cock out.

Fuck is right. Thick, girthy and dripping already, you already ache to have him inside in any way.

“Both of you are little fiends.” The elder Marcus croaks breathless. Confidence surges in you as you lick across his length, relishing in the taste of his skin.

Marcus’s tongue also licks with you along your other lover’s cock, even moving across your tongue. The louder groans coming from General Acacius only spur you and Marcus on.

Greedily your eyes flicker up towards the towering force of a warrior. The beautiful older man’s eyes blown black, desired drenched galaxies looking down at you and Marcus like prizes he wants to conquer himself.

It makes you dizzy, completely possessed, and you kiss your way down to one of his thick large heavy balls. You tentatively lick. Acacius initially hisses until his voice melts into the loudest primal groan when you start sucking.

Your sweet Marcus immediately follows your lead, dragging his mouth down as well. You and him simply devour Acacius, licking back and forth across your lover’s balls and each other’s mouths.

Marcus quickly starts stroking your lover’s thick cock. It’s heaven being among these two, allowing yourself to get lost in the golden ecstasy.

When Acacius reaches his release you greedily lick up his cum that spilled against his skin, and he groans. Once you sit up, you reach for Marcus’s cum covered hand and begin to lick and suck his fingers clean. It’s then your sweet Marcus that suddenly grabs your mouth with the same hand, pulling your face towards his.

“Don’t swallow baby, I wanna taste.” He mutters with blazed out eyes.

Hearing that you almost come on the spot.

You sit up and slowly allow your spit and the milky cum into Marcus’s waiting mouth.

“Gods above.” The elder Marcus moans carnal.

The rest of the night consumes you in a wanton haze.

Sweaty, exhausted, but floating on a cloud, you sink into the bed with two men barricading you in their arms.

“I’m surprised you were…open to this.” You say to Acacius who chuckles a bit.

“I have loved others before, some included men. One was even a fellow General who died tragically among the same coliseum walls as I once did.” He explains gently.

You kiss his chest softly in understanding.

As you and these two lie curled into one another on Marcus’s lush bed, it’s like a new door has opened.

You and Marcus eagerly ask your General about his days in ancient Rome and his travels across the old world, about the true story of how he got his scar. Ever the steady man, Acacius answers all questions he can.

In the middle of this warm incredible double Marcus sandwich makes you giddy. But Acacius’s deep comforting lull of a voice, Marcus’s soft hands stroking your skin, create a cocoon drawing you to sleep faster than you realize.

A soft kiss comes to the top of your head.

“Rest. We will be here when you wake.”

Nodding through a yawn, you happily kiss them both goodnight. But just before you fall into the depths of sleep, you catch the two talking.

“What… will happen if I do not return to stone?” Acacius speaks first, so low and cautious you wonder if you’re dreaming already.

“I… I guess the statue will remain incomplete, stolen.” Marcus answers truthful but gentle.

A moment passes.

“What if I do not wish to return to stone?” Acacius clarifies.

You hear Marcus inhale sharp.

“I’ve longed for peaceful days away from the brutality of the frontline. And now… it’s here.”

A thick hope shines through the older Marcus’s voice, slipping past your ribs to piece your heart.

Movement shifts the bed, arms reach across for each other and seem to cage around you more.

“You’ll always have the final say. You get to make that choice. Neither of us would ever want to force you or take that away from you.” Marcus’s molten words are coated in pure understanding.

“I wish to stay here… with you and her.” Confidence, solidified resolution, radiate from the General’s voice.

The bed shifts again, and you hear them exchange the softest kiss.

“We’ll have to make sure to tell her in the morning.” The modern Marcus sighs dreamily. His hands again start rubbing your arm soothing, as if he can sense you’re fighting sleep.

“Of course. We must never forget our lady.” The older Marcus agrees.

His words along with a soft kiss to your forehead become the final push that allows sleep to settle.

— °˖➴ —

“So you’re telling me mister head of the art crimes department will be okay with a statue staying stolen and missing forever?” You smirk amused while Marcus drives down the familiar roads.

“Hey it’s no Vemeer’s Concert, but I’ll live with it.” Marcus playfully smirks and shrugs.

The investigation on General Acacius’s missing statue had run cold. There was no indication of a break in or forced exit. From the surveillance tapes, the video recordings simply shimmer, distorted for one moment, and then the statue is gone. As if it vanished into thin air.

Or is simply currently sitting in the back seat of the car taking in the world and power of a motor vehicle.

“You hear that, General? Our boy said you’re not valuable.” You tease.

“I don’t mind and I can agree.” Acacius replies bored, making you laugh. The green sweater he wears compliments him and brings out the streams of grays in his hair. You and Marcus have loved seeing him embrace modern clothing more than ever.

“That’s not what I meant.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

You snicker even more.

The occult shop arrives, and the candles feel lighter than ever in your bag, especially knowing you’re here to return them.

“Seems like you didn’t need these after all.” Your favorite lavender haired shop owner says with a coy smirk. Her eyes stay locked on your men exploring the aisles.

“A two for one deal? I'm definitely advertising that for the tea.” She adds eagerly, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

If only you could tell her the full truth.

You return to your boys, enjoying the way Acacius seems to be a bit petrified among all of the occult objects.

“Are you sure this witchcraft is safe?” He asks worried, snd Marcus smooths by rubbing his back.

You grin.

Love, affection, might be the strangest but most beautiful magic after all.

#this is maybe for like me and three other people but I love y’all & if ur reading this me and the Marcus boys love you too #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #pedrostories #marcus p 🤎#Marcus A 🤎#general Acacius 🤎

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justmeinadaze · 3 days ago

Text

November Rain Part 2 (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: You have decided 😈 I'll release this now then :) Enjoy the angst and the cliffhanger! *dances away in an angsty fashion*.

Warnings: Older (Early to Mid 30s) Dominate Boxer (Friend's Dad) Eddie X Plus Size Fem younger (early to mid 20s) sub Y/N, SMUT, Daddy Kink, public-ish smut (quickie at work), FLUFF, Eddie really does love his daughter and is trying to be a better father. He also really cares about you which leads me to...

ANGST! Reader mentions that Eddie disappears for a bit and how it affects her (brief), mentions of worry when it comes to their relationship (both are aware they can only keep this hidden for so long which kind of fuels he choice at the end of this chapter), Eddie also kind of keeps his ex and marriage close to his chest (struggles to talk about it), we meet Paige's mom, Paige gets wasted and you take care of her, I think that's it. OH! Cliffhanger ending 😈 I LOVE YOU!

Word Count: 4608

Part 1/Donate to Me

2 weeks.

It had been two weeks since you found out the man you had been intimate with was your roommate and friend’s father. Two weeks of silence even though you left him your phone number by his nightstand praying he’d call only to find out a few hours later that things were way more complicated than they should be.

Two weeks of dreaming of his lips and hands roaming your skin while he whispered in your ear how beautiful you were. Two weeks of crying at night because you desperately missed the sound of his laugh and hated that life was so un-fucking-fair.

Two weeks of misery.

“I’m sorry, Paige.”, you murmured as you glared out the window.

“Honey, it’s no problem. Your car was doomed to die sooner or later. I’m surprised it ran for as long as it has.”, your friend chuckles as she rubs your arm. “We’ll get through this, Y/N.”

Following the tow truck pulling your car, she lets out a heavy sigh as her head hangs seeing a face you both recognize as he steps out towards the vehicle and speaks with the driver before heading towards you both.

“What are you doing here? You’re normally off on Wednesdays.”, Paige growls as Eddie scans her over drying his hands on the rag from his back pocket.

“I’ve, um, been doing some overtime. What happened, sweetheart? Your car die?”

“No. My friend’s.”, she gestures towards you.

Without looking your way, he nods and guides you both towards the garage before popping the hood.

“Go ahead and take a seat in the lobby. Y/N…was it? Can you stay and tell me what’s been going on with the vehicle?”

“Yeah, sure.”, you affirm, nodding towards Paige to assure her that you could handle yourself as she disappeared into the building.

“Jesus Christ, I can already tell you this engine is shot.”, Eddie sighs as he leans under the hood.

“Yeah, um, I’ve had it for years and it was my dads before that. It runs but sometimes if I go over a certain speed this part—”

“Careful!”, he shouts as he hastily grabs your hand before you can touch anything.

Time seems to stop as his fingers connect with your skin. You didn’t realize how deeply you missed that feeling and when his eyes finally met yours you knew he felt it to.

“Don’t…don’t want you to get burned.”, Eddie mumbled as he let you go and turned back around.

“I’ve been burned before.”, you sigh causing his head to hang. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“You’re right. I guess I don’t deserve an explanation or anything.”

His chocolate eyes glare your way before focusing on the parts in front of him once more.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, your fucking actions did.”, you growl. “I guess Paige was right about you.”

“Listen here, little girl.”, he grumbles as he stands up straight and points his finger at your chest. “You don’t know fucking anything about me or my family so I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Glaring his way, you take one step forward till the tip of his index was pressing hard into your skin.

“You’re right, I don’t because you didn’t call and what you did fucking tell me was a lie.”

“I DIDN’T—“, he starts to shout before looking around, grabbing your wrist, and dragging you to an office in the back of the garage. “I didn’t lie.”

“You said you weren’t married.”

“I’m in the middle of a divorce.”

“Don’t play semantics with me!” As he starts to lift his hand to silence you, you shove his chest. “You said you were a boxer.”

“I AM a boxer.”, Eddie grunts with annoyance and as your eyes search his, you realize you’ve touched a nerve.

“You made it sound like it was your career. You’re a fucking mechanic.”

“I’m working and training to make that my career. I work here to make money for my family.”

“That you left.”

The man steps towards closer till his nose is hover just above your own.

“I said shut your fucking mouth. I love my daughter and I loved my wife before we separated. There are things Paige doesn’t know and I plan to keep it that way because what happened in our marriage should be between me and her mother. Even though she keeps dragging her into our business…”

Your gaze remains locked with his till a heavy sigh leaves your chest and an involuntary tear slides down your cheek.

“You hurt me.”, your whisper causing his strong features to falter. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even want to go on that stupid date but then I met you and we had a good time… I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate that some of your cologne is still clinging to my fucking dress. I hate that I miss your lips and the way you made me feel—”

Abruptly, Eddie’s hands cupped your cheeks and his mouth crashed to yours. Your arms circled around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, your fists clenching around his dirty jumpsuit.

“I’m sorry.”, he murmured when he pulled back enough to allow you both to get some air. “I never meant to hurt you… I liked being with you to, sweetheart, and not just sexually, but this is wrong.”

“I know, Daddy, I know.” At your words, a strong groan leaves his lips as his forehead rests against yours. “H-Have you been thinking about me to?”

You knew it wasn’t right but you couldn’t help dropping into that headspace. You had felt so vulnerable these last couple of weeks and he had been the only man in a long time to make you feel cared for. To have him in front of you after missing him so much was making you needy and the desperate energy that was radiating from him wasn’t helping.

“Why do you think I’ve been working so much overtime?”, he chuckles. “I needed a distraction because every waking moment I miss your face. I dream about you, Y/N.”

As he continues to speak, your hips grind against his allowing the prominent dent below his waist graze along your panty covered core.

“I can smell your perfume on my sheets. When I’m training, I picture you watching me like you did when I first saw you. Sometimes—shit—sometimes I imagine I’m punching that fucking idiot that hurt you.” Eddie smiles when a breathy laugh leaves your lips. “When I’m on my bike, I wish you were holding me like you did on the ride back to the gym. Jesus, any chance to feel you’re your sexy legs wrapped around me…”

“Like this?”, you ask, lifting one of your legs around his waist.

At the action, his head falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder, pressing himself harder against you as he rubs his crotch against your center.

“Ah my god, baby.”, he whispers causing you to shutter as you try to pull him closer to you. “Fuck this.”

At Eddie’s abrupt grunt of annoyance, he pulls away enough to unzip his jumpsuit and push it down just below his waist. Your eyes take in the beads of sweat that cling to his muscular arms and chest, ready and willing to lick it off his skin if he wanted. After moving your panties to the side, he maneuvered his hips till his cock slid a bit roughly into your entrance.

“Mmph—so big, Daddy. I missed having you inside me…so deep.”

His large palm gripped the back of your thigh, pulling it high up his waist while his open mouth kisses along your throat had your eyes rolling.

“J-Just like that, baby, please. I need your cum. Please, cum with me.”

Rolling his hips, Eddie repeatedly slammed into that spongy spot inside at you, leaving you a trembling mess as you clung your arms around his neck and smothered your whimper in his shoulder as you came.

It didn’t take him long to follow as he groaned and his fingers dug into your skin as his release coated your insides.

Neither of you moved as you panted in each other’s embrace.

“Edward Munson!?”

At the sound of his name, you half expected him to jump away from you and adjust himself but when fingers gripped you tighter you were surprised.

“Who is that?”, you whisper calmly.

“My boss.”, he replies in an equally lower register.

“Should you get back out there?”

When he nods, you begin to lower your leg but he just holds you tighter as he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

“I don’t want to let you go.”, Eddie murmurs into your skin. “If I do…the reality of our situation comes back and…I don’t want that, Y/N.”

Your fingers tenderly thread through his hair as you duck your head so your lips can kiss his.

“I know, baby, I know. I don’t know what to do though.”

“Me either.”

“EDWARD MUNSON!”

“YEAH! I’m fucking coming! Give me a goddamn minute!”, he shouts before backing away from you and adjusting your outfit. “Maybe…maybe we can just be friends…at least. I miss your voice…”

“Ok.”

Your eyes lock with his after watching him tie the upper half of his jumpsuit around his waist.

“Ok.” Turning around, he grabs some paper off the desk behind him and writes down his phone number. “Text or call if you need anything or just want to talk. I’ll reach out to you later about your car. It’s going to take longer than a night to fix. Do either of you need a ride?”

“Oh, um, no. Paige and I followed the tow truck in her car so we can take that home.”

“Oh, pfft, that’s right. My brain sometimes...”

“I understand.”, you smile as you start to walk away but his hand around your wrist tugs you back as his lips lightly kiss yours again.

“I just wanted to taste you one last time.”

“One last time.”, you repeat before turning to leave.

***

There were many “last times” over the next couple of months.

You two couldn’t stay away from each other for long but you knew this was wrong so after every intimate moment or night spent together, you promised this would be it. Especially since, according to Paige, Eddie was trying to be more in her life.

“I’m trying to let him in more but with the divorce hearing and everything, my mom is flipping her lid. My graduate school is doing that exhibit for art students and I want them both to go but I don’t want it to be thing.”

“I understand, honey. This is a big deal for you and your work is amazing. All the attention should be on you. The few times I’ve talked with your parents, they seem like they can keep it together for one night.”

“Hm.”, she sasses as she rolls her eyes making you laugh. “You’ll be there right?”

“Of course. I’m taking the night off to be there.”

“Good.”, she sighs as she leans her head on your shoulder. “You can help be my referee.”

You smiled and nodded but that was the absolute last thing you wanted to be.

***

The smell of rubber and sweat promptly hit you as soon as you open the gym door with the key Eddie gave you. He had already moved into his new apartment but the metalhead liked to come by after work and train as much as he could.

They gym itself closed around 8pm but the owner seemed to trust this particular boxer, allowing him to come and go at will. When you found him, you could vaguely hear the metal music that was blasting from his headphones as he punched the bag in front of him.

Eddie’s eyes were zeroed in on his target as he continued to follow one swing with another. Sauntering to his phone on the edge of the ring, you couldn’t help but take in the picture of him and a much younger Paige on his lockscreen as he kissed her cheek while she smiled at the camera. They both looked so happy.

Pausing his music, he angrily turned before realizing it was you and his gaze immediately softened.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you.”, panted as he removed his gloves and took out the earbuds. “Everything all right?”

With a half smile you flashed him his phone screen and he cautiously came over to sit beside you as he continued to try to get a read on what was going on inside your head.

“I still remember when that was taken. Paige was about ten or eleven and the three of us went to a park to have fun. She lifted her arms in that boxing stance and took a couple of light swings.”, he chuckles. “That was a few months before I started training. I had mentioned to her how when I was her age I wanted to be a boxer. She encouraged me to try… I don’t know if she even remembers that after everything.”

“She’s worried about the exhibit this weekend. She’s afraid that you and your ex will fight and ruin a night that’s supposed to be about her.”

Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut as he sighs and takes your hand in his.

“I can understand why she would feel that way. My ex and I… I’ve tried so hard to…”, he stutters as he struggles to find the words.

“I feel bad, Eddie.”, you whisper as his chocolate irises find yours. “She’s right. This should be about her but this is the first time I’m going to be in the same room with you two since my car broke down AND your ex, her mom, who I’ve met will be there…”

“Sweetheart, baby, come on. Everything’s going to be alright.”, he coos as he kisses your forehead. “Just be yourself and focus on Paige. I can handle the rest.”

############

“Calm down.”, you tease as you tug lightly on your roommate’s skirt as she dances in front of her artwork.

“I’m calm! I’m calm. I’m just so excited.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie beamed as he sauntered towards Paige and reached down for a hug that she eagerly accepted. You knew she would be more open tonight because she was in such a good mood and the warmth that glowed from the metalhead as she wrapped her arms around him had you grinning from ear to ear.

You liked seeing them both happy.

“Hey there, Y/N.”, he greets politely as he tosses you a smile. “Geez, you both look gorgeous. I feel like I’m underdressed.”

Since you met him, you had never seen Eddie this dressed up and to you he looked as delicious as ever in his suit and tie with his hair pulled back out of his face. The man tried to control his eyes as they raked across you in your cute blue dress that rested just above your knees.

“I think you look great, dad. Oh, there’s my professor. I’ll be right back! Y/N, show him my work.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her excitedly bounce away before focusing on her art hanging on the wall.

“Paige was always a really talented artist.”, he muses as he absorbs the image in front of him. “I, uh, I guess I see now why you didn’t make the connection that we were related.”, the man murmurs sullenly as he gestures towards her signature.

Paige Davis

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”, you whisper back wishing desperately that you could hold him.

As the night wore on, you remained next to your friend while her father roamed the area occasionally sneaking glances at you from afar. He absolutely adored what a caring friend you were to his daughter knowing that’s exactly what she needed with everything going on in her life.

He always hated that his ex insisted on telling Paige everything going on in their divorce even more so that he knew she was purposely omitting truths to make him look like that asshole. Eddie could do the same if he wanted to but he refused to stoop that low and not just because it was wrong to pull her into that but because he also knew how much Paige loved her mother. He knew how important it was to have her in his daughter’s life after losing his own at such a young age so he chose to allow the narrative to continue even if that made him the bad guy.

He just prayed you didn’t see him that way either.

The boxer hated having to hide you knowing a beautiful woman like you deserved to be lavished and seen.

But what could he do?

Not only were you his daughter’s friend but he was going through a messy divorce, in-between careers, barely had an income, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say the age difference made him feel slightly insecure.

Eddie accepted the way things were at the moment but he knew it couldn’t stay that way forever.

“Paige, honey, oh my god, this is amazing.”, her mom squealed as you watched them both hug. “Hey, Y/N, how are you? You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Ms. Davis.”, you awkwardly smile as she leans down to hug you as well.

“Now, who do I speak with to buy this gorgeous work of art?”

“Mom. My professor has to review it first along with all the others.”, Paige whines.

“I mean, obviously, you’ll get a good grade.”

The smell of his cologne hits you before your friend’s nervous eyes do.

“You know maybe Dominick would like it in his living room so we can show it off you know? Oh, hey Edward.”, her mother coos in a syrupy tone that has even you wanting to roll your eyes.

“Ava.”, Eddie greets. “How are you?”

“Great! Absolutely wonderful.”

As the night progresses, something changes. Paige, who had been spending most of the night in front of her artwork, had vanished and you promptly went on the hunt for her before finding her in a bathroom stall.

“Paige? Oh my.”, you sass as you inhale the smell of liquor wafting from her lips when you open the door to check in.

“Hey, Y/N! My bes fer-en.”, she slurs.

“Ok, how much have you had, honey? Don’t you still need to talk to your professor?”

“Pfft, no. I done. Uh oh…”, she chuckles before throwing herself over the toilet to vomit.

“Alright, sweetie. You’re ok. Get it all out.”

“My-my mom invited her boyfr-en. I mean…I guess he’s not technically her boyfr-en…I don’t know. Ma dad is gonna be pissed.”, she giggles as you help her to her feet and guide her to the sink to wash her hands and face.

“Let’s talk about that later. Like you said, tonight is supposed to be about you.”

“I don know why he be so angry. I think he has a girlfr-en or something. Plus, they haven’t been together for a year.”

You try to block out her words but it’s hard especially when you walk her out the door and are suddenly bombarded by the sound of yelling.

“Tonight was supposed to be about her, Ava!”

“HEY! I’m only going to say this one more fucking time. Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that!”

“You don’t have any fucking say in this as far as I’m concerned! Now excuse me while I talk to the mother of my fucking child.”

“She’s not a child, Edward, and she doesn’t mind that I bring him. You’re the one that seems to be causing the problem and putting attention on yourself.”

“That’s right. Make me the fucking bad guy even though you’ve been parading him around in front of me the last couple of hours.”

The sound of your grunt as Paige collapses in your arms grabs their attention as all eyes turn your way.

“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…she’s drunk. I was just trying to get her to my car…”

“No, um, no worries, Y/N, I can take her.”

As the other man steps forward, you spin your friend out of his grasp.

“I know them. I don’t know you.”, you growl. “All I know is that you being here upset her so I’m not letting you touch her.”

“Dom, it’s ok, baby.”, she calls his way before glaring at Eddie. “This your fucking fault.”

“She didn’t want him here, Ava.”

“No, you don’t want him here.”, she hisses before taking her boyfriend’s hand and heading to their car.

Angerly, he stalks your way and collects his daughter in his arms.

“I’ll follow you to your place and help you get her in bed.”, he grumbles, buckling her in before heading for his motorcycle.

***

“I don’t think I’ve seen your room before.”, he sighs with a smile as he looks around at all your things.

After getting Paige in bed, he took the opportunity and followed you across the hall into your bedroom. Eddie took solace in the fact that you were a bit messy like him, taking note of all the clothes on the floor and your bed half made. You had posters of different movies as well as some of your friend’s artwork that he immediately recognized.

You watch as he picks up random items on your dresser including your perfume that he inhales and smirks at the familiar scent.

“My parents.”, you answer when he flashes you a photo in a frame.

“You look like them.”

“Eddie, why does her boyfriend make you so jealous?”

At your question, he sighs as he places the image back down and turns to face you leaning against the furniture.

“I don’t know.”, he shrugs. “Maybe it’s because we aren’t even fucking divorced yet and she’s calling him her boyfriend while talking about him like he’s the love of her fucking life.”

“You two aren’t divorced and you’re fucking me.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

His large chocolate eyes meet yours before coming around and descending to his knees in front of you.

“Y/N, I did everything and I mean EVERYTHING to make my marriage work. It was never enough. To her…I had failed as a husband and she was…is…going to whatever she can to punish me for that.” As your gaze shifts to the floor, his fingers quickly grab your chin to bring your focus back to him. “Talk to me.”

“I think…the reason it’s different is because she can parade him around and claim him. You can’t do that with me.”

“I want to.”, he whispers. “More than anything.”

“But…”

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N. It would fucking kill Paige if she found out but I know it’s killing you, sweetheart. You deserve to be seen and shown off.”

“Eddie…maybe, we—”

“Don’t. Please don’t say we should stop.”, he murmurs as his head falls into your lap and on impulse your hand comes up to run your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to lose you, baby.”

Hearing your sniffles, he lifts his head and his palms cup your cheeks as he catches your tears with his thumbs.

“No, princess, no. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here, baby girl. Everything’s going to be ok.”

Collecting you in his arms, you allow him to hold you as he continuous to whisper soft words of endearment and adoration. After a while, you allow him to undress you and make love to you; his palm clasped over your mouth to silence the screams that are on the edge of your tongue with every orgasm he pulls from you.

“Can I stay? I promise I’ll leave as soon as the sun comes up.”, Eddie murmurs as he continues to trail gently pecks along your skin. “I just don’t want to let you go right now.”

You nod knowing “right now” will eventually come. You fall asleep in his arms and wake up alone but unlike other nights where you both had done this…this time kills you.

#################

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he slams the phone a bit to roughly on the table in front of him. It had been a few days since he had heard from you and he was starting to get incredibly worried. Usually if you couldn’t talk, you would leave a little emoji or tell him you’d reply “ASAP” but since that night after his daughter’s exhibit, you would read his messages but never reply.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey…hey, Paige, sweetheart. It’s good to see you.”, he grins as he tries to hide his pain so he can enjoy lunch with his daughter. They rarely did this anymore and he savored every moment he got. “How are you? Tell me everything.”

One of the many traits she got from him was her gift of gab. Once she started talking, she could go on and on and Eddie loved it. He absorbed everything she said and laughed whenever she would make a little joke at her expense.

“Ugh and then Y/N’s got her own bit of chaos.”

At the sound of your name, he tried not to let the concern show on his face as he casually replied, “Oh yeah? What’s going on with her?”

“I guess her and that boxer guy she liked split or something. She spent the last couple of days just completely broken and sobbing. We’ve had a lot of girl’s nights filled with ice cream and movies.”, she giggled before sighing as Eddie’s heart breaks.

You hadn’t said you wanted to stop seeing him, not directly, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything to make you think he wanted your relationship to end. He cared about you very much and hated not being around you or hearing from you.

“And of course, guess who calls like dog who can sense that she’s upset? Her fucking ex. Oh shit, dad! Are you ok?!”

Eddie hadn’t realized that while Paige was speaking, his grip around his glass had gotten tighter and tighter until she mentioned your ex causing it to break under his grasp.

“Huh? Fuck. Yeah, I’m fine.”, he replies as he reaches for napkins to clean up the mess. “So did they get back together or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She’s had dinner with him a couple of times but I don’t think they are. She said she wanted to go slow and hear what he had to say. I mean they were together for a while.”

“Yeah…well, shit. Good for her, I guess.”, he seethes.

“Yeah. I told her I was going to your match on Saturday with my boyfriend and that she should come so I can vet him. See what he’s up to but she seemed skeptical about going. Maybe she’s afraid the boxer guy will be there to. Do you know who he is? She’s never told me his name.”

“Uh, no I don’t but tell her they both should come. The more the merrier and if that boxer guy shows up, I can kick his ass. Maybe we can all have dinner together and I can help you vet him.”

Paige laughs when he lightly taps her hand.

“Won’t it be weird? You’ll be like a fifth wheel.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure I can find someone to bring along. If you’re ok with that, of course.”

“Ok! Sounds like a plan. This is going to be interesting.”

She had no idea.

###################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity

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catsukkii · 2 days ago

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okay so!

i have been craving an idea... knowing on the bars of my cage... for a katsuki × retired!pro hero... Still young, in her early twenties, who was put out of commission for an injury on the field. From there, she practically goes M.I.A and isolates herself, until Katsuki is finally able to track her down and just finds that she turned from a happy-go-lucky person to someone who is grumpy and brash, refusing help and avoiding him. essentially it's angst/comfort, which I think you could do perfectly! feel free to add any other elements

HELLLOOO BEAUTIFUL!! THIS IS A WONDERFULLL IDEA I HOPE I CAN EXECUTE IT TO YOUR LIKING! 🥹 I messed around with the request and made it so she accepts his help instead I HOPE THATS OKAY WITH YOUU !! 😭

Chasing shadows, chasing you. — katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…as the request says, you were put out of commission for an intense injury, in a frustrated rush you run away from the place that held your dreams, to a small run down town to live in a shack in the middle of nowhere. months add up and you accept nobody will find you, just as you wanted. until a knock is at your door.

Pairing; Katsuki Bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; swearing, angst/comfort, fluff at the end, swearing, mentions of injury, depression implied, LOWKEY selfish reader (but not intentionally), sad sad stuff, bakugo may be a lil ooc…, not proof read so it may suck ass

Word count; somewhere over 1k 😭

A/N; THIS REQUEST WAS LOVEEELY AND IM SORRY IT KIND OF JUMPED ALL OVER THE PLACE! I HOPE YOURE HAPPY WITH THE OUTCOME MY LOVEEE!! 🫶🏻 this is going to flop awfully I feel like I could’ve done so much better OUUUCH

frustrated. that’s what you were. angry. It was ridiculous, a stupid injury and now you can never work again? stupid. It was stupid. having to give up on the dream you had just reached all for your own rookie mistake.

so you ran, you couldn’t stand being in the town where all the big-shot hero’s were, constantly staring at what you could’ve become. what was the point in staying? your dreams were shattered, crushed.

you packed your stuff, and ran from the place that once held your dreams, now a place that would haunt you.

of course, people were concerned. you were an amazing hero, and that injury was practically fatal, just to never be heard of again? the media assumed everything was under wraps for the time being, giving you space to recover. but the more months that went by the more the media pressed.

eventually, the authorities had to make a statement, you were missing completely mia. they didn’t know where you were or what happened, of course this caused an uproar among thousands.

you scoff at the tv, and the crowd going out of control. you reach for the tv remote, ready to turn it off before they spoke,

“we have a team of police and hero’s searching, don’t fret, she will be found.” you roll your eyes at this.

“dynamight will be leading the case, considering they were the closest and even he has no idea what happened.” you still your movements. katsuki? you had grown close throughout the years, but would he really go searching for you? was it just to calm civilians? was he forced into it?

thoughts running through your head, you turn the tv off and sigh, walking to your sad kitchen filled with barely enough food. you avoided grocery stores for obvious reasons. doordash bags scattered on the ground, takeout boxes covering your island, it was a mess. you had no motivation to clean, train, do anything. everything you once loved only reminded you of the incident.

you lean your elbows onto the cold island counter, burying your head in your hands with a long sigh. how could you even face katsuki after all this? what if he really did find you and show up? would he be upset at you? he had good reason but he must’ve understand where you were coming from right?

the thoughts clouded your head, you remove your head from its place in your hands, and look up at the light. a weak attempt to stop the tears that brinked your lash line.

It had been months. you had forgotten about the whole katsuki thing, surely they’d have stopped their searching by now. most of your days were filled with unnecessary naps, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, and occasionally watching some dumb show on tv. you were miserable, your once bright smile has turned into a permanent frown. your sparkling eyes, filled with hopes and dreams, we’re now dead and empty.

knock knock.

the mail, probably. you shake the chip crumbs off of you, and force yourself to spring up off the couch.

knock knock kno—

“I’m coming!” you groan, hes never been this persistent..must have a lot of houses to get to. you make your way to the door, attempting to fix your tangled hair to the best of your abilities, you open the door and immediately a man’s voice speaks.

“hello, I’m dynamight and we’ve been looki—“ he freezes, you freeze. the shell shocked expression on both of your faces, brows raised, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly parted. your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at the sight, fuck had he really been looking all this time? and why is it just him?

“…y/n.” he speaks with the same shocked tone, almost as if he was wondering if you were real or a hallucination. all you could do was stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.

“kat..katsuki—why did—how did you even find me?” you open the door to its full capacity, backing away slightly; he takes this as a sign and steps into the entry of your sad little cottage, silence filled the house more then chatter, both of you still in disbelief.

“I searched—“ he cuts himself off with a harsh swallow. “I searched everywhere for you y/n. why—I don’t…why did you leave?” the question causes a lump to build in your throat, you didn’t know a good answer. hell, you didn’t know if there was a good answer.

silence passed for a minute as you thought, you move out of his way slightly and mumble a “come in.” he nods and steps out of the way, letting you close the door softly as his boots stomp dirt all through your house, not like it’s hurting the piles of dust that were already scattered among your floor.

he sits himself down on your small cheap couch, and crosses his ankles awkwardly, you sit down on the opposite side creating as much distance as possible, more silence looms in the air, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I missed you.” he grumbles quietly, you bit your lip, staring at the floor avoiding his gaze. “I missed you too.” you speak softly, he nods slowly in understanding. neither of you knew where to go from here.

“so..why. why y/n? why did you leave me? everybody?” all he could muster was ‘why.’ because that was the only question on his mind for borderline a year, just as you open your mouth to speak he continues,

“I mean fuck—“ he lets out a faux laugh, trying to ignore the fact he just wanted to sob right now. “I was so worried, so goddamn worried. All I wanted was confirmation you were safe, do you know how hard it was?” you shake your head no softly, there was nothing you could say at this point.

“everybody pressing me constantly. ‘what happened to athena.’, ‘are you covering for athena?’ ‘how could you not know where she is?’” as he repeats what people were telling him, it makes you realize how selfish you were.

“katsuki i didnt—“ he cut you off quickly. “didnt what hm? y/n I searched every. fucking. day. the authorities even stopped looking for you, but I never did.” tears watered your lash line threatening to spill at any moment, why did he keep looking even when everybody else had given up on you?

“I’m sorry.” you spoke softly, a tear dripping down your eye slowly, which you quickly wipe away. he sighs and rubs a hand through his hair, silence and a few tears go by before he speaks up,

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to blow up like that. I was just worried sick y/n. I was worried something happened to you..” you nod in understandment, you would have been worried if this happened with katsuki.

“I just wasn’t thinking—“ he shushes you. “I know. I know…” even more silence passes, but a comfortable one now, the tension no longer growing in the air.

“I seriously did miss you..you were all I thought about.” you broke the silence, he let out a soft laugh, you missed his laugh.

“I missed you too…or whatever tch.” he scoffs and looks away, putting his nonchalant persona back on playfully, causing you to laugh yourself.

the rest of the night was filled with chatter, catching up on everything eachother had missed, mostly hearing about how katsuki went door to door to almost every town in Japan until he found even a trace of you. It caused your heart to swell at his thoughtfulness, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for all the trouble you put him through.

the days go by, and he makes daily visits, attempting to get your so called house back in shape, but he proposes a suggestion.

“yknow,” he starts, holding another bag of trash in his hand. “my house is pretty big, and I have a guest bedroom maybe you could— ah, I don’t know, move in? atleast for the time being.” you were caught off guard at his gesture, the wide smile you’ve gained back over the days seeing katsuki, mixing with your brows furrowed in confusion, you wait for a remark of him joking but it never comes, your face drops into a more serious expression.

“you serious?” he nods curtly, “dead serious.” your face turns into a bright smile again, and you nod slowly before exclaiming,

“yeah…yeah! yeah, what the hell? of course!?” he laughs at your enthusiasm. “alright, start packin be ready by tomorrow.”

“TOMORROW!?” you screech in shock and he gives you a confused look as if it was a casual encounter. “yeah? best of the best moving.” you jaw drops in shock before you sigh stressfully at the thought of packing in a day but…now that you think about it, it probably won’t take that long considering you only have necessities in your house, and you don’t have to move furniture so…

I guess you’re going back home.

a/n; this is so rushed and kinda jumps all over the place I’m so sorry growls

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mrsriddlenott · 3 days ago

Text

Small blurb while I work on part two of Teach Me, Please ❤️😚

JJ Maybank x Rafe’s GF!Reader

Warnings: piv, angst&fluff, crying during sex, kinda manipulative JJ but he cares, cheating&talks of toxic relationship.

{masterlist}

————

“Faster Jay,” You beg as JJ hovers above you, his teasing pace starting to piss you off, “I came to you so you would make me cum now do it.”

“You’re the one who keeps crawling to me beggin’ on your knees Mama so you’re gonna take what I give you,” he groans, moaning as he slowing pulls out of you. Watching where you connect as you whimper below him, eyes furrowing when he snaps back into you forcing you to moan loudly. JJ drives himself into you repeatedly, wanting to hear you moan while you try to talk back to him. “Can he not make you cum like I do? Why are you so desperate all the time?”

“Please Jay, I’ll do anything if you just make me cum already. He doesn’t care about me, he never did.” Moaning as you mumble and try to speak you worry JJ can’t understand you, but he does. His eyes snapping open, a smirk growing on his face as he stares down at you.

“Would you leave him for me?” He asks, his hips stuttering into you before stopping completely, his eyes locked on yours from where he holds himself above you.

“I can’t, you know I can’t, he won’t let me,” You feel tears welling in your eyes as JJ’s head dips to yours, kissing your cheeks as he whispers to you not to cry. Slowly starting to rock his hips against yours, making you moan below him, letting your tears drip down your cheeks and onto his pillow.

“I’ll help you, I can help you in more ways than just this if you would just let me.” He begs you, slowly fucking into you at his words, pace picking up as your walls start to crumble, finally letting him in after so long.

“Please Jay, just fuck me and we can talk later.” His hips snap into yours with a groan, growling into your ear. His lips that were softly kissing against your cheeks drop to bite into your neck, marking you as you scold him.

“I’ll let you cum don’t worry you brat, but don’t fucking come back until you realize who will treat you right.” JJ speeds up his pace to what he knows you like, groaning as you moan under him, thanking him with whimpers and mewls of appreciation.

“I don’t want to leave,” You cry, gripping at his back and dragging your nails down to leave red marks across his muscular frame.

“Then don’t leave, fucking stay with me for once and then we can talk.” JJ’s eyes find yours before smashing his lips into you, moaning as your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth. Fighting each other as your legs lock around him, pulling him into you deeper as you clench around him, trapping him inside you and letting his tip caress your cervix. The feeling of him filling you entirely forces a strangled moan from you, moaning into him like a praise.

“I’m staying,” You moan against his lips, your hips bucking up to match his pace, “I want to stay with you.”

————

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x yn #smut #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank angst #fluff #angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #obx smut #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction

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lara4eclipze · 1 day ago

Note

Hey so this is a very quick response but I’ve kinda had this idea sitting for a fat minute lol.. ANYWAY could you do like a slight angst fic where Yoonchae has a crush on the reader but the reader has a crush on a boy??

›› c'est la vie

sypnosis -» yoonchae has the hardest time confessing to you — with the kats by her side she finally takes the first step

beware -» fluff , slight angst , confession , very short fic , swearing , loser yooonchae ,

talks -» combined this two asks , I'm writing this instead of writing my marz fic since erm idk how the story is going, hope y'all like it mwa

taglist (open): @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

yoonchae was whipped the minute she saw you , the way your hair frames your face , how your lips were perfect and every time you smiled her day would've been made in an instant

yet there was one problem — you were "straight" , I mean everyone in the friend group knows you like arkin but no one really approved of it , you were top of your classes and arkin was the complete opposite

yoonchae was obviously very heartbroken to know you like someone like that , I mean cant you just look at her for a minute instead of falling in love with a man who can't even study even if his life depends on it?

"we should go here" megan exclaims showing a newly opened café — the café wasn't that far but it had the amazing view of the scenery of the city

"oh my gosh it's so cute!!" sophia says excitedly , you took a peek and it was amazing , plus you all needed a break from school anyways

"let's go later?" lara asks already checking if the place is open at night on her phone

"sure!!"

"I'm down"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

it was actually a plan by the girls , no the café wasn't new , they knew that they had to help out yoonchae , the girl was actually a loser — I mean everytime you talked about arkin it was obvious that yoonchae was disinterested the way her eye suddenly look hurt and upset

"you got this, calm down your sweating" megan teases the youngest , as yoonchae was getting the flowers and bracelet ready

"what if I mess up in front of her , what if she rejects me?!" yoonchae stammers her mind racing with thoughts , "hey listen to me , that wouldn't happen okay?" megan pipes up

their conversation got cut short when you , lara and sophia were finally in the café , you scan the place and went to the table you saw megan, yoonchae , manon and dani sit in

"hi , sorry we're late , LA traffic y'know" you apologize, sitting down you were a tad bit confused on why the girls were exchanging looks , you wanted to know what that meant why yoonchae seemed off , why megan kept looking at you and yoonchae

"what's wrong? — did I miss something?" you ask , sophia bumps yoonchae , "oh- uh can we maybe talk outside?" yoonchae asks which you nod to

you two walked outside, the view was wonderful, city lights and a cold breeze in the air

"why ,what did you want to tell me yoonie?" you ask curiously , the younger looks at you with sparkles in her eyes she looked amazing

"y/n i-i- I like you" yoonchae finally says handing you the flowers and the bracelet , for a moment you were frozen in spot , you didn't know what to say neither if you even can say anything

"I'm sorry, I know you like arkin I should've just not done this" the younger says , she turns to walk back in , but you stop her , you felt the same way yet you never knew that yoonchae liked you

"I like you too , and no I don't like arkin I don't know where you got that from but he's my cousin" you chuckle

"you do?! — oh my gosh this is so embarrassing!" yoonchae exclaims , you laugh at how the younger seemed to panic

"I knew the plan — you're not slick yoonie the minute I walked in here i already saw the bracelet and flowers, I'm just surprised it took you this long to confess" you admit to her , she was flushed god she so adorable

"now lets go back in — I love you yoonie" you say to her as you held her hand and walked back in the café earning you giggles and teasing from the rest

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what now?" yoonchae asks as you both stand outside her house

"we'll figure it out , that's life right?" you replied smiling at her

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #jeong yoonchae #katseye yoonchae

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Think of reading things I write like a scavenger hunt where only I know what you're looking for. <3

Chapter Title from Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party.

Word Count: 26.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben return home, and it's time to work. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, fluff, angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 28 - Chapter 30

Ben didn’t like having to hide Her.

He didn’t like keeping Her fucking secret. She shouldn’t be secret. Ben should be able to hold Her high to the sun, so she can be in a warm, clear, unwavering light that didn’t flicker or wash out a single feature of her perfect face. The lights of the airplane cabin and airport were too fucking blue, flickering and making everything have a sense of being artificial. None of this shit should be artificial, because this was the realest thing in Ben’s life, and he wanted to tell the sky and stars and every space between about it.

Ben should be able to stand up and fucking roar that She wanted him. That they were going to get married, and there wasn’t a single goddamn thing any pussy fucker could do about it, because She’d chosen him. She was wearing the ring Ben had bought her, and holding his hand, and sleeping against his chest. There was a little drool falling out of her perfect mouth and staining Ben’s shirt, and her arms were wrapped around his torso, and her completely relaxed face was pressed into his body. Because She’d fucking chosen Ben. He kept her safe, and happy, and made her feel loved like she deserved to be, so She’d chosen Ben.

And he wanted to fucking scream that. That the most perfect, beautiful woman to ever grace this stupid fucking planet wanted him. That every fucking way, She wanted Ben. And now Her beauty was everyone’s to see, but only Ben’s to hold. To care for and adore. Only Ben got to see Her wild, glossy eyes and her parted, swollen lips when he fucked her. Only Ben got to touch the softest, most vulnerable and delicate pieces of her heart and mind, because she trusted him to tend to them and sooth them over. And only She got to see the parts of Ben nobody had been ever meant to witness. The storm that she’d coaxed out of him, that would sweep over his body and make him momentarily so fucking weak, and that she’d wait out with him until it passed. She’d let Ben rest his head near Her heart—where he could be a little more certain she was real—and sing to him until there wasn’t a swell in his throat and the world wasn’t blurred around him. Until he stopped making wrathful, pathetic fucking sounds he muffled in Her skin, and then could stay there a long while after.

Forever. She was going to be able to hold Ben like that for fucking ever. She’d have likely done that anyway—Ben was never going to let that piece of Her, alive inside him, wither and crack and shatter—but now he’d be able to walk into a stupid, disgusting gas station and know that everyone could see She’d chosen him. Ben could pick her a million flowers, plant Her a goddamn garden—have MM plant Her a garden, Ben didn’t actually know how to do that—and if people tried so say something he could shout that it was for his wife. He was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted for his wife. Whatever She asked of him, Ben would do.

Because She’d still give all Her beauty away to whoever asked for it—She’d cut herself open and offer kindness to assholes who didn’t deserve it and motherfucking pussies who wasted it, wasted Her—but Ben would throw it right back into her. He’d give Her all the good things he had to offer, because he still didn’t really deserve her, but he did fucking love her, and Christ, he had to make that worth something. Make it worth what She was, which was everything. She was fucking perfect, and she was Ben’s, just as he was Her’s. Ben had Her, he’d always have her, and he would never have to be alone and hated again, because She’d looked at him and decided that he was worth loving a little more than she loved everything else.

A lot more. Ben was pretty fucking certain She loved him a lot more than everything else. That when She’d cling to his arm like he might drift away, or kissing over his beard with soft lips and mumbled words of affection that made Ben’s whole fucking body even more of a tool for her to use, it was because she loved him a lot more than anything else.

And now Ben had a hacked and carved out path ahead of them where he could keep loving Her until the world burned out. And everyone should fucking know. Everyone should understand that Ben loved Her, and She loved him, and that was that.

But he had to hide Her. Ben had to keep himself angled to block her from view, keep his own baseball cap tilted down to hide his face from view. To hide from every television in the Airport, all playing the same fucking lie, all with Sage’s eyes seeming to track them through the screens.

The news had broken while they were still in the air. They weren’t even halfway over the Atlantic when She froze at Ben’s side, and he started to feel cold and sick. He’d turned to press for what the fuck was wrong—why her heart was set to a pace that kicked his own up and made blood pound in his ears—and she’d passed him the phone without a word.

On the screen was a photo of Sage standing at a news podium—her expression grim and dramatically pained—and a headline that made Ben’s teeth almost crack.

Sister Sage Accuses the Anomaly of Treason.

The article itself was long and pointlessly detailed. Half of it was just a useless and incorrect timeline of everything about Her, and it took Ben almost two fucking minutes to find what Sage had actually goddamn said.

She was a terrorist. She had been behind the Believe Expo attack, and Tek Knight massacre, and deaths of Black Noir and A-Train. She was responsible for destruction of numerous properties—Vought, Government, and private owned alike—was a Deep state leader, and had been the mastermind behind the assassinations of Victoria Neuman and Grace Mallory in order to clear the path to the White House. She’d been intending to help her stepfather, Secretary Todd Muller—Sage had implied some truly fucking disgusting things about their relationship that made Ben see red—gain the VP slot, and Her next victim would likely have been President Robert Singer himself if Sage hadn’t outsmarted her and blocked Her plan.

But now Secretary Muller was out of the running—and under federal investigation for co-conspiracy—so Homelander was in contention for the position. And the only way to keep America safe was to appoint him to the White House, because She was evil and powerful, and wanted to take away American liberties.

Sage had apologized for keeping this information secret, but claimed that she’d been trying to prevent public distress or panic. That Vought had been working on a private operation to apprehend Her and bring her to justice following her betrayal of America and Homelander, but had decided She was too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely and without fear of consequence.

Ben was mentioned. She’d run away with Soldier Boy, and turned America’s Son and former greatest patriot into a socialist with the same manipulation tactics she’d used on Homelander. Gotten Soldier Boy to fall in love with her when She’d decided Homelander wasn’t enough for her, and was now trying to use him to fuel her fascist overtaking of the government. She’d gotten Soldier Boy to kidnap Ryan, and he was willing to work with the very people who’d betrayed him in the first place because She’d just sunken her claws that deep.

That last part wasn’t entirely a fucking lie. Ben was working with Butcher and MM and Annie, but Christ, he’d accepted that was his life a long fucking time ago. They weren’t going to put him back in the box, they didn’t even really seem to hate him anymore, and Ben didn’t really hate them anymore. They made Her happy, and that was what fucking mattered.

So She did, in a way, have Her claws in him. Ben would fucking burn the world for Her—he’d do anything for her—so he might have spared Sage’s words a moment of thought if they weren’t fucking stupid. Of course Ben would do anything for Her. She’d do anything for Ben. It wasn’t like she’d just smiled at him once and he’d become a pathetic fucking lapdog.

She’d been something angry and wrapped in fire and smoke, all of it turning Her hollowed and scarred and broken inside, and Ben had been atomic and vigilant and wrapped in blood and wrath, serving him like a shield that kept every pussy who’d try to use him out.

And She’d seen the rotten, furious and bitter parts of him, and not walked away. And Ben had touched Her fire and not flinched. Ben wasn’t worried that he’d ever start to burn without Her there, because he was more fucking worried She’d try to burn without him.

Sage hadn’t put that in her fucking speech. Sage hadn’t mentioned that She was kind, and hilarious, and perfect. That She was self-sacrificial and intelligent, and didn’t manipulate people because She loved people. Sage didn’t mention that She hadn’t stolen Ryan so much as offered the kid some fucking care and affection, or that She hadn’t gotten Ben to fall in love with Her so much as existed near Ben, and been too fucking perfect to not fall in love with.

But Sage hadn’t mention most of the truth. Truth didn’t seem to be something Sage was at all fucking concerned with. Sage alleged that She demanded Homelander give her the V, and only grown more power-hungry after. Sage still didn’t fucking admit that She was stronger than Homelander—who hadn’t been seen since Boston—only saying that She was “dangerous, unstable, and if seen in public should not be approached.”

All of which meant Ben couldn’t fucking tell everyone he was marrying Her. They were wanted terrorists—fucking again—so it wouldn’t be the smartest move to tell everyone in this parking lot that Ben loved with Her and was going to make sure everyone knew that forever.

The team would hear about it, when they got home. They’d probably want to talk about the current, pressing disaster, but they’d have to also hear about how She and Ben were getting married. It would take two goddamn seconds, and if Ben didn’t tell someone by the end of the day, he’d explode.

He’d grumbled that to Her in the car, somewhere on the tree-lined highway, and She’d giggled.

“You know we’ll still be engaged after we deal with this? It’s not something that’s going to expire.”

“When we’re finished with this,” Ben had grunted, squeezing Her thigh under his hand. “We’re getting married. Immediately. And I don’t want to deal with Hughie’s fucking bitching about not getting to be a bridesmaid with Annie on the day.”

“Huh,” She’d still been grinning, and titled her head in mock thought. “I thought you were going to take Annie. She looks good in a suit, and I think her best man speech would be really funny. But if you’d prefer Butcher-“

“Butcher is not my best man.” He’d muttered, shooting Her a glare. “I’ll eat a fucking bomb first-“

“Well he has to go somewhere. My personal vote is flower girl, but I think he’d be a little bitch about it-“

Ben had snorted, and tried not to get too fucking lost in this. How She was talking about it like it was real, and they’d actually have to figure out what to do about Butcher at their wedding, because they would. Ben got to live in a world where he’d have to have William fucking Butcher at his wedding, but he’d be getting married to Her, so it was still goddamn worth it.

And when they parked at Edgar’s farm, he’d kept his hold on Her firm, waiting for her to meet his eyes before he spoke.

“I’m going to tell them.”

She sighed. “I mean, I’m not going to stop you, but I promise you’ll still be able to do that when there isn’t a possible government coup to prevent.“

“I don’t care.” He grunted. “We’re getting married, and they should fucking know that.”

“They will know that, Ben, but it’s not the most pressing issue right now-“

“Yes, it is.” Ben scowled, leaning down to hold Her gaze with his, trying to fucking show her how serious this was to him. “I love you, and I’m going to make it everyone’s problem, Sunshine. Right goddamn now.”

She flushed, mouth falling slightly open, and nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

Ben hummed in triumph, pressing a small, soft kiss to her lips. “Good. Now let’s-“

He had to cut himself off with a groan, because Her hands shot into his hair as she began to try and climb onto him, deepening the kiss. Ben reacted immediately—grabbing her waist and hauling her onto his lap—and let her grind onto him as he matching every roll of her hips with a grunt and thrust until they were dry humping like teenagers.

And he didn’t fucking care. Every breathless sound and gasp of his name was more fucking proof that they belonged to each other. This could be sloppy and uncoordinated and made of pure fucking need and want, because it felt fucking good, and every touch of Her skin—in any fucking form—got Ben high and fueled his love into a roar in his chest he never wanted to silence.

Then Ben heard something crunch on the grass outside, and pulled Her tight into his chest. Sat up with her caged safely in his arms, his body blocking fucking anything that might try to hurt them. Ben might not have a gun, but he had himself. He had this strange new feeling of fucking harmony is his body, where the nuke didn’t feel like a parasite, and the drums didn’t pound and invade his head, but it was just a hum and rush of power. White-hot, blinding fucking power that was hanging off his ribs and alight in his veins.

She’d been instant they should train more, back here in Maine. Where if Ben blew something up, it would just be a tree and not a fucking house or city. And he was ready to get started right fucking now, if whatever was coming dared to even look at Her wrong.

There was a rapping sound on the window, Ben’s fury and instinct of care for Her. Protect Her and love Her and keep her safe prepared itself to shatter the glass and grab the threat by the throat, then immediately faded into the background as he saw Kimiko and Frenchie staring down at them. Kimiko waved and Frenchie tried to hide his rocket launcher behind his back, and Ben sighed.

Ben, who-

Kimiko and Frenchie.

She pushed off Ben’s chest with a whack of his arm, and twisted in his hold to sign at Kimiko with an apologetic expression. Kimiko signed back, pausing halfway through a gesture with an open mouth, and began to sign in fast, frantic movements.

Ben heard Her heartbeat pick up as she and Kimono continued their silent conversation—Frenchie mostly just looking between them and Ben—and frowned.

What the fuck is going on.

She didn’t look away from Kimiko’s movements as She responded in Ben’s head. Frenchie set some silent alarms around the property, we set one off and-

No, Ben grunted Her name in the silence, and Her flush deepened. Why the fuck does Kimiko look like she’s just been hit by a damn car.

She might have seen the ring.

The smug, wide grin that crossed Ben’s face—born from how fucking beautiful she was, and how stupidly goddamn alight his whole body was—could’ve powered a fucking country. It was all energy, all fucking love and visceral goddamn joy. It must have been contagious or something as well, because it made Her whole body relax in Ben’s arms, even as her heart picked up and she made a small, airy, needy sound that only Ben got to hear.

He started to stand, keeping Her carefully against his body and pushing the door open slowly enough for Kimiko and Frenchie to step backward, Kimiko’s gestures coming to a halt and her attention turning to Ben.

“Where the fuck is everyone else.” He grunted, stepping out onto the dirt road. “We’ve got news.”

She rolled Her eyes, Kimiko gave Ben an almost dry look, and Frenchie was very fucking obviously trying not to look at Her hand.

“Ah, we are up there by quite a bit.” Frenchie pointed further down the road, frowning at the tree line. “It is a little bit of a walk-“

“We’ve been sitting for like, fourteen hours,” She squirmed out of Ben’s hold, but still pulled his arm over her shoulder, holding him against Her. “I could go for a walk.”

“Bien, and the car, Madame-“

“We’ve got bags in it,” She frowned at their stolen Honda, Her fingers tapping over Ben’s. “And they have some, uh, important stuff. So we probably shouldn’t just leave it-“

Kimiko’s hand shot up, and she made a quick gesture with a bright smile.

Frenchie shook his head, his voice tense and apologetic. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive-“

“It’s not like there’s anyone else on the road.” She gave Kimiko grin and shrug, reaching into Ben’s pocket to pull out the keys. “She can go five miles per hour for all I care. As long as she doesn’t drive into the river, she’ll be fine.”

Kimiko nodded eagerly, gave Frenchie a smug look, and moved into the driver’s seat.

“I’ve got my fucking clothing in there-“

She cut Ben off with a wrinkle of her nose. “So have I, Benjamin. It’ll be fine, and you can either be a baby about it here, or come with me and tell everyone that we’re engaged.”

Ben scowled down at Her, and all She did was smile up at him, making his mouth twitch and that radiant feeling grow nuclear in his chest. It was golden, and simple, and so raw and natural Ben couldn’t remember what it was like to have it not living in his body. It was like a star that flared a little brighter under Her attention and love, and it was older and more powerful than any pussy fucking star could dream of.

“Brat,” he muttered, and even his voice sounded like it was crafted from pure goddamn adoration. Like Ben had taken every furious and rough part of himself and turned it into something better. Fury that wasn’t born of hatred, but love and a resolve to keep that love. Of a jagged, stone-like feeling in his mouth and throat that had existed from the start, but had been eroded and found an exception. Ben was wrathful and immovable, but he couldn’t be mad at Her. She giggled, leaning into his side, and Ben moved for Her. He took careful, measured steps that She could always keep up with, and never once let her think she needed to be anywhere but here. With Ben, going to tell their friends that they were going to get fucking married.

Ben had been ready for it to be the first words out of his mouth. To push open the screen door to Edgar’s rickety old farmhouse and yell we’re married, you asshole pussies, so come and tell Her you’re happy for her—They weren’t married yet, but that was just fucking semantics—but he hadn’t accounted for Ryan. The kid was bouncing on the stone stairs, his whole face lighting up when She and Ben came into view, and running at a slightly alarming speed to greet them.

“You’re back!” Ryan slammed into Her first, wrapping her in a hug that had to be a little fucking painful, but only made her smile and squeeze Ryan tighter.

This was very fucking dangerous to Ben. Watching Her smile at Ryan—running her hands through the kid’s hair and hum a soft song that made the whole world seem like it was glowing—made it feel like a real option to drop off the V, tell Butcher to get his shit together, grow some fucking balls, and kill Homelander himself so She, Ben, and Ryan could catch the next flight back to Rome. They could fix up the house more, Ryan could get first choice of a bedroom, and Ben could use retirement to fill up the rest of the house with happy kids that She could sing to.

But Butcher had also been trying to kill Homelander for more than a decade, and hadn’t gotten goddamn close until She and Ben came along. Mostly Her, but Ben had gotten pretty fucking close himself. Butcher, really fucking annoyingly, needed them to help, and the pussy wouldn’t even thank them, but Ben didn’t need his thanks. He needed Butcher to do his goddamn job, so Ben’s whole life could be watching Her and Ryan be happy, and giving them more reasons to be happy.

The rest of the team was starting to walk down the old road to join them, with varying levels of welcoming expressions on their faces. Ryan moved to hug Ben—the radiant feeling in Ben’s body flashing and making his skin feel clean and his chest feel prideful—as She moved a few steps forward to meet Annie’s hug, Hughie waiting sheepishly off to the side until She gestured for him to join them.

“How was Rome? MM said the villa wasn’t a trap, but was it, you know,” Annie pulled out of the hug with a tight expression. “Livable?”

“It should have been. Stan kept all his properties in condition, even the one’s he never visited.”

Ben head shot up at the even, cool voice of Victoria Neuman, and felt his arms tense around Ryan as he leaned forward in an attempt to get just a little fucking closer to Her. Neuman wasn’t a real threat anymore, but he still didn’t fucking trust her, and didn’t want her anywhere goddamn near his family. Ben could certainly fucking feel the wired, taut feeling in Her body as she took Neuman in, and hear the stumble of Her heart in her chest.

“Um, hi.” She pried Herself away from Annie, taking a small step back. Closer to Ben. “What are you doing here?”

“They did an evac operation.” Neuman shrugged. “While you were off in Rome getting engaged, we had to deal with the Mallory fallout. You guys never think about the wider consequences of all your various murders, so now everything is compromised, and the safe house isn’t an exception.”

“Meant to tell you before you got back, but shit got-“ MM cut his tired words off, turning to frown at Neuman. “What did you just say?”

“You idiots don’t have the foresight to be in the business of meddling with politics-“

“Nah, Head-Popper.” Butcher snapped, eyes narrowed and back stiff. “I heard that shit too. The bloody fuckin hell did you say about America’s horniest twats.”

Neuman let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ve told you not to call me head-popper, Butcher, it’s not even true anymore-“

“Right then, Vicky. The fuck you mean gettin engaged-“

“I mean that they got engaged. Does engaged have a different meaning in Britain that I’m not aware of? I mean,” Neuman looked around the group with a surprised expression, attention landing on Her. “You’re wearing a ring. You don’t wear jewelry, and that looks expensive, but you’re wearing it anyway.”

It had been expensive. It had cost a small goddamn fortune, and while there was a flash of satisfied, bright pride that Neuman had noticed, Ben was also going to fucking kill her. Neuman was not meant to be the one that told everyone about this. It was either supposed to be Ben or Her, and because Ben knew his wife—more importantly, because he knew that the only place words seemed to ever fail Her was in relation to Ben—it was supposed to be him. Now everyone fucking knew, and they were gaping like idiots, and Neuman was going to fucking die.

“I, um,” She took another step back as she spoke, directly blocking Ben’s warpath and keeping Her attention on Neuman. “I don’t wear jewelry because it will probably melt. And actually,” She looked to Frenchie, and Ben saw the flash of the metal as she pulled the ring off. “Can you work your magic and make this fireproof? I really don’t want to lose it and we might have already had a,” She cleared her throat, and Ben smirked at her pretty flush. “Close call.”

Her voice had been soft, when Frenchie nodded Her heartbeat slowed, and it made something in Ben yield his wrath. He couldn’t kill Neuman. He probably hadn’t actually been going to kill Neuman—mauling or terrifying had still been on the table—but now She seemed mostly just happy, and that’s all that Ben fucking wanted.

Annie’s eyes moved to the ring—now in Frenchie’s hands—and she nodded slowly. “Wow. I mean congratulations, but also-“

“Wow.” Hughie echoed, offering Her a close-lipped, anxious smile. “Good job? Is that something I should say good job to? I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as he opened his mouth to say it was a damn good job. Not the time, Benjamin.

They should be saying shit. Why the fuck do they all just look like dumb fucking pussies who’ve never heard of marriage before-

They’re probably just surprised-

Why the hell would they be surprised. Ben glared around the group, speaking with low, gruff words before She had a chance to stop him. “Are any of you fuckers surprised.”

A resounding, annoyed no echoed through the woods and fields around them, and Ben shot the back of Her head a smug grin that She must have felt, because he got flipped off a second later.

Not a word, Benjamin, unless you want to lose my favorite part of you.

Ben chuckled, his grin spreading. I fucking knew it was your favorite-

I was talking about your tongue, Pretty Boy. She took another backwards step, stopping at Ben side and looking up at him with a fake-sweet smile. What were you talking about?

Brat.

Cunt. Her gaze turned back to their friends, and there was a small, pretty frown tugging on her lips. “You guys aren’t surprised at all?”

“Nah, Love,” Butcher shrugged, shooting Her a wink. “I was in the hotel room next to you twats in DC. I’m mostly just fuckin shocked you came back from your sex vacation.”

“It was not a sex vacation, Butcher-“

Frenchie nodded in agreement, cutting Her off with a bright tone. “Oui, Madame, you do not need a vacation for sex. Sex can happen anywhere-“

“Like in my fucking gun range.” MM muttered, and Her face flushed.

“How did you, um, how did you know about that?”

“I told him,” Hughie mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he gave Her an apologetic look. “I mean, not that you had sex, but that you were in the gun range and being kind of weird.”

“We were not being weird-“

MM scoffed. “I saw the security footage,” he said Her name with a pointed expression, She looked down at the floor, and Ben thought it looked a little like a father scolding his daughter for sneaking out of the house. “You motherfuckers were being incredibly weird. I almost threw up before you even started blowing him, and I had to clean my eyes with goddamn bleach after. And I only saw the first three seconds.”

“That’s,” She sighed, tapping her fingers against her palm. “Fair. Sorry.”

“Well, let’s fuckin hope you got it all fucked and out of your bloody systems,” Butcher’s grin becomes a little colder, more set and tight on his face. “Cause this place ain’t soundproof, and if you wake me up with your disgustin fuckin sex, someone’s gettin shot.”

“It’ll probably be you, Butcher.” She said, voice dry and bored. “I don’t think interrupting my husband while he’s balls deep in me is going to end well for anyone.”

Ben tried not to get lost in how fucking good everything felt. How the radiance in his body felt atomic, and might actually fucking be atomic. It felt in time with the nuke, like everything had a goddamn glow that Ben could reach out and grab and use to serve Her. Shield Her and fight for Her and bleed for Her. Protect his wife with, because at this point it was just a fucking formality that they weren’t married. If She was going to call Ben her fucking husband, he’d call Her his wife and never goddamn apologize for it. He’d fucking glow and burn and explode for Her, and then kiss her stupid and moaning after. Make her burst into flames below him and never flinch because the glow in him was for Her, and couldn’t be deterred by stupid shit like fire-

“Are you,” Ryan was looking between Her and Ben with wide eyes, and Ben almost missed his quiet, nervous tone. “Are you already married?”

“No, but husband is easier than fiancé.” She offered Ryan a smile, the kid’s whole expression relaxed, and Ben was going to fucking die. “Don’t worry, Ry,” Her voice dropped to a mock whisper, and suddenly nobody else was in the world but Her, Ben, and Ryan. “Ben isn’t going to let it be a secret wedding. Expect something very stupid and dramatic.”

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine-

No. She stuck her tongue out at him, Ben felt fucking high on how beautiful She was in front of him, and how bright she was inside him, and if Annie hadn’t started talking right then, he probably would’ve started fucking Her on the grass.

“Do you have plans?” Annie looked between them, her voice a little fucking weak, but still genuine. “For the wedding?“

“It’ll be after all this,” She gave a vague gesture to the air, Her beautiful face falling slightly. “Is done. I don’t want to get in the way of the mission-“

“Are we going to talk about the mission?” Neuman cut in with a dry, flat voice. “Or just keep standing here and talking about sex and weddings?”

MM let out a low, tired huff, and looked at Her with a weary expression. “Neuman’s right, we’ll have time for all the damn marriage talk after. Right now, we’ve got some heavy shit to go over. Let’s,” MM paused, looking around the sprawling farm grounds with a frown. “Where the fuck is your stuff.”

She sighed, looking down the road with a hesitant expression. “In the car, with Kimiko.”

“Kimiko ain’t able to drive, Love-“

“It’ll be fine,” She dismissed Butcher with a wave of Her hand, but Ben could still sense the anxiety around Her throat, constricting over his own lungs. “I can talk without props. Ryan,” Her gaze turned down, growing warm and soft as she reached out, holding Ryan’s face with a gentle hand. “Ben and I will find you after, but you can’t be in the meeting with us.”

Ryan’s eyes fell to the ground as he nodded, and She sighed.

“We trust you,” She whispered, offering Ryan a small smile. “But this isn’t something for you to worry about. If you have questions, I’ll answer them, but after. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan mumbled, glancing back to Ben—he gave a firm nod, that always seemed to help the kid’s anxiety—and sighed. “We can talk after.”

“After.” She said, and that was the voice She used when she made promises she intended on keeping. “You can ask whatever you want, and we have some stuff to give you-“

“Some stuff?” Ryan frowned, looking back to Ben with an uncertain gaze. “I don’t need anything-“

“They’re gifts.” Ben grunted, the radiance in him growing at how fucking adoring Her smile was, and how open and bright Ryan’s eyes were. “Go with Frenchie, kid. We’ll find you when we’re done.”

Frenchie nodded at Ben’s implied order, gesturing for Ryan to join him. As they both walked away—Frenchie rambling to a wide-eyed Ryan about fireproof alloy infusion—Ben wrapped his arm around Her waist and pulled her fully against him, kissing the top of her head as he glared around the group.

“Are we going to go the fuck inside, or just stand out here like idiots.”

Butcher snorted. “We been waitin on you, Soldier Boy, and your fucking emotional shit-“

“Inside.” MM cut Butcher off with a glare as Ben’s eyes narrowed, his hand clenching over Her stomach. “Let’s not murder each other before we even get to Homelander.”

Ben could agree with that. He would kill Butcher later—Ben was allowed to be fucking careful and gentle with his family, and Butcher should be real fucking grateful he was even allowed to witness their goddamn happiness, the bitter fucking pussy—but right now, killing Homelander was more important. Killing Homelander meant She and Ryan would be safe and She and Ben could get married without any fucking secrecy, so nothing was more important than killing Homelander.

Ben guided Her into Edgar’s rickety, piece of shit farmhouse, sitting tall at Her side around the well-worn, wooden table, and kept his hand on Her thigh as everyone settled down and the briefing began.

“The villa wasn’t lived in, and it didn’t look touched,” She started, tapping her fingers on the table as she spoke. “But it was clean. You said Edgar kept all his properties clean?”

Neuman nodded. “He might have had a crew come in just to make sure it didn’t fall to ruin.”

“That’s what we saw. A lot of things looked like they’d been dusted, but hadn’t been moved in, well, my lifetime. Most of our lifetimes.”

“Not Soldier Boy’s,” Butcher muttered, and She shot him a glare.

“Or yours, dickfuck.”

“I ain’t the one marryin you-“

“Watch it.” Ben hissed, and the radiant feeling becoming hot. Vigilant and loud, waiting for a reason to launch out of Ben with a boom and spread over the world.

MM sighed, running his hand over his face. “Can you motherfuckers try to keep it civil and not antagonize each other?”

She hummed in agreement, continuing before Butcher had a chance to make another jab or Ben could split Butcher’s head open on the table. “Butcher, I’m a big girl. I’m well aware of the age thing, and it’s probably the least fucked up thing about our relationship. Also, I think it’s hot, so you can shove it up your ass.”

Ben smirked, sitting up a little straighter, and squeezed his hand against her. I fucking knew it-

I already admitted that, Pretty Boy. And I’m mostly trying to shut Butcher up, so don’t get too smug.

Ben didn’t care what She’d been trying to do, because not only was everyone’s reaction more than he could’ve hoped for—red faces, surprised coughs, and picked up heart rates—but her words set off sparks in his gut and made something bloom around his heart. It was his usual, completely fucking unbreakable and wrathfully attentive love for Her, but also a raw and strange glow that was getting harder and harder to ignore. It was hidden under the radiance, and Ben didn’t want to glow—he wasn’t a pathetic fucking pussy who did things like glowing—but it was almost painful to pretend he couldn’t feel it at this point. That it wasn’t created and fed by how She was just as biting and avenging when someone stood against Ben as he was for Her, and She was fucking marrying him, and She adored him, and nothing could take that away from him. No one would ever be able to call Ben worthless again, because She’d kill them. Just like he’d kill people who called Her weak.

She looked like she was about to start talking again, but the door banged open and everyone started in their seats, guns clicking and raising, bodies bracing to fight whoever the fuck had just interrupted their meeting-

“You assholes are paranoid as shit, huh.” A-Train muttered, walking over to the table with a fearful Ashely a few paces behind him. “And thanks for telling us we were having a meeting.”

Annie scoffed at A-Train’s obvious, dripping contempt, crossing her arms as he and Ashley sat down. “We didn’t know where you were, and this is time sensitive. We didn’t have time to look.”

A-Train rolled his eyes, and Hughie cleared his throat with a shaky cough.

“Where, uh,” he swallowed, words sounding forced out of his mouth. “Where were you guys?”

“On a walk.”

Hughie blinked at A-Train’s flat answer. “Oh. Why?”

“None of your business, Hughie-“

“Can we please focus.” Neuman leaned back in her chair with a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands in the air. “We can all do group therapy after Homelander is dead.”

A-Train didn’t stop glaring at Hughie, but nobody pushed anything, so She took the cue to keep talking.

“Right, um,” She shook Her head, the tapping on the table picking up tempo. “The villa was in good shape, and we found Dr. Vought’s old study. Like I told MM, there was a large stash of compound V, which we brought about twenty vials of back-“

Hughie frowned. “How did you get V through security-“

“We didn’t go through security.” She said, looking around the table with a vaguely bored expression. “I mean, there was no world where we’d get through legally, V or no V. We’re walking weapons who don’t have passports. Sneaking onto a plane isn’t even in the top ten crimes we’ve committed, I think it will be fine.”

“But you’ve got it?” Annie asked, leaning forward on the table. “You’ve got the V here?”

“It’s in our bags.”

“Shit.” Annie turned to MM. “Has Frenchie told you when the drill will be ready?”

“What drill-“

“Frenchie’s been working on a needle drill or some shit,” MM told Her, and she nodded slowly. “Get the V into Homelander in one shot. He said a week, but I don’t think we’ve got a whole fucking week-“

“We don’t.” She muttered, and there was a faraway, set on Her face Ben recognized to be an idea. The final moment of Her clever fucking brain turning and clicking things into a pattern Ben never understood, but—usually—fucking worked in their favor. “If Homelander really is being tapped by Singer for the VP spot, from congressional pressure or not, we can’t wait for him to even get a confirmation hearing. But,” She swallowed, and whatever fucking insane thing she was planning settled in Her head, and all Ben could do was wait for Her to say it. “We need that drill. All we have to do is delay Homelander, and buy Frenchie enough time to get it right.”

Ben knew where this was going. Her breathing was falling into a mechanical rhythm, and the tapping of her fingers had started to leave marks on the table as curling smoke rose from her hands, Ben knew where the fuck this was headed.

You don’t fucking have to do that-

I do, my love. She gave him a small, sad smile, dropping Her searing hand over Ben’s. It didn’t fucking hurt at all—even when it might have before—so when She realized what she’d done and tried to pull away, Ben caught Her wrist with a scowl. Ben-

Doesn’t hurt. He searched Her beautiful, impossibly perfect and exhausted face for whatever words he could use to talk Her out of this, and couldn’t find a single goddamn one. Sunshine-

I’ll be okay. And it’s long overdue. She looked back to their slightly watching team, all wearing similar expression of blank confusion. “I need to come out of hiding. For good.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at Her, and before they had a chance to erupt with stupid fucking opinions, She continued.

“I can do it here. We can find a blank, unidentifiable wall to film in front of, and I’ll say all of it. What Annie said, a little more, and what’s happened since. It will be a clear, obvious accusation of assault, abuse, and torture, and it will at least slow everything down.” She took a long, deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper only Ben could hear. “It has to slow things down.”

MM was frowning, but he seemed mostly concerned. “It’s not a guarantee,” he muttered Her name, scanning over Her face with a firm, slow gaze. “And there will be a massive fallout. Fuck, Annie had a fallout, and that wasn’t a formal story. And Sage literarily just said her shit, people might call bullshit just on that-“

“People were always going to call bullshit.” Everything in Her—in Ben—felt exhausted and sick. Twisting and rotting in Ben’s chest as Her words became slightly choked and he had to just wait. He couldn’t kick everyone out to hold Her and remind Her she was safe, he had to fucking wait. “There was never a time or place I could say my piece, and have a perfect success rate. If there was, none of this would be a problem to begin with. And I can acknowledge Sage. I can admit that I am related to Muller, but also point out that he kicked me out and we hadn’t spoken for thirteen years. I can talk about everything. I don’t have careful moves to make like Sage does, I don’t have anyone I need to lie about or steer public attention away from. But,” She paused, a flash of panic shooting through Ben’s veins and up his spine as Her heartbeat sped up. “I want to get my siblings out. If I’m saying everything, standing in direct opposition of Vought and Singer, they’ll need to hide. Fuck, they probably should’ve already been hidden-“

“We can take care of that.” MM cut off Her spiraling, and Ben shot him a curt, appreciative nod, pulling Her a little close against him and rubbing patterns on her leg as MM continued. “Butcher and I got some contacts we trust with that shit, we can hide them. And Frenchie-“

“Oui?” Frenchie pushed open the door like he’d been fucking summoned, Kimiko right behind him. “What about moi are we discussing?”

“Frenchie,” She said carefully, eyes narrowed. “Where’s Ryan-“

“With the little Neuman.” Frenchie reassured Her, Kimiko nodding behind him with a kind smile. “They get on quite well, do not worry. What news have we missed?”

Butcher said to Her name, his smirk more tense than cruel. “Found a way to buy you time, Mate. Got the V, just need that fuckin drill.”

Frenchie gave Her a grateful nod before turning back to MM. “Is that all?”

“We’re gonna need to get her family out first,” MM grunted, and Frenchie seemed to understand in an immediate fucking second.

“Ah, operation Harrison Ford. Easy as a cakewalk, Madame,” Frenchie said Her name with a grin, and she blinked.

“We have an operation Harrison Ford?” Hughie looked around the table with an almost indignant expression. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we had an operation Harrison Ford?”

“You ain’t ever been a fugitive, Mate. Didn’t need it.”

Hughie gaped at Butcher. “I have definitely been a fugitive! Like, five fucking times! I’m a fugitive right now!“

“It’s for when we haven’t got anyone but each other.” MM explained, his tone slightly apologetic. “Last time we got people into hiding before we were wanted. Operation Harrison Ford is for when there’s no CIA to fall back on.”

Hughie looked almost crestfallen—Annie giving him a pat on the shoulder that was severely fucking undercut by her amused expression—and She cleared Her throat, pushing on.

“Do I need to do anything for operation Harrison Ford?”

MM nodded. “Get them all together and pass them on to me. We want this done sooner rather than later, though, so if you can round them all up-“

“They’ll be at my mom’s.” She muttered. “It’s just past the 4th, they always stay with her in July. We can go tonight-“

“Tomorrow.” Ben snapped, making his words stern and final, because She needed fucking rest. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

She sighed. Ben-

We promised Ryan, he grunted Her name between their heads, and Her tight expression faltered. It’s less than 24 fucking hours, we’ll be fine.

She nodded slowly—for once just letting Ben be right—and returned Her attention to MM. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon. Anything else we need to deal with?”

MM frowned, his voice slow. “Maybe. You told me there might be the V formula there as well, you manage to confirm it?”

“No,” A brief glint of red appeared and dried on Her lips as she chewed them with her words. “But it would explain what Sage is after. If all she knows is the Cornucopia as an idea, she wouldn’t think it has multiple things. She’s after the formula.”

“Wouldn’t Sage know the formula?” Hughie asked, sounding doubtful his own question. “Her whole thing is smart, she could probably replicate it-“

Frenchie shook his head. “It is not that simple, Petite Hughie. Compound V is remarkably complex. There is a reason it took Vought so long, with so much money and testing, to perfect. My attempt was weak itself, and I am still not sure what I did wrong.”

“Well, no offense Mate, but you ain’t Sage-“

“Non, I am not.” Frenchie shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Butcher’s words. “But Sage is lacking the unethical testing Vought was granted by the Holocaust. And his first batch was, ah, famously unstable.” He shot Her and Ben apologetic expressions, words slowing. “It is not outside the realm of possibility that even Sage can be stumped. She may have hit a wall, or Vought may have done something odd enough to drive her cuckoo-“

“Sage doesn’t go cuckoo.” A-Train muttered. “She’s a vindictive fucking robot-“

“I’ve confused her.” Everyone’s attention turned to Her, and Ben’s could feel the sick feeling returning as she spoke. “She doesn’t follow things that aren’t in logical line. She doesn’t understand, um, love all that well, because it’s irrational.”

Butcher scoffed. “That’s bloody sad for the ice bitch, what’s that got to do with the fuckin V.“

“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “My point is more if there are things Sage doesn’t understand, things she can’t predict, and it’s usually things related to emotions. So,” She paused, frowning into the air, and turned to Ashley. “Who made the V at Vought? I’d imagine they had an NDA, but Sage and Homelander would be able to make them talk-“

“Nobody knew the whole recipe.” Ashely’s voice was unsteady, watching Her like the wrong word might end in blood. “When I got the CEO job they explained that it was manufactured in random patterns and parts, specifically so nobody could duplicate it. I think they even had fake factories and steps, just to throw people off.”

She nodded, fingers sitting suddenly as she turned to Frenchie. “I need the suppressant back. Soon.”

“Of course Madame, but I cannot recommend you, ah,” Frenchie glanced at Ben’s violent glare. “Continue with it-“

“It’s still not for me.” She squeezed Ben’s hand on Her leg in silent reassurance, and he felt his grip on her loosen. “Trust me. Please.”

Those words were mostly for Ben. They were Her asking him not to push back on her with this, pair with an implicit promise that she wouldn’t hurt herself like that again. So Ben slightly pressed his knee against Hers, holding Frenchie’s anxious expression, and gave a curt nod.

Frenchie nodded slowly, looking back to Her. “Oui. I will put it in the room.”

“The room? What room-“

“We’re stuck here indefinitely, Love.” Butcher drawled. “Lucky us, Edgar was a rich prick with a huge fuckin house, but we still gotta fit thirteen cunts in five bedrooms. You twats are bunkin with Ryan and I.”

Ben scowled. “Sleep on the fucking couch, you cockhead-“

“Nah, Gov. But if I wake up to you two humpin near my virgin ears-“

“We’re not going to hump in a shared space. With a child in the room.” She hissed at Butcher, and he shrugged.

“Caught you fuckin the bathroom before, shared bedroom ain’t a stretch-“

“Yes, it fucking is-“

“Hey!” MM hit the table, and her mouth closed with one last glower at Butcher. “Time limit, motherfuckers. You,” MM grunted Her name, glaring between her and Ben. “And your asshole get the day, then we’re driving to go get your family tomorrow morning. Frenchie, work on the drill, and the rest of you.” MM’s jaw tensed, his face somehow growing more fucking grim. “Get ready to fight. Once we’ve got it all out in the open, Homelander’s not going to take it down easy. And if Sage is after the formula, we don’t know why, and we certainly don’t have a goddamn clue how she’ll retaliate. So look alive, we’re going to have some work to do.”

They did. In the fucking morning—and not a moment sooner—She and Ben would have a lot of work to do. But until then they could spend the night however they fucking wanted.

“If we do want to fuck,” Ben lowered down to whisper in Her ear, well aware he could just use their brain connection, but enjoying the slight shiver of her spine and flutter of her heart too much to bother. “I’m sure we could find a spot in all these damn trees to do it.”

“Forests aren’t for sex.” She muttered, giving him a flat glare, and he winked right back.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, beautiful. I’d fuck you in a parking lot, or a shitfuck subway, or in the middle of a goddamn earthquake.”

She hummed, giving it fake thought with a tilt of her head. “I feel like the earthquake would actually help. With the tremors.”

Ben snorted. “How about a dumpster.”

“That’s disgusting, Benjamin.”

“And that’s my damn point.” He kissed the top of Her head, smirking against her hair. “I love you enough to fuck you in a dumpster.”

“Romantic.” She guided them up the stairs, looking up and down the halls with a frown. “As much as I’d love to have forest sex, we do need to find Ryan-“

Ben nodded—he’d find a place for them to fuck later, when everyone else was distracted and Butcher couldn’t be a massive fucking ass about Ben having sex with his goddamn wife—and latched onto the distant sounds of everyone’s moving about the house. It didn’t take long to find Ryan’s—another floor up and a little down the hall—and when Ben started to walk, She let him guide their path without a single step of hesitation. Just watching Ben with wide-eyes and clinging to his arm around Her shoulders, every feature on her perfect face relaxed and fucking adoring. Ben had a feeling they could be walking to goddamn hell and not just a bedroom, and she’d still let him lead the way.

And he had to keep fucking earning that. It wasn’t a task or trial that would ever be done, because Ben had created so many fucking messes that he could throw himself at her feet to be used as weapon and he still wouldn’t have fully earned Her. Worse, She wouldn’t accept that offer. She’d frown at him and ask what the fuck he was doing. Tell him that She didn’t want him to be a weapon, just to be hers.

He already was. There was nothing fucking better than it, than being hers. All She asked of Ben was to stay and listen, and those were the easiest things to do in the goddamn universe. All She wanted from his wasn’t glory or blood, but love and effort. Two things that should have been horrible and trying to give, but weren’t. It wasn’t work, to love Her—it was fucking natural and impossible to remember what anything had been before he’d loved her—and all his effort was poured into figuring out a way to fucking deserve this. Deserve the most beautiful, perfect woman being alive with him, choosing to be near him, choosing to love him, choosing to fucking marry him.

It could come in blood. There would be times where it needed to be blood on Ben’s hands and skin under his nails, brutally clawing and beating and bruising to keep Her safe. But it would more likely be things like this. Like hugging Ryan when the kid jumped up to great them—it was also easy to hug Ryan, it made Ben’s whole goddamn body feel prideful and his heart feel right in his chest—and meeting Her soft, happy gaze with a grin of his own. Listening to Her and Ryan talk about all the history shit in Rome as he sorted through their bags—trying to hide all Her soon to be destroyed lingerie from Ryan, and the semi all his ideas were giving him from both of them—and pulled out their gifts. Stuffed fucking animals, so simple and goddamn stupid, and entirely goddamn worth it from the surprised look of pure goddamn happiest on Ryan’s face as She passed him the lobster and lion. Happiness that somehow grew stronger when She made Ben show him the other lion and Her tiger. It leaked into the air of the room like helium, making everything higher and nothing in danger of coming down.

“Do you,” Ryan looked between them with a nervous expression, his words quiet and uncertain. “Do you think I could come visit you? When you go?”

She froze—her face sad and gentle and soft, full of something that looked like grief and felt like a warm ache in Ben’s body—and Ben answered for Her.

“We’re not going, kid. And if we do, you’re coming with us.”

Ryan’s mouth parted, and he still looked so goddamn nervous. As if Ben would ever fucking lie to him. “I am?”

“If you want.” She offered Ryan a sweet, loving smile, and Ben was in fucking danger again. “And if not, we’ll stay here.”

“With,” Ryan swallowed. “With me?”

“We’re not sticking around for fucking Butcher-“

She threw a pillow at Ben’s head, her attention held on Ryan. “Of course with you. We’re not leaving you.”

“Would I, um, why?” Ryan looked almost confused, like this was a trick. Like She and Ben were measuring his reaction, and this was some sort of fucking test. “You don’t have to, if you want to go to Rome, just for me-“

“We don’t have to. But we want to.”

“You want to.” Ryan repeated Her words slowly, still looking fucking lost and nervous. “That’s it?”

She looked over at Ben, and he nodded. He wasn’t even really fucking certain what he was agreeing with—he was too fucking lost in how beautiful She was and how good this was, how everything in him felt peaceful and content and nothing wanted to explode out of his chest—but She was easy around his head and always fucking right, so Ben trusted her to say what he didn’t have words for. That he wouldn’t say properly, say in a way that really helped Ryan. Ben didn’t know how to explain that this radiance in his body was about not feeling like he had to go. That it wanted—Ben wanted—to stay right here, and keep watching the two people who were goddamn worth anything be happy. Wanted to keep them happy. Wanted to let their happiness crawl into him and keep making him a weak fucking pussy who had a stuffed lion because his wife insisted he should get it for their son.

So when She started talking again, Ben knew she’d understand all that shit, and get Ryan to understand it as well.

“That’s it.” She echoed without any caution or reservations in her voice. “You’re a cool kid, Ry. I like you and so does Ben.” She dropped her voice to a mock whisper, leaning forward to Ryan like her words were a secret. “The lobster was his idea, but don’t tell him I told you.” She gave Ben a sharp, bright and sweet expression, and he rolled his eyes as her voice raised. “We’re staying with you, because we want to, and we like being around you. Simple as that.”

“Around me?” Ryan stared down at the floor even as he leaned a little further forward. Closer to Her. “But I mess up-“

“We all fucking mess up, kid.” Ben grunted. “There’s not a single damn person in this house that hasn’t fucked something up. You never tried to hurt people, Homelander was just a weak fucking pussy who didn’t know how to teach you shit.”

“But I messed up in Boston too-“

“Boston as well,” She gave Ryan a gentle smile with the correction, and somehow it made him look more comfortable. Ben didn’t get that, but it did. “And none of us were perfect that day. You wanted to help, and you couldn’t have been expected to know Homelander would follow you. At least you didn’t take a dangerous, volatile drug, unlike certain people.”

Ben got a pointed glare with no real anger behind it, and rolled his eyes. This wasn’t a real argument, it was meant to distract Ryan, and Ben could play along easily.

“Don’t act like I didn’t save your fucking ass with that, Sunshine. And now I’m fireproof, I should be getting twice the goddamn thanks.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “Why is that, Pretty Boy?”

Ben opened his mouth to snap because now when I fuck you, I can get you to burst into flames and nobody gets hurt but the pussy fucking mattress, realized he couldn’t say that in front of Ryan, and scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re fireproof?” Ryan looked at Ben with fucking awe, and Ben felt his body grow a little easier to exisit in. “Is that your new power?”

Ben looked to Her for explanation, and she wrinkled Her nose at him.

Really, Ben-

You’re the brains, he grinned, saying Her name between their heads. Use them.

Cunt. She turned to Ryan, her expression immediately becoming sweet and gentle as she met his curious gaze. “It seems to be one of them. Or at least a higher resistance to the heat and flame. We mostly think it’s the nuke, in here,” She tapped Ben’s chest. “Fusing fully into his body.”

Ryan nodded slowly, looking over to Ben. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Ben grunted. “Taking the V felt like shit, but I lived. Now it just feels normal.”

He’d probably have to give more detailed answers to MM and Annie later, for stupid fucking team purposes, but that was enough for Ryan, whose expression became eager.

“Are we going to train together? Can I help you with practicing stuff? If you want help, obviously, I just think I could throw targets, and be a target-“

“I’m not making you a fucking target, Ryan.” Ben made his voice stern, because this was the same fucking nuke that wiped out V and Ryan shouldn’t be anywhere goddamn near it. “But we’ll keep training.”

Any crestfallen defeat at the first half of Ben’s words were wiped off Ryan’s face by the second half, and the kids face lit up again. “Really? Even after my dad is gone?”

“As long as you fucking need and want it. Like she said, kid, we’re sticking around.”

Ryan got it. A small, nervous smile crossed his face, the conversation moved on, and Ben knew that—even if they were liars, which they weren’t—they’d keep this promise. Ryan would always have Her and Ben, and that wasn’t any fucking labor either. None of the things Ben had to do for Her or Ryan ever felt like labor. Doing things for them didn’t require thought or work, because it was simple and fucking right. Acts of retribution that were so small and fucking worthless alone, but build up and up and up until Ben was closer to their easy warmth. Never being afraid they’d toss him out or sneer at his offerings, because they weren’t like that. That was what the callous, greedy people Ben had surrounded himself with had done. Had never let it be enough, had made it obvious that acts of care were for the weak, and worth was won from spat words and traded blows.

But this worth—good worth, that was glowing and alight and content along Ben’s ribcage—was born from these small acts of service. From going to the strange, odd dinner with the team and sitting with his hand on Her thigh and his food offered silently to Ryan when they didn’t have enough for seconds. From playing the stupid fucking card game Hughie suggesting, and helping Her cheat because he’d help Her do anything. Taking Her and Ryan’s dishes to the sink and trying not to lose his fucking mind when She followed him without question, just to stay at his side.

Moving to the living room with most everyone else—Ashley and A-Train leaving to go do whatever the fuck they did, and Neuman muttering about getting a headache, but telling Zoe to just be in bed before midnight—and sitting in watchful, easy silence as She and Kimiko had a conversation made of giggles and smiles, and She moved herself into Ben’s lap, holding his arm over her stomach and sighing happily when he kissed Her neck. Listening to Ryan and Zoe tell them about how Neuman had lined up their curriculums, and now Ryan could learn to play the piano.

“I played the piano,” Ben grunted, and was met with shocked gapes he did not fucking appreciate.

“You did?” She leaned back on his chest, looking up at Ben with a sharp amusement dancing in Her pretty eyes . “Did you also play the trumpet?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up-“

“Make me-“

Ben’s own grin grew to something that felt a little feral, and Butcher scowled.

“Don’t you fuckin dare make her, or you horny dumbasses are sleepin outside.”

She stuck Her tongue out, wiggling further into Ben’s hold and not fucking helping him at all. “You’re just bitter you can’t play the piano, Butcher. You can’t even keep a beat.”

“Fuck off, Love, you ain’t better than me-“

“On this I am,” She shrugged, a smug smile on Her face that made Ben’s own body start to flood with pride. “I can’t play the piano, but I can sing.”

“Singin from the V don’t count-“

“I could sing before the V, asshole.”

“You can sing?” Ryan’s face was covered in wonder, and Ben understood that. His face whenever he looked at her likely looked wide and a fucking dumbstruck as well, but also probably a lot less innocent.

She nodded with a soft, slightly tense hum. “Yeah. I don’t a lot, because things will, um, happen. If I do.”

Ben didn’t have to look around at the team to know that they were either flushed or grimacing at the memory of the illusion of Ben, dancing on the stage with Her in a way that friends or coworkers certainly weren’t supposed to. Ben was fond of that memory, because it was the first time he’d been fucking certain that if he tore through the crowd, picked Her up, and slammed his mouth to Her’s in a brutal and demanding kiss, She’d match every single touch and moan until they were fucking on the floor of that stupid club. He could also get that their friends might not have the same almost liberating light painted across their thoughts of it, just because nobody ever seemed to appreciate that She was a lot more of a horny fucking brat than they gave her credit for. Any jabs at Ben’s constant innuendos and hard-ons when She would so much as smiled at him would never really land the way anyone wanted them to, because She was worse.

Even right fucking now, as the conversation continued, She was squirming in Ben’s lap. Her heartbeat had picked up as he kissed a gentle, careful pattern over her jaw and kneaded at the skin of Her thigh, and Ben got a weak slap on his knee as Ryan pressed on with his questions.

“Like what?”

“Illusions, essentially.” She shrugged. “As far as I’ve understood it, I can let off a pheromone that warps everyone’s senses within its radius. It happens when I sing, and, um,” She flushed, fingers starting to tap on Ben’s forearm. “Get excited.”

Fortunately for fucking everyone, Ryan didn’t press about what excited meant. He just swallowed, watching Her with a hesitant, hopeful expression. “Could you sing for us? If you, um, if you want-“

“I could.” She looked around the room, her heart picking up to a nervous, stumbling pattern. “If that’s okay with everyone-“

“Long as nothing happens like last time,” MM mutters. “I don’t give a shit.”

There was a low chorus of agreements, and she cleared Her throat, leaning further into Ben as she began.

It was a slow, sweet song that filled the room with golden light and an overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla and coffee. Her voice was just as beautiful as every other time She’d let Ben hear it—if anything it only grew stronger, steadier and more certain as she eased into the music—and Ben didn’t ever want to fucking leave this place. Didn’t want to stop feeling the perfect warmth she was creating around and inside him, or move from this place where the world was made of illusions, but She was still fucking real. Where Ben could hear Her voice echo and fill the room—sounding like everything good he’d ever known—and feel Her heart fall into a controlled but natural pattern with every breath and note. Where he could bury his face in Her hair and still manage to smell flowers and smoke and apples.

They had to move eventually. When the song finished, Ben could grin at Her and bask in how her own, cautious smile grew full and toothy as everyone offered her the praise and admiration she goddamn deserved. But then he had to carry Her to bed—She let him, resting her head on his shoulder and falling asleep before they’d reached the top of the goddamn stairs—and spend a restless night carefully covering her body like a shield. Keep Her safe from the creaking of the summer breeze and buzz of the night, kissing her brow when she rolled to face him and carefully wrapping his arms around her to hold Her in the dark. Ben knew every threat to Her was nothing but eyes blinking open and lost sleep before a long day, but it still felt right to be here. To keep Her peaceful, relaxed and content body from Butcher’s view, even if the pussy didn’t look at them as he shuffled into the room. To know that when She woke up, the first thing She’d know was that Ben was here, with Her.

At some point the sound of Her heart must have lulled Ben into rest, because when he dragged his eyes open after what felt like only a second there was cool, morning light past the blinds and climbing into the room, and She was watching him with an open, adoring expression.

Hi, Sunshine.

A small smile crept over Her face, and Her voice in Ben’s head was so full of love it was going to goddamn knock him out. Hi, Benjamin, my love.

He leaned down to kiss to space between Her eyes, letting his lips linger against her skin. What time is it.

Early.

What time do we have to go.

I don’t know. She chewed on Her lips, and Ben watched to run his tongue over them to soothe and slow her movements. MM didn’t actually tell us, he just said ‘in the morning’.

What the fuck are we supposed to do, then.

Can you hear him? Is he awake?

Ben paused, moving his attention to the sounds of the house. Slow heartbeats and low breathes, soft shifting sounds as people tossed and turned, and-

Someone’s awake, he looked back to her, raising his brows. Don’t know who.

She sighed, giving Ben almost a pout. We should probably get up, then.

Ben grunted an agreement, and neither of them moved. It was like that for a long while, Her and Ben the only two people in the universe, sitting in each other and not really caring to do much else. Only when Ben heard a second heartbeat pick up to a waking pace, closely followed by a second pair of footsteps beginning to move around the house, did he kiss Her on her brow and guide her out bed. They grabbed their clothing and moved to the bathroom, getting ready in silence and slow, deliberate movement so as to not wake Ryan or Butcher.

When they were dressed and—mostly—awake, Ben reached out his hand and She took it with a smile. Kept it in hers down the stairs and into the paint-peeling, gas oven kitchen, smiling when Ben kissed Her knuckles before rising up to kiss his cheek.

MM re-entered the kitchen, seemed to immediately understand their silent ritual, and gave them both short nods. There were four thermoses on the counter that MM filled with coffee—She frowned at them, then at Ben, and all he could do was shrug—and Ben grabbed two for them each, following Her out to the driveway.

The likely owner of the fourth thermos was waiting for them next to Butcher’s car, greeting Her with a bright smile and wave, and Ben with a nod that didn’t look like an effort.

She signed to Kimiko with a smile of her own, translating their conversation into Ben’s head.

Kimiko’s coming for operation Harrison Ford, as MM’s muscle. Once we get my siblings on board you and I will have to come back here to get the ball rolling against Sage, and she and MM will go through with the operation.

Got it. Ben frowned. What the fuck is the operation.

She gestured to Kimiko, who gestured back with what seemed to be careful, thought-out movements, and She nodded.

She says it’s mostly just hiding them in a really complex way. They’re going to take one of my families cars, swap it halfway, take the bus, change directions in a stolen car, and get them to some people MM trusts. She sighed, leaning Her head onto Ben’s arm. Overall, just get them somewhere safe so I can do my speech.

Ben grunted, looping his arm around Her waist to keep her steady. I’m driving back.

The fuck you are-

I’m driving. Ben smirked down at Her, tracing pattens on her hips. Or I’m not talking to you the whole ride so you can goddamn focus and not get us into a fucking crash.

She snorted. That’s a worse threat than withholding sex, you talk more than I do.

That’s fucking bullshit-

To me. She corrected herself with smile, leaning back to bump her nose against his jaw. You always talk to me. You wouldn’t last two hours without talking to me, or trying to get me to talk to you.

You willing to bet on that, Sunshine?

Feels like a pretty boring bet-

Whoever talks first gets head from the loser.

She gave him a flat look. Where. Because I am not fucking in the house-

Winner gets to choose where. He winked, kissing the corner of Her mouth. Get ready to give a blowjob in the forest, beautiful, I’m going to knock this shit out of the fucking park.

Ben knew that would do it. Her eyes narrowed, determination flashed—wild and sharp—over her pretty face, and she was on board.

Rules. She scanned over Ben’s face with an almost frightening focus, fingers tapping on his arm. Mission stuff doesn’t count. If we’re in a group we can talk, but it has to be relevant. No inside jokes or innuendos, and no nicknames. Nothing we wouldn’t say to each other as co-workers.

He nodded, dropping his mouth to Her neck. Touching?

She shrugged, even as her hand moved to grip at his bicep and Her voice in his head became breath. Long as you don’t talk about it.

What about this. Ben pressed his brow to the side of Her head, and she smirked at him, her voice becoming mock innocence.

What about what? Is there a name for what you’re referring to, Benjamin?

He rolled his eyes. Shut the fuck up-

That’s the idea.

Brat.

Cunt. Say it.

Ben scowled, and grumbled the word between their heads, doing his best to make it sound painful. Ben’o’phone.

She hummed, eyes dancing with a joy Ben could feel behind his eyes and along his spine. No talking on the Ben’o’phone.

Any other shit?

Nope. You’ve got a deal, Pretty Boy. She twisted out of his hold, extending her hand for Ben to shake. Get ready to never speak to me again.

He laughed, because there wasn’t a goddamn chance he’d let that happen. And Ben knew his wife. He knew that as stubborn as he was himself, She was worse, and was more than capable be a spiteful pain in his ass. If they got back to the farm from Boston and She still hadn’t said a word, Ben knew he’d end it. There were damn well worse fates than eating out a perfect woman who he loved, and one of them was never hearing Her voice again.

But this made the four hours stuck in the car with MM and Kimiko a fuck ton more interesting. MM had given the mission orders before they took off—this is a delicate motherfucking operation, so no murder, don’t be idiots, and listen when I tell you shit—and Ben had felt Her start to tug away from him, making a play to grab shotgun and keep herself physically detached from Ben.

Physical shit was Ben’s one fucking advantage. She could outwit and outlast Ben all she damn pleased, but She’d crumble if he touched her right. Turned Her into a soft, hazy-eyed mess in his arms, played with Her perfect fucking body until she caved and started begging him to just plain fuck Her.

So he’d kept Her body firm in his hold, and chuckled when she shoved his chest and stomped to the backseat as Kimiko dropped into shotgun. When Ben followed Her—scooting along the bench until their bodies were pressed together—she plain refused to look at him, and he started to run his hand up and down Her thigh. Rubbing Her skin until her breathing became ragged, but neither of them caved.

Most of the car ride was like that. Ben teasing Her in silence, Her pretending he simply didn’t fucking exist, and both of them pretending they weren’t constant goddamn seconds from caving. Ben knew for a fact that every smile he caught on Her lips and every flutter of her heart sent him barreling closer to asking what the fuck she and Kimiko were talking about and why she’d pointed at him. He wanted to know what the hell She was planning on telling her siblings, what She was planning on telling the fucking world, to drawl to Her about all the ways he wanted to fuck her with his new powers, because he’d been brainstorming, and he has some pretty goddamn amazing ideas.

And he was sure she’d want to hear them. Given that he could almost fucking feel Her own will bending and dissolving—warm in his gut and soft in his head as he teased and squeezed Her skin, moved his hand to just rest at the apex of her thighs—and her heart had reached a rhythm he usually heard during sex, Ben would call it a safe fucking bet that she was just as close to giving in as he was.

But neither of them did. And when MM cleared his throat, they’d made it three whole hours without saying a word.

MM grunted Her name, and she looked over to him with a frown.

“Yeah?’

“I still had Violet’s number from March, and I gave her a call last night.” MM glanced up to Her in the rearview mirror. “Gave her a quick brief, she sounded a little pissed you faked dead again, but understood. She’s bringing one of your brothers, but says the other one and your sister aren’t in Boston with your mom.”

“Where are we meeting them?”

“Coffee shop. Had croissants, and God knows I could use something like that right now.”

“Did she say which brother she’s bringing?”

“Got a name, don’t remember-“

“Henry or Sterling.”

MM paused. “Sterling.”

“Okay.” She sighed, slumping down into Her seat, into Ben. “What did you tell her, exactly?”

“We got you back around late May. Had you since, but couldn’t let anyone outside of our immediate team and contacts know for security. You’ve made a complete physical recovery, and are mentally stable enough for fieldwork. We’ve seen Sage’s propaganda, none of it is true, and we’re making a play against her and Homelander soon, so we’re putting them in hiding until this is done.”

She nodded with a small frown and slow words. “What about, um,” Her eyes flicked to Ben—just enough to make him really fucking regret this bet, because she hadn’t looked at him in hours and Christ, she was beautiful—and she swallowed. “Ben and I? I know Sage has said some stuff-“

“Violet asked. I told her you were together but I didn’t mention the engagement. That shit’s not my place.”

“And um, what did she say about that?”

Ben wanted to grab Her perfect face between his hands and tell her that there wasn’t a goddamn chance this was going to be an issue. If Violet had some sort of fucking opinion about it, Ben would do everything in his power to prove that he was serious about this shit. About Her. There was nothing bitter in him about it—he didn’t deserve Her, and he knew that Violet’s acceptance of this probably meant something to Her—but it still made Ben’s whole body strain. Scratch and twist to give up on this stupid bet and just pull every part of Her back to the ground so he could take care of them. Take care of Her.

It was real fucking lucky MM answered Her quickly, or Ben would’ve lost.

“She just asked when it had been official, I said a few weeks after we got you back, and that was it.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Mentioned that she was surprised it wasn’t before all the shit in April, but that’s it.”

“Surprised-“

MM said Her name in a flat voice, eyes fixed on the road. “I still don’t think you fucking idiots understand that you were the last people to know you were dating. I’d bet Mallory’s agents knew before you did.”

“Oh.” She flushed, her hand wandering to hold Ben’s, and he wasn’t even damn certain she knew she was moving it. “Sorry.”

Ben’s jaw clenched, and MM did his work for him.

“Stupid thing to be sorry for. We’re all adults, we knew how to handle your lovesick bullshit without killing you.”

“I don’t,” She frowned, almost fucking pouting. “I don’t think it was that bad.“

MM scoffed. “You were oblivious. We had to pretend we couldn’t see you eye fucking each other over dinner.”

“But-“

“No but,” MM shook his head, and Ben saw his frown flash in the mirror. “What’s important is that you did figure your shit out, and that no matter what the fuck Violet thinks now or thought before, she’ll come around on it.” He let out a labored, slow breath, his voice dropping to a hushed, pushed-through-teeth tone. “I did.”

Her mouth fell open a little, her hand squeezing tight over Ben’s, and her words became soft as she whispered, “you did? Really?”

“He’s still a fucking dick man-baby, but his old ass heart seems to be beating. You’re not a shell of a person with him,” MM muttered Her name, looking between Her and the road. “It’s good to see. Even when it makes me want to throw up, which is all the goddamn time.”

Her body relaxed with her pretty features, she made a small, happy noise of content, and Ben couldn’t even be mad MM had called him a dick man-baby or old, because She was happy.

Ben tangled Her fingers between his, and—still in complete silence—she fully curled into him as he kissed the top of Her head. Ben didn’t bother with taunting, riling touched for the remainder of the car ride, because She looked so goddamn peaceful at his side and this silence didn’t feel like part of their bet. It felt like sitting half inside of each other, easily and comfortably fused against each other without the need for a single other goddamn thing. It was one of the moments where Ben could really fucking feel Her within him out of just an instinct. Feel Her—just so fucking clearly Her—inside his body. Alive and bright, lining Ben’s skull and burrowed so deeply into his whole goddamn world that She flickered in perfect harmony with everything Ben could see or hear or touch. She hummed inside his blood when Ben trailed patterns on Her skin, settling over his bones when he dropped his head to rest against hers, and grew sharp and colorful behind his eyes when she looked up at him a soft smile.

It wasn’t a smile that said anything expect I love you, but not in their old silent words. It told Ben She loved him because it made every piece of Her in his body sing. Ring like church bells announcing something that didn’t need to be announced, reaching further and further into Ben’s body that he didn’t know where his own joy stopped and Her own—built of a million things jammed and melded together that reflected around Ben’s mind like stained glass—began.

And Ben realized that She may feel him like this all the time. That there might never be a moment where Ben—and however the fuck he felt to Her—wasn’t tangible and natural in Her body.

He hoped She did. As almost fucking mind-numbingly consuming as She was inside of him—making it hard to concentrate on the trees blurring past into brick buildings and sidewalks—Ben hoped She felt him all the goddamn time. It would mean that She really, fully understood that Ben started and stopped with Her. That there wasn’t a single fucking moment where he wasn’t tracking the sound of Her heartbeat, or studying her face to try and figure out her insane, maddening, perfect mind. That he was never angry he couldn’t figure Her out, because it was simply another excuse to keep looking at Her beautiful face.

She knew that Ben loved Her—because apparently fucking everyone did—but he still needed Her to know it more. To understand that when he moved to help Her out of the car it was because he’d dedicated himself to knowing how She moved and paced and shifted so as to best leave small offerings of actions and service for his worth.

That learning Her had been the only thing that had ever come easy. The only thing he’d ever learned and never wanted to stop learning. That Ben picked up every strange, seemingly useless piece of information and trivia that fell from Her pretty mouth and used them to keep building his alter to Her. A large, careful place to worship Her that kept this piece of Her inside him safe, made it feel loved.

And Ben really fucking hoped She could feel that, for Ben, she lived every reflection of sunlight on the puddles, gathered on the pavement near the gutter. That She felt how Ben looked at Her—tucked at his side and tapping on his arm—and knew that his love could never be pried or ripped from him, because it was more important to keep than his own fucking hands.

His hands were already Her’s anyway. Brushing hair from Her face and lingering on her cheek. Holding Her own as they walked after MM, along the street to the coffee shop. Opening the door and guiding her inside. Ben needed Her to fucking feel that too.

Needed Her to feel how something in Ben grew wrathful and bloody when she froze at his side barely a step through the door—Her face washing in fear and her nails digging into his skin—and how everything in him narrowed to Her. What’s making Her cave in with hollow eyes and shallow breaths, and what did he need to do for Her to smile again.

The area was mostly empty. A barista with some of the pinkest hair Ben had ever goddamn seen, an old woman with a dog that was too fucking tiny to be useful, and Violet, near the back with two other people Ben didn’t recognize.

One had to be Her brother. Sitting next to Violet, with Violet’s softer features, a slightly different nose from them both, and Her sharp, infinitely amused eyes. They even widened the same way Her’s did, when she was in true, genuine shock, making their whole faces open and animated, lips parted with a gleam that said they didn’t fully trust what they saw.

But Ben didn’t have a fucking clue who the woman was. There was gray in Her hair—so probably fucking old—and her back to the door was rigid and straight, giving off a feeling that she thought she was better. That whoever the fuck this lady was, she was above everything around her, above everyone. That even the damn chair wasn’t worthy of her sitting on it. The whole fucking air of it reminded Ben of his father. Made him taste cocktails that were still sour because he’d been so young, and hear nothing but a ticking clock in a long, empty hall this father didn’t care to grace with his presence.

The person Ben had ever met who deserved to look down at everything was Her, and She was never fucking like that. Ben had called Her art before—beautiful in a way that extended beyond just what Ben could see, sinking into his skin and stirring his whole body with things only She knew how to pry out—but art wasn’t supposed to be touched. And Ben really fucking loved touching Her, the same way She loved touching everything. Settling in wherever she sat, tapping and running her hands over every surface available to Her, holding Ryan in Her arms and letting Ben hold Her in his. Letting Ben touch Her everywhere, and touching him right back. Fingers in his hair, and brows pressed together, a hand holding his arm over Her shoulder’s and legs tangled together under sheets.

Everything Ben had seen his father touch had been with movements of vague disgust, as if the lesser object or person would infect him. It was the same way this woman was keeping her fingers light and raised off the table, only moving in a rhythm Ben recognized. A rhythm that he’d learned to recognize anywhere, just one off-beat from the pattern being tapped on his hand on Her hips.

The woman turned in her chair as it clicked in Ben’s head, and fucking hell, She looked just like her mother. It was the almost same face Ben loved and could look at for a million years without ever feeling the need to stray his gaze or move, but with something inverted. Something so imperceivable that was altered between them, that made Ben feel like there was bile filling up his lungs and something churning in his gut.

Because the longer Ben looked—the whole room heavy and wired, time seeming to slow as they all stared at each other—the more he realized there was nothing alike about them at all. It might be the same face—a goddamn duplicate, everything from skin to eyes to lips to hair right where it was supposed to be—but there was something fucking off about Her mother’s. It wasn’t something obvious, like the fact that Her’s was trapped in youth and Her mother’s was lined with age. It was deeper. Something fundamental on Her that Ben adored and devoted himself to caring for, that was just wasn’t fucking there on Her mother. Not missing, not a hole or hollow Her mother had never filled. Just not there, something wrong where it was supposed to be.

It lived in their eyes. Ben knew Her face better than he’d ever known fucking anything, and her eyes were sharp but filled with light. When She was being herself and not falling or breaking, there was always something magnetic in them that spread over her every other feature, and made Ben want to get as close to her as he possibly fucking could. Reach out to hold Her, to sit in any warmth and life she offered him, to just fucking love her and love her and hope that, though she shined on everything, in the end she was really just alight for Ben. That for all the love She held, her love for Ben was different, because the light in Her eyes burst and flared and turned to pure flame for him and only him. That she’d never deprive the rest of the world of this kind beauty, but She’d also allow Ben to touch her and serve her, in a way no other pussy fucker got it.

Her mother shouldn’t be touched or cared for. There wasn’t anything in Her mother’s eyes that called Ben forward, because they were like a wasteland. They weren’t sharp, but they were still cutting. Invasive and so fucking horrible to look into. And where She was something strange and sacred, Her mother felt like a statue. Something that had been designed to be elegant, to be perfect and idolized, but hadn’t fucking earned it. It was only cold, too clean stone that had never crawled through mud or remained beautiful through trial and torture. Everything about Her mother seemed to demand everything bend for her will, but Ben had no fucking desire to do anything for this bitch.

The only goddamn thing she’d get from Ben was hatred. Cold, furious loathing while every warm thing he had to offer was pushed into Her. His hand held Her steady, his whole body tensed and half-wrapped over Her’s, fucking ready for whatever the hell came next.

They’d all silently agreed not to make the first move. She seemed frozen in place, Ben wouldn’t fucking leave Her side, and MM had muttered a low shit that told Ben he’d realized what was going on. Violet just looked sad and fucking guilty— eyes locked onto Her’s with shifting expression’s Ben couldn’t understand—and their brother looked just as frozen as She was, everyone seeming to just be fucking waiting for what Her mother would do.

Ben was only seconds from just fucking stomping over the room—keeping his body a pace before Her’s—and getting everything moving so this could be done, but then Her mother said Her name, and it was the worst way Ben had ever heard it. This had a scolding familiarity to it that felt practiced and deliberate. The Bitch said Her name like she was a fucking dog. Even fucking Homelander had mostly said it like She was a person. The wrong person—a hateful and fake idea of Her that held her face but nothing that made Her her—but a person all the same. Her mother said Her name as if She was a doll, and worse, it fucking worked. She folded back into Ben, Her heart racing and her nails digging into his skin, and Ben had to just hold Her.

Until he got the clear to start breaking spines and shedding blood over the tiled floors, Ben had to just hold Her.

The Bitch said Her name again, and Ben was going to rip out the bitch’s tongue and feed it to her. “Come sit down. I’m sure,” The Bitch’s gaze drifted to Ben, MM, and Kimiko, all silent and rigid behind Her. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Ben squeezed Her hand, and it seemed to spark her into action. She nodded and moved to the table, tugging Ben after Her.

What the fuck is your mother doing here. Ben muttered between their heads, and if She was surprised he’d made the connection himself, she didn’t show it.

Violet says she got tricked. They said they were going out to get lunch, but Mom told them she wanted to come. They agreed with the plan to just drop her off and run, knowing she’d be fine, but then when they all got out Mom moved to the driver’s seat and said she knew they were going to see me. They had to bring her, or they wouldn’t get here themselves. No murder, let me do the talking.

Fine. Ben kept his eyes narrowed on the Bitch as they dropped at the table. But if she fucking tries anything-

I’m serious, Ben. No murder-

They were snapped out of their silent words by the Bitch, clearing her throat as MM and Kimiko joined them.

“It’s good to see you. You look quite healthy for being dead.”

She shook Her head slowly, taking a long breath before speaking soft words that didn’t sound right from her mouth. “What are you doing here, Mom? Why did you make Vi and Sterling bring you.”

“You’re my daughter, of course I wanted to see you-“

“We both know that’s not true.” She muttered, her voice rising slightly. “Please just tell me what I’m supposed to do, so I can get it over with.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” The Bitch sighed Her name like a wounded fucking animal. “We’re in no rush, and you haven’t even introduced us to your, ah, companions.”

“MM, Kimiko,” She pointed to them as she spoke—MM giving a cold, curt nod Ben appreciated, and Kimiko offering a nervous wave—before looking up at Ben with a slightly softer expression, made of something calm. “And Ben. Now can we-“

“Ben.” The Bitch repeated, and Her heart picked up pace. “How exactly did you meet Ben?”

“I kidnapped him. Mom, this is really important-“

“You kidnapped him?” The Bitch laughed, like She was some sort of fucking child. “You can’t kidnap Soldier Boy, sweetie.”

“She did,” Violet mumbled, still shooting them apologetic, anxious looks. “She’s a supe now, Mom. She’s strong.”

“I am well aware of that, Violet, but all she can do is party tricks. That isn’t enough to kidnap the world’s strongest man-“

MM snorted at that. “It’s not just party tricks.”

“Excuse me-“

“Sorry, ma’am.” MM shrugged, not flinching under the Bitch’s glare. “But I’ve seen her blow up buildings and make a whole building of agents collapse. Your daughter can do a hell of a lot more damage than party tricks. And she’s certainly stronger than this asshole.”

The Bitch followed MM’s gesture to Ben, and made another disbelieving sound. “I know my daughter, and it is incredibly unlikely she’d be stronger than Soldier Boy-“

“She is.” Ben snapped, barely thinking about the words as they left his mouth. “She’s stronger than fucking Homelander. So watch it.”

“Watch it.” The Bitch smiled, looking Ben up and down, and he didn’t bother to hide the disgust on his face. “You seem to be quite close with her, Ben-“

“Don’t call him that.” She leaned forward over the table, Her voice finally regaining to hot venom Ben fucking loved, and knew to mean she wouldn’t pull punches or dance around words. “Don’t talk to him, Mom. Just tell me what the fuck you want.”

Something shifted in the Bitch, and any formal, fake fucking niceties vanished. “I am here for answers. I am here for the reason you have put your father and I-“

“He’s not my father-“

“He is your family. And you have put him, put us, through hell these last few months. Media harassment, airing out all our misunderstandings like dirty laundry, painting yourself to be a victim when all you have done is behave like a child. You’ve hurt us,” The Bitch said Her name mock, cold disappointment. “You’ve been incredibly selfish, and I want to know why you’re now trying to take my children away from me.”

She gaped slightly, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, they’re in real danger-“

“Danger you created. There would be nothing to worry about if you could just bite your tongue and keep a good, strong head on your shoulders. But no, you have to turn this into some sort of spectacle-“

“I didn’t fucking do anything-“

“You most certainly did.” The Bitch sneered. “Just in the past month you’ve peddled manipulative lies, murdered that poor woman in cold blood, embarrassed Todd at work, and threatened him with, your loyal little guard dog. You’ve ruined everything, and have seen yourself fit to drag this strong, powerful man down your level. If you had just listened to me, none of this would’ve happened you know. You’d be taken care of, even if you were still just a weak little girl-“

The wooden table splintered as Ben hit it, shutting the Bitch up with a bloodless face.

“Last fucking warning,” he hissed, leaning forward so the Bitch could hopefully fucking feel the wrath and hate starting to bang around Ben’s chest in an even rhythm, trying to get out and protect Her. “I couldn’t give a goddamn fly pig’s ballsack that you’re her mother, if you say another word about my wife, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Ben only realized his exact words after he’d said them. When MM muttered fuck, and She stared at him a wide, half adoring and amused, half pissed off expression.

Wife?

What.

Don’t play dumb, Pretty Boy, you’re bad at it-

I’m not going to fucking take it back-

I’m not going to tell you to take it back, but now I have to answer questions-

Almost on perfect fucking cue, Violet coughed.

“Are you, um, did you get married-“

“No. But someone,” She shot Ben a pointed glare, and he winked back. “Is a huge fucking dumb dumb with a big mouth.”

A big mouth you love-

A big mouth that’s going to get punched later-

“So you’re,” Sterling finally fucking spoke, and his voice sounded more like Her’s than Violet’s. With an accent that wasn’t placeable, but just them. Impossibly distinct, with every goddamn word they said sounding smart. “You’re not married to Soldier Boy.”

“Yet.” Ben grunted, and the looks on Her family’s faces were more than worth the heated slap to his leg.

“What exactly,” the Bitch said, her voice weighted and low. “Do you mean by yet.”

She gave Ben one last daggered glare before meeting the Bitch’s eyes, Her perfect face turning into something almost fucking prideful. “He means we’re engaged.”

Something flashed across the Bitch’s face that Ben didn’t understand. “To be wed.”

“That’s what engaged usually does mean, Mom-“

“Hell.” The Bitch shook her head, but she didn’t sound or look angry. She mostly just seemed inconvenienced. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to that woman.”

She, MM, Ben, and Kimiko exchanged similar what the fuck is she talking about looks, and Her words were careful and slow.

“What woman.”

“That haughty, annoying one with Vought. Sister Sage.” The Bitch waved her hand, frowning into the air. “I didn’t think you’d manage to surprise me and pull this off yourself, but you did, and if I wasn’t going to give her a piece of my mind before-“

“Mom,” She said, leaning across the table with a sharp, silent wrath in her eyes. “What the fuck did you do.”

“It’s what she did, dear. Breaching on our deal, turning against me just because of Homelander gaining what she called sense, but I call temporary cold feet-“

“Deal?” There wasn’t anything fucking hollow or nervous in Her voice. It was urgent, dangerous, and would be fucking hot if Ben wasn’t putting together all the pieces to reach a conclusion She already seemed to have. “What deal did you make with Sage.”

“Well, there’s no need to take that tone. And I didn’t think you’d be able to do this yourself-“

“Mom-“

“And it was a deal. We made a promise, a commitment, and there’s never a valid reason to go back on that. And especially not to throw us under the bus for their mistakes-“

“Ma’am.” MM jumped in, his face holding an equal anger Ben could feel in his body. “It is incredibly important you tell us exactly what Sage promised you, and what you promised her.”

The Bitch rolled her eyes, but huffed, “It was a handshake deal. I’d use Todd to make sure she got what she needed from the defense department and government, provide some chemicals she said were annoying to make or whatever, and she’d ensure your marriage to Homelander, which is all I’ve ever wanted for you! There’s no higher status than Homelander’s wife, but then they backed out, and Todd lost the VP slot! I never wouldn’t made it if I’d known she’d betray us like that, if I’d known your relationship with Solider Boy was real!”

Ben’s vision was lined with red, and he might break his own fists. That golden feeling over his ribs—atomic and wrathful and dedicated to fucking protecting Her all the goddamn time—was beating against him, trying to burst out and reduce the Bitch to just a fucking imprint on the wall.

But Her hand squeezed on Ben’s knee, and Her voice in his head was cold and steady I’ve got this. No murder.

Ben grunted an affirmation—not caring if it was aloud or between their heads—and She took a labored breath Ben could feel the fury of before speaking.

“Are you insane.” She hissed. “You sold your soul to the fucking devil, and all you can think is that, if you’d known I was going to get married anyway, you might not have?”

The Bitch’s eyes narrowed. “I was doing what’s best for you. Even when you’ve been cruel to me, I’ve only wanted what’s best for you-“

“And you think that’s what’s best for me is marrying the man who kidnapped, raped, and experimented on me? And selling out the whole fucking country in the process?”

“Don’t be dramatic-“

“I am not being fucking dramatic. Because of what you did, stopping us from getting the federal supply of V, we had to get creative. Getting creative killed Grace Mallory, which lost Todd the VP slot, and now Singer might give it to fucking Homelander. Who is, in case we’re not clear, a fucking monster.”

“Please,” the Bitch gave Her a pointed look, and Ben wondered why he hadn’t already pulled out her tongue. “It’s not like Soldier Boy is an angel either, I’ve read the official Starlight reports-“

“Do not speak about him like that.” She leaned forward, her words almost spitting out of her mouth. “He makes me happy. He loves me, and takes good care of me, and doesn’t fucking try to lock me up and control me. He likes my temperament, he thinks it’s hot because he’s fucking insane, and I love him, and after I kill Homelander I’m going to marry him, and you’re never going to be part of our lives. You’re going to go with Violet and Sterling, and let MM hide you so the very people you sold your fucking daughter to don’t kill you, and then I’m never going to see your fucking face again. Violet-“

“We’ll go with him,” Violet said quickly, glancing at the Bitch—who looked like a gaping and cruel idiot—before looking back to Her. “But Mom-“

“She agrees to go with you, or she sticks around and dies.” She stood up, and Ben followed without a fucking thought as she continued, looking between her siblings. “I love you, and you’re going to be okay. I promise you’re going to be okay. I’m so, so sorry-“

Her voice cracked slightly, and Violet shot up, rounding the table and pulling Her into a tight hug. Sterling was close behind, and Ben kept a close fucking eye on the Bitch, in case she tried to interrupt this. But she just looked at her children, still in shock, and they pulled apart on their own time.

“You’ll be safe,” She whispered again, and when she took a shaking step back, Ben caught her and held her up. “I swear you’ll be safe. And when this is over, I’ll explain everything. But right now-“

“You have to go,” Sterling nodded, and he didn’t sound angry. “Violet told me what she knows, and we get it. You have to go.”

She nodded, giving them a soft, sad smile, and let Ben guide Her onto the street. MM and Kimiko didn’t need goodbyes—they’d see them again by fucking tomorrow anyway—and the Bitch looked like she wanted to say something, but was smart enough not to.

The Bitch should count herself lucky, that Ben cared about how he was beginning to feel sick and empty and cold—which meant that She was in pain, and needed him—a fuck ton more than he cared about wasting time on vengeance.

Right now, nothing mattered more than Her. Then getting Her into the car, and far, far away from what Ben couldn’t even fully fucking comprehend. Keeping his hand against Her thigh, trying to tide over the cracks he could feel beginning to lines his vision and the horrible sense of dread and wrong living in his blood.

Then, when She made a small, choked sound, pulling Butcher’s car off the highway and helping her climb into his lap. Letting Her bury her head in his chest and shatter there, where she’d be safe. Where Ben could hold Her in silence as she fell apart, then do whatever needed to be done for this to become fucking bearable.

Ben, I- Her words were almost fucking inaudible between their minds, Her gasps and strangled tears muffled against Ben’s body. I don’t know what to do. What do I do.

He didn’t know. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue what to do with what they’d just learned. But he’d be damned if he just let Her break further than she needed to.

Whatever you have to. Tell Butcher, include it in your address, keep it a secret for the rest of goddamn time. Whatever makes this shit livable.

She sold me, Her sob wracked her whole body, and Ben almost broke his fucking teeth. She fucking sold me to Homelander, and I’m not even sure when she did it. It could’ve been months ago. It could’ve been when I first resurfaced, or right before the tower, or when I first fucking met Sage-

I know. Ben grunted in the silence, drawing circles on Her back. I know, Sunshine. I know.

She nodded against him, and Her breathing, slowly, began to ease. Her heartbeat became what it was supposed to be, and they stayed there until this she let out a soft, breathy laugh, turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between her fingers.

“I’m not,” She shook Her head in Ben’s chest. “I’m not sure who lost. The bet.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “We could call it even and just fucking start over-“

“No.” Her answer was frantic but hushed, her face shooting up to look at Ben with wide eyes. “I don’t want to not talk to you. Not now. Please.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss the space between Her eyes. “Okay, Sunshine. It’s off.”

She hummed, her hands moving to hold Ben’s face. “I could, maybe I could still give you a blowjob?”

“Do you want to give me a fucking blowjob?”

“Um.” She swallowed, flushing slightly. “Yes.”

“Do I get to eat you out?”

“Yes, please.”

Ben snorted, muttering an agreement, and he still wasn’t fucking sure how he’d gotten here. Having to pull his perfect fucking wife off his lap—but keeping their hands tangled together and resting on his thigh—so he could drive her home. Bring Her somewhere safer than here, so he could hold her right and clear her head while he still had the time. Whisper promises in Her ear that he’d die to keep, about how he’d give her better than that. About how, whatever came after, Ben would keep holding her and loving her, in a way that felt almost fucking pure.

Twisted and scarred and forged somewhere dark and burning, but still pure. Incapable of ruin, incapable of being tainted or broken, just fucking love. Just a future that was brighter than what was behind them, and a life where She’d always feel safe enough to break, and always be able to get back up after.

A future Ben really damn wanted, where Her and Ryan’s smiles were never in danger of being wiped from their faces.

Where Ben just kept loving them, and they felt it, and that was the whole fucking world.

—————————

There’s only one light, flashing from Hughie’s hand as he begins the recording, but it’s still blinding and cold.

You take five deep breaths, one for every good thing that you want to do this for. Everything you want to hold onto when after comes.

Ryan. Music. Stuffed Lions. Gardens. Ben.

Hughie gives you a thumbs up—a signal to begin—and you look to Ben. A step behind Hughie, watching you carefully with a grim, set expression. Everything between your bodies is straining to make you stand and move to fall against him, but you have to do this alone. Not fully alone, never fully alone again, but standing alone. With Ben inside you—rolling around the top of your chest and rumbling in a rhythm that feels like your name—but still too far to touch. To seek the comfort of him warmth and solid certainty.

But you can still feel his love and devotion. You’re wearing the ring again—twisting it on your finger as you take one last, long, steadying breath—and it’s just another way in millions to know Ben is her, and loves you, and will burn with you. No matter how this goes, Ben will burn with you.

So you can fucking do this. You have the slightly crumpled paper in your hands with everything you need to say, and now all you have to do is talk.

You start with your name, just for clarity and the fuck of it, and begin. “You know me as the Anomaly. And I am, but not by choice. I am the Anomaly because Homelander decided I should be. Because, four years ago, he kidnapped me, faked my death, and held me hostage on, likely, Vought property. I spent first two years in complete isolation, only seeing Homelander when he visited me to rape me.” Something starts to taste vile in the back of your mouth, but you have to keep talking. If you stop now, you won’t get through this, and you’ve barely even started. “I was kept locked up for the intention of breeding, like fucking cattle. Then, after Soldier Boy returned to America, Homelander became obsessed with immortality and I was moved to a Vought lab, and experimented on by Vought scientists in order to recreate the original formula of compound V, which slowed the aging process.

“It was a successful experiment. I was given my super name, the Anomaly, because I was injected with V four times, and developed four completely isolated powers. The pyrokenesis I am known for, which I used to escape captivity, a healing factor that has made me unkillable, empathy, and sensory manipulation. I am stronger than Solider Boy. I am stronger than Homelander. For the past year since my escape, I have been fighting Vought alongside Starlight and William Butcher, but have not stood in direct opposition to Homelander due to the former volatility of my powers. I was afraid of the man who spent four years sexually, emotionally, and medically abusing me. I am not afraid anymore, and I am ready to corroborate every accusation Starlight has made against Homelander, Sage, and Vought, and talk. These are my words. I wrote them, I am saying them, and nobody is making me. So, please, listen.

“I have been working with Butcher, Starlight, and their former CIA funded team, the Boys, since June of last year. In November, after we failed to locate a possible bio-weapon against Homelander, I pitched to then President elect Robert Singer and former Deputy Director of the CIA, Grace Mallory, that Soldier Boy be woken up and used as a weapon. My plan was approved, and he was woken up in early December. Per the plan, was to I live with him in a CIA safe-house and keep him in line until Ryan Butcher was removed from Vought Tower and we had a direct, clean shot at Homelander. Soldier Boy would remove his powers with the V-wiping bomb in his chest, and then be pardoned and sent off American soil to live in exile. Nothing went…” you trail off, glancing at the continually formal speech in your hands, and give up on it. It matters that this sounds real, and none of these words sound real.

Ben is real. You’re real. This pain is real, and so is your love.

So you crumple the paper up, and look back directly into the camera.

“Nothing went as we intended it to. I fell in love with Soldier Boy. He fell in love with me. My original plan to extract Ryan Butcher went to shit, and I had to make another. That one worked, but I ended up back in Homelander’s captivity. My team found a way to safely kill Homleander, but Sage destroyed it all at the Believe Expo, which, for the record, was not a terrorist attack. It might have technically been a robbery, but it became a play to fake A-Train’s death, and help him escape. I remained with Vought to find an alternative location of our weapon, but failed to, and escaped. Once I was safe, I didn’t want to be in the public eye. I was broken, and weak, and too fucking tired to face this myself. I helped Starlight plan and write her address in June, and it was my idea to remain away from the public eye.

But more things kept going wrong. When we found another avenue to get our hands on the weapon, we were blocked by Singer and Secretary Muller, who, As Sage has said, is my step-father. I had not spoken to him in thirteen fucking years, and he has been in direct collaboration with Sage. She has tried to paint him as a villain, and he is a terrible man, but he’s also an idiot. I would never want him in a position as powerful as Vice President of the United States, and neither would Sage, which is why she has turned on him and paved the way for Homelander to take federal office.

“Homelander cannot be allowed to take federal office. He cannot be allowed within a hundred fucking miles of the White House. He is a monster. Since both my and Ryan Butcher’s escapes, he has not stopped trying to take us back, and has been willing to kill everyone we care about to do it. And I have not been fucking innocent in this. I destroyed the rec center at Victoria Neuman’s rally. I killed Firecracker. I did not commit the Tek Night massacre in New Jersey, and I did not kill Black Noir or Grace Mallory, but I was in immediate proximity to both events. Because of Homelander. Because I have been trying to save people from him, but I have cared, and he has not. He wants to control me, control you, and kill everyone who stands in his way. But we can stop him. We found our weapon. So, Vought workers, around the world, this is for you. Get out. Jump shipwhile you still can. If you have anyone you love, anything you care about, run. Now. If you take anything away from my speech, make it this.

“Almost every plan we made got fucked. Almost everything I said I’d never do, I did. And we’ve kept going. It didn’t matter what our public image was, or has been, or will be after this. The world will not be safe until Homelander is dead. And there will be work to do after, but right now, that’s all that matters. That’s what’s coming. And Homelander,” you narrow your eyes at the camera, leaning forward. “Ben and I are ready for you. None of us are martyrs or heroes, but this is it. I’m stronger. Ben’s stronger. And we both have something to live for, and something to die for. You don’t have either. You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, and this is it.” You raise your chin high, staring Homelander down without seeing him. “You turned me into the Anomaly. You drove Ben and I together. If you weren’t such a narcissistic sociopath, I’d probably be halfway across the world, writing academic papers and dating some foreign, normal guy. But now I’m going to kill you, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” Your face curls into a twisted smirk, born from something like liberation. Like a million pieces falling into place as you turn your attention to Ben—pounding and rioting in your body—and see your expression mirrored on his face. “I’ll see you soon, Homelander.” You look back to the camera. “We both will.”

The light of the camera turns off, the video finishes, and that’s it. You’d done what you could, said what you needed to, and now all that was to finish it. To actually, really, kill Homelander.

Hughie’s talking about how he’s going to watch the video over and upload it. Butcher’s muttering that it wasn’t half bad, and Annie’s giving you a tentative thumbs up and saying words that are probably reassuring praise.

You can’t hear any of them. All you can hear is an off-key ringing in your ears, and the pounding of your own heart as your eyes start to blur and your head starts to turn faster than you can follow. You’d missed things. You don’t really remember anything you said, but there’s so way you got everything. The speech was too short, because you’d missed things that you probably couldn’t afford to miss. No, it was too long, because you’d spent time on semantics and details that didn’t matter. It was okay to mention A-Train was alive, you’d cleared it with him first, but you hadn’t mentioned Neuman. But Neuman wasn’t a supe, and she couldn’t defend herself. And she has a kid, A-Train doesn’t have a kid. But you also hadn’t mentioned Ashley, but she’s not that importance really, but she could be. She could provide key testimony when this is done, and you need that testimony, but you’ll also need A-Train’s testimony.

You didn’t think long term. None of this had been thought in the long term. You just accused Singer of something, by saying he’d blocked the V, and he’s still going to be president after this. You should’ve mentioned the Boys more, try to exonerate them of some of their crimes, so Singer wouldn’t turn on them as well. On you. You’d just confessed to murder. Multiple murders. There’s blood on your hands and there’s a crack that’s reaching down your spine and now there’s nothing left to stop Homelander from hurting people you love.

You’d confessed to loving Ben. You’d told the world you loved Ben. And you did. And you wouldn’t take it back. Everything is cold and you can’t really breathe, but you won’t take it back. You can fight Homelander now, but it still comes in waves, and you’re still afraid. You’d said you weren’t afraid.

It was a lie. You’re so cold and tired and afraid, and you strong but not strong enough for this, and you’d just said everything and now you can’t control what happens. You’d just strung up your guts and organs and skin for all the world to see, and they may not be as careful with them as Ben is. As you need right now.

Nothing is in focus, and everything feels like it’s being knocked out of and away from you, and there’s no more light here. There’s something good that’s touching you—rubbing circles on your cheeks, holding your face between big, warm hands—and something that sounds right saying your name, but you still can’t hear anything but the blood.

Blood. So much blood on your hands and this ringing is get a key off from something that’s haunting you, and you don’t feel broken but you’re still weak. Weak and covered in blood-

You hear your name in your own head, like a thought that you didn’t create, and things start to come down as it’s repeated. Over and over like a prayer until you begin to down to earth and you’re staring at a green that you know belongs to Ben.

Ben-

You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fucking fine. It’s an order. He’s telling you that you’re not fine right now, but you will be. That, eventually, you will be fine, because there’s not another option. Ben won’t let there be another option. I’m here. I am right goddamn here, Sunshine, and you’re going fucking fine.

You nod, and drop your brow to Ben’s because it’s the only thing you know how to do. You’re still figuring out how to breathe—it helps to listen to Ben do it, because he does everything in such a firm and certain manner it has to be correct—and you can’t remember how to stand, so all you can do is fall into Ben. Stay here until your chest is falling into a pattern with his, and fold against him as he moves your head to his shoulder—pressing a soft, reverent kiss on your brow as he does—and pulls you into his arms. Let him stand up, cling to him like a lifeline, and listen to the grumbled exchanges around you.

“Is she-“

“She needs a minute.” Ben grumbles, his voice rolling through your body as he cuts Annie off. “You pussies do the plan, and we can hear it after.”

Your hands curl on Ben’s neck as you shake your head, finding to will and strength to move your head and meet his gaze.

I’m okay. You aren’t convinced by your own words, but you push on all the same. I’m really okay. We need to do this.

Ben scowls, and you can feel his ardor concentrate into something that’s coating over his ribs and trying to wrap over your skin. You are not fucking okay. You went fucking catatonic, that’s not goddamn okay-

I was not catatonic, you dramatic cunt. And I can make it through a meeting.

You can. You’re pulling yourself together. Wrinkling your nose at Ben—trading sharp words that have no edge with him—is something that you’ll always know how to do. That, somehow, grounds you just as well as Ben’s own stone resolve. You think it’s because it’s certain. You will always tease and mock each other, and Ben will always roll his eyes and glower, and you will always stick out your tongue and pout at him. And no matter what, he won’t go, and neither will you. There won’t be any lines for what you can and can’t say, because you both know it would probably kill you to hurt each other.

So you’re coming back to yourself, and it’s because Ben is scowling, and alive and loud in your chest.

I could fucking feel you, he growls your name in the heavy silence of the room, his hold on your body tightens. You need to rest-

I’ll rest after the meeting-

Or you could rest right fucking now-

Or I could rest after the meeting. Your hands move to hold his face, running his beard between your fingers as you offer him a sad but easy smile. We’re so close, Ben. We’re really, really close, and I need to do this. You can carry me upstairs and pin me to the bed to make me rest, after, but it has to be after. Please.

Swear it. Swear you’ll rest.

I’ll rest. I promise.

Ben’s jaw is clenched so tightly you’re worried he’ll break it, but you get a stiff nod as he sits down. Keeping you in his lap as he looks up, glaring at something over your head.

“Go get the rest of the fucking dumbass pussies. You get ten minutes before we fucking leave.”

“Ain’t you gonna say please, Gov-“

“No.”

You hear Butcher’s huff, and twist in Ben’s arms just in time to see him stomping away.

It doesn’t take long to gather everyone. Annie, Hughie, and Frenchie are already here, Neuman, Ashley, and A-Train had just been waiting in the kitchen, and MM and Kimiko are still with your family, so within three minutes you’re all settled the living room, watching each other in a weary silence.

You do really want to just go rest with Ben, for all of this to be done, so you speak first.

“I have a plan-“

“Ain’t that a surprise-“

“Shove it up your ass, Butcher.” You flip him off without looking, and continue. “I’ve had a plan. It’s, it has kind of adapted to the cards we have, but it will work all the same. You guys,” your attention turns to Ashley, A-Train, and Neuman. “Need to make me a promise first, though.”

Neuman frowns, sitting up a little straighter. “What kind of promise could you need from us-“

“Mostly one about honor. Keeping your word.”

“That is so fucking vague-“

“It’s meant to be vague, Ashley.” A-Train mutters, glaring at you in a way that feels more cautious than hateful. “She’s trying to feel out how likely we are to agree.”

Ashley looks to you with wide eyes, and you sigh.

“I am.” Your words gaining a more urgent edge, because this is important. “But forgive me for not fully trusting you-“

“You tell us what sort of promise you need,” A-Train snaps over you, foot bouncing in his seat. “And as long as it’s not something really shitty, we’ll make it.”

You examine him, and he seems genuine. He mostly just looks tired. Done with all of this. You understand that, you can feel it in your bones and muscles, so you keep talking.

“I want your word that, when this is over, you’ll stay on our side. Go on the record and say everything you’ve seen and witnessed, about Vought and the government and Homelander and anything else. All the Red River shit, how you,” you nod to Neuman. “Were the Head Popper, and anything Sage ever told you. Say it again, under oath if necessary.”

Neuman’s eyes narrow. “And why would I possibly want to admit to be the Head Popper. Why would any of us want to admit anything-“

“Because this farm is about to be a war zone.” You keep your words casual and bored, but your gaze sharp. “And if you agree to work with us after, we’ll keep you out of danger and make sure your families,” you look to A-Train. “All your families, aren’t caught in the crossfire. We can negotiate your pardons and deals before we bring you out of hiding, or we can testify about all the crimes we know you committed and you just get locked up.”

“That’s not fair!” Ashley’s words are frantic. Panicked. “You’re trying to fucking blackmail us, that’s a fucking crime-“

“All of this is a crime.” You snap, giving Ashley a daggered glare. “But we’re about to be the people that killed Homelander. You can either work with us, or not. It’s up to you.”

There’s a moment of heavy, painful silence, and you’re not sure if they’re trying to call your bluff, but there isn’t one. You’re past bluffs, here. Now it’s just about survival, and knowing if you can trust them with anything.

Finally A-Train coughs, and something like lead dissipates in your blood.

“Fine. Deal.”

His tired, flat voice spurs Neuman and Ashley into action, and you get two more reluctant agreements. There will be more time for details later. What deals you can cut and what you’ll need them to take the stand on can wait, because now you have to talk about the plan. It’s immediate and so fucking fragile, and you finally have your shot. You can’t waste valuable time before you take it.

“Good.” You look around the room, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm as you calculate every word, every risk, everything that could go wrong and everything that will go wrong, and still know that this is your best bet. This is what has to be done. “We’ll get them to a safe house with Zoe until this is over, and Homelander will come to us. It’s empty up here, and Edgar won’t miss this place if it gets destroyed in the fight. All his livestock died in November, and he’s not getting out of prison anytime soon, so I’m comfortable making this collateral. We’ll lure him, booby-trap the fuck out of the grounds, and disorient him enough for someone to get the drill into him. Frenchie-“

“It will be ready tomorrow. A projectile, and I can make many.” Frenchie looks around the group with a grim expression. “One shot. A single hit, and it will if my work is correct, wedge in his skin, and the V will be shot into his system by a trigger.”

Butcher frowns. “We got enough of this shit for mass production-“

“Oui.” Frenchie gives one, firm nod. “A small amount, a micro-dose, will be more than effective. Just one,” Frenchie makes a sound, miming a syringe. “And the fucker will go down like it is nap time, and he is having a sugar crash.”

“Awesome,” you chew on your tongue, squeezing your hand on Ben. “Then all that we’ll have to do-“

We. Ben grunts in your head, and you can feel something in him grow powerful and bloody. You’re not getting fucking near that Star-caped pussy-

It was the royal we, Benjamin. You twist in his lap, giving him a pointed glare. And I can fight Homelander. I’m stronger-

I fucking know that. I am not worried about how fucking strong you are, I’m worried about you-

“You twats care to involve us in your little fuckin spat?” Butcher drawls, and you turn to see him looking more annoyed than angry. “Cause if it’s ‘bout the bloody mission we’re all riskin our asses for, we should put it up for vote-“

“None of your goddamn business-“

“You don’t want her near the fight, Gov, ain’t that it?” Butcher smirks, but there’s something hollow behind it. “Worried she may get hurt when Homelander decides he ain’t playin nice? That you might lose ‘er because she’ll make some stupid fuckin sacrifice and you ain’t gonna have nothin left to live for?”

You think Ben is going to murder Butcher. And you might have let him, is you couldn’t feel the powerful and bloody thing start to rot. To twist and cave in on itself, and swing back and forth between a fury that’s pushing around his chest and out of his body, and a molding, aching pain that’s climbing up his spine and into his heart.

Ben. Is Butcher, you pause, waiting for Ben’s violet glare to turn to you and soften slightly. Is he right.

He’s tearing himself apart. There’s something like a tornado or hurricane in Ben’s body, and you can almost hear how it’s hurting him in his grunted, Yes.

I’ll be okay, Ben. I can’t die-

I fucking know that. It’s not- His scowl becomes mostly lines on his face, and his whole body is only made of the aching storm. I am not losing you.

You won’t lose me-

And I fucking know, and I don’t fucking care. He’s not yelling between your heads, but his voice is loud, and almost fucking hopeless in a way that breaks your heart. You’re more than damn stronger enough to fight him, and I don’t fucking want you to. You are goddamn capable and brilliant and strong, and I don’t want you anywhere fucking near this shit. You can’t start fucking breaking again and expect me to just be fine with throwing my wife into a goddamn fight with Homelander. A cowardly fucking pussy psychopath who’s not going pull punches, who’s going to try and take away the only two people I give a fuck about, the only people I’ve ever fucking loved, and if I lose them it will be my own goddamn fault for letting them get hurt when I should’ve fucking kept them safe-

You can’t let him keep doing this to himself, because you understand. You and Ryan are all Ben has, and he’s not going allow himself to put you in harm’s way. You can fight him on this, and probably win, and if something does, somehow, go wrong, Ben won’t ever forgive himself. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for the first time, and the second time would destroy him, the same way your second time had broken you.

And you’d stay with him. When you found your way back to Ben, you’d stay with him until the storm passed, even if it took a hundred years. He’d grow paranoid and wake you up with explosions of golden light from his chest, but he’d still be Ben, the same way you’re still you.

But if you can do anything for him, offer him anything that’s truly vital, it’s sparing him that pain. It’s bending, just for this, because you know Ben will fight with a clear, determined, focused wrath if he knows Ryan is safe with you, and you’re both far away from Homelander.

You don’t really want to see Homelander die anyway. There’s nothing sadistic or bloodthirsty in your body, because you’re so tired of pain and sick of blood on your hands. Hearing the words Homelander’s dead, seeing his small husk of a body, and marrying Ben in a world where Homelander will never hurt anyone again will be all you need.

So you kiss Ben in a soft, gentle way that makes his hands on your body relax and the mold in his body start to fade as the glow grows, and look back to your team. Waiting silently for you and Ben to finish.

“I’ll take Ryan. He and I will go with them,” you nod to Neuman, Ashley, and A-Train. “And hide until the mission is done. You’ll get the V into Homelander, Ben will blast him, and Butcher will shoot him. And that will be it.”

There are small, nervous nods, and Hughie clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

“What about, um, what about Sage-“

“I’ll take care of it. I just need a day.” You lean back into Ben’s body, looking around the room with your most firm, immovable expression. You might have copied Ben’s—a set jaw, deep lines on your face, and an unspoken glint in your eyes that says I know what the fuck I’m doing—but it does the trick all the same. Nobody pushes you, and that’s it.

You have a fucking plan.

Everyone shuffles off to eat or talk or pretend that Homelander won’t be here in before the week is over. That everything isn’t either going to have crumbled or begin to grow again, and it all rides on getting this right. On not missing, or fucking up, and having each other’s backs.

It would be easy to spiral again. To drown in what’s coming, and every way I could go wrong. But Ben doesn’t waste any time, and before your brain can invite the doubt or panic knocking against your skull to be explored, he’s moving. Carrying you upstairs to your bedroom, kicking the door closed behind you, locking it without a word, and lowering you both carefully onto the stiff mattressed, itchy blanket bed that’s still comfortable, because Ben is here with you. Warm and strong under your touch, muscles flexing whenever he breathes, and the only thing you might ever really need.

Neither of you look to move, or go further. All that feels necessary right now is to have Ben. To feel to drum of his heart when you rest your head on his chest, and the soft hair of his beard when your fingers drift over his face. To smell pine and coffee and strawberries and know that he’s here. That he’s safe and solid, and nothing is going to take this instinct of Ben away from you.

You think it’s all he wants as well. His hands are moving over your body, but the only heat they leave is made of affection and care. Ben’s touch always makes you feel loved, but this makes you feel needed. Like there’s a direct line from Ben’s fingers tracing up your spine and over your hips into your nerves, and it shoots every single piece of his love right into your brain. Assures you that Ben is as natural as breathing, and he loves you, and every beat of his heart belongs to you because every turn of your head belongs to him. That, no matter what comes, you really will be safe, because there’s no other option when you’re loved like this.

It’s silent for a long while—only the sound of bird-song out the window and Ben’s breath near your ear—and you’re not sure how much time has passed when Ben’s low, rough voice sounds in your head.

You find a way to get yourself fucking killed with this, and I’ll leave you, Sunshine.

You let out a soft laugh, propping your chin on Ben’s chest to meet his attentive, wrathful, painfully in love gaze. No, you won’t.

The fuck I won’t-

You won’t. You’ll get all angry and violent and sad and kill a bunch of people about it, and then get even sadder and angrier because you’ll remember I would’ve been pissed at you for doing that, and then you’ll go cry at my grave for the third time that day. You’ll be the mean, old, handsome graveyard coke-snorter, right up until the inevitable heat death of the universe finally gets your ass.

Ben scowls, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything in his eyes is made of that bitter feeling, but under it you can still feel the glow. Shining out and rushing through your body, making everything inside you soft and restful, but still alive. More alive than you’ve ever really been before Ben, and as alive as you plan to feel for the rest of time.

Nobody’s given me any fucking coke. He grumbles in your head, and you know he’s trying to change the topic. That the bitter feeling is born from the thought of your death, no matter how impossible that is, and you’re more than willing to abandon that conversation. You’d think for a bunch of goddamn criminals, these pussies would’ve found some coke-

I bet Frenchie has some. You smile at him, kissing a gentle line over his jaw. And if you asked very, very nicely, he might share with you.

Ben grunts, and hand moving to your hair to guide your face up, hovering right over his. “When this shit is over, I’ll get that coke, and we’re doing it together.”

“I love you, Benjamin, but I am not doing cocaine-“

He cuts you off with a soft, long, easy kiss, chuckling at how fast you fall onto him. How easy it is for him to touch your right and make you fold without any struggle, and how you have no desire to fight against that.

“It won’t do a damn thing to you, Sunshine, you’ve got a higher tolerance than I do.” He presses another, almost sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, muttering against your skin. “And if it does, I’ll get to see you all fucked up again.”

You flush, dropping your face into his neck. Can we please forget that happened-

Not a damn chance. You can feel his smile as he kisses the side of your head, hear his amusement in the silence. Fucked up you was very open with me. She told me I was beautiful.

You are beautiful. You mumble into his head, tangling your fingers into his hair. So shut up.

I’m hot as fuck, darling. He chuckles, tracing patterns on your back. But you’re more beautiful. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever goddamn seen.

Ben-

You are. Don’t get all fucking modest on me-

You rise back up, holding Ben’s face between your hands and studying his face. You already have it memorized, every deep line and rugged feature and bright color, but you’ll never get tired of looking at it. Of looking at him.

I’m not modest. You kiss the tip of his nose, and Ben’s hands on your body still. I get to marry a very grumpy man who’s the most attractive cunt in the universe, and who’s willing to share his cocaine with me. Why would I be modest about that?

A low growl rumbles from Ben’s chest, and he flips you onto your back with a yelp. Caging you between the bed and his body, kissing everywhere he can reach on your face and neck and collarbone, grinning as you let out a high, needy sound and tilts you head back to grant him any access he wants.

Such a fucking brat, beautiful. He moves his knee between your legs, groaning as you start to grind against him. I love you so goddamn much, you drive me fucking insane-

“Ben.” You try to pull his face back to yours, your voice a breathless, pleading gasp. “No sex in the house-“

He crashes back up, his kiss bruising and turning your body into something molten and desperate for more. Singing just for Ben, Ben, Ben, who cares if Butcher walks in because Ben will shield you and you’re unraveling under him and you’ve never felt safer-

“You owe me a blowjob in the forest,” he mutters against you. “And I get to eat you out wherever the fuck you want-“

You gather all your will through your haze of Ben, and shake your head weakly. “Not here. Not now. But later, Ben, please, please fuck me, please-“

He pulls back, grinning down at your likely ruined and lustful expression, his love made of an awe you can see on his face and a devotion you can feel in his chest.

“Christ,” he says your name, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. “You’re confusing your fucking self. You want me to fuck you, yes or no.”

You whine, and his grin grows, even as his tone becomes stern.

“Words-“

“I,” you pause, reaching up to just touch him, and shake your head. “Not now. After.”

He nods, and catches your wrist, moving your hand to his mouth and kissing over your knuckles. Where.

Can I think about it?

Ben laughs, and drops down to kiss you in an easy, slow way that doesn’t need to be more. You’re fucking going to anyway.

You will. Later, you’ll dedicate a whole hour to figuring out where you want to see Ben’s head between your legs, and where you want to scream his name. You already have some ideas, but it will need your full attention, which is something you can’t quite spare today. Because—once Ben decides you’re fully rested, and removes his weight from over your body—you have work to do.

Your speech hadn’t been a bait for Sage, but it would function as a lure. Something for her to latch onto, and want answers for. And sure enough, when MM and Kimiko return, it’s with news that Sage had called and demanded a meeting. Just you and her, on neutral ground, with terms of no Homelander, no Ben.

“There is not a fucking chance-“

You squeeze Ben’s hand, giving him a sharp but gentle glare. “I can handle this, my love.”

“I’m not worries about you handling it,” he hisses. “Sage is a manipulative bitch, and we don’t know what the hell she wants-“

“It won’t matter what she wants.” You shrug, looking back to MM. “Find somewhere quiet, maybe in Vermont, and tell her to meet me there.”

Ben growls your name, and you ignore him.

“I’m not stupid enough to fully go alone, so I’ll drive, drop you and my very grumpy, overprotective husband off somewhere close but not obvious for backup, and pick you up after.”

Everything in Ben stumbles and bursts into a consuming, bloody glow, and you know you’ve won. The moment you called him your husband you’d felt all of Ben’s will and fight dissolve, and you’re going to have to figure out a way to actually marry him by the end of the month, because his face might be the best one you’ve ever seen, this feeling the best one you’ve ever experienced. All you ever want to experience again.

It only takes a day for MM and Sage to make arrangements. Sage keeps insisting to speak with you directly, MM keeps refusing, and eventually Sage relents with the condition that she gets to choose the location.

A little roadside diner in upstate New York, right off of a postcard and shielded from the sky by a green, overgrown forest that makes your breathing a little easier. The air is warm and a little humid from a storm that had left puddles in the parking lot and glittering drops on water on the windows, and when you park the stolen car—Ben and MM waiting at a gas station about ten minutes away and, hopefully, not killing each other—you take a long breath.

You have everything you need. You know everything you need to say. This will be hard, and then it will be over. All you have to do is move.

When you push the door of the diner open, small bell rings and the diner is mostly empty. You didn’t expected Sage to be here, you arrived an hour early in the very hope she wouldn’t be, so you sit at a corner booth that faces the door, and mostly just wait.

When Sage does arrive, she sees you immediately. A cold smile crosses her face as she drops down across from you, examining the table carefully.

“There’s no trap.” You say, keeping your voice bored and neutral. “It’s just a table.”

Sage looks up, her smile becoming snake-like.

“I’d apologize, but both you yourself and the company you keep hasn’t been known to be honorable. I’d have to be stupid to discount you putting a bomb under a public table, and I’m not stupid.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Big talk about honor, when I know the deal you made with my fucking mother.”

“I won’t apologize for taking an open opportunity-“

“Because you’re a fucking bitch.” You shrug, holding her gaze with your own, tired, flat one, tapping your fingers on the sugar shaker. “We both know you’re not sorry about any of this, and we both know that you’re a heartless cartoon supervillain, so what do you want.”

Sage’s lips curl into what might be the only real grin you’ve ever seen on her hateful face. “I really do like you,” she says your name, and you believe her. “I think, if you’d become a supe when you were a baby, we’d have been friends.”

“I like to think I’d still have a soul if that happened-“

“We all like to think things that like. But we’re just animals. Well, they’re just animals. You’re just an animal.”

You tilt your head, flagging down the waitress for two coffees. “And you’re not? You’re a god, like Homelander?”

“No.” Sage’s sounds almost amused. “Gods are still dependent on humans. To be created, maintained, remembered. I don’t care for that. What I care for is perfection. Something far better than humanity, something free of their selfish ignorance-“

“With the V.” You can’t stop your whisper as you put it together, watching Sage with a sharp, careful attention. “That’s why you want the V formula. To make more, and finish Vought’s plan with it.”

“Not Vought’s exact plan. He was caught in the primitive, pointless ideology of race supremacy. But this is about species supremacy. About human’s being ungrateful for what they’ve been given, and needing to be eradicated like the disease to the world that they are. But nobody is meant to know that yet. You…” she trails off, and her face curls into something that chills your bones. “You found the Cornucopia.”

Your silence is her answer, and she lets out a laugh that makes your skin crawl.

“I must say, you’ve managed to surprise me again. Putting that together yourself, and that video.” She shakes her head, looking you up and down. “That was one of the smarter moves you’ve made. I’m impressed.”

You hum, holding her gaze. “But?”

“But it was still reckless. I’d already planned for it, and although you said things I’d counted out, such as admitting to your affair with Soldier Boy, or to killing Firecracker, but I’ll adapt, and you’ll still lose.”

“I wouldn’t call it an affair,” you hum, frowning at the sugar shaker. “I’d call it falling in love.”

Sage makes a sound of amusement. “Love isn’t permanent. As I’ve tried to tell you, Soldier Boy will be a violent, angry man for the rest of his life. You’re the most powerful supe alive. You have the public in the palm of your hand, and you could spend all eternity making something perfect. You could go play house,” she gives the ring on your finger a pointed look. “With Solider Boy and the son of your rapist, or you could see what you can really do. Create a world without pain, create a world with only pain, fix human’s messes for the rest of time or finally give up on them. I could cleanse you of your little pestilence of a team, hiding like roaches in Maine, and you could fight Homelander one on one. Give him the gruesome death we both know he more than deserves. You could even keep Soldier Boy as a pet, and still be-“

“If you say interesting.” You drawl. “I’ll punch you again. And Ben isn’t my pet, and Ryan isn’t just Homelander’s son.” You lean over the table, narrowing your eyes. “They’re my family. All of them. I don’t really want to see what I can do, Sage. I think I just want this to be done.”

“You truly do believe your love for Soldier Boy is an exception, don’t you. That it’s not just a temporary chemical reaction, that can be manufactured just as easily as a spoon, or diaper?”

You sit a little taller in your seat, staring down the obvious disgust on Sage’s face. “I think that you were right. That by all logical sense, I shouldn’t have ever loved Ben. But I do. And I will, long after this over. So speak very carefully when you talk about him, because I’m very forgiving of things you say about me,” you drop your voice to a hiss, letting a little bit of fire light up in your eyes. “But I will not be forgiving of things you say about him.”

“And that’s the thing, isn’t it.” Sage looks you up and down, and her voice almost sounds disappointed. “In the end you’re still too human. Too emotional. A worthy opponent, but still just a little too weak.”

Love hasn’t made you weak. If anything, love might be the only thing you’re certain makes you strong. Pulls you apart before putting you back together, just a little better and sturdier than you’d been before.

So you don’t break. You take your coffee from the waitress, and look back to Sage with your best, innocently curious expression.

“Can I ask you a question?”

If Sage is surprised by your pivot, she doesn’t show it, only nodding for you to continue.

“How smart do you think you’d have been?” You watch her carefully, leaning back as you add sugar to your mug. “If they hadn’t given you the V?”

Sage only shrugs, taking the sugar as you set it back onto the table. “That doesn’t matter, because we can trade hypotheticals all day, but in the end, I am smarter. Better. In the end, I’ll win. I’ll work out how to get rid of you when you become more of an annoyance than interesting, and you be dirt in the ground with your precious Soldier Boy. Just as love says you should be.”

“Or,” you watch as Sage pours the sugar into her cup, and look up at her with a wide smile. “I could marry him. And like an impossibly long, incredibly interesting life with someone who I love. I’d never be bored, but I would be happy.” You pause, looking Sage over with your best gentle concern. “Are you happy?”

Sage almost scoffs. “I am not concerned about happiness-“

“You should be.” You shrug, stirring a small spoon in your mug. “I’m happy. There are long, horrible moments where I’m afraid and in pain, but then I’m happy again. And I wasn’t ever sure I’d get that. A life where I get love someone like this, and they love me back, and, I mean, have you seen the Princess Bride?”

Sage’s mouth tics, and you know she’s noticed you’re running the conversation. “I don’t watch many movies. They’re pointless, and I have more important issues-“

“It’s a great movie. It was put into failed production several times before 1987, but the key was you couldn’t take it too seriously. It’s a love story, but it’s also an outright ridiculous drama-“

You’re cut off as Sage sneers your name, but you don’t drop your easy, blissful smile. “I know we both enjoy speaking, but I do have a company to get back to. Work to do. So if we could move on to discussing your video-“

“Just one second.” You keep your voice sweet and dreamy as you continue to ramble. “I got Ben to watch the Princess Bride. I think he might have already seen it, because he wasn’t paying attention, but he never pays attention. He mostly just stares at me and tries to pretend he doesn’t have a boner. I love him so much.”

Sage snaps your name, you ignore her, and she dumps half the canister of sugar into her mug.

“See, he thinks the whole pirate thing is cool. He told me that he’d make the best fucking pirate, and come right back to me. There wasn’t a damn reason to stay away for five fucking years.And I’ve told him that I agree. He’s fast and skilled enough to win the duel, and strong enough to beat the giant, and he already has the drug tolerance for iocane powder. He has the drug tolerance for most anything. There are actually only two things he can’t tolerate. Your gas, and my empathy suppressant. Nobody can tolerate my empathy suppressant except for me. Frenchie said it makes brains leak out of ears.”

Sage hums, looking vaguely interested. “An empathy suppressant? Does it severe the limbic system-“

“Bombs it. Entirely.”

“Which you would obviously survive.” She muses, taking a long, slow sip of her coffee. “But I would likely survive as well, given my targeted healing factor.”

“Maybe.” You prop your elbows on the table, your bright smile dropping to a crude grin. “Let’s find out.”

You see the moment it hits her. Just a second after the words leave your mouth, her eyes widen and she starts to cough. To try and push the coffee out of her system, her entire face covered in hatred and angry and fear—real, primal fear like a deer in headlights or a child who’s had a nightmare—and then nothing at all.

Frenchie had been right. It was instant, and something red was leaking out of Sage’s ears as she slumped forward, onto the table.

It hadn’t been fool-proof, your plan. You’d made Ben crushed up the suppressant with a knife—he was good at that, and you liked watching his arms flex as he worked—and filled up one of Edgar’s saltshakers. Swapped it onto the table, and prayed that Sage wouldn’t think you were that stupid. That if she thought you were going to kill her, that’s you’d be more calculated and careful about it. That she didn’t believe you’d do something so obvious and blatant, that you’d want more information out of her, that this whole thing was a genuine meeting and not an assassination.

Her brain shouldn’t regenerate, there’s none of it left, but you’re not going to take any risks. You drag Sage out of the booth—ignoring the silent, petrified attention of every other person in the diner and taking the sugar dispenser with you—and into the parking lot, finding a spot with no cars, no grass, and no wood before dropped her onto the pavement. You spare the sugar dispenser, and the suppressant inside it, only one look before they’re tossed onto Sage’s body, and you send both up into flames.

You can still feel Ben. You won’t be able to soon, you’d drank the suppressant as well, but you can know. He’s silently furious and made of a zealous, focused care that’s been bouncing around your chest since you’d separated.

I’m done. You mutter down your line, letting the flames move to your feet, letting people crowd at the windows and only focusing on how there is one less thing to be afraid of, and how Ben flashes through your blood as you speak. I’ll be there soon.

Did you-

She’s dead.

Good. Ben’s voice grunts in your head, and you can almost feel him. Over the smoke you can smell pine, and feel something warm that isn’t born from you, but still a part of you. Fucking bitch.

You let out a small, easy laugh. She was, wasn’t she.

Damn right she was. There’s a pause, and then, I love you. I really fucking love you, and I am ready for this to be fucking over. We’re going to kill Homelander, and never hear the word Vought again. Deal?

You probably look insane. You’re standing over Sage’s twisted and brunt corpse and letting the flames climb back over your body, sink back into your skin, and turn your clothing to scorched ash as you smile. A wide smile that covers your whole face as you live only inside your body, with Ben. In all his love, and how certain he sounds that, by next week, Homelander will only be a body with empty, cold eyes and you will live a long, happy, perfect life with Ben.

Deal.

End Note: Sage your funeral will be the most pathetic one in history mark my words. Also someone let Ben yell about getting married he's gonna lose it.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox @criminalyetminimal @solsborg

@generalmoonpolice @ifyouwerethemoon @leavli @imsiriuslyreal @ambientcryptidsounds

@ej13928

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planetpedri · 3 days ago

Note

Could I please request Pedri with reader who is the daughter of Xavi (Hernandez) and then lots of fluff and this prompt "I bought you flowers"? Thank you!💖

Orange-colored day — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Throughout your father’s time coaching FC Barcelona, you and Pedri had a.. weird relationship. You flirted, hung out all the time, and occasionally came close to crossing the line that differentiated friends from lovers. But, despite all that, it never went further.. Until now! Because he was outside of your house with flowers in his hand.

Word count: 590+

Disclaimer/s: angst but only if you squint + fluff !

A/N: Happy birthday to the only man ever!! Pedri. Trust. I will have u.

Pedri swayed back and forth on his feet, nerves bundling in his throat as he lifted his hand to knock on your door. It’d been months since he last saw you. After Xavi got sacked, he hadn’t heard from you. Not that it was on bad terms, you’d just started your third year in Uni and he was busy with the Euro’s. It didn’t help that your dad was leaving Barça under such circumstances…

The soft click that signaled you unlocking the door caused every nerve inside of Pedri, to spike. He gripped the bouquet harder, finding it hard to breathe.

It was even harder to breathe when he saw you. Your hair was in a loose ponytail and you were wearing joggers and a tank top—your homework outfit. He’d seen you wear it a multitude of times during your late night hangouts.

“Pedro?” You drawl out his name, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “What are you doing.. here?” Your eyes flicker down to the flowers in his hand, grinning at the jellycat bunny stuffed animal.

“I bought you flowers.” It came out as a question, which had a deep flush spreading across Pedri’s already reddened cheeks.

You chuckle, “I can see that. My question was, what are you doing.. here? At my house.”

Pedri was the one that stopped your situation in the first place. He said, ‘Your dad is my coach and it’s unprofessional.’ As if him staying at your house nights on end because he could only sleep through the night if he was near you, wasn’t already unprofessional.

As if his lips wouldn’t linger above yours fighting tooth and nail with his brain not to just kiss you, wasn’t unprofessional. You could go on, but Pedri was finally finding his words.

“I just—I thought that with your dad gone and i’m a little less busy now, and with that free time all I could think about was you—that maybe it was time I tried to fix things?” He speaks hastily, trying not to move his hands so he wouldn’t ruin the bouquet.

Your lips push out into a frown. “It’s golden hour.”

Pedri’s eyebrows scrunch together, lines creasing his forehead. “What?”

“It’s golden hour. Your eyes look really pretty during golden hour.” You explain softly. “It brings out the orange in them.”

The mans lips twitch. “Uhm, thanks? Do you want the flowers or..”

You gasp, reaching out to take the bouquet from his hands gratefully. “Yes! Sorry, distracted. Come in? I’m supposed to be—“

“Doing homework?”

“—doing-oh. Well, yes. But, I also was about to order dinner if you are hungry?” You lean against the doorframe, smiling up at the man whom you adored so deeply.

Pedri smiles, “yes, please.”

Stepping to the side, you make enough room for him to walk inside. “My dad asked about you the other day, he thinks we had a ‘falling out.’” You use air quotation marks as you walk inside and in the direction of your room with Pedri right behind you.

“That would be mostly my fault.” He laughs ashamedly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! I was busy too. What matters now, is that you’re here.” You glance back at him with a warm look, “you pick whats for dinner, i’ll hurry and finish my homework?”

Pedri nods in agreement, walking through your bedroom door, slipping his shoes off, and plopping down on your bed. “Sounds good to me.” Sliding back onto your desk chair, you open your laptop and get to work with a smile so big it hurt your face.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

#pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez x y/n #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic #pedri

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luveline · 55 minutes ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore.

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest.

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club.

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in.

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can.

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him.

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you.

And now it’s over.

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk.

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“What happened?”

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?”

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again.

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage.

The fifth time, you answer.

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks.

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?”

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.”

“I don’t want to be with you.”

“Have I upset you?”

“Would that make it easier?”

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.”

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.”

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.”

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.”

“I’m on my way.”

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment.

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day?

Now he’s thinking, What did I do?

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks.

“Come in, Aaron.”

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom.

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit down?”

You gesture for him to do as he likes.

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly.

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.”

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone.

“What’s making you feel that way?”

“Does it matter?”

Again, avoiding and evasive.

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree.

“No?” he asks.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.”

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?”

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.”

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?”

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead.

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow.

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.”

“Then what’s making you feel this way?”

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze.

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?”

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?”

“What do you think?”

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.”

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.”

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly.

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.”

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.”

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.”

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago.

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.”

“I don’t know who I am…”

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles.

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.”

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.”

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.”

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.”

You share a look.

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble.

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.”

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath.

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly.

Your breath warms his arm. “No.”

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.”

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath.

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.”

“You like making girls cry.”

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…”

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.”

“All my fault.”

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.”

“Stop making me feel guilty.”

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.”

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.”

“I know. Just step on me a bit.”

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…”

“Just rough me up a little.”

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.”

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching.

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh.

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.”

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.”

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.”

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.”

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely.

“Sorry,” you say.

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.”

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden.

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you.

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.”

“I’m not that young,” you say.

“So you admit it?”

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar.

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off.

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate.

You press a hand down your side.

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl.

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said.

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite.

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?”

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.”

“That’s accusatory in nature.”

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom.

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling.

“Home only,” he says.

“I knew you’d say that.”

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil.

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.”

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.”

“I said too slutty.”

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…”

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.”

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause.

“Spin?” he asks.

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles.

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.”

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“This one was for you.”

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.”

“This is the last one.”

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion.

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you.

You ease the pillow down his face.

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask.

“Not purposefully.”

“You look a little… hot.”

“That makes two of us.”

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face.

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest.

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard.

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady.

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply.

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron?

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you.

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.”

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest.

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about.

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful.

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.”

You knew he’d like the white babydoll.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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katiascraft · 1 day ago

Text

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ "Maybe i should've told you i miss you. But i don't know if you feel the same" | OP81 ✧₊⁺

parings: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: your insecurities lead to lose the love of your life, but destiny always play its worst (or best) cards for you. in the aftermath of it all, two souls become one (again). or that's what you'd like.

inspired by: gracie abrams music ⤦

⟢ ‘almost said I miss you’ EP: tracklist

➥ track 1 - mean it

➥ track 2 - stay

➥ track 3- I miss you, I’m sorry

word count: 6k.

warnings: angst. and a little fluff. mentions of insecurieties, trauma and depression. not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) erros. not proofread.

MASTERLIST

「 ✦ The ticking clock ✦ 」

You took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking and your stress levels were at their peak.

“You are always picking fights, y/n. I'm tired, "Oscar said, clearly annoyed. Is not that you always fought or had a toxic relationship, no. but lately, things got harder between you two. Stupid fights now and then. Dead silence that creeps you out everytime. Coldness was the new dynamic you had going on. And it hurts.

Everyday hurts lately.

“Oscar, I'm not always picking fights. For fucks sake, just wanted to know why you are so cold all the time to me!” you didn't want to raise your tone but desperation never took the best out of you. He was shocked, his head disapproving. Probably done with all of this. Done with you. You didn't want to admit it but maybe it was true.

“I'm not being cold to you, y/n. I already explained it to you: I'm tired. My job it's complicated enough to come home to be even more complicated. Just stop” he said leaving the kitchen, leaving you behind hanging in your words. That made you so you followed him down to the living room.

“Oscar, don't leave me talking alone, please! Why do you always have to run away? I have feelings actually you know? I would love to express them to my lover so we can have a proper conversation, what do you think about that?”

“y/n, bullshit. Don't act like I'm a monster who doesn't listen to you. If i didnt we wouldn't have this argument. Stop playing the victim for once. You don't hear me out either anyway” he gritted his teeth trying not to follow you down with your anger. He didn't want to raise his voice towards you.

“Playing victim? You're an impossible oscar. I only asked you a fucking question, what did i do wrong for you to ignore me and act so cold? And you said you're just tired and that's bullshit” you were so angry by now. Offended. Hurt by his words. Hurt by the fact you were happy once and now everything is falling apart. You never hurt this deep before.

“It's not!” he couldn't anymore with all of this. He didn't want to raise his voice but you made him feel exasperated. “You see? You don't trust me! Im telling you im just tired and you say its bullshit and then you play the victim card that i dont listen to you and im a fucking monster? I see how things go now. I'm done” he didn't even want to look at you. He just sat on the sofa looking at the floor. But you heard what he said under his breath. What you were most scared of what’s happening.

You started crying out of desperation, anxious that all of this was gonna end right there and then. You just left him there and went back to the kitchen as if that way he wouldn't see nor hear you crying. You just couldn't keep talking or being around him. Your heart was sinking.

He sighed frustrated and stood up sprinting to his studio and banging the door. You gasped hearing the door closing so violently. No that he noticed what he said. Nor that he cared you thought he didnt care you anymore, that was for sure.

(...)

You haven't talked to Oscar since yesterday. He didn't sleep at your shared apartment. He said he didn't want to see you. That hurt a lot. Your heart was already broken. You didn't know what to do anymore. You've been on this rabbit hole for several months. You didn't understand what broke between you or when it was. You felt confused, lonely and scared. What would your whole life be without him? Once, you only wrote love songs because what you felt for him was beyond what your body could handle so you needed to take it out. Now, you didn't write anything for months. You felt too much sadness, it felt like you didn't feel anything at all. Just emptiness.

You were playing with your food, not really that hungry that you thought you would be. Another night alone without him. Would life be like this when he gets rid of me? I don't wanna leave.

The doorbell rang. You frowned, not sure who it could be knowing it was almost 10pm and I couldn't sleep (just as yesterday and every time you had an argument with him). You looked through the little visor of the door seeing your boyfriend was back home. But telling from the look on his face, things wouldn't be better anyway. You opened the door after taking a deep breath not sure if you would survive another fight.

You two just looked at each other for a few seconds. Probably analyzing how you were feeling now that 2 days have passed by. Neither of you smiled. Not that you had the energy or a reason to anymore. You moved from the door so he could get into the apartment and closed the door once he was in.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked quietly. You swallowed hard not knowing what to say by this point.

“I can't sleep since you are gone, so. No, you didn't” you didn't want to sound cold, especially after you fought because he was acting like that with you,but you felt like shit and didnt have energy to pretend you were okay with it all. You felt miserable. He nodded without saying a word and looked at the floor for a moment.

After a moment of really uncomfortable silence you broke it with something you didn't even think would slip out your mouth “are you seeing someone else, oscar?” your words cut through him as if they were sharp glass pieces just thrown directly at him.

“What?” He was surprised and hurt that you thought about him like that. You shrug.

“I mean, it's not that you don't kiss me anymore, so.and i think you're not tired because of your job, i think you're just bored of me, tired of me, done with me” you sat on the kitchen table again. He followed you there but stayed standard. He was confused and hurt now.

“When did I ever say that to you?” he was tired of all of this, for sure. But he wanted to make things work with you. He just didn't know how to. It was hard for him to understand you, but he was trying. He finally sat in front of you staring at your plate. It was full, you kept playing with your doodles, pretending to eat like you used to. He felt so guilty for all of this. He knew at that moment. That he broke you. He didn't know how or when but he did. His face softened in sadness.

“You said it. You said you were done and you know what? I get it. I mean, it's not as if I am easy to love. I know I'm complicated and a pain in the ass for everyone so I wouldn't be surprised if you found someone else that makes you happy for real and you don't wanna tell me out of pity. I'm ready to hear it though. Just say it” your voice was empty and plain no emotion detected just numbness. He didn't want to think it was too late. It Has been a long time since he has seen you like this. At that time it wasn't him who made you feel like it.

“I didn't mean to say it, y/N. I Was tired because of work and fighting with you. I don't like fighting with you. I wanna make things right, please. I wouldn't ever do that to you, you know it” he explained desperate for a moment. He wanted you to believe him. But your face didn't say anything. He couldn't read you and made him scared. You looked unbothered, way far gone now.

You shook your head “i know you mean it and i know you are tired, but i don't think you really want to be with me anymore” your sincerity cut like a knife in both of you. Like, you over thought a lot about it but it still hurt. He was lost and didn't know what was going on anymore or was going through all of that. “You didn't deny it either” you continued.

“I'm not with anyone else, y/N, please” he cut you off with his deep voice, kind of cracky now.

(...)

You just didn't know how you ended up moaning his name once more. His mouth is in your centre. His hands are grabbing your tights. Your fingers on his hair.

How easy is it, right? To love someone. One moment, you destroy them.. Then, you fix them with makeup sex. Making them see the stars so they forget how shitty things are. So that pleasure it's more important than gentle affection. Always pretending to be sane then doing insane shit like this as if memory didn't exist when it came to you and him. As if feeling him inside you was the only thing that could fix your mind. That it was the only way to communicate properly. As if it was your love language, then ignore each other.

His hands of your body grabbing you as if you were about to break and he was trying to keep all of your pieces together. As if he could save you or your relationship that was already 10 feet down buried. He would like to think sex could fix it. That it was the best way to communicate if then you didn't trust him. He was hurt and you didn't trust him. You were hurt because he didn't love you anymore. Unfortunately, your minds couldn't agree. You were the love of his life, he wanted to help and make you trust him. But you just didn't, you already convinced yourself he didn't love you anymore and that everyone was better than you. He wanted a team when you just wanted to run away from him. Or from yourself?

「 ✦ Destruction ✦ 」

“I'm done with you for real, y/n! Everytime an important day comes for me, you just like to ruin it!” He was mad as hell. Fed up with all your bullshit.

“You really think I do it on purpose? oscar! “ He left the room so you started following him around your shared apartment. “I wouldn't if you didn't ignore like you always do! I don't know what to do anymore! Nothing seems enough for you!” you started crying out. Your heart couldn't take it anymore and this time it felt different. So much different than any time before.

“Why is it always my fault? Why am I always the one doing something wrong? The only thing you do is complain about me and then you just want me to kiss you?! You are insane!” His words cut you deep, so deep you thought they cut you in half and you were nothing anymore. You couldn't breathe for a moment. He called you insane just the way your parents made you feel your whole life. Maybe they were right after all. You deserved all of those years in a psychiatric hospital. You deserved even when he

was the first one to say your parents were monsters and you were more than okay. More than normal. More than lovable. How ironic, right?You wanted to laugh but couldn't. You just couldn't move.

Oscar realised what he said. He knew when he saw you. He felt terrible at that moment.

“Look, y/n i-” you cut him not wanting to listen to him anymore.

“Dont talk” you said shaky under your breath. You had to sit down on the sofa because you felt you were about to faint. In shock - a lot of moments of your relationship replayed in your head. How could someone who said he loved you more than anything and anyone, end up thinking just as your parents? It was your fault. Of course it was. How could you ever think someone would love you? You were miserable. How can someone love a miserable person?

Oscar started breathing heavily and he had to sit on the floor trying to calm down. He is always so collected and rational, these kinds of feelings he had never experienced, not even with his ex.

“We can't be together Oscar, I make you miserable. And you're right. I'm insane, how could someone love me right? No one wants to deal with my bullshit, not even myself” you said quietly. His throat closed for a moment. He remained in silence for a few seconds processing your words. You didn't look at each other, you couldn't. Guess this was it. How sad, right? Oscar started crying realizing what was about to come.

“I promise y/N, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it that way. You aren't hard to love, actually the opposite. But yeah, i don't think this is working for us anymore whether i like it or not” he said wiping his tears away of his face as he could.

You nodded even though you didn't hear a word he said. It was over. Your life is over.

「 ✦ time heals it all, right? ✦ 」

It's been exactly 8 months and 25 days since you and Oscar were not together anymore. Yes, you had a countdown. You created it to see how far you’ll survive because you didn't believe you would last this much. You thought your life was over and for a few weeks it was. You didn't get out of bed. The break up depression, i guess. Your friends suggested you go back to therapy because they were really worried about you and your mental health. They knew how much Oscar meant to you: he was your everything. And to be honest, that was your first mistake going into the relationship with him.

You shouldn't have made him your everything because you were nothing suddenly when you left. You didn't know who you were without him, what you liked or what you would like to be. All of your future plans had him in them. There wasn't a future without him. He was everywhere in your life. You shaped your destiny around him. You wanted to get married and have kids with him. And you never wanted to be a mother but he had changed that until he was gone.

You couldn't go back to dating. You tried but failed every time. You were a little too afraid to get hurt again. You had to work through your insecurities and traumas first. There was a lot of your history that needed to be let go. You needed to go through really ugly times in your past to find some perspective. Forgive yourself, putting yourself first, understanding yourself. You just worked on knowing you and becoming the person you always wanted.

And you grew and changed so much. You felt proud of yourself. You started writing again. Creating was the best way to mourn your relationship with Oscar alongside your old self that left him. To mourn that part of you that is gone forever. Creating was what kept you sane all this time. What brought you back to life. You wrote so many songs about him. Blaming you, blaming him. Blaming the universe for not putting it easier on you.

So music, once again, saved your life.

Oscar’s life changed drastically. Not only by the fact he didn't have you anymore on the paddock to cheer him on, but also he didn't have you in his apartment to share his life with. He missed you everyday he woke up to an empty bed. Mourning what you had changed him forever. He blamed himself for not knowing how to get to you, how to understand you and be able to help you through it. So he started reading about psychology to learn how to understand people better. He wanted to improve his emotional intelligence. He knew that maybe you wouldn't be there anymore, probably forever, but at least he could be better to the people around him.

He didn't date anyone. His way of mourning was trying not to think about it occupying his space and time with work and training and racing and reading. He couldn't do anything else.

He always found himself not being able to think, wondering where you were and especially how you were. After that night, you went to cero contact. And he knew it was the best, but he couldn't get you out of his head yet. He felt guilty knowing that he can understand your needs better when it's a little too late. He just wished to press rewind and do it again but the right way this time. He knew it was impossible and that dug a hole in his heart. He knew that it would be there forever. You were the love of his life. He really thought he couldn't love anyone that way, ever again. You were a force of nature for him. Blowing him away every single time.

You never went back to races. He knew how much you adored the sport and how in another life you would have loved to be an engineer. You dreamed of one day to see a woman on the podium. You actually sponsored two girls from F1 Academy. The boys didn't see you again either. Actually he knew you did see lando a few times because you two became really close during your relationship, but lando always lied and told him that he didn't see you. He knew Lando was trying to be a good friend. He even tried to introduce Oscar to some girls but it never worked. He tried though. But he found himself thinking that he was kissing it was you. It was heartbreaking to see. He was kind of stuck on you.

So he decided he would take his time to grow and figure out who he was by himself. Find comfort in his own company. Doing dates by himself. He found it cringe to call it that way but his therapist insisted on calling it that way so he could deprogram himself from you and anything and everything related to you.

He was proud of himself though. He was doing alright again, actually enjoying his job, his friends, and his own company. He even won races, he did podiums and everything he dreamed of. But still, he hoped you didn't feel like you needed to leave to let him shine. He wished you were there every time to hug you and shower you in champagne.

He really missed you in his life.

「 ✦ Too far gone, don’t know where we started ✦ 」

So here you were more than a year later at the Azerbaijan GP 2024. The Mercedes team invited you as a star guest so you came with your friend because alone you would have died. Actually, before coming to the paddock you had an anxiety attack and if it wasn't for your friend who made sure you felt safe and okay to go, you would’ve been on a plane back home. It was the first time since you broke up with Oscar you felt okay enough to be able to go through it. You were invited by different teams at least 15 times now. But you always lied and said you couldn't make it. You just needed to stay at home or the studio writing as far as possible from oscar and anything related to him. But you went through all of that with your therapist and she said that if you liked the sport and you really enjoyed races or anything related to it, you shouldn't let Oscar or the thought of him or what happened, deprive you of it.

It was sunday, you preferred not to come on friday or saturday just because there were more possibilities you would bump into him. And you just weren't ready to see him. The race was insane so far. Actually, Oscar was doing more than okay. Your heart was pounding, you could hear it loud and clear. Your best friend held your hand all the time in that garage so you don't forget she’s there for you. And that you’re okay. You knew you shouldn't be afraid of him because he was an angel. But you were scared of yourself and how would you handle that situation. You came to terms that actually, everything that happened between him and you, it was that your insecurities just made everything so toxic that he couldn't handle it all. It didn't feel good when you realised that but it is what it is. You didn't know better and forgiving yourself for that was the hardest part of the process.

You squeezed your best friend's hand, it was the last lap. Your heart is almost out of your body. You are wearing an old Oscar hoodie. You really liked it, plus you came here looking like shit in your opinion. You didn't even brush your hair nor that you needed it like before, now your hair is super short. Everyone in the garage was watching closely and before you could actually process what you ‘ve just seen. Your friends shouted “omg” in unison not believing what they saw.

Destiny had its twisted ways to be honest. Osca won the race. he won. You were just shocked.

You were here and he won, like, what are the chances of that to happen actually? First race you’re back and he wins. and in that way. Your friends hugged you.

“Holy shit that 's really insane shit” Nikola said, watching the screens at the garage.

“We need to go guys, i don't wanna see him, please” you didn't know why you started to panic like that. Sonny looked at Nikola and just got you out of there.

At the Mercedes hospitality you felt safe while the celebrations were held. There was no reason or chance Oscar walked into the Mercedes building, right? You were drinking some coffee with you girls trying to focus on the conversation about any other driver but Oscar, just around strategy and stuff. You were trying really hard but you couldn't stop thinking about the fact that maybe he could come into you any time. Now that you see destiny hates you.

“y/N, you okay bestie?”Sonny tried to get you out of your drawing though by touching your arm so she could catch your attention back to reality.

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking,” you said, adjusting yourself on the chair. Nikola looked worried.

“y/n, we can go if you need to. We don't want you to feel uncomfortable, okay? Just tell us” she said, comprehensively describing the situation and her friend's feelings. You licked your dry lips.

Before you could answer her someone interrupted you.

“y/, is it you?” that. Fucking. Voice. Your friends’ eyes widen as surprised as you were. You turned to the voice to find, in fact, your ex boyfriend watching you so confused. You were speechless for a moment. He looked so pretty and sweaty. His eyes are shining brighter than ever you have seen.

“Oh, hi oscar. Yeah, it’s me” you tried to play it cool but to be fair, you felt the butterflies on your stomach just like the first time you met him at that birthday party you didn't want to go to. But luckilyyou did. Destiny is always playing dirty for you. Or geniously. You didn't know anymore. He smiled widely.

“Oh, wow, hi, yeah. I didn't know you were coming” he said nervously. Your friends looked at each other noticing.

“I was invited by George, actually. I almost didn't come tho. How crazy, you win right? You did an amazing race. "You were surprised that you could even have a proper conversation with him while your heart was hurting out of anxiety, nervousness and butterflies were everywhere.

Oscar Felt his chest tighter. His stomach was happy to see you, he knew. “Thank you,” he said sweetly. You looked so pretty under the light of the Mercedes building. You were his hoodie, your favorite, but he didn't know if it was appropriate to mention it. Your hair was so short and looked so beautiful on you. It actually made you look prettier. Your face was the face of an angel, he always thought that. But with that haircut it only intensified your perfection. He felt stupid. Just like the first time he saw you at that party he wasn't even invited directly. Destiny always played on his favour with you, until that night. He didn't even want to remember it. You looked so different yet you felt the same. Your perfume was the same, he knew. It’s the one he gifted you on your 6 month anniversary. You used to celebrate each month.

An awkward silence makes its presence between you two, not knowing what else to say or comment.

“Congrats oscar on the win” sonny tried to save you from misery right there capturing oscar’s attention. He smiled gently, thanking her and nikola. He recognized them and gave them a hug. He seemed happy to see them. You smiled remembering your nights playing uno and drinking wine and baking canela rolls when winter break came around. You Missed him more than you’ve ever thought you would. And something inside you just felt exactly the same you always felt with him. He altered the chemistry in your brain so easily it was kind of scary.

“Hey osc! Zac wants to talk to you! What are you doing here?” Lando Norris came into the building as well. He was your friend. when he saw who Oscar was, he grinned. “Hey, bestie, whatchu doing here?” he said happily, giving you a comforting hug. He was genuinely surprised because you didn't even tell you. He suspected Oscar was here because George told him you were here. He can't keep secrets. And he knew it was George because he was sure Lewis didn't even know you.

“George invited us,” you explained after he stepped back.

“Okay let's go, great to see you girl. Hope to see you around more often "Oscar said while looking directly at you in the last sentence to then disappear dragging Lando out of the hospitality. Your friends looked at you and you looked at them.

“I need a whole vodka bottle down my throat right now” you sentence, making them laugh. But you didn't. You felt scared of what you felt a few moments ago.

(...)

New year is here. You were invited along with your friends by lando to his beginning of the year party here in Monaco. And oh you knew Oscar was gonna be there. Of course, he is one of his closest friends also.

This time you felt more calm and collected around the fact you were going to see him again. I think being drunk was the thing you were thanked for. If something felt rare,you would drink straight vodka or tequila and the problem was solved. You didn’t even have to think about it.

Your friend helped choose the sexiest dress for you. It was a satin white little dress with broderie endings. Pretty subtle but at the same time suggesting. Just how you were. Angel face, dirty minded. Problem was you couldn't date people because of the Oscars. Because since you saw him those seconds in Azerbaijan, you couldn't stop seeing his shiny eyes and beautiful smile every time you close your eyes. You didn't interact all of this time, you didn't even follow each other on social media.

Mystery drove you I guess. And who could blame you? It was Oscar Piastri, the one you had to forget. But I just couldn't. You missed his touch, his breath, his voice, his lips.

Your friend took you out of your thoughts telling you they needed to go to the bathroom. You Followed them around the party up to the toilets. They got in but you decided to wait outside because the music was just so good you wanted to enjoy it. You always wished you could write a party song but it isn't your thing at all. Nor you didn't have the personality for it. You were too deep of a person. You needed to cut deep. Be someone to suffer along with. Or at least that’s how you perceive yourself as an artist.

“y/N?” not that voice again. That damn voice. Though this time you were waiting for it. You looked up to find a drunk Oscar in front of you. You were breathless for a moment. How can a man become so much hotter in just a year? You smiled at him feeling your strawberry lip gloss.

“Hoy, osc. What’s up?” you said easily. The alcohol made it easier actually. When he smiled you almost died. You Adored his smile since that party you didn't even want to go to. You thought you fell in love with him just right there. Just right here…?

“I was looking for Danny, have you seen him?” he said normally, ignoring his heart, almost skipping a beat when he saw you in that short white dress. He hoped not to be drooling in your face. Since he saw you again, he couldn't get you out of his head. You were everyday hunting him. He wanted to text you but he wasn't sure if he should. You seem so happy now, he didn't want to ruin it. He convinced himself that probably the best for you was staying away from him as much as possible. At the end of the day, he was the reason you hurt, right? Or he wanted to believe that.

For a moment you watched his lips talking to you. His drunk voice always turned you on. But you couldn't show it. Not anymore. You looked back at his eyes. Half smile on your face while shaking your head “no, i didn't. Iwas waiting for my friends that are in the bathroom” you explained and he nodded.

“Well, I'll keep looking then. See you around” he told you to go back into the crowd to look for his friends. Hesaw the way you looked at his lips. He had to be the stronger one. It was better this way. As much as he wanted to eat you out right there and then.

He hurt you. He didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. He made sure to protect you from himself. Even though all he wanted was to be with you.

「 ✦ the (your) truth is out ✦ 」

yourusername made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, user456, landonorris and 1,543,678 others

yourusername: i'm so excited to finally tell you our biggest secret! my new ep 'almost said i miss you' will be out february 14 <3 (trying to resignificate the date lol) these songs are really important to me and i can't wait till they finally become yours. thank u to the bestest bestie in the worl for guiding me and helping me through it all, it wouldn't have been possible without you. and you guys for the support, you don't know how much you mean to me :,) thank you for listening to my music since day one. i feel so lucky! see you in a few weeks :D

tagged: sabrinacarpenter, y/nhq

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sabrinacarpenter: so proud of you baby, my fav artist forever. just keep smiling! it's so beautiful to see you happy <3

nikolabff: we are so proud of you gorgeous! the prettiest songs I’ve ever heard 🥹

sonnybff: girl you always serve, thank you for sharing your art to the world I admire you like crazy. So proud of you baby, I love you <3

user489: 'trying to resignificate the date' WHY AM I SOBBING AT WORK

User99: THE TRACKLIST 😭😭😭😭😭

↳ user87: “I miss you, I’m sorry” I CHOKED

user45: it hurt

user12: so excited

landonorris: can`t wait for the world to cry their eyes out just like i did when i heard them :( (it still hurt and I cry before falling asleep)

↳ nikolabff: bro same 😭😭😭

↳ maxverstappen: babygirl

↳ landonorris: get outta here 😡

georgerussel: I know who will cry listening to this

↳ danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri

↳ landonorris: @/oscarpiastri

↳ sonnybff: guys knock it the fuck off

hattiepiastri: so prod of you girl! Can’t wait to listen to it!

↳ user67: NOT HIS SISTER OMG

↳ user08: I don’t wanna be delusional but girl you

don’t help

↳ user134: they NEED to get back together I don’t

wanna suffer anymore I know Hattie

wants it too 😭

user1: I’m not alright knowing these are for oscar tbh IM DEAD and I haven’t even listened to them yet

taylorswift: and artist of the year goes to…

olivirodrigo: my day to day inspiration

user975: I love girls supporting girls

user56: @/f1gossipofficial is there something about this you’d like to share????

「 ✦ The aftermath - february 14 ✦ 」

Oscar was back to the UK training for the beginning of the new season. It was the coldest winter he experienced. He got back home from mclaren hq. He took a hot shower to warm himself. His apartment was silent. It felt empty for the first time. Like something was missing. He went straight into bed. He wasn't that hungry anyway, but he was tired indeed.

“Hey, listen to it. I think you need to”

He saw his sister Hattie's notification pop up on his screen confusing him abit. He went into the messages app and opened his sister’s. When he did he understood what she was talking about. A knot on this throat formed. It was y/n ep. Guess he now understood taylor swift’s exes. It’s hard to date a musician ust because of the aftermath of the relationship.

“Just do it. You will understand why once you did”

Another message popped up on this screen and sighed heavily. Probably his sister was right but at the same time he was scaredas fuck. He opened it on spotify, she looked as pretty as ever on the cover of it. ‘Almost said I miss you’ - that was the title and only had 3 songs. By the names of them he suspected it was about him but he tried to believe they weren't even though his sister already told him that they were. He decided to listen to it in order.

He took his headphones from his nightstand so he could hear your voice clearly. All over his head. Cutting deep into his fiber.

The first piano tiles started playing and his heart was already sinking. Hearing her voice so raw and close and clear sent shivers down his spine. He heard every single word you said. It described perfectly that horrible and forgettable night you broke up. Hearing your voice crack broke his heart into a million pieces. It wasn't even half of the song when he started crying. He knew what he said under his breath that sent you both straight into hell. He felt so guilty about everything. He really just wished to talk to you.

When he started to hear the second song he knew it was about that race you went. He hoped to see you in the next one, and the next one. But you didn't go again. The lyrics were so real his skin felt every word.

When he heard you saying that you felt sorry his tears streamed down his face more violently. He didn't recognize this person. But you always had this effect on him. With you he was a feeler, one that felt way too deeply. Unlike the person he shows to people. You always knew the real him. He couldn't lie to you. Even though you thought he would cheat on you. He would never. Hearing you wanting to hold him broke his heart. Why did you both have to do this the hard way? Why didn't you just be happy with each other? He really missed you. He missed everything about you. Your presence around him. He was his best version with you. Now he feels like a ghost of who he used to be.

The last song just ended him.

‘Do you remember being happy together? I do, don't you? Then all of the sudden, you’re sick to your stomach. Is that still true?’ he whipped his tears the best he could.

You never called her or told her you missed her. But he guessed you would have liked it like that.

‘everything i know brings me back to us. Everywhere I go leads me back to you’ he felt the same.

He didn't know what to do. He had a battle inside him. He promised himself he would stay away from you so you could be happy just like you deserved. But at the same time he wanted to be happy and he knew you made him happy. He was happy with you.

“So? Call her please oscar. You both deserve to be happy and figure things out along the way, together”

Hattie read his mind. Her text just in time when he is back into the silent apartment. The empty and cold apartment that once was full of laughter and music because you were with him. He missed you so much. He missed hearing you play guitar rumbling words then writing them down. You hugged when he was back home, you cuddled in bed when he was sad, your perspective on things. He missed every detail about you.

But was he ready to come back to you?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

author's note: SO I DELETED IT BY MISTAKE AND I HAD TO REDO IT :(((((((( i've never been this sad but I hope you like it anyway. (This like a 2.0 version) it's the longest fic i've ever written and i love it sm :,) oscar piastri i deeply love you.

idk if I should do a part 2, should I?

also shout to to my international friends nikola and sonny, you girls at the best mwak mwak 💌

don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

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munsonsmixtapes · 16 hours ago

Note

Eddie requests, you ask? 🧐

What about something where the reader pines for Eddie from afar (maybe she’s not super close with him but share mutual friends) and over time has to stand aside as Eddie hooks up with other girls. Perhaps Eddie is in a bit of a fuckboy era and is a little teasing (or at times harsh) to the reader. Something happens where the reader’s feelings are put on blast (oof, embarrassing) and choices have to be made on how things move forward.

It could be an angst —> fluff or pure angst depending on where you see it going!

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of vomit and throwing up

You see him flirting with yet another girl as you stand behind the counter at Family Video. You hate how pathetic you feel pining for someone who will never feel the same way about you. You know he won't because you're not his type. You know you're not because you've seen the girls he goes out with. They're nothing like you and you've come close to changing your entire look just to make him notice you, but Robin and Steve convinced you not to.

They're laughing now and you have to turn away because you want so badly for it to be you. So badly that it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You hate the way it makes you feel and you hate how you're so hung up on someone who doesn't even know you exist.

Steve sees you turn away and his heart aches for you. You're one of his best friends and he just wishes that Eddie would finally see you for the wonderful woman you are.

And he wants the two of you to get together. He wants it so bad. Not only because he wants you to be happy, but also because he thinks you'll be good for Eddie. The one he settles down with and maybe even eventually marries. He's rooting for the two of you and he really hopes it works out.

But the thing was, Eddie had no fucking clue. And it wasn't that he didn't like you, he barely knew you. He actually thought you were sweet and was no stranger to waving at you or even greeting you when he sees you around town.

Eventually, they break apart and head to the counter where the girl puts a DVD on the counter as you scan it while Steve is behind you typing some stuff into the computer as he enters the returns into it.

The girl, Molly, maybe? Or was it Martha? Definitely something with an M, hands you what she owes you while staring at you with her eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where she knows you from. As you hand her back her change, it hits her and her face lights up as she gets the realization.

"Now I know where I know you from," she says like it's been killing her not knowing. You wonder what she's talking about and nothing can prepare you for the words that leave her mouth. "You're the girl who has a crush on Eddie here," she laughs, jerking her thumb over her shoulder as the man behind her. The way she says it doesn't sound like he's making fun of you, but you still feel your cheeks heating up.

"All the girls are talking about it. We think it's really cute, by the way. I um, I saw your notebook when you let me borrow it one time. It had his name scribbled all over it with hearts. So adorable."

Your expression matches Eddie's as your eyes widen in unison. His cheeks are bright red and you feel yours getting hot. You don't even know what to do or say. Your mouth is dry and now you feel like you're going to throw up.

And before you can stop yourself, you're running out of the store, your stomach churning as you hurry to your car. You unlock the door and Eddie's racing after you, hurrying to where you're opening the door and pushing it closed so you can't leave. You whip around and stare at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you looked at him.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask, wiping your tears from your eyes and his hands move to rest on your shoulders, leaning closer to you, his lips capturing yours. You gasp into his mouth, but eventually melt into him, not able to resist the exact thing you've been wanting for months.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," he says as he pulls away but only for a second before he's kissing you again.

"It's okay," you reply, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"It's you," he mumbles against your lips. "It's always been you."

"It's always been you too," you tell him as he pushes you against the car gently, wanting to do this exact thing for hours. And if he gets his way, he will.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

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itsstrange · 2 days ago

Text

A Little Bit Warmer

Fandom: MW, MW2, MW3

Relationship: Zombie Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

A/N: I’ve Had This Idea Since Zombie Ghost Was First Introduced But Never Got Around To Officially Write It Down, But Now, IT’S OFFICIALLY HERE!! Had So Much Fun Writing This One.

Also, This Will Definitely Be A Mini Series! Another Thing, This Was Also Semi Inspired By Warm Bodies. 🤗

{ANY WARNING TRIGGERS WILL BE POSTED IN THE BEGINNING IF THE STORY!}

Summary: Is It Possible That There Is Such Things As Miracles? Or Does A Cold Heart Eventually Finds Its Warmth?

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: (Yes) Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Murder, Slightly Graphic Content, Guns, Knifes, etc, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Zombie Protective Ghost, Jealous Zombie Ghost, Eventual Smut,

Call Sign: Kali

—————

ENJOY! 💀🫶

—————

——————————

October 18, 2026

S.C.H.Q

23:00 pm

“How low are we?”

“Low. A lot of children and families are getting sick with this damn weather,”

“What about the emergency vault? I thought we did a big score not too long ago? Filled it up with supplies?”

“Like I said Lieutenant, a lot of children and families are getting sick. It’s spreading like wildfire. And fast. The medical ward is getting overwhelmed with people that they’re down to their last case of supplies,”

“Any casualties?”

The older man sighs, rubbing at his eyebrow, “One so far,”

Fucking great.

You sigh heavily. Leaning your exhausted body against the desk. It had been such a long couple days that the moment you finally arrived at base all you wanted to do was fall asleep for a week straight. You had gone out of the safe zone with a group to try and clear more sections of the city to keep it safe, to expand your community, to make more shelter considering it kept growing as the days went by. So after 8 days of being out of the safe zone, sleeping in uncomfortable conditions, killing herds of flesh eating Zeds, killing looters, you had successfully came back to base with great news. You and your team were able to successfully recover another hot zone, another great victory where everyone in your group made it back with no injuries. No bite marks.

Yet, despite the great news you had for your leader, bad news was landed on your shoulders once again. Fucking typical with this goddamn unit. You had barely gotten off the humvee when a soldier walked towards you with a message that you were needed in the Generals office. Which resulted in you standing near General Shepherds desk as you listened with exhausted eyes that threatened to close on you.

Your long term friend, teammate, partner in crime Phillip Graves stood beside you. His own exhaustion lingering on his stubble jaw.

“When are we heading out?” You ask after a heavy exhale, hands resting on your vest as you stare at the man in front of you,

“Tomorrow. 0500,” Well there goes my beauty sleep. “You and Graves along with the rest of your squad will head up North.”

You nod at the man. Taking in all the information given. It was nothing you’ve never done before, practically done it your entire life. First stop was to head over to Lincoln Grove, where a small downtown with multiple stores stood. You’ve raided most of the stores, but some still remained untouched so it was worth checking out. Main mission was to head further down, passing the barricades of the safe zone towards Red Lines where a hospital stood somewhere in the section.

Easy enough.

Only it wasn’t. Red Lines was known for its activeness of Zeds, Lurkers, runners and Ghouls. Ghouls were rare to be seen out in the city, they mostly hid where it’s dark so they can ambush anyone who pumps warm blood. But still, even they make random appearances during the day.

Red Lines was one of the most uncontrolled sections of the city, it wasn’t where the pandemic first hit, but it was where most of the population lost their lives. It remained untouched. Every time a group went through in hopes to control it, they never came back. Not a single soul in the group would make it back.

Unfortunately, Shepherd was a stubborn old dog and continued in trying to push out every infected there is to officially claim Red Lines. Why? Because he knew by owning Red Lines he’ll have higher authority when it came to medicine. His main goal was to claim that hot section just to control what comes in and out of the hospital.

And you knew he’d do anything to own it.

“Any questions?” Shepherd asks, eyes averting from you to the man beside you, when neither spoke up he nods his head before dismissing you both,

Without another word, just another exhausted sigh falling from your lips you walk out of the man’s office then down the hallways to get out of the building to get to your private quarters. Which really was a rundown apartment complex that was right across from the business building where Shepherd stood hid.

Fifth floor to be precise. Inside the biggest office there was.

Almost every soldier from Shadow Company lived in your apartment complex. Shepherds orders. Claimed his soldiers needed to be ready and alert for anything and everything. The actual truth you knew that he just didn’t want to admit to anyone or the civilians was, he simply wanted his soldiers closer to him for better and faster protection from anyone and anything that tries to threaten him.

The thought alone makes a loud scoff leave your lips as you walk down the stairs to the first floor. Graves, who was walking beside you and speaking to you the entire time—which you obviously weren’t paying attention to— sends you a look. Brows knitted together as you both make your way out the building.

“Somethin’ funny?”

You look over to him, eyes locking for a second before you avert them back in front of you as you push through the semi broken glass doors.

“Yeah. Funny how I thought I was gonna get a good nights sleep today,” You throw in a lie. Well.. not really,

Graves snickers at your words, placing an arm around your shoulders to tug you closer to his side as you both make your way to the apartments.

“Come on up to my room and I’ll give you a good nights sleep,” Graves purrs into your ear, a scoff leaving your lips as you shove him off you,

“In your wildest dreams Philip,” After so many years of working alongside the Texan man you’ve grown use to his flirtatious comments,

Philip Graves was a man known for his words. Especially when it came to luring woman into his bedsheets, something that personally makes an acid-like taste in your tongue at the thought of it. No matter how much you need to unwind or just forget about this shitty ass world for a few minutes, you will never accept his offer. You saw Graves as a close friend, a teammate, and surprisingly a brother. And you knew he knew that too, mostly because you have rejected him multiple times, but Graves was such a stubborn man that he didn’t take no as answer. Obviously he’ll never push it, once rejected always rejected, but that didn’t mean he’d try again every so often.

No matter how many disappointments you gave him after each rejection, he never once gave up.

You knew the man was a man-whore, never one to take a relationship serious, which is why you also declined his offer. Not that you’d ever want a relationship with him. Hell, the thought of possible being in a relationship with him only made you scrunch your face in disgust. He was a friend to you, nothing else.

“Oh (Y/n) (L/n) you fill my soul just a little more each day,” Says Graves, hand planted on his chest as he pouts his bottom lip at you,

“Good. Because one of us has to be the brightness in this friendship,” You give him a smile as you walk through the black gates of the apartment complex,

Other Shadow men and woman can be found passed the gates. Some spoke to one another in the lobby, sitting on the beaten down couch, smoking, drinking, eating, cracking jokes. The apartment was everyone’s safe space. Where they can unwind, relax after completing their tasks, sleep in their proper quarters before having to get up before or at crack of dawn to start their rounds once again. Although, since civilians keep joining the team and the apartments had limited rooms, some soldiers unfortunately had to bunk with other soldiers.

Thankfully, the higher the rank one was, the privilege they had in having their own rooms. Hence, you and Graves.

You both slept on the 7th floor. Overlooking the entire safe zone. Getting a perfect view of the once beautiful city of Chicago. Yet, despite the view and the single apartment you had, you still hated the fact that you had to climb seven flights of stairs to get to your door. It was times like these that you loathed living on the highest floor.

Your legs shook as you climbed the stairs, even considered asking Graves to piggyback you to your floor but you knew that man would you haunt with that memory till the day he dies. And you knew he wouldn’t stop there. As stubborn as that man is he’ll find you in the afterlife and torment you for existence.

So, with an annoyed huff you climbed the rest of the stairs till you made it to your door.

“See you in a few hours,” You hear Graves as he walks further down the hallway, not sparing him a glance you simply wave at him as you push open your door,

Your apartment was decent. Well.. decent as it’ll ever be in times like these. Once entering the small living space, a small hallway greets you with cracked walls, the paint chipping off on either side with smudges of dirt or mud. Once walking further into the home it looked… more decent. A broken tv hung on the wall next to some windows, which some were boarded up as they didn’t have a window— which you were in the process of fixing them somehow— next, there was a single beaten down brown love seat against the wall towards the entrance. A medium coffee table stood in front of the loveseat with your AR-15 leaning against it. Then a medium size generator leaning against the opposite wall where you hung a metal bat on the wall as some sort of prize.

As mentioned, the living room seemed a little more decent, the kitchen however was just a mess with your armory. Guns and cases of bullets engulfed the kitchen. You never made or ate your food in your apartment, you mostly ate at Taz’s Diner where everyone ate together. So it was pointless to have a kitchen when it was never used for cooking, so you made it into your armory instead.

Now going towards your room where you can rest was slightly in better shape. In the center of the room laid your king size bed— something that Graves personally found for you one day while out on patrol, the ever so kind man he was. Grey and orange bedsheets laid on top of the comforter, a brick wall stood behind the bed that had a couple shelves with multiple books. It was another way to destress yourself, minus the working out or going to kill some loitering Zeds, books has always been helpful. So you’d collect as many you can find, causing you to have a mess of stacked books on your shelves.

It surprises you how they’ve managed to hold on for this long or how they haven’t collapsed on you as you slept.

A few more trinkets can be found in your room that you’ve either found or was gifted by some close friends, close civilians or Graves.

You tried to limit your collections, only wanting to keep things that seemed important or useful, yet, books were the only exception.

A metal desk leaned against the wall across the bed. Maps, bullets, a couple parts from guns, dirty rags, tape, tools and markers were scattered on the desk. Then right next to it was your window to the view of the overrun city of Chicago. Some buildings and sections of the safe zone was brought back to life, small dimmed string lights can be seen from your room, then passed the safe zone remained the cold, dark side of Chicago. Every so often you sit on your window sill, cigarette in your mouth as you scan the view, the expanding life just a few floors down, then back to the destroyed city where your mind would often get trapped in the past. Remembering nightmares you wish would vanish from your mind, including the good memories.

They were nothing but pain. It was never good to remember the past, because it reminded you what you once had, what you lost. And those were the nightmares you tried avoiding.

So, shaking the thoughts away, you shrug off your tactical vest, your heavy boots, holsters, jacket, and your tactical belt before falling face first on your mattress. Causing the poor comforter to make a loud noise from the force fall, something you could care less at the moment, all you cared for was sleep.

Nightmares or not, you were getting your sleep.

****

October 19, 2026

S. C. H. Q

0430 am

“You seen Graves?” You ask a soldier, Portman, was his name, as he sat inside a humvee. He simply points in the direction of a tent,

“The General asked to speak to him,” The young soldier says,

With knitted brows you sip your warm, very warm coffee as you make your way towards the tent. Why would he ask for him? Is he changing the plans last minute? If so why weren’t I involved in the conversation? Question after question popped in your head as you make your way through other soldiers to get to the tent. However, just as you rounded the corner of other parked vehicles you hear faint, but loud enough whispers to know people were talking to one another. Your brows knit tighter once more, trying to figure out what was being said but before you can even walk inside, Troy— one of Graves’ idiotic friends who you loathed— steps outside. His face expression showing distaste when he meets your gaze. Yet, not a moment later Graves steps outside with an oddly distant look. Brows knitted together almost in a frown, however once his eyes land on you they instantly change. As if nothing happened.

Why the fuck was Troy apart of the conversation?

“There you are! Beginning to think I had to drag your ass out of bed,” He claims as he fixes his vest,

You give both men a wary look. Your eyes averting from them to the tent behind his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” Graves shakes his head with an annoyed look,

“Busting my balls it’s all,”

“Regarding?” You ask, brow slightly raised,

“None of your concern,” Troy comments, causing you to glare at him, yet before you can argue back Graves is pulling you away from him by wrapping an arm around your shoulders,

However, you still throw the piece of shit a raised finger as you’re forced to walk away.

As Graves lead you towards the trucks you asked again if everything was alright. You knew the General was a miserable old dog at times and would give shit to anyone he decided to target, so you knew what Graves felt at the moment. However, you couldn’t wrap your head around anything Graves has done wrong in the past few days or weeks. So it just seemed off.

“Don’t worry bout’ it sugar. It’s handled,” The man smirks down at you when he sees the way a mask of annoyance hovers over your face at his pet name,

Oh how he knew how much you loathed that pet name and oh how much he loved using it to simply get a rise out of you.

“You’re lucky I’m sleep deprived otherwise I’d toss this whole cup of coffee on you,” Your comment earns a loud chuckle from him,

“Thank god to your lack of sleep then,” He claims as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you both towards the humvee’s where soldiers were loading in,

After another 5 to 10 minutes of briefing the soldiers of the mission, loading the trucks of empty duffle bags for medical supplies, checking and counting ammunition for every rifle, everyone began climbing into the trucks.

Once you checked your vest multiple times, checked each component, your extra magazines, your holsters, your combat knives that you had tucked behind your back, drank your cup of coffee before pouring another one, you finally climb into the passenger seat while Graves took the drivers side.

Once signaling the man you were ready, he shifts the gear before feeling the truck moving down the road. You stare out the window, watching kids wave goodbye as their parents stood right behind them, a small smile tugs on your lips as you notice their proud, wide smiles as they wave goodbye. Yet, your heart also gets pulled on by sadness at the fact they are living in a world with such cruel conditions, instead of the happy, semi-safe world it use to be. Now, they had to fight to survive. They had to become soldiers to survive and help protect their new home.

“ETA to Red Lines is approximately an hour ladies and gentlemen. Keep your eyes pealed for any movement, safeties off once out of the safe zone,” Your thoughts are interrupted by Graves speaking into the radio,

‘Rog,’

‘Copy,’

‘Copy that sir,’

Multiple voices can be heard through the radio as they announce their confirmation.

“Get some shut eye Kali. I’ll wake you up for whatever reason,” Graves calls you by your callsign before voicing his offer, his eyes focused down the road,

No matter how heavenly that sounded, you knew it wasn’t a good idea. He needed an extra pair of eyes looking after him, after the team. Plus, if you were the last to survive Shepherd would have your head if he found out his team got killed because you wanted to get some extra sleep on the road.

“No I’m good,” You respond, slowly sipping on your coffee,

Graves turns to look at you, observing your sleep deprived frame before looking back towards the road. Just staring at you alone made him exhausted. You needed sleep and he’d forcefully put you to sleep if that’s what it took to make you catch some extra hours.

“(Y/n) seriously, gets some sleep. I’ll wake you when I need you,” He tries again, voice calm and comforting as his baby blues look into yours,

You softly chuckle, appreciating his concern, “I’m okay. M’not that tired anymore,”

That was a total lie.

Because after 10 minutes of driving down the dark, destroyed, abandoned roads of Chicago you swiftly dozed off. Empty coffee cup nearly falling out of your hands if it wasn’t for Graves’ quick reflexes.

The man slightly chuckles at you as he observes your sleeping frame before focusing his eyes back on the road. He knew you trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him, to have faith in him in keeping you both alive when one was resting. He hoped it’d remained that way. But deep down, he knew it won’t, not after today. He knew it was going to be a difficult decision if you don’t come around the new regulations that Shepherd will have back at base.

The rules made sense. But he just knew you’d be against it. And that alone brought an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

*****

Red Lines

0800

“Alright, Eagle 3 stays out here. Keep watch for any movement. Eagle 1 you’ll take care of building A. Find anything valuable that we need. Eagle 2 you’re with me and Lieutenant Kali. We’ll scope the bottom before making our way to the pharmacy unit,” Graves lays down the orders, looking at every soldier who simply nods back at him,

You on the other hand couldn’t help the annoyed look on your face when Troy would be tagging along with you and Graves. You’d rather much get chased by a group of Zeds than walk beside him. That man was not to be trusted by any means.

“If things get too complicated you retreat. Whatever you find is whatever we’ll take. Got it?” You join on the orders, receiving more nods from the soldiers,

“Remember. Safeties off. If anything moves you shoot to kill,” Graves says once again before sending everyone to their positions,

Meeting Graves’ gaze you send him a nod before following him up the stairs that lead to the hospital building. Once inside the lobby, Eagle 1 slowly and quietly parts away to checkout their side of the building. Guns raised and ready to fire. From the corner of your eye you watch them walk past the doors before disappearing from your sight. Once the lobby was clear to move forward, you and Graves lead the rest of the soldiers down the hallway.

As you made your way down the hospital you kept your gun tight to your shoulder, finger off the trigger but close enough to be used in case of anything. You and the group slowly and quietly searched each room. Your eyes cautiously scanned every inch of the place, noticing just how rough this hospital had gone through after the outbreak.

Hospital beds, equipment, papers, wheel chairs, broken windows, everything you can possibly think of was scattered across the floor, the hallways. The ceiling tiles were broken, wires hung from above, vines somehow made their way inside the hospital and have overtook the walls, the entire hospital was out of power but emergency lights still flashed, casting a red bright glow throughout the building.

However, the further your group walked into the building the worst everything got. Blood stains coated the floors, the walls, bodies that have been dead for months maybe years were left on the ground. Yet, what made everyone on edge and more cautious of their surroundings was how fresh some blood stains were. Everyone kept close watch on everything, every corner and every room.

Luckily, no living dead was seen, yet, causing you to reach the pharmacy wing with no issue. Although, it still didn’t mean everyone was safe, they still had to stay cautious.

Yet despite scanning the pharmacy for any danger, no one noticed a pair of white frosty eyes watching them in a dark corner the whole time. Watching a specific person in the group.

While two soldiers kept watch on the entrance of the door, the rest of you tossed as much medicine as you can into black duffel bags.

“Bronx start piling these bags on something with wheels,” You call out to the soldier who kept watch as you start on your second duffle, throwing variety of medical supplies inside,

From alcohol wipes, rubbing alcohol bottles, medical bandages, band-aides, any working thermometers, stethoscopes as a request from some doctors back at base, anything you saw that was of use you’d toss it in the bag. As you helped Graves carry another loaded bag onto a medical trolley that Bronx has brought from somewhere in the room, a faint noise coming from outside the double doors has everyone stopping.

“Anyone hear that?” Silo, another soldier that was placing pill bottles inside her duffle calls out,

“I did. We should bail Graves,” Troy claims, eyes directed at the doors,

“Negative, we’ve got orders,” You demand the soldier. Ignoring his words you continue tossing items inside the duffle,

With a grunt the man goes to place the duffle bag on the trolley, mumbling words underneath his breath which was most likely directed towards you but you continue to ignore him like any other day. As Troy placed his bag amongst the other filled bags, another noise that sounded like glass being stepped on comes from outside the doors, catching everyone’s attention again.

“I’m telling you something’s out there,” Silo repeats again, taking a step away from the doors, weapon slightly raised,

The sound of a shot gun being pumped rings in the air, “Graves, let’s bail!” Troy harshly growls as he points his gun towards the door,

Your own ears heard the noise, causing your blood to run cold. But you knew the base was running low on everything. You were already here, at least three bags worth of medical supplies, you couldn’t just leave them. Not when people, families, kids are slowly suffering and possibly dying. You had to take it back with you.

The stores that you’ve checked before coming to Red Lines were no use. Everything had been cleared, leaving every shelve empty. So you had to go back to base with something.

“We have orders Troy!” You remind the man as Graves slowly walks towards the double doors, rifle of his own pointing upwards, finger ready on the trigger for anything,

Troy only throws a scoff at you, “Fuck the orders!”

Jesus he’s more of a fucking pussy than I thought. You think to yourself as you turn to face the man, who still had his shot gun up in the air. Signs of sweat lingered on his temple.

“Fuck you! Families are at stake they need medicine!”

“That’s my point! None of this matters anymore they’re all gonna die anyways!”

Now that raised a flag.

“What?”

“Troy shut up that’s enough!” The look of panic and anger on Graves face raised more flags, what the hell were they hiding?

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Graves looks at you, that same odd look in his eyes from earlier was back, but he simply shakes his head with closed eyes,

“Nothing! Look, there’s nothing out there alright everyone just needs to stop being fucking paranoi—,”

“Phil!” You scream just as you see a large herd of Lurkers and Runners pushing through the doors,

Graves was able to slam the butt of his rifle towards the first Zed reaching towards him, sending him on the ground as he’s quick to shoot the rest.

“Aim for their heads!” You hear him scream as bullets begin flying in the small pharmaceutical,

In less than a second mayhem irrupted. Snarls, growls, screams, pained screams, bullets, windows, glass shattering can be heard in the building. Whatever medical supplies were left had been pushed off the counters or damaged by bullets as the living dead attacked. You had unloaded a whole magazine on the dead causing you to reach for your belt to grab another mag when you glance around the horrific sight unfolding in front of you. Multiple soldiers had been pinned in the corners by herds, pained screams surrounded the pharmaceutical as each soldier got mauled by the living dead.

You watched with wide eyes as you see one young soldier being dragged towards the back of the building by a herd, you go to reach for his wailing hands but before you can grab ahold of them you’re being slammed against the counter. A grunt rumbles in your throat when something digs into your hip, causing pain to travel up your side.

Turning, your met with the most gruesome face inches away from your own.

A runner in the process of forming into a Ghoul. His skin grey and rotten. Patches of skin missing or peeling from its face, blood either fresh and dry stained his entire torso. His mouth. Eyes wild and wide as it tries to latch its teeth onto you. Which you’d like to point out, most of his mouth was completely missing. Only bits and pieces of skin held it upright, giving you a disgusting and traumatic view of his teeth as he growled and snarled.

You groaned out loud as you try pushing the runner off of you. Doing your best in forcing his face away from you by placing your hand under his neck, forcing it away from you, your legs struggling to also kick him away from you. But it was no use because he was ravenous for you, causing him to use all his strength to mark you, eat you. Although, noticing how you’ll probably get bit by this piece of shit if you don’t fight hard enough, adrenaline rises in your veins, giving you enough strength to push him backwards till you slam it against the other counter. Bottles of pills, liquids of you don’t know what the fuck fall from the top shelve, some of it landing around you both or on you as you both struggle with each other.

But as you fought with the runner you somehow lose your balance, causing you to fall backwards, bringing the dead with you.

Another pained groan rumbles in your throat as the weight that falls on top of you nearly takes out all the air from your lungs, but with the little strength you had, you held the runner above you. Away from your skin. But your arms were quickly growing tired, causing an angered, frustrated, slightly fearful yell to fall from your lips. You cannot die this way.

However, before the dead can get a taste of your throat you feel him being pushed off you. Confusion settles on your face at the sudden moment, but is soon replaced with another feeling. Fear and worry as you see a tall, very tall being nearly hovering above you. The bright glowing red light illuminates his features, giving you a glimpse of a skull mask. From where you were on the ground you noticed military gear covered his entire frame, however fear—panic overtakes your body when you noticed this military man was not in fact alive. No. He was infected. The blood and slightly rotten skin was enough proof for you.

As the dead inches closer towards you, you instinctively crawl away from him. Trying to get away from him, away from his ravenous state. You even managed to throw your knife at him while crawling away, causing it to latch onto his right shoulder, yet he only pulls it off with no care in the world as he continues inching closer to you. Crawling away quickly turns into you curling into a ball when he suddenly launches at you. As you waited for the end in a tight ball, your eyes are quick to shoot open when you never see it. In fact, you turn around when you see the tall infected military man fighting off a Ghoul that was apparently fighting him to grab onto you.

Not thinking much about the odd situation you quickly rise to your feet before running to grab your rifle from the floor.

Just as you grip the gun, a pair of strong arms clasping around your shoulders brings a shriek along with a jolt from you. You go to punch the infected, but Graves quickly spins you around to look directly in your eyes.

“We gotta go!” He yells over the ongoing commotion and without any hesitation he drags you by the arm to leave the death trap,

You quickly follow him, but just as you jump over the fallen trolley you stop to quickly pick up a duffle bag that had medical supplies before continuing in following him out the building. Graves yells at you to fucking run for your life, literally, as more horrific shrieks and snarls echo throughout the hospital as you, Graves and of course Troy run down the hallways.

More bullets fly in the air as the three of you shoot any oncoming herds. Felt like a never ending nightmare, but the three of you eventually make it outside. Where Eagle 3 had been mauled to death.

“Fucking Zeds!” Graves curses underneath his breath at the horrific sight,

Blood, lots of blood coated the pavement. Limbs, ripped intestines were scattered throughout the floor, turning your stomach as you scan the gruesome scene. If you had the time you’d definitely puke your coffee and protein bars, but your life was literally at stake. No time to puke your guts.

No pun intended.

“Fucking bastards! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! Come on!” The sound of Troy yelling like a complete maniac brings you out of your thoughts,

“Troy get your ass in the truck!” Graves yells from inside the humvee, already igniting the ignition and placing the gear in drive,

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you grab ahold of Troy’s tactical vest before dragging him towards the truck. Who was still yelling harmless profanities to the infected, who by the way were rapidly forcing themselves out of the building, causing you to push the idiot inside the humvee before quickly climbing inside yourself. The moment the door shuts Graves all but burns rubber on the pavement, leaving the herd of dead running after the truck.

*******

S.C.H.Q

1000 am

“I’m telling you sir, everything turned into a shit show,” Graves explains once again, exhaustion written on his face as he rests his hands on either side of his hips, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Sons of bitches ambushed us,”

“Goddamn it Graves,” Shepherd growls under his breath as he massages his forehead,

“With all do respect sir, you knew what we were walking into. That place is just damn near impossible to get through. We’re lucky enough to even stand here and tell you it was a failed mission,” You go to defend the Texan, earning a small glare from the old dog,

“Not lucky enough. Not everyone made it back,” You hear Troy behind you, feeling irritation rise in your chest. He’s been such a fucking Parrot since you’ve arrived at base,

But like usual, you ignore him, not even sparing him a glance. Yet, he still kept going. You hear him push off the wall as he walks closer to the group huddled around the Generals’ desk.

“My men would still be here if you’d just listen to me. But no! You just had to keep fucking grabbing medicine did ya!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to fucking save lives! For doing my goddamn job!” You yell back, facing the man to stare directly into those dark, coward, brown eyes of his,

“Yeah? Well look what that got us! One duffle bag filled with medical supplies that’ll not even last a week and the lives of soldiers lost because you wanted to save people who aren’t worth saving anymore!!” The moment those words left his mouth, your fist was quick to make contact with his left cheek. He stumbles backwards against some chairs.

Everything you were feeling; exhaustion, hunger, rage, adrenaline, annoyance, irritation, all of it had combined. Causing you to lash out. Physically. Besides, he’s had coming.

“That’s enough! Both of you!!” Graves once again is pulling you away from the man storming at you,

Although, Troy wasn’t close to reach or touch you because Graves had placed a firm hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

“Now you listen here Lieutenants!” Shepherd announces with a dark tone, rising from his chair he fixes his uniform before walking around the desk, “I understand this is a tough situation on both your parts, but killing each other won’t bring anyone justice!”

“But what I do need is both of you to be on the same page! I’m already dealin’ with a herd of sick, panicked folks out there demanding for any sort of help! The last thing I need is to deal with both of your childlike behavior!”

You send a small glare to Shepherd from the corner of your eye before bringing your fuming orbs to the idiotic dirty blonde head. Who now sported a small gash on his bottom lip, bringing some sort of satisfaction knowing it was you who caused the small gash.

“Now I know we’re all frustrated and stressed about all this mess. But we gotta keep our heads on straight! So with that being said, Lieutenant Lennon go on and catch a breather. Lieutenant (L/N) you’re dismissed. Get some shut eye, I know you need it,” Shepherd orders with a cold, firm tone, eyes challenging you, “You’re dismissed Lieutenant. We’ll spell you later on in the night,”

You don’t argue. Mostly because Graves gives your arm a slight shove with his elbow, a message to just let it go and follow orders. So you do just that. Not sparing either men a glance you storm out the office, the door slamming shut, rattling the windows with its force. Not stopping, you head down towards the steps of the building, ignoring other soldiers standing on guard or the looks directed your way, you just kept walking till you eventually reached outside. The fresh air hitting your heated skin.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath through your nose. Holding it for a few seconds before exhaling deeply through your mouth.

This whole morning was a fucking shit-show and you blamed no one else other than Shepherd. If he wasn’t so obsessed in overtaking Red Lines, everyone from your squad would have been alive. If he’d just send your troop to another location that hadn’t been touched before, none of this mess would have happened.

More time is being wasted, more lives are being taken by a goddamn flu that this base has no medical care for, especially now since the mission was a failure and whatever was inside the duffle was not going to be enough. If you were feeling stressed before then this only made your shoulders heavier at the thought of multiple families slowly dying for the lack of medical care.

“I’m assuming the mission didn’t go as planned?” A soft voice coming from your left has you opening your eyes,

Sandy. One of your closest friends’ girlfriend stood beside you. Her blonde hair held in a messy bun as she wore a grey coat, light brown long sleeve underneath with some old brown timberland boots on her feet. You observed her features, trying to see any signs of sickness and immediately feeling relief when she looked completely fine. Your eyes then fall down to the little boy by her side, bright green eyes looking up at you with a wide smile. You smile down at him, ruffling his short dirty blonde locks.

“Was a fucking disaster,” You mumble under your breath, locking eyes with the woman,

She gives you a small saddened smile, one hand reaching out to your arm to give you reassurance while the other cradled her growing bump.

“All that matters now is that you’re back. That you’re alive,” Sandy states with the same warm smile,

You give her a small smile as you look down at her hand rubbing soft circles on her stomach, “How’s the nugget?”

Sandy’s smile widens, “He’s good. Kickin’ and punchin’ in there. Think he wants out already,”

You chuckle at her response, “Just like his father. Stubborn as hell,”

Sandy softly chuckles. A glimpse of sorrow hovering over her eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. But you knew she was strong, stronger than you that’s for sure because she pushed down the growing ball in her throat and continued smiling at you.

“Listen.. whatever we brought it’s.. it’s not enough. So regardless if you both aren’t sick.. just go to medic. Better safe than sorry,” You tell her with a small smile, which she returns, appreciation written on her face for your constant help,

She truly did appreciate everything you’ve done for both of them after Billy had passed away. At first she didn’t need your pity, but once she saw you were determined in keeping Billy’s promise, she slowly began opening to you. A bond was soon formed between you three, and you absolutely cherished it.

After kindly declining her offer in grabbing some breakfast with them—considering that’s where they were heading in the first place before running into you— you wave them goodbye before heading towards the Shadow Company’s apartments. Looks from multiple soldiers were sent your way, word had traveled fast about the failed mission which you weren’t surprised about, but still grew annoyed for this squads loud mouth. Nothing is ever kept a secret. Yet, you held your head high, giving dark threatening glares at soldiers who dared look your way, making them look the other way with a panicked expression in their eyes.

It felt like an eternity when you finally made it to your private quarters. Once the door was shut and locked behind you. You toss your keys somewhere on a nearby couch, placed your rifle against the coffee table, start to shrug off your boots and vest before making your way towards the bedroom. Where you fall face first on the mattress, slightly rattling your shelves from the rough impact, although at that moment you could care less if they decide to give its last breath and have it crumble on top of you.

You just needed sleep.

And that’s exactly what you got. Within five or so minutes you start to drift away, the sound of heavy rain beginning to pour just outside your window helps your exhaustion take over your body, helps the stress from yours shoulders to disperse for the time being and sending you into another deep, dreamless sleep.

++++

1900

BANG!

The loud, extremely loud noise has you bolting from your bed. Your breath uneven as you scan your surroundings. Your bedroom remained still, only the sounds of rain hitting against your window can be heard, but before you can calm yourself, convince yourself it was just another nightmare you hear it once again. Only difference it has you jumping from bed when those loud sounds were familiar sounds of gunfire. With quick movements you slip on your boots before darting outside the bedroom, you quickly grip your rifle before running out the door.

The hallways were empty, but as you hurried down the steps, it was then you began hearing muffled screams, which then grew much louder and clearer that sent a dark shiver down your spine the moment you stepped outside into the pouring rain. It was absolute chaos outside. People were desperately running from something, someone, while others sought for safety. You tried asking a civilian for answers but they only pleaded with you with a frightening look as they ran away from you

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you watch them bolt down the road, but your eyes wildly turn at the sound of more horrific screams,

Your eyes grow wide as you catch a Shadow dragging a woman by her hair as she screams and pleads with them. Immediately, you ran towards the commotion where you roughly shove the soldier away, causing him to lose his balance. “What the hell are you doing?!”

His eyes stare at you with confusion, determination, yet they also had uncertainty and fear in them, “Following orders!”

“What?!” You yell the same time when more frightful pleads and screams are heard before hearing another round of gunfire echoing down the street,

The loud, piercing noise has you flinching, but nonetheless run towards the rapid fire. Your feet come to a complete stop when you see the horrific sight in front of you. Inside a gate we’re at least five Shadows with rifles, but your stomach turns when your eyes land on the pile of bodies that were stacked upon each other. The sight alone has a gasp falling from your lips, never in a million years did you think your team would be slaughtering civilians. Civilians and..kids.

The moment you see soldiers lining another group of people, along with kids, you run towards the gated area.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You demand out loud as you shove the soldier that was about to raise his rifle,

Taken aback by your sudden presence and sudden shove, his eyes were just as wide and frantic as yours. Even with a mask covering most of his face you can see the horror in his face. “G-General Shepherd, Lieutenant. He’s ordered a sweep of the community,”

“A what?!” You question with genuine confusion and horror,

You should have seen it coming, of course the old man would do something like this to keep himself safe and away from any sort of danger. But killing innocent lives? You knew Shepherd was crazy with his risky motives, but now, you were convinced he had finally lost it.

Yet, before you can demand him to put the rifle away and free the civilians, a loud voice is calling after you. Turning around, your met with another soldier jogging after you.

“Lieutenant (L/N), General Shepherd wants you in his office. It’s urgent,”

“Damn right it’s fucking urgent!” You growl at him then turn back to the man who still had his rifle in his hand, “I don’t know what kind of shit ass order he gave you, but that’s enough! Let these people go,”

Just as you turn to walk with the other man, a voice is calling after you, “But Lieutenant.. General Shep—,”

“General Sheperd has lost his goddamn mind!!” You yell over the pouring rain, your eyes firm and angry, “Now I’ve ordered you, to stand. Down!”

The soldier hesitates to lower his weapon, even spares a glance to the other soldiers who stood by with the same hesitance, but they all eventually lower their weapons and allow the civilians to leave from the gate. All of them sprint away with frightened screams, once you knew not a single soul was apprehended you followed the soldier to the building where the piece of shit was. Although, you couldn’t deny the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach, you knew something bad was soon to come.

As you made your way through the streets, the streets that were once filled with certainty, safety, and joy, were now filled with absolute darkness and silence. Only the sound of the pouring rain surrounding you can be heard, along with faint screams coming here and there. You eventually make it to the top of the building where you shove open the door to his office, causing it to roughly collide with the glass window.

“Wanna explain to me why we’re killing half the fucking community?!” You yell as you march towards the desk where the old dog sat with a grim look,

Other soldiers who were nearby took a step closer towards you, indicating they’d hold you down if you’d tried anything.

Troy stood right beside Shepherd, his hands clasped behind his back as he glared at your storming frame. You also didn’t miss the way he takes a step forward in a protective manner, which makes you tighten your hold on your rifle. Your eyes then turn to the left of the office where Graves leaned against a stack of piled cases, his own rifle hung around his neck, dangling in front of his body, but it was his eyes that had a unfamiliar dark look in them.

“Lieutenant, I need you to calm down,” Shepard orders, his voice horsed as he spoke to you,

“Calm?— calm down?! You just ordered to kill innocent lives! How the fuck do you expect me to calm down!” You scream, your voice bouncing off the walls as you step closer to the desk, but hands gripping on your elbows has you halting your steps,

“Because Lieutenant, what I’m about to tell you is something I need you to understand!” Shepherd sternly states as he slowly rises from his chair, his eyes looking at you as you shrug off the soldiers,

“Understand what?! That we’re becoming mercenaries?!”

“Understand that this goddamn flu we got going on is only becoming more of a problem!” The old man starts, he remains behind his desk as he continues, “More lives are being infected with this flu every god forsaking minute and we don’t have the medical equipment to cure it!”

You shrug your shoulders from frustration and rage, “So what?! So that means you have to start killing people for it?! What happened to isolation?! Or quarantining the sick?!”

“Quarantine won’t do any justice here!” Troy joins in, his gaze firm as he continues standing by the General’s side, “Like General Shepherd said, everyone is being infected by the second. We need to kill the sick to kill the flu!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t believe Graves was allowing this! All he did was stay quiet throughout the whole argument, just switching his gaze from you to Shepherd to Troy then back to you. After everything you’ve all been through, every near death experience, this was how your relationship would end? He wouldn’t try and attempt to back you on this? How can he agree with them? How can he kill in cold blood? What happed to him?

“Does that also include children?! Innocent children?!” You yell at every man in the room, but your eyes land on Shepherd when he inhales deeply through his nose, his shoulders straightening as he looks directly in your eyes,

“Whatever it takes. Lieutenant,” Your blood boiled in your veins at his words,

Your anger, hatred, frustration, exhaustion, everything you were feeling at the moment, you let it take over. Your vision immediately gets clouded with pure white hot rage, your heart pounded in your ears, the hair on your arms raised as your hands shook.

End him. Fucking kill him! He’ll never get away this.

“You crazy old fuck!!” You yell as you raise your rifle in the air, the barrel directed towards Shepherd, his eyes wide as he stares at you,

The situation had escalated rather fast. Your finger pressed the trigger with no hesitation, igniting the chamber to go off, but just as you had raised the gun towards the man and just as you pressed it, someone is knocking the rifle out of your hands. Because of this, the bullet only clipped Shepherd on his left shoulder. Which still had him stumbling backwards against the wall as he clutched onto his injured shoulder.

Almost immediately as the rifle fell to the ground, you feel large hands grasping your arms, but you quickly fight them off by twisting from their hold and snapping one of their arms, bringing an agony scream from them. It was then you realized it was another Shadow.

Yet, just as you hurt one soldier, more pair of hands are grabbing ahold of you, forcing you to the ground but your body was filled with adrenaline, rage that you used it to push against them. You roughly knock your shoulder against another Shadow’s firm chest, sending him tumbling back towards the other that had held onto you.

The moment both of them had fell to the ground, Troy was next in grabbing onto you. He gripped your hair as he pulled your head backwards, earning a pained scream from you. He threatened you disgustingly close in your ear that only seemed to intensified your rage, so with your free arm, you let your fist connect with his face once again where you hear a cracking sound before seeing him tumbling backwards against the wall. His hands reached up to his bloody nose as he groaned in pain.

“(Y/n)! Stop!” You hear Graves’ scream, your eyes avert to the Texan, noticing then he had his rifle pointing at you but held out a hand as his blue eyes pleaded with you,

It was at his moment that you knew, he’d shoot you if ordered too.

You stared at him with hurt, angered, betrayed eyes. How can he possibly allow this to happen? Why would he allow this to happen? You knew Graves would often do so some shady stuff or risk his life in order to get the job done, but this?! This was beyond not okay. This was not the Philip Graves you knew.

“Troy don’t!” Graves yells, his eyes wide as he watches the man behind your shoulder,

The moment the words leave his mouth you quickly turn to bolt out the office just as bullets start to fly. A bullet still manages to get lodged in your right upper arm as you ran out the door, but it wasn’t enough to halt your steps, instead it only heightened your adrenaline to run faster down the hallway. That was until you see more soldier running down your way, causing you to push through a random door just as their own rifles start sending live rounds your way. It felt like an eternity of you running through the building, dodging numerous bullets with your name on it, fighting Shadows who only ended up getting their life ripped from them by your own hands, but you eventually make it out the building. Except it wasn’t in a nice way.

Just as you had gotten to the second floor of the building and were focused on running down the hallway, one of Shepherds soldiers had caught you by surprise. He had emerged from a dark corner and had tackled you against the window, shattering it on impact. You fought him for a few minutes before you see him lunge at you in frustration, sending you both flying out the window. The both of you tumble down the second floors rooftop before landing roughly on the street. You groaned heavily as you laid under the pouring rain, your entire body flared with pain as you laid on the ground gathering your breath. But a voice in your head screams at you to get up. It took some strength, but you eventually pull yourself up and off the ground.

It was then as you slowly got to your feet that you noticed the man you were fighting with didn’t have the same luck as you. He had landed on nearby humvee, where you had landed on a tent filled with crates and cardboard boxes. Still wasn’t a painless fall, but at least you survived it.

With a hand clutching onto your aching abdomen, you limp away from the building, but the moment you had gotten a few feet away from said building, more shots are being fired in the air, forcing you to run through your pain.

You ran through crowds of people who were also running scared in different directions as those sons of bitches fired away. Not caring if they shot an innocent life, not caring if they shot innocent children, they didn’t care what was in front of them just as long as they got their job done. And their job was capturing you. Alive. Alongside “sweeping” the community.

But from the looks of it they had excuses ready to share to Shepherd on why they wouldn’t be able to bring you in alive.

Fearful screams are heard all around you as you ran through terrified crowds. Slightly being shoved or tripped by the civilians as they ran anywhere to find safety, fearing for their lives. You didn’t blame them. This was supposed to be a community where it should have felt safe for them, where they can rebuilt themselves, where they can depend on to stay alive, now they tried finding any escape to survive from those murdering cunts.

You ran as fast as you can to a dark alley where it led to a barricaded tunnel, the tunnel that led outside the headquarters. A tunnel that nobody knew about. A tunnel you had created as an emergency escape, no matter the situation. Whether it was an attack from Looters, from other rival groups, from Zeds, or in your case at the moment. Being captured and killed by your very own team who you thought was your family.

With quick movements you pull apart the gate from the floor, causing a small opening to get to the other side. The muddy floor covered your tactical gear as you forced your way into the small opening, huffing and puffing as you used whatever energy you had left to escape. Just as a flashlight points down towards the alley you were already on your feet running down the tunnel. Looking behind your shoulder you see more lights running your way, which only caused you to run faster. Once out the tunnel you turn to your left to head further away from the base, careful to stick to the shadows as you see more soldiers outside the base in guard. Pointing their lights to see if they find anything, anyone.

After what seemed like eons of dodging their spotlights, you quickly run further down the streets, however, just as you thought you were at a safe distance, before you can even process it somebody had tackled you down. A loud groan falls from your lips as you land painfully on your ribs, again. The captor who had tackled you fought with you, forcing you to turn around as he tried his best in zip tying your hands together, but of course you fought back. With irritation of not being able to control your squirming frame, the soldier forces you to turn forward right before letting the butt of his rifle land a heavy strike on your face. Causing your world to spin for a hot second.

“Eagle to base, I’ve got her. I repeat, I’ve apprehended Lieutenant Kali,” You hear him say into the cold night air, your mind slightly still dazed from the brutal blow to the head,

You didn’t know what the other person in the radio orders him to do, but knew it was nothing good because you see him nod before slowly making his way towards you. You tried crawling away from him, despite the blood trickling down the side of your temple and dizziness clouding your mind, you tried your best in moving away from him. But it was no use because he was quick to grip you from your ankles before roughly dragging you against the floor till he hovered above you, however, before he can do you any more harm he’s suddenly being tackled to the ground by a dark figure.

A brutal scream is being irrupted into the dark sky as the dark figure eats away at the soldier. Fuck. Holy shit. You think to yourself as you remain frozen on the floor, watching the gory scene unfold right in front of you. It didn’t take long for the screams to die out. Just when they did, the dark figure rises from the floor and slowly turns to you. It was then you noticed it was the same Zed from earlier. The one from the hospital. Your brows knit together in confusion, not quite understanding how he was standing right in front of you, just a few feet away. Did he follow us? You think once again, but before the Zed can try and pounce at you too the sound of more Shadow Company’s soldiers come running down the street, catching both yours and the Zeds attention. Using the opportunity of him looking down at the group of soldiers running your way, you quickly rise to your feet before bolting further down the street. Away from the soldiers, away from the flesh eating zombie.

Because if it wasn’t bullets that would kill you, it would be in the cold hands of the Zed.

You ran without looking back. Not really caring where you were heading, you just knew you had to get somewhere safe. So you ran down the darken streets of Chicago, the streets that were once filled with noise and joy, now they stood in cold frozen silence as the fungus eats away at the buildings and streets. Vines overtaking numerous houses, buildings, burnt cars, making it look indeed out of a horror movie.

After running aimlessly down the roads and cutting through multiple buildings without looking behind your shoulder, you squeeze through a broken down garage door that led to the other side of the home. However, just as you managed to fit through and turned to run once again, your feet come to an abrupt stop when your eyes land on a large herd of zombies.

Neither of them had noticed you yet. But it wouldn’t be long for them to pick up your scent and started chasing you, so to avoid that at all costs, you slowly begin to backtrack your steps as quietly as possible. But just as you moved a leg you see a creeper coming from the corner, noticing how he desperately begins sniffing the air, causing his dead buddies to do the same as they try following your scent.

Panic rises in your chest as you watch them slowly turn in your direction, but before they can get a visual of you a large cold hand covers your mouth, earning a muffled scream as you feel a firm arm wrap around your shoulders and hauling you out of their sight. Fear and adrenaline rushes in your veins as you try fighting the Zed, mentally preparing that this is how you die, this is how you’ll get infected. Despite you still trying to wiggle yourself out of the strong arms, you knew this was the end. After so many years of fighting to stay alive, so many bullets you’ve caught, so many lives you took, this was your end. None of it mattered anymore.

As you continued to fight your way out of his hold, you feel the way his hand tightens around your mouth the same time he pins you closer towards his chest. Noticing the way the heard of Zeds and Creepers slowly walk past the little alleyway you both hid from. The darkness helped hide you two, but your heart hammered in your chest as you watch with wide eyes, seeing them desperately follow your scent, seeing them pick up their pace when it must be fading into the night sky. After what seemed like centuries, the Zed that held you against his chest eventually lets you go, which you are quick to take a large step away from him.

Your breath came out of your mouth in quick panicked pants. Eyes still wide as you avert them from the tall figure to the walking dead. You weighed your options. Either stay and fight off the tall one or run and risk getting chased by the rest of the herd who seemed to be in good distance, but still. You don’t know how many more of them are out there.

So, you settled on fighting the tall one. Would you win? That’s highly unlikely. But hey. You’ve survived worse situations.

Slowly backing away from the military Zed, your eyes held his white, frosty, gaze. Then, from the corner of your eye you spotted an old, rusty iron crowbar, which you quickly grip onto it. Still holding his gaze, your hands tighten their hold on the bar when you see the Zed now walking towards you, a loud, threatening growl rumbling from it. You continue taking slow steps away from it, but just as you did you hear another loud, deep, gurgling growl, only except this time it didn’t come from the dead in front of you. This time it came from behind you.

Fuck sake give me a break. You mentally curse as you slowly, oh so slowly turn around. Only to be met with a large, very, very large obese zombie. Your eyes grow wide as your mouth falls open at the monstrosity standing just a few inches from you. This night was seriously determined in ending your life one way or another.

Yet, before your life can officially come to an end, you’re suddenly being tossed backwards against the cold concrete. A pained groan vibrates in your throat as you land awkwardly, but just as you fell you see the dead soldier once again launching at the large zombie.

“The fuck?” This time you voice out your thoughts as you remain watching the way the tall soldier fights off the other zombie, as if it was preventing it from reaching you,

There’s no way. That’s clearly not happening right now. There’s no way this very dead soldier is fighting off another zombie to get it away from me. I’m just going bat-shit crazy. That’s what’s actually happening right now. You think to yourself as you continue staring at the sight in front of you, eventually, you slowly crawled away then finally jolt to your feet before once again running out of the alley. As you ran, growls echo right behind you, but you never stopped. You once again continued running till you knew it was safe to stop.

You honestly don’t know how far you got, but you eventually come to a stop when you get to a suburban area that was deserted. Your lungs burned while your ribs stabbed at your sides. The rain never ceased, in fact it only seemed to intensify as the night went on, which you then realized you had to find shelter to gather yourself, deal with your throbbing arm and dry yourself before you die of hyperthermia. That’s how much luck you had.

As you panted heavily under the pouring rain, eyes observing your surroundings to catch a glimpse of any movement, any danger, you had missed the way a dark figure blended well in the shadows of the suburban area, as well as blending his heavy footsteps with the rain. That was until you turned around to check if no one or anything was indeed following you, but the moment you turn around your entire body is jolting from fright as the tall tactical Zed stood inches away from you.

“Fuck!” You curse as you fall backwards again. Which you’d like to point out that you’ll be waking up with some serious bruises on your lower backside from the repetitive falls,

You slowly crawl away from the dead, but the more you try distancing yourself, the more it walked towards you with a faint growl. Little did you know he— it was completely irritated with you and your lack of mobility. As you remained frozen on the soaked, cold ground, while your eyes stared upwards to him, you didn’t expect him to let out a grunt before walking past you. You watch his dark figure walk towards a house behind you, he climbs up the steps with a slight limp before ramming the door open with his shoulder and walking inside. Something you definitely, definitely were not expecting. In fact, you were so confused, speechless and shocked that you remained sprawled on the floor, the heavy rain still pouring down on you.

This was beyond a fucking weird and odd night for you. However, after a long minute, you get to your feet, but you stand your ground. Your eyes darting from the opened door of the home, to down the dark, cold, pouring street, then down the street you came from. You contemplated whether you should just run, again, or… No!! That’s a terrible idea!! It’s a trap! The moment you step foot into that house he’ll just launch at you!!

The voice argues in your head as you stay standing outside in the rain. You had such wild options right now that neither of them sounded safe or great. However, the option was made for you when you hear a loud shrieking noise echoing down the dark street. Can this night get any worse? Instantly your feet are moving to the house. Yet, just as you stand on the front porch of the rundown home, your eyes squint to get a glimpse of inside the death trap, but sigh heavily when darkness is all you can see. Your eyes then scan outside, trying to see if you can find anything of use to protect yourself with, but only thing you find are pieces of rotten planks of wood that looked like they’d snap on the first hit.

So with no other option, you slowly step inside the home. Your eyes trying to see through the darkness, luckily, the moon was bright enough to cast some sort of light through the broken down windows, but it still didn’t calm your nerves. Upon entering the home, the first thing that welcomes you is the stench of dusty, murky old walls, then a flight of stairs that lead upstairs. On your left, laid a destroyed den with rotten couches that have been flipped upside down, books, glass littered the ground, then to your right you assumed was the living room since you got a glimpse of some more couches. You weren’t able to fully get a view since the sound of heavy footsteps climbing down the stairs jolts your body to action mode.

Your hands curl as you prepare yourself for what’s to come. Your eyes never leaving the dark, tall figure slowly coming down the steps. Thick silence surrounds the both of you when he finally stops at the end of the stairs, your gazes locked on each other, that’s until the dead gives a grunt before slowly turning to walk to the right, entering the living room. Again, just like outside you watch him leave with tightly knitted brows, confusion once clouding your mind. This is definitely the most weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced. You stood there, not sure of what you should do next. Your eyes then look up the steps, a debate running in your head. It was simple, either go up, lock yourself in a room and try to catch some sleep— if that ever happens— or remain downstairs to keep a close eye on his.. intentions. Although, you were convinced on what exactly his intentions were.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes passing, a cold, uncomfortable shiver runs down your spine, making you decide in heading upstairs. You slowly walk up the steps, keeping your gaze locked behind you in case he decides to attack you from the back. Your priority wasn’t on checking upstairs for any other of his brain eating friends, you had assumed upstairs was clear since you didn’t hear any commotion upon entering the home and had seen him coming from upstairs. With a ridiculous thought, you assumed he had checked the whole house before you had stepped inside.

It was such a dumb thought that it even caused a scoff out of you as you continue making your way up the home. Your steps causing the old staircase to groan under your weight. Once up the second floor, you scan your surroundings until they settle on a door on the far end of the floor. You quickly make your way inside the room and shut the door behind you. It didn’t have a lock. Fucking perfect, but you did see a desk near the window, so with quick steps you walk towards it before dragging it towards the door with heavy grunts. You make sure to jam it right under the doorknob, it wasn’t much but you knew it’d keep him from entering while you slept. Or at least tried to get some sleep.

More time had passed by. After getting a better look of the room you chose, you realized it must’ve belonged to a male in his mid twenties, possibly in his thirties. Old playboy, alternative rock band posters hung on the walls, a mess of papers, old shoes, clothes, books, CD cases, was displayed on the wooden floor. Once discarding your wet clothes and managing to find dry clothes that shockingly fit you, which was another pair of dark jeans and a faded grey AC/DC t-shirt, you checked your injured arm. The bullet was lodged between your flesh, making it a bitch to pull out you eventually remove the piece of metal with some old scissors you found.

Definitely wasn’t sanitary nor was it not painful but what other choice did you have? After semi bandaging your arm with some shirts you finally settled under the covers.

You didn’t exactly fall asleep right away, your mind was on high alert to even let your eyes close. Every little noise you’d hear it’d sent a wave of paranoia, causing you to grip onto the wooden baseball bat you had found somewhere in the room. The paranoia never ceased, especially when you’d hear movement coming from downstairs, reminding you that you were in fact not alone.

Sleep and exhaustion does eventually force you into sleep. Little noise would often wake you, but those eventually drifted away in the air as sleep overtook you. You just prayed to god, if there is a god, that you’d wake up in the morning.

And if you did. You’d gladly escape with the first chance you’d get.

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-> Aahhhhhhhh After 3 Long Months!!!! It’s Finally Here!!!!! I Have Been Working On This One Back & Forth!!

-> Like I Said, This Is By Far The Longest Fic I’ve Ever Written. I think I Usually Always Stop Around 9k Words But This Is Definitely My Longest Yet! 😭

-> I Really Do Hope Y’all Liked This One Because… I’ve Worked On It For So Long 🙃

-> But Anyways, It’s Finally Yours To Read! Give It Some Love, Share Your Thoughts Much Love To Ya’ll & Expect More Chapters To This Mini Series! 🫶🫶

-> Turn On Post Notifications!! For More Updates!!! 🔔

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