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South Koreans men want to boycott Oasis concerts because the Gallaghers are⊠feminists?
O novo cancelamento do Oasis estĂĄ vindo da Ăsia, mais precisamente da Coreia do Sul, e novamente Ă© um cancelamento por um motivo absurdo: EstĂŁo "acusando" os irmĂŁos Gallagher de serem feministas!
Simplesmente vĂĄrios perfis de homens coreanos no twitter estĂŁo querendo boicotar o show do Oasis no paĂs (que nem sequer foi confirmado!) por conta de antigas declaraçÔes de Noel e Liam onde eles se diziam ser homens feministas!
Felizmente muitas mulheres coreanas estĂŁo debochando desse "boicote" e comemorando que agora elas terĂŁo mais chances de comprar ingressos đ
Leia a matéria completa aqui.
Isso me lembra que Noel disse que no começo do Oasis, o pĂșblico nos shows era majoritariamente feminino e sĂł depois que homens passaram a ser a maioria, e Noel sempre deixou claro que nĂŁo gostava e nem entendia essa maioria masculina entre os fĂŁs.
O Oasis também devem tudo a banda Sister Lover. Formada apenas por mulheres, foram elas que levaram o Oasis para se apresentar no King Tut's na Escócia e mudou pra sempre o destino do Oasis! O dono do King Tut's não sabia da ida do Oasis e não queria deixar a banda se apresentar, mas as meninas do Sister Lover bateram o pé e disseram que se o Oasis não se apresentassem, elas também não iriam se apresentar! Graças a essa pressão da banda, o Oasis pode se apresentar no King Tut's diante de Alan McGee, o que rendeu ao Oasis um contrato com a Creation Records, e o resto é história...
Também noto que atualmente o fandom do Oasis em vårias redes sociais, mas principalmente no twitter, tiktok e aqui no tumblr é majoritariamente feminino!
Machistas e misĂłginos podem chorar a vontade, Oasis sempre foi uma banda de garotas đ
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World's Okayest Sister Funny Best Sister Gift T-Shirt
Get yours styles: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/47630154-worlds-okayest-sister-funny-best-sister-gift
#worlds okayest#worlds#okayest#worlds okayest sister#big sister#sister shirt#sister gift#gift for sister#sister lover#love sister#sister gift ideas#best sister ever#best sister#proud sister#crazy sister#awesome sister#family matching#family reunion#family#promoted to big sister#new sister#vintage#retro#tshirt#humor#bday#birthday
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+ bonus:
#cr downfall#exu downfall#critical role#cr spoilers#mygifs#criticalroleedit#critteredit#downfalledit#noshir dalal#brennan lee mulligan#nick marini#asha#the emirssary#the wildmother#melora#tishar#gruumsh#tfw when you're third wheeling on your sister and her lover's proxy#nick too quick with it#listen dont look at the font in the fourth gif weirdly being different#i only noticed when i put it together#and im not redoing it im sahrry#imagine father milo put it there for the bit#c3e100#taliesin jaffe
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warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tylerâs sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader
summary: the three time you see storm parâs one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.
authorâs note: look at me, finally writing something again! Iâve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. Iâve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fansâ I havenât forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)
the first time youâd seen scott, youâd wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.
âget lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?â
his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tylerâs truck.
your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.
âthe fuck is your problem?â you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.
âyou look like youâre going to a fuckinâ business meeting.â you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.
perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.
you had been away at college when tylerâs tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. youâd always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.
until now, that is. now that youâve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.
âdonât mind storm par over there,â comes your brotherâs drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. âthe stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. youâll get used to it,â tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.
"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.
"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.
"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."
you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.
"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.
the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."
"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"
"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.
"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.
"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"
the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.
"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."
the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.
"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.
"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.
"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tylerâs face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.
tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.
"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.
"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.
"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.
"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."
tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.
"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.
as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.
you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.
"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.
you shrug. "just havin' fun."
the third time you see scott, he saves your life.
it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. youâd caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed heâd finally grown tired of your constant teasing.
you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.
and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.
"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.
"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.
"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.
what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.
"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."
boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.
"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."
"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.
"ty, I mean it."
rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.
tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.
he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.
a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.
"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.
"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.
fuck, the others-
"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.
"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.
"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.
you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.
"c'mon, get up!"
everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.
"get up!"
your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.
"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.
the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-
your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-
fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?
your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.
you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.
"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.
"boone?!"
"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out windowâ which is upside down.
you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.
âcan you move?â the voice says. you canât tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.
âI-â you start, pushing your chest against the harness. âI think so.â
âgood,â you recognize it as a manâs voice. âthen hurry the fuck up and get out!â
under different circumstances, you wouldâve scoffed at the order, but now wasnât the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didnât get to shelter before the tornado engulfed youâ
well, you didnât want to think about that.
you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.
the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.
âany day now!â the man calls, and you canât help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.
âim trying!â you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you canât afford to give into the pain at the moment.
you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.
âitâs stuck!â you call out, hoping the man can hear you. âI canât get out!â
your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.
you donât want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.
but you donât want anyone else to die, either.
youâre stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isnât. he should run while he canâ
âhold on!â youâre jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and thatâs when you register your savior.
itâs him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.
heâs crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. âIâve got you,â he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, thereâs no look of disdain. thereâs thinly veiled terror.
âyou need to leave me,â you tell him, and you canât tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain thatâs now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.
âshut the fuck up,â he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.
âim serious,â you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. âI canât feel my right sideââ
âwill you shut up? please?â he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.
you fall silent, but not because youâre heeding his demands. no, youâre too busy examining his face. heâs never been this close to you, and youâre taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.
canât blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?
âstop staring at me,â he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although heâs freeing it inch by inch, youâre not sure ifâ
the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.
he doesnât say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you canât bring yourself to look down.
âim gonna pull you out, okay?â he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier nowâ harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.
agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesnât stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.
âyou need to leave me,â you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. âim not going to be able to walk. Iâll just slow you downââ
âjesus christ, you donât listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.â
he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once youâre free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legsâ fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you canât even see a foot in front of you, let alone where heâs taking you.
lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. itâs got to be an EF4 by nowâ maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.
âdrop me!â you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.
if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.
with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you donât even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.
âis she alright?â a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.
ânot the time!â the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch booneâs over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. booneâs lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.
the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. thereâs nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, youâll both be goners.
you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fearâ but it never comes.
you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.
âare we alive?â your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the manâs chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. heâs not an imaginationâ heâs real. youâre still here.
âyes,â his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.
you donât say anything for a moment. and then,
âyouâre the stupidest son of a bitch Iâve ever met.â
his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first timeâ at least, that youâve seenâ and he chuckles.
the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tylerâs voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he isâ your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.
âoh, thank god,â he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.
âyou took the worst of it. those storm par pricksââ his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. âhit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, butââ
âty,â you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. âitâs okay. im okay. weâre okay.â
tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.
âIâve had worse,â you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.
ânowâs not the time to play hero,â your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your saviorâs once more. heâs standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.
âguess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.â tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.
âty,â you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunetteâs. âignore my brother. thank you for saving my lifeâŠ.â you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you donât know his name.
âscott.â he tells you. you nod.
âthank you, scott.â
he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.
just as youâre about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.
maybe storm par isnât so bad after all.
#twisters#twisters film#twisters fanfic#scott twisters#scott from twisters#scott miller#scott miller x reader#scott twisters x reader#tyler owens#Tyler Owens!sister!reader#enemies to friends to lovers#enemies to lovers#david corenswet#David corenswet x reader#twisters oneshot#David corenswet oneshot#David corenswet fic#twisters 2024#twisters 2024 oneshot#glen powell#daisy edgar jones#anthony ramos#oneshot#one shot
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đđđđđđđđ, đđđđđđđ đ.
SUMMARY, youâve had made peace with yourself knowing that youâd be a spinster for the rest of your life, so that you could take care of your little sibling, such as because they see you as their mother. Who would have thought just because you tagged along with your twin brother to an invited vacation, youâd meet your future husband who suffered the same responsibility?
MASTERLIST , đord count, 6.6K
đandles were the main light source to guide you through the dark halls of your home when your younger brothers had nightmares. Your hand was rather larger than theirs, but you still let their tiny fingers lead you to their room. Speaking about how in their nightmare it was a night roaring with thunder and you and your twin brother were nowhere to be seen. Â
You hush them to sleep, raking your fingers through their hair and letting their unconscious body cling to yours. While tucking them in again, you hear the door open slightly. âA nightmare?â Oliver spoke out, making you soften your gaze on him. âIt is like they were there when Mother died.â You sigh as you ruffle one of the twin's hair.Â
âThey are haunted by the night they were born.â You frown, simply because this wasnât the first they came crying into your room about the horrid dream they had. Oliver seemed to sense your stress and took you away from the twin's room. âWe simply canât do anything about it sister, but try to raise them differently.â He sighed.Â
It had been years since your mother's death, and you took the responsibility to take care of your younger brothers. Her cause of death was because of them, having no choice but to be cut open and die bleeding while hugging her causes. Your mother huffed as she gave you her final orders as a mother before dying.Â
Her death was heartbreaking and the one who took it to heart was your father. He died a week after from a broken heart, leaving your brother to be the new lord of the family, and you the lady of the house until your brother married.Â
You were presented to society as requested by your aunt, but when no suitors understood your desire to raise your brothers, you simply didnât marry. You were a spinster to society and a mother figure to your siblings.Â
âI donât know Oliver, I hate seeing them suffer.â You walk into his study and sit yourself down, him following your actions. âYou seem to grow the senses of a mother, sister.â Oliver smiled and sighed until he remembered something from earlier today. âIâve received an invitation from one of my old friends, they invited us to their countryside home, where they will host a ball soon.â He looked over, catching how this took all of your attention.Â
âIt would be nice, you and the boys would love some vacation, especially you since you're the one who needs it the most.â You stood up and smiled, taking your shawl and covering yourself once again walking straight to the door. âSo itâs a yes?â Oliver asked making you laugh lightly and then nodding. âOf course Oliver, who am I to deny you of relaxation?âÂ
He laughed lightly before watching you walk away to finally sleep, and he returned to his desk to do his duties.Â
Youâve noticed it had been quite some time since you were in the countryside, and seeing Aubrey Hall was quite astonishing when you first saw it. Thomas and Richard bounced excitedly when they saw the house, blabbering about how it was gorgeous and humongous. âYou must act like gentlemen while you are here, well-mannered and respectful.â You told them watching as they nodded furiously and repeated âYes big sister!â over and over.Â
When the carriage stopped you saw the Bridgerton family spill out of the front door, lining up to greet your family. Once you stepped out someone called your last name out, making you look up to see an older man smiling at your brother. âClarke!âÂ
âBridgerton!â Your brother smiled and shook the man's hand, then hugged for a second before he introduced his family. âDear friend, Iâm quite hurt you wouldnât invite me to your wedding nor tell me you had a family..â Anthony spoke, making you laugh at the face Oliver made. âMy Lord, youâre mistaken, Iâm Oliver's sister, and these are our siblings Thomas and Richard.â You smile at his bewildered face.Â
âMy Apologies.â Anthony ducked his head, making you chuckle and dismay the mistake. âPlease do join us for tea!â Violet smiled at the four of you, gladly being invited in.Â
You were astonished by their home, it seemed like a wonderful place to grow up in. The tea room was more beautiful as you sat with Oliver on one of the sofas. âMother, can we go out and play in the garden with Thomas and Richard?â You learned that the youngest Bridgerton siblings were Hycinth and Gregory, somewhat the same age as Thomas and Richard. âOf course, if it all right with their older siblings.â Violet looked over for your permission.Â
âSister, can we? Please!â Richard came up to you, right behind him was Thomas talking to Hycinth. You look over to Oliver, and he nods and allows it. âYou may, but donât cause trouble!â You spoke, and automatically they thanked you and promised nothing but good deeds.Â
Violet smiles at your motherly aura, making you smile back at her when you catch her staring. The moment was wonderful and not long after dinner was being served, that was when you separated yourself to find your little siblings. A servant leading you outside to them, you were about to call out to them until a voice behind you did it for you. âEveryone, time for dinner!â
You looked behind your shoulder to find Anthony behind you, he instantly looked at you. âThank you, My Lord.â You bowed your head, you were about to leave until he spoke. âI hope you do forgive me about earlier.â He said, you raised an eyebrow a bit confused. âAbout what My lord?â You asked before turning your head and looking for Richard and Thomas, they were running straight at you. âAbout me mistaking you for Oliver's wife,â Anthony confessed.Â
You smiled softly before yelling at the boys not to run inside, again turning over towards him. âDonât worry about it, My lord.â You laugh lightly before you watch him offer his arm, making you confused once again. âAllow me to show you where dinner is held..â He smiled, and you once again smiled out of kindness, before taking his hand.Â
You flinch awake when you feel someone slip under your bedsheet, making you peek your eyes open. Only to find Thomas sniffling his tears, making you well aware of what was happening. Thomas was always the most sensitive one out of the twins, he was a soft boy who was very kind. âThomas, what happened?â You whisper, caressing your hand on his cheek, wiping his tears away.Â
âI had a nightmare again.â He sniffled, he was visibly shaken up. His night clothes were crinkled, his hair was ruffled and some parts were drenched in sweat. His blue eyes were puffed and his nose was snotty, making your heartache.Â
You turn over in your bed and light up the side candle on your night table, the dim light making everything around it glow a soft light. You push the duvets and blankets away and put on your slippers, walking inside the bathroom to the side of it. Thomas sat up and grew shy, were you mad at him?
âCâmere Thomas, we donât want you going to bed all sweaty.â You came back in the room with a damp towel, rubbing it along his hair, trying to clean up the sweat off his hair and neck. âLay down.â You told him before going into the bathroom again. When you came back, the towel was damp again but this time you placed it around his face, hoping the cold towel would calm him down.Â
You sit beside him on the bed, pulling your knees towards you. âWhat was your nightmare about?â You asked softly when you uttered those words, you could feel him tense around you. âYou can talk to me when youâre ready if itâs too hard, for now, we can just be in each other presence.â You run your fingers in his hair, feeling him ease up.Â
After a few minutes he talked, but his words trembled like he was about to say something wrong but spoke. âI saw Mother, in my dream.â He said, just now leaning a bit more into your side. âShe was with Papa, and you. She was cradling you in her arms, saying how you were doing a good job.â He sniffled, closing his eyes trying to remember again.Â
âThen everything sort of started to disappear, she kept saying how it was time for you to join them, and she disappeared again and left you crying.â Tears swelled in his eyes, trembling. âDo you miss Mother and Father, sister?â He looked up at you, making you bite your tongue, not wanting to cry in front of him. âOf course I do.â You swallow the sadness down. âDo you hate me for taking them away?â
âThomas, never say such words.â You spoke calmly at him, making him look away. âYou are my brother and I must take care of youâMother told me it was my final order as a big sister.â You told him. âEveryone is destined to go somewhere they might return from, it was simply their time to go.â You stated.Â
âYou wonât leave us alone, right sister?â Thomas looked at you, his gaze holding hope and fear. âNever, Iâll be by your side until you are big enough not to need me all the time.â You smiled at his foolish question. âI think, Iâll always need you here with me sister.â He murmured, finally closing his eyes.Â
As he falls asleep in your bed, you canât help but sigh. Â
Candles were the main light source to guide you through the dark halls of the Bridgerton house, taking a peek inside your brother's guest room. Only to find the bed still neatly made, so you wandered around until you heard soft laughter in the Billard room. You peek in, seeing your Brother playing pool with Anthony. Colin and Benedict drinking on the side, chatting between themselves, and drowning in smoke.
Your soft knock on the door startles them, making their eyes stare at the door. âSister?â Oliver looked at you confused. You smiled nervously before talking âSorry to interrupt but I need your help.â You say. âWhat with?â He asked, more confused than the first. âIt is Thomas.â With that, your brother is hastily walking towards you.Â
âHe had another nightmare, he is drenched in sweat.â You whispered at him, eyeing him and the Bridgerton brothers who stood quite confused. âDid something happen, should I send for a doctor?â Anthony was the first to speak out. You and Oliver looked at each other and communicated with your eyes.Â
âNo, our brother is simply hogging my bed.â You smiled softly at him, before pulling your brother's sleeve. âAgain, sorry to interrupt, have a good night gentleman.â You bow your head down, before walking out of the room. âIâll be right back.â Oliver excused himself.Â
After you left, the band of brothers looked at each other âWhat do you think that was about?â Benedict asked, making Colin think. âPerhaps the boy simply has an attachment issue?â The two brothers keep talking but the elder one is still glancing at the place where you stood. He knew the look you gave to your brother meant something, something he knew about.Â
It was simply the same look his mother gave him when she needed to carry the young ones to bed because she alone couldnât pick them up. As he stood there in thought, he started to think more. You were similar to his mother, giving the same comfort around other people. You gave those boys so much motherly love, just like his mother did with him and his brothers.Â
âPerhaps she is just a mother figure to those boys.â Anthony simply said, taking a sip of his liquor. Benedict and Colin brushed him off and continued talking, they wouldnât get it anyway. A figure will always recognize another.Â
The sun playfully peaked through the blue curtains, making your eyes flutter open slowly. You hum as you let your body wake up, stretching to each corner of your guest bed. You felt amazing like you just gotten the best rest of your life, instantly placing you in a good mood.Â
You have gotten yourself ready for today, wearing a light purple dress and placing your hair down, showing off its length. You smiled at the thought of having a peaceful morning in this gorgeous country home, simply sitting near the garden, enjoying the morning breeze and a book.Â
You slip out of your room and walk downstairs.Â
Anthony flinched, hearing floorboards creaking in his home. He could feel the house become alive but could hear someone speak to others. He wondered who it could be since he was usually the first one up. He sighed and shuffled out of his bedsheets, peaking out of his view of the backyard, only to see you sitting with a book in your hand.Â
He wondered what you were doing, he could only slowly start waking up while looking at you. Should he join you for tea? He asked himself, before making his mind up and doing so.Â
He slowly shuffled out of his trousers and slipped into his clothes of the day, then walked out of his room. The morning staff greeted him, and he then ordered him to bring tea outside where you were, they quickly did what they were ordered to do.Â
You got startled when a soft âgood morning.â spoke out towards you, making you look behind and see who was responsible. âAh, Good morning, My lord.â You smiled while standing up, and curtsying towards him. âPlease, May I join you?â Anthony smiled, gesturing to the free seat, in which you nodded.Â
âHow was your night? Was everything to your liking?â He asked, making you place a bookmark on your book. âEverything was perfect, you shouldnât worry.â You smiled, noticing a maid coming up and serving tea. âIf you donât mind me asking, was everything alright yesterday night?â Anthony questioned.Â
You looked at him as you were going in to sip tea, and you placed it down softly. âThomas is a compassionate boy, he gets scared easily, and he has recurring nightmares.â You tell him, catching how worried he looks. âHe sneaks into my room, simply seeking comfort.â After that, you take a sip out of your tea.Â
Anthony nodded, he could only think of how many times he had to help his Mother with Hycinth and Eloise, and sometimes Daphne. âSeems like our duty as older siblings.â He said with a soft smile, making you look at him. âHow are your siblings? Are they well-behaved, or perhaps chaotic?â You smiled when he sat up in his chair.Â
âThey are way different from yours, they are bipolar, and they switch moods mostly all the time.â He smiles, bringing his teacup up to his lips. âEspecially Hycinth and Gregory, those two are always at it.â He sighed into the cup before sipping his tea. âRichard and Thomas are sweet boys, they donât like causing trouble.â You laughed at the thought.Â
âMiss Clarke, I find it honorable what you are doing.â Anthony smiled softly at you, making you tilt your head. âOf what, My lord?â Your eyes glued right at his, trying to study his expression. When you get the idea of what he is saying, you place your teacup down. âMy Lord, It is simply our duty as older siblings.â You smile softly. âWe must provide our younger siblings with emotional and physical security.âÂ
His breath hitched as he looked at you. You had worded his thoughts perfectly like you knew what he was thinking. âMorning.â You both turn over to see Benedict stretching as Colin and Oliver come downstairs, and you simply smile at the three. âMorning gentlemen, I hope after all the fun you had yesterday night you rested well.â Benedict nodded happily, thanking you and sitting right next to you, popping a light biscuit in his mouth.Â
âDo not worry Sister, after I won a game of pool against Colin, we simply went to sleep.â Oliver ruffled your hair, and in return, you smiled at him. âYes, do not worry Miss Clarke, after your brother finally won a game against me, he quickly retreated to bed.â Colin corrected Oliver, making you giggle. Amid your conversation with the other three, Anthony kept looking at you quietly.Â
How was it that you clicked so easily with his siblings? You were at most a natural when it came to socializing with others, easily joining the conversation you were immediately included in. You did your duty as the Lady of the house quite easily, while you helped your brother with paperwork and money problems. You were about everything he was trying to be or be with.Â
âBreakfast is ready, My lord.â A maid called out, making him snap out of his thoughts. âShall we?â He smiled and walked inside, making the rest walk inside. As he walked into the main area, he could see the boys running toward you and your brother. âBrother, Sister! Good morning.â Richard jumped into Oliver's hands, while the boy ruffled his hair. Thomas on the other hand grabbed your hand and smiled, making you caress his cheek.Â
During breakfast, out of the corner of his eye. He could see you acting motherly towards them, making him intrigued, and have some questions.Â
Then again during tea time, you were sowing back up one of Richard's handkerchiefs, touching the fabric up. Richard read out loud with you, while you corrected him on some words.Â
His last thought was seeing you play with them, running in the green field in front of Aubrey Hall, right in front of his study, he stretched, needing a break, and as if Benedict heard his wishes, he came into his study. âBrother, do join us for pallmall.â His tilted smile was on full display.Â
Anthony walked downstairs to find his whole family waiting, huddling around the rack filled with different colored mallets. He saw you crouched down, holding your finger out towards Thomas and Hycinth whose eyes widened as you told them that the insect on your finger was a butterfly.Â
âSister, will you be joining us?â Oliver asked you, letting the butterfly fly away and making the children run after it. âIâm playing with Thomas and Hycinth! Perhaps another day!â You smiled lightly seeing a pout on your brother's face.Â
Anthony felt his hands sweat, just as you uttered those words, a gold ray of the sun landed on your skin. Making him utterly mesmerized by your image, then leaving him clenching his first tightly as you ran towards the children, making the wind an actor as it runs itself through your long hair.Â
It shined rightly under the sun, he couldâve mistaken you for a fairy. Benedict pushed him out of his thoughts and ushered him to play the game.
That night Anthony felt strange as he laid in his bed, absolutely devoured by the thought of you. What was going on with him? He was high with the sound of your sweet voice, your smile, and your kindness. He wanted to entangle his finger in your hair, he wanted you to caress his face.Â
He groaned, why was this happening to him? Just when he puts love off to the side, his heart starts to throb for someone. Was it wrong as well? You were his friend's younger sister. He huffs as he stands up once again, he shivers at the thought of you running your hands behind him, wrapping them around his waist. Was he mad? Was he insane? He shouldnât be thinking about you.Â
He walked towards his study until he saw a dim light in the library that was connected to his study. âWho is in here?â He spoke out and like his thoughts were heard about someone, you stood still there, like you were deer caught while hunting. âSorry, am I not supposed to be in here?â You went still, watching as Anthony walked in laughing a bit. âNo, Do not worry, you are allowed to be here.â He chuckled as he saw your grip loosed on your shawl.Â
âYou gave me quite the scare, My lord.â You laughed breathlessly before pushing the book back in its place. You looked at Anthony who kept looking at you, making you nervous. âYou have a beautiful library, it puts mine to shame.â You grabbed a book that you recognized easily, sliding it off the shelf.
"It was my late fathers, he took pride in his collection, we say Eloise got that habit from him.â He walked towards you, a good arm's length away, looking down at the book you were holding.Â
âPride and Prejudice?â He smiled, making you nod scanning the book cover. âA lovely love story, both of the characters overcoming pride and prejudice and surrendering to love each other.â You hum out, handing the book to him. âI rather think itâs quite aggravating.â Antony hummed out, looking up to see your reaction.Â
âOh, why do you find it âaggravatingâ?â You asked directly giving him your attention. âIt bothers me how much they deny each other, and how she canât see heâs being a gentleman.â He mutters placing the book back, falling a bit weak in his knees when your eyes examine him. You find it amusing, and to show it you it, you giggle. âWell, itâs romantic when a man is desperate for a woman's love.â You walked away towards the window.Â
Anthony watched as you walked away from him, he felt the cold brush his skin where your warmth was. âMs. Clarke, do you have a husband?â Anthony said, making you look at him surprised. âSorry, I overstep.â Anthony walked towards the door leading to his study, what was wrong with him?Â
âI donât have a husband.â You chuckled as you saw his shoulders ease, walking his way. âIt is rather hard to find one who understands my circumstance.â You expressed your displeasure, making him look at you directly. âIt feels like most men have one goal, and that is to expand their lineage. I, however, want to take of the family I already have.â You smiled softly as you stood there an arm's length away...
âAfter my parents passed, I felt a heavy burden to take care of my three brothers. Oliver might seem like the older one but Iâm older by three minutes.â You giggled before sighing heavily.Â
âIâve helped manage our household, managing our finances with Oliver, taught them many activities, helped with their studies, having to be there for the three of them.â You tear up just a little, never being able to dump your feelings. âIâd gladly be their support pillar, and to take care of them.â You smiled.Â
âI love my brothers dearly, such as you do for your siblings, but mine are still immature with no guide in their lifeâIâd rather raise them to be gentlemen and make other young girls happy than to find love, Iâve made peace with it and if someone understood that, Iâd gladly treasure them back.â You expressed truthfully.Â
Anthony felt like he had overstepped greatly but he couldnât help but feel for you. Making him look at you with understanding eyes. âHow did your parents die?â He asked, regretting how your expression turned into hurt from remembering unpleasant memories.Â
âUm, my Mother died during childbirth, having to be cut open to get Thomas out after Richard, she died bleeding while holding him. A week later my Father died of a broken heart, he couldnât live without my mother.â You blinked some tears away before wiping them away. You both stood there in silence until you spoke again. âHow did your father die?â You asked him.Â
You could see him close his eyes and exhale heavily âHe was stung by a bee.â He looked at you somewhat humbled. âTo see my Father who was a great man, be killed by a small creature is humbling.â He sarcastically said before feeling comfortable with you.Â
The air took a shift as he saw you studying him more deeply, then looking at him with a gaze that allured him towards you. It seemed like the only thing you two could do was convey feeling through your eyes. He leaned in closer, making you lean in as well.Â
âWhat if I understood you?â You turn over inhaling at how close he was. You looked up at his eyes they looked at you desperately, and you looked down nervously. You flush as you see his chest through his sheer nightshirt. âI fear that I understand you far too well.â You looked so small under him, so flushed, so captivating.Â
âWhat are you saying?â You looked up at him and god did he want to kiss your lips. He cursed himself for looking at you with those thoughts, and it didnât help when your collarbone was visible, nor the line where your breast started. Your doe eyes looking at him so confused, as your lips parted to speak again.Â
This time your mouth was left open as nothing came out of it, making him turn his head over lining your lips with his but not placing them on you. You felt confused, you wanted to set your lips on his but didnât and it was eating you up alive. Your breath hitched as you felt his hands pull yours forward, it felt like he was pulling your heart making it pound.Â
You felt right as he showed you the most vulnerable side of his you've seen, you allowed yourself to brush your lips against his slightly. Allowing him to feel the slight texture of your plum lips, making his breath hitch. You pulled away after gaining a reaction from him. âThis isnât right, Iââ You shook your head feeling a heavy feeling in your heart. âPlease..â Anthony felt his cold heart begging to be warmed up.Â
âI-I shall bid you good night.â You turned away, breath trembling as you pulled your shawl over you tightly. You were glancing at him one more time before leaving the room hastily, feeling the cool air on your flushed skin.Â
On your third day in Aubrey Hall, Violet was going to a ball. It was an annual ball apparently, and you were their honorable guests. You told your brothers that they were to stay put with Hycinth and Gregory since they were still too young to be out during balls.Â
Your ladymaid helped you slip on a royal blue dress made of silk that complemented your figure. The dress has beautiful detailing, little flowers that trail to the back of the dress, and a beautiful bow on the back that turns into a nice small train. With a nice halfway-up hairstyle and large curls flowing down, your mother's jewelry was the final touch.Â
You thank the ladymaid as she smiles and begins to clean up the space, you leave the room to walk towards your brothers. You knock on his assigned guest room, which was partly shared with your little brothers, just a wall separating them. Richard whipped the door open and smiled big âSister!â He engulfed you in a tight hug.Â
âRichie! What are you doing here?â You laugh as he drags you inside, making Thomas run towards you and hug you as well, âWe are helping Oliver get ready!â Thomas butted in before analyzing your dress. âSister you look beautiful!â Thomas and Richard spit out in unison, making Oliver glance over.Â
âI must say, Sister, the color rather suits you better than me,â Oliver muttered as he walked towards you, giving you his carvat indicating he was having trouble putting it on. âNonsense, it looks fine on you.â You easily put his cravat on, making him huff. âMy future sister better knows how to put these on or youâre going to be in lots of trouble.â You giggled as he gave you a look.Â
âAre we getting another sister soon?â Richard said excitedly, Thomas right behind him with joyful eyes. âIâve told you I donât want to get married this season.âOliver shrugged on his waistcoat that was matching your dress, butting it up.
âPlease I have a feeling youâll meet your future bride at this ball brother!â You say excitedly, making him pout and look at you. âWhat about our new brother? Are you going to get married soon?â Oliver asked.
You freeze, and the thought of you and Anthony yesterday night pops up in your mind. Making you flush red and shy, and this didnât go unnoticed by Oliver. âSister, have you made a match?â Oliver buttoned up the last of his buttons and rushed to your side. You clear your throat, looking away from the boys who cornered you. âI have not.â You walked away, and suddenly Thomas hugged your legs and Richard your waist, making you stop in your tracks.Â
Oliver picked you up making you squeal at the sudden movements, then plopped you down on a chair. âSister, do you like someone?â Thoma questioned you, making Oliver and Richard eye you. âWhy are you asking me that?!â You asked a bit flushed. âWe just you to be happy sister.â Richard expressed, making the other two boys nod. You looked at them sincerely, making them continue.
âWe want you to be with a husband that will take care of you, just like you took care of us.â Richard told you, âYou deserve a happy ending sister, youâve done so much.â Oliver held a hand towards you, making you stand up.Â
âBut if I do so, youâll be alone, I donât wish for that.â You start to tear up, making the three boys offer you their handkerchiefs, you laugh lightly, and they offer the handkerchiefs you made for them. âWe are big boys sister, either way, you wonât leave us forever right? Youâll visit us!â Thomas exclaimed making you breathe out.Â
âI donât think I can leave you all alone.â You told them, making them huff. Oliver finished up getting ready, and you ushered the boys into the nursery where the younger Bridgerton siblings sat. You meet Oliver at the top of the stairs, grabbing his arm as he guides you both to the bottom, where the elder Bridgerton siblings chat amongst themselves.Â
Anthony broke his chatter with Daphne who kept talking, looking at you with your astonishment as you walked down the stairs. You two were talking to Benedict and Eloise as they broke apart from their family to speak to you. âSister! Let me introduce you to our guest.â Anthony smiled as Daphne nodded along.Â
âMay I introduce you to Lord Clarke and his sister, Ms. Clarke.â Daphne smiled as she saw you crusty and your brother bow. âThis is our sister Daphne, Duchess of Hastings.â Making your eyes twinkle. âA pleasure to meet you two, my brother talked about you two, all nice things of course.â She smiled.Â
âYour Grace, it is an honor to meet you.â You give her a delighted smile, making her giggle. âPlease I have every intention of becoming friends with you, let us walk around?â Daphne offered her hand, making you smile at your brother, and walked away with her.Â
âYou talked about us?â Oliver looked at Anthony who kept his gaze on you, then broke away to look at him. âOf course, Iâm trying to find you a wife.â He told him, making him scoff. âYou and my sister are forcing me to find a wifeâit is like you two are meant to be with all this pushing.â Oliver walked into the ballroom.Â
As the ball began, you walked around talking to some ladies who gladly let you join them. You were quite the social butterfly, making you tired of talking sometimes. You excused yourself, wanting a beverage and looking for your brother. You watched as he flushed over the words of a young lady, making you smile.Â
âBrother, enjoy your night?â You butt in, making him look at you. âAh sister, yes! Let me introduce you two, Miss. Blackwood my sister.â Oliver smiled at the young brunette, not going unnoticed by you. âHello, a pleasure to meet you.â You smile, making the young girl flush. âLikewise, If you donât mind me asking, are you twins?â She hid her face behind her fan, making you giggle. âYes, we are a set of twins,â Oliver confirms.Â
âYou are most fortunate to have a sibling.â She said, talking about how she had no siblings at the moment. âAre you very fond of children, Miss Blackwood?â You question her and she nods. âI love children! Whenever Iâm in the country, I usually play with my cousin's kids.â She smiled.
âThen you might enjoy our other brother's presence!â You told her, making her confused. âAh you see, just like me and my sister are twins, we also have little twin brothers, their names are Richard and Thoma.â Oliverâs smile grew fond of the thought of them. âOh, Iâd love to meet them.â She giggled.Â
Anthony glanced at you every time he heard you laugh, wanting nothing but to walk over there and talk to you. Although this persistent mama denied him of doing so, his mother saw his inpatients. âAnthony! I need to talk to you!â She ushered him away, grabbing his arm in the process. âDearest why are you making that face?â Violet spoke.Â
âYou must seem content in front of these guests, and talking about guests why havenât you asked our guests to dance?â She scolded him before he could talk, making him frown. âMother I was about to ask Ms. Clarke to dance but I simply got caught up with some people.â He reassured her, making her nod.Â
âWhere is she?â Violet looked around, making him do so as well. Anthony excused himself with his mother, making his way toward Oliver who was still chatting with Ms. Blackwood. âOliver, have you seen your sister?âAnthony excused himself for interrupting their conversation. Oliver looked at him a bit confused but replied âShe is checking up on Thomas and Richard, I think.â Oliver told him.Â
Anthony nodded and walked away, leaving the ball unnoticed and quietly. He walked up the stairs making his way to the nursery. Just as he turned the hallway, you walked out. In your hands a tired Richard, who you struggling to carry, and a very sleepy Thomas. âThomas love, please stay awake so we can change you for bed.â You ruffle his hair and readjust Richard on your hip.Â
You gasp as you feel someone grab Richard from your arms, and it shocked you when it was The Viscount. âMy lord, you donât have to!â You say as if his action were too much. âDonât be silly, please let me help you.â Anthony smiled while crouching down to carry Thomas as well. You looked a bit worried, and he smiled reassuring you.Â
You both walk to their assigned guest room, and after some pushing and pulling you are finally able to tuck them in with the help of Anthony. You huff, backing up a little right beside Anthony, you looked over towards him and smiled. âThank you once again, My lord.â You smiled kindly.Â
Anthony looked at your adoring lips, making him want nothing but to put his lips on them. âAnthony.â He whispered, making you look up at him once again. âPardon?â You say, making him instantly repeat himself. âPlease, call me Anthony.â He said now facing you directly. âMs. Clarke, Iâll be honest with youâ
I have nothing but respect for you.â He said looking at you sincerely, making you straighten up. âYesterday night, I meant what I saidâI understand you very well.â He expressed, resulting in your breath hitching. âI understand your so felt burden of taking care of your sibling and to be frank, I honestly relate my problems so much to yours,â Anthony whispered lightly, not wanting to wake up the children.Â
You looked up at him in amazement, making him open his mouth but no words came out. Your heart was palpitating so hard, that you felt like a character who was about to be confessed to. Anthony straightened his posture, as he cleared his throat. âTo be honest, I fell deeply in love with your motherly intuition, I donât know how to explain it but my heart eases up when you take care of your sibling so easily,â Anthony confessed, making him flush red.
âI must say it made me love you differently now, andâ god itâs so unlike me, but I fell in love in just three nights.â He became once again flush in color.Â
You too were flushed with red, making you put a hand on your chest, feeling itâactually, it was beating so hard you swear you could hear it. âAnthony, I, well, I donât know how to feel.â You look at him, then away.
âWhen my brother accepted the invitation, I thought of them having the necessary time off, I did not come here for my benefit.â You told him. âThough I am happy, I ended up getting something.â As you utter the last syllables of your sentence, Anthony looks at you.Â
âW-What I meant, I feel the same way, Anthony, I do hope you can court me the right way, once I get back to Mayfair.â You smiled fondly as you grabbed his arm. Making him nod slowly âIt would be an honor to.â Anthony smiled, feeling somewhat relieved that his feelings were reciprocated.Â
As the two walk back down, arms linked, the whole Ton looks at the pair in bewilderment. However, Anthony didnât care, offering his hand to you and a gentle smile. âMay I have this dance, Ms. Clarke?â He smiled, making you giggled and accept his advance. âOf course, My lord.â Then the two of you dance the night away.
At the end of the night, you told your brother you retiring to bed, he nodded and you excused yourself. Your heels bore into your heel and you sighed at the sight of your guest room door. As you passed the library that held the memory of you and Anthony, you canât help but smile. Entering the room with your heels in hand, you wander the bookshelf, ah there it was, Pride and Prejudice.Â
You smile at the light conversation you made between Anthony about the book. You place the hardcover book back before walking out the door, only to find the man you had semi-confessed your love to at the end of the hall, this time he was retiring to bed.Â
You two smile as you connect once again, this time he walks you to your guest room. That night you had kissed him goodnight on his cheek, making him still as a statue, but quickly snapping out of it as he heard your brother making him wau towards you two.Â
The moment felt pure and delightful, you tucked yourself into bed and after tossing and turning, youâd admit, you were far too happy about what just had happened. Tonight felt like a fever dream, and it was something you nor Anthony never wanted to forget.Â
Anthony laid in bed as an uttered mess, as his nightshirt was visibly discarded as he laid shirtless. Simply too hot, and was practically melting because of the action you made on him. He would lay there, dragging his fingertips on his cheek. He knew in the morning you would be gone, already on your way home, and he would be mourning, trying to hold on to the memories of your lips.Â
God, he is so lovesick.Â
So lovesick, he simply started courting you the week you had just come back from Aubrey Hall, with of course the blessing of your three younger brothers.
#đąđłđ”đ”đŠđłđȘđŽđ”đđș đ§đ°đ¶đŻđ”đąđȘđŻ đ±đŠđŻ ËËđąÖŽà»đŠąË#bridgerton family#bridgerton season three#bridgerton season 3#anthony bridgerton#colin bridgerton#violet bridgerton#bridgerton spoilers#friends to lovers#bridgerton#bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton smut#đeason beginningâč àŁȘ Ë#đ”đŠđą đ”đȘđźđŠ w artteđŠŠàŸàœČ#eloise bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#anthony bridgerton fluff#bridgerton fic#strangers to lovers#bestfriends older sister
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my hot pjo take is that Jason isn't a second Percy, Jason is a second Annabeth. Jason is just if Annabeth was a guy and also a Big 3 kid.
#pjo#riordanverse#jason grace#annabeth chase#CAUSE LIKE. THINK ABOUT IT: older sister is Thalia. raised at camp from an unusually young age for demigods.#adoptive parent figure is the immortal teacher of said camp. looking to prove themself. extremely knowledgeable#becomes BFFs with the spunky new kid who's a little bit of an outcast and comes from a troubled home#ends up co-leading camp alongside them. likes architecture and history and very passionate about fairness and law and such#but also is kind of a notorious rulebreaker but never gets in trouble for it#literally ends up put in charge of building stuff for the gods!!!!!!#THEY EVEN LOOK ALIKE. blond/e hair tan skin and stormy eyes!!!!!#Thalia lost her brother and then found Annabeth and went ''oh look. Jason 2. yeah this will fill the void in my heart just fine''#anyways this does make Jercy VERY funny. Percy looking between Annabeth and Jason and going ''mhm. mhm. yeah.''#anyways if you are a jason lover but annabeth hater or vice versa. look inside yourself...... you may just find. two. of the same character
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Unexpected Truth
JJ Maybank x fem!rotledge!teader
Summary: John Bâs sister and JJ grow close during a game of truth or dare, and when John B finds out, they must face the awkward aftermath together.
Word Count: 3900
Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), enemies to lovers, swearing, not proof read
The hot tub bubbled around you, the steam rising into the cool night air as the Pogues gathered for another one of their infamous Friday night hangouts. It was supposed to be a carefree evening, a chance to unwind after a week of chaos. But, of course, that was never how things went with this group.
You leaned back, trying to relax, but the nagging thought in the back of your mind made it impossible. Sitting in a hot tub with your brother and his best friends, who were like family to you, should have been fun. But then there was JJ.
JJ Maybank. The bane of your existence, the guy who constantly found ways to irritate you, and the one person you swore you couldnât stand. Sure, he was one of John B's best friends, but that didn't mean you had to like him. The two of you had a mutual understanding: keep the peace, but donât expect any warmth.
As the night wore on, the conversation turned to a familiar game. Truth or Dare. It was harmless enoughâuntil Kiara, with a mischievous glint in her eye, turned to you.
"I dare you," she began, her tone playful but with an edge that immediately put you on alert, "to sit in JJâs lap for the rest of the night."
Your heart sank. You shot her a look, silently pleading for a way out, but Kiara was having none of it. She just grinned at you, knowing full well what she was doing.
You sighed deeply, casting a glance at JJ. His face was a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Oh, man! Kie! Come on!" he protested, but he knew the rules as well as anyone. A dare was a dare.
"Whatever," you muttered under your breath, moving toward him. The hot tub seemed to shrink as you carefully positioned yourself on his lap, trying to keep as much distance as possible between the two of you. The heat from his body was almost uncomfortable, a constant reminder of how close you were.
JJ shifted slightly, clearly as uncomfortable as you. âDonât make this weird,â he muttered, his voice low so only you could hear.
âMe? Youâre the one making it weird,â you shot back, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. It was just nerves, you told yourself. Just the awkwardness of the situation.
The game continued, the others laughing and daring each other to do increasingly ridiculous things, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldnât help but notice the tension in JJâs body, the way his muscles tensed whenever you moved slightly. You told yourself you were imagining things, but then you shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and you felt it.
Something hard.
Your breath caught in your throat as realization dawned on you. There was no denying what it was, and from the way JJ suddenly stiffened, he knew youâd felt it too. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you were determined not to let it show. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing heâd gotten under your skinâagain.
JJâs voice was strained when he finally spoke. âJust⊠donât move, okay?â
You swallowed hard, your mind racing. This was the last thing youâd expected when you agreed to Kiaraâs stupid dare. The tension between you two had always been sharp, but this was different. This was something neither of you had planned for.
Despite your best efforts, you couldnât ignore it. The realization that JJ might not hate you as much as you thought. Or maybe he did, and this was just a natural reaction. Either way, it left you feeling more flustered than you wanted to admit.
The game continued around you, the laughter and teasing from your friends fading into the background as you tried to focus on anything other than the situation you found yourself in. But it was impossible. Every time you shifted, even slightly, you were reminded of just how close you were to JJ, and how complicated things had suddenly become.
You glanced up at him, expecting to see that infuriating smirk he always wore, but his expression was different. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused on the water, avoiding yours. It was the first time youâd seen him look⊠vulnerable.
For a moment, you felt a pang of something you couldnât quite name. Sympathy? Understanding? Whatever it was, you quickly pushed it down. This was JJ, after all. The same guy who lived to annoy you, who never missed a chance to get on your nerves.
But as the night went on, and you sat there in his lap, you couldnât help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than youâd let yourself see.
The game eventually wrapped up, and one by one, climbed out of the hot tub, heading back inside to dry off and get warm. You started to move, eager to put some distance between you and JJ, but his hand on your arm stopped you.
âHey,â he said, his voice softer than youâd ever heard it. âLook, about before⊠I didnâtââ
You shook your head, cutting him off. âItâs fine, JJ. Letâs just forget about it, okay?â
He studied your face for a moment, and for the first time, you felt like he was really seeing you, not just as John Bâs little sister, but as something more. âYeah, okay,â he finally agreed, though something in his tone told you that maybe he didnât want to forget it as easily as you did.
As you climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel around yourself, you couldnât help but glance back at JJ. He was still sitting there, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.
Maybe this was just a fluke, a one-time thing that would never come up again. But as you walked back inside with the others, you couldnât shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and JJ. And you werenât sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The evening had taken a strange turn, leaving you more flustered than you wanted to admit. After the game, you slipped inside the house, eager to rinse off the lingering chlorine smell and clear your head. The others were still laughing and chatting in the living room, but you needed a moment alone, away from JJ and the confusing feelings bubbling inside you.
You stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a sigh of relief. The warm light and quiet were a welcome change from the chaos outside. You turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as you undressed, your thoughts still spinning from the unexpected tension with JJ.
As you were about to step into the shower, the door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud thud. You spun around, clutching the towel to your chest as JJ stormed in, his expression intense and unreadable.
âJJ! What the hell are you doing?!â you shouted, your voice a mix of shock and anger. You couldnât believe heâd just barged in like that, without even knocking.
âShut up,â JJ growled, his voice low and strained as he strode towards you, leaving you no room to protest. Before you could react, he grabbed your face with both hands and slammed his lips onto yours.
The kiss was rough, desperate, like heâd been holding back for far too long. Your mind went blank, overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all. The towel slipped from your fingers, forgotten as you instinctively reached out to steady yourself, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.
You shouldâve pushed him away, told him to stop. But instead, you found yourself kissing him back, the heat of his lips igniting something deep within you that you hadnât realized was there. The anger, the frustration, all of it melted away under the intensity of the kiss, leaving only the raw, undeniable attraction that had been simmering between you for who knows how long.
JJâs hands moved from your face, sliding down your body with a possessive urgency that sent shivers through you. He pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours, the warmth of his skin against yours making your head spin. Every inch of space between you disappeared, and for a moment, there was nothing but himâhis lips, his touch, the taste of him on your tongue.
But then, as quickly as it started, reality crashed back in. You broke the kiss, pushing him away as you gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest. âJJ, what the hell was that?â you demanded, your voice shaky but firm.
He stood there, breathing hard, his blue eyes dark and wild. âIââ he started but seemed to struggle for words, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be found. âI couldnât take it anymore, Y/N. I canât stand pretending like I donât care about you.â
His confession hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. You stared at him, trying to process what heâd just said, trying to reconcile this vulnerable, desperate JJ with the guy whoâd made it his mission to annoy you at every turn.
âWhat are you talking about?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. âYou hate me. Youâve always hated me.â
JJ shook his head, running a hand through his wet hair in frustration. âThatâs what I wanted you to think. Hell, thatâs what I wanted to think, but itâs not true. Iâve always been drawn to you, Y/N, and it drives me crazy because I know I shouldnât be. Youâre John Bâs little sister, for godâs sake.â
You swallowed hard, your emotions a whirlwind as you tried to make sense of everything. âThen why act like that? Why go out of your way to piss me off?â
âBecause it was easier than admitting how I really felt,â JJ admitted, his voice softening. âBut tonight, when you were sitting on my lap, and I could feel you so close⊠I couldnât keep lying to myself.â
His words left you breathless, the weight of them pressing down on you. This was the last thing youâd expected, the last thing you were prepared for. But now that it was out in the open, you couldnât deny the truth of it or the way your feelings had shifted throughout the night.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked up at him. âJJ, this is crazy. We canât do this.â
He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a determination that made your heart skip a beat. âMaybe it is, but I donât care. Iâve tried to fight it, Y/N, but Iâm done fighting. I want you, and I think you want me too.â
His words sent a jolt through you, igniting the desire that still lingered from the kiss. He was rightâyou did want him. But the fear of what that meant, of what it could do to your relationship with your brother and the rest of the Pogues, held you back.
âJJâŠâ you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one softer, more controlled, but no less intense. He was giving you a choice, a chance to decide what came next.
And as his lips moved against yours, as his hands found their way back to your body, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was something worth risking everything for.
You hesitated for only a moment before you gave in to the storm of emotions brewing inside you. The tension, the anger, the undeniable pull between you and JJâit all came crashing down as you kissed him back, harder this time, matching his intensity with your own.
Your lips moved together in a heated battle, your tongue tangling with his as you fought for dominance, neither of you willing to back down. The taste of him, the feel of him so close, was intoxicating, drowning out any lingering doubts you had. This wasnât just a kissâit was a release, an explosion of all the pent-up frustration and desire that had been building for far too long.
JJ groaned against your lips, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the steam from the still-running shower. The air between you was thick with need, every breath, every touch, only intensifying the fire burning inside you.
Without breaking the kiss, you reached down, your fingers grazing the waistband of his swim trunks. You tugged at them, a clear signal of what you wanted, what you needed. JJ paused for a heartbeat, his breath hitching as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.
His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart skip a beat. âAre you sure about this?â he asked, his voice rough, barely above a whisper.
You didnât trust yourself to speak, so you nodded, your hand still tugging at his swim trunks, urging him on. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, you wanted it. You wanted him.
JJâs eyes flashed with a hunger that mirrored your own, and in one swift motion, he shoved his swim trunks down, kicking them aside as they hit the floor. You couldnât help but let your eyes roam over his body, taking in the sight of him fully, the raw masculinity that he always seemed to exude but now felt almost overwhelming.
He reached for you again, pulling you back into a searing kiss, his hands roaming your body with a new urgency. The feel of his skin against yours, the heat of him pressed so close, was almost too much to bear, but you didnât want it to stop. You needed more.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss, your teeth grazing his lower lip before sucking it into your mouth. JJ groaned again, the sound vibrating through you, making you ache with desire. His hands slid down to your hips, lifting you slightly before pressing you against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, under the hot stream of the shower, the contrast sending a shock through your system.
The water from the shower sprayed across the room, droplets catching on your skin as you lost yourself in the moment. You could feel his arousal, hard and insistent against your thigh, and it only fueled the fire burning inside you. You wanted himânow.
âJJâŠâ you breathed, your voice a desperate plea as you rocked your hips against him, seeking friction, relief, anything to ease the ache heâd ignited within you.
He didnât need any more encouragement. With a low growl, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hand sliding between your legs to make sure you were ready. The moment he touched you, you gasped, your back arching off the wall as you clung to him, your body trembling with anticipation.
âPlease,â you whispered, your voice raw with need.
JJ hesitated for just a second, his gaze locking onto yours as if searching for any last sign of doubt. When he found none, he thrust into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely.
The sudden sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that took your breath away. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the feeling, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.
âYou feel so good" JJ gasped against your shoulder.
He didnât move at first, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his lips brushing against your neck in a tender, almost reverent gesture that sent shivers down your spine. When you finally started to move, rolling your hips against him, it was like a dam breaking.
He met your movements with a rhythm of his own, slow and steady at first, but quickly building in intensity as the need between you grew. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, your bodies moving together in a perfect, desperate dance.
The sounds of your gasps and moans filled the small bathroom, mixing with the steady spray of the shower as you lost yourself in him, in the feeling of being so completely consumed. JJâs grip on your hips tightened, his pace quickening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
âGod, babyâŠâ he groaned, his voice thick with desire. âYou feel so good.â
His words only spurred you on, your body responding to him in ways you hadnât expected, your mind clouded with nothing but the sensation of him, of this moment. You could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust, until you were on the edge of something powerful, something unstoppable.
âJJâŠfasterâ you gasped, your voice trembling with the force of what was coming.
He knew. You could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the way he moved faster, harder, driving you both closer to the edge. And then, with one final thrust, the tension snapped, and you came undone, crying out as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling him down with you.
JJ followed a moment later, his own release hitting him with the same intensity, his body shuddering against yours as he buried himself deep inside you, riding out the last of the waves.
For a long moment, the two of you stayed there, breathing hard, clinging to each other as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. The steam from the shower was thick around you, the water still running, but neither of you moved to turn it off.
Finally, JJ pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You were still trying to catch your breath, your mind spinning, but when you met his gaze, all you saw was the same vulnerability youâd glimpsed earlier, the same raw emotion that had driven him to kiss you in the first place.
And in that moment, you realized that there was no going back. Whatever line youâd just crossed, there was no erasing it. But looking at JJ, seeing the way he looked at you, you werenât sure you wanted to.
âJJâŠâ you started, not sure what to say, how to even begin to process what had just happened.
But JJ just shook his head, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your still-flushed skin. âWeâll figure it out,â he said softly, his voice steady, reassuring.
And as he leaned in to kiss you again, slow and tender this time, you found yourself believing him.
As JJâs lips moved gently against yours, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of youânothing else mattered at that moment. But just as you were about to lose yourself in him again, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the bathroom door.
"Are you two finally done so someone else can take a shower?" came John Bâs familiar voice, laced with a mix of impatience and humor.
Your heart stopped, the blood draining from your face as reality came crashing back in. You and JJ broke apart, eyes wide as the gravity of the situation hit you. You were naked, tangled up in the aftermath of something you couldnât take back, and your brother was on the other side of the door.
âOh my god,â you mouthed, panic surging through you. JJâs expression mirrored your own, a mix of alarm and disbelief. Without a word, you both scrambled to grab the towels that had fallen to the floor, quickly wrapping them around yourselves.
JJ moved first, taking a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob. He opened the door just enough to peek out, shielding you from view as best as he could. John B stood on the other side, leaning against the doorframe with an amused look on his face, clearly enjoying your discomfort.
You peeked around JJ, your cheeks burning red as you faced your brother. âJohn B, itâs notââ you started, but the words caught in your throat. What could you possibly say to make this situation any less mortifying?
But John B just smirked, holding up a hand to cut you off. âSave it, Y/N. Iâm not blind,â he said, his tone teasing but with an underlying seriousness that made you wince. âBro, Iâm glad you finally made a move,â he added, glancing at JJ with a raised eyebrow, âbut please be quiet next time. I donât want to hear my sister moan ever again.â
You wanted to disappear into the floor right then and there. You shot a horrified look at JJ, who looked like he was torn between laughing and dying of embarrassment. His ears were as red as his face, and for once, he was at a loss for words.
John B just chuckled, clearly reveling in your discomfort. âIâll give you two a minute to get dressed, but seriously, hurry up. Some of us still need a shower.â With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you and JJ standing there in stunned silence.
As soon as the sound of John Bâs footsteps faded, you buried your face in your hands, groaning in mortification. âThis is literally the worst thing that could have happened.â
JJ, still wrapped in his towel, let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. âYeah, not exactly how I planned on things going down.â
You peeked at him through your fingers, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something elseâsomething warm and almost comforting, knowing you werenât facing this alone. âDid you plan on this happening at all?â you asked, trying to lighten the mood despite the awkwardness.
JJ shrugged, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. âNot exactly like this, but Iâm not complaining.â He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. âI meant what I said earlier, Y/N. Weâll figure this out, okay?â
You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief at his words. âOkay.â
With that, you both quickly dried off and dressed, the awkwardness still lingering but less oppressive now that youâd shared the burden of it together. As you opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, you couldnât help but glance back at JJ, who gave you a small, reassuring smile.
John B was leaning against the wall, waiting with a knowing grin. âFinally,â he drawled, pushing off the wall as he headed for the bathroom. âIâm serious, thoughâkeep it down next time. I donât need to know that much about your love life.â
You groaned again, but this time it was more out of exasperation than embarrassment. JJ just chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you both walked away.
As mortifying as the situation had been, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing that no matter what happened next, you and JJ would face it togetherâeven if that meant enduring John Bâs teasing for the foreseeable future.
#jj maybank#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj#outerbanks#obx#outer banks#routledge sister#sister#enemies to lovers#i love you#you are beautiful#you are worthy#hot tub#smut
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Day 6: New & Niche
What if we were two unknowable, female-presenting entities in the vast void haha.... unless?
#i tried to think of a joke but nothing made me laugh more than the word joke#i think god's sister snorts when she laughs i feel this deeply in my soul#now listen to me here.#enemies to lovers#billie spn#amara spn#billie x amara#supernatural#spn fanart#sapphicnaturalrights#the second time posting this damn thing lets hope you can see it now?
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the sillies are bonding!! sure hope they're this happy all the time :)
#promo â€ïž#resident lover#re8#resident evil village#resident evil 8#re8 village#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#dimitrescu sisters
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Dimisisters bonding <3
#maybe cass is a little too small#i just want to see them having fun T_T#resident lover#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#re8#re village#i can take them not in a fight#dimitrescu sisters
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If You Think I'm An Idiot You Should Meet My Sister Funny Sister Lover Gift T-Shirt
Get yours now: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/47171964-if-you-think-im-an-idiot-you-should-meet-my-sister
ifyouthinkimanidiot #idiot #sister #mysister #sisterlover #lovesister #bigsister #proudsister #bestsister #awesomesister #brotherandsister #tshirt #family #familymatching #familyreunion #brothergift #brothershirt #giftforbrother #vintage #retro #funny #80s #birthdaygift #birthday #funnysister #sisters #sisterhood #ilovemysister
#sister#sisters#sister lover#love sister#my sister#funny sister#i love my sister#best sister#proud sister#awesome sister#sister and brother#family gift#family#family matching#80s#vinatge#vintage#retro#tshirt#humor#fathers day#wax and wayne#birthday#sisterhood#If You Think I'm An Idiot You Should Meet My Sister#If You Think I'm An Idiot#You Should Meet My Sister#idiot#big sister#fathers day gift
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My hottest take on Jolyon & Uldren is that bungie should never concretely define the nature of their relationship bc I think it would be a retcon to say that Uldren was capable of defining any of his close relationships in any sort of normal, not insane way
#bro's like 'i love my sister but it's like shes holding my chain and i need to test how far i can run from her to feel valid haha it's nbd'#like he is certainly not capable of having a Boyfriend or even a Lover like he sucks too much for that#i want vague implications that they may have fucked nasty for thousands of years and only ever publicly referring to each other as friends#like it should be messy and unclear and confusing that's what does it for me
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rl bela dimitrescu
(thank you @resident-lover for the fun game!)
#resident lover#bela dimitrescu#rl bela dimitrescu#loved the art style in the game#my art#will be working on re8 version of the sisters after i finish shadowheart#new tumblr page is it's kind of barren rn#might post more sketches here who knows
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Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: I have heard the unanimous pro-long chapter response, and present you with 9.3k words of plot progression and 10k words of banter, backstory, and a secret third thing. Enjoy! Chapter Title is from Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Ray
Word Count: 19k
Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben makes a choice, and you try something new. Self-inflicted starvation and unhealthy contraceptives.
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst, light smut, pining
Read on A03!
Chapter 7 - Chapter 9
Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties
@c1gs-coffee @manicjk
Want to be tagged? Just ask!
The sun had long risen into the sky before Ben moved from her side. He hadnât slept, only watched her chest rise and fall in smooth movements and failed to smother the thing in his chestâhow it would've been content there foreverâbefore realizing he needed to piss, and no amount of stupid, confusing fucking feelings could make him hold it longer.
After, instead of returning to the bed, Ben left her room and made his way down to the kitchen. He put the coffee on, roughly spreading something called âstrawberry cream cheeseâ Sheâd introduced him to across a bagelâit was almost as good as crack, and given that the CIA was full of uptight pussies who wouldnât buy him the real shit, it had to doâas he waited for it to brew. When it finished, Ben poured half into a mugâleaving the rest for Her to findâbefore dropping himself at the counter.
He ate in silence, listening to Her heartbeat upstairs, and thought once more about Butcherâs offer. Homelanderâs offer. Heâd wanted to tell Her, ask for whatever inevitable fucking opinion she would have about how he should answer. She was good at it, this planning and thinking shit, and Ben had yet to see her falter at any useless moral hurdles. Heâd figured out Her hard lineâno innocentsâbut when it came to the opposition, she didnât pull punches. Metaphorical punches. Despite Benâs best efforts, She was still far more fucking bark than bite.
He hadnât mentioned it though, because sheâd shut down and it suddenly hadnât felt that fucking important anymore. And now, after the shitshow last night, Ben wasnât going to. He could make the fucking call himself, because he was a grown ass fucking man. Because Ben was more than damn capable of meeting with Homelander and coming out unscathed.
It wasnât because Ben fucking knew Sheâd tell him to do it, and then bitch at him until sheâd weaseled her way into the meeting.
It wasnât because he didnât want Her anywhere fucking near the meeting and the star-spangled pussy in attendance.
Soâwhen he heard Her start to shuffle in her room, moving around for a few minutes before the door opened and she made her way downstairsâBen decided heâd figure it out, call Butcher by his own goddamn self, and She wouldnât have to know anything about it until well fucking after.
âMorning, Pretty Boy.â She mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen and trying to blink herself awake.
âMorninâ Sunshine,â Ben triedâand failedânot to smile at her less-than-ladylike demeanor and let out a low chuckle as She ran fully into the counter with a yelp. âSleep well?â He knew She had, but he enjoyed her still-sleepy scowl too much not to ask.
âFuck off.â She grumbled, and he laughed.
âWelcome back, bitch.â
âCunt,â she mumbled half-heartedly, rubbing her eyes. âCoffee?â
Ben pointed to the pot, and She let out a satisfied noise that made the Thing in his chest fucking whine like a pussy.
âAll for me?â She asked with a slack smile at Ben.
âAll for you,â he grumbled. âBut itâs getting cold, and Iâm not making you fucking more.â
She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the shelves. âAny news from the Boys?â
âNope,â Ben watched Her pour the coffee, and something squeezed around his ribs as the lie left him. âThey fucking benched us until they figure out what to do with the news.â
âAbout what Firecracker said?â She said softly, staring down at her now full mug.
Ben grunted an affirmation, She let out a sad little sigh, and the damn fucking Thing wanted to grab her again. âMaybe Butcher will finally fucking use the information the red-haired broad gave him, and itâll get shit moving again.â
She frowned at him, and her heart skipped a single beat. âYou mean Ashley?â
âSure,â Ben said with an eye roll. âThereâs a lot of fucking people, Sunshine. I canât be expected to remember every pussy idiot I meet.â
She let out a low laugh, and the Thing was insufferably fucking pleased. âFair enough.â
Ben waited for Her to share whatever thoughts heâd been certain sheâd have about Ashley and the information, but She only sat at his side, looking up at him with a small smile. The Thing in Benâs chest was starting to be fucking problem, because it was so goddamn satisfied that She was talking to him again it didnât want to push her for answers. Ben only barely managed to overpower it and ask, âThe fuck you think is taking that pussy so long?â
She raised her brows. âWhich pussy are we talking about now?â
âButcher. And the information.â He didnât miss the slightest increase in Her heart rate, despite her bored shrug.
âDunno.â Before Ben could ask more questions, she continued. âDoes everyone know Iâm awake?â
âNo,â Ben scowled. âHow would I have fucking told them?â
She let out a hum. âTouchĂ©.â She stood once more, taking her mug with her. âIâm gonna go call Annie and get changed, Iâll meet you back here after.â
âGet changed?â Ben grabbed Her arm before she could leave his side. âFor fucking what?â
âTraining.â She grinned down at him. âIâm going to kick your fucking ass for calling me a âgoddamn idiotâ while I was crying.â
âI got you to stop fucking wallowing. And fucking stayed with you all goddamn night like you begged me to.â Ben jabbed, and Her smile grew.
She leaned forward, holding his gaze with her own.
âIâve never begged you for anything, Pretty Boy. Itâs going to take a fucking miracle for me to start now.â The Thing roared so loud at her words that Benâs grip grew slack, and She pulled her arm away. âThis will take twenty minutes, and then Iâm going to wipe the floor with your fucking face.â
She left the room, leaving Ben in the kitchen, alone, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. He almost stood from the counter, ready to march after Her and demand some sort of fucking elaborationâhe wasnât even sure for what, just that She wasnât fucking allowed to say shit like that and walk awayâbut Ben had barely shifted before he realized his dick was fucking hard, and chasing after Her was no longer an option.
Ben had twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to take care of his boner, figure out how to smother the Thing for good, and get his fucking shit in order. She was just another woman, just another pretty face. Heâd gotten hard-ons from a lot less and jerked himself off a lot faster. This was no fucking different. She was no fucking different. Just another fucking pretty face.
Beautiful, the Thing reminded him. Sheâs not just pretty. Sheâs beautiful.
If his boner wasnât starting to be fucking painful, Ben wouldâve spent the entire twenty minutes trying to figure out how to make the Thing shut the fuck up.
He made his way upstairs, steps faltering outside Her door as he listened to her move around inside like a fucking creep.
âIâm fine,â she was saying to someone, probably fucking Starlight or Cocksucker. It hadnât escaped Ben how they were the only fuckers who really ever asked Her. âI promise. Donât worry about me, Annie, Iâm really okay.â
Ben scowled at the door, almost forgetting about his angry hard-on as the memory of Her curled up, shaking with despair less than twelve hours ago, flashed in his head.
âAre you sure?â Starlightâs voice was slightly static. âBecause if you need a break from Soldier Boy to deal with this we can figure something out.â
Ben was going to kill the bitch, consequences be fucking damned. He was only fucking seconds away from barging into the room, from giving Starlight a descriptive warning of how he was going to fuck her face up so much Cocksucker left her, when he heard Her sharp, quick answer.
âNo.â Her voice sounded almost panicked. âIâm staying here. I donât need a break from Ben. Please, Iâm good, heâs good, everything is fine. I donât want-â She cut herself off slightly, and Ben heard the flutter of her heart. âItâs good here. Benâs good. Donât worry about us.â
Benâs good, Her voice echoed in his head, and the Thing was pounding against him. Benâs good.
He needed to fucking move before he barged into Her room and demanded to know what the fuck she meant by Benâs good. He needed to take care of himself before She saw him, and he had to come up with a lie about why he was standing outside her door with a boner.
Ben barely managed not to slam his door behind himâan action he knew Sheâd hear and barge in to demand what was making him so pissyâand dropped onto his bed, practically ripping his own pants and underwear off. He closed his eyes, took a strong breath, and began to fucking his fist with rough abandon. It just had to be fucking fast, he just had to find fucking relief before She came looking for him.
The Thing had other plans. The Thing wanted to take its time, to listen to Her heartbeat only doors away, and to imagine her there, how her heartbeat would race as he fucked her. The Thing was offering Ben countless fantasies to choose from. Her under him as he fucked her stupid. Her on his lap, tits bouncing as he slammed up into her. Her on her knees, mouth wide open, drool falling down her chin, his hand in her hair. In every one She moaned and whined, but the one that made him almost feral, made his hand move faster along his length than Ben had thought possible, was the one where She was up against his wall, legs around his waist, begging.
Ben, a phantom of Her voice moaned into his ear. Please.
This feel like a fucking miracle, Sunshine? Benâs own voice growled through his head. I feel fucking good?
âBen?â Her voice, her real voice, sounded from outside his door, and Ben bucked up into his fist. âYou in there?â
âIâm-â He bit down a groan. âIâm busy, Sunshine.â Then, just to keep Her there, maybe hear her voice again, he called out again. âWhat?â
âCan I come in?â
âNo!â He shouted, struggling to come up with a fucking reason for Her not to come in, an effort not made any damn easier by the Thing practically straining for Her. âIâm- fuck. â Ben swore under his breath, feeling real damn thankful she didnât have supe-hearing. âIâm fucking changing!â
âOh,â Her voice had an edge Ben didnât understand, but her heart stammered into a faster pace, and the Thing grabbed onto the sound and dragged him closer to the edge. âThe call went faster than I thought. Iâll be in the kitchen when youâre done.â Even as her tone returned to its usual amused droll, her heart didnât slow. âGet fucking ready, Pretty Boy. Iâm going to make you regret being born.â
Ben bit down another groan. He was so fucking close, just a little fucking further- âIâll make you fucking beg, Sunshine.â The words were low, through gritted teeth as he hovered on that edge- He didnât even fully mean for Her to hear-
âIâd like to see you try, Ben.â She said, and that fucking did it. Her words, her heartbeat, her tone as she drawled his name, the smug grin Ben could see fucking perfectly in his headâthey all grabbed him and yanked him over.
â Brat,â he grunted as his relief burst from him, finding every fucking surface in the room.
âCunt,â She pushed back, and Ben wasnât sure if it was the Thing simply making him a fucking idiot or not, but the edge in her voice sounded fucking breathy. Her heart fucking faltered. For a very long second, Ben waited fucking pathetically for her to say something more, praying like a goddamn pussy for Her to burst into the room and fulfill all those fantasies still lingering in his head, but her heart faded down the hall with her steps, and Ben was left with only himself and his mess.
It took Ben ten minutes to clean up and change, but it felt like a fucking hour. Though his body was satiated, the Thing was hungry. He had given it a taste of something he didnât want to fucking think about, and now it wanted more. Ben didnât fucking get it, couldnât fucking understand why it wasâhe wasâbeing so fucking pathetic about this. He wasnât a fucking uptight choir boy, heâd jerked off probably more times than Sheâd even had sex. Heâd had sex more times than any other fucker in history. Heâd done things that would make Butcher blush, and those memories had fueled his drive more than enough since heâd been awake. He wouldnât fucking lie and say Sheâd never made appearances in theses types of thoughts beforeâBen was a red-blooded man with eyes, and he wasnât going to feel fucking guilty about itâbut theyâd been brief, and they hadnât left him reeling like a goddamn fucking pussy. Like he was now.
He had to fucking get it together.
When he arrived down in the kitchen, having done a very careful inspection of himself for any lingering evidence, Ben found Her stuffing her face with the bagel heâd left behind, looking up with wide eyes as he entered the room.
âSorry-â She roughly swallowed, and that didnât fucking help Ben at all. âBut you should know better than to leave food just out.â
âThereâs a whole fucking fridge full of the stuff behind you, Sunshine,â he grunted, moving around the counter. âCouldâve fucking used it.â
She shrugged, licking her fingers clean, and there was no fucking way she wasnât doing this to him on purpose. âYouâll get over it.â She gave him a toothy smile. âReady to have your ass handed to you on a silver fucking platter?â
Ben smirked, leaning down to Her eye level. âIâm going to fucking make you cry, brat.â
There it was again. That fucking falter. And something flashed in Her eyes, barely fast enough for Ben to catch before she blinked and it was gone, Her gaze holding his with a steel glare.
âFucking bring it, Pretty Boy.â
He laughed, rising to his full height as she stood from the counter. âArenât you mighty fucking cocky for someone whoâs only hit me twice.â
âThrice. Iâve hit you thrice.â Her words were muttered with a pretty frown as she walked toward the dining roomâthey had long repurposed it into a mock training areaâand Ben grinned as he followed her.
âTwice, Sunshine. I donât count the hit where you fucking cheated.â
She snorted. âOh, shove it up your ass, Pretty Boy. Like youâve never cheated before.â
âIâve never gotten caught,â Ben said smugly. âBig fucking difference.â
She turned as they stopped in the center of the room, raising her fists to the defensive stance heâd taught her. âSomehow,â She smirked. âI really doubt that.â
Ben moved to match Her, shrugging as he did so. âDoesnât matter what you believe, Sunshine. Truths the truth.â
âIâm going to burn your whole beard off this time, cunt.â
âFucking try it, brat.â Her heart faltered again, and Ben decidedâas long as She kept up that fucking reactionâhe was going to keep calling her that until she physically made him stop. âIâll put the TV on that fucking reality channel you hate and break the damn remote.â
Her eyes narrowed. âYou hate E! more than I do. I just hate the ads, you hate everything about it.â
âAll the tits are fucking fake,â Ben muttered and She snorted. âAnd so are the fucking-â
âAsses?â She finished his sentence with an eye roll. âYeah, Iâm sure fake tits and BBLs really hurt your refined, feminist sensibilities.â
âWhat the fuck is a BBL?â
âBrazilian Butt Lift.â
âYou canât just fucking say shit-â
âJesus, itâs a plastic surgery, and itâs pretty self-descriptive. Actually, youâd probably like them.â
âFuck no, I like it fucking natural, I have no interest in fucking something thatâs not-â
âTotally real and able to enjoy it. Iâve heard the sales pitch, Pretty Boy.â She gave him a slack, taunting smile. âAre you going to keep stalling, or put your money where your mouth is?â
Ben winked at Her. âIâll put my mouth and my money wherever I fucking want, Sunshine.â
She met his cocky smirk with one of her own. âProve it.â
By the end of it, both of them agreeing after two grueling hours to shower, fucking eat something, and spend the remainder of the night at the TVâShe had made some amazingly graphic threats about what sheâd do if he broke the remote while she heated dinnerâBen was more torn by his goddamn fucking feelings then heâd ever been in his life. There was pride coursing through him, Sheâd hit him five more times and only two of the punches had been cheating, there was the Thing in his chest, pounding in excitement like a fucking pussy at the simple goddamn idea of sitting next to her while they ate, and there was the hunger, low in his gut and straining against his pants, looping the image of Her all sweaty and flushed from exertion around and around his head.
He was very fucking thankful that Her own eagerness to get into the shower made her leave the room fast enough not to notice anything, and decided to take a very long, very cold shower himself to get a goddamn fucking grip before this became a problem.
It worked wellâBen made it through their returned ritual of dinner and TV without even a fucking hiccup, even fucking managed to sling his arm over the back of the couch without thinking about it was coincidentally hanging over Herâuntil a little after midnight when Sheâd fucking asked him to stay in her room again.
âI- um,â Her voice had started quieter than usual, not fully looking at Ben as she spoke. âIâm feeling better, really. But, uh, if youâd be okay with it-â
âSunshine,â heâd nudged Her with his shoulder, and when sheâd turned her pretty face, cast in only the glow of the TV light, towards him, the Thing rumbled. âStop pussyfooting and-â
âSay what I mean?â Sheâd finished his sentence with a small smile. That was something she really needed to stop fucking doing. âStay in my room tonight. Just until I fall asleep. If you want.â Sheâd watched him carefully as she tacked on the end.
Ben had given Her a smirk, and decided to feed the Thing just a little. âBeg.â
âFuck you,â Sheâd snorted, but there was no anger in her words, so Ben pushed a little further.
âIâm serious, Sunshine. You really want me there? Beg. â
âIâll cut off your dick, cunt.â Sheâd glowered.
Heâd shrugged. âHave it your way, brat.â
â Fucking asshole,â Sheâd muttered under her breath, heart stumbling for only a second before sheâd fully turning her body towards Ben. Sheâd fluttered her eyelashes sarcastically, giving him a simpering smile, her voice sickly sweet. âPlease, Ben. Please, grace me with your holy presence so that I may have six hours of sleep that are not plagued by nightmares. Please, sir, do me the kindness of not making me wake up screaming from memories of being fucking tortured.â
Ben grunted, forcing a smile onto his face as the Thing howled. âOf course, Sunshine. All you had to do was ask.â
She rolled her eyes, pulling herself off the couch. âI need to shit, Iâll see you in my room in five.â
Ben let himself dwell for a second after She left, trying to push the sound of her voice, however mocking, say please, Ben and sir and the image of her fake pouting at him as light flickered across her face. Through an inhumanâeven for Benâamount of self-restraint, he managed to pull his shit all the way together and push it deep, deep down for the Thing to follow before making his way up the stairs.
When he entered Her room, she was already sitting on the bed, covers pulled over her body, on the same side as the previous night. Ben started to walk carefully over to the empty half of the mattress, but she sat up a little, pointing behind him.
âLights.â She explained, a slightly apologetic look on her face. âPlease.â
âOnly because you fucking said please,â Ben grumbled, and flicked the little switch on the wall before making his way to Her side. Heâd barely kicked his legs up onto the mattress when She closed her eyes, and her heartbeat began to slow into a peaceful steady rate.
He wasnât sure how, but Ben slept as well, and when the nightmareâone of his more frequent ones about a man in a lab coat tears out his heart, holding it up for the world to see, and echoes of laughter carving into Benâs headâcaught him, he woke in a cold sweat and felt Her curled fully into his side, his arm holding her there. His breathing steadied quickly, and it dawned on him that there hadnât been any drums. There still werenât. He looked down at Her, tucked against his torso, and didnât move until sunrise.
Another week passed, and Ben was getting a lot fucking worse at controlling the Thing in his chest. She still had no ideaâBen was an amazing fucking actor like thatâand he had no fucking intention of clueing her in. Because there wasnât anything for Her to know. He wasnât keeping it a secret, because the Thing wasnât anything, not really, so heâd just be telling her he thought she was pretty. Which was a fucking stupid thing to do, because Ben wasnât a pussy teenager whoâd just discovered what women were. She was pretty, but heâd met hundreds, thousands, of pretty women.
Not pretty, the Thing would grumble. Beautiful.
Ben had met fucking beautiful women too. This wasnât something important.
Was Ben jerking off more times than he had since maybe even before Russia? Sure. But it was just a fucking coincidence. His sex drive was back, fucking alert the media and call the cops. Was he not using porn, just the Thing and its conjured images? Yes, but nobody would fucking give him internet access and heâd suck Butcher to completion before he asked Her to give him porn. Because heâd never fucking hear the end of it, not because Sheâd probably know how to see what heâd watch, and have questions about why all the models looked like her. The images were getting Benâs engine going just fine, and delivering him to where he needed to be goddamn well. Images that were of soft bodies that looked like hers and sharp eyes that were always amused. Images that went hand in hand with imagined sounds of a familiar voice moaning and whimpering his name, his real name, as he muttered filth to his empty room. Nobody had even called him Ben during sex in almost 75 years. Everyone, from Crimson Countess to long-faceless supes at Herogasm, had called him Soldier Boy. But She always called him Ben and his mind had, against his fucking will, decided that She would probably call him Ben if he got to have her how he wanted.
And fuck, had his fucking brain taken that and ran with it. Ben had run through so many fucking fantasies he had favorites. There was the one where he knelt before her on his bed and She gripped his hair as she begged, the one where he pinned Her hands above her head during training with one hand and used the other to make her moan, the one where She walked into his room and dropped to her knees for him with that taunting smile, and the one where they were on the couch and he pulled Her onto his lap and fucked her until she burst into flames.
None of this was helped by their new habit of him sleeping in Her bed, or the fact that he was actually sleeping when he did so. It wasnât helped by her being more insistent on training than ever before, making their usual physical contact increase by fucking tenfold. It wasnât helped by how Ben couldnât stop talking to Her because she was still insufferably fucking open and stupidly fucking funny and he wanted an excuse make Her call him a cunt so he could call her a brat, and he got to listen to the little sound her heart made every fucking time.
The worst part, though, was that heâd been fucking wrong. Really fucking wrong. She wasnât pretty or beautiful, she was fucking perfect, and it was going to make him go insane. Lately, when he looked at her, it was like staring at the goddamn sun. It made the Thing reel just to fucking see Her now, and he was too much of a fucking pussy to fight it because She was perfect.
Youâve never met a perfect woman before , the Thing whispered smugly. Youâve never met a perfect anything.
Fine. That was fucking true. But it didnât change that the Thing didnât fucking mean jack fucking shit. So he didnât have to tell her.
In the mess of the Thing and Her and trying to kill the Thing before it made him a fucking pussy who could only think about Her, Ben still hadnât given Butcher an answer about Homelanderâs offer. He didnât even really fucking have one yet. There had been no improvement in the cycle of Homelander can fuck right off to Homelander had hurt Her and Ben wanted to hurt him to She would tell Ben to go all the way back to Homelander can fuck right off. If anything it had worsened, leaving Ben right in the same shit position heâd started.
He was wading around in that very loop now, having woken up two hours before Her and made his way downstairs. Though, once again against his will, Ben had spent the first hour watching Her sleep, dragged into a trance by her heartbeat and her relaxed, beautiful face.
Perfect. The Thing had reminded Ben. Her perfect face.
Heâd told it to shut the fuck up, and stompedâquietly, Ben had no interest in waking Her upâout of Her room and down the hall to his own. Heâd made himself cum quickly, a fantasy of Her bent over and whining into a pillow fueling him, before moving downstairs to watch TV and wait for Her to wake up like a fucking lost puppy dog.
But Ben did waitâreminding himself that it didnât mean anything because what else could he even fucking doâas one of the better sitcoms Sheâd shown him playing in a forgotten buzz as Benâs thoughts began the useless fucking loop. Ben was so fucking focused on the Homelander had hurt Her and Ben wanted to hurt Him part that he missed the sounds of Her waking up, only barely noticing when her heartbeat grew closer as she walked down the stairs.
âMorning, Sunshine.â Ben called over his shoulder just as She reached the bottom, padding over to drop on the couch next to him.
âHi.â She mumbled, squinting at the TV. âOh, this is a good one.â
He glanced back at the screen, where two of the characters were screaming into a walkie talkie in a closet. Ben only grunted, watching Her lean back from the corner of his eye.
 âWhatâs wrong with you?â She asked so casually, Ben wasnât sure he heard her right.
âWhat the fuck are you on about?â
âYouâre being weird. You didnât make coffee, and when I came down the stairs you looked deep in thought. Itâs concerning.â
Ben rolled his eyes and swatted at Her arm. âFuck off, brat.â Her heart did the thing, and he had to fight a smile. âI was just watching the fucking show.â
She hummed, giving him an unconvinced look. âFine, you cunt. Donât tell me.â
âIf this is about you wanting coffee, Sunshine, youâve got a pair of working arms and a matching set of fucking legs. Do it your goddamn self.â
âItâs not about coffee,â She mumbled, though Ben didnât miss her slight pout. âI just wanted toâŠâ She trailed off, and Ben looked at her fully.
What a fucking lapse in his quickly vanishing judgment that was.
The morning light through the room made all of Her perfect features fucking glow, and her stupid lips that had been haunting Benâs every damn thought were puffy from sleep. He wanted to touch them.
âBen?â Her voice jarred him out of his stupid fucking brain. âWhy are you holding Butcherâs sunglasses?â
Ben glanced down and realized that heâd been turning the cheap, knock-off, Soldier Boy sunglass that were the wrong fucking color around in his hand. Heâd forgotten to give them to Her completely when sheâd first woken up and been all sad, as fucking sunglasses had been lower on his priority list than the fucking Homelander offer. Then, when She had finally started fucking talking to him again, he had found himself rarely in his roomâBen had been keeping the sunglasses on his dresserâexcept to quickly pull his dick in any spare time he could find. When heâd cleaned up his mess from that very activity this morning, Ben had noticed them collecting dust and shoved them into his pocket to finally fucking move them from his room. One less thing to do a shitty job of cleaning.
âButcher told me these were yours.â Ben frowned at her. âAsshole said you dropped them on your way to Firecrackerâs stage.â
She gave the sunglasses a dirty look. âOf course he did. Fucking asshole.â
âWhat, are they fucking modern sunglasses that are going to start telling me all your deepest secrets?â Ben looked between the accessory to where She sat, still glowering at it. âIs it a damn bomb?â
âNo, Butcherâs just a dick.ââ She muttered, though the bitterness was gone from her tone and her lips twitched as her eyes returned to his. âHe was going to use them as a part of his dogshit disguise and I told him not to. Because it would blow our cover. Your cover. Then I blew the whole fucking plan, and heâs fucking rubbing it my face.â
âYou didnât blow it, your stupid plan fucking worked, Sunshine. Itâs not a great insult.â
âIt didnât work. Not well enough.â The sadness was creeping back into Her eyes, and the Thing was clawing at him.
âButcherâs an ass,â Ben tossed the sunglasses into Her lap, and she scrambled to catch them. âThat tea-rimming dick couldnât have done any fucking better than you did.â
âThanks, Ben.â She gave him a small smile, her voice so painfully fucking genuine it made Ben want to throw himself off a cliff. The Thing was whining, fucking whining like a little fucking bitch, as She held the sunglasses up to the light. âThoughts on the change of your color scheme.â
Ben snorted. âFucking blue. The weak pussy manâs fucking green.â
She laughed, a real laugh that made the Thing slam against Benâs lungs. âThatâs a much stronger and more negative opinion about blue than I expected from Americaâs Number One Patriot.â
âIf I had any fucking say in it,â Ben grumbled. âOur flag would be red, white, and green.â
She wrinkled her nose at him. âLike Italy?â
âFuck no, not like fucking Italy-â He shot Her a glare as she started to giggle. âShut the fuck up, Sunshine. Blue is fucking stupid, green is a lot fucking better, and you fucking know it.â
âHm,â She smothered her laughter and gave him a smirk. âYou do look very good in it.â
The Thing loved that. Fuck, Ben loved that too. He did look fucking good in green, he looked good all the damn time. That didnât stop the Thingâand him, if someone wanted to be a real fucking asshole about specificsâfrom wanting to, needing to, know what other colors She thought he looked good in. But she had moved on, rubbing the lenses with her shirt before placing the sunglasses on her nose and giving Ben a wide, unrestrained smile.
âHow do I look? Like a douchebag?â She asked, pushing them down her nose to look at him over the rim.
Ben snorted. âI donât think you could look like a douchebag if you fucking tried, Sunshine.â
She giggled, and relaxed fully into the cushions, turning to lean against the armrests and kicking her feet up so they pressed against Benâs leg. âJuryâs out on that, Pretty Boy.â
Ben watched her settle, watching the TV through the sunglasses and mouthing along to the lines of the show with a comfortable smile, and his brain flashed back to the place heâd left the cycle. Homelander had hurt Her, and Ben wanted to hurt him.
He had his fucking answer for Butcher.
That night, sitting at Her side and moving more carefully he had ever bothered to in his fucking life, Ben reached across Her body and took the small, weird phone from her bed stand.Â
The next half hour involved a lot of cursing under his breath, rage building bigger and bigger into Ben until he almost threw the fucking âphoneâ across the room. In almost any other circumstance he wouldâve shoved the damned thing before Her, and she wouldâve showed him all the stupid fucking ways in which it worked. But he couldnât for this, because Sheâd have fucking questions about what he wanted her phone for, and heâd try and refuse to answer them, and then Sheâd figure out a fucking way to trick him into telling her. The whole point of his careful movements and silent anger was that he could fire the gun himself before She could insist on doing it with him.
Eventually Ben figured out what open with Face ID meant, leading to him spending another two minutes trying to hold the phone in front of Her face in a way that the stupid fucking thing deemed acceptable. By the grace of a god Ben didnât believe in, he was saved from another grueling endeavor of trying to figure out how to call someone on a flat piece of fucking glass by the phone buzzing in his handâsomething that made him almost crack it in half out of pure vigilanceâand the screen showing a weird fucking banner that top that read:
William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever
Need a week.
Ben tapped on the banner, and felt immense satisfaction as it brought him to a screen of little bubbles, a keyboard sitting readily at the bottom. One letter at a time, Ben typed out call me, before pausing and adding Her name at the end.
The phone began to buzz angrily as the words Call From, William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever paired with a photo of an old Wanted photo of Butcher consumed the screen. Ben was incredibly grateful She was asleep, as he dropped the fucking thing onto the his lap in shockâthough heâd recovered quickly and any sane motherfucker wouldâve done the same if a block of metal started fucking buzzingâand She would certainly not have let him hear the end of it had she seen. He stood carefully but quickly from the bed, looking back as She shuffled slightly. When he saw her settled once more, heartbeat just as steady as when She always slept, he pushed out into the hall and hit the little green button that better fucking do what he thought it would.
âOi,â Butcherâs voice sounded quietly from the phone, saying Her name with a tone of annoyance. âSoldier Boy rub off on you so hard you forgot how bloody phones work?â The man made a sound like he was laughing to himself. âActually, donât fucking answer that. I donât want to know what freaky shit you two get up to.â
âGuess again,â Ben spoke against the screen, trying at the same time to figure out how to make Butcher louder. He noticed a button labeled speaker, slammed his thumb against it, and almost dropped the phone as Butcherâs voice blasted against his ears.
âWell, if it ainât the ancient cunt himself. Does the missus know you took her phone?â
âNo, I didnât.â
Ben froze, swearing under his breath, as Her voice sounded from behind him. Ignoring Butcherâs mocking laughter echoing in the hall, he turned slowly to find Her right at his chest, eyes bleary but still managing to glare with all her usual, sharp venom. âHello, Sunshine. Good fucking morning to you too.â
âYou as well.â She snapped, and Ben scoffed, silently enjoying the way Her nose scrunched as she corrected him and hating the way he didnât want to throw Her against a wall. âAnd itâs fucking 3am.â She yanked her phone from Benâs grip, scowling at him as she spoke. âButcher, Iâm going to put you on hold for a second, Ben and I need to talk.â
âTrouble in paradise?â Butcherâs voice sneered, and She rolled her eyes before pressing something on the screen. âIâll just bloody wait here then, not like I have anything important to do.â
âI can still hear him.â Ben pointed out as Butcher began to hum through the speakers.
She narrowed her eyes. âDonât worry about it, Pretty Boy. He wonât hear it when I beat your fucking ass.â
âI stay with you all night, again, and this is how you show me fucking gratitude?â
âYou fucking stole my phone to call Butcher.â She said flatly. âYou donât even know how to use it.â
âI figured it out, Sunshine. Iâm not a fucking idiot pussy.â
âYeah, youâre a regular fucking Einstein, using a smartphone in 21st century.â She jeered. âNow tell me why you needed to call Butcher so bad you decided to steal my phone about it, before I melt your fucking face. â
âTake your best fucking shot, Sunshine, this is between me and the brit.â
She sighed. âHave it your way. Butcher?â She tapped the phone, holding Benâs glare. âAny ideas about what Ben was calling you for?â
âWhy do you ask, Love? Soldier Boy not willing to share his intentions with me to his Sunshine? â Butcher mocked, and Her scowled turned down to the phone.
âButcher.â Her voice was cool, and Ben could see the gnawing of her lip just as well as he could hear it. âYou and Ben get one minute to grow bigger balls and tell me right now, or I will cut off the tiny ones you have.â
âSorry, but Ben -â Butcherâs voice said his name in a way that made Ben want to cut out the manâs tongue. âDidnât get round to telling me his bloody self, so I ainât got a clue.â
âGive me a guess.â She said coldly.
âCanât, Love. I donât have the faintest idea.â
A sound of frustration escaped Her throat, and Ben watched her grip on the phone tighten. âButcher, I donât know where this sudden loyalty to Ben came from, but you better lose it and find an idea real fucking fast before I leave Ben here so I can come and kill you.â
Any sleep was gone from Her eyes, smoke had begun to curl off of her body, and Ben was starting to worry she was going to break the skin in her mouth. Maybe Sheâd let us look at it if she does, the Thing whispered. And we could touch her lips.
Ben had to get himself under fucking control. If he wasnât so focused on Her mouth like a whipped pussy, he wouldâve been able to grab the phone back and break it before Butcher caved and told Her.
âWell, it might have something to do with our little chat while you were taking bloody five. That it, Gov? You finally got a fucking answer for me?â
She looked up at Ben, eyes flaring. âWhat little chat? âÂ
âNone of your business, Sunshine,â Ben snapped, and Butcher made a huffed laugh through the phone.
âDonât think she sees it that way, Mate.â
âShut your fucking mouth, Butcher.â Ben growled, and Her glare somehow grew so sharp Ben could feel it.
âWhat little chat, Butcher. What answer does Ben need to give you.â She hissed.
âHomelander and Sage gave us a little offer to have a nice and peaceful chat.â Butcher drawled, and Her eyes shot down to the phone, mouth falling open. âIâve been waitin two bloody weeks for Soldier Boy to let me know if heâll grace us with his presence.â
Her eyes returned to Ben, jaw clenched, and the carpet at her feet started to blacken. âIâm going to have to call you back, Butcher.â
âIf you two have angry sex, tell me, because Hughie will owe me a tenner and-â Butcherâs voice was cut off as She hung up, not once looking away from Ben.
âHomelander and Sage offered us a meeting? And you didnât think that was important enough to share with the class?â Her voice was level, words measured, and heart steady. Ben hadnât seen Her like this since those first weeks, and he hadnât missed it one fucking bit.
âThey offered me a meeting, Sunshine.â Ben snapped. âYouâre not invited.â
âI go where you go, Pretty Boy.â Her words pushed through gritted teeth. âSo unless theyâre coming here, Iâm going with you.â
âYou seem real confident I wasnât about to tell Butcher to shove the offer up where the sun donât fucking shine.â Ben glared down at her, and She rolled her eyes.
âOh, please,â she scoffed. âYou wouldâve woken me up so you could have an audience. You didnât want me to know.â
âNot everything is about you, Sunshine.â Ben growled, most of his anger now angled at how fucking correct she was.
âReally? Because you stealing my phone and very purposefully not telling me about the meeting feels like it might be about me just a little!â
 âWell, if you would give me a fucking phone of my own-â
âThat not the fucking point, Ben! Why didnât you fucking tell me about this!â She yelled, the room becoming thick with smoke.
âI donât have to fucking tell you everything! Youâre not my goddamn partner!â
Her heart stuttered, face dropping into a scowl, and Ben felt something start to eat at him in his chest.
âFine.â She didnât look at him as she spoke, and it made the Thing turn his blood to lead and squeeze his chest tightly. âWhatever.â She threw the phone at him, and Ben had hardly caught it when She turned and walked back into the room, door slamming behind her.
Ben almost moved to follow Her, lurching forward to push after her and insist she fucking listen to him, that he hadnât fucking told her for a damn good fucking reason, but the phone started to buzz again, this time displaying Call From, Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions along with a photo of MM flipping off the camera. Ben glanced to the door, hearing Her heart moving faster by the second as her breath became short and shaky, and hit the red button.
Heâd barely made it a step when the phone started buzzing again, MM calling once more. Growling in frustration, Ben pressed the red button again, only from it to buzz with a series of those fucking banners.
Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions
Fucking pick up.
Butcher said you and Soldier Boy were fighting.
If you donât fucking pick up right now Iâm driving over and yelling at you.
Or Iâm sending Annie.
Ben glowered in disbelief at the phone, stone-like, hot rage filling through him. How fucking dare they even fucking think that Ben might fucking hurt her like fucking Homelander when thatâs exactly what he was trying to fucking avoid-Â
This time, when the phone rang, Ben slammed the green button.
MMâs voice, sharp with relief, said Her name through the speaker. âFucking hell, pick up the first time, you were going to give me a goddamn heart attack-â
âWhat the fuck is your problem.â Ben snapped, and the line fell so silent Ben thought it had dropped.â
After what must have been a fucking eternity, MM spoke, his voice firm and cold. âSoldier Boy, put Her on the phone right fucking now.â
âSheâs not talking to me,â Ben said, ignoring the way the Thing became pained at his words.
âI swear to fucking God, if you donât put her on right fucking now Iâll knock out myself and ship you back to Russia. If you fucking laid one disgusting hand on her-â
âI didnât fucking touch her.â Ben growled, the drums falling into rhythm with his fury. âI am not fucking Homelander.â
 âYou think Iâm just going to fucking trust you about that? Butcher said you had a fight, and now youâre picking up her phone. If it walks like a Soldier Boy, talks like a Soldier Boy, then you fucking hurt her.â
â I didnât fucking hurt her! â Ben roared at the phone, and Butcherâs voice came, muffled, through the speaker.
âIs that him? Give me the fucking phone, I need to talk to the cunt.â
âNo,â MMâs voice was distant now, shouting at Butcher. âI need to make sure this motherfucker didnât-â
âShe canât die Mate, sheâs bloody fine. Give me the fucking phone.â There were sounds of shuffling, and when Butcher spoke again his voice was loud and crisp. âStuck in the rotten bloody dog house, eh Gov?â
âShut the fuck up.â Ben snapped. âItâs none of your fucking business.â
âI mean, if you start to hurt her might as well fucking be-â
âFucking watch it, Butcher.â Ben hissed. âThe only person in danger right now is your fucking pussy ass.â
âWell, arenât we touchy.â Butcher sneered.
âYou want your fucking answer or not?â Ben glanced back at the door, where She had become suspiciously quiet. The only sign of life Ben had to grasp was her uneven heartbeat, and even that was soft.
Butcher sighed dramatically through the phone. âIf you want to suck all the bleedin fun out of it, fine. Whatâs it gonna be, Soldier Boy? Am I telling Homelander and Sage to find a wood chipper to stick their asses and heads in?â
âIâm in.â Ben said shortly, firmly. âCome and get me when itâs ready.â
âThatâll be in,â there was a slight pause before Butcher continued. âEight hours.â
 âEight hours?â Ben repeated with a frown. âYou pussies think you can get everything ready in eight fucking hours?â
âWeâve been ready for a week, Gov.â Butcherâs voice sounded fucking smug, and Ben wished he could punch the man through the phone. âLetâs just say I had a good feeling about your answer.â
âFine. Eight hours. But if youâre not here on time, Iâm not fucking going.â Ben didnât wait for Butcherâs snarking, bitch-mouthed questions or mockery before he hung up, finally marching over to Her door and pushing it open.
She wasnât on the bed. Or the floor. Or on the tacky armchair. Or at the shitty desk. She wasnât in the room at all, and Benâs heart fucking stopped, the drums building and building. He was fucking seconds away from tearing the whole damn room apart when he noticed the bathroom door hanging open, the lights off but the fans humming filling the room in time with taps of Moon River, both covering her already faint heartbeat.
âSunshine?â He grunted, and heard Her heart stutter. âI have your phone.â
She didnât answer, and Ben took a few steps closer to the door, abandoning the phone on Her bed.
âI know youâre in there,â he said Her name carefully. âI can fucking hear you.â
Still nothing. The Thing was grabbing Ben so tight he had to think to breathe.
âAre you still fucking pissed at me about the meeting?â He snapped, trying to fight the Thing and get Her just fucking acknowledge him. âBecause if thatâs what the fucking silent treatment is about, I donât-â
Something cluttered in the bathroom, and She appeared at the door. Her eyes were red, face drawn in an angry scowl, and even from his place a few feet away, Ben could feel the heat off of her. But what made the Thing start to claw, feral and fucking desperate, at Benâs ribs, was that She didnât look angry or violent. She didnât even look sad and broken. She just looked empty.
âI donât want to talk to you.â She said flatly, watching Ben with hollow eyes. âIâm not giving you the silent treatment. I just donât want to talk to you.â
âYouâre being fucking dramatic-â
âAm I?â She shrugged. âWhat a fucking inconvenience.â
âWhat the fuck is your problem?â Benâs voice was rising, and he couldnât fucking stop it, especially as She didnât even flinch. âItâs not like I fucking laid hands on you!â
She let out a low, humorless laugh. âYeah, sure. Good work, Ben. Real white horse moment, you didnât beat me up.â
âThatâs not what I fucking meant and you damn know it.â
âMaybe.â She sighed again. âAre you done?âÂ
âNot until you fucking tell me what youâre fucking problem is-â
âWhy should I?â She said flatly, looking away from him. âWe donât have to tell each other everything.â
Ben stared at Her as she still didnât meet his eyes, her wordsâhis wordsâechoing through his head, the Thing twisting in his throat. âIs that what youâre being so fucking bitchy about? That I didnât fucking tell you about one goddamn thing?â
Something flashed in Her eyes, and even though it was a bone-chilling rage, Ben felt something unwind deep in his gut that she wasnât just fucking vacant.
âYou didnât just not tell me about one thing, you fucking lied to me.â Something in Her voice snapped. âYou said you hadnât heard from Butcher! You said we were fucking benched, when it was just fucking me! When Butcher had told you about Homelanderâs stupid fucking offer and not me!â Her voice was climbing to a raw, broken scream. âYou said you wouldnât fucking lie.â Her words were choked. â You fucking lied, Ben. â
In his life, Ben had been an asshole a damn lot, and though heâd never managed to be bothered by itâhe wasnât a fucking emotional pussy and it wasnât his goddamn fault that everyone else wasâit hadnât stopped people from screaming at him, calling him every foul name in the English language, and wishing pain upon him both to his face and behind closed doors. This was, for some fucking reason Ben didnât want to even spare a thought to, worse then all of that in every fucking way imaginable. Her silent sobs that she seemed to be trying to push down her throat, Her refusal to fully look at him for more than a second, Her voice as she screamed at him so fucking shattered and anguished.
He shouldnât fucking care. It wasnât a big fucking deal, it had been one little lie. Fuck, it hadn't even been a damn lie, just an omission. She was being fucking dramatic.
You hurt Her. The Thing hissed at him. You promised you wouldnât hurt Her, and you did.
No, he fucking didnât. He hadnât laid a single finger on her.
People donât act like that if theyâre not hurt.
He hadnât fucking hurt Her. If anything, She was fucking hurting him with her broken eyes and sobs.
The Thing was trying to burst out of him. Sheâs broken because you hurt her. Because she trusted you, and you lied.
It was her own damn fault, then. Ben wouldnât even fucking trust himself, and he certainly hadnât forced Her to.
But she did. The Thing growled. For some fucking reason, She trusted you. And you fucking hurt her. Like fucking Homelander.
That was it. Ben wasnât like fucking Homelander. He hadnât fucking hurt her. But she was still fucking crying, backing away from him into the shadows as he just stood there like a fucking dickless asshole.
So, against all of his better judgment, Ben let the Thing win. Once. Never fucking again, but right now he just needed Her to stop fucking hurting, and if the Thing could make him fix this, then Ben would let it win just fucking once.
He took a step towards Her, and something wrapped around his lungs released as She let Ben wrap her shaking body into his arms, let him pull her head against his chest and keep her there. They stood there, Ben holding Her until her breathing steadied and body cooled. Whenâafter what was either a second or a yearâshe whispered, her voice carried into and through Benâs body.Â
âIâm sorry-â She started, but he pulled back to look down at her, and she cut herself off as she met his gaze.Â
âDonât be. You wereâŠâ the words struggled out of him, the Thing pushing them up. âNot wrong.â
She gave a shaky laugh, and that carried through Ben too. âI was still being a bitch. Youâre right, we donât have to tell each other everything-âÂ
âNo.â He cut Her off fully this time, and she blinked up at him, eyes wide and pretty. Ben swallowed, forcing himself to stop starting like a pathetic asshole and just fucking talk. âI told you I had nothing to hide. I fucking meant it.â
She tilted her head at him, watching him with a look he didnât understand. âThen why did you lie?â
Her voice was soft, and the Thing was making an awfully fucking convincing argument to never let her go.
âI didnât lie.â Ben grunted, and was met with a flat look and a pinch on his arm.
âBen.â
He rolled his eyes, grip around Her tightening. âI didnât fucking lie, Sunshine. I just-â
âOmitted the truth?â She gave him a small smile, and the Thing jumped. âThatâs a form of lying, Pretty Boy.â
 âWell, I knew youâd have a fucking opinion about this like you do for every damn thing, and maybe I just didnât want fucking to hear it.â
âHm,â She narrowed her eyes at him. âWhat did you think Iâd say?â
âTo go.â He stared ahead as he spoke, silently hoping Sheâd, for once in her fucking life, be satisfied with his answer.
He shouldâve known a lot damn better by now.
âThat it?â
Benâs gaze dropped back down to Her, loathing how the light of the dawn was pushing through the curtains, casting her face in soft light that fit her stupid fucking perfect face so well. Ben loathed even more that she wasnât scowling at him, wasnât even glaring, just watching with an amused, gentle look of I donât believe you, Ben. Youâre a fucking shit liar, and itâs funny you think youâre not.
Ben wanted to tell Her that, no, he was actually an amazing fucking liar. Heâd managed to jerk himself off multiple times a day for the past week and she had no fucking clue.
Instead, he rolled his eyes at Her, trying to imitate that boring, amused tone of Hers that always made him fucking insane. âYou wouldâve fucking tried to go as well. And thatâs only happening over my dead fucking body.â
She gave a small, fake annoyed huff. âThatâs not fair. You canât die.â
âIâm serious.â Ben frowned. âHomelanderâs going to be there. Youâre not fucking going, Sunshine.â
She blinked at him with that same look from before, confusing the fucking hell out him. âBut-â
âNo.â Ben forced himself to pull away from Her, snarling in his head at the Thingâs whining as he did so. âEnd of fucking discussion. This isnât like Firecracker, where Homelander might be there. He will be. Youâre not fucking going.â
She frowned, arms folding across her chest in a way that pushed her tits forward-
Ben swore at himself. This was getting fucking ridiculous.
âYouâre not my boss, Ben. If I want to go, Iâm going.â
âSunshine, I donât know if you recently went deaf-â Ben ignored her scoff. âOr are just suddenly very fucking stupid, but you keep somehow missing the part where Homelander is going to be there.â
âI can fucking hear you, cunt, I just-â
âAre being a fucking brat on purpose? I donât even think you fucking want to go, I think you just donât like me being fucking right.â
Her lips pursed and the gnawing began, but She remained silent as she glared up at him. Ben felt both a rush of triumph and a breath of weird fucking relief from the Thing.
âHow about this, Sunshine. Theyâll be here in a little more than seven hours. You convince them to let you go, I wonât fight it. But-â Ben lowered his tone, making it clear as fucking day that he was being goddamn serious. âIf they say no, you stay here without any fucking dramatics.â
She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded, and extended her hand. âDeal.â
Ben snorted. âYou want to fucking shake on it?â
âWant to prove youâre the noble fucking asshole gentleman youâre always bragging about being?â She nodded down to her hand. âFucking shake on it, Pretty Boy.â
Ben winked at Her. âIâm no fucking gentleman, Sunshine. Thought your pretty little head wouldâve figured that out by now.â
She only glared. âIf you donât shake my hand right fucking now, Iâm fulfilling my promise about melting off your face and then going to the meeting by myself.â
âBrat,â Ben muttered, and the Thing fucking purred in goddamn satisfaction as he heard her heart did that little roll. It still didnât fucking mean anything worth mentioning, Ben decided. It just meant She wasnât that mad at him anymore, and that was why the relief was fucking consuming him. Because She was back to her normal self, getting on every last fucking nerve of his without any damn tears.
âCunt.â She flexed her hand, and, frowning, Ben gave Her a firm shake. A smile split across Her face, and though her eyes were still red and tired, there was no hint of that emptiness remaining. âLovely. I look forward to attending the meeting.â
Ben found it adorable that She believed he wouldâve even fucking offered the deal if he thought a single goddamn member of her team would let her go. They had trained like normal, Ben changing into his suit afterwardâbecause there was no fucking way Butcher was making him go in goddamn sweatsâand they had spent the remaining hours leading up to the meeting on the couch, watching TV in what would have been uneasy silence, had it not been for Her leaning into his side with an ease of someone who had done it a million times. Ben somehow managed to stay still, both shutting the Thing up with inner, vulgar threats, and exerting an impressive amount of stealth in concealing his boner, which had returned with a vengeance Ben didnât fucking appreciate. Andâas he had predictedâwhen Butcher arrived with the French Prick and Kimiko, there was universal agreement that She wasnât allowed to be in attendance.
âThis is fucking bullshit!â She yelled at Butcher, giving his chest a firm shove. Ben was a little impressed the man didnât topple over or cower in fear, but Butcher would never get to fucking know it.
âSorry, Love, but Soldier Boyâs right. Youâd just be a bloody problem that we ainât got time to deal with.â Butcher turned to Ben, giving a sweeping gesture to the door. âAfter you, Gov.â
âHow are you going to control Ben, huh?!â Her voice was desperate, and the Thing wanted to hold her again, despite Benâs annoyance at Her apparent lack of fucking faith in him. âWhat if he goes rogue? And Iâm not there to stop him?!â
âFuck you too, Sunshine.â Ben muttered, and She shot him a glare.
âShut up, this isnât about you.â
He snorted, and She stuck her tongue out at him.
âYou cunts can stand here and eye-fuck each other as long as you bloody please, but when Soldier Boy finally gets off and we go, youâre staying here, Love.â
âBut what if-â
The French Prick said Her name smoothly. âDo not worry, madame. The CIA gave me enough of their gas to knock out all of Espagne, and I mixed with my own cocktail of fun, so if the connard goes nuclear-â The French Prick gave Ben a smirk. âI will knock his arse to sleep before he can even say oops.â
Ben glowered at the French Prick, the drums sounding distantly. He could fucking control himself, this was goddamn unnecessary, and he fucking doubted their pussy fucking gas would even damn work on him. But She was starting to look like she might just run out door and chase the van theyâd brought all the way to wherever Butcher had planned the meeting, so Ben clenched his fists and ignored the approaching rhythm.
âLetâs just get this fucking over it.â He grunted, pushing around Butcher to the door.
âThatâs more bloody like it,â Butcher smirked. âLet get this fucking show on the damn road, Gov.â
Ben glanced back once before he stepped outside, half hoping to see Her watching himâeven if it was with an angry glare of when you get back Iâm going to cut your dick offâbut found Her exchanging those weird fucking gestures with Kimiko, her face cast in a shadow so he couldnât read it.
Kimiko eventually turned, walking past Ben and through the door, and his eyes met Hers.
Donât fucking die, Pretty Boy. Her frown told him.
The Thing wanted to stay there. It didnât want to bring Her, even it wasnât that fucking stupid. But it was roaring around in him just the fucking anticipation of leaving Her.
âDonât fucking miss me too much, Sunshine.â Ben said, adding a wink before he turned.
He didnât miss her sharp exhale, or her mumbled words, before the door closed between them. âIâll try.â
Because Butcher was out to fucking get him, the something that had been set up to hold Ben was just the vanâimproved by a deadbolt Ben was pretty fucking sure he could snap in half without a thoughtâalong Kimiko glaring at him and the French Prick holding a can of gas. For the first half hour, Butcher humming something Ben didnât recognizeâbut was still certain was off-key and tempoâwas the only sound aside from the engine. Ben broke after deciding that, if Kimiko and the French Prick kept doing those fucking gestures at each other, heâd have to take his bets with the gas and kill them both.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â Ben grunted, and they both turned to look at him.
â Que? â The French Prick looked him up and down wearily.
Ben mimed their gestures. âThe fuck is that.â
âMonsieur Soldier Boy-â The French Prick was cut off as Kimiko hit his arm, gesturing aggressively when his attention turned to her. â Mon Coeur, there is no harm in him knowing.â
âKnowing what?â Ben scowled, and Kimiko glared at him, continuing her movements as the French Prick shook his head.
âShe does not want me to tell you,â the French Prick frowned, beginning to gesture himself. âAlthough, Madame Anomaly-â
 âDonât call her that.â Ben snapped.
The French Prick blinked, and Kimiko, frowned, doing more gestures that involved a lot of fucking pointing at Ben.
â Mon Coeur, please, itâll make it easier.â Kimiko rolled her eyes, but sat back with a huff. The French Pricks attention returned to Ben. âThis is how she speaks.â
âYeah, I fucking figured that out myself.â Ben said with an eye roll. âWhy is she a fucking mute?â
Kimiko flipped Ben off, and he glared at her as the French Prick sighed. âHer parents were killed, right before her eyes. She has said no words since.â
âOh.â Ben frowned, narrowing his eyes as he looked between them. âFine.â
Kimiko let out another huff, gesturing to the French Prick once more.
â Non, she could not come instead. Homelander is too big of a threat to her.â The Thing started to push against him as Ben realized they were talking about Her. âMon Couer, she would not have just stayed in the van -â
Ben cut the French Prick off, saying Her name harshly. âDoes she know?â He mimed the gestures again, and decided to pretend for Kimikoâs sake he didnât see her eye roll. âIâve seen her fucking waving her hands at you, so donât fucking lie to me.â
â Oui,â the French Prick said, sounding more tired by the fucking second. âWhen she joined us, she insisted we teach her.â
âOf course she did.â Ben grumbled. She was too damn kind for her own fucking good. One day it was going to get Her fucking killed.
The Thing didnât like that thought, rearing against his throat, and Ben could almost fucking hear her response.
Me being kind is a lot less likely to get me killed than being a dick to everyone all the fucking time is, Pretty Boy. You should follow my example.
Maybe he would, Ben smiled to himself. Not to be kind, that was fucking stupid, but because if he followed Her he would be able to save her dumbass when he was proven right. Plus, he liked watching Her walk. She always moved with such fucking purpose, her hips doing a little sway and her hair bouncing, it was really fucking hot.
The French Prick coughed, opening his mouth to say something and snapping Ben out of his thoughts.
âHow much longer until weâre there?â Ben said before the French Prick had gotten a syllable out, having no interest in whatever had been about to be said, especiallyâif his suspicion was correctâabout Her.
âAlmost there, Gov.â Butcher called from the front.
âAnd there fucking is?â
âFBSA HQ.â
Ben was going to take Butcherâs asshole and bend him until it was next to his mouth, and Butcher had to swallow his own fucking shit forever. âFucking words, you dickfaced pussy.â
Butcher snorted. âFederal Bureau of Supe Affairs. You ainât thick enough to not get HQ by your bloody self.â
âYou let them choose it?â Ben scowled at the back of Butcherâs head. âOr man the fuck up and this is your fucking pick?â
âCompromise, Mate.â Butcher grinned, toothy and mocking, in the rearview mirror. âWe wanted somewhere public, they wanted somewhere private. Government property is the middle ground.â
âFucking pussy.â Ben muttered under his breath, and as Butcher laughed coldly, the van came to a halt.
âLetâs get a bloody move on.â Butcher stood from his seat. âLot of shit to do and not much fuckin time to get it done.âÂ
At the request of the buildingâs securityâsome fucking pussy shit about not inciting a panic by having Soldier Boy walk into the lobby of a government buildingâBen was herded through a back entrance, Butcher leading them through the flickering halls and up the elevator as the French Prick and Kimiko walked a pace behind, the French Prick gripping the gas like a pussy with a fucking lifeline.
When they entered the meeting room, a fucking insane amount of floors up and through a goddamn stupid amount of doors, Homelander was pacing back and forth before a floor-to-ceiling window as Sage and another womanâone Ben didnât recognize in shiny fucking pantsuit with long black hairâsat on the far side of a conference table.
âOi!â Butcher reached to his back, pulling out a gun and aiming it at the pantsuit lady. âShe wasnât on the fucking guess list.â
âNeither were they,â Sage said cooly, inclining her head towards Kimiko and the French Prick. âSo we all broke a promise, and itâs even.â
âAnd put that away, William.â Homelander said, giving Butcher a large smile and a dismissive wave. âYou look ridiculous. Vicky here will pop your brains before you even switch off the safety.â
âDonât call me Vicky,â the womanâs voice was tense, giving Homelander weary side-eye. âBut he is right, Butcher. You know that wonât hurt any of us.â
âMaybe.â Butcher sneered. âBut Iâm a man of science, Iâd like to bloody see for myself.â
âJust sit down so we can get this over with,â Sage ordered, looking over her shoulder to where Homelander still stood, chest puffed and hands on hips. âHomelander, that means you as well.â
Homelander glared down at Sage before turning his gaze to Butcher, and then Ben.
He looked fucking pathetic, just as fucking weak as Ben remembered. Still wearing a fucking cape like a pussy, still strutting around like a goddamn toddler, looking fucking desperate for fucking approval. The only differenceâsomething Ben wasnât sure was new from their last meeting or something he saw because of Herâwas the edge in Homelanderâs eyes. The pussyfucker had looked psychotic, eyes too fucking blue and smile too fucking wide, but there was something crazed behind his movements. Something a lot more fucking careless. A lot more fucking dangerous.
âSoldier Boy.â Homelander said, voice level as that same insanity glinted in his eyes.
Ben kept his voice level as he responded, fighting every instinct to slam the weak pussies head into the glass of the window. âHomelander.âÂ
âCan you both just sit down?â Sage said, exasperated as she looked between them. âThe longer you measure your dicks at each other, the longer this goes.â
Homelander didnât move, so Ben didnât either.
âFine,â Sage rolled her eyes. âStand the whole time for all I fucking care.â She leaned forwards, clasping her hands on the table. âWe asked you here to-â
âWho the fuck is she.â Ben pointed at the pantsuit lady, who nobody had thought to fucking clue him in on the identity of.
âVictoria Neuman, Vice President of the United States.â The woman said, giving Ben a cool smile. âI believe you tried to kill me a month ago.â
Ben frowned. âHead-popper.â
Neuman sighed. âYeah, sure. Head-popper.â
"Howâd you even get away from your security cunts?â Butcher mused, eyeing Neuman. âVought put them on payroll?â
She turned her frown to Butcher. âAs you know, the secret service is a lot more inept than the public is led to believe. They think I ate bad seafood last night, and am pushing it out in a restroom three floors down.â
âWell, donât I feel just peachy about having them protecting this great nation against threats.â Butcher jeered, and Neuman narrowed her eyes.
âYou blew up my rally, Butcher. That was literally political terrorism.â
Butcher shrugged. âThat particular firework show wasnât mine, Popper.â
Homelander gave a toothy grin, walking forward to stand at the edge of the table. âIt was her, wasnât it?â He looked down at Sage. âI fucking told you, didnât I? I said that it reminded me of her, and you said it wasnât. Well I was fucking right.â The last words came out hissed through teeth, his smile never breaking.
Ben wanted to tear it off his face. The Thing was in favor of that plan.
âI said it wasnât because, at the time, I thought she was dead. Like youâd told me she was.â Sage frowned.
Homelander shrugged, dropping into one of the seats and gripping the armrests. âHow was I supposed to know she survived the fire? Those fucking scientists didnât put down that sheâd developed fire powers.â
âYou said she combusted.â
âAnd caused the fire!â Homelander rolled his eyes. âIt was a perfectly rational train of thought! She takes the fourth V shot, fire starts, sheâs gone!â His face fell, body tensing as his eyes narrowed at Butcher across the table. âI didnât think William had stooped to kidnapping.â
âKidnapping?â Butcher laughed in disbelief. âYou think I kidnapped her?â
Homelander sighed dramatically, gesturing his gloved hands as he spoke. âYou kidnapped Soldier Boy! Twice!â
 âNobody kidnaps me.â Ben growled, taking the seat next to Butcher. âIâm here because I fucking want to be.â
âYeah,â Sage interjected. âAnd the can of gas is just⊠decoration?â Her attention turned to the French Prick. âEnflurane?âÂ
â Oui,â the French Prick looked fucking proud of himself as he answered. âCombined with Agent Orange and mustard gas.â
Neuman gave the French prick a stare of shocked disgust. âFrenchie, how did you get your hands on Agent Orange?!â
âI made my own, Madame Neuman. With a little extra kick.â
Ben glared at Butcher. âThat shit better staying in the fucking can.â
âYou stay in line, and weâll all pretend itâs not even bloody there.â
â Stay in line? â Homelander scoffed. âYou let them talk to you like that? When you could squash each one like a fly? â
âStay on topic.â Sage warned. âWe have an actual reason for being here, and I would like to get to it.â
âI second that,â Neuman raised her hand. âI want to go home.â
âNobodyâs fucking making you be here, Popper.â Butcher sneered at her. âYou can leave whenever you bloody feel like it.â
Neuman ignored him with an ease, and Ben liked her a little more.
âWe asked you here,â Sage began. âTo talk. About the Anomaly. And Soldier Boy.â
âYeah, I bloody figured.â Butcher said casually, face painfully bored. âWhat about them?â
âYour plans. Specifically with her. I want to know them.â Sage watched Butcher carefully as she spoke, gaze flicking to Ben only once.
Butcher laughed, loudly. âOh, that all? Could this not have been a damn email Iâd fucking delete?â
âIâm serious, Butcher.â Sage didnât waver, pressing forward. âIâm curious what your plans are with the Anomaly. Sheâs not exactly stable. I want to know exactly how you plan on keeping her under control, especially after Firecracker.â
The Thing roared, and Ben didnât fucking mind it at all. Images of Her curled on her bed, of Her sobbing in arms, of Her looking fucking afraid and hopeless flashed in Benâs eyes. Her screams, broken and painful, longing for fucking death, echoed in his ears. Benâs own hands had become fists under the table, and the only thing keeping him from slamming them across Sageâs face was Her voice in his head. Fucking diplomacy, Ben. This is why you needed me here.
Homelander started to speak, and Ben remained fully fucking confident in not bringing Her. Damn ghost of her voice could whine all it wanted, but the real Her was miles away, and fucking safe.
âYou know not to touch her, right?â Homelander asked, looking between Butcher, Ben, the French Prick, and Kimiko. âSheâll tell you to, say itâs to heal you, but sheâs actually poking around in your fucking brains. Well,â his eyes stopped on Kimiko with a frown. âIf you have a functional one.â
Kimiko glared at him, and the French Prick rested a hand atop her leg. âI would not make her mad,â the French Prick said carefully. âShe has a remarkably functional brain, and has grown quite fond of the Anomaly.â
Homelander let out laugh, strained and forceful. âOf course she has,â he said Her name with a lilting, bright tone, and the Thing started clawing and bellowing inside Ben. âA lot more than just a pretty face, isnât she? Crafty little thing, could charm a slug.â His attention returned to Butcher. âShe sang for you yet? Thatâs how she works her little fucking spell. Sinks her claws into you until to giving her fucking everything. â The last words were spat out, and Homelander wasnât smiling anymore.
The Thing was howling, but Ben pushed it down, teeth were grinding so tightly he might break them.
âYou think you gave her everything? â Butcher sneered at Homelander, giving a taunting chuckle. âMate, she goes cuckoo at just the mention of your name.â
âSo, you know she canât control herself?â Sage ignored Homelanderâs glareâhis mouth had opened to respond to Butcherâas she cut him off. âAnd yet you enable her anyways? Why?â
âListen, Sister. If you brought us here just to ask questions about the Anomaly, youâve only wasted your own bloody time. We ainât âsharing our plansâ with you.â Butcher scoffed. âI thought you were supposed to be smart.â
âI am smart,â Sageâs voice remained level. âI canât be blamed for you not cooperating.â
âYou just asked us for our fucking plans, Lady. If that had been our war strategy against the Naziâs, weâd have fucking lost.â Ben interjected, and Sage raised her brows at him.
âMaybe.â Was all Sage said, and a chill ran through Ben.
âThat it, then? Cause weâll be on our fucking way.â Butcher started to stand, and Sage raised her hand to stop him.
âWhat about Soldier Boy, then,â Sage asked as if Ben wasnât right fucking there. âHe has debilitating PTSD, and has proven to be a liability. Even if you get a shot, thereâs no guarantee heâll be able to fully control his blast.â
âWho says thatâs what weâre planning?â Butcher snapped. âIf it was, weâd just fucking do it now, wouldnât we?â
âNo.â Sage smiled. âBecause youâre smarter than that, Butcher. Not by much, but you are.â
âIs she healthy?â Homelander said suddenly, leaning forward. âIs she eating? Or still starving herself just to fucking spite me?â
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â Ben growled, the Thing was roaring inside him.
Homelander rolled his eyes. âWhen sheâd get all mournful about her old, stupid, boring life that I saved her from, sheâd starve herself. Wouldnât fucking eat anything I brought her, even cake! Just to make me mad!â He sighed. âI used to have to force her to eat, cause she was fucking useless when she would throw those little tantrums. When we started V, she was doing it so much the third shot didnât take! She made me waste it! â
Ben wasnât sure if it was the Thing or just his own rage coursing through him. It was like steel, burning steel through his blood that wanted to kill Homelander, moving into Benâs head and blinding him to any possible issues with that idea. He didnât fucking care. All Ben could feel was fucking fury, white and cold fury at Homelanderâs words. All that was in his head were thoughts of Her carefree and bloodless, of the life sheâd told him about, and of Her shrinking into nothing as it was pulled away from Her.Â
She hadnât fucking told Ben about the food. Sheâd eaten less after Firecracker, but sheâd still eaten. Homelander said heâd had to force food into Her.Â
Looking at Butcher, the French Prick, and Kimikoâall wearing similar expressions of horrified, shocked angerâBen had a feeling She hadnât told them about it either.
âI thought Iâd wasted the fourth shot too,â Homelander continued, and Ben didnât know if he hadnât noticed the cold shift in the room, or just didnât give a shit. âOh, I was mad about that. Wasnât I?â He turned to Neuman and Sage, but pressed on before they could speak. âI mean, neither of you were there, but I was. I was so mad. I thought Iâd lost her, too. It was awful.â
âIâm sure it was really bloody hard for you,â Butcher grunted, and Homelander rolled his eyes.
âI know youâre being sarcastic William, but it was. You have no clue what itâs like to lose someone like that!â
Butcherâs jaw clenched. âI might have a fucking idea.â
âOh, because of Becca? She was fun, believe me, I know.â Homelander laughed, and Ben had never seen Butcherâs knuckles so white before, heard his heart beat so fast. âBut she was mortal. Human.â Homelander said the word with disgust, face twisting in a sneer.
âThe Anomaly was human too,â Neuman said softy, and Homelander scowled at her.
âI fixed that. Now sheâs almost as strong as me. Almost as strong as you!â Homelander gestured at Ben, and Ben started fantasizing about ripping his hand off. âI would be open to a custody agreement, you know. You get Ryan for a week, I get her at the same time, we switch back.âÂ
âNot a fucking chance in hell,â Ben growled, and Homelander sighed.
âSheâll come back to me eventually. She needs me to help her, and when she realizes that Iâm the only one who can, sheâll come back.â
âI wouldnât hold your breath, cunt.â Butcher said coldly. âShe might have a slightly different memory of your time together. Are we fuckin done here?â Butcher turned to Sage, who hummed.
âSure.â Sage didnât look at Butcher, and Ben realized she was watching him. Her eyes were scanning Ben, sending a crawling feeling along his skin. âGood luck controlling him,â Sage nodded towards Ben. âAnd the Anomaly.â
âWeâll manage.â Butcher stood, the French Prick and Kimiko following his lead.
âI look forward to seeing whatever terrible plans youâve made.â Sage smiled, still watching Ben.
 âIâm sure you fuckin are.â Butcher sneered, kicking the legs of Benâs chair. âUp and at âem, Gov. Waste of our bloody time.â
Ben stood, moving from the table. Butcher was, for once in his damn life, right. This had been a complete waste of their fucking time, Sage had asked them here just to fuck with their heads, and all these fucking pussies hadnât even given Ben an opportunity to get any blood on his suit-
âYou know,â Homelander said, just before Butcher could open the door. âI never really understood Helen of Troy. I mean, launching a thousand ships with a face?â He laughed. âFucking ridiculous. Then, I met her, and I got it.â
The Thing was scraping against Benâs ribs, and his vision was lined with red as Homelander continued.
âShe may have betrayed me, like Helen betrayed Menelaus, letting Paris take her, but I forgive her. I want her to come home.â He gave Butcher a wide, toothy, chilling smile. âTell her Iâm going to make sure she comes home soon.â
Ben was going to kill him. Now. The French Prickâs gas wouldnât fucking stop him, because nothing fucking could. He was going to rip Homelanderâs spine from his back and bash his head against the table until his brains leaked from his ears. He didnât have his shield, or a gun, and there were no drums, but Ben didnât fucking need any of it. He was going to kill Homelander with his bare fucking hands.
The only thing that saved Homelander were the next words he spoke. âAnd, like Menelaus, Iâll do anything to bring her back to me.â
Ben had left Her at the safe house. Alone. The Thing had told him not to and heâd ignored it and now she was alone all by her fucking self and there was no one there to keep her safe-
Iâm a grown ass woman, Ben, Her voice echoed in his head. I will handle my goddamn self.
Doesnât fucking matter, the Thing snapped. Sheâs alone. They called you here so sheâd fucking be alone.
Ben turned, almost pulling the door off its hinges as he opened it. âLetâs fucking go.â He grunted to Butcher, and if the man was surprised by Benâs sudden movement, he didnât show it.
âAye aye, Gov.â Butcher shrugged, and as Ben marched down the hall he heard Butcher say one last thing before following. âWeâll see you all in bloody hell.â
Benâs body was rigid. His hand had dropped into his suitsâ pocket, gripping the crumpled piece of paper in it might suddenly make Her fucking appear. Nobody spoke until they returned to the van, and the Thing wouldnât stop hissing in his ear.
Sheâs alone. Sheâs not safe. Homelander might already know where she is, and sheâll freeze. Sheâll see him and freeze and heâll lock her up again.
âFrenchie,â Butcherâs terse words were barely audible over the ringing in Benâs ears. âCheck the cams.â
That got Benâs attention, the Thing falling silent as he asked, âCams?â
âMonitors,â Butcher grunted. âAll around the house.â He raised his brows at Ben, the smirk on his face slightly strained. âYou didnât think we just left you two alone together with blind fuckin faith?â
âButcher,â the French Prick held up a flat piece of glass that reminded Ben of Her phone. âShe is in the kitchen, all is well.â
Ben didnât bother to ask before he grabbed the fucking thing out of the French Prickâs hands. He narrowed his eyes as he examined it, the display filled with high angled videos of the safe house. The living room, completely empty and the TV off. The dining room, furniture shoved to the side with a few scorch marks on the floor. The entrance hall, lights off and Her boots near the door.
The kitchen, where She was moving around in the same clothes heâd left her in. Talking to someone they couldn't see.Â
Benâs blood ran cold, and the Thing was spinning in his gut.Â
âI canât fucking hear her.â Ben snapped, looking up at the French Prick. âSheâs talking to someone. Who the fuck is she talking to.â
âThe audioâs off, Mate.â Butcher rolled his eyes, giving Ben an amused look that, in any other scenario, wouldâve resulted in a loss of his sight privileges.
âTurn it on.â Ben ordered, and the French Prick glanced at Butcher uncertainty. Butcher only shrugged.
âDonât make no bloody difference to me. Whatever keeps the cunt from exploding.â
The French Prick nodded, and tried to grab the device from Ben with no success.
âFucking watch it,â Ben growled, gripping the glass blockâHerâtightly.
âI cannot give you sound if you will not let me touch the screen, Soldier Boy. Sâil te plaĂźt.â
âWhat the fuck does that mean.â
âHeâs fucking saying please, Gov.â Butcher gave Ben a bored look. âGive Frenchie the damn tablet, or you donât get to fucking hear Sunshine.â
Ben hated the way Butcher said Sunshine, drawling with a snipe in his voice. But he hatedâthe Thing hatedânot knowing what She was saying just a fucking fraction more, so Ben shoved the âtabletâ into the French Pricks hands.
âFix it.â He glared at French Prick, who nodded nervously and started tapping the glass in quick movements.
The audio sounded suddenly through the van, a lot louder than Ben had expected. Even Butcherâs heart stuttered as Her voice filled the small space. The Thing fell quiet, desperate to hear what She was saying, who she was saying it to, if she sounded afraid or in pain.
She didnât. She wasnât even talking to anyone. Ben watched Butcherâs jaw drop, the French Prickâs eyes widen, and Kimikoâs head shoot up as they all realized what they were hearing at the same time he did.
She was singing.Â
Her voice was clear, and controlled, and powerful. It rolled like wind, hitting every high and dipping to every low, holding long notes with a vengeful strength. It moved into Benâs bones, ran through his blood. The Thing sighed in fucking content at the sound, and Ben didnât fucking blame it. It sounded like honey and silk and the sun. It felt good.
âShe said she couldnât bloody sing.â Ben looked up at Butcher, whose voice was cold and face was drawn into frown. âThat sounds like she can fucking sing.â
Ben grunted. She had said she couldnât sing. Sheâd described her singing as hell-like. This wasnât fucking hell-like by a million goddamn miles.
âMaybe she had a reason,â the French Prick reasoned, but his voice was unsteady, unsure. âIt would be a very strange thing to lie about, non? â
Kimiko slapped the French Prick, gesturing something that made his eyes grow even fucking wider.
â Mon Coeur, why wouldnât she tell us though?â
More fucking silent gestures. Benâs patience snapped.
âWhat the fuck is she saying?â He demanded, and the French Prick looked back at him wearily.
âShe remembers something Homelander said.â The French Prick glanced back at Kimiko. âHe, ah, he asked if she had sung for us. Said that was how she ïżœïżœïżœworked her spellâ. Kimiko believes that she does not sing because of Homelander.â
âMate, sheâs singing right bloody now.â Butcher sneered, and Kimiko glared at him, making more aggressive gestures.
âShe says that she does not know people are watching.â The French Prick said carefully. âAnd that it does not matter, because it is not our business anyway. Because we are spying on her, and she would tell us if it really mattered.â
She would, the Thing rumbled inside of Ben, still satiated by Her voice. She doesnât lie to us.
She fucking might have, though. As strange a lie as it was, it was still a goddamn lie she had told him, countless times, that she couldnât sing. Ben glanced down at the tablet, trying to see Her face, figure out what she was fucking thinking.
She wasnât in the kitchen, and something sharp tore through Ben.
âWhere the fuck did she go?â He snapped at the French Prick, who looked down with a frown and began to press the screen once more.
 âAh,â his eyes narrowed, flitting across the display. âLikely the bathroom? She is not gone, as we can still hear her. She has just moved.â
Something occurred to Ben, tearing through his brain as it settled between torn comfort at Her safety and anger at her lie. âAre there cameras all over the house?â He asked, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat.
âNah, Gov.â Butcher gave him another amused look. âWe got audio everywhere, but no cameras in the bedrooms or bathrooms. We ainât fucking creeps.â
Ben grunted in acknowledgement, his own heart fading into the background once more. They hadnât seen his new habits. They didnât know, and they wouldnât tell Her.
You should tell Her, the Thing mumbled, somehow being less fucking helpful than ever before.
He wasnât going to fucking tell Her. He didnât fucking have to. In fact, as Her voice continued to flow like goddamn wine through the van, he was going to have a fucking chat with her when they got back. It didn't matter that her voice was just one more way in which she was perfect. Sheâd fucking lied.
But what made Ben even angrier than Her lie was that, no matter how fucking hard he tried, he wasnât able to stop wanting to get back to her. That the Thing wasnât angry, but had started to imagine how Sheâd sound if he had her singing and moaning at the same time. Ben couldnât force the image of Her, using this same smooth voice against his ear as his fucked her, stopping every time her voice faltered, until she was a perfect mess of beautiful sounds under him
He wasnât able to stop the feeling creeping through him that, even if She had lied, even if her reasoning was fucking shit, he wouldnât stop sleeping peacefully in her bed.
âââ-
You hated Ben. You hated his smug smile and perfect face. You hated his strong body and pretty eyes. You hated his stupid deep voice that rumbled through you and his laugh that echoed in your head. You hated how he wasnât here right now, so you could yell at him and not have this worry eating you alive. You hated that heâd left you for his own, fucked up, noble reasons, because when youâd hugged him youâd felt that concrete resolve running through him, and realized it was protectiveness. You hated how that revelation made you miss him more.Â
You hated that, if he wasnât back by nightfall, you werenât certain youâd fucking sleep. Because youâd made a huge mistake, let the desperate feeling in your head win, and asked Ben to sleep in your bed. It had felt so important at the time, because everything had been loud and your mind had been shattering, and heâd been quiet and firm. You had felt like a hurricane was eating you, and Ben had been an island that wrapped around your heart and chased away the storm. One night, you had told yourself. One night to chase away the screams.
Then heâd started calling you brat, and it made you feel warm and soft. Heâd laughed when youâd punch his jaw with a fist wrapped in flames, and youâd felt his pride rush through you. Heâd draped his arm around your shoulders, and youâd felt safe. And youâd started to get sleepy, and his hand had brushed your arm, and the feeling in your head had started singing. So you had caved to it again, and asked him to sit with you again. Youâd even given him an out, just until you fell asleep, because the feeling in your head had been desperate. So desperate that when Ben told you to beg, you had. You had sucked it upâignored how the request also made you feel warmâand begged. When heâd agreed, the feeling in your head had let out a long sigh of relief, even though youâd reminded yourself heâd probably return to his room once you were soundly under.
But he hadnât. Heâd stayed. Heâd slept. You had woken up, feeling something heavy on around you. Your heart had felt so peaceful, so calm, and when youâd opened your eyes youâd realized Benâs were closed. After youâd decided that he was actually asleep, youâd noticed that the heavy thing was his arm, holding you against him. And that made the feeling in your head start to ache. Then youâd noticed that Ben snored. Loudly. It was a deep, lulling sound that had wrapped around you, and pulled you right back into sleepâs hold.
The next night, youâd been tearing your insides apart, trying to fight the feeling in your head from grabbing your tongue and making you ask him to sleep in your bed again, when heâd look at you in the glow of the TV and solved the problem for you.
âItâs late.â Heâd said, and youâd scoffed.
âReally?â Your voice had been sarcastic, and youâd given him a fake, wide-eyed look of disbelief. âI thought the Sun had just decided to take fifteen.â âShut up, brat.â Heâd smirked back at you, and your whole body had done a little flip under your skin, the feeling in your head spreading everywhere. âYouâre tired.âÂ
He hadnât been asking. Heâd been telling. And been entirely correct in a way that made the Feeling very happy and you very annoyed. âNo, Iâm not. Cunt.â Your protest had sounded weak, especially given that youâd almost immediately yawned after saying it.Â
âSunshine, you look like shit.â Youâd frowned at him, and heâd rolled his eyes as he continued. âPretty shit, but shit.â
The Feeling liked being called pretty. You were caught up on the shit aspect. âYou donât look any better,â youâd grumbled. It wasnât true, he looked so good it made you violent, but he didnât have to know that.
Ben had winked. âSure, Sunshine. Just try not to pass out on the couch. I donât want sit here all night, but thereâs no fucking way Iâm carrying you up the stairs.â
It had taken a moment to notice his implication, and when you had the Feeling become heavy. âYouâre sleeping in my bed again?â
He hadnât looked at you when heâd answered with a shrug. âSure.â
And that was that. Heâd started to spend the night in your bed, youâd started to sleep eight hours instead of four, and heâd started to sleep three instead of zero.
Overall it might not have been a mistake, just a very productive arrangement, if it hadnât made the feeling big. If it hadnât started to feel so instinctual and easy that, now that there was even the prospect of him not being here by nightfall, you felt wired. The Feeling was electric, and was making you miss him, and you were going to go insane.
Donât fucking miss me too much, Sunshine. Benâs last words before heâd left mocked you, and you wanted him to come back so you could punch him for jinxing you like that. Heâd been gone for barely an hour, and the Feeling was all across you, missing him.
You were alone, without him for the first time in almost two months, and all you could do was miss his stupid face and safe touch. This was not a long-term, sustainable way of life. Youâre still productiveâYou do laundry, yours and Benâs, and you wash dishes, and you swap out Benâs empty, pine-scented body wash for a full one that was under the cupboardâbut the whole time youâre just missing him.
You reasoned that it wasnât actually Ben himself that was clawing at you. You just hadnât really been aloneâor at least alone without fearing for your life every waking secondâsince before Homelander took you. And at that point, if you had felt this antsy, jumping feeling of uselessness, youâd been able to go for a walk. Call a friend. Go to a coffee shop.
Now it was just you, the safe house, and plague-like thoughts of Ben.
Just you. Nobody else. Nobody even near you.
You could sing. Nobody was here, so you could sing.
It started slow. You hummed Moon River, feeling out what happened.
Fractured memories began to surround you. The kitchen of the safe house faded into the background, and you were standing in a hazy version of your childhood bedroom. You felt something soft in your hands, and looked down to see your baby blanket your hands. When you looked back up, your mother was before you. Smiling, her face so much softer than it ever was outside of hazy, warped fantasies of childhood. You could feel a breeze coming from somewhere, and when you turned your gaze to the ceiling, it was gone. Instead a vast night sky hung over your head, complete with stars and a moon that was far too large, glowing brightly. By the time you reached the end of the song, soft instrumentals had begun to fill the space.
Youâd never done that before. Though youâd also never really tried. You hadnât test yourself since youâd realized what singing did, right after the third shot of V.
You chose a different song. Another one your mother had loved, another one she used to make you sing at chandelier light and champagne filled parties. Then, suddenly, you were there. In a gaudy, marble ballroom, your skin itching from lace that was too revealing, your mother smiling, the senator on her arm, visible through the faceless crowd. When you turned your head, Violet was at your side, and you could feel your baby sisterâs grip on your hand. She wasnât looking at you though. Violet was watching one of the senator's largest donors through the crowd, frowning as he moved toward your mother. As he pointed at you.
Suddenly Violet was gone, and you were on a stage. Velvet carpet below you, lightâs blinding your view of the crowdâs vulture-like gaze. Your skin itchedâjust like it had at thirteenâbut you realized you could hear the instrumentals.
What else could you do? A little voice asked. This might be your only chance to find out.Â
So you sang. For the whole day.
You sang an older rock song your Dad loved, one that took you to a mold-filled apartment in Boston where the paint on the walls peeled and the bricks around the code-breaking fireplace cracked. You learned you could do drums.
You hummed a classical piece that your nerdy brother, Henry, used to make you listen to. That took you to your grandparentâs house, an old film with a now-familiar playing in the background as thin, old faces that always scowled watched you from far, far above. You learned you just do full orchestral, from woodwinds to strings to the cannon at the end.
You sang a pop song that Alexa, your other sister, had made you learn the choreography to, and that made you feel light and bubbly, the world around you turning into a glittery fever dream and the ground vanishing from your feet. You learned it didnât have to be memories.
You still couldnât control it, not in the slightest. You tried to see how small you could make the effects, but the most you could figure out was that the shorter the song, the less appeared. A fast run through of some nursery rhymes resulted in only brief aberrations of sheep and rain, gone in seconds. A full run through of an album threw you into a dreamscape, and by the end of it you realized it was less the song, and more you. If the song made you think of grand things, grand things surrounded you. If the song reminded you of the past, memories flooded the world.
If the song reminded you of Ben, he was there.
That one was an accidental discovery. Youâd gotten tired, realized youâd become sweaty from dancing with the music, and gotten in the shower. Youâd started to hum a slower song, a romantic song with long notes and soft piano, and expected the water to fill with phantom rose petals and hearts to draw on steamed glass.
Youâd frozen in surprise when youâd felt hands on your body, resting on your hips, and turned to find Ben standing above you, watching you with a smirk. Lookingâfeelingâvery, very real.
Your voice had died in your throat, heat creeping through your body, and Ben had vanished before you. That would have been bad enough, and mortification covering you might stay there for the rest of your life. Unfortunately for you, the Feeling wasnât embarrassed. The Feeling was needy, and just an absolute bitch that grabbed your jaw, and made you start singing again.Â
Ben reappeared, and this time his hands didnât just rest on your hips. They moved. Everywhere. Along your breasts, taunting, down to your ass, squeezing, and against your waist, hold you firmly as his head dropped to yours. Fake-Ben kissed you, and you were reduced to desperate humming to keep him intact. Had it not been for the Feeling, forcefully keeping your voice alive, youâd have moaned and the whole thing wouldâve disappeared. By some miracle, you keep your voice semi-steady, and Fake-Ben stayed. He kissed you deeper, beard soft against your skin, grip growing tighter as your hands wrapped around his neck. His mouth dropped from your own to rest at your neck, still kissing as one hand started to knead against your skin, the other dropping between your legs. Resting his palm right against you, drawing back to his full height with a smug, crooked smile as he started to rub. Smile growing as one finger teased your folds, the pushed into you, the base of his hand still grinding against that sensitive spot. Going and going and going-
You learned that, in both a gift and very cruel twist of fate, Fake-Ben could give you very real orgasms.Â
This was a very unproductive discovery for the Feeling, who wanted you to sing forever. The Feeling didnât care about who heard, the Feeling just wanted that to happen over and over again until you died. You, still aching, desperate, and dazed, were a very susceptible subject to the Feeling, who was making a lot of very good points.
Right up until you heard the door slam downstairs, and Benâreal Benâwas roaring your name.
You heard his heavy steps move up the stairs, and there was a pounding at your bedroom door. Ben yelled your name again, his voice sharp and angry. âI know youâre in there, Sunshine! I can hear your fucking heart!â
Swearing under your breath, you scrambled out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body as you stumbled to open the door. Not once had Benâs banging ceased, meaning that when you finally twisted the knob, he almost fell onto you from momentum. Though you managed to dodge his body, your shoulder brushed and a bolt of molten anger twisted through your gut and into your chest.
You stared at each for a second after Ben regained his balance.
âYouâre back.â You said stupidly.
âYou were showering.â He responded. Stupidity seemed to be going around.
âUh, I didnât think youâd be back for another few hours.â You mumbled, unsure if the guilt in your voice was from your misestimation of time or the Feeling pushing you to lean forward and touch him.
Benâs eyes narrowed, and his voice turned harsh. âClearly.â
âClearly?â You repeated with a frown. âItâs just a shower-â
âDid you know, Sunshine, that Butcher filled the house with cameras?â Ben asked with a scowl.
You could feel yourself pale. âWhat?â
âCameras. Everywhere but the bedrooms and bathrooms. To keep an eye on us. With audio.â
âAudioâŠâ Your eyes widened, and something heavy dropped on your chest. â Audio?â
Ben was watching you with that dissecting gaze, one you hadnât been on the receiving end of since the beginning. âAudio.â His face twisted into a sneer. âI was under the impression, Sunshine, that you couldnât fucking sing.â
There were two options here. One, double down. Lie through your teeth and stand your ground until it was pulled from under you. Two, come clean. Apologize a lot, try and feel out what Ben knew and what he didnât, and apologize some more.
You were in favor of the first. The Feeling was in favor of the second.
âI- um, I didnât mean- whatever you saw-â
âWhy did you lie?â Ben cut you off before you could even figure out what you had been trying to say. âAbout singing? Was it because of Homelander?â
The heavy thing was sitting in your lungs. The Feeling was spinning through you, and fire was crawling under your skin. âHomelander?â
âDid he make you sing for him? Is that why you donât?â
You stared at him with a slack jaw, the fire filling up in your ears. âWhat- How-â Your eyes narrowed as the fire drowned out the Feeling. âIâve never told anyone that, Ben. Not Butcher, not Annie or MM. Definitely not you.â
âWell,â he spat. âThat's two fucking lies then.â
Stand your ground it was. âThatâs not a fucking lie, dick-for-brains. Itâs a goddamn-â
â Omission?â He gave you a mocking, taut smile. âAn omission is a lie, Sunshine.â
The Feeling was loud again, spinning at the fact that he actually listened to your words. Fortunately your fury at him using those words against you was bigger. âShut the fuck up, Pretty Boy. This isnât the same as you purposefully hiding something important.â
âHow the fuck not?â Ben snapped. âIf this is because of Homelander, I need to fucking know-â
â Why?!â You shout, pushing his chest. âHow the fuck is this something you need to know?â
âSo I can fix-â
âFix it?â You laugh. âWe agreed not to fucking fix each other, remember? You donât get to come in a heal my music hangup when you wonât let me anywhere fucking near your PTSD!â
âI donât fucking have shell shock, like some fucking-â He growled, and you rolled your eyes.
âFor fucks sake, you do! Any fucking idiot would take one look at you and go âyeah, that cunt has PTSDâ! Youâre just too much of a fucking pussy to do anything about it!â
âWell, any fucking idiot you look at you and know that Homelander fucking twisted your brains, Sunshine.â He roared. âYou know what he fucking told us?!â
âWhat, that Iâm an ungrateful slut who doesnât deserve him, but heâll love me anyways?â You hiss, echoing words long locked away in the back of your head. âThat heâll keep me close, because nobody else gets to have me? That heâd rather I die than leave him?â
Something very deep inside you was pulling apart. Something became frayed when Ben started at you with that one fucking look you canât read as he spoke.
âThat you fucking starved yourself. That he had to force you to eat.â Benâs fists curled. âYou didnât fucking share that, Sunshine.â
You stumbled back like heâd punched you. It was hard to breathe, and all you could see was white light. The thing deep inside you snapped, and your legs gave out, falling back onto the mattress. Bright lights. Cold eyes. Fire and pain. Pain and exhaustion and hunger. So much hunger, but you couldnât break. Youâd let the hunger kill you before you broke. This was all you had, one last, desperate protest to keep yourself somewhat intact.
But you were so tired. And a cold hand was gripping your jaw, tugging it open until mush began to fall into your throat. No, no, no, you canât lose, you canât. This hunger is the last thing standing in his path-
Something wrapped around you, firm and warm, and that tugging on your heart returned.
He canât win, if he wins then youâll never leave. Youâll never leave anyway, but at least youâll fall by your own hand and not his-
Something deep and soothing was in your ear, a voice edged with bloody concern. Almost desperate. Saying your name, again and again.
You canât break, you canât break -
The voice was humming. Moon River. Reaching into your head and slowing it, grounding the fire running through you, pulling the flames back into you. You blinked, breathing still quick and short but no longer impossible, and saw Ben staring at you. Felt his hands rubbing against your skin in small circles.
âBack with me, Sunshine?â Ben asked quietly, and you nodded.
âI burned your face.â You mumbled.
He just shrugged. âYou burn, I burn.â
The Feeling was back, and with the soothing of his touch, you managed to speak. âMini-Homelanders.â The words caught in your throat, only a little, but Ben frowned at you all the same.
âMini-Homelanders?âÂ
You nodded. âI told you he wanted to make mini-homelanders. That was the reason he took me in the first place.âÂ
Ben said your name firmly. âYou donât have to do this right fucking now-â
âNo, I do.â You take a deep breath. âOr I wonât do it at all.â
âSunshine-â
You pushed on, the words falling out of you once youâd gained a pace. âHe found out about Ryan, and wanted more children. I was just in the worst place at the worst time, singing at a Vought fundraiser, and that was it. I woke up in a cell the next day. When I realized what was happening, I fought, but this was a year before he started the V experiments so I didnât stand a fucking chance. I tried to find smaller ways to fuck with him. I tried to kill myself so many times they started chaining my hands to the wall. I remembered for a psych class in college that eating disorders can lead to infertility, so I did that. Eventually Homelander noticed, and didnât take kindly to it.â You take a full, stuttering inhale. âI havenât done it since I escaped.â
You felt something deep and wailful against your heart as Ben spoke careful words. âWhat about-â he coughed slightly, and the thing against your heart grew strained. âSuicide. Has that-â
âOnce,â you whisper. âRight after.â
âOh.â He took a deep sigh of his own. âSunshine I-â
âDonât apologize,â you say as something desperate runs through you. âPlease.â
He frowns, but nods. âOk.â
Youâre silent, sitting on your bed and watching each other from long minutes before you speak.
âYouâre getting better at this.â You attempt a smile.
His brows furrow. âBetter at what?â
âDealing with me.â
âIâm not âdealing with youâ, Sunshine.â Ben grumbled. âIâm-â
âFixing me?â Your smile feels a bit more real. âDoes that mean I get to fix you?â
Heâs silent, and youâre prepared to back track. It had been a shitty joke, and you didnât want to keep fighting. You didnât think you could. The Feeling was keeping you on the ground by a thread, and your heart was flipping and stretching in ways that hurt-
âWhat would you do?â Ben grunted, and you blinked at him.
âWha-â
â If I had Shell Shock. PTSD. What would you do.â
âIâd heal it,â you say softly. âIt would probably just be us sitting together, and Iâd hold your arm, and heal it.â You frown to yourself. âIt might take time, Iâve never used this power like this before, not for something this intense. Iâd essentially be re-writing the neuron pathways of your brain, so depending on how deep they go it could take just one day or⊠a lot longer.â
âWould it hurt you.â Ben frowns at you, saying his question in that way where heâs not really asking.Â
You answer anyway. âI donât think so. Itâs not like I can take your memories, Iâd just be fixing how they are in your head. How they affect you now.â
Ben stares at you, and you can feel that resolve running over something louder and strained you donât really understand. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.
âFine.â
âFine? Fine like youâll let me-â
âYeah, Sunshine. Fine.â Ben looks you up and down, and you feel a weird flash of heat and hunger. âYouâre tired.â
Heâs doing the question thatâs not a question thing again, but you are tired, youâre exhausted, so you canât even be that mad at him.
You nod, humming in affirmation, and Ben stands suddenly, not looking at you as he moves out of your view.
âGo to the bathroom.â He says, and when turn his back is to yours.
âWhat? Why?â
âYou burned off your towel.â Heat rushes through as you realize heâs right. âYou always keep your clothes in the bathroom when you shower. Go change.â
Another wave of heat settles into you, the Feeling rolling around in it as it does. You stand and shuffle to the bathroom, Ben remaining in his spot, and you change into the shirt and shorts you had indeed left by the sink.
When you exit, now fully decent, Benâs suit is laying on your dresserâtraded for a pair of sweats and shirt he must have found in the laundry basketâand heâs still staring at your wall like itâs the most interesting thing heâs ever seen. You lay a hand on his arm, and are almost knocked over by the sudden thirst that runs through you. The Feeling is whining and insatiable. Then Ben looks down at you, and you think you might fall over. The Feeling wanted to grab him, your heart was howling, and his eyes were like a drug -
 âWe ready for bed?â Ben says, and you have to swallow to be able to answer.
âUh, yeah.â You blink at Ben, his words echoing in your head, and realize that the hot fury in your stomachâhis stomachâis gone. âYouâre not mad at me? Even after I-â
âOmitted a truth?â Ben gave you a loose smile, and the Feeling squirmed. âIâm calling it even, Sunshine. Now letâs get you bed, you look like youâre about to fucking collapse.â
You were, but not because of fatigue. And Ben didnât have to know that, especially because he would probably just laugh and youâd be left alone with the Feeling.
 âI might have those kinds of nightmares,â you whisper, touching his chest. Offering another out. âIf I do, Iâll burn you, Pretty Boy. Badly.â
âIâll get over it.â He says, and thatâs it. You both move to the bed, taking your unspoken places on each side of the mattress, and youâre ready to go through the motions. You fall asleep and he moves you against him, he falls asleep second and you wake up to watch him for a while before returning to sleep once more.
But Ben doesnât remain tensely upright at your side. When you lie down, he does as well. Then, before youâve even really processed the first new thing, Ben pulls you fully against him, arms around your body as your head rests on his chest. You donât say anythingâthe Feeling is pleased and youâre a little afraid heâll vanish if you even speakâso you take the folds of his shirt in your hands, and press your face deep into his shirt. He smells like coffee and gunpowder and pine trees, his heart is steady, and heâs warm.
You decided itâthe Feeling, the shower, the grip on your heart when he touches youâwas because he was safe. From you. You could not hurt him, he was the only person in the world you really couldnât hurt, so thatâs why you caved, and let him hold you. Nothing more, nothing less.
You felt alive with Ben because, by completely coincidental fate, you could be.
 You had no nightmares when you slept in his arms because Ben wasnât having any, and his own peace ran into yours.
The Feeling was quiet because your heart was beating in time with the world, and it felt good.
This felt⊠good.
End Note: Everyone say a very big thank you to @acciditties for single handedly removing our âno betaâ tag as we earn our âsmutâ tag. Also, if If you thought their pining was bad this chapter, think again! These two are about to ignore their emotions at an Olympic level!
#soldier boy x reader#the boys#soldier boy#Enemies to Friends to Lovers#slow burn#angst#x reader#reader insert#eventual romance#romance#canon typical violence#canon divergent au#the boys amazon#billy butcher#annie january#frenchie#mother's milk#kimiko the boys#homelander#sister sage#victoria neuman#smut#fluff#masterlist#eventual smut#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys fanfic#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x female reader
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âWhy didnât you protect us?â
art: @brisa-art
#resident lover#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#resident evil village#resident evil 8#resident lover edit#dimitrescu sisters#dimitrescu family
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never forget noel gallagher wrote you know we cant go back and he had to change the lyrics from brother to lover
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