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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

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Chapter 27 - Just a Shot Away

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Being pointlessly confident and saying that we're going to finish with 31 chapters. See you on the other side of this one! <3

Chapter Title from Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones.

Word Count: 27.4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, with a little extra violence and gore.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 26 - Chapter 28

“Can I drive?”

“There is not a fucking chance in Christ’s blue balls I’m letting you drive, Sunshine.”

She pouted at Ben, propping her chin on his shoulder and being a fucking hazard to Ben’s very good, very safe driving. “Please?”

“No.”

“But-“

“I’m really fucking like my life.” He gave her a side-eyed, flat look as he said Her name. “So no.”

She stuck Her tongue out at him, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat as she muttered under her breath. “You can’t even die, you cockfuck asshole.”

Ben snorted. “You know I can fucking hear you, brat. And you’d figure out a way to kill me, you’re real damn smart like that.”

“Kiss ass.”

“Only for you, darling.”

She flushed at his wink, thighs pressing together with a small squirm—like She was trying to move Ben’s hand up from where it had found an easy home near her knee—and he’d fucking won. Ben didn’t even try to stop the triumphant grin from crossing his face, because he never fucking won these arguments. They usually ended with Her moaning as Ben fucked her in an attempt to regain some control and dignity after she’d convinced him eat lunch with Her, Hughie, and Annie, or do the laundry, or thank Kimiko for brownies, or read a fucking book. But she wasn’t pushing further, cutting right to watching Ben with lust-blown eyes and a pretty, gaping and slack expression, so he’d fucking won.

“Need me to pull over?” He dragged his hand up Her leg, smirking at her small gasp. “Take care of you on the side of the fucking highway?”

“Fuck you,” She mumbled, grabbing Ben’s hands and turning it over between hers in a way that was somehow lot more fucking distracting than her pout. “Horny old cunt-“

“I can hear your heart,” Ben drawled Her name, twining his fingers into hers. “You want me to fuck you, and I haven’t even done anything-“

“It’s the driving.” She shrugged, but Ben didn’t miss how Her hand tightened in his. “You look hot when you drive.”

He chuckled, glancing over at Her beautiful, fake sulking face. “Driving fucking does it for you? Should I get a car, just to turn you on-“

“Shut up, Benjamin.” She wrinkled Her nose at him. “You get turned on when I’m good with Ryan, Mr. Breeding Kink. I’m allowed to think you’re sexy when you’re driving a car.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I am not going fucking apologize for loving you and wanting fuck you until your full of me-“

“Well then I don’t have to apologize for looking at your hands and muscles when you drive!”

“You have a damn obsession with my hands, Sunshine.” He grinned at Her, lifting her hand up in his to kiss Her knuckles. “I’m starting to think you like them more than my cock.”

“I’m allowed to like multiple things, Pretty Boy. I don’t know if old age is getting to you, but I also said muscles-“

“How about this.” Ben held their hands in Her lap, looking between her pretty, dramatic, perfect fucking fake-scowl and the road he had to not crash on. “After Edgar, I’ll let me give you a blowjob right fucking here, in the car.”

“Oh, you’ll let me give you a blowjob-“

“I wasn’t fucking done, brat.” Ben guided their hands between Her legs, cock twitching in his pants as her thighs squeezed around them. “Then, I’ll finger you all you goddamn want. Use my hands how you like them, make you cum on my fingers. Deal?”

She swallowed. “Deal.”

“Good girl.”

Ben laughed as She hit his arm, half grinding onto him at the same time. “Shut the fuck up-“

“You love it.“ Ben felt that strange, radiant thing burst alight in his body. “You love me.”

“Against all my better judgment,” She sighed. “I really do. Can we go over the plan again?”

He nodded, but there wasn’t really that fucking much to go over. They’d made practically negative progress on what the keys could be for—Frenchie had tried to duplicate them, only to discover it was a magnetic skeleton key, and whatever the fuck that meant had caused Her to let out a long, exhausted sigh—and everyone’s bets on the answer seemed to live in the realm of just fucking praying that it wasn’t another problem for them to deal with. Or, if they were all being real damn honest, for Her to deal with.

“It’s probably not something perishable,” She’d said, everyone gathered in the dining hall and glaring at the keys on the center of the table. “Given how long it sounded like the keys were at Red River.”

“That is why my bet is on a weapon,” Frenchie had nodded along to Her words, looking to Kimiko for agreement. “Right, Mon Coeur? Guns and bomb are not items that perish-“

Kimiko had signed something, and both Her and Frenchie’s faces had fallen.

“It could be that.” She’d muttered, voice raising as She translated for the rest of the team. “Something that is perishable, but Edgar doesn’t care if it perished.”

“Well, why’d he want you and Soldier Boy to get it now-“

She’d shrugged, cutting MM off with a tired, almost bitter look at the keys. “Maybe it’s value isn’t dependent on it being, um-“

“Alive.” Ben had grunted, and She’d swallowed.

“Yeah. Alive.”

“Or just ripe?” Hughie had offered, voice practically fucking desperate. “It doesn’t have to be living, they could be hiding something from the government like they did V, like food or-“

“I ain’t puttin money on Edgar stashin pears,Hughie-“

She’d shaken her head. “No, Butcher, Hughie’s actually got a point.”

“I do?”

“No he don’t-“

She’d turned Her eyes up to Butcher and Hughie, tone bored and amused. “Yeah, he does. The keys are to the Cornucopia. In Greco-Roman cultic practices, cornucopias were often depicted with agricultural gods, and copia literally means abundance in Latin-“

Butcher has snapped Her name. “Tell us like we’re fuckin idiots, Love-“

Ben had frowned, because he’d been following along just fine. But She was also literally alive inside of him, so he’d either adapted to Her smart talk so well he didn’t get phased by it anymore, or She was physically making Ben more intelligent. He hoped it was the former, because then it could be another testament of his love for Her. How he really fucking listened when She spoke, even if his primary motivation was how fucking hot she could be when she was talking about things she was passionate about. And given that She was somehow passionate about every single fucking thing in the universe, Ben would never make her stop talking or dumb it down for his sake. He got to learn shit, and have a boner that She usually ended up fixing. Everyone fucking won.

He’d almost told Butcher to fucking shove it and let Her speak, but She’d been faster, frowning at Butcher as she’d continued.

“Cornucopias are symbols of Greek and Roman food gods. The word means Horn of Plenty in Latin.” She’d looked back to Hughie with a small smile. “So food isn’t that insane of a guess.”

Despite Her reassurance, nobody had ended up putting money on food. The keys were now a slight weight in the pocket of Her jacket, and they’d agreed upon keeping the V from Edgar. If he asked about it, they’d either playing real fucking stupid and telling him they’d only received the keys, giving him a vial of water She’d put green food dye in, or saying they’d broken them. Ben was pretty damn sure Edgar would buy that last one, because the man seemed convinced their team was made up of complete fucking idiots.

It might be. In the past two days they certainly hadn’t been a bunch of fucking geniuses. Mallory had attempted to brief with them about Singer and potential new avenues for V, and Ben had witnessed some of the worst fucking acting performances of in history. For a group of people whose whole fucking job was murder and espionage, they hadn’t managed to be fully capable of looking Mallory in Her hypothetically compromised face and just goddamn lie. Hughie had been all goddamn sweaty, MM and Butcher just kept grunting and glaring, Annie wouldn’t stop staring, and Frenchie had been talking at a damn near inhuman pace. If it wasn’t for Her and Ben, Mallory would’ve clued in on how they’d all finally fucking realized that She was a bitch and couldn’t be trusted.

“Maybe,” MM had muttered as they’d returned to Jersey, the air in the limo tense and wired. “We could tell, Grace, and she’d side with us. She didn’t seem to be Muller’s biggest fan-“

“No.” She’d shuffled further into Ben’s side, leaning into him with a sigh. “Mallory’s primary allegiance is to democracy. If there’s even a chance Singer might think that she’s just trying to sabotage Muller’s as a VP candidate, she won’t actually help us. And she’s not stupid. She might put together that we’re going after federal V, notice the documents are missing or something, and try to stop us. We can’t risk it.”

Ben had expected more pushback, but Butcher, of all goddamn people, had taken her side.

“She’s right, Mate.” He’d looked at them through the rear-view mirror, a sour and tight-lipped expression on his face. “We ain’t able to take big gambles on anything right now. What Grace don’t know ain’t gonna hurt her, so she’ll be stayin in the dark on this one.”

And that was the fucking plan. Keep Mallory in the dark about the leak, let Her and Ben get the keys to Edgar, and meet the team in Boston for the V. Then they’d fucking kill Homelander—no loose ends for him to know it’s coming, Annie had even bought Her a private, non-CIA funded phones—and deal with the mess it left when the pussy was a million goddamn feet under.

The mess that included those two original formula V’s, one being kept wherever the fuck Butcher kept things, and one in Ben’s jacket.

They’d agreed not to give it Edgar. There wasn’t a fucking chance in hell they were giving that V to Edgar. When this was over, they’d likely just fucking flush it down the toilet.

But they hadn’t. And Ben had looked at it in Her underwear drawer before they left, and decided that there was no goddamn way he was just leaving it here. In the FBSA Headquarters, where Mallory could just walk into their apartment with her seemingly unlimited jurisdiction and find it.

And he’d forgotten to tell Her. It was really just fucking occurring to him now, as She outlined what to do if Edgar asked them for the V, that it was something She’d probably want to know about. This seemed like the type of shit he’d get yelled at for keeping from Her, even if it wasn’t at all on purpose.

He grunted Her name before he could forget again, and She cut off her own lecture, frowning at him.

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something, and you’re not allowed to lose your damn mind about it.”

Her tone raised into a slight warning. “Ben-“

“It’s not fucking bad,” he muttered, risking a look at Her expression. She mostly just looked concerned, and it was a lot fucking worse, so Ben had to just say it. Lock his eyes back on the road and just goddamn tell Her. “I brought the V.”

There was silence for a second, and when Ben looked back, She was only blinking. Her head had tilted slightly, and her fingers were trying to tap in Ben’s hold, but her heart was natural and even, so she wasn’t mad.

“Okay.” She sighed, leaning Her head back in her seat and squeezing Ben’s hand. “I mean, it’s not ideal, but I’d rather have it with you than leave it at the compound. Next time tell me before we leave,” She whacked his arm lightly. “But I can work with it.”

Ben nodded slowly, and muttered, “you’d rather have it-“

“With you.” She repeated herself, and Ben could hear the smile in Her voice. “I trust you, Pretty Boy. And you’re even safer than an underwear drawer. You can yell at people, and hit them into a wall if they try to take things from you. You’re very dramatic, Benjamin. It’s one of your best qualities.”

He snorted, running his thumb over the skin of Her hand. “Brat.”

“Cunt. I need to pee.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me that-“

“Because you,” She nudged his shoulder, and Ben turned to see that pretty pout on her lips. “Won’t let me fucking drive, and I am not peeing in the woods, so you need to get me to a gas station.”

He rolled his eyes, but grunted for Her to find one on the map and listened to her directions, parking and turning to watch Her move at his side.

“I’ll be back,” She smiled at him, fumbling with her seat belt. “Put some gas in the car while I’m gone, we’re low.”

Ben scowled. “No, we’re not-“

“Yes,” She leaned over him, pointing to a small, flashing light on the dashboard. “We are.”

“That means Butcher’s low on washer fluid-“

“Nope. Gas.” She turned to grin at him, their faces barely a fucking inch apart. “Old man-“

Ben tangled his hand in Her hair, pulling her into a long, soft kiss. Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, I am not goddamn old-

You’re so old. She let out a happy sigh into his mouth, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.” He kissed Her cheek, and her eyes on his were so fucking full of adoration and want it might kill him. “Go piss. Be fast.”

“I always am. Fill up the gas, please.”

“With what damn money-“

“Butcher gave me a hundred to use on gas and whatever fuckin lube you and the old cunt need, as a gift.”

“Jokes on that pussy, we don’t need lube.” Ben winked at Her. “You get plenty fucking wet for me, all by your damn self.”

“Fuck you-“

“If you insist-“

She bumped his nose with Hers, brushing hair out of his eyes. “After I pee, Benjamin, my love, you can fuck me all you want. But only after you let go of me, so I can pee.”

Ben grunted, releasing where he’d subconsciously grabbed Her waist, but holding onto the sound of Her heartbeat as she climbed out of the car. She’d passed him the money from Her jacket, and now Ben had to fill up the gas tank, because Her saying Benjamin, my love, was some sort of goddamn override to his brain that made body move to Her will more than his. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have gotten Her gas—She’d asked him for something, and Ben would be damned if she didn’t fucking get it—but he might have pushed for them to go somewhere else if she hadn’t added that one fucking phrase.

But now he had to get gas here. At this backwater fucking washed up parking lot, with a pump that might have been installed before Ben was even taken to Russia. This whole fucking place was disgusting, even by the real damn low standards of gas stations in upstate New York. Ben wasn’t even sure it was genuine establishment and not an abandoned building that some hicks has started selling dogshit coffee and stale candy bars at. If this was Ben’s car, which it fortunately wasn’t, he’d probably have flat out fucking refused to put their alleged “gas” in the engine. They were selling it for a million damn dollars—She’d explained the rapid increase of cost of living and inflation to him several times, but $4.50 for gas had to be a crime—and if he wasn’t able to lean against Butcher’s car and keep a very careful eye on every single pussy moving around the lot while she took a piss, he would’ve damned it and gone into the bathroom with Her, just to make sure she was safe.

But She probably would’ve killed him for hovering, and it wasn’t like Ben couldn’t feel Her—easy and content and humming a soft, natural song—everywhere his head, or hear her heartbeat slightly muffled, but steady, across the parking lot. And it was just them, three truckers, the store workers, and a family on some sort of weird fucking road trip at the station overall, so things would be fine. And if they weren’t, Ben had a fucking gun. They were going right to Boston after this shit, so even though he wasn’t allowed to bring his suit, Ben had dropped his shield in the trunk of Butcher’s car and packed one of the gun ranges better pistols in his pants, along with the one Butcher had given him when She’d return in his pants. So if that bouncy fucking five-year-old tried anything, Ben would be ready.

The five-year-old wouldn’t try anything. It was a little girl, rolling in the grass like a damn dog, giggling to herself as her mother watched her with a tired, joyful smile, and neither of them seemed to be plotting anything. A man joined them with a slightly smaller boy, passing the woman a coffee with a kiss as the boy half-tackled the girl, and something Ben fucking became radiant and soft and aching and hungry in his chest and head and gut.

He’d never fucking gotten that. Ben couldn’t ever remember being that carefree as a kid, and he’d certainly never fucking played in the grass, looked up at his father, and gotten a thumbs up and smile of approval. She’d never had it either. Ben would place real good money that Her parents had never watched her with content, easy expressions, and then shared low laughs with each other about a joke Ben could fucking hear, and wasn’t that damn funny. Those assholes across the parking lot seemed to think it was fucking hilarious, leaning on each other and watching each other with expressions that would’ve made Ben scoff and make a face of like he’d smelled something foul forty years ago.

He wouldn’t now. He hadn’t gotten that before either—real, raw, powerful fucking love—but Ben fucking got it now. That together didn’t just mean at someone’s side most days, and in name, with acknowledgments through teeth. Ben had thought the most together had to offer was a show. Someone he didn’t like that much, but could half-tolerate for a few hours, to flash and shine with him so everyone went fuck, they look good. They’re smiling for us, so that’s love.

Ben had been a fucking idiot. Together meant together. It meant at Her side, always matching Her step for step, but a fuck ton more than just a name. Together meant just them, no need to stray and no way out, because Ben didn’t want a way out. He loved Her—he couldn’t stop telling Her, and it almost fell out of Ben like when he exhaled it would always come out as the words, I love you, Sunshine—and together meant Her and Ben, burning at each other’s sides, no matter what every other pussy fucker wanted. And all the best parts of this weren’t for any single camera or crowd, they were for Ben. They were how She looked wearing his shirts and sprawled over his body, a weight he could easily throw off but never wanted to. They were watching TV shows and Movies with Her, and watching her smile in the glow of the screen. They were trading smirks and winks and jokes, and bumping shoulders or walking with Ben half holding Her up as he made dirty promises he’d always keep. They were dancing with Her in the haze of colorful light provided by her beautiful, fucking enchantingvoice, and saying shit like enchanting because that seemed like a word She’d use.

He really fucking got that together wasn’t a performance. Ben liked Her—She was fucking hilarious and mean and smart and perfect—and when he smiled it was for Her. Not a single other pussy fucker mattered when Ben smiled at Her, because it was something that he couldn’t help, and acted as another piece of evidence that Ben loved Her. Further proof that she’d never have to be afraid of anything again, because Ben would keep her safe, and she’d never have to want for anything because Ben would find whatever she asked for.

So Ben couldn’t scowl at the man across the lot, half-hanging over his wife, because Ben knew that he probably looked that fucking stupid when he looked at Her. But anyone would look that stupid if they got to love Her. If She’d turned them into a fucking pussy who thought about things like would they take stupid road trips? They could. After this was over, She and Ben could do whatever the fuck they wanted. Ben’s whole goddamn brain had been turned into a place to figure out what else would She want. A road trip probably wasn’t the best idea, if Ben wanted to keep his sanity. Given how frequent and intense their sex was, they’d have to pull over two or three times a day and Ben was never going to fuck his wife in a flea-ridden, stiff mattressed, peeling-paint motel room. He could—Ben could fuck Her anywhere—but She deserved all the comfort the world had to offer.

She’d want to see beautiful things. Not have them, but see them. Ben would need to take Her to places that held half the beauty she had in Her own body and heart and head, just so She could see what he got to look at every goddamn day. Ben needed to show Her things like waterfalls and mountains and oceans, find Her a place where the sun was almost as bright as She was, and he could hold Her just to hold her. A place where there were soft breezes and music and good food and flowers.

There were flowers here. As gross as this place was, there were still flowers. Off the side of the lot, past where the family had been standing and where everything turned overgrown and green, there were light pink flowers.

She was still in the bathroom, and the tank was full, and Ben couldn’t stop staring at the flowers. It was just him and two truckers now—shorter men with baseball caps and slightly tattered clothing—and they were looking over at Ben with weary frowns.

But Ben still just fucking stared at the flowers.

And that was the type of fucking love-sick idiot pussy She’d turned him into. The type that stomped across the parking lot, glaring daggers at the other men in a silent dare to say something—because Ben would throw them right through their stupid trucks and not break a sweat—and grabbed some flowers out of the ground for his wife.

She’d like them. She’d get pretty, wide eyes and smile at Ben and it wouldn’t matter that he’d just picked flowers like a fucking child, because She’d be happy.

He returned to the car, scowling at where he could still hear Her heartbeat through the walls of the gas station.

You’re not being fucking fast, Sunshine.

There was barely a beat before she responded. Take it up with my asshole, Pretty Boy. I’m shitting.

Are you almost done.

I think? Maybe five or six more minutes. Ben heard Her amusement bounce around his head, and he could fucking hear the smile on her face. Think you’ll make it?

Shut the fuck up. Ben glared at the flowers, still in his hands. Do you need anything.

Like what?

I don’t fucking know, what do gas stations sell now-

Probably the same things they sold in the 80s. Gum, candy, condoms, snack, soda, energy drinks-

What the fuck is an energy drink.

Like, a Red Bull or a Monster. There was a pause, and then, have you had a Red Bull?

Bulls aren’t red, they’re brown or some shit-

No, dummy, it’s a brand name. Like Doritos, but caffeine and sugar. Go get a Red Bull, Benjamin.

Ben frowned. Why.

Because I want to watch you drink it.

He looked down at the remainder of their money. Are you hungry.

If I say yes, will you buy the Red Bull.

He grunted Her name between their heads, and Her soft laugh echoed through his mind.

I’ll take whatever else you get.

What the fuck do you want, Sunshine-

We’ll share. Go get the food and I’ll find you after I’m done.

Ben nodded to no one and put Her flowers in his pocket, taking one last assessing look around the lot—one more person had parked a white van, but that was it—before heading into the gas station convince store.

These things hadn’t fucking changed in the slightest. Still flickering blue, washed-out fluorescent lights, dirty floors and walls, and messily stocked shelves. Ben stalked over to the drink fridges lining the walls, scanning the shelves for whatever the fuck a Red Bull was—figured out it was a silver and blue can, and decided to get the black and green one a few shelves instead on fucking principle alone—and moved on to find Her some food.

The newer man, with the van, had walked into the store, joining Ben and the acrylic-nailed woman behind the counter, and was studying all the sandwiches and donuts near the register like he might actually find one that didn’t taste like fucking shit. Ben decided to go for the snack isle instead, because he could kick the pussy out of his way, but She’d be eating whatever he ate. Ben wasn’t that fucking hungry, and he knew if he tried to just give Her food and not take any himself, she’d go on a strike and refuse to take a bite until he took one as well. That meant he had to figure out something that they’d both eat, but She’d love more, enough to eat most of it without pawning half off to Ben. And Ben would not take a single fucking bite of a Styrofoam, gas station hot dog, so snacks it was.

He grabbed things he recognized. Potato chips and Rice Krispies and Oreos and Pop Tarts, and then a large bag of chocolates he could insist was only for Her, because he had this stupid fucking energy drink for himself. She needed to drink as well, actually, so Ben returned to the drink isle and scowled at the options. Colorful bottles and over-priced water and juices designed for children that Ben wouldn’t be buying his wife-

Fuck. He kept doing that. Since DC, Ben’s brain had decided to turn against his own interest of waiting and doing it right to just call Her his wife. She would be—he’d fucking kill the proposal, and make every other romantic thing in history look like a World War—but she wasn’t yet. So he needed to get a goddamn hold over himself, grab one of those fancy fucking water bottles, and pay for everything so they could keep going before Ben did something stupid like asking Her to marry him in a parking lot.

He sensed Her before he even realized her heartbeat had moved. An innate feeling of closer, She’s getting closer, good things are getting closer, and then a ring of a high bell as the door opened. Ben had made his way over to the counter—waiting as the cashier scanned everything in the slowest way goddamn possible—and turned to see Her walking over to him with such a perfect fucking look of ease on her face, a small smile pulling at her lips as she assessed his picks.

She opened Her mouth—eyes meeting Ben’s and full of a fucking light and sheer goddamn happiness that made him high—and that pussy fucking van idiot, mouthful of a sandwich he hadn’t damn paid for yet, stepped between them.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here, honey?”

She froze, and Ben felt his hands curl into fists as something started to twist and flail in his gut.

“I, um, I don’t,” She looked over the man’s shoulder to Ben, and he jerked his head to the Van-Pussy.

Do you want me to kill him-

“You up here with anyone? Nah, no way someone would leave you alone if you were, they’d have to be a fucking cuck.” The man laughed to himself, and Ben took a jerked step forward to rip off his goddamn head.

No murder, Benjamin.

He halted, keeping his attention on Van-Pussy’s every shift and breath. Some small murder can be fucking justified, he’s got it coming-

I’ve got this. If you need to start punching holes in people, I’ll tell you.

Ben was going to break his own fucking teeth, his clenched jaw becoming slightly strained and almost painful, but he gave a small, curt nod. Swear it-

Promise. “I am actually. Here with someone.”

Van-Pussy laughed again, but this laugh was dismissive, like she was stupid. “Please, honey. I don’t see no one-“

She shrugged. “Then turn around.”

Ben coughed to cover his laugh, and Van-Pussy whipped around to meet his glare.

Then the fucking idiot rolled his eyes. “You could do better than him, darling, you’re way too pretty for him. Come with me, and I’ll show you a real good time.”

That was an insane fucking statement. Ben had issues, but he also knew what his face looked like. He might be the only asshole alive who was close to being as attractive as she was. It was another reason he was fucking built to love Her right, because She deserved to fuck and smile and love someone who could hold even a tiny, flickering candle to the massive, consuming and cleansing inferno of life and beauty that she was.

Ben probably would’ve broken Van-Pussy’s face for that statement alone, then his ribs for calling Her darling, and then his knees for how he’d started to reach for Her, but she was a fucking wonder of the universe and moved faster. Side-stepping Van-Pussy in a smooth movement, reaching a hand out for Ben to wrap his own around on instinct, and let Herself be tugged right up to his side, under his arm, where they both goddamn belonged.

“I’m good, thank you.” She gave Van-Pussy’s wide, almost thunder-struck expression a sweet, toxic, toothless smile, and turned herself and Ben around, back to the counter.

Ben kissed the top of Her head as she fully assessed his choices, the cashier somehow not finished scanning. “I can still fucking kill him if you want-“

She cut off his words, muttered in Her ear, with a turn of her head and full, long, kiss. “No murder, Benjamin, my love.” She hummed into his mouth, and pulled away to rest her head on his shoulder, looking back to the food. “No weed, huh?”

He blinked, frowning between Her and the counter. “What the fuck are you talking about-“

“Weed is legal in New York,” She shrugged. “And a lot of gas stations sell it now. It might not be regulated weed, but that doesn’t really matter to you-“

“Are you fucking with me-“

“Nope.” She bumped their shoulders, and turned to the cashier. “Excuse me, ma’am, do you have any cannabis products-“

The cashier looked up at her with a flat, almost dead-eyed stare. “We got joints, $40 for the bag.”

“Can you add that as well-“

The woman turned around to the wall of cigarettes and condoms behind the counter, and She smiled up at Ben.

“See? Weed-“

Ben cupped Her chin, holding her still so he could kiss her as deep and rough as he could manage without starting to fuck her on the disgusting floor of the gas station. She was fucking perfect, and amazing, and all Ben’s and fuck he loved Her so goddamn much-

They only broke apart because the cashier cleared her throat, slamming a bag of weed on the counter and looking at Ben expectantly. “Fifty-five bucks.”

Ben paid—his instance that they didn’t need a bag, because he could fucking carry everything without an issue being shot down by Her sharp glare—and guided Her out of the store, back to the car. Ben winked at Van-Pussy as they passed him, because She was his. She’d chosen Ben, and was tucked at his side with a smile and perfect fucking look of happiness on her beautiful face. She knew Ben, and got him weed, and loved him so much that Ben could see it everywhere. In the trash littered around the gas station and smudges of dirt on the windows of Butcher’s car. In the woods surrounding them and the and the sparkles of glass in the parking lot, in the reflection of rainbow in some stray oil pooling out of the pump, and Her smile as they climbed back into the car.

“No weed now,” She glanced up at him as she pulled items out of the plastic bag, a tone of apology in her voice. “Just because we need to go, and can’t afford to be pulled over if a patrol cop sees the driver smoking a joint.” Her eyes lit up, and Ben knew exactly what she was going to say before her mouth even opened. “Or-“

“You are not driving, Sunshine.” Ben drawled, fighting his smile at the pretty wrinkle of Her nose. “Don’t even fucking try to convince me otherwise.”

“Cunt,” She mumbled, tossing the joints into the back of the car. “What do you want first?”

“Whatever you don’t want.”

She nodded, frowning at the bag. “Chips?”

“I don’t give a fuck-“

The bag of chips was half-chucked at his face, and Ben looked over to see her holding up the green can, her brows raised.

“Benjamin, this is not a Red Bull-“

“It’s the same shit, isn’t it? And it’s green-“

“Holy fuck, Pretty Boy.” She giggled, passing him the drink. “You’re like a toddler who won’t eat chicken nuggets because they’re not shaped like dinosaurs-“

“Shut the fuck up-“

“I think it’s adorable.” She leaned forwards, propping her chin on his shoulder. “And I love you, you old grump. Drink the Monster.”

Ben scowled, glaring down at Her as he popped the can open. “This is dumb as shit-“

“Yeah, it is. Do it, you pussy-“

He kissed Her once, just to turn her words into a soft moan, and pulled back with a smirk. “Brat.”

He took the drink in one gulp, and almost spat it out over Butcher’s dashboard.

“Fucking Christ, this tastes like ass-“ He glared at Her, head buried against him and absolutely failing to contain her laughter at his suffering. “People drink this shit on purpose-“

She nodded, her grin wide and toothy and unrestrained as she looked up to meet his eyes. “They do, yeah. It’s like dogshit coca cola, but also helps you finish an essay two hours before it’s due. It has its merits.”

“It’s fucking disgusting,” Ben grumbled, slamming the can into the cup holders for Butcher to throw out later, and She giggled again. “You think this is fucking funny-“

“I do.” She pulled herself up, kissing along Ben’s jaw and taking his hand in Hers. “I think this is hilarious.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me, Sunshine-“

“You love it.”

He rolled his eyes, but squeezed Her hand and only muttered, “I do, you fucking brat.”

“Thank you for trying that for me-“

“Don’t.” Ben sighed, glancing Her as she settled back into her seat, their hands still tangled together. “I got you something.”

“You got me lots of things.” She looked back to the bag, pulling out the chocolate with a smile. “Very good boyfriending, Benjamin.“

The radiant thing coursed through Ben’s whole body, blooming over his ribs and warming his gut. It was damn near impossible to keep frowning—to keep his brow drawn and face neutral—when she was so contagiously happy. Like disease Ben wanted to,fucking needed to catch.

He shoved his hand into his pocket before he could pussy out, and coughed to regain her full attention. “I got you something else, as well.”

A small frown crossed her face as she titled Her head, scanning over Ben’s very fucking serious expression. “What?”

He pulled the flower out, extending it for Her to take with a stiff arm. He didn’t have any fucking words for it, because it didn’t need words. This flower was for Her. Ben had picked it for Her, and that was all he goddamn knew how to do. Ben knew how to do things for Her, because it was easier than breathing, and that was it, and it would have to speak for itself.

She was gaping between him and the flower, the whole world almost fucking drowning in the feeling of Her—infinite and good and made of fire and life and love and honey and music and something golden Ben didn’t have a name for—and when she reached out with a slightly shaking hand, her voice was soft.

“You got me a flower?”

Ben grunted an agreement, trying to figure out what the fuck Her exact reaction was. Why she sounded so fucking nervous, when She was electric and overflowing inside on Ben’s body.

“Where-“

“Woods.” He muttered, jerking his head in the vague direction of where the family had stood. “There were fuck ton of them-“

“You,” She swallowed, glossy eyes moving to fully onto Ben’s. “You picked it for me?”

“Of course I picked it for you, who the fuck else would I pick it for-“

She practically launched herself out of Her seat, crashing her mouth into Ben’s, and his words died with a groan as she straddled him. She was kissing Ben like she’d fucking die if she didn’t, grinding down onto him with moans of his name and sounds of want that made his cock grow painfully hard. Her hands were tangled in his hair, their bodies molded perfectly together, and fuck she smelled good, felt good, everything about Her was so fucking good-

“I love you,” She whispered, voice slightly unsteady as she pulled back to watch him, and Ben realized he could taste the salt from her tears. She was fucking crying, why the fuck was she crying-

“You-“

“I love you so much, Ben.” She gave him one last, tender and sweet kiss, smiling against his lips. You’re amazing, and I love the flower, and I really fucking love you.

Ben realized—as he chased Her mouth back to his, feeling how every piece of Her was coated in pure fucking joy—that the tears were happy tears. She was so goddamn happy it was making him feel fucking alive—alive in a way that only She knew how to be, where everything was beautiful and had meaning and somehow Ben was still everything to Her—and he couldn’t fight the grin from crossing his face and She settled back into her seat, fully taking the flower from his hand and looking at it like it she looked at him. Adoring and soft, Her whole face relaxed and not an ounce of pain or fear over her perfect features. She looked at the flower like it was a piece of Ben he’d carved out to offer Her, and that made the stupidity of picking his wife a flower feel more than goddamn worth it.

He’d fucking done it again. Not his wife, yet. Ben could, probably, ask right fucking now and get it right, but they were on a time limit. They had an hour left to go before they reached Edgar, and couldn’t afford to use time for Ben to pull her back over him and tell Her to fucking marry me, Sunshine, because I love you and I’ll give you a whole fucking garden if you ask me to. I’ll kiss you stupid on the grass, surrounded by as many flowers as you want, then fuck you stupider until you’re this happy all the goddamn time. I’ll buy you all the damn snacks you need, and drink a million more of those shit fucking cock-drinks if it always makes you giggle. Just fucking marry me, and I’ll love you however you ask for the rest of our lives. Forever. I’ll love you for fucking ever.

But stupid things like not letting America fall and crumble under Vought and Homelander made Ben have to start the engine and keep moving. His hand had returned to its home on Her thigh as she rambled about every single, pointless, perfect thought that popped into her head. She loved the color pink, and Ben wasn’t allowed to call it stupid or girly, or she’d put pink and blue glitter in his shampoo and then kick him in the balls. She loved flowers as well, and was proud of Ben for not killing Van-Pussy, and he’d somehow managed to grab her favorite Pop Tart flavor. She made him share her water, and threw an Oreo at his face when he grumbled about how he should’ve fucking killed Van-Pussy, and started reaching between his legs to grab chips as she spoke, which didn’t fucking help him focus on the road at all.

Ben had apparently gotten her a rose milkweed, which was a primary attractor of Monarch Butterflies.

“How fuck do you know that-“

“I went to butterfly garden when I was a kid.” She shrugged, still smiling at the flower and twirling it between her fingers. “They had these everywhere.”

He grunted—of course She’d just have fucking remembered that—and let her continue on a tangent about butterflies and flowers and whatever the fuck else she wanted to talk about. She was distracted from the meeting with Edgar— drawing closer and closer the longer they drove—and Ben got to hear her voice, so he was good. He could glance at her every few minutes and feel his mouth twitch at the eager, bright expression on her face as she spoke, and wonder if She’d want to go to a butterfly garden again. If that would make Her keep smiling like this, if She might tackle him and call him amazing again.

He’d gave to figure that out later. Right now, they were parking in the back lot of Edgar’s prison, and had a fucking job to do. She’d slowly fallen silent as they’d driven through the gate—her hand tapping against Ben’s and teeth visible as she gnawed on her lips—and when the engine turned off, Ben waited. Stay right at Her fucking side, holding and watching her until she took a long, heavy breath and met his eyes.

“The plan-“

“Go in,” Ben grunted. “Give Edgar the keys, but not the V, and clear my debt. Try and get him to tell us what the fuck the keys are for, and let you take the lead if he asks about the V. No talking to anyone but Edgar and MM’s contact, no lingering and fighting if shit goes south. If hell breaks loose, get the fuck out and don’t look back.”

She nodded slowly. “If another guard asks who we are?”

“Let our insider take of it.”

“And if someone recognizes us-“

“They won’t,” Ben grinned, reaching over and dropping Her sunglasses from her brow to her nose. “Because we won’t be around long enough for a single fucking pussy to realize who we are.”

“Do you-“

Ben grabbed the stupid fucking Red Sox cap she’d bought him from the backseat, glowering at Her as he dropped it over his hair. “There is no goddamn reason it had to be Red Sox-“

“The reason is that I think you look very handsome,” an infinite, sharp light danced in Her eyes, and she leaned up to kiss Ben over his beard, holding his jaw with a gentle touch. “When you’re so grumpy about a hat.”

“It’s fucking blue-“

“You’ll live, you massive fucking baby.” She dropped back, giving her own body—wearing her sunglasses, Ben’s green shirt, and a green jacket Annie had gifted to her—a dramatic gesture. “And I’m wearing enough green for both of us. Let’s haul ass Pretty Boy, so we can get it over with.”

Ben scowled, but climbed out of the car, half-running around the car to get her door before She could even fucking think to do it herself.

She smiled up at him—taking Ben’s hand and letting him help her out of her seat—and pressed Her palm to his chest as she gave him one last kiss. Barely a brush, just enough for Ben to have time to wrap his around fully around her waist and hold her face, dragging his thumb over her lips as they separated.

“Such a fucking gentleman.”

She was teasing him, but the words still made Ben’s heart almost pound out of his goddamn chest, made his whole fucking body wrathful and illuminated and fall in time with Her. Her, Her, Her, Ben fucking loved Her, and nothing was could have been better than this, be better than this, be better than them, burning together fucking always.

“Shut up, brat.“ Ben rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore how she could obviously fuck see—and defiantly fucking feel—how everything in his body was made of rough, permanent, immoveable affection and love for Her. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Her hand fisted in Ben’s shirt, her head dropping to take long, steady breaths against him before looking back up, her face set and focused. “Let’s do this.”

MM’s contact was a surly, uptight man who worked for the prison and grunted more than Ben did. He’d looked them up and down, muttered a request for proof of identification—neither of them had that, so She set her hand on fire and Ben snapped the man’s baton in half—and then nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. If he thought it was noteworthy how Ben’s arm was resting on Her hips—held there by her hand over his—the man was smart enough not to say a fucking thing and only lead them long, twisting, empty halls to a steel-doored room, identical to last time.

“He’s in there,” the man—he’d said his name, and Ben hadn’t been fucked to remember it—told them, looking Her and Ben up and down with a frown. “You got an hour before he needs to be back in his cell.”

“Got it,” She was braced at Ben’s side, every word coming out careful and neutral. “Thank you.”

The man just shrugged, moving to stand against the wall and keep guard. “MM wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious as shit, so don’t worry about it.”

She sighed, nodding, and looked back to Ben. I’ve got the keys, is it okay if I do most of the talking-

The talking is your shit, Sunshine. Ben kissed the space between Her eyes, dropping his head until their brows were pressed together and he could study Her pretty, sharp eyes. I’ve got you, but you’re doing the damn talking.

Okay. She took another, grounding breath, and Her heartbeat grew a little more natural before she pulled back, and pushed the door open.

Edgar was indeed waiting for them, handcuffed to a table and humming bland tune that halted as they entered the room.

He said Her name first, eyes not even fucking darting to Ben. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Is it?” She dropped in one of the two metal chairs across from Edgar, pulling Ben with her. “I’d say it’s mediocre at best.”

Edgar huffed a small laugh. “I suppose the circumstances could improve vastly, but at least you have Benjamin.”

Ben got a nod, and before he could snap at Edgar to stop fucking calling him that, She did it for him.

“Edgar,” She leaned over the table, eyes on Edgar’s a dry, silent threat. “For both our sakes, don’t call him that.”

“Ah.” Edgar hummed Her name. “I never took you for the territorial sort-“

“I’m not. But every time you call my Ben Benjamin, you’re in danger of getting your head ripped off, which would be a real bummer for you, and I’m in danger of visualizing things I have no interest in visualizing.”

“Would I be able to hear an example of such a thing-“

“Do you have a guess as to what three times I call him Benjamin the most are?” She barely waited a second for Edgar to think before she continued a lazy, edged smile on her face. “Never mind, I’ll just tell you. When I’m pissed at him, when I’m telling him I love him, and when he’s fucking me. So forgive me if I don’t want to imagine my boyfriend’s cock in your mouth, Stan. I think I’m doing us all a favor with that.”

Ben might have made sour, lip-curled face at the idea of Edgar giving him head if his brain wasn’t spinning around Her calling him her boyfriend again. Husband would sound better. My husband was almost as fucking good as my Ben, and they did very fucking similar things to his whole fucking existence. Reduced everything to Her, a riot and song of Her.

Edgar didn’t have the same thing weighing down his disgust, though, because the pussy just sighed, shaking his head. “Your very disturbing point has been taken. Shall we move to business?”

“What else are we even here for?”

“Indeed.” Edgar looked between them, Ben rigid at Her side and her fingers tapping a quick, unyielding pattern of Moon River on the table. “I trust you managed to fulfill my request without issue?”

Ben wouldn’t call Red River without issue—between Her having to move around a Vought Facility by herself, Ben being unable to do a single fucking thing but wait and try not to punch Hughie in the throat as he offered attempted words of comfort, and the whole fucking Ashley thing, it was a little damn insane nobody had died—but She nodded, giving Edgar a passive shrug.

“Everyone made it out in one piece. Consider your request,” She reached into her pocket and held up the keys for Edgar to see before tossing them onto the table. “Fulfilled.”

Edgar barely fucking looked at the keys, just enough to acknowledge their presence before returning his gaze to Her. “I’d hazard that you’ve speculated on their nature with your delightful band of misfits?”

“We’d be terrible at our jobs if we didn’t.”

“Most of you are quite awful at your jobs. But you,” Edgar said Her name with a thin-lipped smile. “Seem quite capable. Would you mind sharing with me your conclusions?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Would you tell me if I hit on anything correct?”

“I’d offer one better, and share their home and use with you. All you have to do is tell me what you believe my answer will be.”

She paused, blinking at Edgar, and Ben frowned. They hadn’t expected Edgar to just fucking volunteer that information.

I don’t fucking trust it, Sunshine-

I don’t either. She glances over at him, and Ben could see a little hint of quickly drying blood as she chewed through her lips. But we have to play his game, and get this over with.

“Whenever you care to begin-“

“Fine.” She turned back to Edgar, cutting him off with clipped words. “I think it’s for a house, or some other form of private property.”

A small, snake-like smile played on Edgar’s lips. “Why?”

“Because it’s a skeleton key, but it’s also magnet based, which means it’s meant to unlock multiple, potentially high-security doors. It’s an intricate design, complicated, which means it’s probably not just as house, but all the same it’s yours. Not Vought’s. Vought would’ve sprung for a smart key. You chose not to.”

“Did I?” Edgar hummed, his face and tone still insufferably fucking unreadable. “Perhaps it is simply not that valuable-“

“Wrong. It is.” She poked at the keys on the table with a shrug. “If it’s a house, it’s a house with a name. Only rich assholes name their houses, and only weird cryptic fucks use fancy master keys. It might not be something dangerous, but it’s valuable. Important enough for you to hide.”

“Impressive.” Edgar nodded, his tone sounds almost fucking delighted. “Would you like to hear the real answer?”

She didn’t dignify Edgar’s words with anything but a half-passive shrug, Her eyes on him still sharp and clear.

“They are mine, but you were wrong in saying that they were not Vought’s as well. Before they came into my possession, they were the property of one Dr. Fredrick Vought. I’m sure you’ve heard of his unfortunate history-“

“You mean the Nazi thing?” She said, voice flat. “Yeah, I might have.”

“Do you remember who the Nazi’s were allied with, during Vought’s time within the party?“

“The axis powers were the Third Reich, Italy, and Japan. But I don’t-“

“Smart girl.” Edgar’s smile twisted further over his face. “See, Dr. Vought may have lost faith in Germany’s capabilities and defected to America, but he returned to Europe many times after the war’s conclusion. He’d made several friends within Mussolini’s party, and paid them a visit from time to time. It was a retreat for him, a time to enjoy like-minded company and get extra eyes on his various projects. Even after he’d perfected compound V, Vought still made many trips back to Italy, if only for leisure. Around the 60s, he went so far as to have a villa built in one of his favorite spots, and named it the Cornucopia. A villa I inherited when he stepped down, and passed me the mantle of Vought CEO. These,” Edgar nodded back to the keys. “Serve as the master key, for the master of the house. Myself.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t that technically mean they’re Ashley’s? If the villa is traditionally passed down from CEO to CEO?”

“It would,” Edgar sighed. “I’m afraid it absolutely slipped my mind into the chaos of my arrest to alert my successor of its location or existence. However, given that Dr. Vought and I are the only two owners, I wouldn’t quite call it tradition, which is why I am more than comfortable skipping over Mr. Barrett altogether and gifting it to you.”

Ben had very fucking rarely seen Her purely shocked. Gaping and wide-eyed, her beautiful face a picture of confusion, looking at Edgar like he’d just started speaking a different fucking language.

“I, um, I don’t-“

She stuttered and tripped over words when she was short-circuiting. When Her brain was overloaded with fear or lust, and had worked itself into a fucking overdrive Ben usually knew how to fix—holding Her until she was happy again, or fucking Her until she was stupid and glossy-eyed, and managed to kick herself back into gear—but didn’t have a goddamn idea how to help now.

“What the fuck do you mean, gifting it to her.” Ben took over, squeezing his hand on her hips in a silent reassurance, and fucking prayed that some answers would help bring her back down.

“I mean what I say. The property and all its contents now belong to you,” Edgar angled his head to Her, saying her full name.

“Why.”

“Because, Soldier Boy, I like her. A feeling I am sure you will not take issue with-“

Ben scowled. “You’re not the gifting type, you dick, so tell us why-“

“I am afraid it is no more complex than a simple an affection and well-wish. I’ve been feeling more generous,as of late, and no longer have use for a villa halfway across the world.” Edgar turned away from Ben, back to Her. “You are clever, with a hopefully bright future, and I believe you may find worth in it.”

That seemed to pull Her back down enough to respond, thought Her voice softer, more uncertain, than usual. “Worth? What kind of worth?”

Edgar dismissed Her question entirely. “You may also keep your V. I do not doubt that you’d simply forgotten it,” he looked between Her and Ben with a raised brow. “But it was never fully mine to begin with. I trust you won’t be foolish with such a volatile and dangerous drug, and if you are, please keep it far away from me.”

She blinked, glancing back down to the keys. “I can’t take these-“

“Take them or not, they’re now yours.”

“But-“

“It is a gift,” Edgar said Her name, voice slightly more edged. “It cannot be returned. Should you leave the keys here, they will be your lost property. Your responsibility.”

“It’s,” She cleared her throat, raising her still voice to a steady tone. “It’s in Italy?”

Edgar nodded. “Rome. The northern area, I believe. Forgive me, I only had a chance to see it once.”

She swallowed slightly. “And it’s mine?”

“Correct.”

She pulled her gaze fully from the keys, onto Edgar. “Is that, that’s all? No hidden plans or debts or secret terms?”

“If you are asking about Soldier Boy’s debt, it is forgiven.” Edgar’s cold smile had returned, his attention moving to Ben. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, and I’d shake your hand, but as you can see,” he pulled slightly on his cuffs. “I am otherwise occupied.”

Ben just grunted, and she took a long breath.

“We’re done here, then?”

“Tragically, yes.” Edgar sighed. “Our time has run out.”

“Awesome.” She stood up, Ben’s arm half supporting her, and gave Edgar a small, tight nod. “Have a good life, I guess. And, uh, thanks.”

“Gifts do not require thanks,” Edgar said Her name with a bored smile. “And I am sure we will be seeing each other again.”

“Yeah, well.” She grabbed the keys off the table, returning them to her pocket. “Here’s hoping we don’t.”

Before they left, she found Edgar a piece of paper to write the address on, Ben giving Edgar a long, angry glare—just for the fucking sake of it—until She tugged him back into the hall. MM’s contact was waiting, and barely looked at them before he grunted to follow his lead out. Ben looked down at Her as they walked, a grin tugging at his face.

You got a fucking house.

Villa. She corrected him in Her head with a sigh, leaning further into his side. And it’s a Nazi villa, so I’m not exactly thrilled.

Who gives a fuck what it was, Sunshine. Ben nudged Her shoulder, waiting for her to look up before continuing. It’s yours now, and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.

She blinked at him as they exited the prison. Like what?

Fill it with bugs and rat shit. Or baby animals and chocolate-

That’s dangerous, Ben, a lot of animals can’t eat chocolate-

He rolled his eyes. Then make it a fucking hospital, smartass, or an orphanage. Live in it or blow it up. Whatever the fuck you do with it, it’s yours.

Ours. She smiled at Ben, and the radiance bloomed around his heart and along his spine. We’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, Benjamin, so the villa is your problem as well.

He should do it now. Ben should just fucking pin Her against Butcher’s car, kiss Her until she was fully relaxed in his arms, drop to his knees, and do it. Tell Her that they’ll be fuck-buddy-brain-connected forever, and he’d never call them that aloud, so they should just get fucking married so she could say you’re my husband, Benjamin, so the villa is your problem as well, and Ben could kiss Her softly and mutter that nothing with her was a problem. She was the best thing in his fucking life, and she couldn’t be a problem if she tried. And She certainly fucking had. Also, just as another damn bonus, Ben could call Her his wife to anyone who was around to hear it, and they could have world-ending engagement sex in Butcher’s backseat, until the pussy couldn’t drive without smelling Ben’s cum and Her squirting.

And Ben probably would have actually gone through with that plan, had they not reached the car to find Sister Sage in the driver’s seat, sorting through their remaining snacks with The Deep at her side, his feet up on the dashboard.

Ben grabbed his gun—half shoving Her behind him as he yanked open the door—and pressed its barrel to Sage’s temple. “What the fuck are you pussies doing here.”

Sage didn’t even flinch, turning her head to meet their eyes and moving the gun to her brow as The Deep started to climb over, shouting protests Ben could barely hear over the ringing in his ears.

“Hey, dude! That’s not cool-“

“Deep,” She’d moved back to Ben’s side, a light hand on arm in a silent request not to yet shoot. “Shut up-“

“No, you shut up, you traitorous whore bitch-“

Ben re-aimed the gun at the Deep, who cut himself off with a swallow. “You watch your fucking mouth when you speak to her, fish-fuck.“

“Or what.” In a remarkable act of sheer fucking stupidity that was impossible to mistake for bravery, the Deep kept talking. “What’s so magic about her blowjobs that she’s got every fucking guy who gets one obsessed with her-“

Ben clicked off the safety, raising the gun slightly higher. “I warned you.“

“Hey, dude, woah, calm down.” The Deep raised his hands, cowering like a fucking pussy. “I didn’t know you were serious about-“

Sage raised her hand, and the Deep fell silent.

“Call off your hound,” Sage said Her name in a lazy, almost annoyed tone, and Ben’s grip on the gun almost snapped it in half. “We’re here to talk.”

She looked between Sage and the Deep with weary eyes, and didn’t tell Ben to lower the gun. “How did you know we were here.”

“We received a tip that the Anomaly and Soldier Boy were alone together in upstate New York, only an hour away from Stan Edgar’s prison.” Sage gave Here a flat look. “It doesn’t take genius to connect those dots. And I am a genius.”

She glanced at Ben. Fuck, someone must have recognized us-

Van-Pussy.

Who-

The asscuck that tried to hit on you. Nobody else but the cashier saw us, and she was high as tits.

Damn it. Light danced slightly in Her eyes, even as her expression remained set and passive. I should have let you kill him.

Ben knew She was joking, but that didn’t stop his grunted, smug response of, damn right you should have.

She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to Sage, who was watching them with a titled head. “What do you want.”

“What was that?” Sage looked between Her and Ben with a wolfish smile. “What did you two just do?”

The Deep frowned. “They didn’t do anything, they just stared at each other for like a minute

“Exactly, you fucking idiot.” Sage rolled her eyes. “But something still happened. Can I guess?”

“No.” She snapped, glancing back to the Deep. “What’s he doing here?”

“I got the tip, I fucking caught you-“

“You thought it was nothing.” Sage shot the Deep a cold glare. “And only told me because you’re mandated to pass on any report of the Anomaly’s actively.”

Ben heard Her heart pick up pace in her chest as the Deep turned red, stumbling over his words. “Well, I’m the one that had the helicopter idea-“

“And I flew it. You’re only here because you’d have gone to Homelander if you didn’t.”

“You,” She looked between Sage and the Deep. “You haven’t told Homelander.”

“Of course not.” Sage dismissed Her with a shrug. “I’m here to talk to you, not monologue and blow you up.”

Her nails dug into Ben’s arm, and Her words were slow, careful. “That’s not interesting, is it.”

A smile that Ben didn’t fucking understand, but made Her lean further into him, crossed Sage’s face. “Exactly. Homelander’s a fucking idiot. I can’t have him messing this up.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my man Homelander like that, I could still tell him what you’re up to-“

“No, you can’t.” Sage didn’t look at the Deep as she cut him off, her attention locked between Ben and—primarily—Her. “Go to him now, and you’re an accomplice. You kept this from him, and he won’t be forgiving of that.”

The blood drained from the Deep’s face, and She cleared her throat.

“Why are you here, Sage. What do you want.”

“Like I said before, to talk-“

“About what.”

Sage’s wolfish grin returned, cruel and jeering and fucking annoying as shit. “You’ll see.”

Ben kept his eyes on Sage and the Deep’s every movement as he spoke, low and gruff, down the line to Her head. I can just fucking shoot them, and we can go-

No. She sighed, squeezing Ben’s arm once. The only way out of this is to talk to them.

Or kill them-

Sage will have a failsafe for that. And I think she really is just here to talk.

Ben scowled. Why.

She knows she can’t kill us. Homelander, She took a heavy breath, and Ben risked a glance to see her face hollow and tired. Homelander isn’t here. He’s not the wait and hide type. And Sage won’t call him until she and the Deep are far away from whatever happens after he arrives. She has something to say, or she’d have just sent Homelander to start with. And I want to hear what it is.

They make single wrong fucking move-

And you shoot them. “Get out of the car, and we can talk.”

“Good choice.” Sage climbed out of the driver’s seat, crossing her arms as the Deep scrambled out behind her. “I’m sure we could all build a little more trust if I didn’t have a gun pointed at me for the duration of our conversation.”

“Tough fucking shit.” Ben growled, tracking the Deep’s stumbling steps to Sage’s side. “Talk.”

“Fine.” Sage sighed, turning to Her. “I believe you have something I want.”

Her features remained passive, but her body was half falling onto Ben’s. He shot an arm around Her waist—gun still set on Sage—and her hand held him there as she resounded with bored words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, as I’m sure Ashley has told you-“

“I haven’t seen Ashley since I left the tower-“

“Please.” Sage gave Her a pointed look. “Ashley’s last known location was Red River, the same day that hours of camera footage were erased, and several windows were melted away. I know she’s defected, but it’s fine. I’ve accounted for it. But she may have mentioned to you that I’ve been hounding Stan Edgar for months, and you might be able to help me get what I want.”

“Why the fuck would we ever help you-“

Sage’s words were dry but firm over Ben’s. “Because everyone has something they want. And I could help you, if you helped me.”

“How,” She paused, studying Sage’s face. “Why would you help us?”

“I wouldn’t be helping you, I’d be exchanging a good for a service.” Sage looked between Her and Ben—Ben’s arm around Her body, Her finger’s tangled in his—and smirked. “If you give me the Cornucopia, I’ll help you get out.”

“What’s the Cornucopia-“

“What I’m looking for.“ Sage shrugged. “Edgar told me he had someone retrieving it, and now you’re here. When you find it, bring it to me instead, and you’ll be done. Forever.”

Ben caught it that time. The slight stumble of Her heart tipped him off, but he hadn’t missed those words. When you find it. Sage didn’t know they had it now.

They had a fucking advantage.

Sunshine-

I know. “What do you mean done.” She asked aloud, eyes narrowed. “How is that our end.”

“Because you’ll be gone.” Sage said, a glint in her eyes. “You’ll leave New York, leave Butcher and his cohort of idiots, leave Vought and Homelander and this whole fucking country, and never look back. And I’ll ensure nobody ever finds you again.”

Ben went rigid. Out. Really fucking out, with nobody to ever bother them again. She’d be safe, and Ben would be with her. Nobody would ever try to take him away from Her, and nothing would make her cry anything but happy, easy tears for the rest of their fucking lives.

“Why.” She frowned, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “If Ben and I go, that’s it. No more games, or battles. It’s not interesting.”

“It could be.” Sage grinned, and it was fucking blood-curling. “You could make one last statement, really fuck up everything up, and leave. You could affirm Starlight’s story, tell Homelander you’ve never loved him, and I’d have to clean that up. You could shoot Butcher up with that V you stole from Homelander, and let them go scorched earth while you’re far, far away from it. Fucking your boyfriend and never thinking about any of this again. You could make it interesting, however you want, and get out. I’m sure you want out. Wouldn’t it be so nice for you to just be done?”

It would be the be best thing in the goddamn world to be done. To leave, and never look back. To just be at goddamn peace together, and fuck on a beach or in a forest, and let some other sorry fuckers deal with the fallout of this whole goddamn thing. Ben had faith in Her ability to deal Sage one last blow that would be difficult to fix, and their team would be able get the V and kill Homelander themselves. Sage might fucking stab them in the back, but they could take extra precautions themselves. Measures to make sure that it was just Her and Ben forever.

But no Ryan. None of the rest of their team, and no freedom. Ben could hear Her heart—stuttering and rapid against him—and knew that this would just be locking Her up in a new goddamn way. And Ben wouldn’t be fucking worthy of Her. He’d be pulling her away from every single other thing she loved—and a few things he tolerated more than others—just to have her to himself. And he’d never fucking do that to her. She deserved to have the whole fucking world, not just a small sliver Sage offered them. She wouldn’t be able to help anyone, and She needed to help, or she’d go fucking insane. They’d both be away from Ryan, and the kid was just starting to calm the fuck down and stop blaming himself for everything. Christ, She was just starting to stop blaming herself of everything. And Ben, Ben was still repenting.

He was repenting. He was fucking repenting, and this war was part of that. His whole goddamn life was about Her, and he knew that if he told Sage he was in, She’d love him enough to follow him. She loved Ben, and it still wasn’t something he’d ever fully deserve—how infinite and powerful and intoxicating Her love was—so had to keep goddamn earning it.

“Shove it up your evil fucking ass with the stick, Sage.” He grunted, his hold on Her hips tightening. “We don’t need your goddamn help. We can get out ourselves, after we kill all you spineless fucking pussies.”

Sage gave him an almost amused look. “The offer wasn’t for you to decide on, Soldier Boy-“

“His answer is my answer.” She cut Sage off with a shrug, and Ben felt something hot and prideful and loud grow near his heart. “No.”

“You’d let a foolish, violent man speak for you?” Sage scoffed Her name, and Her hand grew warm in Ben’s. “Even if you love him, I’d have expected better-“

“Why?” She snapped, the look of pure fucking blood and exhausted wrath on her face one Ben knew to mean danger. “Everyone keeps expecting better of me, but they really fucking shouldn’t. I’m going to let Ben speak for me, because he loves me, and he knows me. We’ll pass on your offer, but thanks.”

Sage’s face was drawn in a tight frown and analytical glare, probably trying to figure out how to talk them over to her side—she wouldn’t fucking succeeded—but the Deep was gaping. Looking between Her and Ben with wide, confused eyes.

“You,” The Deep cleared his throat, voice uncertain. “You dudes are like, in love love? Not just fucking?”

Something sparked in Her eyes, and she leaned forward slightly as she answered. “Yep. Love love. But we do also fuck. A lot.”

The Deep swallow. “Oh.”

“Real nasty sex as well.” She shrugged, a smirk playing over her pretty lips. “He’s good with his hands, and his dick is huge. I mean, the sex would be good regardless, I love him more than life, but he has a massive dick. It helps.”

Ben frowned, glaring down at Her. What the fuck are you doing.

Trust me. We need to rile him up.

Why the hell-

Sage can’t stand stupidity. If we can get her to fight with the Deep, the dumbest person I know, then one of them might slip.

Ben looked back to the Deep, and if that was what they needed to do, it was working. The fish-pussy had turned red, and his eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of his goddamn head.

“Uh, congrats. Sage, we should like, tell Homelander that-“

“Do not tell Homelander anything, you fucking idiot.” Sage hissed. “And shut up-“

“But if they’re like, really serious-“ The Deep cut himself off, looking back to Her. “Is it serious-“

“Yes.” Ben’s words were short and firm, because he’d been five fucking seconds from proposing to Her before these two goddamn fuckheads had shown up. She looked up at him with a small smile and sharp amusement, bumping their shoulders.

It’s serious, Pretty Boy?

Shut the fuck up. Ben rolled his eyes at Her pretty, perfect, teasing face. I love you, or course it’s fucking serious.

She hummed, a little light blooming in Ben’s head, even as Sage and the Deep continued arguing. We are fuck-buddy-brain-connected.

Brat-

“If it’s serious,” the Deep was still fucking whining, and Sage looked two seconds from punching him. “Homie should know. He thinks she still loves him, but she’s clearly with Soldier Boy-“

She snorted. “Did you just fucking call Homelander Homie?”

“Yeah, I did.” The Deep’s chest puffed out, and he shot Her a glare. “He’s my bro, and I’m not going to let some hot piece of ass string him along when she’s in love with his dad-“

Ben moved to gun to the Deep, and the pussy’s words stuttered off. “Fucking watch it.”

“Hey man,” the Deep raised his hands, palms up. “I was like, fucking around before, but her head can’t be that good. Homie deserves better, and you’re like, a man man. Don’t let some chick control you-“

“I don’t control him.” She snapped, and Sage fucking laughed. A dry, empty laugh that made Her swallow and Ben feel fucking sick as he re-aimed the gun at Sage’s head.

“Doesn’t she?” Sage looked between them, voice dripping with a mocking, fake sweetness. “I remember Soldier Boy being an honorable, strong gentleman. But here you are, pointing a gun at a vulnerable woman when you’re at a clear advantage, letting to your girlfriend tell you what to do like a pathetic little dog.”

Ben didn’t fucking care about Sage’s mocking words. He was being honorable, because he was protecting Her. He was fucking helping her, and listening to Her because she fucking had this, and Ben trusted her. He wasn’t listening to a woman, he was listening to his woman. The most perfect one in history, who was half hanging off his arm with glazed eyes, her breathing mechanical as something loose and hollow writhed around in Ben’s—Her—gut.

And that was what Ben fucking cared about. How Sage’s words had made everything fucking horrid and vile because She was hurt by them, and nothing was fucking allowed to hurt her. Not when Ben could fucking do something about it.

“You are not a vulnerable woman,” Ben hissed at Sage, something like bile on his tongue. “You’re an evil, conniving bitch.”

Sage didn’t even goddamn waver, continuing as if Ben hadn’t even fucking spoken. “It’s not healthy, your little arrangement. Love or not, you’re going to be lost and alone when she eventually leaves you.” Sage’s jeering, skin-crawling smile was covering her whole fucking face. “And she will leave you, Soldier Boy. She’ll realizes that you’re not a white knight, come to save her and the world from Homelander, and she’ll leave you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-“

“You’re not an angel. You’re not good enough to heal what Homelander did to her, and she’ll realize that soon.” Ben’s vision was lined with red, his body goddamn frozen as drums sounded far, far in the distance, and Sage kept fucking talking. “That Homelander gets all his anger from somewhere. That you’re no better than he is, because when she tries to leave you, you won’t let her go. You’ll grovel like a child, and when she says no, you’ll force her to stay. Lock her up and keep her just for yourself-“

She was moving before Ben even fucking registered that She’d let go of his arm. Her smoking, flame-wrapped fist flew through the air and collided with Sage’s face, and a hiss echoed through the air as Sage let out a shriek of pain. Ben saw a flash of something metallic—the Deep shouting and flying at Her with a raised fist—and shot. The fish-fuck landed in the dirt at Sage’s side, the bullet wound on his shoulder more than fucking effective as he whimpered in pain. It wasn’t enough to kill the pussy—She hadn’t killed Sage, so Ben had followed suit—but enough to bleed out if no aid arrived.

“You manipulative fucking cunt.” She was a step in front of Ben, glaring down and Sage and the Deep on the pavement. “Ben might not be a white knight, but he’s nothing like Homelander, and you fucking know it. He’s certainly a better fucking person than you are.”

Sage’s words were unsteady and strained, but still crude. Still fucking hateful. “If you really believe that, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for-“

“And I don’t fucking care.” She hissed. “Next time you say anything like that to him, I’ll burn your fucking brain out of your skull.”

“We’re not done here-“

She huffed a dry, empty laugh. “Yeah. You are. Ben and I are going to leave, and you’re not going to follow us. And if you try to call Homie, then it will be over. I’ll kill everyone, and that will be it.”

Sage scoffed Her name. “You can’t really think I’ll fall for such an obvious bluff-“

“I don’t need you to, because it’s not a bluff.” She leaned down slightly, holding Sage’s glare. “Homelander shows up, I kill him, and you, and the Deep. If that somehow kills me, then fine. At least it we’ll be done. Really fucking done. No games. Not interesting.”

Sage spat out blood, eyes narrowed on Her’s. “That’s cheating.”

“Maybe,” She shrugged, rising back up and looping her arm through Ben’s. “But I don’t care.”

Something was still fucking aching and toxic in Ben’s body and she pulled him back to the car. It hadn’t been a bluff. Ben knew how to read Her bluffs, and that hadn’t fucking been one. And She wouldn’t have killed Ben. He would’ve been left to wait in a scorched forest for the rest of goddamn time, waiting for Her to walk out of the smoke and smile at him again. She’d have burned out without him, and he’d never be able to fucking hold her again.

Sage doesn’t know what the Cornucopia is. She slid into the passenger’s seat, letting out a long breath. But she’s still looking for it, which isn’t good-

Ben grunted Her name between their heads, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled, bending the metal under his hands. You know I’d never fucking do that shit to you-

Of course I know that-

And I’ll never let Homelander hurt you again. Ben started the engine, holding Her attention with a glare. If he ever fucking comes for you, you’re not fighting him alone. You burn, I burn, Sunshine, that was the fucking deal. We’d kill Homelander and Sage and the Deep, together. Got it?

She gave Ben a soft smile, and nodded, her voice in his head low and gentle. I got it. Ready?

Ben grunted. Ready. You’re good.

I’m good. She sighed, leaning her head onto Ben’s shoulder as he began to drive. I’ve got you, Benjamin, my love. I’m good.

Even as they drove away from Sage and the Deep on the pavement, with a whole new fucking problem that was made of what the fuck do they do about the Cornucopia now on their hands, Ben grinned. That radiance covered his chest and gut and skin, and nothing really fucking mattered but Her, and finishing this. Finally being free of this dogshit circus, and being a little more worthy of Her hand in his, forever.

There wasn’t really that much shit left to do before they could be free, and together, forever.

—————————

It’s been a long, shit fucking day, and you’re only halfway done with it. Your blood is yours, and your skin barely has an itch beneath it, but you’re so fucking tired.

And you’re not sure if it’s that piece of your brain inside of him, or just how well Ben knows you, but the asshole has started to coddle you. His hand has returned to rest on your thigh—it’s there so often you’re starting to think his palm has developed some sort of magnet to your leg—and he’s very obviously doing everything he can to distract you from how this is your last shot. That this might end with blood in gutters and covering hands, but—if you do this right—it will all be done. This has to be done. There are too many other battles to fight for this truly critical one to not be wonsoon.

And Ben won’t let you think about that. He seems to have decided for himself that his job is to drive you around—because he’s a dick who has flat out refused to ever let you behind the wheel of a car on account of it being dangerous to everyone on the fucking road—and keep your brain everywhere but they imminent threat of Homelander. Sage. The CIA and Mallory, what will the after look like and who gets to have one, why would Edgar just give you a Nazi villa, and what the fuck does Sage want with it when she doesn’t even seem to know it’s a villa-

“You’re hungry.”

You look over to Ben, his eyes set on the road ahead of you. “What?”

“Your stomach,” he mutters. “It growled. You’re hungry.”

You are hungry. And it might just be Ben’s deep, firm, certain voice and how your body obeys it more than you, but it doesn’t really matter because suddenly you realize that you’re hungry.You’d eaten breakfast this morning, before you’d left for Edgar, and then the snacks Ben had bought you close to noon, but that’s it. It’s late afternoon, the sky turning red and gold on the horizon, and you’re really, really hungry.

“There’s a rest stop in a few miles-“

“No.” Ben snaps, glancing at you with a scowl. “Not a fucking chance.”

You sigh, because he’s right. You can’t risk being recognized again, and this wouldn’t be a sketchy, overgrown gas station. This was a rest stop on an interstate highway.

“So what should we do?” You watch Ben carefully, because you can feel his resolve ripping in half, and you think he’s fighting with himself about something.

“They still got McDonalds on highways?”

You smile, propping your chin on his shoulder. “Are we in America?”

Ben snorts, and the resolve settles back into itself. Firm and concrete and all around you like a hot, stone shield. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Are we getting McDonalds?”

He gives you a curt nod, eyes darting to meet yours and the glow inside him crossing over your ribs and blooming in your heart.

He’s so fucking handsome. The sunset is making him look golden—dark hair and defined features and eyes that follow you in the earth and fill you with life—and it’s not making it easy for to you remind yourself that he’s not an angel.

It helps to remember that angels aren’t real, and Ben is very real. He’s warm under your touch, and strong and careful in his natural hold on you. His thumb is rubbing circles on your skin, and his arm muscles keep flexing as he drives, and you want them around you, holding you to his chest as his cock hits that deepest spot inside you. You want to see his beautiful eyes watch you unravel under him, want to hear his low, teasing, affectionate voice make your stomach warm as he calls you good and beautiful and darling-

“Are you going to answer me, Sunshine, or just keep fucking drooling?”

You blink, and see his smirk, feel his whole body rushing with a cocky, bright pride. “I don’t-“

“You were staring, and it’s real fucking rude,” He drawls your name, squeezing his hand against you. “I’m not a piece of meat for you to objectifine.”

“Objectify.” You correct, even as your face grows warm. “And I don’t feel that bad about objectifying you, Pretty Boy. You’ve objectified me.”

“When the fuck-“

“What was the very first thing you noticed about me?”

Ben pauses, brows drawn, and you realize he’s actually thinking about it. You’d expected a small grunt of how the fuck am I supposed to remember that, Sunshine, it was over half a goddamn year ago, but his fist is clenched on the wheel, and he’s glowering at the road, so he’s really trying to give you an actual answer.

“Heartbeat.”

You tilt your head at him. “Heartbeat?”

“Your heartbeat was normal,” he grunts, his jaw set and words low. “When you woke me up. Mallory, Butcher, and Annie were all being anxious pussies, and Hughie was going to fucking piss himself, but you weren’t afraid. Of me.”

Ben glances at you as he finished, something so bloody and powerful inside of his body, and his gaze filled with it. A twisted and pious awe that’s all for you, that ignites your blood in a way that makes you feel seen. Seen and really fucking alive.

“I,” you swallow, fighting your urge to climb on top of Ben and kiss him all over his stupid, handsome face, if only because that’s not very safe driving. “Oh. I thought you’d say my tits.”

“I noticed your tits as well,” he shrugs, winking at you. “But that’s only because I’m not fucking dead, and you’re the most beautiful woman in history.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, and try to ignore how you need to touch him, or else you might explode into a mess of Ben. Loving you and always being so sweet at the worst, most inconvenient time. “Shut up-”

“No.” Suddenly, something is tight and sore over your lungs and around your throat—Ben’s lungs and throat—and when he speaks again, his voice is low and tense. “What did you notice about me.”

“Honesty, I don’t remember.” You sigh, a little guilt eating at your heart and gut when Ben’s frown deepens. “I was a little, um, out of it. I didn’t really think I’d like you all that much, let alone, uh, love you.”

You swallow, because even though Ben knows you love him now, this feels strange to say. Like you’re mostly rolling your eyes at your past self, who had truly believed she’d be able to wake up Soldier Boy, keep him in line with powers she could barely control, live with him in a mutual contempt, and leave him without a second thought at the end. She had been a real fucking idiot, because you’re never going to leave Ben. He’ll have to peel you off of him and snap your heart in two, and even then you might try to crawl after him and beg him to change his mind.

But that’s another reason why you love him. Ben wouldn’t ever hurt you, let alone like that. He’ll keep you against him and hold you carefully and reverently for the rest of time, and if you fell to your knees and begged him to stay with you, he’d pick you up, kiss you, and call you fucking stupid for thinking he’d ever leave you.

Right now, though, he’s just nodding with almost a pout on his face, and you can feel the soreness inside him grow.

“But,” you push forward, offering him a soft smile that you mean with all your heart, which belongs to Ben. “I think I know when I started loving you.”

Ben glances at you again, almost wearily. “You said that didn’t matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” you shrug. “I feel like I’ve loved you forever, and that’s all I care about. But if you want to know-“

He gives a quick grunt of affirmation, the soreness pounding and clenching over him—growing slightly electric, almost wild—and you take a long breath.

“The club. That we went to with the team. I, um, I liked being near you, and I didn’t want to stop being near you.” The soreness starts to ease away, but Ben’s grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, and your body is still sore and tensed, so you continue. “Just the, um, just the thought of you calmed me down. And you looked really handsome, and I liked when you laughed and smiled at me, and holding your hand felt good. I didn’t ever want to stop holding your hand, and that was scary, but not because of you, because I’ve never been scared of you, just because I didn’t want to leave you, and I’d never felt that before, I didn’t think I’d ever feel it at all, after Homelander, and I think that’s why I didn’t immediately realize I loved you, because I’d never been in love like this before. I mean, it was really confusing, because my job was to make sure you didn’t go rogue, but I was mostly just thinking about you and boob-drugs-“

Ben cuts off your rambling with a scowl. “Why the fuck were you thinking about boob-drugs.”

“You liked her,” you mumble, burying your face in his arm. “And I didn’t want to care, but I did-“

“I didn’t like her.”

You shake your head against him. “You don’t have to lie, Ben-“

“I don’t fucking lie to you,” he snaps, and you chance at look up at him. Still golden in the light of the sunset, impossibly handsome with an almost confused scowl and deep words you can feel in your chest. “She was an annoying bitch, I didn’t give a fuck about her.”

“But you were, um,” you force the words out, chewing on your tongue. “You were hungry.”

“What-“

“For her. I could feel your hunger for her, and it’s your lust-“

“That was for you, smartass.”

The whole world because blurred and sharp all at once—like it does when you’re under Ben, with some part of him inside you and getting you high on just his touch and smell and feel—and you realize Ben is better than an angel, because he’s yours. This stubborn, grumpy, impossible man is all yours, and you can feel his love hot and focused in your chest.

“Oh.”

Ben snorts slightly, and you can feel an airy, smug disbelief in his head. “Have you seriously been thinking I was trying to fuck Boob-Drugs this whole time-“

“Fuck you-“

“I wanted to.” Ben grins, and the soreness is obliterated by a swelling, hot and bright feeling in his chest and spine. “I wanted to pick you up and fuck you on that table, Sunshine. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m never going want to fuck anyone but you again.” He turns his head, eyes still on the road, and kisses your brow. “I told you my dick is yours, darling, and it has been for a damn long while. I love you, not some fucking coke whore in a club.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you press your head back into his body, moving one hand to tangle in his. I love you too. And if it helps, my pussy is yours.

Ben chuckles, and it rolls through your body, leaving everything soft and calm in its wake. Good.

You nod, a little stupidly, and start to wonder if Ben asking you to marry him hadn’t just been a half-dream created by all your love for him that lived with your head. That it hadn’t just been a wishful haze born from the smell of pine and taste of salt, or the feel of warm safety around you and constant loop of Ben, Ben, Ben that was everything good. If the deep words you’d felt in your bones weren’t just created by your cock-drunk, Ben-drunk brain.

You don’t get to ask, though, because Ben’s pulling into the rest stop and demanding your order before repeating it in rough words to the drive-thru speaker. You put on your sunglasses, just for safety, and Ben leans his body forward to half-block any view of you from the cashier and serving windows.

From there, the rest of the drive is impossibly easy. Things with Ben are always easy, but you know that he’s working harder than usual to keep it that way. He lets you put on music to cover the rumble of the engine, and gives you pointed glares when your food starts to be forgotten in your hands. He’s indulging in your every rant about nothing, pulling you out of any spiraling thoughts of three hours to Boston, three hours until you’re either one step closer to killing Homelander or dead in the water with such skill that you’re starting to wonder if he’s studied for this. If Ben’s trained himself to keep your head clear, and your smile on your face instead of fading into the haunting thoughts of soon. Soon you may have to fight-

“Ryan told me you got him a bunch of fucking books.”

You nod, and your smile spreads a little wider, a little more naturally. “I did. He read all of Butcher’s.”

“Butcher reads?”

“Allegedly, yes.”

Ben snorts. “That pussy doesn’t have the damn patience-“

“Benjamin, my love, you don’t have the patience. You have the attention span of a toddler.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, but every inch of annoyance on his face is fake, because you can feel all his affection and care in your body. Warm and innate and permanent. “I am not a toddler-“

“No,” you hum, giving him a sweet, teasing smile. “But you are a massive fucking man baby. My massive fucking man baby, who I love very much and takes very good care of me.”

He rolls his eyes, and the glow moves up his spine. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you think Ryan’s okay?”

Ben’s frown deepens. “Of course he’s okay, he’s got us. The kid has finally started to fly and laser at the same time, and you’re real fucking kind to him when he gets all sad about his pussy-fuck father-“

“I mean with everyone away.” You cut Ben off with a sigh, even as his words make the world around you soft and vivid and lined with a light you never want to lose. “This is all hands, and he’s all by himself-“

“He’s strong.” Ben squeezes his hand in yours, voice firm and everything in him made of an unwavering, concrete care. “He’s a smart kid, who’s gotten through a fuck ton more than one day alone. We’ll be home soon, and you can fuss all over him-“

“I do not fuss-“

Ben chuckles, shaking his head as a flash of amusement runs between your bodies. “You fuss all the damn time. Christ, you fuss over me,” he grins down at you as he says your name, and it makes everything in you a little electric. “But you’re a fuck ton meaner about it.”

“Well Ryan’s nicer to me,” you stick your tongue out at him. “And you’re an asshole.”

“But you still fucking fuss.” Ben winks at you, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Because you love me.”

“I do love you,” you mutter. ”But I don’t fuss. You fuss.”

“The fuck I do-“

“You always make me eat.” You lean forwards, kissing his jaw. “And you make sure Ryan’s doing well in school, And you never let us push ourselves, and you’re always making sure we’re okay, and you love us-“

“Whatever.” Ben grumbles, glaring at the lamp-lit road, and you giggle.

“Grumpy-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He rolls his eyes, frown twitching as you lean into his side. “You’re lucky I love you-“

“I know.” You turn your face to nuzzle into his shoulder, ensuring that every breath is Ben. Pine and salt and gunpowder and Ben. “I really am.”

The glow returns in a full, brutal force, and it’s like a sedative. The world starts to blur in a way that you don’t want to hide or run from, and Ben is muttering low words that you can’t hear but still feel in your body. Soothing your head and easing you into a molten warmth that’s just too good to fight. Your eyes start to droop, and just before everything turns into a dark, simple daze of sleep, you feel a big, rough, warm hand brush hair from your face, and rumble of words that you don’t fully understand but, still make you know that everything is right here. That voice is Ben’s—everything around you is Ben—and he loves you, and nothing bad can really happen as long as that’s true.

And it will always be true, and that knowledge pulls you all the way under, into dreams of sunlight and green and something perfect that’s just out of reach, but still yours. Still everything, and made of love so strong you feel it a little beyond your body.

It’s all you feel until a finger you recognize as everything good brushes over your lip, and you drag your eyes open to find Ben watching you. His gaze is attentive and devout, and when you smile at him everything becomes ardor and a zealous wrath of love in your chest. Feral and watchful and protective, in a perfect time with the song in your head of Ben. The night is dark, but you can still see light everywhere because Ben.

You know you’ve arrived—there are horns blaring in the distance, and you can smell the pungent, briny ocean of the Boston docks—but you’re still breathing without thought because Ben is here, and you can fucking do this.

You’re okay.

I’m okay. You take a heavy breath, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid, strong body against yours—fingers holding your chin with a firm, gentle touch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders with a hand rubbing patterns in your skin—and his determined, concrete feeling of care. Are we ready?

Whenever you are.

You nod, peeling yourself away from where you’d slump and molded into Ben’s hold, but lean back to give him one, soft kiss on the cheek. I love you.

I love you too, he mutters in your head, tangling at hand in your hair and gently moving your mouth to his. We’ve fucking got this.

You hum into Ben’s kiss, holding his face between your hand, keeping his brow against yours when you separate for breath. We’ve got this.

Ben had parked right next to the limo, so you shed your jacket and sunglasses before climbing out, replacing them with a black hoodie that will hopefully lend you some stealth, and follow Ben out of the car.

When you knock of the driver’s window, it rolls down to reveal a scowling Butcher, his arm hanging out the window as he looks over you and Ben with contempt.

“It’s nine fucking thirty.”

“Congratulation on being able to read a clock, asscuck-“

“We said eight forty-five.” Butcher cut off Ben with a snapping hiss “You horny fuckin twats are late. Again.”

“These roads are fucking dogshit.” Ben shrugs, holding Butcher’s glare with an indifference. “Let us in the damn limo so we can get this over with.”

Butcher lets out a huff of annoyance, stands out of the driver’s seat, opens the back doors, and lets you and Ben climb in before following and locking the door behind him.

“You’re late-“

“Someone wouldn’t let me drive,” you give MM an apologetic look as Ben pulls you half onto his lap. “We’d have been here two hours early if he did-“

“I don’t let you drive,” Ben drawls. “Because you’re a fucking criminal behind the wheel.”

“No, I’m not-“

“You are, Sunshine. Christ, Hughie and Kimiko have seen it,” Ben turns to them, brows raised. “She’s a fucking menace when she drives, isn’t she.”

Kimiko just signs I don’t care, it’s fun, but Hughie’s eyes widen, his facing turning red.

“I, um, I’ve only seen it once, and it was kind of an intense day-“ Hughie’s stutters are cut off by Annie, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring at Ben.

“Don’t do that to him, Ben. He’ll have a panic attack about picking a side and we’ll have to wait until he calms down.”

Everyone freezes, and you know it’s not just you that heard it.

“Did you,” MM clears his throat, eyes narrowing at Annie with a frown. “You called him-“

“C’mon guys.” Annie gives a flat look around the dead quiet limo. “I mean, he’s clearly here for the long term, and it’s been getting weird to call him Soldier Boy when I talk to you,” Annie nods in your direction, saying your name with a bored tone. “About how much you love him and how good his dick is.”

Your whole face flushes as Butcher lets out a sputtering cough, Frenchie gives Ben a nod of respect, and MM’s gape almost unhinges his jaw.

Ben himself isn’t at all helpful, kissing the top of your head and wrapped in a smug, blazing feeling of energy that—when you lean back to glare at him—makes him look almost boyish. He’s looking down at you, nothing but want and love and adoration in his eyes, and you almost whimper at how effectively he’s pulling you apart under his gaze. He looks so happy—even with the mission only one strict reminder to remain on track away—and nobody’s but Ben has ever looked at you like that before. Like he’s proud just to be at your side, as if you’ve given him something just by loving him. You think you have, because his grin is so wide and handsome and cocky, and his words in you are so certain you can feel it settle in your veins and nerves.

Christ, you must really love me if you’ve got Annie calling me my damn name-

Fuck you, Benjamin-

You want to. You fucking love me. He squeezes his arms around you, eyes dancing with cocky, comfortable light. You really damn love me.

You know I love you, you asshole. Shut up.

No. I’m allowed to brag about my woman loving me as much as I goddamn want-

MM let out a long, half-groaning sigh, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. “You know what, we don’t got the time for this. Let’s do this shit, and then Soldier Boy can be Ben to you motherfuckers all he wants, as long as I never have to hear about his dick again. Hughie-“

“The warehouse should be clear, I didn’t see anyone on their cams.” Hughie glances at Annie, who’d dropped her hand from his shoulder to rest over his own. “Annie, can you-“

“I can fry them.” Annie frowns into the air. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to only fry the cams, I might take out the lights too-“

“We got that fuckin covered, Starlight, don’t worry your blonde little head.“ Butcher nods to Frenchie, who pulls a bag out from under his seat.

“I have made them solar powered,” Frenchie pulls a flashlight, displaying it for the whole team to see. “And left them in the sun for several hours. Should we be plunged into the darkness,” he makes a dramatic gesture, grinning around the limo. “There will be light.”

Annie leans backward with a relieved expression, and you tap your fingers on Ben’s forearm as you speak.

“We all know what we’re looking for?”

MM nods. “If those papers were up to date, six to seven crates label RRD.”

“Red River Donations,” Butcher mutters. “Bloody cunts not even tryin to hide it.”

You swallow, pushing on. “And the plan? Everyone got that?”

“In and out, Madame.” Frenchie says your name with a solemn tone, chest puffed. “No messes, no trail, no fuckery.”

“No fuckery.” You nod, chewing on your cheek until you taste metal. “No evidence. Annie, if you can, try to fry out a few of the other warehouses, so it looks like a circuit blew. And no matter what, we’re just getting the V.” You give Butcher a firm glare. “Got it?”

“I’m all fuckin in, Love.” Butcher gives you a sarcastic—but not crude or mocking—grin. “Like Frenchie said, in and out, and all you cunts can be home to jerk each other off by midnight.”

You flip him off, and look back to the rest of the group. “MM, you’ve got-”

“Groupings, after we all get armed. Look alive motherfuckers, here we go.”

“Here we go.” You echo, looking around this limo with a tight, close-lipped smile that hurts your face. “Make it quick, stick together, and no fuckery.”

Everyone makes various sounds of agreement, shuffling out of the limo in silence. Ben keeps his arm around you as you separate from the group—weapons being passed out and Butcher lecturing Hughie about how to drive a limo, and to not throw a fuckin raver while we’re gone, Lad—so you lean into his body, forcing your breathing to stay in time with his.

I’m sticking with you, Ben grunts, popping Butcher’s trunk to grab his guns and shield. And if MM tries to pair me off with someone else-

He won’t. You’re stuck with me, Pretty Boy. Get used to it. You watch Ben’s stoic expression carefully, reaching up a hand to trace over the deep lines on his face. When he looks down at you—all his concern and care like armor over your skin—something softens in his eyes.

Good. Ben leans down, kissing the space between your eyes. I like being stuck with you. Even when you’re a fucking brat.

I like being stuck with you too, cunt. You wrap your arms around torso, burying your head in his chest and just breathing in Ben. Pine and gunpowder and Ben. Strong and certain and yours, holding you until you rest your chin on his chest, studying his narrowed, concerned frown you can feel all over your skin and like lead in your heart. If there’s no V-

There will be. His voice is almost stern grunt in your head, and his brow drops to yours. We’ve fucking got this.

You nod, and stay here—with Ben—until it’s not an option anymore. Until holding his face between your hands and sharing his breath doesn’t fully stop your brain and heart from racing, but solidifies the instinct of Ben just a little bit more. It’s already carved into you, already permanent, but it keeps growing stronger. Keeps finding its way into deeper parts of you that might have just not existed before, but are now pulling open for Ben to have. And finding a new place for Ben to be a part of you—this one somewhere across your skin, bitten by the chill of ocean wind and beginning to come down, down, down into something green and warm—will have to be enough.

You and Ben return to the group—one of his arms over your shoulders, and the other holding his shield at his side—and you take in how everyone but seemingly you and Annie is armed. Even Hughie has a gun, even if he keeps glancing at it like it might try to run away from him. But you don’t think Annie knows how to shoot, and you don’t need a gun. The fire is all yours under your skin, and Ben’s at your side, so you’ll be fine. The night air is wired and suffocating, and every distant city noise sets off a cold flare in your body, but you’ll be fine.

“We’re splitting in half,” MM grunts. “Two supes per team, Hughie holding down the fort. I’ve got Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie.” MM says your name with a short nod, and something lights up over your bones when you realize you’re in charge of group two. “Is taking Soldier Boy and Butcher. And if anyone tries to fight me on this shit, I’ll shoot them, so don’t fucking test me.”

Butcher glowers, slowly closing his mouth with an eye roll, and you look up at the blue-tinted sky, not a star in sight.

“Annie, can you-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the world starts to fry, crackling and sparking around you. For a second, everything is blinding light, scorching into your eyes and lingering for a painful second before you’re able to see the dark harbor and warehouse, visible in the distant lights of the city and sky.

You got lucky. Your eyes healed within half a second, but most everyone else is still rubbing and blinking, and Annie’s looking around the half-blinded group with a guilty expression.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry guys-“

“They’ll be fine,” Ben snaps, face slightly scrunched as his own eyes recover. “A little light isn’t going to goddamn kill the pussies, Annie, don’t fucking whine.”

Annie nods slowly with a little less shame in her eyes, Kimiko places a reassuring hand on her arm, and you bump Ben’s shoulder with yours.

That was very sweet of you, Benjamin, my love-

Shut the fuck up. Ben grumbles your name between your heads, raising you a little off the ground as he kisses the side of your head. Feeling guilty is only going to slow us down-

You twist your head, moving Ben’s mouth to yours for a simple, easy, gentle kiss. I know. But you still made her feel better. So thank you.

He just grunts—deepening the kiss until his tongue is tracing over your teeth and his hand his kneading at your skin—and you let out a soft, airy sigh. You can fucking do this, and then your whole life will get to be moments like this. Where Ben’s glaring at you, but you know he doesn’t mean it because you can feel him wrathful and fond and rough, rolling around in your chest and humming with an affection and love that’s more real and tangible than anything else in the world.

You can do this.

Kimiko and Ben open the doors of the warehouse—blackened and filled with cold, drafting winds—as Frenchie passes out the flashlights and Butcher stomps to your side, a scowl on his face you can feel searing into you.

“I got somethin you need to answer, Love.” He mutters, and you drag your gaze from Ben to meet his eyes.

“Butcher, we don’t have time-“

“Edgar.” He hisses, glare narrowed and firm. “You and the simpin cunt better have gotten some answers for me-“

You give Butcher an amused look. “Did you just say simping-“

“Love, I’ll call that puppy dog of yours whatever the bloody hell I want. Tell me what Edgar told you.”

Ben-

I know. I can hear. What the fuck is a simping-

I’ll tell you later. I’m going to tell Butcher about the Cornucopia, but not the extra V. I need you to back me up on what-

I always back you up, Sunshine, don’t be fucking stupid.

Your face flushes slightly as you return your attention to Butcher, and you have to fight the small smile tugging at your lips from how annoyed Ben sounded at the very idea that he’d ever stand against you.

“We’ve got to move,” you tell Butcher, flexing your fingers slightly. “I’ll tell you while we look.”

Butcher’s jaw twitches, but he nods. “Fine. Let’s get this shit over and fucked out.”

Ben returns to you—and now Butcher, both men glaring at each other like if they stop their dicks will fall off—and you look over to MM’s team with a tense, grim smile.

“If you find it first, get it back to Hughie and have Annie send out a signal. If we get it first, I’ll send the signal. Annie-“

“Long flash for regrouping, short for,” Annie swallows. “Emergencies.”

“Okay, good.” You look into the seemingly infinite darkness of the warehouse, chewing on your lower lip as you speak. “We’ll take left, you guys take right. No wandering, and don’t be stupid.”

MM nods. “Good luck, motherfuckers. See you on the other side.”

They go in first, Annie’s hand lit up and everyone else holding guns and flashlights. For a second the daunting, long shelves and halls of the warehouse are illuminated, and when they’re cast in shadows that fade back to pitch black once more, you light a small fire in your palm and take a long breath.

“Shelf by shelf.” You don’t bother to look at Ben or Butcher as you speak, because Ben always listens and Butcher’s a dick, but not an idiot. “Try and be subtle, and keep each other’s backs. Ready?”

You hear two low grunts, and roll your eyes.

“Can I get a verbal affirmation, testosterone representatives?”

“Stop wastin time, Love, and just bloody go-“

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Ben sneers, and you turn to glare at them both.

“Rules.” You snap, eyes narrowing and the fire in your hand growing a little brighter, feeling a little more inlaid and pure in your body. “Benjamin, you’re the love of my life and I adore you, but if you spend the whole time pissing off Butcher you lose blowjob privileges for a month, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“In the doghouse Gov, tough fuckin luck-“

“And you.” You turn your glare to Butcher, and he falls silent with eyes wider than you’ve seen them before. “If you antagonize him, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

You get a crude, huffed agreement from Butcher and take it, turning back to the warehouse.

“Let’s do this.”

For the first five rows, you search in silence. Ben and Butcher keep their guns raised—the former directly at your side and the latter a pace behind—and you realize that Butcher’s shock and compliance hadn’t just been from your words. Your fingertips are wrapped in a white flame that casts long shadows on the floors and walls when you move, and when you turn to look at Ben around the end of shelf four, he’s watching you with an awe.

Fucking Christ, Sunshine.

You frown at him. What?

Your eyes. They’re burning.

They don’t feel like they’re burning. Your vision is clear, and your fire is controlled like an extended muscle as the ghost-like flames light the warehouse, so you shake your head slightly. No, they’re not-

The fuck they’re not. “Butcher.” Ben grunts, his eyes still on yours, hitting something deep in your body and unraveling it with a care you feel along your spine. “What do her eyes look like.”

Butcher glances at you and scoffs. “The fuck am I supposed to say, fire? She got fire-eyes?”

Ben gives you a pointed, smug look, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Shut up.”

“Looks hot.” Ben shrugs, winking at you. “I wouldn’t be mad if you broke that out later.” He pauses, then adds. “For sex.“

You snort. “Yeah, I got that part by myself, Pretty Boy-“

“Can you twats not eye-fuck each other right in front of me?” Butcher sneers, poking at a crate with his gun, glaring at it like the box is personally responsible for you and Ben. “I ain’t a prude, but it’s bloody disgusting, keep it in your fuckin brain connection shit-“

“The Ben’o’phone.” You nod, not bothering to fight your smile at Ben’s adorable, grumpy glare.

“We agreed not to fucking call it that-“

“I didn’t agree to anything, Benjamin, my love. And you haven’t pitched anything else-“

“I’m not pitching fucking shit, but I’ll eat Butcher’s ass before I call it that-“

“Come near my ass, Gov, and I’ll fuckin shoot you.” Butcher grunts, his glare turning back to you. “And you still need to get real bloody specific about Edgar-“

“The debt is cleared.” You cut Butcher off with short, well-chosen words. “Edgar is, hopefully, not our issue anymore.”

“And the Cornucopia-“

“He,” you sigh, bracing yourself for Butcher’s reaction. “He gave it to me.”

Butcher freezes, looking you up and down with a taut, deep glare. “The fuck are you talkin about. The bloody tits were the keys ever for-”

“A villa in Rome.” Your fingers start to tap on nothing, and you keep your voice neutral and even as you continue. “It was Fredrick Vought’s, then Edgar’s, and now, apparently, it’s mine.”

“In Rome.” Butcher repeats, shaking his head slightly. “Dr. Vought had a villa in Rome and Edgar is just handin it to you? Nah, Love, that ain’t trackin-“

“Well, it’s the truth.” You snap. “I don’t understand it either, but it’s all we’ve got to go on. Now can we please keep moving-“

Suddenly, Ben goes rigid. Standing slightly taller, looking around the shelves with an almost feral attention you can feel raging in your chest, wrapping over your lungs.

Ben-

You hear the click of Ben’s gun, and he takes one stride to stand in front of you, the barrel pointed in the direction of the warehouse entrance. Stay quiet.

Benjamin, what’s-

“The fuckin hell is wrong with you-“

Ben cuts Butcher off with a hiss. “Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not alone.”

Your blood goes cold, a chill hitting your body that makes everything suddenly far too taut and electric around you. “Ben,” you whisper. “How many.”

“One.” He grunts, taking a half-step back so he can glance at you. His jaw is clenched, voice low. “Fast heart. Not Homelander.”

The world stops blurring, but you’re still on edge. Nobody should know you’re here, and if a single person catches you, this whole thing could blow. “Who-“

“William!” A cool, angry voice echoes through the warehouse. “I know you and the Boys are here. Are you a fucking idiot?”

All three of you become rooted in place as you recognize the owner of the shout, sharing wide-eyed expression of shock.

“What the fuck is Mallory doing here,” you whisper, words pushed through your teeth. “How did she even know-“

“This is remarkably risky and stupid, even for you dumbasses.” Mallory continues yelling, and you see Ben’s grip on the gun become white. “Stealing government property is a felony, and I can’t let you-“

Butcher hisses your name, nodding to your still burning fingers. “You have to turn the nightlight off, right fuckin now-“

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to pull the fire back under your skin, but it keeps itching and scraping its way back out as Mallory’s words ring through the warehouse.

“I know you’re here, and unless you want to fucking abandon Campbell for me to arrest-“

“Hughie!” That’s Annie’s voice, and it’s frantic, in a sizzling time with the wires above your head. “Mallory, this isn’t his fault-“

“I don’t care whose fault it is, I need you all to come out so we can talk like adults and not petulant children!”

You feel Ben’s body press slightly into yours, and open your eyes to see him watching you. They’re moving. What’s our play.

I don’t know. You shake your head, your nails digging into your skin as you try to pull the fire back down. Ben, how did she know we’re here. Who else-

Someone’s calling your name, and the fire flares up your arm. It’s a nervous, softer voice, and it’s Ryan’s.

Your name echoes around you once more, and then, “Ben? Butcher? Aunt Grace said you’re in trouble, I want to help-“

You start running to the entrance of the warehouse, the ringing in your ears only just quiet enough to still hear Ben and Butcher barely steps behind you.

“Ryan!” You’re half-screaming, not caring that Mallory can hear you. “Where are you?!”

Ben overtakes you in a second, his voice in your head urgent and low. Front entrance-

You don’t bother to listen to the rest, breaking into a full-on sprint until you can see the break of the skyline, dark over the ocean, and seven silhouettes in the door. You skid to a stop—Ben catching your arm to prevent a stumbling fall—and take in MM, Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie in tight stances off to the side, Hughie with a sheepish, anxious expression trying to slowly inch closer to Annie, Ryan a pace outside the warehouse, and Mallory at his side, gun raised and aimed right at your head.

“Don’t move,” Mallory warns, the gun clicking. “I will shoot.”

You feel Ben’s hand tighten on your arm to an almost bruising grip, his own wrath moving the earth under your feet, but your fury is hotter and brighter, zealous and unforgiving as you narrow your eyes at Mallory.

“What the fuck did you do,” you hiss, flattening a palm on Ben’s chest in a silent signal not to move. “Did you bring Ryan-“

Mallory scoffs. “Of course I didn’t bring Ryan, he must have followed me-“

“I wanted to help,” Ryan whispers, his whole face pale, his body curling into itself slightly. “I’m getting stronger, I can help-“

“Ryan, this ain’t something for you to do.” Butcher grunts, taking one, slow step closer to the entrance. “And you, Grace, are you out of your bloody mind? Tellin the kid we’re in danger just to fuckin one-up us-“

“I am doing my job.” Mallory snaps, re-aiming the gun at Butcher. “You are disobeying direct orders from the president-“

“That order was wrong, Grace.” MM mutters. “And you know it-“

Mallory sighs. “This isn’t the time for that, Marvin. We can’t afford to lose sight of order right now, and you are still CIA employees-“

“We’re not.” Ben grunts, rising to his full height as he glowers at Mallory. “You don’t fucking pay us. We can do whatever to goddamn hell we to get the job done-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory warns. “I’d advise you remember the conditions of your deal-“

Ben snorts, raising his own gun. “Fuck your deal. Ryan, get inside.”

“Ryan, don’t move.” Mallory holds Ben’s glare, her gun moving to not him, but you. “You’re all going to come peacefully, or I’ll shoot-“

It’s your turn to laugh. A dry cackle that you hate the sound of, because it’s fueled by something hateful and cruel. “Go ahead. I’ll live and you have to know that he’ll,” you tilt your head to Ben. “Kill you. Immediately.”

“You’re not the type to make threats,” Mallory says your name, even as her gaze flits to Ben. “And you overestimate your importance to this operation-“

“Do I?” You shrug. “I don’t think I do. I think you’d be fucked without me. Without Ben. Ryan,” you look past Mallory, your heart straining and turning over at the pure fear on Ryan’s face. “Please come here, it’s not safe to stay outside right now, this is dangerous-“

“He’s a supe.” Mallory snaps, and Ryan starts to lean forward, like he wants to run but can’t. “He’ll be fine-“

“He shouldn’t have to be.” You stretch out a hand to Ryan, the fire starting to dim. “Ryan, I know you want to help, but this isn’t the place. We’re not in danger now, but we can’t risk lingering here. Please-“

Ryan takes a tentative step forward, and Mallory’s face twists into a sneer in your direction.

“You are not his guardian,” she says your name, taking a side-step to block Ryan’s path. “Neither you nor Solider Boy have any claim to him-“

“He’s my fucking grandson-“

Mallory cut’s Ben off with a scoff. “Who you tried to kill-“

“You ain’t better, Grace.” Butcher mutters, and you realize his own gun has risen back up, aimed right a Mallory’s chest. “You’d use the kid as a fuckin weapon against his psycho cunt father-“

“Homelander?” Ryan whispers, watching Mallory with a slack, almost tragic expression. “You want me to, to fight my dad-“

“You’re stronger,” Mallory snaps, her voice flat, words spoken as if they’re inherent. As if it’s obvious that Ryan must fight Homelander. “You’d kill him, and we wouldn’t have to waste time with the V-“

“But the V would work, right? Ben said it would work-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory shoots Ben a daggered glare. “Has lost sight of the mission. You are our best bet, Ryan, as the Anomaly has failed to stand against Homelander.”

Annie’s mouth falls open, and you feel relief flash through you as you realize Hughie has made it back to her side. “It’s not her fucking job to fight her rapist, Mallory-“

“If it isn’t,” Mallory’s gaze returns to you, and you feel something start to bubble over between your joint and in your muscles. “Then the responsibility falls to Ryan.”

“I, I don’t want to fight him.” Ryan stutters. “I’m sorry, I don’t, I know what he’s done, but I can’t-“

“You won’t.” Ben snaps, jerking his head in your direction. “Go to her, Ryan.” There’s a pause, long and heavy in your lungs, and then Ben grunts, “please,” and it dissipates as Ryan starts to move.

“Ryan-“

“I don’t want to fight, Aunt Grace,” Ryan mumbles, walking slowly past Mallory. “I just want to help, without anyone else getting, getting hurt because of me.“

Ryan reaches your side, and the flames waver almost instantly into smoke as he wraps a hand around your arm, clinging to you like he might drift away if he doesn’t. Almost on instinct you pull him a little closer, wrapping him in a hug as Ben shifts his body to fully block you and Ryan from Mallory’s gaze.

“Soldier Boy, watch yourself. I will not hesitate to return you to the box.”

Your hands tense slightly on Ryan’s head, and you try to keep your breathing steady for his sake as you hear Ben’s drums, watch the muscles of his back tense at the words.

“Walk away, Grace.” MM grunts, and from the corner of your eye you see his gun raise as well, and hear Mallory’s noise of disbelief. “We’re going to take the V, take Ryan, and leave. You’ll see us again when the dust settles, but I’d advise you take a leave of absence right fucking now.”

“Marvin, have you forgotten that this asshole killed your family-“

“No.” MM’s words are certain, resolved and flat. “I haven’t. But I’m practicing some motherfucking forgiveness, and no matter what I’m not letting you put the kid in the line of fire. Last warning. Leave.”

There’s sounds of shifting, and when you glance around you realize that everyone has raised their weapons. All aimed at Mallory, all paired with solemn, grave expressions as they move like a wall in front of you and Ryan. At Ben’s side.

And—between the space of Ben and Butcher’s bodies—you see Mallory lower her gun with a thin lipped, cold glare.

And you smell coconut.

And something is wrong.

Ben-

You hear him first. Behind you, with stiff steps and humming an off-key, patriotic tune. And when you whirl around—keeping Ryan steady against your body, his face hidden from full view—your veins bite with frost, and something broken wails and twists in your gut.

“Well, well, well.” Homelander’s smiling is wide, all white teeth, made of a rage that’s in every tense muscle on his face, and there’s a glint of something like poison in his eyes. “What a lovely coincidence to run into all you here!” His eyes scan over your group, and you don’t have to look back to know they’ve all frozen. You can feel Ben’s eyes looking between you and Homelander, hear the drums drawing closer as that part of him inside you begins to riot and bang on your ribcage.

Ben grunts your name in your head, and you realize you’ve started to lean back. Closer to him, further from Homelander. You need to get behind me right fucking now-

I can’t. Your breathing is forced, in and out of your body as you try to stifle the horrible, artificial, sickly smell of Homelander. Try to pretend he’s not close enough that you can see the slight wrinkles on his suit. If I move, he’ll move.

“It really is all of you, isn’t it?” Homelander sounds delighted, and you feel sick. Cold and vile, suffocating and unable to draw in any new air. “The whole gang is here! Oh, this is too good, we can be done in ten minutes tops!“

“How the fuck did you get here, Homelander.” Annie hisses. “How did you find us-“

“I followed Ryan, of course.” Homelander’s turns back to you, his smile growing manic, and you hold Ryan a little closer. “Good flying, son, but let’s work on getting a little higher up in the air next time, huh? Don’t want satellites to track you again.”

He laughs—continuing to taunt Annie with words you don’t hear—and Ryan looks up at you with a panic in his eyes you feel scratching at your skin and heart, making everything too sharp and bright, filling the world with a terror that lives in Ryan’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ryan whispers your name, and his voice pleading. “I didn’t mean to, I promise, I just wanted to help-“

“I know you did.” You run a hand over his brow, forcing your voice to be soothing as your eyes darting between every rise and fall of Homelander’s chest and Ryan’s pallid features. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“I, I’m sorry-“

“I know.” You repeat, swallowing down a bile in your throat that’s made of either Ryan’s fear or yours. It’s hard to really tell the difference. “You’re going to be okay, Ryan, I promise.”

There is no guarantee you can keep that promise. But you will do everything in your fucking power to make sure Ryan gets out of this, and you know Ben—alive inside you, alert and wrathful behind you—will do the same.

Then Homelander says your name, you have to meet his eyes. You have to keep Ryan against you, and try not to just scream as blue, cold, hateful and evil eyes carve into your head, violating and invasive and wrong.

“Thank you, honey, for getting Ryan for me. Come here. Now.”

“I,” you take a long breath, and a shaking half step back. “No. You’re not touching him.”

“Fine, you can hold him.” Homelander rolls his eyes, extending a red-gloved hand. “I mean, I’m glad you’re finally getting into that mother bond shit, but he’s still my son. I’ll want him back eventually, and we’ll get you another one once this is all just a funny story to tell our it.”

“No.” Your voice is a little louder this time, and the cracks over your head and heart are starting to leak something like venom into your teeth, spitting with every word. “You’re not touching either of us. Ever.”

Homelander’s eyes narrow. “Are you still throwing this temper tantrum? I got it the first time,” he snaps your name, and you can feel Ben roar inside of you. “I’ll let you outside more, and you can do, let’s call it 50% less TV appearances. But I can’t kill these fucking idiots until you’re over here, and this is a family affair, so let’s get this over with and we’ll talk about it more at home-“

“They ain’t goin anywhere with you, cunt.” Butcher snaps, and you see his move forward in your periphery. “And you don’t got a family. You’re just a sorry, lonely fuckin murderer who don’t got no one.”

Homelander’s jaw twitches. “That’s cruel William. And wrong.I have my son, with your lovely wife, may she rest in peace, and my fiancée and I-“

“She is not your fucking fiancée,” Ben growls, and you can feel him move a little closer. “She’s not your anything.”

“What, do you think she’s yours, Soldier Boy?” Homelander sneers. “She’s using you to get back at me! She’s a lying, manipulative bitch-“

“Shut your pussy fucking mouth.” He’s another step closer, and you risk another inch back. “Don’t ever fucking speak about my wi-“

“Your what.” Homelander clicks his tongue, looking between you and Ben with disgust. “Your whore? Did she turn around spread her fucking legs for you, again? Are you so pathetic that you’d pick up your son’s scrappy seconds-“

“I am not yours.” You whisper, leaning back a little further, until you can feel the warmth from Ben’s body. Kindling something inside you that makes you raise your chin, holding Homelander’s glare. “And Ben isn’t pathetic. At the very least, he’s never had to make me do anything.”

Homelander’s eyes flash, his neck flexing spits his words through teeth. “This isn’t cute anymore,” he sneers your name, and you have to force a long breath so that smoke doesn’t curl from your hands. “We’re going home, and all will be forgiven. Fucking my father, being weak and letting these rats manipulate you, every childish stunt you’ve pulled to try and hurt me when I love you. It will all be behind us, if you come home now.”

“No-“

He shouts your name, and you flinch. “I have.” Homelander’s head jerks, and he lets out a long, harsh exhale. “I have done everything right for you. I have loved you, turned you into a god, ensured that our marriage will be fruitful by asking your mother for fucking permission to marry you! We could be fucking Olympians. I could be a king, and you could be my queen, and we could fill the fucking world with children like Ryan! Stronger! You could be Madonna, the world will remember and worship you for a million years-“

“They’ll remember me for this.” You whisper, making sure your grip on Ryan is firm, your body wrapped over his. When you run, you aren’t going to drop him. “For killing you.”

“Well,” Homelander’s mouth draws into a sour, scoffing line. “If that’s what this is about, here you go.”

Homelander’s eyes glow red, and you realize what’s going to happen a second before it does. Your mouth falls open—maybe to bargain, maybe to beg, maybe to scream—just as Homelander turns, and lasers right through the warehouse. Shelves crashing down, boxes breaking open, a fire setting off deep, deep in the falling building and starting to spread before Homelander’s even moved back to face you.

“There.” He spreads his arms wide, half-gesturing to the wreckage behind him. “No more V. No killing me. Now stop playing these childish, annoying fucking games and come here.”

You’re frozen. You can feel Ben rolling and bellowing inside you, just a slight falling movement away from you crashing into him, and when you chance a look at the rest of your team—their faces washed in the dancing shadows and lights of the fire—they’re like statues. Ryan is still clinging to you, his fear everywhere in your body, his breathing shallow and rushed, and you don’t know what to do. Everything is moving too slowly around you to process, and there’s only fire that’s not cleansing but bloody, air that’s choked in artificial coconut, and earth and pavement cracking under your feet as the warehouse start to fall.

Then you hear the soft click of a gun, and vaguely register Mallory, pushing forward to Homelander, emptying her rounds into his chest. Bullets that fall to the floor with a rattling sound of metal, off-beat with the drums drawing closer to Ben, off-key with the ringing in your ears, and Homelander’s eyes glow red once more.

You feel something that’s heated—but foul and sticky and foreign—on your skin, Homelander’s eyes return to blue once more, and everything speeds back up.

Everyone is shouting around you. Plans are being made to get out, to find a way to survive this, but you’re not listening. Ben is grabbing you from behind, turning to so his body blocks you from Homelander’s view, and grabbing your chin with his free hand.

Run. Get Ryan the fuck out and run.

Ben-

I’ll find you, I’ll always fucking find you. You feel something rotten and aching start to cover his heart, but it’s not as strong as his wrath. As the hot, resolved, concrete fury in Ben’s body, that’s wrapping around you and making the world sharp as he searches your face with an almost desperate gaze. I swear I’ll find you, Sunshine, but you need to fucking run-

You lean forward, this kiss is feral. Savage and hopeful and made of pure, raw love. He’s everything, and you’re making sure he feels it. I love you, Benjamin.

I love you too. Ben grunts your name, running his thumb over your cheekbone with a soft, reverent touch. Run.

You nod, and don’t spare more than a glance at the scene before you—Mallory’s body split open on the pavement, Ben, Annie, Kimiko, and Butcher fighting Homelander as Frenchie, MM, and Hughie mostly just dodge and try to land blows where they can—before you take Ryan and go.

You hear Homelander roar your name behind you, and you don’t look back. There are flashes of light and heat ripping through the sky, and bangs and clatters as the warehouse begins to fully cave in, but you just keep fucking moving.

It’s useless to go for the limo—you hear it implode only moments after you pass it—so you pull Ryan deeper into the harbor, past more and more warehouses, trying not to drag him but unable to afford a single broken pace. Hiding is your best bet. Ryan’s shaking in your arms, sobbing and half-falling as you pull him along. Everything in his is made of pure, crippling fear that takes every single fiber of your will to push through, and you’re not faring much better. When you crumble against the wall of a warehouse that hides you in shadows and the crashing sound of the ocean, it starts to catch up with you.

How everything is cold, and you can’t fucking breathe. Everything is crashing and shattering around you, and it’s constricting over your lungs, plunging you into a white-hot pain that would be numbing if it didn’t feel like something was bruising and beating and searing into your skin. It’s holding you awake by your throat, and it’s made of wrong. Ben is in danger, and the drums keep falling in and out of time, and everything is wrong. Everything is thrashing and pulling and brutal inside you, trying to pull you back to Ben, but you have to stay here.

You have to stay here. With Ryan. It’s awful and you hate it, but you can’t leave Ryan. Another blow leaves an aching, denting pain on your skin like a phantom is trying to beat you into the ground, but you have to stay here, with Ryan.

He gasps your name, and you try to curl over him a little more. You can’t flinch when something hits you in your gut, or shout in pain as a foreign burn scratches over your skin. You have to keep a quiet as you can, and stay with Ryan.

“I didn’t mean to,” his words are choked, and his hold on your body might crack your bones. “I, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I wanted to help-“

You let out a soft shush, running your hand through his hair and over his brow. “I know, I know.” You sigh, and gently pry Ryan off your body. He goes with ease, letting you move him back just enough to meet your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Ryan, I know. It’s okay.”

His eyes are glossy with tears, and you think that it might be blurring your own vision. That, or the devastating pain that crashes through your chest—like someone’s hit with you with a bomb—or the way you swear you can hear Ben’s roar of pain somewhere on the wind.

“I’m sorry-“

“I know.” You don’t bother to try and smile at him, but you let your gaze grow soft, forcing down a sick, rotting and mold-like feeling that’s spreading over your chest. “This isn’t your fault, Ryan. It’s not.”

“Ben-“

“He’s strong.” You whisper, and he is. Ben is still alight and bloody and unforgiving inside of you, and the drums haven’t faded. They’re pounding louder and louder in your ears—never quite close enough, but drawing closer—and Ben is strong. “And he won’t blame you either. He knows this isn’t your fault, he won’t even think to blame you.”

“My dad-“

“We won’t let him hurt you.” That’s a promise you won’t let yourself break, so you pull Ryan a little closer and let him bury his head in the top of your chest. “I promise, he won’t hurt you.”

“Can you,” Ryan lets out a shaking breath, and his fear doesn’t fade, but becomes a little less like a disease. A little easier for you both to breathe through. “Can you keep talking? It’s, it’s really loud, I don’t like it.”

“Of course,” you push down another feeling of pain, pain inflicted on your skin by something evil and crushing against your head like a boulder. “Is there anything-“

“How did you meet Ben?” Ryan leans back a little, watching you with nervous, almost child-like eyes. Like maybe this is just a horrible nightmare, and he’s seeking easy comfort so he can go back to sleep. “He’s told me, but he kind of swore a lot, and he, um, isn’t a great storyteller.”

“No, he’s not.” You huff a soft laugh, and even as something slices over your skin, there’s a warm feeling humming in your head that’s always made of love for Ben. “I mean, he can be, but he does swear a lot. He’s a very vulgar old asshole.” You let out an almost dreamy sigh, and something crashes into the side of your head as you whisper, “I love him so much.”

Ryan’s nod is small, and he’s still watching you with wide eyes. “Did you, was it love at first sight-“

“God, no.” You keep your fingers combing in even patterns through Ryan’s hair, and raise your voice just a little more when he flinches at another too-close bang. “I thought he was the worst. He was crass and rude and mean, and I’d only been told that he was an asshole. And he is an asshole. But he’s also caring and honorable and determined and protective and reliable and loyal and rational and good. And he loves us.” The smile that tugs on your face is real, and Ryan returns it tentatively. “He loves both of us. A lot.”

“What’s his favorite color?”

“Green,” you hum, your smile growing a little bit more. “And he hates blue. Thinks it’s a pussy color.”

Ryan nods. “That, um, I think I’ve heard him say that.”

“You probably-” you cut yourself off with a slight groan, something beginning to beat into your face. And then it’s gone, and you hear a shout of your name. It’s from a voice that makes cracks line your vision, and it’s far too close. “Ryan, fuck,” you start to pull yourself up, taking Ryan with you as your whole body becomes sore, stinging and throbbing with that strange pain. “We need to move-“

Something cracks on the ground, wind rushing past you, and you shove Ryan behind your body as the cold sets in. Reducing everything to Homelander. Nine paces away and looking at you with a callous, hateful face.

“It’s over,” he hisses your name, hands locked behind his back as he takes you and Ryan in. “Your precious Ben isn’t strong enough to kill me, nobody is strong enough to kill me, now stop being a fucking bitch and come home.”

“No.” You whisper, and it’s more of prayer. A plea for something to help you, because you’re too weak. Your fire has gone dormant, and your blood has begun to try and climb out of your body, but you can’t control anything enough to not hurt Ryan. “Please, Homelander, please just leave us alone-“

“You’re fucking mine, I made you both, and no amount of prancing around and showing off your little party trick is going to change that you belong to me. You will always fucking belong to me-“

He takes a step forward, and the air feels like lead. “Please, just, just leave Ryan-“

“Nope.” Another step, and a disapproving tsk. “You’re both coming home, and we’ll get through this as a family. Don’t you want a family,” he says your name, and you feel so small. You can’t draw yourself up, can barely look him in the fucking eyes because they haunt your worst nightmares with how they butcher and chop and destroy every part of you that’s yours. “I mean, fuck, you can’t think Soldier Boy would give you one? He doesn’t care, and he’ll probably just, you know,” Homelander slices his hand over his throat with a click of his tongue. “You when you try to leave him. He’s not patient like I am. Also, let’s face it, your options are limited. You’re a fucking bitch, you’re lucky you’re pretty enough for me to put up with all your fucking tricks and manipulation and how annoying you are-“

“I’m sorry, I’ll, I’ll try to be better, just please leave Ryan-“

Another step. You’re trying to think of a way out, but there isn’t one. You don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, you’ll fucking shatter if you go back, and Ben is roaring your name somewhere in the distance but Homelander’s too strong. He’s malignant and unkillable and there’s no way to kill him now. You know Ben is trying to get to you and Ryan—you can feel him getting closer, alive and nuclear in your body—but he won’t be fast enough. He’s closer—and you feel something tear open in the crook of your elbow—so you can try to delay Homelander until he gets here, but it’s a slim shot.

Then, just after another step, something kills you before Homelander’s even at an arms distance. The whole world turnsto agony. Pure fucking pain and horror and anguish and you’re dying. It’s shredding you apart, and your whole body is wrapped in an unending explosion of pain. Your lungs feel like iron and your bones are burning and your skin is being flayed and ripped open and death would be better than this. You’re screaming—you only know because you can hear shrieks of pain that sound like yours—and your vision is clouding with black spots as your head caves in on itself. Your blood is made of lightning, and every nerve is trying to fly off your body as this feeling pulls you apart, as your organs and muscles are thrown around inside your body, being pried open and filled with something atomic. And then they seal shut and you take a desperate, ragged breath as the world clears.

You’re leaning against the wall, half slumping onto Ryan, and the pain is still lingering in your body. But Homelander is four steps away, and starting to reach out, and you can hear something good bellowing your name.

You can’t move—everything moving too slow and too fast all at once—but you still see Ben running behind Homelander, to you. Closer, so fucking close, but Homelander turns and sees him and it’s not close enough.

You’ll have to protect Ryan. Homelander is turning back to you with a crude, violent smile, and you know you’ll have to protect Ryan. Take every bullet you can so Homelander doesn’t ever hurt Ryan. And you’ll hold on to Ben, and you’ll fight and scrape your way out, figure out a way to get both you and Ryan home.

Ben says your name again, and it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s aching and tormented, like he, deep down, knows he won’t reach you on time. Your eyes lock onto his over Homelander’s shoulder, and try to smile at him. He’ll fight to get you. And you’ll always find your way back to him.

Homelander takes a lunging step, and you’re going to fucking survive this, and you’ll let the sound of Ben roaring your name haunt you in every dream until you get to hear him say it with a soft, easy devotion instead of a rabid, dreadful, wild desperation.

You keep your eyes on Ben’s as Homelander takes that last step, and then the world washes in gold. Everywhere around you, solid in a way that feels so familiar, and warm. Grounding you back in your head, clearing to world into something sharp and tangible and safe.

Homelander isn’t touching you. He’s punching against the layer of gold around you, and then flinching back with wide eyes and a strangled sound.

Then Ben comes up behind him, and smashes Homelander’s face right into the wall of light and energy around you before yanking him away, and tossing him halfway down the ally.

You press your hand against the gold, and realize it’s Ben. It’s so familiar because it’s simply just Ben. It’s humming at your touch—a little extra light growing where you’ve placed your hand—and you meet Ben’s firm, tense gaze with wide eyes.

Benjamin. What did you do.

Took the V. He glances down to where Homelander is groaning, starting to rise back up. Don’t let Ryan touch it, it feels like the nuke or some shit.

Are you fucking insane-

No, Ben looks back to you, and you feel him roll in your chest. It worked, and you’re safe. I’m fine-

You could’ve died, you dumbass-

But I fucking didn’t. Homelander’s on his feet against, and Ben’s body braces, his fist clenching at his side. Stay here.

You glance back to the wall—molding into and around your touch—and realize that if you pushed it a little more it might simply let you past. As if it counts you as a part of itself the same way your empathy counts Ben as a part of you.

“What, what’s going on-“

You wrap your arm back around Ryan, trying to shield his view as Ben deals the first punch and Homelander goes flying into a wired, barbed fence. “They’re fighting,” you whisper, unable to tear your eyes away as Homelander staggers back up, lasers Ben right in the chest, and a searing pain pulses in the exact same spot on your body. “Ben took some V. Don’t,” your gaze flies back to Ryan, and you catch his hand as it raises to the gold around you. “Don’t touch it. It could be dangerous.“

“But you touched it-“

“That’s,” you sigh, your body jerking as Homelander lands a blow on Ben’s gut. “That’s different. Ben and I are, um, we’re connected. It can’t hurt me.”

Ryan’s eyes widen. “Butcher told me you put your brain in him, and you can read each other minds-“

“Yeah, I,” you take a heavy breath as Ben doges Homelander’s next punch, and lands five in return. “I did. Plant my brain in him. But it’s not mind-reading, it’s more like texting. I send him thoughts, he-“ you make a choked sound as Homelander’s hand wraps around Ben’s throat, and a frantic gasp as Ben kicks Homelander back, his whole body seeming to glow through the haze of gold. The drums are clearer, falling into time faster. “Fuck, Ryan, cover your eyes.”

“Why-“

“Please,” you squeeze your arm around him, letting your gaze flick back to search over Ryan’s open, frightened expression you fell across your skin. It’s not the paralyzing fear from before, it’s heavy. Uncertain and head-wrecking. “You don’t need to see this, I promise-“

He just nods and buries his head in your arm. You hold him there, forcing your breaths in and out as the drums get closer. So close, Ben’s staring to illuminate the whole fucking world, and Homelander’s just fumbling on the ground-

He’s not fumbling. He’s groping at his own suit, trying to grab something.

No.

You don’t know if it’s just in your head, or called out to Ben aloud, or traded between your minds, but Ben looks up. At you.

Homelander throws something at Ben, it breaks on his chest, and you feel his panic—feral and animalistic and raw, covering every single part of your body and trying to rip out of your chest—right before his eyes widen, and then close.

Ben falls to the ground, the golden barrier around you fading away, and he’s quiet inside you. Not gone, never gone, but darkened.

Asleep.

And you’re not afraid anymore.

You’re angry.

You’re screaming Ben’s name, Homelander is standing up—dusting himself off and turning back to you—and you’re furious.

The whole world is made of fire. Your whole body is racked with it, building and churning under your skin, sealing over cracks and making breathing so fucking easy. The air is filled with smoke, but breathing isn’t an act of labor at all.

It’s a way to focus.

Because you’re going to kill Homelander.

He doesn’t see it coming. He’s an overconfident, narcissistic, monstrous pussy, so he doesn’t recognize that he did break you. A vital, impossibly powerful piece of you just snapped in your body when Ben crumbled on the ground, and your own voice sounds far away when you tell Ryan to run. To find Butcher, and go.

And then you’re moving. Half-flying to Homelander, and savoring the parasitic, hostile fear that rushes through you when your flaming fist collides with his face.

You’re in complete fucking control. Homelander stumbles back, and you don’t even fucking flinch. Your whole body is burning, your clothes turning to scorched ash under the white-purple flame, and you’re standing tall. Looking down your chin at Homelander as he collects himself, looking at you with an almost confused expression.

“What is this,“ he says your name, running his hand over where his skin has twisted and burned, and you don’t bother to hide your sneer as you answer.

“This is it, you cunt.” You hiss. “You’re never touching me, or anyone else I love again.”

“Oh, please, you do not love Soldier Boy-“

“You willing to bet on that?”

Homelander blinks, looking between your burning body and Ben’s sleeping one, and scoffs. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’d really leave me for him-“

“I’m not leaving you. I was never yours.” You take a step forward, the pavement cracking under your feet. “I do love him. I really, really love your father, because he’s a million fucking times the man you are. He’s never,” the fire building in your fists grows brighter. “Hurt me. He always fucking respects me. He loves me.” You slash an arm through the air, and the wave of fire that rolls from it sends Homelander scrambling back. “And after I kill you, I’m going to marry him. And then I’ll have his kids. And it won’t because I’m his fucking vessel, it will be because I want to. And they will never,” the air around you is waving and electric and Homelander’s eyes widen. “Even know your fucking name.”

It clicks. In Homelander’s horrid, amoral, evil mind, it finally clicks. His eyes narrow, beginning to glow red, and he’s finally fucking got that you hate him.

“Fine.” He spits your name, rising off the ground and sneering down at you. “Have it your way, you ungrateful bitch.”

You don’t care for banter, or taunting. You just want to finish this. So when he lasers through your chest you bite down on your tongue, but both heal over in a second—skin and muscle and organs reforming so fast you don’t even stutter a breath—and your face curls into a smirk. He can’t hurt you.

And then you’re moving.

Homelander is strong than you. Physically. In terms of brute force, Homelander has the upper hand.

But you’re burning the fucking world, and it’s singing for you. The fire inside you is a hurricane, it’s volcanic, it’s world ending and city leveling, and it’s all fucking yours. And it’s not razing the ground or ocean, because it’s all focused on Homelander. Your vision is lined with red, and you’re going to kill him.

You dodge almost every blow Homelander attempts to deal you, and your technique—thanks to Ben—is perfect. Every hit you land is measured and powerful, wrapped in fire that sizzles and twists and boils Homelander alive. He lasers through you twice more, and it’s just as ineffective as the first time. If anything you brush it off faster, because it kicks your adrenaline up and the pain barely jolt through you for more than a second.

You have the upper hand. Homelander’s falling back as your fire grows hotter, and he’s almost covering is hideous, still smoking scars. You explode in fire, hovering off the ground from the pure force, and it knocks him to the ground.

You yank his head up—golden hair singeing black under your fingers, skin bubbling and growing marred beneath your touch—and hold his slightly fogged gaze, letting every inch hatred and loathing and fucking wrath in your body push back on whatever fear or anger lives in him. Allow every bit of your blood into Homelander’s body like a poison, digging your nails into his skin.

You lower your face down to Homelander’s, and hope he feels your every word.

“I hate you.” You search every inch of his pathetic, weak fucking face, your words easy but still spoken through teeth. “I fucking despise you. You’re a monster, Homelander, and I am never going to do anything better in my life than making sure you never hurt anyone again.”

His eyes flash, glowing red and cutting through your body, but your grip only tightens. The smoke is choking his air-pipe, he’s burnt and mauled from your flame, and the roar that builds in his throat is primal.

Cold, leather hands grab your wrists, but his grip slightly slack as he gasps for breath, and he can’t push you away from him.

Homelander’s eyes on yours are frenzied, and suddenly he’s surging up. Not to his feet, but to you. His mouth moving to yours, and your hold on him loosens as you push away from him on an instinct of no. No, never again, cold and wrong and horrible and no.

There’s an echoing boom, and then he’s gone. Homelander blasts up into the air, and you’re left naked on the ground.

And Ben’s still asleep.

You sprint back to him–body still ablaze—falling to his side on the ground, grabbing his face in your hands. The weight and terror of what just happened is crashing into you, and Ben’s asleep. Homelander said Sage’s gas would last for three days, you can’t wait three fucking days, you need Ben now. You need to feel him in your chest, to tell him you love him and adore him, to hit him and shout at him about how fucking stupid it was to shoot up the V, how thankful you are he did because you’re still here, and everything is going to be okay because you’re still together.

His face is completely neutral. Not peaceful, but blank. And when you try to shout between your heads, for him to wake up, please wake up, Benjamin, I need you to wake up now, it’s like screaming into the sky.

You know you’re crying because of the sobs that shake your body, but the tears are evaporating into your flame. You’re weakly slapping Ben’s face, trying to get his eyes to just flutter, but it’s pointless.

Hitting him is pointless. You can try one more thing.

You drop your brow to his—you’d worry about his skin burning, but it might wake him up, and you aren’t actually seeing any blisters form where you touch him—and pray to a God you don’t believe in that it can be this easy. That, as you start to grow lightheaded and the world fades in and out, it’s because it’s working and not because you’re hyperventilating and screaming choked sounds of Ben’s name.

Then you feel strong, steady arms wrap around your body, and you collapse against him with strangled, pathetic noise.

He grunts your name in your head, and your fingers tangle in his hair. You’re okay.

I’m, you nod, even as you try and pull Ben closer, try to climb into his body so you can break in the safest place in the world. I’m okay.

Sunshine-

I’m okay, really, I’m just tired. I just, Ben pulls you fully onto his lap, and you wrap your legs over his torso with another sob. I love you, please don’t do that again-

Ben doesn’t push back about how it wasn’t at all in his control, or how you’ve pulled a lot of similar stunts that might have left him as broken as you feel. He just squeezes you, moving your head to rest in his neck, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

I won’t. And I love you too.

You nod, and there’s more to deal with, but you can’t make yourself move. You have to find the team and regroup, to figure out what to do with Mallory’s body, and work out Ben’s exact new powers, but you’re so tired, and those will still be issues in ten minutes. You have one last gamble to take—Homelander won’t face you head on, and you can’t risk Ryan like that ever again—and Sage’s next move to worry about, but right now you’ll just stay here. Sobbing into Ben’s body, letting him hum an off-key tune that’s meant to be Rainbow Connection until you’re only letting out shaky breaths, only feeling his warmth. He smells like pine and salt and gunpowder and something potent that’s mostly just Ben, and it’s invading your sense and bringing you down.

There will be more to do.

But you’re just going to stay here, with Ben, for a while.

End Note: Babe wake up, new Soldier Boy powers just dropped.

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painted-flag · 2 days ago

Text

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 16: Every Little Thing

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.3k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Death's hand extends towards the unwilling.

You carefully put on an intricate gown made for you. As you were back at the capital, you had worn their elvish clothes for the first time since you left on the trip. The journey to Lake Rosemange was spent in your more modest human clothes. You had thought it was a welcome feeling, but it did not hold a candle to the feeling you had wearing the soft and luxurious elvish fabrics. Amara had chosen the gown as you broke your fast with them in your room. It had been a while since you could speak to them and was refreshing.

“Imagine her surprise when he returned with another’s undergarment in his pocket!” Liriel had spoken. The two had been catching you up on courtly gossip. As much as you wanted to not partake in such gossip to maintain a more elevated persona, you could not help but revel in it. The scandals all lured you in. It was far more entertaining than any town square shows put on where you had lived.

As Amara tied the laces on the back of your dress, your gaze swept up to your bed. Within the pillowcases lay the scouting record and book found in Cole’s room. Thinking of it made your throat close and muscles tighten. When Amara stepped back and went to join her wife on the settee, you sucked in a breath.

“I think I’ll choose my jewellery for the day.” The underlying meaning behind your words was not lost on the two elves. You wished for a moment of solitary peace. They got up from their seats and bid you a quick goodbye.

When they had left, you made your way to the vanity. While scanning over your options, your eyes kept moving toward where the scouting log and Cole’s book were kept. Your fingers brushed over the cool metal of a necklace you found particularly pleasing and knew it would compliment the expanse of the bare neck that was exposed from the dress. You put it on and then walked to your bed.

The items were calling to you. You shakily pulled them both out from under the pillows and laid them on the plush blanket of your bed. You dragged your finger across the black cover and ruminated on the information Aegon had gathered. The whole night was spent drifting in and out of sleep. You were reeling from the information. Cole was one being you knew was not trustworthy. He was slimy and vile, but was there really enough hate in him to be a purveyor of the dark arts?

You were caught between multiple points. You wished to mourn; for your father, Lyra, and everyone else who had perished from the taint. Yet your body was pulled towards your duty as a healer and passion as a researcher to find a cure no matter the cost, regardless of your health and sanity. Then, more recently, another point had driven itself into your chest. It was a matter of a single blue eye that threatened to swallow you each time you gazed into it. The point, driven like an anchor, pushed you overboard and into murky waters; pulling you down from all those other cares to think of nothing but him alone.

The gods had been cruel, exceptionally so, to test your patience by sending such a siren call in the form of Aemond.

You once again scanned the items in front of you. There was something there. There is some underlying meaning behind the discovery of this information. It was a trickery. The scout's log showed Cole’s presence in the area and the book was damning that he was capable of some kind of evil – or at the very least an untrustworthy interest in darker things. The main cause of your distress was Aemond’s possible part to play in all of it. He and Cole were nearly inseparable, always talking to one another. There was a strong bond, one which would naturally lead to sharing information between one another.

During your thinking, a knock on the door jolted you out of it. While you normally would have made haste to hide the items, your brain had been working overtime as of late. It led to you not caring much at all anymore. You looked over your shoulder to see Aemond walking into your room. You turned your head to the bed, keeping your back facing him. You could not look at him.

Cole likely played a part in hurting – nay killing – your father; to which Aemond could have known about it.

It would suit Aemond not to tell you. The taint was a burden on both kingdoms. He could use you for your talents, recognizing that they may have made a mistake in killing your father before he could find a solution. He planned to have you make the cure, or at least get close, and then dispense you. Your kingdom would be none the wiser of such misdeeds and a conflict would be avoided. The elf kingdom could use the cure on themselves only and sit back as your people died out.

That was the ultimate goal of the Great War so many centuries ago – at least what had been taught to you.

You steeled yourself and crossed your arms to soften your emotions, “What can I do for you, your grace?” You wanted him to leave before you broke down – before you confessed all that you discovered and demanded an answer. Though you knew, it was far too late to go back. His presence alone weakened you. You were beholden to Aemond and thus unable to keep anything from him.

“I was coming to check on how you were settling back in,” Aemond answered. You wanted to scoff at his possible fake care, but at the same time fall into his arms. The supposed dichotomy between the two mocked you with similarity.

“Everything is good, my things have been unpacked.” You responded as you looked out the large windows of your room and towards the garden.

“I did not mean your things,” His footsteps sounded closer as he walked further into your room, “I meant, how are you handling everything? With Lyra…”

You sucked in a breath and held back the tears that threatened to spill. Your lungs shuddered, but you remained steadfast in your bubbling malcontent. You could sense him standing at the bottom of the three steps that led up to the loft area of your room where your bed and personal study were.

“I’m still mourning,” You then turned to face him and looked down upon his form. Seeing him, the unadulterated care in his eyes and softened face made you question your knowledge. Surely, this could not have been all a ruse? Surely he is not such a good actor as to make you fall for these falsities.

“Of course, I–” Aemond had begun, but you cut him off.

“But I’m mourning my father as well,” Aemond gave you a questionable look, as the last conversation with your father ended on the mutual understanding that he could still be alive, “I know he’s dead.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” Aemond placed one of his feet on the steps as if to walk up to you, but saw you take a step back. Your flinch looked as though it slapped him, for he took his foot off the step and moved his hands behind his back to show he was not a threat. His eye seemed to flit about your room with nervousness.

“You told me there were no reports of humans in that area in the last century and I was stupid to believe it.” Your voice was just above a whisper and cracked by the end. It was not fair to accuse him of what you were thinking, but in your grief, you made stupid decisions.

“I told you the truth of it. What would I gain by lying to you?” Aemond responded.

“A victory. My father murdered by Cole then another human to use for a cure and then dispose of when the time comes. Once done, you can protect the elven kingdom and watch mine burn, as some kind of late victory from the Great War.” It was wrong to throw that at him, so terribly wrong; especially how he had poured his heart out to you on why such a war started. However, your mind was clouded with mismatched pieces of evidence that you struggled to string together coherently.

A shift was made in Aemond’s continence, “You think this is some plot to destroy your kingdom? You accuse my good friend and ally of murder?”

“That day in the forest, when you saved me, you told me that every little thing is out to kill.” It felt so long since that day, but truly only a month ago. The way his sword was aimed at your neck came back into your mind, vivid and clear. He had only spared you, just slightly, and you were supposed to be thankful for it. Like not killing you was a gift. Perhaps, he should have just done the job and been rid of you. Now, the same look you gave him after such a threat was directed at you; confusion, shock, and a little bit of fear from Aemond.

“There were plenty of times in which I could have killed you, but I didn’t. Now I know you are angry and confused but…” He paused and backed up, his eye darting around to not look at you, “I revealed parts of myself to you that…” His voice got caught in his throat.

“Words said in heat are often more destructive than battles.” It was a whisper, as if he was recalling it from a deep memory from his past. His hands tightened into fists and he leaned on the balls of his feet, “I have told you the truth as you are my friend. Let us not fight when tensions are high. We shall talk later.”

You wanted to scream at him, to lug one of the pillows on your bed directly at his head. How could he be so reasonable? Gods, why was he so reasonable? You wanted confrontation. With it, you could get answers. However, all Aemond did was look at you. His face held traces of grief but still had pieces of reverence. It was heavy, the way he gazed upon you with such fondness and an equal amount of intense emotional pain.

Aemond nodded before swiftly turning to exit your room. His hair swerved with him. The sound of the door closing, bordering on a slam, was what broke you. Tears escaped your eyes and you had to hold up your body on the bed from collapsing.

Clarity instantly washed over you in one giant wave. Aemond had been nothing but forthright with you – especially since he revealed the origin of his scar. He was rude at first, but there was a perfectly clear reason why. Yet, you had taken that and thrown it in his face. The wave of clarity that washed over you swept back into the ocean of your emotions, leaving behind a shell in the sand of your mind.

The shell shined and held a simple truth within it. The answer to the one burning question that was always piqued when Aemond would look or talk to you. It always bugged you, that you could not find a reason why your heart would beat quicker and heat would wash over your face.

You were falling in love.

It was not what you expected. All your life, a simple path had been laid in your mind. Meet someone, gradually come to like them, and then eventually build the foundations of love. It would be calm and come slowly. There would be time to adjust to it. The motions of the ocean would gently lick at your feet as the tide rose over time.

Yet, Aemond came and built up a storm; water eroding rock and pummeling the sand. While violent, his storm would never harm you, but you had just harmed him. You could not say you were in love, but there was no denying that it had begun to wrap you in its embrace.

You shoved the items back under your pillow haphazardly and then moved quickly down the steps and toward your door. You needed to get out of that room – to get away from what just happened. You shakily walked down the dark stone hallways of the castle and towards the laboratory.

Here, you could think clearly and devise a plan to apologize to Aemond.

You walked to the main study desk and rested your hands against the worn wood. You looked out at all of the items and ingredients laid on the surface, including some of the recent samples you collected from Lake Rosemagne.

While looking at the ingredients that composed all your recent experiments, including the one that successfully halted the taint, all you could think about was what the book found in Cole’s room and the scouting record. Images of the pages moved across your vision when you had flipped through it. The page you had stopped on with the mortua terra flower and a crude sketch of Lake Rosemagne settled in you.

Your eyes squinted as you took in all the items in front of you. There was a scratching at the back of your brain; an itch that got worse and worse. It was there, like the forgotten phrase on the tip of one’s tongue. There was an answer clawing at you through a murky haze. Your gaze moved from the vials of lakewater that were collected, then moved to the mortua terra flower, and then it drifted towards another table in the laboratory.

In a small vase was the elf azure flower. It had been your preferred perfume scent when you came to this kingdom. There was always a vase full of them in the lab, you had made sure of it. You had noticed them growing in the forest when you came back from a short trip out to your home with Aemond. His words came to mind when you glanced at the budding flowers.

Giēñagon syt se gīs.

Cure for the soul.

That was the elf superstition. Yet, wisdom oft comes from superstitious knowledge that had been passed down for longer than earth's memory. Like a shot arrow, an idea hit you like never before in your life.

Of course.

Of course, it makes so much sense.

You had been correct in assuming that a cure would need two big components that cancel one another out. At first, it was the poison against poison, which only lasted for a few seconds. Then you tried using dark magic against itself, which halted the spread of the taint in both plant and body but was not a definite cure. What if you used another arena to fight in? Instead of using the infected host as a fighting ground for the potion to act against, would it not be worth it to have the fight be in the potion itself?

The mortua terra plant against the elf azure flower. The mortua terra was a symbol of death, but the elf azure meant light.

In Cole’s book, you saw a drawing of what looked like the outline of Lake Rosemagne with the mortua terra flower and a myriad of weird symbols and sketches. If you used the lake water as a base – for it is believed to have balancing powers – it would have to make some form of an impact as they were on opposite sides of the magic spectrum.

This was truly a new frontier for you, but you were determined to follow it through. You wasted no time in expertly assembling all of the ingredients you would need. Your hand grabbed a nearby stick to transfer the flame from one of the torches on the wall. You lit up the bottom portion of a holder for one of the empty cauldrons. Then you took a sample of water from Lake Rosemange and brought it to a calm simmer.

You followed out with the rest of the ingredients that made the complete base for your last experiments that had been tweaked by Daeron to be stronger. The whole time, your hands had been shaking slightly and you had to take a few breaks to calm down. This morning and the day prior had been a whirlwind of emotions. They compounded in you, but you swallowed it all down to do your work. This was not a brew you wanted to mess up.

The last step was the two flowers. You put on gloves to handle the mortua terra and plucked a few of the petals off of it, which gleaned a light purple in the dull torchlight.

Just as you were going to place them in the brew, the door to the laboratory opened. Your back was to it, but you could tell that this time in the mourning was around when Daeron would start his day and assumed he had come in.

“I’ve just had the biggest epiphany. It was all wrong, well, it was all correct as well. It's hard to explain, but I think using the water from Lake Rosemagne in combination with mortua terra and elf azure has the possibility of making real change,” You received no response, but truly it did not bother you. So much of your attention and energy was going into this.

When the silence dragged on, you continued, “This just might work, Daeron. Gods, what if it does?” You plopped the dark petals in the water and went to reach for the azure. After, you would need to cut your hand.

“I did not think you would figure it out so quickly.” It was not Daeron’s voice, but a deeper, more venomous one. You halted in your ministrations and turned around. There Cole stood with a look of wroth in his eyes. In his hands was his tome and a copy of the scouting papers. He had been in your room and you could not help but wonder just how often he had done that before.

He held up the items, “You think I'm stupid enough to not notice these went missing?”

You swallowed hard and backed against the desk. There was no other means of escape for you except the other door on the other side of the room that led to the sick hall. However, its distance was just far enough that if Cole were to run he would get you before you could even call for help.

“You said it, not I.” You spoke. There were a million scenarios that came into your head. Ways he would kill you, possibly knock you out to take you away and torture you. There was no happy ending – not even a tame one. His actions confirmed an underlying suspicion of yours. He not only was dabbling in the dark arts but had something to do with the taint.

“You think you’re funny?” He stepped forward.

“From time to time, I do have some good quips. What the hell were you doing in my room?” You confronted. On the inside, you were quaking like a leaf, but you could not show it. Cole would not see your fear.

“I could ask you the same thing. This book was in my room.” Cole responded. You could not out Aegon as your accomplice, you could not stomach putting him at risk any more than he was for helping you. This was your burden, not his. He was only being a good friend.

“What are you doing with a personal journal on dark magic?” You hit him back with that one. His gaze darkened and he dropped his held-up arm with the items still clutched feverishly.

“I’ve told you before, humans should stop trifling in matters that do not concern them. Bad things can befall such… unsuspecting souls.” You could not tell what it was, but there was some underlying meaning beneath his words; a sick joke embedded in his malcontent.

You were in danger. You could feel the imminent dread claw its way through your body. In the corner of your eye, there was a wooden box on the table that held a bunch of loose-leaf pieces of parchment, ink bottles, and quills. You and Daeron shared similar scattered minds and often needed to quickly jot things down and could not wait to find your journals lest the idea slipped from your mind.

If you could grab that and throw it at him, it may give you enough time to run to the door and get away or at the very least scream for help in an area that may be heard. He seemed to catch on to your wandering eye and clue together what you were thinking.

In a split second, he dropped the items to run to you, but by then you had grabbed the box and thrown it at his face. The ink and flying parchment temporarily blinded him and you made for the door to the sick hall.

After just a step, searing pain hit your side. You stumbled and stopped running, the air in your lungs having been knocked out by the force. You felt a weird mix of pain and numbness. Looking down, you could see the hilt of a dagger poking out from your side. Your shaking hands reached down to feel the escaping blood. You looked back up to see Cole with a curled sneer as he observed you.

Cole moved forward. You barely stumbled back by the time he used one hand to grip your throat and hold you in place while the other went to grasp the knife’s handle.

“Your kind lives for so little, yet take so much.” He drove the knife further into you which caused you to cough violently at the intense anguish. Cole released his hold and you dropped to the ground among the strewn-out mess you made. All you could do was sob out, every ability to move your body had stopped.

He kneeled to be in your vision, “You will bleed out, just like your father.”

Ice washed over you. He not only played a part in the creation of the taint, but he had murdered your father. Likely because he had been near Lake Rosemagne – one of the vital ingredients in the cure. It made you feel sick that he died simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A genius who strived to make a difference by helping people had been killed by a coward.

“You fucking bastard,” You coughed out. You made a futile attempt to move towards him, possibly hitting him, but it was difficult to even move.

“Ah, but at least I’ll live. As an added benefit, it's laced with the taint.” Cole taunted. As if stabbing you was not enough, he had put some of the taint on it to be sure you would die. There was no limit nor measure of hate this elf would not cross.

Another thought came to you. Aemond had been telling the truth and had no clue about your father's murder. Most of all, he had no inkling to Cole’s misdeeds. The closest member of his council was seeking to kill the world for reasons unknown to you.

He will never know, you thought. This was it. You were dying. Cole pulled out the knife that had been stopping most of the blood flow. He then stood up and made his way to the exit, giving you no more words.

The fucking coward could not even see it through before leaving the scene.

You needed to warn Aemond and everyone else. You needed to pass on the idea for the cure. As much as you wanted to get Cole for what he had done to your father, that held little importance when compared to the rest of the realm. Your hand waved around the floor to find a quill. You scrambled for some parchment and dragged the tip of the quill through a blot of spilled ink. Your hands could not still, but you wrote with a frantic nature as you bled out on the ground. There would be no time to write out a step-by-step guide, but some hints would do.

Mother’s flower,

Lake water,

Every little thing,

You hoped it would be understood by Aemond. You could not risk outright writing that Cole was a traitor for fear that he would see it and immediately hide the evidence. With this, at least there was a chance. The flower that Aemond’s mother adored, the azure, in combination with the lake water was the key additives to the previous experiment. The final line was more personalized, hinting at the words of advice he had given you – aimed at exposing Cole. Your vision became darker as spots clouded it.

He would piece it together, you knew he would.

You turned around to lay on your back and stretched out your arms. The parchment you had written in was clutched in your hand. You closed your eyes and waited. This was not how you ever thought you would go out. Like many, you had hoped it would happen at the end of a long and satisfying life in which you went to sleep and never woke up.

You were too young for this, but alas, Lyra was also young and your father was too kind for the deaths they faced.

Nothing was ever fair. You took in one last breath; a slow inhale where you could smell the floral scent of the azure flowers that filled the room. Shortly after, you exhaled your last breath. With it, your consciousness fled.

Chapter 17: The Winds of War Preview

Again, that was not unusual. However, when he knocked again with a little more force to make sure he was heard, Aemond was surprised by the slow creaking it made as it opened. It was ajar, which was unusual. His fingers gripped the handle and he pushed it open. His gaze was lowered and noticed the strewn about papers at first. His brow furrowed as he scanned the area further until…

Gods no…

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 20 hours ago

Text

Between the Lines - Professor!Ari Levinson x Librarian!Reader

A/N: Massive shout out to @precious1610 who essentially was my co-author for this oneshot, you came up with some brilliant lines and ideas for this and I can't thank you enough!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Fluff! Professor Ari (he needs a warning because damn)! Sexual Harassment and Assult (not by Ari!)! Language! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Between the Lines

You always looked forward to the new academic year. After weeks of the campus being quiet with only researching staff around, the liveliness of the new and returning cohorts of students always brought the campus back to life.

Another reason you enjoyed the new academic year was that Professor Levinson would be back. He often spent most of his summer in various different countries volunteering at refugee camps, providing aid during humanitarian crises.

You’d look forward to the stories of his days off, the people he’d met and the landmarks he'd seen. He’d often bring back a little souvenir for you too, last time it was a pair of velvet slippers because ‘the library can get cold’ he said.

You missed him dearly over the summer break, which was somewhat ridiculous because he was just the professor that you had a helpless crush on. At least the gifts he brought you said he thought of you at least for just a moment while he was away.

Even if it was a hopeless crush that didn’t stop you from putting in a bit more effort on Thursdays. The day he’d always come in after lunchtime to return any books and take out more for the next week's lectures.

You were sat at your desk, scanning through the returned books when he finally walked in. You couldn’t help but smile when he walked over, he looked incredible in his blue sweater and brown suit. The look completed with a pair of glasses which were a recent addition over the last year. It was no surprise almost every girl on campus had a thing for him. His international politics class was one of the most popular.

“Hi, did you have a nice summer?” He asked as he reached your desk.

“Very good, how was yours?” You smiled up at him.

“Rewarding” he smiled before nodding down to your book “How many of those did you read?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks “Lots” you admitted with a bashful smile “lots of free time during the summer break, while you were travelling the world I was travelling the universe”

Ari gave you a lopsided smile “Sounds incredible, speaking of travelling” he reached into his pocket “I got you a little something” he held out a tiny pouch.

“Professor Levinson you didn’t have to” your voice soft as you took the small pouch.

“I’ve told you many times to call me Ari” he reminded you “and I wanted to”

You smiled as you opened up the pouch and gently tipped out its contents, a small silver token falling out into your palm.

“It’s a medallion that wards off evil” Ari explained as he leaned against your desk with a lopsided smile.

“It’s incredible, there’s so much detail” you muttered in amazement, admiring the small medallion.

“I thought you could use it to ward off people who talk too loud or eat loud snacks” Ari smirked making you chuckle.

“I love it thank you” You smiled, if you could you’d get up and cup his cheek and kiss him, you’d just have to settle with your imagination.

“It’s nothing, anything for my favourite librarian” he winked “Need a hand putting any of these away?” he nodded over to the large collection of returned books.

“I think a few of these are top-shelf books,” you said pointing to the trolley to which you had been adding books too.

“On it” Ari smiled, moving to grab the trolley.

“Thank you Ari” you said as you got up to follow him.

“Do you not trust me to put them back in the right places?” he smirked over his shoulder at you as you both walked through the bookcases.

“no…I trust you” you said slowly.

Ari snorted “That means no” he chuckled “After all the times I’ve helped you do this, you’d think you’d trust me by now”

“I do trust you” you laughed “I just…” you trailed off trying to find a reason you could actually say out loud. In truth, you just wanted to make the most of any time together.

“You’re just protective of your library, I get it” Ari smiled reassuringly as he lifted a heavy book onto the top shelf.

“Yes… protective” you muttered unable to take your eyes off his biceps, even underneath the suit you could see how impressive they were.

Ari smiled back at you breaking you from your trance. You cleared your throat before grabbing a book from the trolley and turning to put it away, subtly fanning yourself as you did so.

For the next half an hour Ari helped you put the books back on the shelves, he even reorganised an entire shelf when you complained that it was all out of order. You were just walking back to the desk when Ari paused and turned to face you.

“What are you doing Saturday afternoon?” He asked.

“Oh um, nothing I think” you stuttered trying to recall if you had any plans, which was pretty pointless because you rarely did.

“How about we go grab coffee?” He suggested a lopsided smile on his face.

“What like a-“ you squeaked blinking in surprise.

Ari grinned “Yes like a date” he finished for you.

You couldn’t stop stuttering, your mind short-circuiting as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Did a book fall on my head” you muttered to yourself, only realising you’d done so when Ari barked out a loud laugh “Shhh” you chastised on instinct.

Ari covered his mouth with his hand, delight clear in his eyes as he continued to laugh but quietly this time. You covered your face with your hands feeling utterly embarrassed at your outburst.

“Oh god,” you groaned quietly.

Ari chuckled as he wrapped his hands around your wrists and pulled your hands from your face, his smile widening when he saw you were pouting. He shifted his hold on your wrists so he was holding your hands, his thumbs stroking your palms.

“No you haven’t hit your head, this is really happening,” he said softly “is that really so hard to believe?”

You quietly scoffed “Yes, I mean you’re you and I’m me” you admitted shaking your head.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said before leaning in to whisper “If you weren’t you, I wouldn’t be asking you out”

“Ari” you whispered in disbelief.

“And if you’ll join me for coffee I’ll tell you all the other reasons I’ve wanted to ask you out” he grinned.

You smiled bashfully, looking down at the floor “If I say yes, will you tell me one of the reasons now?” You asked looking back up at him.

Ari smirked “That pencil skirt and those knee-high boots to start” he said nodding down to your boots “So is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes” you grinned.

“Great” he smiled leaning in to kiss your cheek “I have to go teach now but I’ll see you Saturday”

“See you Saturday” you smiled watching him go.

You were frozen to the spot for a few moments still not entirely convinced that he’d actually asked you out and your crush wasn’t so hopeless. You eventually managed to get back to your desk, a smile on your face as you got back to work.

It was about an hour later when a shadow covered you. You were excited thinking that Ari had come back to talk to you again after his lecture but your smile faltered when you saw who it was.

“Hey sunshine,” Coach Hansen said as he leaned against the desk, lollipop in his mouth “How was your summer?”

“Nice,” you said forcing a smile “How about you Coach Hansen?” You asked to be polite.

“Call my Lloyd” he grinned “great, looking forward to the season, you’ll come and watch the games right? You can be my good luck charm” he winked.

You tried your hardest not to shudder in disgust “Oh um I’m not sure I’ll have to check my diary, I think I’m usually busy on game days” you lied.

“I’m sure I could convince you to find the time” he grinned leaning in closer.

You laughed awkwardly as you pushed your chair back and stood up to try and put some distance between the two of you “Guess we’ll see” you chuckled “Um do excuse me but I have some repairs to do in the office, you’d think college students would know how to treat books” you said stepping away “see you around” you added as you slipped into your office, shut and locked the door behind you.

You leaned against the door and let out the shudder that you had been holding in. Coach Hansen was the most disgusting man you’d ever met, Assistant Coach Pete Brennan coming in a close second. You’d heard rumours that Hansen had slept with multiple cheerleaders throughout the years. Why some of the most popular girls would sleep with him was beyond you.

You grabbed the hand sanitiser that was on your desk, squeezing a decent amount onto your hands. Lloyd hadn’t touched you but it made you feel cleaner. Just an encounter with Lloyd made you feel gross.

You sat down at your desk with a heavy sigh, it had been a rollercoaster of a day. But on the plus side, you had a date with Ari. The thought of that alone was enough to bring a smile back to your face. You had to think about what to wear, something that went well with your boots you thought.

It had been a couple of weeks since his date with you and Ari felt incredible. He hadn’t realised his feelings for you until the summer. He’d been walking through the market with one of his volunteer friends, Sam, he’d just found the small medallion when Sam snorted and shook his head.

“For your librarian friend?” Sam had chuckled.

“She would love it” Ari explained as he paid for it.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Sam asked as they walked to the next stall.

Ari frowned “No, she’s a friend” he’d said even if it felt wrong to call you just a friend.

Sam had laughed and shook his head “Who knew a college professor could be so stupid” he said as he walked away leaving Ari dumbfounded.

For the rest of the day, Ari had replayed that conversation before he finally came to the realisation that he had feelings for you. That he’d had feelings for you for a while now. If he wasn’t halfway across the world he would have gone straight to you and asked you out.

He was so glad you’d said yes, he’d found it so adorable how flustered you got. You were a little flustered on the date but Ari made sure to put you at ease and soon enough the side he absolutely loved about you. The sweet and a little cheeky side.

His favourite part was when you both left the coffee shop. It had been unseasonably cold for a September afternoon and he could see you shivering. So he took off the blue jacket he wore and draped it over your shoulders. You smiled up at him, the jacket almost swallowing you up as you wrapped it around yourself more. It was the cutest sight ever.

He now found any opportunity to visit you in the library. When he walked in you weren’t at the front desk, he checked your office but you weren’t in there either. He noticed that the book return trolley was missing meaning you were out putting books back on shelves.

He started walking through the library trying to find you. He eventually found you in a far corner, his blood boiling at the sight. You had your back pressed against the bookcase as the sleazeball Coach Hansen crowded against you. Ari couldn’t instantly see how uncomfortable you were even though you were forcing a smile.

He cleared his throat loudly to interrupt. Lloyd looked over and rose to his full height allowing you to sidestep away from him.

“Professor Levinson” Lloyd greeted him with a lopsided smirk.

“Coach Hansen, are you lost? The picture books are at the public library across town, I think they have sticker books too” Ari said as he walked over, fists clenched down by his sides, he then turned his attention to you “Are the books I requested ready to collect, I need them for my lecture in half an hour” he didn’t have any more lectures today, he knew you’d know that and hopefully took the out he was giving you.

You blinked a couple of times “Oh, not quite I’ll um go get the last of them now” you muttered before shuffling past him and back towards the front desk.

“I think you have somewhere else to be don’t you Coach Hansen?” He asked turning his attention back to the sleaze ball.

Lloyd ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied Ari “Somewhere more interesting that’s for sure” he said before turning and leaving.

Ari followed behind him just to make sure that Lloyd actually left the library. You weren’t at the front desk but he spotted you peaking through the blinds in your office.

Once he was satisfied that Lloyd had gone he walked over to the office door and gently rapped his knuckles against the wood. He pushed the door open slowly when he heard you answer. He found you perched on the edge of your desk rubbing your hands, the faint smell of hand sanitiser lingering in the air.

He closed the distance between you, his hand moving to brush hair out of your face and cup your cheek but he stopped himself short. You might not want anyone to touch you right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked softly.

You took in a deep breath before nodding as you breathed back out “Fine, just feel a little grossed out, nothing out of the ordinary” you admitted.

Ari’s brows furrowed “This has happened before?”

You gave him a weak shrug of your shoulders “Kinda, usually, I’m at the front desk so I have that barrier” you said gesturing in front of you “Today was the first time he’s found me between the cases”

Ari shook his head in disbelief “Why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you tell him to back off?”

You scoffed and stepped away from him, crossing your arms as you moved to the far corner of the office. When you turned back to face him you hit him with a hard look.

“Seriously? That’s the worst thing I could do with a man like him, you think he’ll take my no as an answer?” You scoffed “The safest thing I can do is be nice and polite and hope to god that nothing happens, that he gets bored and moves on” you exclaimed gesturing with a clenched fist towards the door “And if he doesn’t I just have to pray that I can find not only the ability to fight back but win… and I know it’s wrong but that’s just reality!”

Silence fell in the room. Ari stood there and watched as you breathed heavily. He’d fucked up and he knew that, even if part of him was pretty impressed at how you put him in his place.

“You’re right, I’m sorry” he apologised holding his hands up in surrender as he took a couple of steps closer “That was very male of me to say that” he added with the smallest of smirks.

You pursed your lips before letting out a small chuckle “Yes it was”

Ari smiled softly as he walked closer to you again “I’m sorry, I’m sorry this is the reality you have to live in” he said before his brows furrowed in concern “You’ve never felt like that with me have you?”

You quickly shook your head, stepping closer to close the distance your hands resting on his biceps “No, god no” you told him “You’ve never made me uncomfortable”

“Good, and if I ever do just put me back in my place like you just did” he smirked.

You bit your lower lip “I’m sorry” you said with a slight wince.

“No don’t apologise, it was actually kinda sexy” Ari whispered as he leant in

Your smile turned bashful as you looked up at him. He smiled back down at you as he moved to cup your cheeks with both hands, his thumb gently stroking the apples of your cheeks. Your head tilted into his touch, your eyes shining as you looked up at him.

“How do you feel now?” he asked softly.

“Much better thank you”

“Good, and I promise nothing like that is gonna happen again, I’ll make sure of it” he swore “I’ll be here when you finish tonight to walk you to your car and text me if he comes back before then”

“Okay I will, thank you Ari,” you said with a grateful sigh.

“It's nothing, sweetheart” he smiled before leaning down to capture your lips in his.

He started gently just to make sure you were okay with it but as soon he felt you melt into his touch he let go of his restraint and deepened the kiss. From the moment he finally got to kiss you on your first coffee date he knew he was a goner. With every kiss since, every time he got to hold you, be close with you he fell harder and deeper for you.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever but he had something he needed to do “I have office hours soon so I need to head off” he said softly as he rested his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay, I’ll see you later” you smiled, running your hands over his biceps.

“See you later” he smiled, pecking your lips once more before making his way out of your office.

When he stepped out of the library instead of turning towards his building, he turned in the opposite direction. Towards the football field and training facilities. He found Lloyd in his office talking to his assistant coach, Pete Brenner, lollipop in his mouth as he chuckled.

“Professor Levinson” Lloyd smirked when Ari walked in “Are you a little lost?” he asked with a condescending tone, throwing Ari’s words back at him.

Ari instantly saw red. He surged forward, pinning Lloyd to the nearest wall, fist gripping the mustard polo collar Hansen wore.

“What the shit!” Pete exclaimed, shooting up from his seat, while Lloyd just laughed.

“Sit” Ari hissed over his shoulder at Pete who instantly did what he said like an obedient dog.

“It’s cool Brenner” Lloyd smirked “Let him have his moment”

Ari growled in response, shoving him back against the wall again “Don’t push me”

Lloyds just laughed “Oh c’mon pumpkin,” he said shaking his head “What are you gonna do? Strangle me with boredom? Talk me to death? You academic lot are so funny” he tilted his head with a condescending look.

“You go near her again and you’ll find out exactly what I can do to you” Ari warned.

“Aw, you got a little crush on my little librarian?” Lloyd grinned.

Ari shifted his grip, his fingers wrapping around Lloyd's throat. Lloyd only looked more excited, a wolfish grin growing.

“She’s not your property and never will be” Ari said, squeezing his grip slightly for good measure.

Lloyd didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes studying Ari “Warning taken” he finally said.

Ari wasn’t entirely convinced but took a couple of steps back, letting go of Lloyd. Lloyd shrugged and straightened out his polo before regarding Ari with a look.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked “trying to cause more of a scene? I don’t think Y/N would like that”

Ari clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch Lloyd right there and then but the sick bastard was right. If you knew Ari had caused this scene you would hate it. You probably wouldn’t want to see him anymore and he’d lose the best thing he’s ever had.

“Stay away from her” he reiterated harshly, pointing over to Lloyd who held his hands up in surrender a smirk playing on his lips.

Ari turned, shooting a glare at Pete who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He stormed out of the office, the door slamming so hard that it rattled behind him.

The past couple of months had been the best of your life and it was all thanks to Ari. As the weather got colder you got excited to celebrate the holiday season with him. You’d already had a lot of fun with him at Halloween and Thanksgiving, he’d dressed up as Indiana Jones and you went as Marion. He looked incredible as Indy, you really had to try hard to keep your hands to yourself at the faculty party. You did have a lot of fun with the whip afterwards though.

Much to your relief too, Lloyd had kept away from the library and you. That short interaction between him and Ari in the library had clearly sent enough of a message that you were taken.

Ari had been the sweetest too, he’d meet you whenever you finished work to walk you to your car or pick you up to take you back to his place. He visited the library more and helped out whenever he could. You joked that you should get him an assistant librarian badge.

It was Friday evening and you were working late. A large delivery had arrived ready for the new semester in January and you wanted to get them all sorted before the Christmas break. Ari had agreed to help out, bringing snacks and keeping you company.

It was taking a little longer than you expected because you kept getting distracted by Ari. he was wearing a deep green button-up sweater which hugged his arms deliciously, especially when pushed the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’d definitely caught you checking him out if the smirk on his lips was anything to go by. But when he’d lift heavy books up onto the top shelves you couldn’t help but stare, you were only human after all.

You shook your head to try and clear it so you could focus on the job at hand. You turned away from him and crouched down to put away some books on the lower shelves. When you stood back up you were surprised to find Ari stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips.

“Ari” you muttered as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“Y/N” he smirked as he pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel that it wasn’t just you who was getting distracted.

“Ari” you sighed as you melted back onto him “We can’t, not here” you muttered as he continued to kiss your neck, one hand moving up to your breast.

“Sure we can” he murmured “It's late, no one else is here”

You could feel your resolve weakening “We should at least go to my office then” you suggested.

“No we don’t” he smirked as his other hand moved from your hip to your covered core, tugging you back towards him “This sort of thing is in the books you read and I know how much you love them”

You blinked a couple of times in surprise as you turned around to face him “How did you know that?”

Ari gives you a lopsided grin “I’ve read them” he answered.

“You read them” you repeated in disbelief.

“Of course, they’re something you love” he explained with a casual shrug of his shoulders “I want to know as much as I can about you… get some ideas… make sure you’re satisfied” he smirked.

“Ari,” you said softly, shaking your head in disbelief, you couldn’t believe how incredible he was.

“So what do you say?” he smirked, “are you gonna let me worship you in your temple?”

You nibbled your lower lip and nodded, you could never say no to him.

“Good, now make sure you stay quiet” he smirked as he sunk down to his knees “We are in a library after all”

You let out a shuddered breath of anticipation when his hands slipped under your skirt to pull down your underwear. Once he tucked them into his back pocket his hand wrapped around the back of your knee and lifted it. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin just above your knee-high boots. He hooked your leg over his shoulder as he pressed kisses up your thighs, his head disappearing underneath your skirt.

You cupped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself when his lips finally found your core, his quiet moan vibrating against you when he discovered how wet you were for him already. Your other hand found the back of his head, your fingers weaving through his long, soft locks.

His beard scratched against your thighs as he feasted. He knew your body so well now that not even the perfect world of fiction could compare. He made your legs so weak that if he wasn’t propping you up, you’d be on the floor.

The feeling of him between your legs was like heaven, especially when he’d tease your clit. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, you also wanted him inside you, and you wanted to reach your peak.

“Ari” you whimpered, your fingers gripping his hair tightly.

You felt him smirk against you before diving back in. Except this time his lips wrapped around your clit and he slipped two thick fingers inside you. You had to bite your fist to stop yourself from screaming, especially when his fingers curled against that golden spot and fireworks exploded as you hit your peak.

Ari worked you through the waves of your orgasm, prolonging to the point that the entire world melted away. You hadn’t even noticed him rising to his full height until he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply, the taste of you on his lips.

“You’re doing so well keeping quiet” he murmured against your lips.

The kiss brought you back to life, energy surging through like electricity. Your hands quickly found his belt buckle and pushed down his deep green trousers enough to free him. You wrapped your fingers around him and pumped him a couple of times. Just the weight and feel of him in your hands made your core ache for him.

It was like Ari had read your mind because he hooked his hands under your thighs at the same time that you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to climb him like a tree. You buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your moan when he entered you.

Neither of you moved once he was fully seated inside you. You only breathed deeply as you took in the feeling of him filling you up completely. It was a feeling you never wanted to get used to and one you hoped you’d always have.

Soon enough you felt the overwhelming urge for movement, you turned your head to press kisses to his neck just below the ear “Move” you whispered pleadingly.

Ari chuckled softly “Anything for you” he said before thrusting up into you.

He started slowly but soon worked up to a fiercer pace. You clung onto him tightly, rolling your hips to meet his. You bit your lower lip to hold back your loud moan but you couldn’t stop the small gasps that escaped. It would be impossible for anyone to be silent when with Ari.

Your head tilted back against the bookcase, which Ari took advantage of as he pressed wet kisses to your neck and collarbone. You felt and heard books tumble to the floor but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care about anything except how great you felt.

You could feel your orgasm building and before you could even say anything it crashed over you and you couldn’t even think let alone speak. It felt like you ascended to a whole new plane of existence, Ari joining you shortly after as he hit his own peak.

Ari held you close as you came down from your mind-blowing high. His large hand cradled the back of your head as you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck.

“Can you stand?” Ari asked softly after a few moments.

You nodded “I think so” you muttered, still catching your breath.

Ari gave you a lopsided smile before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He held onto you as he pulled out of you, a whimper falling from your lips at the emptiness. You leant back against the bookcase, feeling his spend slowly spreading down your thighs.

You watched as Ari picked up the fallen books with his clean hand and returned them to the nearby trolley to be reorganised later. When he returned to you he slipped his other hand back under your skirt. He smirked down at you as he collected the combined juices of your and his release, spreading it back up to your core.

“Let’s get you back to your office to get cleaned up” he murmured as he kissed you.

A couple of hours later you and Ari called it a night. There were still lots of books to sort through but you were both tired and just wanted to head back to his place to relax.

You were walking into the parking lot when Ari paused and cursed under his breath “I forgot to grab something from my office” he muttered glancing over his shoulder in the direction of his building.

“That’s fine,” you said wrapping your jacket around your tighter, it was a pretty cold December night, as you turned to go with him.

“It’s fine, you go get in the car,” he said passing you the keys “Get the heater going and lock the doors, I won’t be long” he promised.

“Okay see you in a second” you said as you started to make your way towards the car. Ari jogged off in the opposite direction towards his office.

Ari had parked under a street lamp but it was barely working. Flicking on and off periodically. You weren’t worried about it though, Ari had already seen to the campus sleaze.

You reached the car with no problem but as you reached for the handle you heard someone and your blood ran cold.

“Hey sugarplum what you doing out so late?” Lloyd said.

You quickly turned around to find him stood much closer than you thought. It was like he materialised out of the shadows and just the mere thought of him had summoned him like a demon.

“Large delivery, but heading home now,” you said gesturing to the car behind you.

“So soon? I’ve not seen you around in a while, maybe we should catch up” he smiled as he closed the distance between you, backing you against the car.

“Oh um well it’s late, uh maybe another time? I’m pretty tired” you stuttered as you leaned back to create some distance.

An evil smirk grew on his face “Tired or bored? I bet you’re bored to tears hanging out with that dull professor” he said “but don’t you worry, I can show you a good time”

His hands gripped your hips and you stopped breathing. Ari had kept hold of your underwear after cleaning you up, it was something that excited you at the time but now you regretted it. You didn’t want to think what Lloyd would do if he discovered you weren’t wearing underwear.

“Oh no thanks, I’m very happy as I am,” you said, your voice wobbling.

Lloyd smirked as he leant in to whisper in your ear “I don’t think that’s true”

Your entire body froze, eyes screwed shut when he pressed a disgustingly wet kiss below your ear. You whimpered but he just took that as a sign to carry on. He gripped you tighter, forcing his growing bulge against your stomach and kept kissing your neck.

“You like that now don’t-“ he started but he didn’t finish as suddenly he was gone.

You opened your eyes to discover Lloyd on the floor, Ari stood between the two of you “I told you to stay away” Ari growled, his fists clenched down by his sides.

Lloyd just laughed as he pushed himself to his feet “Please, she doesn’t want you, she wants me even if she doesn’t know it yet, I can read between the lines” he said before glancing around Ari to look at you “isn’t that right sugarplum?”

Ari snapped and surged forward, his fist connecting with Lloyd’s jaw. Lloyd stumbled back, the smirk disappearing and replaced by fury as Lloyd swung back and punched Ari.

You gasped in shock, hands covering your mouth as the two men brawled in front of you. It was a blur of punches and for a moment you couldn’t work out who was winning. This was a side of Ari you had never seen before. To your relief Ari got the upper hand, landing a hard punch to the side of Lloyd’s head causing him to stumble. Ari took advantage of his disorientation and grabbed his shoulders and threw him to the floor, pinning him down and shoving Lloyd’s face into the asphalt.

At that exact moment campus security finally appeared and rushed over “What’s going on here?” One of them demanded.

“Coach Hansen was sexually assaulting Miss Y/L/N“ Ari said keeping Lloyd pinned down even though he wasn’t fighting anymore.

“Is that correct miss?” The security guard said, you tore your eyes away from Ari and Lloyd and looked over to the guards, barely being able to bring yourself to nod in response “Okay, we’ll take it from here” he said.

Ari finally climbed off of Lloyd to let the security cuff him and pull him to his feet. You gasped quietly when you saw just how beaten and bloodied he was, how much Ari had beaten the crap out of him.

“Would you like us to report this to the police on your behalf?” The other guard asked you.

“I uh yes please” you muttered weakly.

“We’ll be in my office when they arrive” Ari told them before finally turning to face you.

Your heart stopped for a moment when you saw his split lip and brow. He didn’t look as bad as Lloyd but it was still difficult to see.

“Let’s go sweetheart” he said softly as he wrapped his arm around you to guide you away from Lloyd and to his office.

The entire walk to your office all you could hear was buzzing in your ears, your entire body felt numb. You hadn’t even realised you were in his office until he sat you down in his brown leather office chair. You blinked a couple of times and looked over at him as grabbed a first aid box from the far corner.

The sudden urge to take care of him took precedence over how you were feeling “Let me” you said standing up and taking the kit from him.

“Sweetheart-“ Ari protested.

“Ari please” you pleaded.

You needed this right now, you needed to look after him, you needed the distraction.

“Okay” he relented softly, he moved to perch on the edge of his desk.

You grabbed what you needed before standing in between his legs to clean up his cuts. He didn’t even wince as you did so, he just looked defeated as he watched you work.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly drawing your eyes to his.

You took a deep breath “I don’t know” you admitted.

Ari sighed “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I just saw him crowding you and I-I snapped” he apologised.

“No, don’t apologise I’m glad you did that, if you hadn’t been there I…” you trailed off, you didn’t need to think too hard about what would have happened.

“It’s my fault I shouldn’t have left you alone, I should have known that he wouldn’t have left you alone after I-“ he said before silencing himself.

“After you what?” You asked, brows furrowing.

“Threatened him and told him to stay away” he sighed dropping his head.

“Ari” you muttered in disbelief.

“I know it’s stupid I know but after I caught him in the library and saw how upset it made you I knew I had to say and do something,” he said shaking his head “Nobody gets away with making the people I love uncom-“

“Love?” You interrupted, your jaw dropping in shock.

The corners of his lips twitch upwards “Yeah” he said softly “it may have taken me far too long to realise my feelings for you but once I did I fell hard. I love you Y/N”

You let out a watery chuckle and smiled at him “I love you too” you said pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Ari smiled into the kiss as he cupped the back of your head to keep you there “How do you feel now?” He asked after a moment.

“Better” you smiled softly “I know I probably haven’t processed what happened yet and I don’t know how I’ll feel when I do” you sighed “but I know I have you so that doesn’t scare me”

“Good, and I’ll be right there beside you I won’t let anything like this happen again” Ari promised as he cupped your cheeks.

“Thank you Ari” you smiled.

“Anything for you sweetheart” he smiled before kissing you deeply once more.

The feeling of his protection enveloped you. You knew that difficult days were ahead of you but with Ari by your side, you knew you could not only face it, but survive it.

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