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mitchellpete · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 7 - Blindfold

pairing: vincent (collateral) x f!reader

cw: blindfolding, fingering, penetration, brief dirty talk, might count as.. roleplaying?

word count: 1800

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

It does not matter how much you pry. Vincent avoids glancing your way, instead keeping his concentrated gaze on the laptop in front of him. It’s something for work, something clearly important.

You’ve been (unsuccessfully) begging for his attention for the past half hour, body dramatically laid out on the bed across from the chair he’s in, hoping that he notices how bored you are out of the corner of his eye and decides to take pity on you.

Frankly, he doesn't care how you feel, lips pressed in a thin line as his eyes scan the screen. You don’t know what it is that has him so occupied—you can’t ask—but you know it must be a new list; background information, locations, maybe just names. Whatever. Maybe it’s nothing, and he’s just torturing you for fun.

“Vincent.”

Nothing.

He momentarily looks through the manila folder set next to the laptop, flipping through a few pages, and then returns his attention to the screen. Boring.

You sigh. “Come on,” you whine. You roll over onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows, legs swinging in the air behind you for dramatic effect. “I’m gonna add my name to that list of yours just to get you to touch me.”

Still, silence. Only this time, you feel his gaze on you.

You glance at him and surely, piercing eyes are glaring your way. Okay. Step one.

“Touch you?” he mocks, raising a brow.

“Mhm.” You give him a little smile.

“You’re obnoxious.” His eyes return to the screen, though they immediately flick back to you, and then it’s a back and forth.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

What the hell, you’ll continue prying.

“Maybe you’ll be able to focus a little better if you come here for a bit.”

“You have no idea the amount of preparation this takes,” he immediately huffs, his glare intensifying. “Maybe if you were quiet for more than a minute, I could actually make some progress.”

You gasp theatrically, playfully hurt. Okay, well he’s not ignoring you anymore.

“What if I could help you, in a way?” you idly propose, at this point just blurting out whatever comes to mind.

He scoffs, a humorless grin painting his face as he looks up at you again. “And you just keep going.”

“No, seriously. I could!” you insist. “You can.. practice on me.”

He raises the same eyebrow again. “Practice on you?”

“Yeah—” You think about it for a second. “Like, tie me up or something.” You’re half joking, maybe actually just playing into his claim. You can be obnoxious, alright.

You almost swear there’s a hint of intrigue in his eyes, but then he grumbles and shakes his head. “You’re so ridiculous.”

You shrug, ducking to rest your head on your forearms. “Fine, I’ll just sit here and pretend I’m your hostage that got away.”

Silence again.

You continue swinging your legs in the air behind you like a kid.

The scrape of the chair against the floor suddenly startles you, and you glance up to watch him stand. In a swift motion, Vincent rips something out of the back pocket of his pants—a tie, it looks like—and stalks over to you in quick strides. Wide eyed, you watch as his hand comes down to roughly grip your arm. You let him manhandle you over onto your back, and then he’s mounting the bed on his knees, pressing you down hard against the mattress. Okay. Maybe you teased him a little too much and he’s gonna fucking choke you with the tie to finally get some peace and quiet, but no—it’s not a tie he’s holding, it’s a blindfold.

You realize because he’s unraveling it in his hands above you, preparing to lay it against your eyes.

You look up at him curiously. “Who just carries a blindfold in their back pocket?”

“Shut up, or it goes around your mouth instead,” he threatens, irritated.

Cold fingers come down against your cheekbones as he roughly presses the cloth against your eyes. They’re forced shut against the fabric, but it’s surprisingly soft against your eyelids. You lift your head to aid him in moving and tying the cloth around the back of your head, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as he works a tight knot. He ties it tight, like this isn’t a joke at all. It’s then that you realize the gravity of the situation, your body suddenly tensing with anxiety.

You’re not sure what his next move is.

A part of you fears he’ll just tie you up and leave you there, in the form of a sick and cruel joke; doing something as twisted as such just to get you to back off sounds exactly like him.

You’re out of witty comments when you feel him move off of you, and then it seems that maybe yeah, he’s definitely leaving you here and you might be a little scared now so you’re not gonna reach up and touch the blindfold at all.

You exhale sharply, unsure of what to do with your hands. You awkwardly leave them at your sides, fingernails lightly scratching at your thighs. You hear Vincent moving about in the room, probably looking for something else to tie you up with. Not that you know, but he’s got no intention of that; you realize when you start to hear his belt unbuckle. Excitement subdues your anxiety.

Vincent begins mumbling to himself under his breath and then you feel strong arms wrapping around your middle, one under your waist and the other around your leg, yanking you harshly to the end of the bed. You squeal in surprise, nails dragging along the sheets and fisting in them when he grabs at your garments and pulls. Your pants and your underwear are off in one quick tug, getting another yelp out of you.

“You wanna play games, we can play games,” you hear him grumble, quiet but with an unnerving edge to his voice.

“Vince..”

“Shut up,” he repeats, his hand cupping your core.

You buck into his palm, a very happy noise leaving your mouth.

You feel the bed dip beside your thigh, his hand, presumably, and he’s able to lean into you. His palm rubs you up and down, almost with an impatient force. You whine, head rolling side to side on the mattress as your desire grows. When the rubbing noise gets wet, Vincent easily glides a finger through your folds, and then slips two inside you.

You gasp, a real one this time, and arch your back as he begins moving them in and out of you. There’s absolutely nothing gentle about this—he’s annoyed and he’s turned on, and it’s all your fault and he’s gonna show you exactly what it is you got yourself into.

The noises only get wetter, filthier, and it hits you how alluring this all is, how reactive your body feels like this. You wonder what he’s looking at, or what expression he has on his face. If he’s irritated with you for driving him here, if he’d rather go back to his work. If the blindfold is doing something for him.

Vincent is still mumbling to himself, though you can hardly hear him with the noises your cunt is making and the—frankly, loud—moaning you’re doing.

“Oh, God,” you groan, your pleasure elevating to that level of trying not to cum, and for a second you think you might, so soon already.

He feels your walls tense around his fingers and tsks, drawing them back out. You yelp again, a long, whiny moan stuck in the back of your throat. Vincent grabs onto your waist and pulls you even closer, his grip so tight it almost aches. Immediately, you’re met with his solid frame, your legs inadvertently wrapping around his waist. His pants are either off or lowered, the skin of his waist warm compared to his cold grip.

You feel the line of his cock against you and bite down harshly on your lip to brave the stretch; it comes easily, his previous work on you having left even your inner thighs drenched. He slides into you with a rough snap of his hips, wasting no time in situating himself as deep inside of you as he can.

“This is what you fucking wanted?” he snarls, and you realize how close to you he is, his voice merely inches from your face.

You can feel his body hovering over yours; each snap of his hips bringing him even closer.

Your moans sound strangled, trapped in your throat, almost like a cry. You try to answer his question, try to recollect yourself. He sets a fast, punishing pace immediately, and his groans start—quiet at first—but hot against your ear.

“So fucking needy,” he rasps through gritted teeth. “Look at you—” He pauses, and it’s just the crude sound of your hips meeting. “—How you like to get fucked.”

You cry out, close, but he remains relentless.

“Fucking blindfolded.” He scoffs humorlessly, hips slamming into you over and over.

It’s not rare, but it’s not very common for him to kiss you when he’s fucking you stupid. He likes watching your face, likes seeing the moans that spill from your lips, how your face contorts in pleasure as he takes you. Not a big kisser. He does, in this instance, slot his mouth against yours, however, and it’s just as rough as his pace. It’s teeth in the beginning, and then it’s a jarring bite to your lip. You move your mouth against his the best you can, but all you can really focus on is how fucking great your entire body feels. Every inch of it is lit up with pleasure, sensations you can’t even begin to describe. He’s usually rough, so it’s gotta be the fact that you can’t see a damn thing and the rest of your senses are heightened and sensitive and Oh—

Vincent growls against your mouth, low in his throat, and you cum with a sob. The orgasm shatters you, your breath catching in your throat as you feel it course through your body. Your eyes are closed behind the cloth but you somehow see a swirl of stars behind your eyelids, dancing around in the darkness.

He reaches his peak with a hiss and immediately pulls out, your body shuddering.

He leaves you there for a minute and you hear him recollecting himself, breathing heavily. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re sinking into the mattress, your thighs aching from his aggressive grip, your core throbbing from the pace. You’re still panting when you feel him—gently this time—lift your head to loosen the knots.

“Blindfold is all I had on me. Next time it’s cuffs.”

#sorry you guys still behind but working on it i swear #has anyone even written for this character before..?#don't know how to tag it #collateral #vincent collateral x reader #kinktober 2023 #tom cruise x reader #*

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zepskies · 2 months

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And So It Goes - Part 19

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job, and more importantly her life—or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

Word Count: 4,200

Tags/Warnings: Angst, tension, and a plan made…

ASIG Series Masterlist

19: Collateral

The morning after Butcher, Ben, and Hughie returned to the house came yet another bomb of information Helena wasn’t prepared for.

Homelander had been created in a lab…using Ben’s DNA.

Holy fucking shit, Helena thought, as she sat down heavily on her couch. That seemed to be the anthem of her year.

Ben explained how Vogelbaum had framed it to him back in 1980—as a simple genetics experiment (the details for which, Ben may or may not have tuned out at the time). After the weight of that fell between them all, he left the room with a large bottle of bourbon Helena had hidden under the sink.

“We’re all packed up for the road,” Butcher said. He looked over at Helena and Hughie, who sat together on her couch. Frowning, she noticed how Hughie discreetly blotted at some dark-colored substance coming from his ear. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t earwax.

What the fuck? she wondered.

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” Butcher asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

“You mean, ever since he told us he was supposed to kill his own son?” Hughie retorted. “He locked himself in the bathroom, with a bottle of Old Granddad.”

“My alcohol, you mean,” Helena quipped.

“Homelander ain’t really his son, and he knows it,” Butcher pointed out. He seemed tired, to Helena’s eyes. She could hear it in his voice. She also thought he wasn’t giving this news the full weight it deserved. It had clearly shaken Ben, no matter how much Butcher didn’t want to hear of any kind of hang-ups to their mission.

Before she could say anything about it, Ben finally came out from down the hall. He glanced at them all before he ventured into the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

At least it’s not my beer, Helena thought.

“All right, let’s be off then, ey?” Butcher said, hauling on his black trench coat. “We’ll swing by the office and grab some more V. Then Hughie’ll bring us to where the cunts are. And we’ll pop off Noir, then Homelander.”

Helena shot him an incredulous look.

“More V,” she said, gesturing at Hughie. “Really. Because the black sludge coming out of his ear isn’t enough of a warning sign?”

Hughie grimaced, but Butcher gave her a tight, resigned look.

“You know the score, love. We’ve got two more on the list. That means heading to the Tower,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed here.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a narrowed look. After last night, she thought he would’ve understood her by now. She didn’t want him to go through with all of this, for his own sake, but if he wouldn’t listen to her, then she would at least try to make sure he and Hughie lived through this.

Because if she let him and Hughie go without her now, knowing she could’ve done something to help…then she’d never forgive herself.

“Well, there’s no sneaky way you’re going to get V24. The R&D lab is below ground at Vought Tower, Level 0. Even when I worked there I didn’t have clearance,” Helena said. Though as an idea grew in her mind, she bit her lip, and finally sighed.

“But there’s a way we can go about this without just bulldozing through the front door…I can get you in there from the control room.”

“Not necessary,” Butcher said. His brows drew together as he looked down at her, drawing closer. She met his gaze with a stubbornness he should’ve expected.

“It is if you want to maintain any kind of element of surprise against Black Noir, let alone Homelander,” she said. Butcher’s lips pressed together, but she made it clear, even in her silence, that he wasn’t leaving without her this time.

Butcher crossed his arms and met her stance, just as bullheaded as ever.

“You’re not coming,” he said.

An hour later, Helena was breezing through radio stations, sitting shotgun in Butcher’s car, while Hughie was forced to sit in the back with Ben. They were cruising at full speed down the highway towards New York City.

“Fucking land on something already,” Ben sniped from the backseat. If he heard one more station change from girly pop to heavy metal, he was going to lose his shit.

Helena rolled her eyes and settled on something they could all agree on: John Lennon, “Give Peace a Chance.” She had to stifle a sardonic smile at the irony.

After a while, Ben started to snooze in the back, while Hughie stared out the window. Helena turned to Butcher and asked something she’d been wondering for days now.

“How’d you even get ahold of V24 to begin with?” she asked.

Butcher expelled a sigh, but he was honest, after swiping a hand over his mouth and beard. “Through Maeve. She gave me the tip on Payback, on a weapon that supposedly killed Soldier Boy, the whole thing. She wants that golden cunt dead as much as we do.”

Helena nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

She’d been seeing a lot about Maeve on the news; that supposedly she was in rehab, according to Vought. But Starlight fans were teaming up with Maeve fans on social media, demanding proof that she was actually where Vought said she was.

If what Butcher said was true, then maybe Vought had found out about what Maeve was up to. Maybe they’d decided to take her off the playing field.

Helena shook her head in contemplation. This was it. Homelander, Vought—the entire thing needed to crumble. As much as she hated the plan, she could admit that with Ben on board, there was a shot that it wouldn’t all end in even more blood and misery.

Helena woke after a doze to Butcher climbing back into the driver’s seat. They were stopped at a gas station, for which she assumed he’d filled up the tank. Something wasn’t right though, she thought, as the car started moving.

Ben groaned as he woke up from his long nap, and he noticed the same thing she had.

“Oh, there he is,” Butcher said.

“Where’s the cum guzzler?” Ben asked. Helena rolled her eyes; she could only assume he meant Hughie. It was a valid question though. She turned to Butcher with a frown.

“You were spot on about him. There I was, filling up the motor. I turn around, the little git had done a runner,” Butcher said.

Helena’s face turned incredulous, but the knowing shift in Butcher’s gaze implored her to play along. She hesitated, but then she tried to school her features into something more neutral.

“We needed him to get to Noir,” Ben said in annoyance.

“Ah, don’t you worry about that, guv. I got it all worked out,” said Butcher.

Now Helena knew there was something off here. She’d learned to tell when he was lying, but this time his gaze remained on the road. He glanced into the review mirror to watch Ben contemplating.

After a moment, the supe seemed to accept his words.

“Wake me when we get to New York,” he said, and laid across the entire backseat of the car.

Helena shot Butcher a sharper look. It said she’d want answers later; she knew there was no way Hughie would cut and run, not when they were so close.

Butcher nodded in acceptance. He knew he could fool Soldier Boy, but not Helena. He just had to figure out what he was going to do with Helena when they got to his apartment in the city, because he had no intention of bringing her to Vought Tower.

He glanced at her, but she was suspicious now. She crossed her arms and shook her head at him before she faced the road ahead.

It was a long car ride.

A few hours later, they arrived at the apartment Supe Affairs had been funding for Butcher’s team. There, they took some time to regroup. While Ben raided the fridge, Butcher pulled out a locked box from a large safe in the back room. Helena peered into it incredulously.

“Why do you guys have a giant-ass safe?” she asked. “You could fit a whole body in there. More than one, actually.”

She stepped back when Butcher closed it back up. He tossed her a knowing look.

“Having a lead-lined box comes in handy,” he said. He set down the smaller one he carried on the dining table and unlocked it. Inside were a few more green vials of V24. Helena’s brows raised.

“Huh. You really didn’t need my help,” she remarked. Butcher remained quiet, earning her gaze. “Why’d you let me come here with you then?”

“‘Cause I knew you’d raise hell for me, whatever I did,” he said. It was half-exasperated, but she detected the slightly softer edge behind his eyes. He knew why she was here, why she was insistent on helping him. She wanted him to come out of this in one piece, but not just for herself.

With that heavy thought, she watched him walk away from her to check on Ben in the kitchen. She was left with an open box with a handful of vials left.

The thought of V24 disgusted her…but she knew, if she was going back to Vought Tower, if she was taking any chance of coming face-to-face with Homelander again, she needed to protect herself.

She grabbed a vial and hid it in her jacket pocket.

While Helena took her time refreshing herself in the bathroom, she soon caught the muffled sounds of Butcher and Ben talking.

She carefully opened the door a crack, and she listened. She heard Ben talk about The Soldier Boy Story losing out Best Picture to American in Paris. It had been Vought’s best PR story for Soldier Boy’s background—a poor kid from the streets of South Philly, who discovered he had incredible powers to match his heart of gold.

To no one’s surprise, that story was utter bullshit.

Ben had grown up the son of one of the wealthiest steel moguls in Philadelphia, his father. Ben later got kicked out of boarding school…

“Because I was a fuck up,” Helena was surprised to hear him say. She ventured out of the bathroom and lingered in the hall, so she could spy the back of him while he continued with Butcher. Both of them were drinking. Whiskey, if she had to guess.

“But he made sure I knew it,” Ben said, speaking of his father.

“Use the belt, did he?” Butcher asked.

“Never laid a hand on me. He couldn’t be bothered,” Ben replied. “Said I was a disappointment. Not good enough to carry his name.”

Once again, Helena fought the sap within her that wanted to sympathize. She continued to fight against it, even when he admitted that his father hadn’t even been satisfied when Ben underwent Vought’s experiments and became Soldier Boy.

“He said I took a shortcut,” said Ben. “That a real man wouldn’t have cheated.”

Helena took in a subtle breath. She heard the heaviness in his voice. The resentment, and yet, a thread of resignation. She understood then where it all came from—the bravado. The machismo. The asshole behavior. It all stemmed from that wound inside him that craved validation from his father.

Helena could relate. Her own father was, and had always been impossible to please. She knew what it was like to be a disappointment.

In the living room, Ben swirled the liquor in his drink as he shoved down memories of a life he’d thought he left behind a long time ago.

“What about you, got any kids?” Ben asked.

“It’s complicated,” Butcher admitted.

But even when Ben admitted that he’d wanted kids, that he thought he could do it better than his father, Butcher saw through those threads. He reminded that Homelander wasn’t Ben’s son. Not really. He was raised in a lab to take Ben’s place. And more than that…

“Look mate,” Butcher said. “We had a deal.”

Ben drained the rest of his glass and stood. Suddenly this room felt stiff and oppressive.

“I’m gonna get some air,” he said.

Helena watched him head for the apartment’s balcony. She stepped into the living room and shared a look with Butcher.

“On one hand, you probably abandoned Hughie at some random gas station,” she said. “On the other hand, you’re doing your hardest to keep Ben on your side.”

Butcher shook his head instead of answering her, but she stepped into his path and laid a hand on his chest.

“I think you left Hughie because you wanted to save him from all this, like you probably want to leave me here,” she said. “You’re not the same man who started this whole kamikaze mission. The difference now is, you actually have a line you won’t cross.”

Butcher looked down on her, not knowing what she wanted him to say. Just now though, she didn’t need him to say anything.

She grasped the front of his shirt and pulled herself up to him, meeting his lips with hers. It was slow, but with the underlying passion that had always existed between them, right from the start. His hands migrated down the curve of her waist and held her close, his fingers pressing into her lower back.

When she broke from him and met his heavy eyes, hers were filled with quiet determination. Butcher couldn’t understand it. Part of him even hated it, knowing he was still dragging her down with him here.

“Why are you being so fucking stubborn?” Butcher asked.

Her head tilted as she gave a wry smile. “What do you mean?”

His grip on her waist tightened a little.

“Why’re you staying with me?” he pressed. “Hel, you know where this ends.”

“Billy, I don’t have a death wish,” she told him. She squeezed his arms back. “But I don’t just want you alive for me. Ryan needs you too.”

Butcher shook his head, but she stopped him from withdrawing.

“He don’t need me,” he said. “Fact is, both of you are better off without.”

“Yes, he does. He loves you, Billy. He’ll forgive you if you give it a chance. And like it or not, he’s your responsibility. Because you made a promise,” Helena said firmly, pressing a finger into his chest. Tears welled up in her eyes as she met his furrowed stare. “Be a fucking man. Take care of the people you care about. The people who love you.”

Her voice shook, but her conviction was fierce and steady. Butcher could only look down on her in silence, even though her words rattled him down to his boots.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of their heads turned, though their eyes briefly met before Butcher gestured for her to step back while he ventured towards the door. He looked in the peephole first.

His eyes widened. Bloody hell?

He opened the door to find Queen Maeve, looking a bit ragged in an “I <3 New York” t-shirt and some pajama pants that were too big for her.

“Fuck me,” Butcher said in shock. “I thought you was dead.”

M.M. then quickly stepped into view, making Helena gasp when he pointed his gun directly under Butcher’s chin.

“You didn’t think I knew where the blind spots were, motherfucker?” he said.

“M.M.!” Helena exclaimed, half in greeting, half in warning. Her face practically begged him not to pull that trigger. The other man’s lips pursed.

“Hey, Hel,” he said, more casually than he looked. Behind him and Maeve were Hughie and Annie, Kimiko and Frenchie. The whole gang was here.

“Back up,” M.M. ordered at Butcher. He obliged him by stepping back into the room, closer to Helena, but still in front of her.

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” Annie asked. Her tone boded no further bullshit.

“You on that Temp. V shit, Butcher? Huh?” M.M. demanded. “What happens if I pull this trigger?”

“M.M., stop!” Helena tried. She stepped forward, but Butcher stopped her with a hand held against her. Hughie likewise grabbed M.M.’s shoulder and imploringly diffused him, at least for the moment.

“If Soldier Boy goes through with this, thousands will die,” Hughie said. “Help us stop him.”

“This ain’t a bloody kinder care we’re on about, son. It’s Vought-fucking-Tower,” Butcher pointed out.

“Becca worked in the Tower,” said Frenchie. Helena shot him a look for that one, as did Butcher. Helena had worked for Vought as well.

“You shut your fucking cake hole, Frenchie,” Butcher shot back.

“No,” Frenchie said. He seemed to gain some confidence in standing his ground. He dropped his backpack to the floor and planted his feet as he glared back at Butcher. “No! My cakehole will remain open! You will never command me again. I am done with your cruelty—”

Helena’s brows raised. Once again, Hughie played the part of peacekeeper as he talked Frenchie down from his (seemingly well-earned) tirade.

“We, we heard you, okay?” Hughie said. He turned to Butcher and leveled him with an honest truth. “You could’ve let me die from the V, but you saved me… In the shittiest way possible, but still. I don’t think you want to do this. I think you want me to pull you back. Like Lenny used to.”

Helena’s eyes widened. He knows about Lenny?

She looked to Butcher for his reaction…and she missed the way Maeve moved. She grabbed something out of Kimiko’s hand and tossed it out the window, despite Annie’s protests. Then she ripped M.M.’s gun apart.

“Butcher’s right. Homelander needs to die!” Maeve said. “That’s it. Whatever it takes.”

Annie shook her head in disbelief. “I really thought that deep down you were a hero.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Maeve replied. “There’s no such thing.”

“This isn’t going to happen,” Annie refuted. Her eyes glowed, displaying her power as the lights flickered.

Helena’s mouth fell open, even as Butcher subtly stepped in front of her. Was this apartment about to become a battlefield?

“Annie, I don’t want to hurt you,” Maeve said, with caution in her eyes.

“But I will,” said Ben. He finally drew back into the living room. Helena didn’t know how long it had been since he’d stepped back inside, but she could assume he’d been waiting for the right moment. That was apparently right fucking now.

He drew all eyes in the room, including M.M.’s darkened gaze.

“All right, you lot. Into the safe,” said Butcher. Helena shot him an incredulous look.

“Billy,” she tried. He wasn’t able to be so stoic looking down at her, but he was resolute in his decision.

“You too, love,” he said. His hand guided her by the small of her back. When she tried to push back, he grasped her arm with a strong, but not painful hold and shepherded her along with the rest of them into the safe. Except for Ben and Maeve, of course.

Helena met Ben’s gaze, but his unyielding mask was firmly in place. She reached out to Butcher before he closed the door. She knew what he was doing; this was his version of saving her—of keeping her out of this. But she glared at him.

“Billy, don’t do this,” she all but pleaded.

He stared back at her in silent apology. “Goodbye, Helena.”

Then he shut the door, casting them all in darkness.

She was grateful no one could see the way she wiped a tear or two from her cheeks. Butcher had shut off the power, so Annie couldn’t use her abilities to draw from the electricity. What she could do was bulldoze her way through the safe, ramming it over and over with her shoulder until the door burst open, allowing them to escape.

Annie shook off the exertion and took in deep breaths.

“Okay, they got a really big head start, but I know a way in,” she said.

“So do I,” said Helena. The women looked to one another with a tenuous truce.

“Then what?” said M.M., after he turned the power back on. “The way I see it, we’re fucked with no grease. No plan and no knockout gas.”

“Knockout gas? Is that what Maeve threw out the window?” Helena asked.

“Yeah, it’s Novichok,” Hughie explained. “A nerve agent. Literally the only thing the Russians found that can take down Soldier Boy.”

Her eyes widened. “What, it can kill him?”

“No, just put him to sleep, indefinitely,” he replied. She considered that with a frown. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking this, considering all the bullshit he’d pulled on her, but she didn’t know if putting Ben to sleep was something she wanted to see happen to him…

“Well, maybe we can reason with him, assuming he takes down Homelander,” she suggested. “Ben’s a raging asshole, but he’s not totally…”

Her words died on her tongue when she realized how M.M. was looking at her, as if he didn’t know her.

“Ben? Motherfuckin’ Ben?” he said incredulously. “So what were you doing all this time, playing fucking house with America’s oldest killer?”

“M.M., that’s not how it went down,” Hughie tried to jump in on Helena’s behalf, but she crossed her arms and stood firm.

“I was trying to help Butcher and Hughie stay alive,” she said, gesturing pointedly at the younger man. Hughie gave a sheepish look.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s a good man,” she continued, meeting M.M.’s angry gait. “But there’s humanity in Ben. I’ve seen it.”

The man had an ego a mile high and twice and wide, with anger issues and that only barely masked how repressed he was, emotionally. He’d threatened her, and even bruised her…but he hadn’t killed her.

He hadn’t wanted to. He’d walked away before he could actually break her.

It wasn’t a strong vote of confidence for his character, but it was better than Homelander, nonetheless.

“You really think you can change that rat bastard,” M.M. said, breaking her out of her thoughts as he shook his head. “Just like you think you change Butcher!”

“I’m not trying to change anyone!” she raised her voice to meet his. “But I do believe that people can choose to change. To be better.”

Because if there was no hope for that, then there was no hope for herself either.

“Call me an idiot,” she said, and she threw her hands up. “Call me a bitch and a lunatic, I don’t care! I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m going to do what I think is right.”

“Yeah, what’s right for you,” M.M. shot back.

“Maybe,” she snapped. “Maybe it is selfish, and I’m sorry. After Homelander’s dead, I’ll help you with Soldier Boy, whatever I can do. But do you really think Ben is the biggest threat right now? To everyone and anyone?”

M.M. seethed in silence, but he didn’t seem to have an answer for her. Annie, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie—they all stood by Helena and M.M., in both silent contemplation and wariness.

“Okay, then what’s less selfish?” Helena asked, with gesturing hands at him. “Taking out Soldier Boy for your revenge, or ending the biggest fucking psychopath in the world? Otherwise known as Homelander. Who, if you forgot, was responsible for my best friend’s death.”

That fell between them all, heavier than a stone in a shallow pool. Part of Helena felt guilty for spinning M.M.’s cause as selfish, but she’d made her point. M.M., Butcher, Ben, and even she had a score to settle. It was just a matter of who was willing to sacrifice the most for it.

She wasn’t willing to sacrifice her life for revenge, but she would for the ones she loved.

M.M.’s anger soon lessened, by degrees.

“Okay,” said Hughie. He cut through some of the tension, as he himself let out a breath. “How do we get more Novichok?”

“…We don’t,” M.M. said. “That was the only one.”

After a moment of deliberation, Frenchie chimed in. There was a lab in New York that might just have what he needed. It just happened to be Vought’s R&D lab on Level 0.

It was a crazy plan.

“We’re going to break into Vought Tower, while you go to the lab, crawling with armed guards, and you’re gonna cook up the world’s most dangerous neurotoxin?” M.M. said. Sarcasm and disbelief dripped with every word. “With what, a little moxie and a little Mr. Wizard know-how? While we hold off Homelander and Soldier Boy?”

“Uh…oui?” said Frenchie.

Helena looked over at him with a sharp frown. “Are you fucking high?”

He gave her a smile. “Also oui.”

She sighed and covered her eyes with her hand.

“We’re so screwed,” she muttered. “But we’re also wasting time.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Hughie said, with a smile. Annie met her boyfriend with a smile of her own.

“Me too,” she said.

Kimiko agreed to this ingenious plan more readily than M.M., and even Helena. Even so, they had no other options. They were heading to Vought Tower.

AN: Phew! On to the finale! (And then the Epilogue after that.) I finally finished writing the last chapters of this series, so the next chapter will be out soon: on 2/20.

Next Time:

By the time Helena turned back to the scene before them, Ryan’s eyes were glowing red.

He shot a laser beam right at Soldier Boy, knocking him through the far wall and onto his ass. When he got up, shaking rubble from his shoulders, he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Fortunately, Helena reached Ryan just as Ben took a few intimidating steps forward.

“Ben, stop!” she shouted. And it actually halted the supe’s steps.

Keep Reading: Part 20

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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