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luminoustico · 1 year

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his smile hides a lie: chapter 1

Summary:

"So many nobles, tripping over themselves to catch such a prize, and yet, you… a commoner.” The right corner of his mouth tilted up with the threat of a smile. “You convinced the creature to give up the prize.” Rey swallowed. Her heartbeat filled her ears, the birdsong around her deafening now as she held her ground before a king and his desires. Oh yes, his desires. She was only a country girl, but she knew men. She knew when they wanted something more than life. "The Man in the Iron Mask" (1998) AU: chapter two | chapter three [[story also available on AO3]]

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CHAPTER ONE: take what you want / take what you can

The Empire of the Seven Seas was vast and wide-ranging, but the jewel in the crown was the palace of Chandrila. The king had been a boy, eleven and barely able to get onto a horse without help, when construction began. The palace had grown with him, starting from the domesticity of the summer estate where he had been born to a sprawling mass of glass and gold by the time of his coronation.

Grimly, Han walked past stone sculptures of the gods of the Empire of the Seven Seas and towards the King’s chambers. He knew what he would find, but it was heart-sinking to come upon the sight anyway. The man, forty and beginning to grey, was sitting alone with his tricorne hat squashed tightly in his fists. He was fighting back tears; an ambassador enduring humiliation, in deference to the King’s foolish whims.

Han sighed. This was a particular favourite game of Kylo’s. He would draw a loyal politician’s wife into his bed, and then summon the politician to wait outside until they were finished.

Shoving open the chamber doors, Han marched inside. Within, Kylo Ren had the wife of the Coruscanti ambassador on her hands and knees in his bed. He was behind her, riding her to his finish.

Han closed his eyes and sighed.

No doubt, outside of this room, the ambassador’s wife was a tower of diplomatic strength for her husband. No doubt at all that she represented her land with airs and graces learned from a young age. Here, however… here, she was a plaything. She probably thought she could be a royal mistress if she was convincing enough.

The King found his pleasure (thank the gods), and the Coruscanti woman praised him again and again.

Han cautiously re-opened his eyes. Kylo lay back in his bed and tugged his covers across his lap. The ambassador’s wife draped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his jawline and chest, murmuring sweet nothings.

Still caught in the haze of delusion. Her King would put pay to that. Indeed, it happened in no time at all. The moment Kylo saw Han standing in the doorway, he jumped out of bed and pulled on a banyan. It was a brilliant red of fire embroidered with gold and the hem and sleeves were lined with black fur.

(Such were the skills of the tailors of Chandrila. However plain thinking the man who came through Chandrila’s doors, the tailors would get their hands on him and have him worshipping silk and satin just like the rest.)

Kylo paid more attention to how his banyan fell on his shoulders than he did to the woman in his bed. She knew it, and her smile crumpled.

“My king?” she ventured; her voice was soft. She quietly, sadly covered herself.

Kylo made a show of remembering her presence, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Don’t keep your husband waiting, Madame.”

She fled then, only stopping when her husband called her name. From his place, Han watched as the husband tore his coat from his shoulders, covering his wife with it. As she wailed, he held her hand, held her up by her shoulders and began walking her down the corridor.

The guards quietly returned and shut the bedchamber doors.

Han sighed. Slumping into a chair, he ran his hand down his face. He did not need this kind of chaos today.

“…Do you want more war?”

“The King of Coruscant has despised his ambassador since they were at school. When news of this gets to him, he’ll offer me half of his army as a thank you.” The king’s bayan brushed the floor as he wandered. “I’m not reckless.”

Sitting by the unlit hearth, the king began to eat from a platter of meats, cheeses and freshly picked fruits. Nothing but the best for the so-called Sun King. He’d been happy to wear cotton as a prince; nothing but silks and satins and feasts would do for him now.

“May the Gods help me,” Han grumbled. “Other kings find their thrills in chequers. Or cards.”

Kylo chuckled. His eyes were clear and cold.

“Why don’t you spend some time with your mistress?” Han pressed. He leaned forward, cocking a grin. “I’m sure Bazine misses you.”

“You need to keep up, Captain. Madame Netal has been retired to a convent, with half a million francs as pension.”

Han stared at his king with growing dismay. Madame Netal had been admired throughout the court for her wit and beauty, true, but to Han, he’d only admired her for her ability to calm the king whenever he’d been in a fractious mood.

Kylo tilted his head, clearly reading Han’s expression.

“You disapprove.”

Han remembered himself. “Not at all.” Standing up, he cleared his throat. “Everything’s fine.”

“Hm.”

Kylo leaned back in his chair. He picked out an orange from an ornate crystal-cut bowl. Picking up his letter opener—its hilt was adorned with blood-red rubies—from his writing desk, he swiftly peeled the orange skin in one motion.

“Han.” He cast aside the peel, abandoning it on the floor. “You promised me that you would be as loyal to me as you were to my father. Didn’t you?”

“I just wondered..." Han shifted in his seat. It was wise to choose his words carefully. He sighed. Unfortunately, that never seemed to be his strong suit. “Why the Coruscanti woman? There are other women…”

Kylo gave a thoughtful nod. “I suppose you’re right. I am bored with aristocratic women.”

“That’s not what I—”

“They can’t offend," Kylo continued while digging his finger and thumb into the flesh of the orange. He pulled out a section of it and took a bite, juice running over his fingers. “They’re not bred for it.”

Han said nothing. He knew when his king had his mind made up.

“I need someone who hasn’t come from the noble stock… someone who…” Kylo pursed his lips, thinking as he ate. A sly grin crossed his face as he found his answer. “Someone who needs to be taught.”

Han blinked.

Kylo waited for a reaction, prompting his captain to speak with a raise of his brow.

Han swallowed. Any reaction he had would only be an admonishment, and his king was already pleased enough.

So instead, he nodded, swept into a deep bow, and left.

---------------------------------------------------

“The quickest of attacks!”

Rey smiled as she approached the barn, hearing the clash of swords. She came round the corner and watched from the doorway. Finn, sword in his right hand and his left tucked at the small of his back, lunged forward. Rose, his opponent, sidestepped the move with a twist of her feet and a flourish of her blade.

“Ooh! The slowest of blocks, easily avoided,” Rose added, more flirting than fighting. Finn, laughing, doubled back. They both reset their footing, a wink from Finn beginning another series of playful parries and blocks between them. Rey rolled her eyes.

“And,” said Rose, panting, “the most skilled of denouements—”

Her ankle wrapped around the back of Finn’s shin, and she pulled.

“Oof!” He was suddenly on his back in the hay.

Chickens clucked outside. From its stable, his father’s horse whickered above him. Finn narrowed his eyes. Propping himself up on his elbows, he glared up at Rose.

“You cheated.” His glare turned to Rey. “And you let her.”

“Like all good swordsmen, she used her knowledge of her opponent to gain an advantage,” Rey replied, glancing down. Just inside the barn was Finn’s cat, Babette. Usually, she was a ferocious hunter, bringing little gifts to her owner with those wide brown eyes of hers. Right now, the sunlight was lighting Babette’s white fur, spotted with orange, with a soft yellow. Her stomach—swollen with the promise of kittens—rose and fell as she snoozed. Rey bent down to rub her thumb over the crest of her little head. Stirring, Babette purred. Her tail swished happily and she tilted back her chin, unsubtly demanding more attention.

Rey happily obeyed, kneeling by the cat to scoop her up into a cuddle.

Finn’s attention returned to Rose. Like Rey, she was wearing a man’s garments; trousers and a too-big shirt with a thick leather belt cinching in her waist. Finn tried to look furious with her, but all that earned him was Rose sticking her tongue out at him. In response, Finn reached up and grasped her hands, hanging limp and unguarded at her sides. Rose shrieked as he tugged her down into the hay beside him.

Rey laughed as they wrestled each other. Babette mewled a yawn and returned to her spot by the doorway.

“Finn!” Rose gasped, lost in the hay with him, but she quietened as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her closer. Gently, he kissed her. Rose easily fell into the embrace, hanging her arms around his neck.

Rey politely lowered her gaze, already planning a quick exit—but a clearing of the throat had them all scrambling to their feet and falling into line.

Lando, entering, cocked an easy smile.

“So, how goes the lesson?” he asked.

Snatching a piece of hay from Rose’s hair, Finn cleared his throat.

“Father.”

“Finn was just showing Rose some new counter-moves, Monsieur,” Rey said, unable to bite back a laugh as she spoke. Rose nudged her in the ribs as punishment.

“Ah, he takes after his father,” Lando replied, not batting an eye. He pointed up the road with his cane, looking at Rey and Rose. “Maz is waiting for you two.”

Rose tipped her hat to the former Musketeer. The high of her cheeks were pinked and she hurried out of the barn. Rey and Finn came closer to Lando as they watched her climb over the fence boundary and hurry up the rutted dust path.

A distance up on the hill, there was the familiar ramshackle farmhouse that always sheltered nearly a dozen stray travellers and workers. Maz's horses grazed in the far-off paddock. Figures were gathered in the courtyard, soldiers, and travellers. From the crowd came Maz, small and wrinkled, cheerfully weather-beaten and carrying a wine jug almost twice her weight with ease.

“My boy,” Lando started, catching both Rey and Finn’s attention, “I know it’s only a matter of hours before you ask Rose for her hand. I’ve heard you rehearsing enough times. So, I thought—” As he spoke, Lando reached into the leather pouch at his hip.

From it, he brought a scrap of fabric. “You could do with this. It was your mama's.”

Finn frowned, almost in disbelief. Carefully, he took the offered piece of fabric. He felt the weight of it in his palm. The hem of it, folded in on itself, fluttered in the wind. He pulled at the fabric.

His eyes widened.

A single silver ring lay in his palm. A small diamond was its top.

Rey swallowed. She’d known this was coming for a long time, since the moment Rose had thrown an apple at Finn’s back for riding one of Maz’s horses without permission; but it didn’t stop the fear from tugging at Rey anyway, reminding her that all she had in the world, right now, was Maz’s tavern and her friends. She’d worked so hard to achieve it too. Working off her parents’ debt to Unkar, escaping Jakku…

Marriage, in one fell swoop, would change all of it.

Rey was good with a sword and could ride a horse, so technically, she was brave. She didn’t think she was brave enough for this. For so much change, so soon.

"Do you think she'll accept?" Finn asked breathlessly, pulling Rey from her thoughts.

However scared I am, I must face it and not run, she thought, reminding herself of the earliest lesson life had taught her. It had fuelled her fiery hope that her parents would return; later, when she’d been forced to grow up and put away childish things, she turned that fire towards making a new life, away from Jakku.

It would help her now too.

“Finn, I think you’ll be returning to your father as the happiest man in the world. That’s what I think,” she declared, with a beaming grin. Before either son or father could reply, she turned away and hurried towards Maz’s tavern, kicking up dust behind her. “I’ll see you later!”

---------------------------------------------------

“What is the latest news?” The question was simple enough, but his war council of yes men still scrabbled for answers. Kylo glanced at himself in the full-length mirror. The new design was admirable, his signature black embroidered with accents of red and gold. The Chandrila tailors had done themselves proud, a fact confirmed by their king with a nod. The tailors set about packing away their things.

Leia sat by the fireplace and watched the scene. Her lady-in-waiting, Amilyn, stood at her side. Ever loyal in her silvery day gown.

“The city of Kijimi was a sizeable victory, Majesté,” said one, shuffling through papers.

A familiar smirk tilted at the corner of Kylo’s lips. “I was there.”

“Of course Majesté, my mistake, forgive me.”

Amilyn’s eyes slid towards Leia’s. Her expression was minimal, barely changed, but it said everything. Leia smiled. (Her lady-in-waiting was wise and knew foolishness when she saw it.)

The war council continued.

“We’ve formed five armies, as commanded, for the five fronts,” said another, his eyes sliding towards the first advisor. He pointed with a gloved hand to the map on the table. “Lothal, Corellia, Jakku—”

“Pasaana and Batuu,” Kylo finished. He examined the map, his long fingers tracing over the drawings. It had been barely a month since he had returned from the siege, eyes shining with triumph. “Hux performed well at Kijimi. Now I am back at Chandrila, he can remain there for now and focus on keeping our victory secure. Canady can put his attention to Canto Bight.”

“Majesté, Canto Bight is neutral.”

“If played right, our strategy will reward us,” Kylo said. Leia glanced at the ministers huddled by the archway of the war room. They stood below gilded frames containing painted victories. Directly above them was a painted vision of her son sitting astride a horse, beating back a crowd of foes on a battlefield ablaze.

Leia could remember the day he posed for it. He’d spent thousands to sit on a padded box with his sword raised high for hours while a master painted in broad brushstrokes, promising a masterpiece. Meanwhile, his people across the kingdom starved—and rioted as a result.

As if hearing her thoughts, Kylo’s attention snapped to her. He tilted his head at her.

“Maman. Do you have something to say?”

Leia took a breath. She had forged a reputation in her youth for a temper, a thing that flared and fired and remained long after the ashes had settled.

In reality, she’d simply been unable to hold her tongue around stupidity, and the men in the room—unable to tolerate having their perspectives questioned—declared her unmanageable and a harridan.

Only in courtly whispers though. She had, after all, still been the Queen.

“This is your council,” she said plainly.

“Yes,” Kylo replied, looking back to the map, “you’re so right.”

Leia glanced at the ministers. They stared back at her, with pleading in their eyes. Their proposal, heard by her, was fair enough (and, in her son’s current mood, easily dismissed). Leia rose to her feet.

“My son. Your subjects are hungry.” She received nothing and tried again. “Your people are being forced to eat either rotten food or nothing at all.”

Her son’s fist tightened impatiently against the lines of the map. “It’ll be dealt with.”

“A king,” she said carefully, “doesn’t delay his decisions.”

“There’s no delay, Maman,” he bit on his address of her, glaring up at her. “There are more important things at play.”

A pregnant silence swelled up, filling the room.

Leia broke it, turning on her heel to the cowering advisors.

“Monsieur Mitaka,” she called, and a nervous-looking man stepped forward from the ministerial huddle. “Half of the food reserved for military measures will be sent to the city.”

Kylo darted out from behind the table towards his mother. “No,” he snapped, like a father defending his child, “that food is for my soldiers.”

“Half is enough to feed the people,” she said, focusing on him. “To save them.”

Kylo glowered. “You don’t have the authority to make that order.”

A hush fell over the room as the silence returned, larger than before; practically a physical thing between son and mother—King and Queen Mother—growing without restriction.

“I make this order on behalf of my son,” Leia said finally, keeping an even tone and her eyes on her son. “As he is currently focused on military matters.”

Kylo turned away. Leia felt relief but no true triumph at her victory.

Tugging on his sleeves, Kylo headed into the grand mirrored hallway that led out onto the gardens of Chandrila. Leia, with Amilyn beside her, followed behind his train of aides and high-ranking courtiers. She saw the other courtiers through the high arched windows that lined the path outside. They were gathering in the gardens for the festivities.

Pastel hues and bright shades and parasols, and all of them arm-in-arm with potential allies, lovers, or enemies. All of those would be decided with words; the relationships would be decided with negotiation over days, though, more often than not, in a matter of moments. Words were the weapon of the courtier and they could be wielded however they liked.

As the king and his train stepped into the sunlight, Kylo raised a hand, bringing the train to a stop. His gaze became like a pinpoint, zeroing in. Leia followed his line of sight.

Among the courtiers gathering towards the gardens was a dark-skinned man. Handsome, with short, cropped hair, he wore soldier’s garments. Walking beside the dark-skinned man was a pale-skinned female—and that was on whom Kylo was fixated.

She wasn’t the usual kind of woman that Leia saw every day at the royal court. Her dress, though it showed her slender figure and sloping shoulders, was two seasons out of fashion. Its colour was a soft yellow and its collar was low across her shoulders, displaying her collarbone. She smiled and greeted those few who greeted her but walked with an uncertain gait, clearly uncomfortable to be around such finery.

Kylo’s dark brown eyes burned as he watched her. His mouth tilted with the threat of a smile.

Another girl hurried to join them and broke the spell. Shorter than the pale girl, with tan skin and black hair swept into a low bun, she was dressed in a bronze-coloured gown (which was as old, if not older, than the yellow gown) with an uncontentious engagement ring on her finger. Its diamond was so small that it barely managed to glint when it touched the sunlight. She was positively delirious with contentment, however, kissing the dark-skinned man’s cheek in greeting. She fell into step with him, her arm around his.

Soon enough, lost in their world, the lovers left the pale girl behind. She was left to wander along with the rest of the crowd, ignorant of how closely her king was watching her.

Leia looked closer at the girl. She had to be nineteen, almost twenty.

Kylo beckoned an aide forward.

“Monsieur Quinn, tell me – who is that?” asked Kylo.

“Finn Calrissian, sire. The son of the former Musketeer, Lando Calrissian. He’s recently applied to become a Musketeer himself.”

Leia smiled. Calrissian’s son. It had been a long time since she had seen Lando or Luke. They’d been here since the first day she’d arrived at the Royal court, a newly minted Queen married to a boy-faced King, but time slipped on, they grew older and their ambitions grew too, beyond their lives as Musketeers and beyond the walls of the royal palace. Lando settled to become a farmer with a wife and son while Luke—the last Leia had heard from him—was travelling the world, preaching the word of a single God.

The only one who’d remained in the palace was Han.

“I don’t mean the boy, Quinn,” Kylo said curtly, his tone inferring a joke that the rest of his train immediately snickered at, “I mean the girl who was walking with him. She seems… unguarded.”

Quinn hid his annoyance with a solemn bow of the head. “I confess, I don’t know her sir. She may have come as part of Calrissian’s party, but she is unrecognisable to me…”

Behind them, the doors to the mirrored Hall opened. Han entered. Leia allowed herself a small glance at his face. As always, his face was drawn. Her heart fluttered a little as she remembered the smile that used to be on that face, the arrogant grin that she wanted to slap away when she’d first seen him all those years ago in the courtyard, training as a Musketeer. When he was barely a man, and she was barely a woman (barely a Queen), wondering what she’d say if she ever saw the infuriating beautiful boy with the mop of brown hair again.

“Majesté—” Han started but Kylo waved a hand, immediately dismissing whatever his captain was about to say. He was still focused on the girl, watching her as she walked, separating herself from the crowd to venture down a narrow path of the gardens. She passed a fountain of stone sirens in her wake.

Kylo moved off. The train followed.

Han turned to leave. Without thinking, Leia started forward.

“Han.”

He paused but did not turn to see her.

“Yes, my lady?”

There was so much she wanted to say, every time she saw him. Quietly, she turned to her lady-in-waiting.

“You may leave us, Amilyn,” she murmured. Amilyn departed with only a single nod of the head, politely disappearing into the crowd.

It was just the two of them now, him and her among mirrors, watching one another’s reflections with a held breath between them.

At last, he turned to face her.

In a moment, the weight lifted from his shoulders. In a moment, he took a step forward, his arms lifting as if to embrace her—but a passing laugh from a courtier outside made him rethink. He dropped back.

“There’s a girl. Nineteen, brunette, in a yellow dress. Kylo spotted her. I think…” Leia glanced out of the windows. The girl was gone, and so was her son, his aides and courtiers mingling (as no doubt he’d commanded them to). All at once, she felt quite hopeless—Kylo would find the girl, seduce her, bring hope to the life she had, and then get bored of her. Another game to amuse himself, once again uncaring of the effect false hope had on a life.

Leia quietly clenched her fist, feeling the pressure of her fingernails against her palm. She breathed hard. Calmed, she tried again. “That girl, in the yellow dress. Please… make sure to look after her.”

Han sighed.

“I’ll try. That’s all I can do.” A glimmer of a smirk appeared on his lips. “Princess.”

Despite herself, despite her better judgement, she smiled.

“Thank you, Captain.”

She went to join her lady-in-waiting.

#reylo #rey x kylo #rey x kylo ren #rey x ben solo #reylo fanfic #eleanorwrites #this will be updated weekly btw - hopefully on the weekends #if i remember to do so

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theysparked · 1 year

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No hate but I was wondering why you spell it as 'Dyn' and not 'Din'?

lmao you're good, it's not the first time I've been asked this, and I've been writing our beloved tin can since s1 before we got a name for him - there was a period of time where everyone was guessing how to spell it once we did get a name bc the official spelling hadn't been released and wasn't for a while. 'Dyn' was the most popular version of his first name and I went with it because I thought it was dope and kept it after we got the official spelling. 'Din' just didn't feel right to me after that idk.

#i remember when people were spelling his last name as jarren #askldaksndaksn #you'll see me use din when i'm referring to /other/ mando muses #bc i know everyone else uses the canon spelling #and i'll use dyn when referring to mine or the shows #i've been here since the ye olden days and i'm set in my ways alskndlaksn #* &. you've got mail. / answered asks #* &. ben solo stan first human second. / out of character #* &. little grey gremlins. / anonymous

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onewomancitadel · 1 year

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I was trying to find the posts I wrote about preserving Cinder's key character traits whilst she still goes through a redemption arc (which notably the show has already done really well with its characters lol) and rereading through my Cindemption tag I am literallyyyy just nodding and agreeing with my reflection in the mirror.

I didn't want to repeat myself that you don't have to fundamentally compromise or overwrite a villain's entire personality; it is actually much more interesting seeing the moral change coupled with their personality. Cinder can still be little a mean, as a treat

Above all, I think it rejects the notion that 'you have to keep them evil to keep them interesting' which is a common attitude I see expressed in redemption arc discourse. Virtue is interesting and unique and exciting, and so is change and redemption, but they're still them. You can keep the sense of mischief and inventive problem-solving and melodrama and danger: it's just a question of asking how that prefigures into a reoriented perspective. Which to be fair is much harder than just writing Someone Who Knows How to Make Good Decisions Now, with a side of archetypal bleeding. I want to see what it's like for the woman who thinks arson is a solution to her problems to use that for a force for good.

#cindemption #nodding and agreeing with my reflection in the mirror #my favourite tag <3 #I remember a specific issue I had with fanon was that Ben Solo becomes a smug prick and not Kylo Ren at all. Just some smarmy smuggler #whom I don't recognise. I guess Han Solo 2.0 and less embarrassing than Crylo Ren #and I hate it very much thank you

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burningblake · 1 year

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Drawing Ben Solo - Progress Day #1

#I haven't drawn a portrait in years #I literally recovered this hobby because of my new obsession lol #let's hope I remember my process #art #fanart #ben solo #star wars #wip #work in progress #sw #drawing ben solo #rip tros visual dictionary #artists on tumblr

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scooterpengie · 9 months

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This might just be my favourite thing I've ever drawn 😭

I can't lie I'd actually been meaning to draw Kylo Ren with Miss Heed anyway (the fact that they're both my favourite and have such different aesthetics amuses me) but this trend gave me the perfect opportunity!

Alternate version:

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clqoo · 8 months

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thinking thoughts and using my silly little brain to think about ben solo and how this upcoming movie is probably gonna ruin my life and lead to me rewriting the entire trilogy the way people were rewriting harry potter in 2020

#do you guys remember that #Were you there for that #Dracotok of 2021 #the reality shifting #The Etsy candles you could get of characters #I want that with Star Wars so bad #I also miss my Remus Lupin era #I love Ben solo so much dude #ben solo lives #ben solo deserved better

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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marlenesluv · 1 year

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۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. slight readerxlandonorris

۵type: social media au

۵authors note: i’m super excited to continue this! i’m hoping it will be a little series :) also, the picture for the series has my main blog name but i’m too lazy to change it lolz.

۵warnings: slight language

۵summary: y/n albon and her partner seem to have a little fall out…how will her fans and friends react?

۵this is part 2! please read part 1 before this (it’s my work, just on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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y/n.albon: solo practice mornings 🩰

view comments…

user9: no ben…?

↳ user2: he’s been kinda absent as of lately…

lilymhe: you look like an angel

↳ y/n.albon: i love you more than i love alex

↳ alex_albon: excuse me??

user5: the bell jar? someone cooked here

user3: solo???

landonorris: i’ll just come to your studio and keep you company!

↳ y/n.albon: yeah, you can not do that. my ballet instructor would literally kick you out

↳ landonorris: oh😟

user8: anyone else notice that ben hasn’t liked any of y/n’s recent posts?

↳ user6: yeah, i noticed that too!

↳ user8: kinda suspicious since they usually always like and comment on each others posts…

………………..

bensinstgram

liked by destinyyy and 251,007 others

bens.insta: a day with my love 💓

view comments…

destinyyy: i love you💓

↳ bens.insta: i love you more💓

user4: wait a damn minute…..

user7: y/n and ben practiced everyday together since they were 16, and he stops to go on a date??

f1updatepage: oh boy, drama is upon us, folks

↳ user2: you got that right

user9: ben ditches y/n for his gf and lando said he would come over to keep her company? idk. i wish lando was a ballet dancer fr

↳ user1: LMAO SAME. he seems much more reliable

user0: this is some crazy shit right here

user7: so..are y/n and ben partners, orrrr?

↳ user8: they didn’t say they weren’t, but here ben is, posting his gf when he should be at the studio?

………………..

yourinstagram story

seen by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 789,024 others

…………………

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updatepage • 5hr

Y/N Albon has recently posted her solo practices on social media, leaving fans speculating. Her ballet partner of 8 years, Ben, went on a date while she was practicing. Fans believe that Ben and Y/N might have stopped being partners since Bens girlfriend, Destiny, came into the picture. What do you think?

↳ Y/N FanPage @y/n4lifeee • 5hr

I think Y/N deserves a ballet partner who she can rely on😭 If Ben actually left because of his girlfriend, that’s not only rude to Y/N, but stupid. They are amazing together, but whatever. His call I guess.

↳ Ferrari Fans @ferrariclassics • 5hr

Ben is a piece of shit. That’s what I think😙

↳ Carlando Babe @carlandocontent • 4hr

We should just wait for Y/N or Ben to speak out about whether they are partners or not. Speculating does no harm, but it’s just a never ending circle of ‘what if’s’.

↳ Albon Siblings!!! @albonsibsupdates • 4hr

As much as I like Ben and Y/N as a duo for ballet, I don’t like when Y/N has to solo practice. She deserves the best, not some half-assed guy who’s too busy with his gf.

………………….

landosinstagram

liked by y/n.albon, charles_leclerc, and 389,240 others

tagged: y/n.albon, charles_leclerc

lando.jpg: grid party🍾

view comments…

user8: y/n is at party with the grid??

↳ user2: this is suchhh a slay

flupdates: this wasn’t on my bingo card but i’m living

y/n.albon: last night was sm fun

↳ landonorris: do you remember anything?

↳ y/n.albon: ummm.. next question

alex_albon: ive never seen my sister so shit faced

↳ lilymhe: i have

↳ y/n.albon: omg lily

↳ alex_albon: wdym, lily?

↳ lilymhe: uhhhhh jk

user4: lily exposing y/n time

user7: HELP😭 who’s pouring champagne in y/n’s mouth💀

↳ user6: looks like kika LMAOOO

user1: i love how close y/n is to the grid

………………

bensinstagram

liked by destinyyy and 190,377 others

bens.insta: hi, guys! a lot of stuff has been going around on the internet and i wanna set some things straight. first of all, yes, i have officially quit ballet. but it has nothing to do with y/n and all to do with the fact that i am just not as in love with the sport as i use to be.

secondly, please keep my girlfriends name out of your mouth if you are going to bad talk her. she’s done nothing wrong.

lastly, i really do wish y/n the best with ballet. she’s very talented and i know she’ll make it far. that being said, no, we don’t have any communication as of late. things have been said that we both regret. i hope you all understand.

*comments have been disabled on this post*

………………

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 1,012,004 others

y/n.albon: i suppose it’s my turn to speak about this. ben posted last night about him quitting ballet, which is obviously a fact. it sucks that i’m loosing a partner i’ve been doing ballet with for 8 years, but that’s life. friendships were made, but new ones can be made. friendships were also torn down. it’s unfortunate, but the ball was not in my court. i regret not a word that i said to ben. ending these types of professional relationships sucks, but that’s what it was. professional.

view comments…

user3: QUEEN SPOKE FAX AND KEPT HER COMMENTS ONNNN👏

alex_albon: so glad you spoke your part. you’re an incredible sister. me and lily love you

↳ y/n.albon: aww, i love you both too

landonorris: sorry about ben. should i bring pizza or indian for when i come over?

↳ y/n.albon: indian pls!

↳ alex_albon: you’re going over to her house??

↳ alex_albon: why is no one answering my texts???

user7: i frankly don’t gaf about ben. i’m more invested in the fact that lando and y/n are hanging out without the grid

↳ user1: REAL. like, plsss i need content

charles_leclerc: you’re an amazing dancer, you’ll find another partner!

↳ y/n.albon: ty charles!!!

f1updates: “i regret not a word i said to ben” and ben said “things have been said that we both regret.” like ben, babe, that’s embarrassing for you

………………..

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updatespage • 1hr

Quick update about Y/N Albon & Ben:

Both have made posts on the situation and announced Bens leaving in ballet. We wish Ben well.

Another side note that people have picked up on, is Landos comment on Y/N’s Instagram post. The comments insinuate that they are hanging out together without the grid in Y/N’s apartment.

Comments have been disabled on this Tweet in respect for privacy of Ben!

*comments have been disabled*

………………….

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris #alex albon sister #smau #instagram au #lando norris insta au #platonic f1 grid #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

1K notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 month

Text

Lost on You - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: We’re going deeper and darker on this one, with an ending you might not expect...

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. TW: attempted sexual assault (not successful), violence, character death, drug use, and a twist.

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Part 5: Eminence Front

Your last conversation with your mother was on a Sunday morning, in hospice.

You sat at her bedside and held her hand. Chris and your father were downstairs in the hospital food court, ordering sandwiches. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for three days.

“I had your father call the whole family so they could watch the music video with you and Soldier Boy,” your mom said. She wore a proud, if weak smile. “He even recorded a few tapes of it. He sent one to your aunt, another to your cousins, and another to our friends Leah and Stan.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal piracy, Mom,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t care. You’re my daughter, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get here,” she said. Her eyes misted over a bit in memory. “We’ve all worked hard.”

You stilled at that. You didn’t know what memories she had filtering through her head, but you were sure your perspective behind the lens was…different.

In your mind’s eye, you saw yourself at twelve years old. Chris had been pestering you all day, as big brothers were wont to do sometimes. With a slap on his arm, you’d screamed at him to leave you alone.

He didn’t speak to you for a whole month. He didn’t go to your piano recital or your choir concert, where you had the best solo. He didn’t talk to you until you touched him again, grabbing his arm, pleading with him.

"Please, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Just talk to me!"

He startled as if he’d woken up from a dream.

Your parents had shared a look, and they’d known then that their gamble had worked.

You remembered being sat down by your mother and told that they had spent their entire life’s savings to make you a hero. So you were going to spend the rest of your young life training to be one.

“We’re investing in your future, but we’re also investing in ours.”

You remembered sleepover invites rejected and summer plans canceled on your behalf. Your mother used her meager retirement fund to sign you up for vocal lessons from a former opera singer. Your high school football coach father drilled you to condition your body like an athlete.

You never had a moment that wasn’t scheduled. You were always exhausted, taking whatever “supplements” your parents gave you to keep you going. (Often it was Adderall, until it started giving you insomnia, among other delightful side effects.)

You were miserable. Then again, you’d be surprised by what you could get used to.

The end goal was always getting into Payback. It was where you’d garner the most fame and make the most money, and therefore, make the most returns on your parents’ investments.

So your father later took out a loan to get you some basic combat training from an ex-Vought employee. Your parents wanted you to be well-rounded and prepared for anything when you got onto the team—and it was always when.

If was not part of the story.

Any small commercials and modelling gigs you landed throughout middle school and high school helped pay for your family’s bills, and later for college, where you double majored in Vocal Performance and Marketing. You would learn how to become your own brand.

Through it all, you always remembered what your mom had said to you on the set of your first commercial. You were crying because the hours were long and you missed your friends, and even your brother.

“Come on, let’s wipe those tears. You don’t want to smudge your makeup,” she’d said. When you couldn’t be consoled, she guided you over to a quieter corner of the set. “Listen, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you upset. You'll get a reputation for being difficult to work with.”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said, sniffling badly as you scrubbed at your eyes. Your mother sighed sharply.

“You’re just starting out. Of course there are going to be growing pains,” she said. “Showbusiness is a cutthroat world, and yes, you’re so young. Maybe too young.”

She wiped your face with gentler hands, then she laid them on your shoulders and made sure you met her eyes.

“But you’re going to be better prepared than most superheroes. You can literally read men. You know what’s in their hearts, and you can control them. As a woman in this world, do you know how damn powerful that is?” she said.

She squeezed your shoulders.

“That’s why you’ll be smarter than any of them, and you’ll only show the world what you want them to see.”

What you want them to see…

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” you said at last.

Your mom nodded and stroked your hand. Her eyes fell closed in rest. She looked so small and frail in her bed.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” she said. “Always remember that.”

Your lower lip trembled, and your eyes stung. You couldn’t help but feel hollow. What was there to be proud of? You’d failed. All your hard work was meant to give your family a better life, not…this.

“You’re so beautiful and talented,” she continued. “And you’ll get your father out from under these medical bills I put on him, won’t you?”

Deep in your soul, a painful ache twinged.

You ignored it and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take care of Dad, don’t worry.”

Your mother died the next morning. You wrote a statement about her passing to explain your absence to your fans. It went through Madelyn Stillwell and Arthur before they released the press release and even had it covered in Vought News. Then you spent the next week entrenched in funeral arrangements with your father and brother.

When you eventually returned to Vought Tower after the funeral, it felt like another part of you had chipped off.

Your room was filled with flowers and gifts from your fans, which managed to make you wide-eyed, and even tearfully touched. So this was the power of fame, then?

But there was one vase filled with beautiful scarlet roses. Attatched was a handwritten note:

Welcome home.

You thought you recognized the scrawl. A small smile graced your lips.

You gave into the desire to venture up to the penthouse floor, and knock on Ben’s door. He opened it himself. He was dressed down for once in the afternoon, in a normal sweater rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his slacks. Once he saw you, he was a little surprised.

You held up the note for his view. “Was this you?”

He smiled slightly, but he didn’t answer you. He just welcomed you inside. You followed him into the living room area and sat heavily on the couch. An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request.

While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

You accepted the glass he handed to you and took a generous sip, though you coughed at the burn on the way down. And you took a puff, the smoke irritating your throat even more. You practically coughed up half a lung, until he sat down beside you and reached out his hand. You passed the blunt back to him. You two traded off hits until it was more than halfway down to the roach, and he eventually put it out on the ashtray.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said.

You turned to him. Even in your “enlightened” state, you could feel his intentions. The way he roamed your body with his eyes was unmistakable, but just then, you had a moment of clarity. You couldn’t be bothered to play this game, or hide your true thoughts for that matter. You smiled to yourself, and you stood.

Ben got up with you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Thank you,” you said, “for finally showing me who you really are.”

His lips slowly pulled into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“My mom died,” you said. “I know you knew that, but you couldn’t even muster up a basic ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ or whatever the fuck.”

You even laughed through the spark of tears. You wiped at your face. “This place is exactly what I thought it would be.”

The man was silent while you finished the drink in one long gulp. You slammed the glass on his counter, and you left his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time Ben watched you walk away from him, but despite his outward stoicism, it was the first time he felt the sting of it.

You knew it would be difficult at Vought, but you were finding it more and more challenging to keep focused as the months went by.

On one mission, Ben threw a man out of a three-story apartment. He lived, by some miracle, but shattered almost every bone in his body.

On another, Black Noir choke-slammed an escaped convict so hard, her esophagus caved in. And it was a good day if the TNT Twins even zapped the right culprit.

You were increasingly wary of the collateral damage and violence you were being complicit in, just by being there. You had to keep reminding yourself of why you were here. You needed to take care of your father, who was still swimming in your mother’s medical bills and funeral costs. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do this, with or without Ben’s help.

Even so, a day you were called to a full team mission made you more anxious than excited.

It was a drug ring that the police had been trying to dismantle for nearly a decade: Los Reyes. They were the "kings of cocaine," and they were brutal in their retaliations, locked in a turf war with one of the Italian mafias. As Stan Edgar had explained, the police were grateful for any help that Payback could provide.

You guys were sent to a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen. According to law enforcement intel, it was the base of the Reyes gang's operations.

Infiltrating it was the easy part. Countess blasted right through the front doors, revealing your entire team to the group of men huddled around entire tables and crates filled with product.

When a man aimed a gun at you, Ben threw his shield. It hit the man, who then crashed into a support beam and broke his back in half. Your eyes went wide in horror at seeing his lifeless ones. You gaped up at Ben.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked in alarm.

"Would you rather get shot?” he said coolly.

The others picked off a few men in the room, but the rest of the gang scattered into other rooms within the large building. Ben barked commands for who should go in which direction.

“Sirena, you’re with Swatto. Head east towards the alley and cut off any rats,” he commanded.

You wanted to take issue with being partnered with Swatto. You glanced over at him. After how you compelled him a few months ago, he still had a grudge against you as well. But you two knew better than to argue with Soldier Boy on a mission.

You and your partner ducked out the east side into the alley. Sure enough, you saw blood splatters on the wall from a handprint, and drips of blood leading down the concrete path. After sharing a nod, you and Swatto followed the line of blood.

You turned the corner into a dusty construction site, where a new skyscraper was only partially built. Some walls were up along with the foundation, but it was mostly dirt, bare concrete walls, and piles of brick.

When you turned a corner, you and Swatto stopped short as bullets rained your way.

“Oh, fuck!” Swatto shouted. He pulled out his gun and decided to fly above. You heard more shots and men screaming, and then, it was quiet. You cocked your own gun, though you hoped you didn’t have to use it. The problem with your powers was you needed to be close enough to touch someone to actually compel them, man or woman.

Your last resort was your actual siren song, a power you rarely used. Mainly because it was lethal to any man who heard it. For that reason, it had to be your in case of emergency break glass tactic.

So you crept around the corner to see what Swatto had done. You were surprised to find that he fought well. He managed to kill a few of them, but one large man was still alive. He was on his knees in the dirt with his hands folded behind his head.

“See? Ain’t so fuckin’ tough now, huh?” Swatto taunted. “Get ready to get fucked in the ass in jail, Paco.”

You grimaced in disgust. “All right, that’s enough. Just—”

Before you could realize what was happening, the man raised up from the ground and swept the gun from Swatto’s hands. It flew across the clearing and hit the wall, setting the gun off. A bullet ricocheted and grazed Swatto in the side.

“Aw, fuck! I’m fucking hit!” he yelled in alarm. His wings expanded from his back, and he raised off the ground in flight. Your eyes widened.

“Where the hell are you going?” you shouted.

“I’m hit! I need a hospital!” His voice grew smaller as he flew away like a fucking coward.

It left you alone with a man twice your size. He seized you up with a smirk.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “You’re the new one, right?”

You raised your gun and fired, but you were too late. He evaded and grabbed the gun from your hands. You held your ground after the first punch, but the second and third made your legs shake. You were more durable than the average human, and you were well trained. Unfortunately, you didn’t have super strength like most of your teammates.

You blocked when you could and gave blows of your own, but this man was large enough that it didn’t slow him for long. He wore a sweatshirt with long sleeves, so you couldn’t easily compel him with a touch.

Okay, this warrants an emergency, you thought in alarm. When you opened your mouth to sing, he shot out a sharp blow to your throat. Maybe he thought you were going to scream for help, but it had its intended effect of choking you into silence.

He grabbed you and proceeded to beat you down, until you felt the sharp breaking of ribs and blood and dirt in your mouth. Every time you tried to slip away or get to your feet and escape, he knocked you back down. He was toying with you, and having fun with it too. You could sense his sick enjoyment.

But then, you felt his intentions shift. Darker, and more carnal. A more intense fear coiled in your stomach, rising up into your throat. A gasp got stuck there as you tried harder to crawl away.

He grabbed your ankle and dragged you back towards him. He took your wrists when you tried to claw at his eyes, or even just touch his face to try and enforce your power over his.

Just a scrap of skin. That’s all you need.

A whimper escaped you as you struggled, but you kneed him hard between the legs. That managed to stop him for a moment as he grunted and cursed. He got a hold of a meaty hand around your neck. Your eyes glowed in desperation.

Suddenly, the man’s weight lifted off you.

You panted for breath and raised yourself up on your elbow. You watched with wide eyes as Ben slammed your attacker’s face into the dirt until he couldn’t breathe. Ben glanced at you, taking in the sight of your bloody face and cut lip, your arm wrapped around your battered ribs.

His frown deepening in displeasure, he bent the man’s arm until it broke in at least two places. His howls of pain echoed into the night. Ben cut it off by twisting the man’s neck, until it released a loud crack.

He threw the body to the ground in disgust. He barely even wiped his gloves before he stood straighter. Then he went back to you.

“You all right?” he asked gruffly.

You stared up at him with tears shining in your eyes. You tried to answer, but it hurt your throat. It was also painful for you to move your body. You tasted blood in your mouth and knew it had dribbled down your chin.

With a rough exhale through his nose, Ben lowered down and slid his hands underneath your body. You cringed and cried out when he moved you, but you were grateful. You were embarrassed. And you were exhausted.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you folded your arms over your battered middle. You couldn't help but lay your head against his chest.

The rest of the team was waiting at the other end of the clearing, except for Swatto. Even Countess was quiet as she watched Ben carry you out of the construction site.

You spent a couple of days in the hospital. There you were surrounded by Vought security fielding off any journalists or tabloids, and you were accompanied by your dad and brother.

Chris especially was angry for you, not to mention worried, but you tried to hide your pain and reassure them that you would be okay. This was just par for the course when taking down the bad guys.

Yeah, that one sounded hollow, even to you.

You were grateful when you got out of the hospital and were sent back to the Tower. Even so, the doctor had you mostly on bedrest until your ribs healed up. You weren’t proud of it, but you wallowed in your embarrassment and a bit of self-pity while you watched a marathon of Cheers and ate from a box of assorted chocolates. You dug around for your favorites, but you kept getting the weird shitty filling ones.

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came,” sang the TV show theme song. “You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same. You wanna be where everybody knows your name…”

“Bullshit,” you muttered aloud. Such was your grouchiness that you had half a mind to change the channel. This godforsaken sitcom was too damn cheery, no matter how much you loved Ted Danson’s fine, rugged ass.

God. Maybe I do have a type.

That was when a knock at the door threatened to disrupt your solitude.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

You’d now recognize that smooth, deep voice anywhere. Sighing, you closed the box of chocolates and hid them under your pillow before you turned off the TV.

“Come in,” you said.

Ben stepped into your apartment and soon found you in your room. It was the first time he’d ever been in here, and he took a subtle look around. He wore his suit and tactical gear.

“Just come from a mission?” you asked.

He nodded and approached your bed. He smiled slightly.

“Eating your feelings in Whitman’s, huh?” he teased, tapping his nose. He could probably smell the chocolate.

You blushed and crossed your arms on reflex, but you grimaced when the motion made your ribs twinge sharply. You made a sound of discomfort and lowered your arms back to your sides. You shifted in the bed as slowly as you could. You’d been in this position for a while.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m peachy,” you groused. When you looked up at him though, you realized that he hadn't needed to come visit you. He was here of his own free will…and there was something you had yet to say to him. You sighed and met him with sincerity.

“Look…thank you, for saving me,” you said.

Ben inclined his head. He lowered down and sat beside you on the edge of your bed.

“You may not like how I run things here, but this is the way of it,” he said, holding your gaze. “This is the real fucking world. If you’re going to stay here, you need to get with that program, or this place is going to chew you up and spit you out.”

That fell between you two for a moment. The more you turned his words over in your mind, the more you realized that he was right, to a point. If you stayed, this was your life. You couldn’t keep handwringing. You had to be smarter.

“I’m sorry, I’m not looking very camera ready,” you said eventually. You meant it to be joking, but your voice was heavy. “I wouldn’t blame you for averting your eyes.”

You half expected him to make a joke about your black eye and torn lip. But to your surprise, Ben picked up your hand with a kind of gentleness. He raised the back of it up to his lips for a kiss. He gave you a reserved smile.

“Rest up,” he said.

He got up and strode out of your apartment. Not for the first time, he left you feeling unbalanced…and this time warm.

It took a few weeks for you to fully heal. You agreed to do an interview with Jason Carver, the anchor of Vought News. It was a bit intimidating being in yet another studio, and this was live.

The cameras aren’t there. This is just a stage like any other. You’re just…having a conversation, you coached yourself. You sat in an uncomfortable leather chair across from Jason at his desk.

When he got the green light from the producer, he kicked off the show by introducing you as his special guest.

“Can I just say, Sirena, we’re all very glad to see you’re all right,” he said, with a very convincing note of sincerity. Your abilities allowed you to read the truth.

Only show them what you want them to see.

You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Jason. I appreciate that. It’s just…hazards of the job description, you know?” you said. “But I’m doing much better, and I’m very thankful that my team was there to support me.”

“Yes, the rest of Payback really stepped up to not only apprehend your attacker, but round up the entire Reyes gang. Is that right?” he said.

You nodded, reading the teleprompter. You were meant to go on a mini monologue about how great your team was, and how grateful you were to be a part of it. It was a script approved by Madelyn, and even Stan Edgar.

You paused, glancing over to where Arthur and Madelyn stood in the dark with the rest of the crew. They were both looking at you encouragingly, but expectant.

You took a steadying breath, and you decided to go a bit off-script.

“Well, actually, it was Soldier Boy who saved me,” you said. Jason’s brows rose at your shift in direction, but he reacted with all due interest.

“Really?” he prodded.

“Yes, he did,” you said. The memories of that night filtered through your mind with harrowing detail, including the way Ben stepped in and brutally handled that man. “He didn’t even hesitate. He just threw himself into the fray…and when it was over, he carried me to the hospital himself.”

That part wasn’t exactly true. He’d carried you over to a Vought-owned SUV, and the director of the camera crew drove you over to the hospital. You decided to gloss over that detail, and many others.

“Wow,” Jason said. He shook his head in wonder. “He truly lives up to the legend, doesn’t he?”

You smiled. “He’s more than that. Believe it or not, Soldier Boy was the first one to take me under his wing. He knew I was new to the city, so he guided me all over New York to see the sights like a tourist. Stuff I’m sure he’s seen millions of times, like Top of the Rock and Times Square. Oh, and he was also very gracious when my nephew came to visit. Got me some major brownie points for ‘Best Aunt in the World.’”

That earned you a congenial smile from your host. Your expression faded with a kind of weight in your heart.

“Ever since I got here, he’s been the one to tell it like it is, with that deep, authoritative voice of his,” you said, laughing a little when you tried to imitate Ben’s voice. It got you a laugh, even from those in the studio. “In a way, he’s the one who’s looked out for me the most. I’m very grateful for Soldier Boy, and of course for the rest of my team.”

When you finished, Jason nodded and clapped along with everyone else in the studio.

“Well, that’s just wonderful. Well said,” he said, and he looked straight into the camera with two fingers poised at his temple. “Soldier Boy, if you’re watching, we all appreciate you. And we salute you.”

Ben watched the clip from his living room with a small, incredulous smile on his face.

He wiped the remnants of white powder from his nose and sneezed. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes, he refocused on the screen while you talked about him. He knew you had to be playing it up for Jason and the cameras, but you also seemed so sincere.

“He’s more than that.”

After the segment was over, he enjoyed the climax of his high while sitting back on his plush sofa. He tossed up an old baseball from his collection up towards the ceiling, this one signed by Babe Ruth. He caught it when gravity pulled it back down towards his face.

That was how Donna found him when she let herself into his apartment. She was out of her suit and wearing a little red dress, one of his old favorites. She graced him with a sultry smile.

“Busy?” she asked.

“Evidently,” he said.

She pouted, almost like a little girl. She went to him and curled herself under his arm and against his chest, draping a smooth thigh over his.

“I miss you,” she purred.

He smiled wryly and turned off the TV.

“Really now?” he drawled. “Because by my calculations it’s been…what, a few months since we’ve fucked?”

Donna paused, the smile slipping from her face.

“And I’m not counting that hand job a couple weeks back. That shit was pitiful, and a little chafing,” he said.

For the past few months, he’d been wracking his brain to remember what it was that had attracted him to this woman, besides the obvious outer packaging. He knew the difference now.

In the beginning, she idolized him. Worshipped him. Loved him. These days, she only came to him when she wanted something, and he had gotten bored. Bored of her.

As if sensing his shift, Donna moved her leg off his lap and sat up with a frown.

“Well, then let me fix it,” she said, as she slid a hand up his thigh. Suddenly she was all too willing to use those red-painted lips to service him.

Ben couldn’t help but envision those lips as yours, a sinful red, while your mouth did sinful things. He’d gotten off more than once to the thought of it alone, ever since he shot that goddamn music video with you.

So he grabbed Donna’s wandering hand and looked at her coolly.

“Look, for whatever reason, I know you’re not happy,” he said, waving dismissively with his other hand. “Neither of us are. So let’s just stop wasting time.”

Her eyes widened. “What’re you saying?”

Ben’s brows furrowed. “Am I speaking fucking English? It’s time to call it quits, sweetheart.”

Donna’s jaw worked as she fought to keep herself under control. He had a feeling she’d be angry. She always was a little spitfire.

Her body was coiled like a spring when she withdrew her hand from his and got to her feet. She gave him an icy look.

“This isn’t going to last,” she claimed, with a prideful tilt of her chin. “In a month, a week, you’ll get tired of her. And you’ll remember that I’m the one who looks best by your side.”

Ben huffed in amusement before he laid back again. He continued to toss up his baseball.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said dismissively.

Donna let loose an aggravated breath, but she kept most of her reaction inside. She turned on her heel, prideful as ever, and left his apartment.

When her fingers landed on the doorknob, however, she turned back for just a moment. Silence greeted her.

It wasn’t until then that her tears finally bubbled over.

Days later, a knock on your door drew your attention out of pulling on some jeans. You were intending to go on a walk through the city, take some time to get out of the Tower and just be you for a change.

That had better not be Madelyn at the door again. She had chastised you for going off-script at the studio twice already. She made the point that she and Stan had gone over those talking points for weeks, and agreed that framing your rescue as a team effort would cover Swatto as well.

He was still laid up with a broken leg, long after the scrape of the bullet had healed. He was tight-lipped about how he’d broken said leg, but you’d heard from Tommy that he’d shattered it…somehow.

Arthur had smoothed things over about your adlib though. He pointed out that talking positively about Soldier Boy helped the whole team. He was the leader, after all.

So yeah, you hoped this visit wasn’t another passive aggressive dress down from the head of PR. You sighed and went over to get the door. You were thoroughly surprised to see Ben.

And a Ben that was wearing a regular suit, for that matter. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Hugo Boss catalogue, steeped in charcoal gray with a long black coat draped over his arm. Your mouth parted in soft shock, especially when he produced a single rose from behind his back.

You took it with tentative fingers and a blush rising hotly in your cheeks.

“Okay, what—”

“Let me take you out,” he said. “One night. You’ll get to see what it’s like to be with the most famous man in the world.”

What an opening line that was. You sensed he was in full Charm City mode, complete with a suave smile. Yours was more amused, even though you twisted the flower's soft petals lightly on your chin in contemplation.

After a few seconds to think, you gave him a patient look.

“Ben, nothing’s changed for me. I told you, I–”

“Countess and I are done, for real this time,” he said.

Once again, you were taken by surprise—mostly because he was telling the truth. You felt it.

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Recently,” he shrugged. “But like I said, it hasn’t been working for a while. It was a mutual thing.”

You weren’t so sure about that, but…

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself. In fact, it had been half what you’d hoped for when you went off-script. You just couldn’t believe it had worked this well, so soon. As much as you probably shouldn’t, part of you began to feel bad for manipulating him. For lying to him.

But it’ll be good for my career.

“…Okay,” you agreed, glancing down at your plain shirt and jeans. “Just give me some time to change.”

He raised a brow. “How much time?”

You gave him a slightly cheeky smile. “An hour, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He sighed, but he agreed.

“Just don’t keep me waiting all fucking day,” he said.

“Come on. What’s a little delayed gratification?” you teased. Then you gave him a more sincere smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Ben nodded, with some added charm in the look he gave you in return.

You slipped back into your apartment and shut the door. You paused there when a thought struck you.

Shit, now what am I going to wear?

AN: Did you see that one coming?

A lot of darker angst and drama in this one, sorry for that. But I think you may like what's coming up...

Next Time:

You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 6

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