Ben stormed inside the apartment, pissed as ever. He led a team of fucking idiots.

It’s not the first time he’s been angry. You know how to calm him down. You’ve always been the only one capable of calming him down.

That was, until about four years ago.

Two years after you and Benjamin got married, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Ben always wanted a son (and not that fucking cunt Homelander) to carry on his legacy. But when he saw that baby girl… everything was right.

“Daddy’s home.”

He put his key on the little table by the door with a grumbling sigh, right on the little dish your daughter made him at daycare for father’s day a few months ago out of clay.

He looked at the framed picture of you and him at your wedding. God, you were fucking beautiful. You still are.

Next to that picture is one of his happy little family: you, him, and your sweet little girl.

Ben spun around when he felt a little body attack his legs—and he smiled when he saw his little girl.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

The soldier picked up his four year old daughter and carried her to the kitchen, where you were making dinner. He gave you a kiss on the lips before pressing a kiss to your little girl’s cheek.

“Hey, babe…”

You could immediately tell something was wrong, but he was downplaying it around your guys’ daughter, which you were grateful for.

“What’s for dinner?” Ben grumbled, resting his chin on top of your head and wrapping his free arm around you. “I’ve had a bit of a rough day, so it would be great if it was a fuck- sorry, if it was a fantastic, delicious meal from my beautiful wife.”