#(i actually have the final chapters fully written

[queenlua]

HELLO. Perhaps you already read the first 9 chapters of this fic, when I posted them a few months ago? If so: yeah, sorry for that cliffhanger, we're back now babey, and this update features:

🪶 Reyson and Sanaki getting up to some deranged nonsense, 🪶 Naesala having a bad time (natch), 🪶 Leanne gets to DO STUFF (it rules), 🪶 and generally there's more politics, more scheming, more unhealthy coping mechanisms, etc

And if you're new to this fic: HELLO, WOULD YOU LIKE TO READ MY THESIS STATEMENT ON "WHY THE UNIFICATION OF THE BIRD TRIBES WOULD GO VERY BADLY AFTER THE END OF RADIANT DAWN"??? If so, please click away & enjoy. There's some unhealthy Reyson/Tibarn, there's some toxic Reyson/Naesala, there's a bunch of woo-mystic-Serenes-worldbuilding, it's all VERY fun I promise...!

...also, even if you don't care about any of that, you should peep chapter 15 & chapter 16 because @gloamvonhrym did some incredible art for those chapters & i cried & you should Behold Them...!

[generic-sonic-fan]

hehehe have a snippet of the beginning of the Blaze x Omega fic for you all

---

Blaze visited Sonic’s world even when she wasn’t needed, meaning that it was more often than she would care to admit. 

It became a secret indulgence- the words slipped out of her mouth so easily these days. I’m sorry, but the Guardian of the Chaos Emeralds requires me, she’d tell her advisors when nothing immediately pressing was occurring in the Sol Kingdom.

But now, as her flames danced around her, the fury of her soul expressing itself in its purest form, she couldn’t find it within herself to feel guilty. 

The timing of this visit was rather poor- there was no actual impending crisis, so Sonic wasn’t around. Instead, his brother Tails had awkwardly pointed her towards some of Sonic’s other allies who were set to attack one of Eggman’s strategic positions today. 

Shadow the Hedgehog teleported alongside of her and, with a crisp bolt of chaos energy, blasted the remaining robot in the room that she had not yet scalded. He let out a strange ‘hmph’, something vaguely triumphant-sounding, as the metal scrap fell to the floor. Then he teleported off again, likely somewhere deeper within the facility, racing ahead of her as if they were playing in some imaginary competition that he was obsessed with winning. 

Blaze looked back to the entry doorway to see Rouge the Bat fly in and, instead of continuing down the path Blaze had just cleared with her flames, made for the circulation vent in the ceiling above.

“Where are you going?” Blaze shouted.

Rouge only hesitated for a second. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess.” 

Blaze crossed her arms and exhaled, smoke billowing out of her nostrils. Some ‘team’ this was. By the time she looked back, Rouge was already gone. Blaze was alone, surrounded by scrap. 

She tried to remember the actual objective of the mission from the oh-so-short mission briefing. No doubt Shadow knew it, but of course he wasn’t here right now and didn’t seem keen on being followed. Blaze looked around the room to find three doors. She picked one and ran to it. 

The door controls were locked, and a quick few taps on the armored plating allowed her to guess the temperature required for her to make her own entrance. She called on the flames within her, fueling them with her own breath and her rage, before shoving her hands against the metal. 

In an instant, the metal boiled, then vaporized. She pulled her palms apart, sending the scalding metal shards to the sides. Then, with a clench of her fist, she cooled the white-hot metal back down to gray so that she could pass through the new entrance to the halls beyond. 

“YOU BURN THINGS VERY WELL!”

Blaze whipped around and extended her fist, ready to blow a ball of flame towards the source of the robotic voice, before recognition stayed her hand. For his credit, E-123 Omega did not seem surprised by the near barrage.

“AND WITH ACCURACY, IN ADDITION!” 

[crimeronan]

"oh shit, i was just hit with the full plot of a short lumity fic i can set right before the human world arc -- let's jot down the important beats so we have a quick little reference outline :)"

".....maybe it'll be two chapters instead of a oneshot."

[giantkillerjack]

This is how I organize my story notes. I thought the scene titles looked pretty good today

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (4) [Edging]

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The first session begins and Wanda tests how long she can keep you on edge, before seeing how many times you can cum for her.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, edging, orgasm denial, begging, fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), spitting, spanking, restraints

note: So this is the fourth installment and finally we have some well earned smut. The way i'm seeing the chapters from now is a different kink or power dynamic, so if anyone wants anything in particular, just leave it in my asks and i can include it, enjoy <3

The Art of Submission - Chapter 4, Edging

Wanda stood before you, your eyes gleaming up at the redhead in nervous anticipation. Everything about this felt so uncontrollably vulnerable, her fully dressed figure making circles around your body dressed in scarlet lace. Her gentle hands kept brushing against your skin, taking her fingertips across the length of your collarbone, dragging them up along your neck, twirling itself in the strands of hair that hung from your bun. 

“You look so perfect,” she hums, her eyes drinking up the sigh of you, “Just sitting there, all mine.” Her glance notices the way your hands sit perfectly flat against your thighs, all she could think about was how you were perfectly written for her. No experience but knowing everything that she would want based on your writing. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she continues to devour you with her stare.

Wanda glimpses at the untouched plates, then back at you with a sly grin. “Looks like dinner didn’t stand a chance, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your waist. “Guess we got a little distracted.” Her eyes flick down to the table, then back up, dark and commanding. "Why don’t you clear the table, sweetheart? I need the space for something else."

Your hands tremble slightly as you begin stacking the plates, each movement deliberate, almost reverent under Wanda’s intense gaze. Her presence makes every action feel charged, like she’s watching your every move, waiting for you to finish. By the time the table is cleared, your pulse is racing, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air.

"Good girl," she murmurs. "Now, up you go.” You do as she says, immediately, not wanting any accusation of hesitation. She just watches you do exactly what she says, all she can think of is how willing your submission is, how corruptible you could be, your words holding every ounce of your experience. She couldn’t wait to watch you break as you realise the intensity of how the things you write about actually feel. “Spread out for me angel.” Wanda encourages, tapping your thighs as you are lying on your back, hands flush against your stomach. 

Wanda noticed your chest rising and falling, your eyes closed and head tilted back. “Colour honey.” 

“Green.” You say in a shaky rasp, and that same dangerous smile plastered itself over Wanda’s face, her fingers coming straight back to your thighs, tracing shapes against your skin, taking her time painfully slow. 

Wanda steps closer, her presence radiating authority as she leans over you, her gaze sharp and hungry. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “But I want to see every inch of you tremble at my touch.”

Her fingers trail deliberately along your collarbone, igniting every nerve in your body. She reaches up to the ties at the back of your neck, her movements purposeful and assured. “Let's get this off you.” she commands, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

She helps you sit up again, fingers brushing the back of your neck as she deftly unties the knot. “Lift your chin for me,” She instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument so you comply, feeling both exposed and electrified by her authority. 

With a practised motion, she pulls the bodysuit loose, the fabric clinging for a moment longer before it begins to fall away. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how fucking tempting you are,” she breathes, her eyes darkening with lust.

Wanda grips the bodysuit firmly, her fingers brushing your thighs as she pulls it down with tantalising slowness. “Let’s get rid of this completely,” she states, her voice laced with a sultry command.

With one decisive tug, she yanks the bodysuit down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you entirely bare before her. “There we go,” she declares, her eyes roaming over your body with unabashed desire. “Now you’re exactly how I want you—completely vulnerable.” It was Wanda’s turn to be taken aback by the way your body looks completely undressed. 

Her eyes widen as she takes a moment to look at all of you, your body soft, curves accentuated under the warm glow of the light above you. A slow satisfied smile spreads across her lips and her fingers twitch with the urge to touch you. You feel the heat of her palm as it glides along your side, igniting your skin. “Look at you,” Her voice thick with admiration. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Her eyes dark with desire, a primal instinct seems to take over as she leans in closer, her face inches from yours. 

Wanda’s gaze roams up to your face, capturing the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. The contrast of your soft features against your bare skin captivates her, and she can't help but admire how your vulnerability fuels her own need.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” she breathes, her voice low and sultry. She reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering on your cheek, as if tracing the outline of your features. As her hand slides down to your collarbone, her fingertips dance across your skin, exploring the delicate curves before moving lower, brushing teasingly against your breasts. Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her expression of pure lust and delight as she takes in the sight of you, completely vulnerable and inviting. Your nipples immediately stand at the feeling of her nimble fingers grazing them softly. She pinches lightly at your painfully erect buds, making your back arch into her touch, a small panting moan escaping your lips before she lets go of you, a surge of fire shooting through your body as the blood is allowed to flow back to your nipples.

Her attention finally draws towards the pool of arousal that was building between your legs, your skin glistening, slick with desire. Wanda purposefully starts to circle the pad of her finger around your hardened nipple, smirking as she sees your wetness grow at just a few gentle touches. She had tried to drag this out for as long as she could, but the sight of your pussy aching, almost trembling, begging to be touched, she couldn’t help but gather your arousal with her finger. You immediately gasp at the contact, your lips turning in on themselves as you wait. 

She begins to do a similar motion that made you break so quickly last time, tapping the top of your clit in an attempt to make you more sensitive to her touch, making you wish she was drawing tight circles. This didn’t seem to matter, your hips immediately buckling upwards in a desperate attempt to gain some level of continuous pressure. 

“You’re already so sensitive honey,” She breathes, a grin tugging at her lips, “I like my pretty girls to stay still for me,” She states in a commanding purr, “Keep your legs open like this princess.” You nod immediately, doing anything to get her where you want her again.

Wanda reaches back over, watching the muscles in your legs quiver in an attempt to do as she asks. This time, the arousal she gathers is used to form slick circles against your clit, a gentle moan tumbling from your lips as you try desperately to keep your legs apart. The heat was building, your core beginning to weaken as Wanda continued the same pressure, same speed against you. 

“Please, Wanda, I need you inside of me.” You sputter, the motions against your clit reminding you of how empty you were. 

“So eager.” Wanda hums, her middle finger pulling away from your clit, curving around your folds and finding itself waiting at your entrance. She waited a few more seconds before slipping it slowly inside of you. It wasn’t a lot, but the weight it held on your desperate body was unlike anything. You let out a high pitched moan at the feeling of her inside of you, her finger gently thrusting into you, each pump and her finger curled up to meet your spot. 

“God you’re so tight for me.” Wanda exclaims, a deepened smirk on her redhead's face as her index finger works its way inside of you, finding the perfect rhythm and perfect pleasure. She can feel you beginning to tighten even more than before, so her other hand finds the same circular motion around your clit that makes you tremble. Your string of moans had become louder and your chest had begun to rise and fall faster. As your body tightens, on the brink of release, Wanda pulls her hand away. “Not yet princess, I think I need to stretch you out a little more first.” You immediately whimper in frustration, exactly what the redhead wanted from you. 

Without a word, Wanda left the room, leaving you with your legs spread, arousal leaking out of you, your core burning from being left on the edge. She re-emerges quite quickly and you tilt your head up to see what she has done. She was holding some rope and a wand, smaller than the usual type, the type that looked like it would be light enough to stay in place. 

“I need you to stay still for me like I asked you, pretty girl.” Wanda warned in response to your hips jolting upwards from the sight of Wanda’s new props. She ties the rope around your waist, looping it carefully around your thighs, securing the vibrator through the small opening that she’d created. 

She doesn’t turn it on immediately, just watching as your cheeks grow red at your new level of vulnerability. “Hands remain on the table.” She orders before immediately sliding her two fingers back inside of you, creating that same relentless rhythm, but this time you could feel the power she was putting in her wrist. Before you have a chance to react to her fingers, she switches the vibrator on to the lowest setting sending shockwaves through your body. Your body was tensing in an attempt to stay as still as you could, but the vibrations were intensifying everything and you could feel yourself getting closer again. 

She pulls out of you, turning the vibrator off just at the right time. She had become so fine tuned to your body already, noticing exactly when your growing orgasm was just reaching its peak. She didn’t say anything this time, just caressing your thighs and feeling the warmth radiating from every inch of bare skin on show to her. 

She barely gives you a chance to recover, switching on the vibrator to which you immediately gasp and whimper underneath her gaze. This time, she thrusts three fingers into you and you moan pornographically at the forceful stretch around her digits. Your thighs tremble, wanting to close, you move them just an inch but Wanda stops everything the moment you even dare to move them. 

Her fingers dig into your jaw, forcefully grabbing your face and turning it towards hers. “Don’t make me angry angel.” She warns, voice low, dark, laced with a stern desire. The desire in your eyes catching her off guard, she’d been so focused on your body that she’d forgotten your youthful innocence and the way you wanted to please her. She let go of your face, instead her hand wrapping firmly around your throat, squeezing the sides briefly as a distant reminder to stay with your legs openly spread. 

With your little slip up she removes the vibrator from its place, a small whine leaving your lips but you’re met with a squinted look and you immediately fall silent. She goes to untie the rope, but she decides to leave it, liking the way it makes you look. Her eyes were glimmering with satisfaction at the sight of your shaking body. She pulls you to the edge of the table by the underneath of your thighs, your skin fires beneath her hands. She begins to place gentle kisses against your legs, leaving trails of her beige lipstick, the once singular prints becoming a long stretch of paint up your thighs. She places an individual kiss against your clit, feeling your hips buckle upwards so she places her hand on your lower stomach, forcing you to stay still. She could tell you were going to need physical restraints in the future, your incessant squirming causing her issues. 

She starts gentle, her mouth finding your leaking arousal, slowly lapping at your soaked entrance before taking her tongue up the entire length of your slit, stopping just before your aching clit. She allows your clit to be taken between her lips, lightly sucking against your bud and you could barely hear yourself moaning with such passion in the heat of it all. She begins to flick her tongue back and forth over your clit, reaching her hand over to allow for her fingers to gather up some of your arousal as she feels your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your body is hanging on the edge, doing everything you can to not push yourself over the edge. She places one final kiss against your entrance before coming up for a breath. 

“You’re doing so well for such an inexperienced whore.” She growls, her primal instincts taking over, all of your pretty sounds and pathetic squirming making it impossible for her to not allow you to cum over and over, screaming out your name in a gut wrenching attempt to keep ahold of yourself. Wanda moves around the table, allowing her fingers to graze your lips, slowly parting them. 

“Open your mouth,” she commands, her voice low and sultry, sending a thrill down your spine. You hesitate for a moment, the weight of her words settling over you. But the heat in her eyes encourages you to comply. You part your lips slowly, anticipation building as you lean closer, the space between you charged with electric tension.

With deliberate slowness, Wanda brings her fingers to your mouth, the tips glistening slightly as they hover before you. “Good girl. I want you to taste yourself,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. You can’t help but shiver at the authority in her voice, the way it wraps around you like a warm embrace.

She presses her fingers past your lips, the soft warmth of her skin brushing against your tongue. “Just like that,” she murmurs, her breath hitching as you begin to suck gently, your eyes wide with a mix of desire and uncertainty. The taste of you is intoxicating, and as you swirl your tongue around her fingers, you can see the satisfaction blooming in her gaze.

“See how easy it is to submit tp what you want?” she teases, her voice thick with pleasure. Her fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper into your mouth, and you can feel the rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “You’re doing so well, but I need you to beg for it,” she urges, her voice a sultry whisper.

You can feel the tension coiling within you, the need for more bubbling to the surface. “Please, Wanda,” you manage to murmur around her fingers, desperation lacing your words. “I want more.”

A wicked smile spreads across her face, and she withdraws her fingers just enough to tease you, the loss of contact making you whine softly in protest. “I know you want more, baby. But I want you to really earn it. Keep sucking. Show me how much you crave it.”

With that, you dive back in, your lips working hungrily around her fingers, the sensation pushing you further into a state of bliss. Wanda watches you intently, her breath quickening as she revels in the sight of you completely lost in submission.

Suddenly, she thrusts her fingers deeper, the movement swift and demanding. You gag slightly, your throat tightening around her, and your eyes widen with surprise. “That’s it, just like that,” she encourages, her voice low and breathy. “Feel it. Let go of that hesitation.”

Each thrust is deliberate, her fingers stretching you, hitting the back of your throat. You can hear the wet sounds as you try to accommodate her, your body instinctively fighting to breathe. “Don’t pull away,” she instructs, her tone laced with both authority and encouragement. “You’re doing so well for me love. Just breathe through it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to hold back the reflex to recoil, but the thrill of the moment and her praise spurs you on. You look up at her, desperation mixed with a newfound hunger reflected in your gaze. Wanda’s eyes darken with desire, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I want to see you choke on my fingers like my pathetic little whore. Let me know how much you want it.”

You moan around her digits, the sound vibrating through your chest, a mix of pleasure and the instinctive urge to push her away. But you can’t. You won’t. All that matters is her, and the intoxicating thrill of submission that flows through you like fire burning straight to your core. The sound of you gagging around her fingers coated in your own arousal was making Wanda’s legs buckle slightly, but she wasn’t going to stop. Once she’d removed her fingers from your mouth, she spread your saliva over your lips and down your chin, letting you be painted in a mix of spit and arousal, your lips still parted, small pants escaping them. 

She went back to her original position, her shoulders budging between your thighs and instead of taking it slow, her tongue immediately attacked your already sensitive and burning clit. Wanda began to find those circles you loved so much with her tongue, hardening her muscle and getting you closer and closer to the edge, quicker and quicker than the times before. She switches out her tongue for her fingers, “You taste so sweet,” she purrs, a wicked grin on her lips, “And look at you, so pathetic and desperate for me.”

You groan, unable to form any words, your body unable to still itself, your back arching for me. So she dives back in, rough and intense, both her tongue and fingers getting you back to that same brink that you had become so familiar with. Just as you’re about to tip over, she pulls back again, a chuckle emitting from her lips in harmony with your desperate whimpers of pure frustration. 

“If you want it,” She teases, her voice dripping with cruelty as you hang on the edge, “You’ll have to beg.”

Wanda, please... touch me again,” you beg, the words spilling out in a breathless rush, the desperation had taken over any ounce of humiliation you feel at begging like this. “I can’t take it. I need your fingers inside me. I need to feel you just one more time, please!”

Wanda’s lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile, and she tilts her head, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, sweetheart, you want me to touch you? You want to feel my fingers again?” She taunts, her tone sultry, each word dripping with seduction.

“Yes!” you cry out, your desperation rising. “I need it, Wanda! I’m so close, just a little more! I promise I’ll be your good little girl. I’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me again!” You arch your back slightly, instinctively trying to draw her closer, your body aching for her touch.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “You want me to touch you? Beg for it like you mean it. Show me just how much you want it, you can do better than this.” she whispers, her voice a silky promise that sends shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, your heart racing as you feel the weight of her words. “I need you, Wanda, I can't hold back anymore. I want to feel you again; I want your fingers working me up until I can’t take it anymore! I need you to make me feel good please let me come for you.” Your voice wavers, thick with urgency and need.

Wanda watches you intently, her eyes dark with desire. “That’s more like it,” she murmurs, clearly enjoying your pleas. Your body trembles with anticipation, the overwhelming need coursing through you, begging for her touch. You meet her gaze, your eyes wide and pleading, silently begging her to see just how desperate you are. “But don’t be so ungrateful.” Her voice snaps and she leans over again, her nails digging into your chin as she pushes your head up to meet hers. She prises your lips open between her fingers, slowly drawing a long line of spit from her mouth so it lands exactly onto your tongue. She forces your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” She commands, her eyes locked on yours, “Or I’ll leave you here aching for me.”

You comply happily, swallowing quickly, the taste of her sending another wave of arousal through you. She smirks, grabbing your hand and pressing it against her crotch. You breathe slowly, your eyes widening when you feel a hard bulge underneath her trousers. She was already wearing a strap, and she’d been wearing it the whole time. You swallow again, this time with nerves. She’d made you feel fucked out with just her fingers, her stamina relentless against your trembling body. “Just incase my poor baby became ungrateful and I had to fuck it out of her.” 

Your body responds instantly, arousal doubling between your legs. Wanda continues to tease you once more, she barely circled your clit for thirty seconds before you were at the edge again. Begging wasn’t an option anymore, it was a necessity. 

“Pleas-” 

Her eyes flash with a mix of desire and authority, but something shifts in her demeanour. Your pleading seems to reach a breaking point within her. In one swift motion, she grabs your waist, flipping you over onto the table with an ease that sends a thrill through you.

“Enough of this,” she says, her voice low and commanding. You feel the cool surface of the table against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your core. She unzips her trousers, pulling them down and stepping out of them, she was so deep in her own heat now that her grasps against her own trousers were the least controlled out of any. Wanda positions herself behind you, the unmistakable weight of her strap pressing against you, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. “You need to learn to take what I give you and stop complaining.”

As she slides into you, it’s a seamless invasion, filling you completely. A deep, primal gasp escapes you, a mix of surprise and pleasure as you adjust to the sensation. Wanda holds your hips firm, her grip possessive and reassuring, making sure you’re wholly hers in this moment.

“Now, let’s see just how well you can handle this,” she breathes, her voice sultry and filled with authority. With that, she begins to move, her rhythm deliberate and punishing, igniting every nerve ending within you. “Look at how well you take me,” She pants, forcing your body to meet every hard and rough thrust that she piles into you, your body nothing more than a moaning desperate mess. “You’re made to take my cock, it fits you perfectly.”

Wanda continues to roughly thrust into you, but once she snakes her arm around your body, one hand begins to circle your clit, while the other grips the fistful of hair that you’d bundled atop of your head, pulling you body back to meet her movements. You know you’re dangerously close, but you didn’t want to beg again, you were just praying that she’d stop before you had no choice but to cum all over Wanda’s scarlet red cock. 

“Go ahead,” She says, and your eyes widen at the unexpected permission, “Cum for me, but If you do, I’m not stopping.”

Your body obeys instinctively, breaking under the relentless pressure as your climax crashes through you. You cum hard, your muscles clenching, back arching, but Wanda doesn’t relent. Her thrusts only quicken, her grip on your hips tightening with possessive intensity.

“Don’t think,” she growls low in your ear, her voice dripping with control. “Just keep cumming for me. I’ll do the thinking for you.”

The sharp sting of her palm lands on your ass, a slap that reverberates through you, sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine. The sensation tips you over the edge again, your body trembling as another orgasm builds impossibly fast, the intensity leaving you breathless and quaking beneath her. You’d never orgasmed twice in such a quick succession. “Mm, You can cum from just one spank, you’re so pathetic.” She spat at you, pulling out of you quickly, your cunt on fire with sensitivity. 

Wanda flips you onto your back with effortless strength, her movements controlled but purposeful. Her eyes lock on your flushed, tear-streaked face, and a wicked gleam flickers in her gaze. She leans over you, her lips hovering just above yours. “I want to see that pretty face when you break for me,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing gently across your smudged lipstick. Her touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the intense control she exudes.

For a moment, her expression softens as she wipes the mascara-streaked tears from your cheeks, her fingers warm against your skin. It’s a fleeting tenderness that sends a wave of vulnerability through you. Then, without warning, she captures your lips in a heated kiss, her mouth hot and possessive against yours. Her breath mingles with yours as she whispers against your lips, “You’re perfect.”

Her words sink into you, a heady mix of praise and control. You shudder beneath her, the tenderness making you feel even more exposed. Her pace slows as she shifts between your legs, her fingers moving with calculated precision, circling your swollen clit. The sensation burns through you, rising in waves, her touch just enough to push you toward the edge but not enough to tip you over.

“You’re going to keep cumming for me, aren’t you?” she purrs, her voice sultry and commanding. Each word feels like a command you can't refuse, your body already responding to her every touch. “You want to impress me, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, the ache in your core unbearable, every nerve in your body on high alert. A small, satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Wanda’s mouth. “Then thank me. Every. Single. Time,” she orders, her fingers increasing their pressure, drawing tight circles against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

Your orgasm builds, sharp and unstoppable. When it crashes over you, your voice breaks as you gasp, “Thank you,” the words spilling from your lips in a hoarse whisper. Wanda’s eyes glint with satisfaction as she watches you unravel beneath her, but she doesn't stop. Her fingers continue to work you, expertly building you up again. Wanda’s grin grows wider, a mix of pride and control in her expression as she drinks in the sight of you coming apart under her touch.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with praise, her fingers never faltering. She watches every tremor in your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, her gaze filled with a deep, almost possessive satisfaction. “Keep cumming for me. I want you to give me everything.”

You nod frantically, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming intensity, knowing you’ll do anything to keep her pleased. Each time you shatter beneath her, you thank her, your voice growing weaker, more desperate, but Wanda's control over you only deepens, her satisfaction palpable with every broken plea that leaves your lips.

“Colour sweetheart?” She asks in response to your limp fucked out body, you could barely think straight, but you knew one thing, you didn’t want her to stop this ever. 

“Green, so green, oh my god.” Wanda loved the response, gripping your ass and pulling your body up to her face, now balancing your body on your elbows as she holds your pussy up to her mouth. Every single flick of her tongue, every suck that she makes against your clit between her lips was beginning to burn, your body unable to react to any contact anymore.

“It’s okay honey, just one more for me okay.” Wanda coos, feeling your trembling body underneath her harsh grip against your thighs, her nails still digging in, it would definitely leave a mark. “I just want to see you cum against my tongue like my dirty little slut one more time.” She’d become addicted to watching you cum, the way her name would tumble from your lips in a gut-wrenching plea for the session to be over. 

You give it to her, the time between your orgasms had gotten continually shorter, and now even though every part of your body was resisting the harsh swipes of her tongue against your clit, each swirl she took against your arousal, you could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, not able to stop it even if you wanted to. 

When you came, you came hard, Wanda’s name escaping your lips in a scream as your body went into complete overdrive. You couldn’t stop the shaking and the squirming as you writhe around with the intense amount of pleasure that shot through your body. Finally, Wanda lets you come back down, your body trembling with exhaustion. Her touch turns soft, soothing, as she pulls you up into her arms, perching on the table in order to cradle your trembling figure. “Thank you.”

“You did so well for me,” She whispers, kissing your temple. Her fingers undo the bun that was already half out from all the manhandling. Now she can drag her nails through your hair as she holds you, grounding you back after the intensity of the session. She grabs you a blanket from the sofa behind her, wrapping you carefully up like her little present. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart,” She states with confidence, her cheeks glowing as she whispers endless praises into your ear. 

“That was incredible Wands, I really want to be yours, in any way that you want me.” You say honestly, your voice still wobbling as you warmed up under the blanket. “I never want to stop.”

“We don’t have to pretty girl, you will be mine for as long as you wish to be.” She says honestly, placing a kiss against your temple, “You’re proving to be an exemplary little one, hm.” You smile at her praise, snuggling your head into the crook of your neck while Wanda reaches for a glass of water for you. “Rest now baby, I’ll take care of everything.” 

She waits for you to be ready before getting up and setting some pillows down on the sofa for you to finally relax properly, which you immediately take her up on. She hovers around you, not knowing where your limits lie in terms of aftercare, not wanting to break any boundaries. 

“Are you joining me?” You ask innocently, opening up your arm and offering her a place to sit and cuddle into you. She looks hesitant at first, nervous about breaking any of her limits, but the way you’re sat huddled in a blanket, those innocent puppy dog eyes that she couldn’t resist. She sits down next to you, the sofa dipping at the weight and goes to put her arm around you. You push her away, pulling her in and watch as her cheeks flush pink as you squeezed her arm. “Is this okay?”

“I love it.”

[wintersera]

under the moonlight || kim minjeong

pairing: wolf hybrid!winter x fem!reader

! smut smau !

— on a cold winter night you were strolling down the street getting some snacks when you spot a shivering puppy curled up outside. as an empath you felt horrible for the poor pup- now… bringing it back home wasn’t exactly the best idea.

tags: nonidol au, college au, smau, wlw, crack, smut!!!, fluff

cw: smut smau (so yk sex), swearing, offensive jokes, kys jokes, mentions of heat. (more will be added….)

features: aespa, le sserafim (except eunchae), loona (hyeju/heejin/hyunjin), ive (wonyoung/yujin) more idols will might be added….

a/n: so basically if you know the movie twilight- they have their own clique and people just think the wolfies are weird wolf kids, and not actually wolf hybrids. IGNORE THE TIME STAMPS AS WELL-

updates: when i can

status: on hiatus

PROFILES : wolf gang | y/n’s shooters | extras

CHAPTERS :

01. finally touching grass

02. that’s a whole WOLF?

03. poor puppy (half written)

04. fuckass fursuit (half written)

bonus chpt | squirrel??

05. we’re kababayan

06. IM FREE

07. fuck it, we ball (half written)

08. AUTOCORRECT

09. did you lose the pup

10. wolfy is nowhere to be found

11. feeling feelings

12. help me out (half written)

13. first ever heat (fully written)

14. y/n did WHAT?

15. get in the damn bed

16. head fuzzy as fuck

17. round 2 (fully written)

18. we got a family emergency

19. leaving the premises (half written)

bonus chpt | ice cream gone wrong

20. need her need her need her-

21. shits awkward

22. ouch a wall

23. date!

24. scavenging

25. ???

…MORE COMING SOON!!

TAGLIST (closed)

@slowlydifferentbluebird @alcoholfreenayeon @myouiiiiiiii @uzumakioden @nasyu-kookies @earthto-eden @omgcatherine @skydreamed @wonysugar @pupyuj @jisooftme @jeongggiiiee @silentreader98 @rinapomu @1luvkarina @demtions @wintersgff @prkchaeyo0 @haerinkisser @huhyunjinwifey @haerinfangs @pandafuriosa60 @thefckghost @nr1chaedickrider @baebeefyburrito @sighsam @magicalmilkshaketimemachine @jigujellee @seulblade @vlance @jade-jini

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 30

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: Talia is ... not a great mom. Luckily Reader is! Fluff, some hurt/comfort, some big emotions and intense conversations, more fluff, and holiday themed Wayne family shenanigans!

wc: 4.2k

Chapter Selection

 “I don't fully understand what you've done to make that girl so loyal to you, but it is impressive. Well done, Damian.”

Damian breathed slowly, forcing a calm, emotionless exterior. “Mother?”

“The girl who tried to tell me she was ‘just doing Jason a favor by doing his father a favor’ by being your emergency contact at school.” Talia smirked. “Someone obviously warned her about me, and yet she was willing to lie to my face for you. It was almost believable too. Almost.”

Damian stayed very still, hands held behind his back, posture perfect, face blank. Talia observed him, frowning slightly. “What is not at all believable … is you pretending you don't care about her too.”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly; “... I don't know wha-”

“Don't lie to me, Damian. This girl means something to you. What?”

He slowly met his mother's firm gaze; “... She's Todd's girlfriend. She has a bigger heart than is good for her; she is no threat to anyone.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, “... And what is she to you?”

“... She is kind.”

Talia frowned a bit, leaning forward to examine his face for any hint of his true feelings. Moments passed before she pulled back to her full height, a dissatisfied look on her face. “... Be wary of that girl, Damian. Kindness is the wrapping, but what you will actually receive is weakness. … I will allow you to stay, but this is the final straw. Your strange affection for those animals was one thing, but this… If you still wish to live here, you must get yourself under control before I am forced to bring you home for retraining.”

“I understand. I will not disappoint you, Mother.”

She nodded once, looking him over again. “... Bruce is treating you well?”

“Father is good to me.”

“And the others?”

“... They have accepted me as family. … They are also kind.”

She nodded. “... Very well. The League is watching you, Damian.”

He nodded once before she turned to leave. “... Goodbye, Mother.”

Talia finally left Gotham, and Jason and I prepared for Thanksgiving at the manor. Jason's Thanksgiving traditions started the day before, so on Wednesday afternoon we headed over. Alfred invited us in, hugging Jason tightly. We tossed our overnight bags in his room, and Jason led me down toward the kitchen. I brought down two large tupperwares full of ma'amoul cookies I had made for everyone.

Alfred was standing by the counter, mixing something, and Jason and I washed our hands. He took a seat at a large table where there were some washed vegetables. I sat beside him, and he grinned; “ever since my first Thanksgiving at the manor, I've helped Alfred with some of the holiday meal prep work. Mostly cutting veggies and stuff.”

“Cute~” I chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Can I help?”

“If you'd like, but if you want to just sit with me, you can do that too.” He smiled softly.

“I'd like to help. I hate to feel like a mooch.”

Alfred chuckled, bringing over another cutting board and knife. “You could never be a ‘mooch’, dear girl. You are our guest.”

“Thank you, Alfred, but still. If my mother heard I was invited over for the holidays and didn't help with something she'd be incredibly cross with me.”

He chuckled, nodding once. “Very well then. Master Jason knows what needs to be done.”

I nodded, and Jason offered me the bowl of potatoes. “You wanna peel and cube potatoes?”

“Works for me!” I got started, and moments later Dick, Tim, and Cass peered into the kitchen. “... Hi guys?”

Tim frowned, stepping forward and circling me. He seemed to be examining me for something. “... Look at me.”

I frowned, but turned to look at his face. He peered into my eyes, frowning deeply. “... What?”

“... Well, she doesn't appear to be possessed, and she's definitely not a zombie.” He turned to the others.

“What?? What's going on?”

Jason frowned deeply, giving Tim a pointed stare; “explain.”

Dick piped up; “did you really manage to lie to Damian's mother?”

“... I mean, I survived.” I shrugged.

“And she believed your lies?”

“No, she did not.” Damian piped up, entering the kitchen. He pushed a chair close to mine and sat down; “however, she said it was almost believable.”

I froze, clenching my jaw. Fuck. What had I done? “... I- is she taking you away? Jason said she might…”

Damian shook his head, hesitantly squeezing my wrist. “She said I can stay, for now.”

I slowly released my breath, dropping my potato and peeler. My hands were shaking, and my vision blurred. I rested my elbows on the table and pressed my palms to my forehead, trying desperately to calm down.

“… Good…” I barely heard the strained, sharp approximation of the word that I managed to force out. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, and I could feel my heart beating much too fast. My face was hot and wet, and my breathing was strained.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly; “... H- hey, it's ok. She's gone now.”

Jason gently rubbed my back, and I felt Damian shift closer. “... Sister? … Why are you crying?”

I kept trying to control my breathing; “... I … I just can't lose ya, kiddo … i- if she took you away because of me, … I don't know what I'd do…”

A gentle hand pressed between my shoulder blades, and Alfred leaned over me, setting a cup of tea in front of me, along with a soft white hankie. “Breath, Miss. … Miss Talia did not take Master Damian. We will never allow her to take him against his will.”

I slowly nodded and he rubbed my back a few times before stepping away. I shakily reached down for the cup. Dick and Tim awkwardly smiled at me.

“Yeah, what Alfred said.” Tim nodded.

“Yeah, finders keepers - Damian's our problem now, she doesn't get to take him back.” Dick chuckled.

I carefully sipped my tea, smiling weakly. I didn't know how he knew, but Alfred made it exactly how I liked it. Once I set the cup down, Damian took my hand, squeezing tight. I turned toward him, a bit surprised by the determined look in his eyes. “I will never leave you, Sister. I promise... Not unless you tell me to go.”

I sniffled softly and nodded. “I will never send you away, baby brother.”

Before I could open my arms to offer a hug, he leaned in to take one. Dick and Tim stilled, staring like toddlers at the zoo as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tim fumble with his jeans pocket, trying to covertly get his phone.

“Do it and I end you, Drake.” Damian growled softly.

I giggled, stroking his back gently. He pulled back and I reluctantly released him. I saw the boys shift toward the doorway, and I looked over. Bruce smiled awkwardly, and I hesitantly smiled back.

“B, tell me you saw that.” Dick pleaded softly. Bruce nodded once.

Damian scowled, pushing his chair back a bit. I chuckled softly, going to the sink to wash my hands again. “Don’t make a big deal, Dick.”

“But it is a big deal! I mean … seriously, Damian, where did that come from?”

Damian shoved past them to escape the kitchen and his brothers’ questions as I returned to the table, peeling the potatoes in front of me. “And that is exactly why he doesn't usually do that. So, once again, please, don't make a big deal.”

Dick sputtered a bit more as Alfred ushered them all out of the kitchen. As the man headed into the pantry, Jason leaned over to kiss my shoulder; “good job, mama~”

I blushed a bit, hushing him softly. “Jay!”

“What? Damian can't hear me. And you've made it very obvious, you care more about him than his actual mother. I know he insists you're ‘Sister’, but that's just because he knows his mom would lose her mind over being replaced.” He smirked a bit, whispering; “you and I both know, whether we call it that or not, you're being his mama. And you're doing a damn good job of it too.”

I blushed more, smiling into my chest. “... How so?”

“Last time Talia came to check on him, he was withdrawn and broody for a month after. This time she's been gone for a day and he's already socializing with the family. That's all you, ma.”

I smiled softly, finishing cubing the potatoes. “... You're a sweetheart, Jay. But you shouldn't give me credit for his progress. He does the work, he fights for it tooth and nail, I just provide a safe space. Just like I do for you.” I leaned in to kiss him gently; “you both work so hard to heal from your pasts; to be better and do better…”

His cheeks and ears turned pink as he leaned in, whispering; “you make it possible.”

I dried my hands and cupped his cheeks, whispering back; “you do the work. I just make sure you're safe and taken care of while you do it. It is so much easier to sit in your trauma and just accept that that's how things are now. Fighting your demons is painful, and complicated, and incredibly brave. You are fighting an enemy that doesn't tire, doesn't fall back to regroup, doesn't even die. And yet you have pushed them back. You’ve told your demons that they do not own the territory of your mind, you do. You've made remarkable progress, and you should be proud of yourself. Don't ever give away the credit for your victories; they are yours, you earned them. I'm just here to support you in the fight.”

He blinked a bit, hugging me tightly. “... Damn, baby girl. … Ok.”

I smiled softly, tilting his head up to kiss him gently. He sighed happily, kissing back. A moment later, Alfred cleared his throat from behind us.

Jason jumped back, blushing bright red as Alfred spoke in an intentionally calm, measured voice; “if you two are done with those vegetables, I believe the others are starting a movie in the family room.”

Jason cleared his throat, nodding. “Y- yeah, thanks Alfred.”

We brought the veggies over and Alfred offered Jason a bowl of popcorn. He gently gripped my elbow, gesturing for Jay to go, before offering me a small piece of paper. “My mobile phone number, Miss.”

I blinked a bit, taking it. “Oh… thanks. … Why?”

He chuckled; “you said it yourself, Miss. You are here to support them. … Young Miss Barbara and I have been the only members of the support team for quite a while; it will be nice to have a third teammate to work with.”

I smiled softly. “I see. Then I look forward to working with you, Alfred.”

He nodded, offering me a large bowl of popcorn. “Master Bruce mentioned you'll be providing medical care.”

I nodded, gathering the cookies I'd brought before taking the bowl. “That's right, once I have the necessary training.”

“... It is a big job, taking care of the Waynes.”

“It’s not a job to me, Alfred, it’s just love. … The trick is loving people the way they need to be loved. The way they’ll accept love. Jason is … so brave, and kind. He’s good to everyone but himself. He needs someone to be good to him. Someone to tend to his wounds, to chase away the nightmares, and be a safe port in the storm. I can do those things for him. Damian needs space to be a child. Someone he can trust to take care of the responsibilities, and just let him experience being young. And I can do that for him. … It’s not a job to love them, it’s my greatest pleasure. And it’s an honor to be someone they trust, especially when they have been punished so harshly for their trust in the past…”

He smiled warmly, nodding. “Exactly, dear girl. Love is not a mere emotion, or empty words. It is action, and loving the Waynes, loving them well, … it takes a certain fortitude. Fortitude I believe you have.”

“Thank you, Alfred. … I won't let you down.”

“Oh, you mustn't do this for me, Miss. There must be something inside you calling you to serve.”

I chuckled softly; “not to worry, there is. Obviously I love Jason and Damian very much, and the others, … they've all been such good friends to me. I was taught to take care of my friends. … The world is not always the beautiful, bright place we were promised as children. But I know how to make candles. And if my candles aren't enough to push back the darkness, I can make more. If there still aren't enough candles, I will build a bonfire. And if that’s not enough, if the darkness presses in anyway, … I will lasso the sun if I must.”

Alfred smiled at that. “... I believe you would, Miss. … Go now, enjoy the movie.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, Alfred.”

I headed to the family room, taking a seat on the couch between my boys. Damian stared at the tupperwares in my hands intensely. “... What did you bring?”

I chuckled, offering him one of them before setting the other on the table. “This one is just for you, and the other is for everyone to share.”

He slowly opened the tupperware, grinning. “... You … made ma'amoul?”

“You said your mother used to make them for you during the holidays. Your holiday traditions are just as important as the rest of ours.”

He held the tupperware to his chest and leaned against me for a moment, mumbling; “... Thank you, Sister.”

I smiled softly, running my fingers through his hair. “You're very welcome, baby.”

I was woken in the morning to Dick playfully pounding on Jason's door with both fists and singing; “Waaakeyyyy waaakeyyyy! You two better not be nakeyyyyy!”

Jason groaned, grasping blindly at his bedside table. He got ahold of his alarm clock and threw it. Dick cried out, startled, at the noise of it crashing against the door, making me giggle softly. Jay's arms pulled my back against his chest as he grumbled softly; “... Fuckin’ Dick …”

“... Hm ... Think his parents named him that on purpose?”

After a moment of silence, Jason snorted softly, burying his face into my neck. “Dork …. Ughhh, ’s too early… wha' time is it even?”

I chuckled, grabbing my phone to check the time. “... 9am.”

He growled, pulling me closer. “... Mh. … Much too early.”

A soft knock on the door drew a more aggressive growl out of him. I laughed, calling out; “yeaaah?”

“Dick was supposed to get you for breakfast.” Duke called through the door.

“Thanks Duke, we'll be down soon. Start without us, ok?”

“Kay.”

I slowly turned over to face Jason. He sighed, opening one eye. “... Now that's not fair.”

“What?” I frowned.

“You got startled awake just like I did, but you’re already fully recovered and you look like a goddess. Meanwhile I look and feel half-dead.”

I giggled, running my fingers through his hair. “Aw, but you look cute all sleepy like this~”

He grunted softly, blinking slowly. “Oh do I?”

“Very cute. Plus, your voice sounds extra amazing in the mornings~ that's truly unfair.”

He smirked softly, kissing my forehead. “Mh~ ... Let's blow off breakfast. Just stay in bed and cuddle all day.”

I chuckled, stroking down his chest. “But I'm hungry … plus, you know Dick or Steph will come knocking if we're not down there soon.”

He sighed, stroking my hip. “... Yeah … ok, fine.”

We slowly disentangled, getting dressed for the day. Jason had told me family holidays were always a casual-clothes affair at Wayne Manor, thank goodness, so we ended up at breakfast surrounded by sweatpants, joggers, and pj's. 

Dick grinned, already done with his food by the time we came down, and watched us eat. I blinked a bit; “... Dick?”

“Hm?”

“... Ya good?”

“No, I'm not good. You aren't eating.” He frowned.

“You're staring.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “He wants to start on the tree, but we don't start the tree until everyone's had breakfast.”

“... I see. Well, stop staring and I'll eat.” Dick sighed, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

We all finished breakfast, and Dick practically herded the group to the family room. I looked around, frowning a bit. “... Is Bruce not joining us?”

“Ah, he's in the cave…. Bruce doesn't do much on holidays. Especially Christmas, so … he doesn't do this part of Thanksgiving.” Tim smiled weakly.

“... Why?”

“... He misses his parents.”

“Oh. … Well that's super sad.” I frowned.

Dick shrugged. “It is what it is. He'll be up for dinner though.”

I nodded slowly. Dick made us all sit in a semi-circle on the floor around a large pine tree. The tree had been set up at some point in the night after our movie, and I hoped Alfred hadn't been made to lug it in on his own.

“Now,” Dick grinned, surrounded by plastic tubs; “as most of you know, there will be other trees in the ballroom and foyer, for the Christmas gala. But, the family room is our room, and as such, this is our tree. Where the other trees will be elegant, themed decorations, fit for the public eye, this tree, our tree, will be the gaudiest, ugliest, least public-appropriate Christmas tree in all of Gotham! As Bat-family tradition, the youngest present family member will provide the first ornament on the chopping block.”

Damian rolled his eyes affectionately, standing. He approached a tub and removed the lid, selecting a cardboard and construction paper star. It had clearly been a child's craft project; the points were uneven, the glitter was half gone, and there was a small photo of Batman and one of the Robin's in the center. “I present the ugliest ornament in the Wayne Family Collection; made as a present to Father by one Jason Peter Todd for his first Christmas at the manor, age 12.”

There was a round of applause as Damian put the ornament on the tree and Jason bowed dramatically. I giggled, watching everyone take turns presenting their bid for the ugliest ornament in the collection. There were some truly hideous options, and a few I wasn't sure were meant to be kept past the Christmas they were made for. Finally, Dick gestured for me to stand.

“Now, as this is your first Christmas with our family, tradition dictates that you act as our judge.”

“Judge?”

“If you would.” He gestured to the tree. “Which decoration is the absolute worst in the Wayne family collection?”

I looked them over, chuckling softly. “... This is a no hurt feelings contest?” Everyone agreed. “And what does the winner get?”

“Bragging rights, and the offending item is finally thrown away.”

I chuckled again. “I see … ok, well … this ceramic mouse has incredibly unsettling eyes …” Tim pumped his fist. “Buuut, the name of the game is ‘ugliest’, not ‘unsettling’, so … I think I will give it to Cass.”

I pointed to the popcorn garland Cass had put up. What little popcorn remained was mostly flattened, and had been spray painted white and yellow, creating a poor illusion of fresh buttered popcorn. Cass smirked, bowing while the others groaned and clapped.

“Thank you for your service to our family, Judge.” Dick shook my hand, grinning. He ripped the ‘garland’ off the tree, dramatically handing it off to Cass who threw it in the trash. “I hereby declare this tree ready to decorate!”

We spent the afternoon eating snacks, watching seasonal movies, and taking turns adding ornaments, lights, and other decorations to the tree. Periodically Dick went up and rearranged things, he was apparently unusually particular about ornament placement. By the time we were done, it had the strangest assortment of decorations I had ever seen. Craft projects, tinsel, lights, vintage, modern, every color and theme imaginable, it was all there! It was everything Dick's speech had promised; ugly, gaudy, and not at all something the public would expect to see at Wayne Manor.

Once our movie was done, Dick called us all back to the tree. He made a few more adjustments, circling it slowly. “Well done, team! This is by far the ugliest tree we've ever done! You should all be proud of yourselves for your efforts. … But, it's not complete just yet.”

He pulled out a selection of velvet boxes and opened the first one. “Let's see … looks like Duke is first this year!”

Duke grinned and took the box, popping out a glass sphere ornament, about the size of his fist. It had a pearlescent finish, and his name painted on it in black in an elegant cursive font. He found a spot for it -one of the spots Dick had so carefully constructed during his ornament rearranging all afternoon- and sat back down. Dick opened the next box, and Stephanie was called up to put an identical ornament, this one adorned with her name, on the tree. One by one everyone put up an ornament with their name on it, until there were four boxes left.

“As we all know, Babs is with her dad today. She will add her ornament when she visits tomorrow. Alfred will be in after dinner to add his, and Bruce will come in when he's feeling up to it. … So, that just leaves…” he held a box out to Jason; this one was adorned with a red bow.

I tilted my head, curious. Jason had already put up his ornament. He turned to me, beaming, and offered me the box. “This one is for you, my love.”

I blushed bright red, slowly taking it from his hand. I popped it open, and there it was; an ornament, identical to all theirs, with my name painted in a swirling cursive font.

“I … I don't know what to say …” I blinked, trying desperately not to tear up.

Tim chortled; “oh no, we broke her!”

Damian shushed him, scooting closer. “You don't have to say anything, Sister. Just put your ornament on the tree.”

I chuckled softly, carefully removing it from its box, and stood. Dick helped me find an empty spot for it, and I delicately hung my ornament. He grinned, offering me a tight hug. “Welcome to the family, little sister.”

I got a glass of water before heading up to bed. Dinner had been incredible, we'd played some games, and the house was finally settling in for the night. I put my glass in the sink and made my way up the stairs, going down one hallway and then another, slowly making my way toward Jason's room.

“Father?” I heard Damian’s soft voice around the corner.

“Yes?”

“... Do you know any lullabies?” I could barely hear the whispered words.

“Of course?….”

“... Ok.” After a brief silence, Damian walked briskly past me, staring at the floor in front of him. Bruce turned the corner and watched him go, a confused look on his face. We made eye contact and I hesitantly smiled.

“... Bruce, can I ask you something?” Damian’s door snapped shut at the other end of the hall.

He sighed; “... yes?”

“What did Damian just ask you?”

“If I know any lullabies.”

I shook my head; “those are the words he used, but … that’s not what he was asking.”

“Fine, why don’t you tell me then, since you’re so smart? What was my son asking?” He snapped.

I bit back the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. This was for Damian, I had to be gentle; “... As I’m sure you know, Damian struggles to request things. He’d rather die than suffer the humiliation of asking for something he desperately wants if there’s any chance he’ll be denied. Most especially when he views his desires as childish, or inappropriate. It’s much easier for him to ask a question that is designed to guide you to make an offer. … So, when he asked if you knew any lullabies …” I trailed off, hoping to let Bruce fill in the blanks.

He frowned deeply; “... he wanted me to offer to sing one?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Exactly.”

“... He’s fourteen…”

“When he was a baby, his mother taught him to kill. She gave him no chance to be a child. Now, here, he is allowed to be whatever he wishes. It is perfectly rational, healthy even, for him to seek the childhood experiences he didn’t get at the traditional ages. And seeking them from you implies that he views you as a safe person to be vulnerable with.” His shoulders fell as he sighed. He looked so defeated. “… It’s not too late Bruce, why don’t you go prove him right?”

Bruce blinked a bit and nodded, rushing toward Damian's room. He stopped beside me to mutter; “... Thank you.”

I smiled softly, looking up at him. He seemed so unsure of himself; like a new father worried about holding his baby wrong. “You’re welcome. … Go take care of your son.”

He smiled a bit and went to knock gently on Damian’s door. I continued down the hall to Jason’s room, knocking before I slipped inside.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11

[dukeofankh]

Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

[heartschampion]

september 30th — ethan landry

PAIRING. ethan landry x fem!reader

SUMMARY. in which you make a bet with your boyfriend, ethan, the night before the start of october. thirty-one days of sex.

CONTENT. no ghostface!au, ethan bailey is canon!!, established relationship, fluff, bantering, a little suggestive, no smut, basically a prologue chapter, no beta, not proofread.

WORD COUNT. 1.9k

previous. masterlist. next.

11:49 PM. 

It’s times like this where I find myself thinking — really thinking — deeper into life and its meaning. The closer I look, the more I start to realize how glorified life is. I follow the same routine day-in and day-out. Wake up, get ready, go to class, go home, and get ready for the same thing tomorrow. It’s like the only time I get to have a reprise is in moments late into the night, all snuggled up and ready to sleep. A sliver of freedom in a meticulously bland and boring way of life.

Not to be melodramatic or anything. Ethan often told me I have a knack for that.

The blinding light of my laptop screen hits my retinas with a harsh glare despite having set the brightness to its dimmest setting. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, so I tough it out. I scroll aimlessly through my Tumblr dashboard, skimming past posts until one catches my attention just enough for me to stop and actually read.

‘Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Niccolo Govender x Reader, Jack Ch—’

“Ugh,” a small groan sounds from beside me on the bed. With a quirk of a smile, I glance beside me at my boyfriend, Ethan Bailey, who is laid there in all his glory. He has his arm draped over his eyes, covering them from the light emitting from my laptop. For a split second, I feel bad for disturbing his sleep. Ethan lets out another groan before throwing his arm off to the side, his eyes flickering over to my figure. “Angel, can we please go to bed?”

I sigh as I hear the pleading tone of his voice and shoot him an apologetic look.

“Just a few more minutes, Eth. Promise.”

Ethan simply gives me a blank stare, not believing my words for a second. He rolls over onto his side, now fully facing me with a sulky little pout on his lips. As cute as he is, I can’t fall for his tricks and forget about the task I had assigned myself. Ethan raises his head from the pillow, craning his neck to peek at my screen. Curious, he asks, “What are you doing anyways?”

A soft smile crosses my face at his question, both amused by the innocence behind it and touched by his curiosity. I reach over to pet his messed up curls, a habit that I had developed ever since the two of us moved in together for the new semester. Immediately, Ethan melts into my touch, visibly relaxing at the contact shared between the two of us.

“Just waiting for all the October context to start being posted.”

“Why October specifically?” He asks while furrowing his brows in confusion, completely and blissfully unaware of what I was talking about at all. It was kind of cute that he didn’t know, especially considering Richie of all people ran an active and thriving blog. It was literally the worst kept secret ever. Even Quinn knew. “Something special happening?”

“Mmm, something like that…” I giggle, causing Ethan to raise his furrowed brow at me in question. Unable to keep a straight face at the overly serious expression that he’s giving me, I burst out in laughter, deciding to finally enlighten him to the world of Kinktober. After a few moments, I calm myself down, taking a few deep breaths, letting out some final snickers. On the flip side, Ethan just stares at me blankly, unamused. With a roll of my eyes, I softly scratch at his scalp, confessing the ‘dirty secret’ I had been keeping for so long. “It’s Kinktober. Y’know, when writers just shit out a bunch of written porn?”

“Kink…tober?” Ethan repeats back, his expression contorting into one of confusion. He repeats the word a few more times, looking deep in contemplation while processing the information I had just dumped on him. Without even trying to hide it, I coo at him like an owner would at their pet. Blinking, he deadpans, “So you’re up at midnight just to read porn?”

“Smut.”

“Right. Smut.” He corrects himself, but not without a dramatic show of rolling his eyes in faux annoyance. It’s now my turn to roll my eyes, removing my hand from his hair and flicking his forehead in retaliation. Immediately, Ethan swats my hand away from anywhere near his face and rubs his forehead, grumbling to himself as he gives me a proper stinkeye. In return, I simply give him a cheeky smile and stick out my tongue, albeit a bit childishly.

It doesn’t take much long though until he forgets about the whole ordeal and goes back to the topic at hand. He clicks his tongue, eyes brightening with an idea that I know could be no good and smirks at me. With a lazy drawl, he asks smugly, “Why read about sex when you have me?”

Not expecting that of all things to come out of his mouth, I’m taken by surprise. A snort escapes my lips at the suggestive implication in his words. Placing my laptop beside me, I prop myself up on my elbow and lean down to Ethan, squinting at him. “What’re you trying to say, Bailey?”

Like a predator stalking his prey, he gazes up at me, a tinge of seduction behind those innocent looking brown eyes. He eyes me with temptation, luring me in before he can swallow me whole. His larger hand stalks around my hip, caressing at my skin as he travels across its smooth surface. Suddenly, I’m pulled in, now on top of him and straddling his hips where I can feel him start to harden.

“There’s no way some dumb words could ever be better than…me.”

He’s right and we both know it, but a bigger part of me wants to challenge him on that. Maybe it’s his cockiness in his tone, or the fact that his growing boner is directly pressing against my clothed core as he grinds his hips. Either way, I raise my eyebrow, looking down at him from above. “Really, huh? Big words coming from someone who came within the first three minutes last time.”

At the reminder of the last time we had sex, his eyes widened and his face flushed in embarrassment. “That was an accident!” He vehemently exclaims, defending himself for his early ejaculation. 

If I were to be completely honest, I was kind of turned on from how easily he came from just being inside of me, not even fully engulfed. The idea was lewder than the circumstances surrounding it, but the prospect of him almost coming inside of me — Even though we were protected — was as enticing as it was terrifying.

“Besides, you know how good I can make you feel.” Ethan then attempts to wink, his eyelids not cooperating, leading to him blinking instead. Realizing that he messed up his attempt to be smooth, he shakes his head and instead smiles sheepishly.

I giggle at his silliness, brushing aside the curls near his eyes with a level of fondness I once never would have known to exist. He really was perfect for me. Pinching his cheeks, I keep poking at him and his cocky attitude. “You think you can keep up?”

“Babe, I know I can.” He states as confident as ever, a smirk playing on his face. Without another word, he starts to run his hands up my thighs, my skin prickling up at his electric touch. Reaching my hips, he starts to rub circles around my hip dips, fondling my inner thighs. I let out a deep sigh, both relaxing at his intimate touch, and tensing as his boner pokes into me. Unable to help myself, I grind my pulsating core against him, satisfying the need.

“So cute...”

I whine at his words, embarrassed at just how badly I needed him at this moment. He was the one who started it in the first place, yet I was the one here left to look like a mess instead of him. It was unfair. Continuing to grind against him, he suddenly stops his movements. I hiss out, “Eth, you annoying fuck…”

Out of nowhere, he flips the two of us around, the lower half of his body pressed against me as he looks down on me. I’m caged in his arms, each one placed beside me, trapping me as his prisoner. Ethan cocks his head to the side, an innocent look on his face. He speaks in a sickeningly sweet voice, “What’s the matter, angel?”

“You know what’s wrong.”

“Do I?” He asks, pretending to think about it.

“Eth!” I hiss, squirming underneath him. He’s so close, the only thing separating us being the clothes we have on. Never have I ever wanted to not have any on more than I do right now. I needed to feel him, all of him. Not just his warmth, but skin against skin to truly prove that he was right there with me.

Ethan lets out a chuckle, grinning at how needy I was being. I bet he really got off on that, huh? Knowing that he was in control, having me wrapped around his finger. Fuck, I needed him in me whether it was his fingers or his dick. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at me like he was reprimanding me. “Thirty-one days, angel. You can wait a few hours.”

Just like that, Ethan shifts off of me and back to his side of the bed with a satisfied smile on his face. The sudden switch from before to now was jarring and it took me a few moments before I completely processed what just happened. I scoff, propping myself up on my elbows and looking over at him.

“Are you serious?” “Super.” The pain in the ass called my boyfriend responds, closing his eyes, ready to fall asleep.

“You’re literally cockblocking yourself!” I sputter out in disbelief. Ethan Bailey, the boy who couldn’t keep his hands off of me. The same boy who literally cried the first time we had sex — I did too. The same boy who was now laying in our bed with a rock-hard boner, yet doing nothing about it when he had the more than eager opportunity to. What a fucking idiot.

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking over his words carefully. “I can handle it.”

I let out an overdramatic huff as I collapsed onto the bed. Looking over, I peer at Ethan’s ‘sleeping’ face. A few moments passed of me just staring at him with a blank expression before he opened one eye and looked at me with a questioning expression. “Can’t sleep, love?”

“Don’t even.” I warned, glaring at him and his feigned nonchalance.

He chuckles, and I can feel him shift in the bed. Soon, arms wrap around me and pull me into a tight embrace. My face is gently placed against Ethan’s nape where I often laid on nights like this. Without a word, I wrap my arms and legs around him like a koala with a tree, seeking any contact with him. I bury my face into his nape, taking in his cinnamon scent.

“Sorry.” Despite his words, Ethan lets out another chuckle, the vibrations of it throughout his body a soothing feeling against my tense body.

I grumble, “You’re not sorry.”

He huffs in amusement at my sulkiness, petting my hair. Pecks and kisses litter my face in a frenzy as a way of him trying to make me feel better. To his credit, it does work despite my attempts to not let it. How could I ever resist his kisses? Peering down at me, Ethan smiles softly before kissing my lips. Cinnamon chapstick and lemonade citrus.

“Happy…uh…Kinktober, angel.”

[sammis-svsss-brainrot]

Theoretically if I were to host an event in which the Scum Villain Fandom tried to write PIDW would people be interested?

I discussed this with my good friend @spaced-out-scribbles a while back but here few details that I have in my head, please stop me if someone has already done something like this before

As we all know PIDW, written by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, was the source material that Shen Yuan transmigrates into

So wouldn't it be funny to have a "canon" source material for people to reference?

Step 1 would be to compile every reference to PIDW in SVSSS to figure out how long Binghe's white lotus arc lasted and how long actual plot occured before it devolved into shitty smut

Step 2 would be to compile a list of fic writers and maybe artists perhaps that would be interested in recreating PIDW based off of the information occuring in Step 1

A discord server is put together with everyone interested in this project

There could maybe be a list of people assigned to each referenced arc that would maybe hold applications the way that a zine would perhaps? With people applying to write specific portions of PIDW if they wanted to write the marriage of a specific wife or a portion of a specific arc

And anyone else that wanted to participate is assigned a random wife number and told to go wild with the longest, shittiest description of how Luo Bingge was a total stallion lead, and married his new wife of the week

All of these fics and/or accompanying art are submitted to a GIANT ao3 collection (bonus points if everyone involved creates a pseud that's named as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for this project) and with everyone's contributions all put together you get a semblance of what PIDW would have looked like

Bonus points if no one else has any idea what happened in a previous wife plot, so the story is not at all coherent towards the later chapters, because I fully believe Airplane had no idea what the fuck he's written before as he got to the end of PIDW

Someone is assigned to write the final shitty ending that made Shen Yuan so mad he died and transmigrated

If anyone wants to contribute to PIDW after the project, the collection could remain open but moderated to make sure chapter numbers/wife numbers stay consistent and that's about it

Obviously this would be a huge project to wrangle and would need a lot of people involved to actually make it work and take a lot of time, so if this is something people are actually interested in, it would more than likely not be able to come to fruition until the start of 2025 at the absolute earliest with all the prep work it would take to get a project like this accomplished but I thought I'd throw it out there to see if people would be interested, so reblog to spread the word if this is something you'd like to see!

Once again, if someone has already done something like this please let me know, I've only been in this fandom for like a year and a half so I'm aware that a lot of fandom events have occured before my time in the fandom

[sepublic]

Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

            Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was. 

         Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

         No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

         Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

         Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

         They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

         There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

         Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

         String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

         That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

         Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

         Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

         They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

         Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

         According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

         The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

         Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

         Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

         Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

         Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

         Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

         Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

         Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

         Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

         Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

         Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

         In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

         There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

         In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

         According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

         What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

         Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

        Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

[morbethgames]

The Recoding of The Bureau is Finished

I’m done recoding the game. All in all, it was honestly about what I expected to be slimmed off once I got a good look at some of the scenes. As I expected, 90% of that were from the first 3 chapters. I am a mix of emotions after arduously spending hours upon hours replacing gender variables one at a time by hand. Which unfortunately, I couldn’t think of another way for doing it, because all of the characters were using the same gender variables instead of independent ones for each character.

I’m relieved it’s done. Disappointed in myself that I had to do it at all. Irritated that some people decided to put the game on blast for it rather than give actionable suggestions on how to fix it. Excited to finally be able to continue writing both the extra scenes that need to be written and the main story. I honestly don’t know which one I’m going to continue with first.

Please leave feedback.

There are still no doubt one or two spots with maybe 1-2k words each that could be slimmed down, but that would require a lot of work for very little payoff. So yes, I’m comfortable saying, the game is almost 400k words long in total. 85k words per playthrough. That’s not including the extra scenes in the stats screen, because randomtest doesn’t go in the stats screen (to my knowledge at least, someone can correct me if I’m wrong). So you still have to play the game roughly 5 times and choose different choices to see everything it has to offer.

Is the game smaller? A bit, yeah. Is it 100-150k? It’s more than double that.

Now, that doesn’t say anything for the state of some of the writing. If I have to read someone nodding, or smiling, or ‘slightly’, ‘a bit’, or ‘a little’ something in my own work again, I’m gonna jump out a window. Obviously, back when I started writing this, I was very much influenced by Wayhaven. I’ve since grown out of that idea. Since the game has taken on an identity of its own, and while I will forever be grateful to that series and continue to support it, there’s gonna be some changes in the final version of this game. Less of what I said above, less ellipses, and the flirting (especially in the beginning) will seem much more down to earth and believable for the setting it’s in, with a bit of wiggle room since this is still very much a YA game.

Please leave feedback.

The rewrite will not be happening until the first draft of the game is fully finished. I refuse to get stuck in a rewrite phase, mostly because I would just find it way too boring.

My patreon will continue to have static fiction on it, as well as sneak peeks into upcoming stuff. In case you’ve been missing it, Love In Stasis is up to Chapter 6 at this point, with more to come. I’m also thinking about potentially starting a horror static fiction.

I’ll be relying on people to playtest this new version of the game to tell me about any continuity errors, and gender errors, any anything errors. So please, play the demo. Let me know if you notice anything. I think if I’ve proved anything at this point, it’s that I act and fix things based on feedback.

And pettiness.

But mostly feedback.

Please leave feedback.

Last thing I’ll say; I’m gonna stop saying I’m bad at coding. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to implement the text boxes and fine tune them. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to code Golden Eyes. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to slim down the game that much from where it was. So it’s time I give myself the credit of someone who at least knows what they’re doing. I’m not adept at it, but I’m certainly not bad at it either.

I’m still expecting the game to end up over 500k words when all is said and done. It will not be one million words, but I’m actually kind of happy about that. This is proof I’m still working on this game, and the next time it updates, it will have new content. Thanks for those that are patient and stick around, your support does still genuinely mean a lot.

Please leave feedback.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

P.S. Please leave feedback.

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 05

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 5: "It's fine! South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Of three things you are absolutely certain. First, soulmates exist. Second, the universe – and you don't know how potent its power may be – runs on some sort of karmic imbalance. And third, you are unconditionally, and irrevocably, fucked.

It is raining.

In a rare, extremely odd fit of forethought, you actually have an umbrella in your bag. Normally, you would scoff at weather predictions and dare the clouds to do their worst. But today, you found yourself grabbing your umbrella before leaving for your commute, and the skies that have darkened into an ominous, storm-like gray after your work shift do not phase you at all.

Today, your undoing lies in a different kind of disaster preparedness.

Hard water pelts down almost as if it is herding you, and you hurry from the assault of the rippling sky to the awning of a closed coffee shop to grab your umbrella. Expletives spew from your lips as you dig through your messy bag. You're so focused that you barely register someone also taking refuge from the sudden storm – a man wearing a mask and a bucket hat, but is shivering through a wet, black long sleeved t-shirt that's sticking to what looks like a very toned body.

Not that that's the type of thing you typically notice or anything.

"Found you!" you screech excitedly as you pull out your umbrella and brandish it at the sky. The man beside you flinches, like you're about to attack him, and you give him a disdainful look.

"S-sorry," he mutters, the brim of his hat still hiding his eyes. "I thought you meant something else."

Something else? Is he on the run from the mob, or fleeing the national military? The incredibility of either prospect nearly makes you snicker, but whatever, you need to get home before the storm gets –

BOOM!

– worse.

The thunderclap makes both of you jump, and you wince at the realization that the rain is coming down even harder. Unforgiving sheets of water pour down, and you can barely see even a few feet past the awning. Maybe you can get an Uber instead…

You pull out your phone to see no bars. No data, no phone signal, nothing. The guy next to you is shivering even more violently now, and you internally sigh. You can't just ignore him, not when helplessness is wafting off him in tenebrous waves.

"Do you have a ride coming?" you ask reluctantly, wishing you had been raised to be more selfish. Your mother does whatever the hell she wants, why hasn't she taught you the same? Though, to be fair, she probably would have been able to get the rain to stop by glaring. Perhaps someday, in your final form, you'll be just as powerful.

The man wilts and shakes his head, and you’re alarmed when you hear a sniffle. Shit, you are not equipped to handle a crying man. You're not even equipped to handle your own emotions.

"I – I left rehearsal because I had a fight with my hyung," the guy begins to share, morosely wiping his face with a wet hand that only leaves more moisture behind. His voice quivers, and despite your misgivings, the piteous sight of him tugs at your heartstrings. "And now I'm lost. I only have my phone, and it’s useless right now."

You start to feel a little sympathy for someone who's clearly been having a bad day. You're about to offer to share your umbrella to the nearest train station when he finally looks straight at you, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The patch of skin behind your ear suddenly tingles and–

Oh.

Oh.

The rain falls, lightning cracks, and your stomach drops in time with the crash of thunder that follows. Yet you can barely hear it over the sudden pounding of your heartbeat.

"Do you… Could you… If it's not too much trouble, could I walk with you to the train station?" Jeon Jungkook pleads, large doe-eyes gazing brilliantly at you from half of an unmistakable face.

This… is why you felt like bringing an umbrella today? Because of the universe and its cosmic–fucking–intervention?

The man across you fidgets, growing self-conscious as he waits for your answer. For a few long seconds, all you can do is stare numbly at him.

Are you going to have to assume every man you run into these days is one of your soulmates? How is this even possible?

You reach your decision in less than a minute.

Dejectedly, you hold out your umbrella wordlessly to Jungkook, and his face lights up. His smile does something unspeakable to your heart that you refuse to acknowledge. His expression scrunches – cutely, to your dismay – in confusion when you just hand him the umbrella. You shove a few crumpled bills from your back pocket into his free hand, careful not to touch his skin, and he looks completely baffled.

"For the train fare," you manage to choke out, already backing away into the unforgiving rain. It's coming down so hard the pelting drops almost hurt, but this is infinitely preferable to whatever the fuck the alternative is.

"What…? No! You don't have to – I just wanted to share – "

"It's fine!" you call over your shoulder, already twenty meters away and sopping wet in the opposite way to what the universe was probably trying to contrive. "Just get home safe! I'm sure your hyung is worried!"

With that you're off, leaving a very confused and equally charmed idol behind. Jungkook stares after the strange, kind girl, wondering why it feels like you're running away.

Pondering, he scratches the tattoo behind his ear.

He’s just about to run after you, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he opens it in surprise to see a wall of text messages.

How odd. The signal bars are full now.

At the influx of messages from his hyungs, his argument with Jimin at the rehearsal studio floods back into his mind, and Jungkook sniffles again and dials the familiar number.

"What do you want?" answers a grumbling Jimin, filling Jungkook's chest with guilt.

"Hyung, I'm so sorry!" Jungkook cries, blubbering in earnest now, the familiar voice opening the floodgates until his tears almost match the tempest around him.

"Don't call me!" his hyung scolds, clearly still angry. And yet, he picked up the call when he could have just ignored him. Jungkook hears Jimin sigh, the sound static and long. "Fine. Where are you?"

"I don't know," Jungkook whimpers as another crack of lightning cleaves the air. Thunder follows soon after, and he hopes that you're okay, wherever you've gone.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?!” Jimin demands, suddenly all love, all worry. "Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

Ah… warmth. This is what his team has taught him: brotherhood, love, and family. To be angry, to piss each other off, but in the end be willing to drop everything to help one another.

Something the stranger had done despite having no need to.

"I don't know where I am," Jungkook replies, already feeling a little better. "But I'll take a taxi home. S-someone gave me some money."

"Come safely. I'll wait outside for you."

Before Jungkook can protest, Jimin hangs up. The maknae can't help but smile despite how stressful the day has been. Between his team members and the kindness of the girl from earlier, his chest feels warm and fuzzy, driving away the cold and the gloom of the gray skies and icy rain.

He just wishes he had gotten your name.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Fuck.

You wake with a head full of cotton and a nose more clogged than a toilet at an American WacDonald's. Feeling like death, you drag yourself out of bed to the bathroom, force yourself into a scalding hot shower that – for a blessed moment – clears your sinuses. You get ready for work, and by the time you're ready, you at least look put together, though inside you're already wishing you could crawl back under your covers.

Any other time, you might have taken a day off to not inflict your coworkers with your germs, but today is that stupid executive meeting and you can't afford to miss it.

You pop some cold medicine into your mouth, mask up, and get to work early, because despite your utter lack of care when it comes to your personal life, you are a demon in the office.

"[Y/n]!" calls Mijoo, one of your favorite administrative assistants. It's for that reason and that reason alone that you pull your head away from your screen to give her a smile she probably can't see through the cloth of your mask.

"Hey," you greet, clearing your throat and relieved you haven't hit the "uncontrollable cough" stage of your cold yet. "What's going on?"

"Soonyoung is freaking out about something again," she replies quietly, casting her eyes over to the corner office where your Senior Vice-President resides.

You're not sure if he ever actually leaves the building.

You sigh. This is a big project, one that is being presented to the company execs, and you really need everything to go perfectly. It's a good thing you got here early.

"When I finish here, I'll go talk to him," you say reluctantly, making Mijoo shoot you a smile of relief.

After you've confirmed that everything should as expected, you push off your desk, letting your chair roll backwards. Then you slip your feet back into your heels, stand, and give a lazy stretch of your limbs before heading to put out the fire, rolling your shoulders as you do so.

Through the glass surrounding the door, you can see your VP frowning at his computer screen, gray brows knit in some sort of frustration. You knock twice, and he looks up, still frowning. It vanishes as soon as he realizes it's you, and with a grin he beckons you inside.

"[Y/n]! Thank goodness," he said in a relieved voice, already angling his monitor so that you can see. "I can't get VLOOKUP to work!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you shouldn't, instead ambling over to help the dinosaur who is (hopefully) planning on retiring soon. Why is someone so high up even messing with spreadsheets, anyway? You barely have time to do any hands-on work at this point, and all you manage is your own team.

"It's tricky," you agree fondly, humoring him not because you have to, but because he kind of reminds you of your grandpa. "Here, let me help."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your next meeting also has an unusually high number of execs, and you frown as you recall the vague wording of the invite. You settle in a chair next to your work friend slash rival Jaesung, who looks just as confused as you feel.

"Any idea what this 'very important meeting' is about?" you whisper in his direction, and he shakes his head.

"No clue, but there are rumors that there's something big coming up," he whispers back. The two of you are unable to speculate any further, however, as your CEO appears. What the hell?

By the time the meeting ends, you are torn between laughing and crying hysterically. The execs have announced the planned launch of a top secret flagship product, one that the company is expecting massive returns on due to a collaboration with – because this is your life now – motherfucking BTS.

And then VP Soonyoung stands, looks at you and Jaesung proudly, and says that as two of his best people, you will be spearheading the marketing and sales efforts. He adds, with an elderly jovial laugh, “Both of you will even get the chance to meet them, so go get your autograph plaques ready!”

As if you needed to be disincentivized!

"You’re so lucky!" wails Mijoo as you sit in your cube, where you have been staring woodenly at your computer screen for over five minutes now. She thinks you're in joyful shock, and maybe, it definitely is shock. The electric chair kind.

It's bad enough that you had to spend an entire wonderful excruciating evening with Hoba – Hoseok – and he is now aware of your existence, even if he hasn't realized you're soulmates. But now this?

You mull over filing for your immediate resignation, which only adds to your headache. Eventually, you conclude that your time and compensation package from Samsong are just too good, too unbeatable, and… you’ve grown as a professional here. People respect you, value you for you, and you absolutely love working with your personally curated team.

The problem is the universe keeps testing your limits. Executive meetings? Easy. Flagship product development? Doable with the right people. But passionate, self-consuming cosmic schemes involving the world’s biggest boy band in the guise of soulmateship?

You’d rather get hit by a car.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The universe hates me.

That is your last thought as you hear the squeal of tires on pavement and the frantic honks of a car horn before you're suddenly staring up at the sky, pain flaring throughout your entire body.

A man gets out of the black Hyundai Palisade with tinted windows, and you suddenly wish that you had been truly run over with no hope of recovery. Of course it's Kim fucking Namjoon of BTS, and he's looking at you in a mixture of panic and concern that makes your heart flutter despite your best efforts.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he asks, to which part of your brain thinks, What a fucking idiot of course I'm not. The other half stupidly admires the broad set of his shoulders, the strange mixture of grace and clumsiness as he stumbles over to your battered body.

Wait.

You return to your senses, and begin to push yourself back up to your feet.

"Yep, totally fine!" you insist through gritted teeth, ignoring the way one of your legs is twisted awkwardly, and the flare of agony that permeates your body when you're able to bring yourself upright. "It was my fault anyway!"

It wasn't, but you're not going to stick around to let this play out.

You begin to limp away as fast as your contorted ankle allows, ignoring the flabbergasted expression on Namjoon's handsome face.

"I – can I at least pay for your medical bills?" he asks as he takes a tentative step after you. You hobble faster despite the burning pain in your legs.

"It's fine!" you call behind you, getting a regrettable glimpse of his beautiful, worried eyes. "South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Unfortunately, you can only wobble so fast until the physically fit, able-bodied man catches up to you. By this point, your vision is fuzzing with strange dotted lights and your body doesn't feel quite real anymore. Namjoon's hand touches your shoulder, and you turn around to tell him off. Instead, you feel your legs buckle and strong arms catch you before everything goes black.

 ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"You keep appearing in unexpected places, and often." Jimin swallows, his heart beginning to race. "Your skin is always covered up. You don't eat or drink anything when I'm around."

He takes a deep breath, knowing you're just a step behind him.

"How old are you?"

You hesitate – just barely – before you reply.

"Twenty-five."

"... How long have you been twenty-five?"

"A few months."

A few months. A few months since he's moved into your apartment complex. A few months since the strange not-quite-ennui and melancholy has begun plaguing him. A few months since you have turned of age to manifest your soulmate connection.

"I know what you are."

He feels your body tense behind him, and a thrill runs down his spine. When you speak, he can feel your breath on his neck.

"Say it."

“Soulma–”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon looks anxiously at the nurse checking your vitals as you lay prone on the hospital bed, wishing he could do more to help.

"I think – I think she might have hit her head," he offers, for the tenth time, thinking about the way you had tried to run away on what the nurse is reasonably certain is a badly sprained ankle. The nurse gives him a tight smile, because one does not simply roll their eyes at the leader of Bangtan Sonyeondan, no matter how many times he's said the same thing.

"We'll check for it," the nurse promises, soothing the tall man. For the time being.

Namjoon chews on his lip as he gazes at you, wondering what your story is, what kind of past would drive you to such strange lengths.

For some reason, he itches to hold your hand, but that would be completely inappropriate from a total stranger. Especially when it could cause dating rumors if anyone gets a glimpse or a picture. His manager is already going to kill him for chasing down an injured girl in broad daylight.

His eyes keep getting drawn back to your face, peaceful in sleep and – dare he say it – quite pretty. Very pretty. Beautiful, even. And you had felt so soft and nice in his arms, warm and –

"Sir, please stay seated while I finish here," comes the nurse's tired voice, and Namjoon realizes he's gotten up and has an arm outstretched to stroke your cheek.

"Uh, sorry," he stutters, face burning as he sits back down. What the hell is wrong with him? Why does he feel drawn to this very strange, very lovely girl?

A soft groan tears Namjoon out of his spiraling thoughts, and his gaze shoots to your form as your eyelids flutter open.

"Wha – " you ask blearily, waking up from the weirdest parody dream of the world’s best vampire movie ever. Shifting in your bed, pain contorts your face and you let out a hiss. "Ow!"

Namjoon rushes over, and your mouth drops open when you realize who he is. Before you can react, he's holding your hand in his, and he staggers as something in the universe fundamentally shifts. By your gasp, you're experiencing a similar sensation, and you yank your hand out of his grip before he can get his bearings.

"Your leg seems severely strained," the nurse explains, blissfully unaware of the way the world is tumbling around the both of you. "We'll need to do x-rays to make sure it’s not broken."

"I'll… get a wheelchair…" Namjoon says, in a daze, desperate to be of help even as his mind races to understand what is going on. He stumbles outside of the room, desperately hoping that a moment alone will help him get his thoughts in order and help him find the right questions to ask.

Apparently these are questions he won't receive answers to any time soon, because by the time he's back, the room is empty. The nurse follows after him, and looks around in confusion.

"Where'd she go?" the nurse asks, and Namjoon wishes he knew the answer. Who are you? Why are you so hellbent on getting away from him?

And why does holding your hand feel like home?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

That was too close. Too fucking close.

You pull yourself onto the bus by the railing, ignoring the driver's confused, concerned expression as he takes in your hospital gown and the way you're wincing in pain. You swipe your card, only vaguely aware that everyone behind you can see your rump through the poorly tied flaps of the gown.

It's fine. Your dignity is unimportant compared to the bulletproof boy scout you just dodged.

You drag yourself to a handicapped seat – if there's ever a time you can confidently sit in one, it's now – and fall into it, finding an angle for your leg that gives some sort of relief.

Despite the pain, it's the warm feeling in your hand you can't stop thinking about.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon is at a loss.

Despite searching the entire hospital, the mysterious girl was nowhere to be found, vanishing from the premises as if she were never there. Still, out of personal guilt and liability, Namjoon lingered, offering to settle the missing girl’s hospital expenses, but the charge nurse expertly dismissed his generosity once it became apparent that he did not know you at all. He couldn’t even give them your name, or any proof of relation, and the rest of the staff quickly became tight-lipped around him.

Even Kim Namjoon, the illustrious 148 IQ leader of BTS, can’t argue against health privacy laws.

Since leaving his phone number with the charge nurse – his final, desperate effort – Namjoon has been staring at his phone, waiting for any news about you… news that simply never comes.

That same evening, he walks into the band’s shared dormitory with aplomb.

Single-minded, he heads straight for the living room and picks up the remote control off of the coffee table.

The flatscreen TV goes dark, and Kim Taehyung complains, “Hyung, no! What gives!”

Jungkook cries in offense, shooting up from the sofa, “My vampire baseball scene!”

Namjoon deigns them both with a long-suffering look. “We need to talk, so call the team.”

His assertive voice, usually reserved for critical matters and scolding, makes Taehyung and Jungkook abandon their emotional support movie in favor of gathering the rest of the group.

One by one, the boys pile into the living room from separate parts of the apartment at Namjoon’s behest. Most of them are sporting rumpled clothes and bedheads, save for Jimin, who looked ready to leave for his own place.

Namjoon announces, “There’s something I want to discuss. A… possibility.” He clears his throat. “A girl.”

"That's what you interrupted our movie for?" Taehyung asks, indignant. "A crush?"

Hoseok lets out an immediate sigh of relief. “Is that it?” And then he pauses, scratching at his nape, “Well, me too, I guess.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten. “No way, hyungs! Me too!”

When Jin, Jungkook, and Taehyung concede that they've also had a run-in with a very memorable girl recently, a new suspicion blooms in the back of Namjoon's mind.

Could they be talking about the same girl?

Though unlikely, he decides to ask, “Did any of you manage to get her name?”

Jin nods, seriously. “G0d$l@yeR_69.”

Namjoon shoots him another long-suffering look.

Hoseok stays silent, if only because his memories of you are one of the few non-idol centered things he still holds onto. Besides, his girl can’t possibly be their girl, too. The odds of that happening would be astronomical.

It's not so wrong to want to keep one aspect of his life to himself… right?

“Sorry, I… I didn’t get her name,” Jimin lies, for the same reason Hoseok keeps quiet. Besides, even if Jin is interested in you, Jimin's your neighbor! He should get first dibs! He's not going to give up your name so his handsome, charismatic hyung can find you and woo you before Jimin even has a chance to try.

"What's this important meeting about?" asks Min Yoongi, walking into the room with a mug of coffee in hand.

"A girl," Jungkook replies, somewhat dreamily, remembering the guardian angel that saved him that rainy day. Yoongi rolls his eyes and immediately turns around to leave despite Namjoon's protests. He has more important things to do than sit around gossiping, especially since he has a meeting with Samsong tomorrow about their new collaboration.

There's a hubbub behind him, a thump, and a curse from the ungainly leader as Namjoon's prized George Nakashima coffee table claims yet another victim. Yoongi's toe throbs, and he sighs.

"There's a first-aid kit in my room." He calls over his shoulder as he goes. "Knock yourselves out."

Far away, in a clinic near your apartment where your ankle is being put into a brace, you sneeze.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[ultimate-marysue]

I actually think that the difficulty in reading The Locked Tomb is that we're used to having things "confirmed" for real at the end of the book. When a character watches the sky be cut up by flaming swords, usually someone else points out there was a meteor shower. TLT does this sometimes, but other times it leaves you to fit the pieces together. It doesn't tell you "congrats, the final image is a red balloon", you put the pieces of the puzzle together and then observe the image on your own.

You're meant to do the work on your own, and if you're not paying attention you're fucked. You might miss pieces because they didn't seem important, you might try to fit things that don't go together. When you have all the pieces and you have the final image it's really easy to solve it. Tamsyn doesn't necessarily give you the final picture for a lot of things and that's fine. You have the pieces, trust in your intelligence to put them together. It's okay if you forgot about something and you need to read the wiki.

These books are not the easiest read if you only have time for a chapter or two each day. It's hard to remember everything, you may lose some pieces along the way and now you can't solve it. That's not the book's fault though, they were written to be like that.

If Tamsyn gave you the picture at the end of every mystery there would be no incentive to put the pieces together on your own. Does it suck for the people that can't finish the book in one sitting? Yeah! But that doesn't make it impossible to understand. Tamsyn didn't make an upsie, it's a key feature of her writing.

You need to fully engage with the text. They're not a casual read, and it's okay if you're not in the headspace for that or if you prefer to just look at the wiki at the end. I simply want people to understand that just because a book doesn't feed you the answers it doesn't mean it was badly written. If it's not for you, that's fine. You're allowed to dislike things even if they're not bad! Something can be perfectly correct and not be your cup of tea/not come easy to you.

Authors don't need to over explain themselves over the fear of readers "not getting it", especially not now with wikis and podcasts. Let authors do weird shit.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves X Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38

A/N: Sorry, this took a bit. I was actually pretty close to finishing it before season 4 came out. Then I watched season 4 and fell into a rut for a bit because it was so disappointing and upsetting. Anyway, I finally got my energy to write back and have finally managed to finish it! Also, the title of this chapter is inspired by the song I'm Just Sayin' by Weathers so for any who are interested I'd recommend to go take a listen to it! Alright, thanks! Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

Pt 39 - Hate And Love Are Starting To Taste The Same

From where he stood, Five watched as you got into what he could only assume was Dean's car and drove off. Staying in place for a moment, he looked at the number you had written on his arm. Using a finger he traced over the little heart you had drawn. It was a nice detail. Even in one of your worst moments you still took the time to show him you loved him. Although, the more he looked at it, the more he wanted to rush to a phone and call you already. It wasn't an emergency in the normal sense, but he still needed you. He knew he couldn't call though. You needed your space, and he had to trust you'd come back when you were ready to. Seeing as you probably weren't coming back for a bit, Five pulled down his sleeve, turned away from the doors, and walked back to his siblings at the bar. The silence was awkward as he approached, but it didn't last as Diego snapped,

"You just let her go!?"

"I had no choice." Five responded flatly "Even if I held on she could've just used her powers to leave."

"And what if she gets hurt?" Diego interrogated

"I don't know..." Five answered honestly "I just have to hope that she doesn't."

"But you're her boyfriend!" Diego retorted "It's your job to keep an eye on her."

Hearing that comment, Five side-eyed Diego. It's not like he wanted to let you go. Like he had said, he had no choice in the matter. And Diego sure was one to talk. For so long he touted himself as this amazing older brother, this superior protector who was far better at keeping you safe than Five was, and yet these past few days he had done anything but protect you. You grieved your dead parents and he didn't pay attention. You got torn by a kugelwave and instead of helping you, he turned his attention to Stan. You left the hotel and he had no clue where you went. You cried over the fact that your friends got blitzed and instead of comforting you, he comforted Stan who was scared of your residual power. And yet even with all the evidence, Diego still had the audacity to blame Five for your lack of physical and mental safety. Even when he was doing everything he could to ensure the opposite. Maybe instead of blaming him, Diego should take a long look in the mirror given that you had still expressed your love for Five, but had just fully rejected Diego.

"First of all, that was also supposed to be your job, but as we can all see, you failed at that." Five reminded "Secondly, I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if I forced her to do something she didn't want to do. She respects and trusts my decisions even when she disagrees. It's only right that I do the same for her."

Diego opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but what could he say? Five was right. In some way or another, he had failed you and now you wanted nothing to do with him. Diego closed his mouth knowing he had nothing to reply and instead looked at the knives you had tossed on the ground. Letting out a sigh, Diego slowly bent down to pick them up. One by one he placed them in empty slots in his knife holster and when he ran out of space he carefully pocketed the rest. Standing back up, Diego gave Five a mournful look before returning to his spot by the bar. Taking a seat at one of the stools, he took a long drink from his glass. Stan looked at Diego, not out of any concern, but because of all the shiny knives that were now on his person. Looking at Diego excitedly, Stan asked,

"Can I have them?"

"No." Diego snapped

Diego could see the startled expression on Stan's face. He didn't mean to do that, Stan had already been through enough today. Letting out another sigh, Diego placed his glass down and looked directly at Stan.

"I'm sorry..." Diego apologized before sadly adding "But no, you can't have them."

"But she said-" Stan began to protest

"They're not yours, Stan. They belong to (Y/N)." Lila sternly enforced "You can't have them."

Letting out an annoyed huff, Stan walked away from the pair and sat down at a nearby table, slumping low in his seat to show his disdain. However, neither Diego nor Lila paid it much attention. Sitting in the seat next to Diego, Lila put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Putting his glass down, Diego's eyes met Lila's and in them she could see so much sorrow. His fire was dimmed and it broke her heart to think that she had maybe been the cause of this. She loved him. Diego didn't know Stan wasn't actually his. It was just supposed to be an experiment to see if he'd be a good dad. She was never trying to push you two apart. She didn't even think it was possible. She couldn't stand to see Diego so broken. If she could, she was going to try and fix this, for the both of you.

"She'll come back around." Lila comforted

"I hope so..." Diego lamented

"She will." Lila reassured, "I promise."

As Lila attempted to comfort Diego, Five had walked back behind the bar again. Pouring himself a new glass of whiskey, since Klaus had stolen his first, Five took a drink from the glass before looking at his siblings again. There was an awkward silence as everyone looked around, but it was soon broken as Luther questioned,

"So that thing? It was?"

"A Kugelwave." Five responded despondently "And It's getting worse."

"And all those kids they're...?" Viktor trailed off, the concern evident in his tone

Five grimaced. Those 'kids' weren't just anyone, they were your friends, and if things had worked out they could've been his friends. Hell, with the way they treated him maybe they already were, and now he was down six friends too.

"They're gone." Five answered "And we can only hope that their souls are in a better place."

Hearing Five's response, the wheels in Luther's head finally started to turn. With all the chaos that had ensued from the wave, his thoughts had whipped back and forth trying to figure out what to think and do. But with things settled down, he finally realized that Lucas was gone. But not just gone, he was gone gone.

"Oh no, that thing took my son!" Luther exclaimed, "What am I going to tell Sloane!"

"What's there to tell?" Allison snidely remarked, "You're not his real parents."

Luther glared at Allison, disgusted by her comment. Lucas may not have been his son for long, but he was still his son. Sure, it was a surprise to him, and sure it took your convincing to agree, but Lucas was a good kid. And in those few minutes they were together Luther felt like he had done a better job as a father to Lucas than Reginald had ever done for Luther. He honestly wished he had gotten to know his son better and introduced him to his mother. Who knows, maybe the three of them could've been happy together. And anyway, just because Lucas was late-term adopted didn't make him his son any less. Diego had a surprise son and Allison wasn't doubting his legitimacy. And on top of it, Luther and the rest of his siblings were all adopted too so what kind of authority did Allison think she had on what counted as legitimate parenthood?

"Yes, we are!" Luther replied defensively "Don't talk about my son like that."

Seeing the budding argument between Luther and Allison, and wanting to avoid the topic of parenthood for Diego's sake, Lila interjected,

"Five, how long do we have?"

Luther and Allison side-eyed each other but quickly turned their attention to Five. Finding out how much time they had left was only marginally more important than the argument they were heading toward. Although the resentment was still evident.

"At this rate of escalation, if you factor in-" Five began to explain

"How long, Five?" Allison pressed, cutting him off

So much for Five letting them down gently. After all that happened, he wanted to at least be neutral about their possibly imminent demise, but if bluntness was what they wanted, bluntness was what they would get.

"Four, maybe five days before the rest of existence is blitzed." Five answered

His bluntness had the exact reaction that he was expecting as all of his siblings and Lila let out heavy sighs and stared off into space. He watched as Allison took a heavy drink from her glass before walking behind a nearby pillar to be out of sight. However, even though she was out of sight it did not hide the sound of her panicked breaths. Well, Five couldn't say he didn't try to be sensitive about it. However, there was still a feeling of defeat after all that had occurred. Downing his glass, he then crossed his arms on the bar before leaning down and resting his head on his arms. It's not like there was much else to do.

"We should've given them Harlan..." Luther mumbled

"Luther." Viktor chastised

"What about Harlan?" Diego questioned

The rest of the family looked over to Luther. What was going on with Harlan and why was it important to this conversation? Realizing that it was too late to take back his words, but also that he did not want to hide this information Luther explained,

"The Sparrows said if we turned him over, we could end the fighting, and then work together to save the world."

Hearing this information the rest of the group perked up. Why hadn't they heard about this before?

"But if we didn't-" Luther continued

"But we tried to make peace. Okay? And then the step-siblings from hell attacked, kidnapped you, and they tried to kill us." Viktor chimed in cutting Luther off "I mean, come on. We can't trust them. Working together would be like trying to defuse a bomb by pouring gas on it. It's only gonna make things burn down faster."

"But don't we need the big bad glowy thing in their basement?" Klaus chimed in

As Five heard those words, he blinked a few times in confusion. Was Klaus talking about what he thought he was talking about? All this time, did Klaus have highly important information that he hadn't felt necessary to bring up until now? Slowly, Five turned to look at his eccentric brother as he questioned curiously,

"Klaus, do you know where the Kugelblitz is?"

"Oh, yeah. I saw it. When I went to visit Dad." Klaus replied nonchalantly "It's in the old storage room where Mom used to keep all her luggage."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Diego interrogated

"I did!" Klaus exclaimed, "I told you!"

"You say stupid shit all the time!" Diego shouted back before quietly adding "...important stupid shit."

Five slammed the empty glass he had been fiddling with on the bar top and stood up straight as he looked at Klaus. His thoughts which only a moment ago were despondent and wondering how he would spend his last day, were now reinvigorated with some type of hope of fixing things. He couldn't bring the loved ones you lost back, but if he could get access to the Kugelblitz he could stop it from hurting you and maybe you could build a life together where you both learned how to be happy again.

"Of course. It appeared in the same place we did." Five spoke aloud

Five felt a little stupid for not realizing this sooner. Why didn't he think to check the house? It made sense that it would appear there, that's where the paradox formed. Exactly, where they first showed up. Plans ran through Five's head of the quickest ways to get access to the Kugelblitz and the most effective ways to eliminate it. The sooner they did this, the more chance there was for a future.

However, Viktor knew that the tide had turned against him now. Everyone was most likely going to use Harlan as a pawn to get to the Kugelblitz, but he didn't deserve that. He needed a way to keep Harlan out of this. Trying to put his thoughts together, Viktor walked away from the bar and closer to the front desk, but he wouldn't get the time to himself as Luther had already followed him questioning,

"Hey, why are you protecting this guy, huh? It's like Peabody all over again."

Turning around to face Luther, Viktor knew he needed to try and get him off his back. Viktor was metaphorically trapped in a corner and he needed to find a way out of this.

"Harlan is nothing like Leonard." Viktor defended

"Well, he's clearly got some kinda hold over you." Luther protested "Stop covering for him."

There was nothing Viktor wanted more than to leave the conversation, but that became infinitely more complicated as the rest of his family approached him and Luther. Five looked between the two of them. They had been acting odd ever since Luther had brought up the deal the Sparrows offered. Even though it was probably the best plan, it was obvious Viktor wasn't in favor of it because of what it meant for Harlan, but it seemed like there was more to it that Luther was trying to address. Trying to get a clearer picture of what was going on Five asked,

"Covering what? What's going on?"

"He didn't mean to hurt anyone." Viktor dismissed

"Really? You mean, when he did this?" Luther interrogated, gesturing to the cut on Viktor's face

The rest of the group turned their attention to the scar on Viktor's face and it was not pretty. How had they not noticed it earlier? Well, perhaps because of everything that happened, but still it was right there on his face. Granted, it was not as large or deep as the gashes you received from the Kugelwave, but it wasn't small either.

"Ow," Lila commented

"Wait, Harlan did that?" Five questioned

"That's it, I'm gonna end him." Diego threatened

Viktor looked around nervously at his siblings and Lila. He didn't want this to be happening. Every insinuation or accusation that Luther shot his way was just one more reason for the rest of them to be all in on giving Harlan to the Sparrows. Viktor couldn't let that happen, if he did he'd be failing Harlan. He'd be failing Sissy for putting her son in harm's way. He never meant to hurt anyone, it was accidental. He was innocent.

"Look, I know how it looks, but Harlan didn't ask for this. If we hadn't gone back to 1963, if I hadn't saved him-" Viktor tried to deescalate

"He killed Jayme and Alphonso, not you." Luther retorted angrily, "He's the reason we're in this mess, and he's our only way out of it."

Although at this point Five wanted a distinct decrease in interpersonal conflict, no matter what way he looked at it Luther was right. Every plan he had started with getting access to the Kugelblitz without Sparrow intervention or retaliation. And the only plans in his mind that seemed to be plausible for that were the ones where Harlan was traded for access. It was a trolley problem, but the choice was easy to make.

"Luther's right." Five agreed "If we're gonna have an iota of a chance of getting out of this alive, we need access to the Kugelblitz."

"There's only four of them left. We can just overpower them." Viktor retorted frustrated

Five looked at Viktor bewildered. That was a stupid idea. It might've been only four of them, but they were still an incredibly strong team. Did Viktor forget the last time they fought the Sparrows? They got their asses kicked unbelievably hard. Trying to fight the Sparrows again was like willingly signing their death certificates.

"What, and risk losing some of us in the process?" Five snapped

"What? Like your girlfriend?" Viktor retorted

Five's bewilderment morphed into rage. How dare Viktor insinuate that you were weak and would die if they all tried fighting the Sparrows. Not only was that not true since you, one, beat all of them on your own, but two, they LIKED you. Even if you fought on the Umbrellas' side, the Sparrows most likely wouldn't be willing to engage you in that fight given the prior reasons. And on top of it all now, Five was very willing to sacrifice Viktor if it meant you stayed alive. Any concerns that Five might've had about sacrificing Harlan went out the window the second Viktor made that comment.

"No. Actually, she would be fine." Five berated "Because unlike you and the rest of us, she was able to single-handedly beat the Sparrows."

Viktor grimaced at Five's comment. Viktor's words came out before he fully thought them through and now there was no way he was getting Five back on his side. He had to try though, right? Opening his mouth, he was about to speak, but didn't get the chance as Luther remarked,

"Yeah, but we don't have her help now because someone had to make her hate us all."

Anger filled Diego as he whipped to face Luther. He had never meant to upset you, and to have whatever mistake he made thrown in his face did not feel good. But since Luther wanted to keep score of what caused your anger, Diego would too. Stepping up to Luther, Diego shouted,

"You made the family comment!"

"Well, YOU pissed her off enough to think that way!" Luther shot back "How hard was it to say 'yes, I love you'?!"

"ENOUGH." Five yelled

This conversation was heading in a direction that he didn't want to go to. You were upset and that's why you left. There was no discussion necessary because everyone was to blame. If they didn't cause the Kugelblitz none of this would be an issue. But unfortunately, they did cause it so now they needed to focus on fixing the problem. With the two giant idiots now quiet, Five turned back to Viktor and let out a heavy breath before more calmly saying,

"Listen Viktor, Harlan is insignificant."

"You told me once that no one is insignificant." Viktor replied

Five went quiet as he heard his words thrown back in his face. He had said that because it was true. In the grand scheme of timelines and outcomes, anyone could affect what happened. But things were different now. Now, they were talking about one person versus the rest of the world. Yes, Harlan was significant, but he also wasn't. He was the key to getting in the door of the academy and saving the world but after that, in the grand scheme of things he didn't matter.

Viktor looked around at his siblings waiting for someone to say something, but no one spoke. In that moment, Viktor tried his best to appeal to the humanity in his siblings, by quietly stating,

"They'll kill him."

However, his appeal was met with blank stares from the rest of the group. However, it didn't mean they had thoughts on what he said. Speaking up, Lila stated the obvious fact of the matter, saying,

"Uh, so? We are talking about one person versus saving billions of lives here. I mean, is this really a debate for you people?"

"Hey, Little Britain? You don't get a vote." Viktor angrily retorted

"Lila lives in this universe too." Klaus finally chimed in "Besides, she's family now. Kinda, sorta."

"Thanks, kitten." Lila thanked

"I don't give a shit about the Sparrows," Diego interjected "But I'm not gonna let scary-ass Grandpa finish you off."

"Five days ago, he was just a little kid." Viktor pleaded "And what? Now I'm supposed to just decide whether he lives or dies?"

Although Five was still upset at Viktor's comments and was fully ready to hand Harlan over to the Sparrows, he still cared about his brother. And his brother cared about Harlan. It was difficult, but if they were going to save the world and all the people left in it they had to trade Harlan to the Sparrows. It was the only way.

"Viktor, we're down to ethical triage here, all right? We can't save everyone." Five explained gently "The kindest cut wins."

Stepping forward from the rest of the group Luther looked down at Viktor. This was difficult, but it was necessary. Viktor had always wanted to be a full member of the Umbrella Academy, do what they did, and now this was his opportunity whether he liked it or not.

"You always wanted to be on the team. This is what it is." Luther added, mimicking Five's gentle tone "Saving the world means making the hard calls."

"I hate this." Viktor replied quietly

"Yeah, I know." Luther sympathized before quietly stating "I'll go get him."

Luther started to walk past Viktor. He knew how difficult this would be for Viktor so instead of arguing about it, Luther internally volunteered himself to go. But before he could get too far, Viktor turned to face him.

"Wait, no." Viktor called before adding "Let me do it. He trusts me. I can convince him to come quietly."

Before anyone could protest his decision, Viktor had already walked passed Luther and gone up the stairs toward the room Harlan was in. With Viktor gone and the beginnings of a plan in place, the rest of the group slowly dissolved as most of them went their separate ways in the hotel until it was time to trade Harlan to the Sparrows. As the rest of his siblings and Lila walked off he stayed at the bar, pouring himself another drink and wondering where you went.

The thing was, you didn't really know where you were going. Driving away from the Hotel Obsidian, you made your way down the apocalyptic streets of the city. There were even more abandoned cars, missing posters drifted in the wind, and random items were scattered about the sidewalks. The world seemed to have no direction, but neither did you. Where could you go when the city you once called home was now a graveyard? Your brain was numb and while your eyes were on the road, you weren't particularly focused. It was as if you were driving for driving's sake. Trying to escape something, but you couldn't quite get away.

Physically you were alive. Your heart still beat, your synapses still fired, your organs were all in relative working order, but mentally, you had died. You didn't know where to go. Most places that came to mind were just another reminder of what you had lost. Your head spun as you thought of your friends. Their laughter. Their voices. You swore you could hear it, clear as day.

"Where are we going, (Y/N)?" You heard Addison ask

Hearing her voice, your eyes shot up to the rearview mirror only to be met with a set a deep brown eyes looking back at you. But with your powers, you could feel that no one was there. Quickly, you turned off into a side alley before parking the car. Closing your eyes, you placed your hands over them as you quietly said,

"I can't do this again..."

"Do what, (Y/N)?" Kenny's voice asked

You gripped tighter at your head as if that would make him go away, but you knew it wouldn't. And just like that, it was as if you were 13 again. Stuck in a new world, with no parents, no home, and all your friends gone. You were the one thing you never wanted to be.

Alone.

You had worked so hard to get the Umbrellas out of your head after you lost them. You pushed through night terrors and vivid visages of your beloved friends trying to return to some semblance of normalcy. You had pushed away the pain of their loss, half through brute force and half through the support of others like Grace, Eudora, and...Diego. But now, you had no strength to push through, nor anyone to lend you support. Yes, you had Five, but he had more important things to worry about, and so you were right back where you started. Sad, alone, and begging for the phantom visions of your lost friends to not hurt you any further.

Lifting your head from your hands, you looked into the rearview mirror again. Tears began to well up as you saw the faces of your friends in the reflection. You tried to find your composure, but could only manage to gain a few scraps of it.

"You're not real." You stated, your voice wavering

"Of course we're real," the vision of Lucas replied "We're your friends."

"I don't want this!" You shouted, the tears falling from your eyes

"But you want us enough to need it." Dean's visage replied calmly

Dean was right. You wanted your friends back so badly that your head was creating them for you. It was the same reason it did so when you lost the Umbrellas. It was supposed to be comfort, but it was still pain. And for as much as you wanted them back, you didn't have the strength to do this. It hurt too much. Your eyes shut as you held your head in your hands once more. Your hands covered your ears as your fingers gripped tightly at your hair. Curled up as best as you could in the driver's seat, you screamed,

"GET OUT!"

Things went quiet, and when you opened your eyes, they were gone. Slowly, you turned around to look at the back seat. It was completely empty except for a few items scattered about it. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the console into the back as you picked them up. Lucas' sunglasses. Addison's lucky bracelet. Kenny's flask. Bren's leather jacket. You pulled Viktoria's phone out of your pocket and placed it in the pile in your arms. With each item, you pressed them against your chest, holding them close as you began to sob once more. This was all you had left of them. A car and everything in it.

You didn't know how long it took to stop crying, but once you did, you felt empty again. At this point, you had given up on miracles, but you wished you could at least have something to distract your mind. Maybe if you got some air something would come along to distract you. You looked down at the objects in your arms. You didn't plan on going far, but you couldn't leave them behind. You had to keep your friends close. Carefully you placed the objects down on the passenger seat as one by one you placed them on your body. You put Bren's jacket on, followed by Addison's bracelet. Kenny's flask went into one jacket pocket while Lucas' sunglasses went in the other, on the same side you wore Addison's bracelet. They were in love, you had to keep the two of them together somehow. And then you placed Viktoria's phone back into your pants pocket. With all of them accounted for, you turned the car off and took Dean's keys out of the ignition.

Stepping out of the car you locked the driver's side door, but before you could walk away something told you to open the trunk. You were pretty sure you knew what was in there. The bag of money Kenny stole, the bag of fanfiction Viktoria put together, and the miscellaneous clothes that your friends had worn prior to the thrift store, and yet you still felt compelled to open it. Walking to the back of the car, you stuck the key into the trunk lock and opened it up, and while you saw exactly what you thought would be there, the was one more item you didn't expect.

Dean's bow and arrows.

The only time he ever took it off was to drive and for some reason going into the hotel was the one time he didn't bring it with him. You let out a sigh as you carefully picked up the bow and quiver of arrows. Granted, it wasn't his old bow, it was the one you gave him, but even for the one day he had it, it was his. And with this discovery, the three things your brother loved most were all in one place: his bow, his car, and you. But he wasn't here to be with them. It was your job to take care of it now. Anyway, with your knives gone, you needed a new projectile weapon so it seemed that this would be your best option. Throwing the quiver over your shoulder you attached the bow to it the way you had seen Dean do many times before. With that settled you closed the trunk of the car, locking it with the key once more before looking ahead. Walking to the front of the car, you patted the hood as you said,

"Stay here, Veronica. I'll be back."

And with that, you started to walk down the alley you had parked in and took a look at the surroundings. On your right, there was the backside of brick buildings and to your left, it looked like that of a warehouse. There was something familiar about this place, as if you had been here before. However, you had lived in this city practically your whole life so many places felt familiar. But this, this was different. It was uncanny. And then you saw it, a set of double doors that you had encountered before. This wasn't just any warehouse. This was the warehouse you almost died in at 17. Out of all the alleys you had pulled into, you ended up in this one. It was almost funny the way the world toyed with you. In your timeline, this place had burned to the ground, but in this one that had never happened and so here it was completely intact. You stood in front of the double doors and contemplated going in. You hesitated for a moment wondering if reminding yourself of that day would be good for you right now, but it wasn't like your day could get much worse at this point, right?

With a shrug of your shoulders, you walked through the doors and into the building. Light came in through the dirty and broken windows illuminating the copious amount of dust. Machines sat broken and the place was abandoned as ever. You wondered what happened in this timeline for it to be left in this condition. In your old one, it was still functioning just severely unsecured. Making your way down the halls you came to a large opening, and found yourself in the same room where everything had gone down five years and two timelines ago. It was still terribly humid in the place, but the air felt mustier than you recalled. Looking around, you could practically see the events of that day replaying in front of you.

Melted guns on flesh, arrows to organs, broken skulls, snapped necks, drowning from the inside, you remembered how all of it played out. You recalled the way in which your body tore at itself from overusing your powers, the current wounds on your forearm and collarbone mimicking the ones you got that day. And then over to the side of the room you saw it, the now-defunct and most likely empty gas tank. Unlike that day when you had rushed over, today you walked slowly, your steps echoing across the floor as you remembered the events that occurred. The last drug dealer alive threw his lighter into the tank and Bren didn't notice as he began to run beside it. You stopped walking and looked at the spot you now stood in. It was the same spot you had jumped over to and pushed Bren to the ground behind you. You mustered all the strength you had left that day to use your powers and protect him from the explosion. All you could recall was the terrified look on Bren's face and then everything went black.

A selfish part of you wished Kenny hadn't saved your life that day. If he hadn't then you would've never had to live without your friends. Never had to fight multiple apocalypses. Never had to grieve their deaths multiple times. Never have been left alone like this. But then again, you'd never want them to feel the pain that comes with the loss of a friend. You knew what that pain was like before you had ever lost them, and you would do anything to make sure they never felt that. Perhaps it was better this way, better for them to die together and you to be alone, rather than the reverse. The last thing you needed was your death turning your friends into the Hargreeves, although you hoped they knew how to stick together better than the Umbrella Academy. Nevertheless, it was an isolating situation as you quietly stood over the site of your almost-death.

However, the quiet did not last as you heard the sound of a door slam in the distance. With the sounds of footsteps approaching, you tried to use your powers to lift a nearby pallet so you could knock out whoever was coming, but all it did was make you feel nauseous. It didn't hurt you to use your powers, but you still needed time to recover from the last energy wave and surely you wouldn't last long in a fight. As the footsteps drew closer to the room you were in you knew you had no choice but to go for a more direct approach. Pulling out Dean's bow and an arrow you lifted it up and pulled the string back just as Dean would've. And as the figure rounded the corner into the room you were in you let the arrow fly. At rapid speed, the arrow shot toward the unknown figure and punctured straight into...the wall next to them.

"What the hell!" The figure shouted

Wait. You couldn't see the person, but you certainly recognized that voice.

"Benjamin?" You questioned, a mix of confusion and annoyance in your tone

You saw as he began to angrily march over to you. His expression was a mix of shock and exasperation. God damn it. You didn't want to deal with this asshole.

"You could've killed me!" Ben shouted angrily

"If I wanted you dead, you would be." You deadpanned

That wasn't fully true. You missed lodging the arrow in Ben's shoulder by about two inches. Dean had given you a few lessons on using his bow and arrow and while you were a decent shot you certainly weren't as good as he was. The only way you could match his accuracy was in your knife-throwing skills, but that wasn't an option anymore. However, that information did not matter because Ben didn't need to know it. What mattered was figuring out what his plan was though. If he was here, he had to have some type of motive.

"Why are you here?" You demanded

Ben stopped in his tracks as he heard your question. His attention locked on you as he retorted,

"I could ask you the same question."

Pulling out another arrow, you raised the bow up once more and aimed it at Ben. Since he was closer now, you were certain you wouldn't miss him this time. And while you didn't want to insinuate a potential fight, you needed him to answer so you could figure out if he was actually a threat or not.

"We both know how capable I am of killing you." You replied firmly "Answer my question."

"Fine." Ben spat "Just put the bow down."

Slowly, you lowered the bow and arrow, but you kept them in your hands, ready to raise them back up if necessary. You stayed quiet, looking at him sternly as you waited for his response. You watched as he took a moment to assess the situation, his eyes darting at the room, the bow, and you before he answered,

"Since the Umbrella Academy killed Alphonso and Jayme yesterday Fei has been sending out her birds to keep tabs on them. One of them spotted you coming here, so I came to investigate."

Your face filled with disgust at the way he spoke. He talked as if finding you here was some sort of retcon mission and the fact that you were possibly being tracked since yesterday did nothing to improve your mood. But then the actual words he said processed through your mind and your stern expression fell as a sad look overtook your face.

"Jayme and Alphonso are dead?" You questioned sadly

Ben looked at you. From where he stood your body language was more relaxed than it was a minute ago and while you still held the bow in your hands, he had a feeling that you weren't going to use it again. When Fei mentioned that one of her birds had spotted you out this way he knew he had to come find you. There was something about you that puzzled him and he wanted to figure it out. He didn't even care that Fei snickered at him as he rushed out the door to find you because he had to. But if he was going to find out why you were in an abandoned warehouse then it would be easier to do so up close. If he could see your face better, he could read you better. Believing that you weren't going to threaten him harm again, he slowly approached as he responded,

"Yeah. The weird old guy with the Umbrellas, Harlan. I watched him kill them."

Harlan? Wasn't that the little boy that Viktor had accidentally given powers to? It had been 50 years though so it makes sense he would've been an old man now. You wondered how he came to be in this area if he was from Texas. Had Viktor sought him out or did Harlan find Viktor? Either way, it was upsetting that two more losses had occurred even if you only knew them briefly. You looked at Ben. Unlike your Ben who you could easily read, this one was closed off. You couldn't tell if the death of his siblings affected him or not, but you weren't one to take familial death lightly. Carefully, you placed Dean's bow and arrow back into the quiver. Even if you weren't his biggest fan that didn't mean your sympathy completely went away. With sincerity in your tone, you said,

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to go through that."

Ben paused, the slightest look of confusion on his face. He couldn't remember the last time someone expressed sympathy toward him. He tried to wrack his brain for at least one moment, but none came. No one had ever told him that he didn't deserve to go through the things he faced before. He looked at you intently, your voice was sincere, but he wanted to see if your face was too. He thought that maybe this was just a ploy to get his guard down, but when he looked at you, your expression was soft and your eyes, they were sad, but not in the disappointed way his family had looked at him before. Quite the opposite, your gaze was apologetic. You were genuinely sorry that his siblings had died. He stared at you unsure of what to say and slowly began to step closer, but as he looked at you he began to notice details about you that he hadn't before.  Parts of your body were covered with gauze, your cream-colored outfit was splotched with maroon markings that he now realized were dried blood, and your eyes that were soft and apologetic toward him were red and puffy as if you had been profusely crying.

Seeing you this way, it was as if something ignited inside Ben. He could feel as his heart rate increased, the beat of it drumming faster than it did on any mission. He felt infuriated. Not at you, but at the fact that you looked this way. His hands shook slightly at his sides and he felt like he needed to go out and fight someone, but he didn't know who. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stand seeing you hurt like this. With a serious look on his face, and his voice firm and steady, he questioned,

"Who did this to you?"

Your sympathetic look contorted into a frown as you heard his question. Your wounds, both mental and physical, were fresh. The grief and rage of what had happened not to long ago still coursed through your veins.

"Blame the people who killed your siblings," You spat "Their selfish inaction is killing me."

Ben scowled. He already didn't like them, but knowing this made him even more disdainful. He couldn't explain it, but part of him wanted to march right into that hotel and start picking them off.

"The Umbrellas did this?" Ben questioned, vile in his tone

"The black hole caused by them existing in this timeline did this," You stated gesturing to your wounds before gesturing to your red and puffy eyes and adding "And their lack of initiative to stop it, leading to the deaths of my friends, caused this."

Ben's contempt for the Umbrellas continued as you elaborated on what had happened, but there was a part of him that felt a twinge of guilt. When Viktor and Allison came to the Academy to tell them that things were disappearing he initially dismissed them. Now that it had become a bigger issue he did recognize the threat, but he didn't really care about it until now when it had affected you. He wasn't going to open his mouth and tell you that though. Right now you weren't on good terms with the Umbrellas, so perhaps he could get you with him on the side of the Sparrows.  It would be nice to have someone competent like you by his side. And also the Sparrows could use your strength. But to do that he had to continue to build some type of rapport. Trying to keep the conversation going, Ben asked,

"So why are you here?"

"I don't know. I just kinda ended up here." You explained, "I guess there's something familiar about the place where my friends' and I's fates were almost reversed."

"Almost reversed?" Ben asked curiously

"When I was seventeen I should've died in this warehouse. In this exact spot actually." You answered, pointing at the spot on the floor where you both stood "Only reason I survived was I took a massive dose of epinephrine straight to the heart."

Ben's face dropped upon hearing your words. His curiosity washed away and his gaze turned to look at the floor beneath his feet. He was standing on the spot where you almost died at seventeen. His body tensed and there was a pang of familiarity in his chest as wicked memories he tried to forget played in his mind. Seventeen...far too young to experience a near-death experience.

"How?" He asked quietly, his gaze still on the floor

Typically, this wasn't a topic you shared with others, but before you could stop yourself though the words just tumbled out of your mouth,

"My friend Brendon, Bren, he- he didn't know the gas tank over there was going to explode. He didn't see the lighter go in the tank and-"

You stopped. Your brain rushed with the events of that day again except this time everything moved slower. You had made your decision to jump in front of Bren in less than a second, but thinking about it again you recalled the one other thought you had before you jumped in front of him. You looked off in the distance toward the defunct gas tank.

"When Ben died, I technically didn't even exist. I couldn't save him. I never got the chance." You explained softly "But I could save Bren. So I did. I wasn't going to let history repeat itself and I didn't care what it would cost me."

Ben's gaze left the floor and back toward you once more. His eyes did not meet your own as you looked off in the distance, but he could see the pained look on your face. Mournful, sad, regretful. Part of him wanted to say something to you, that he was sorry for what happened, that you shouldn't have had to go through what you did, but it felt like the words were caught in his throat. He didn't really know how to articulate it because feeling this way was discouraged by his father. He said sympathy was weak, and yet you were stronger and far more favored by his father than him and still you were kind. But before he could find the ability to say something he saw you open your mouth to speak and so he kept his shut.

"But it doesn't matter because he and the rest of my friends are all gone and I'm telling you all these things because- I don't even know why!" You exclaimed frustrated before quietly adding, "Probably because you're the only one around..."

As you said those words you looked back at Sparrow Ben and for the first time his expression had no anger in it. It was gentle and...sympathetic. You paused. The way he looked at you, it was the same way your Ben would when he was concerned about you. When everyone else was off doing their own things during each apocalypse he always sought you out and made sure you were okay. And he looked just like that.

"What's that look for?" Ben questioned, noticing the change in your demeanor

"You just...look like Ben." You answered quietly, gesturing toward him

Ben's sympathetic look morphed into one of frustration as he exclaimed,

"I am Ben!"

Your face dropped as you heard his outburst. Your sad look changing into annoyance. He certainly was NOT Ben.

"Not to me. You're not my Ben." You deadpanned "You're Benjamin."

You were so infuriating. His name was Ben, he was Ben and you refused to acknowledge him as such. Why? Why wouldn't you address him properly?

"Why won't you call me Ben? It's my name!" Ben ranted

"You've never given me a reason to do so. You've never done anything to show me you deserve the name more than him."

Ben frowned at your answer. Everyone kept talking about this other Ben. This seemingly perfect other Ben. Why? What was the point of bringing him up? He was apparently dead while Ben was right here. And yet they all compared him to this other one.

"All of you treat this other Ben of yours like he's so special." Ben complained

"He's only special to them because he's dead. If he was alive they'd treat him the same way they treat each other." You snidely remarked "Poorly."

Ben looked at you surprised. Your tone was filled with contempt as you talked about how the Umbrellas treated each other. He could see your point though, they weren't quite a united front when it came to things and seemed to constantly undermine each other. However, your statement only covered why this other Ben was special to the Umbrellas.

"He wasn't special to you?" Ben asked confused

You let out a sigh. Quite the opposite, Ben was very special.

"No, he was. But it's because he was my friend. We worked well together, I saw him when no one else could and he listened to me when no one else would." You explained softly "That's what made him special. Who he was, not the fact that he was gone."

You missed Ben. When you told the Umbrellas he was the only one who treated you like family, you meant it. You made him feel seen and he made me feel heard. You saw him, you spoke to him, you gave him the recognition and connection that he had craved for all those years he was stuck with just Klaus. And he heard you, he noticed you when your demeanor changed, he sought you out and always made sure you were okay when no one else seemed to remember to. You respected each other. You understood each other. You missed the Ben who was your friend, your family, but all you were stuck with was his abrasive, confusing doppelgänger.

Ben stood still as he processed what you had said. He honestly didn't know how to react to your explanation since you spoke so kindly of him. Well, this other version of him. He was special because of who he was? Ben had heard something like that before from his father, but that was in relation to his powers and what he could do with them. However, special in that context meant to show how he was above others. In yours, it was a term of endearment. You liked that Ben. You cared for that Ben. But would you ever see him that way too? Ben tried to shake the thought from his head. He didn't like how easily you found your way into his thoughts. It was distracting. He needed to switch the topic.

Just a few minutes ago you had mentioned the black hole causing trouble in the world. Allison and Viktor had brought it up to him and Fei yesterday morning as well. Of course that was before they actually found it in the basement, but he wondered with your abilities did you know where it was?

"So this black hole...do you know where it is?" Ben asked, his tone indicating the awkward change in topic

You raised an eyebrow at him as you tried to figure out what he was getting at. Why would he jump from asking about Ben to asking about the black hole? Was he trying to get information out of you or was he just bad at conversation?

"Uh kinda..." You hesitantly responded, "I can sense its direction when a wave hits, but I can't feel its location without one."

"Why not?" Ben followed up

What kind of conversation was this? Could you even call it a conversation with how weird he was? It didn't really seem like he had an actual plan coming here and was just winging it. You were curious to see how this would play out though, it's not like there was much else of intrigue going on in your life.

"Because it's a fucked up black hole. It doesn't play by the rules." You replied before elaborating "When a wave happens, the black hole is releasing the potential energy that had built up inside it and distributing it across the world. As it does this it sucks certain things in with it because it needs more fuel so it can continue to sustain itself. When it's doing that I can feel it because its energy is disturbing everything."

"So you can't feel it now?" Ben followed up

Was that not what you had just explained? It's not like you were using a lot of big words or technical terminology. It's like he wasn't even paying attention. Did he actually care for your answers or was he just looking at you with a stupid expression just because?

"Were you not listening? Without a wave, it's in a homeostasis of sorts." You explained slightly more exasperated "All of its energy is contained inside of it while the outside is normal. Well, my definition of normal."

Ben could feel a slight heat rise to his face as you asked if he was listening. He was. Well, at least he thought he was. He was looking at you, and he was watching you speak, but the words seemed to fade away a little as he watched you. But he understood now, and to demonstrate his understanding he stated,

"Oh, so it's a paradox."

Okay, maybe he was listening to you. But if so that just meant his face looked stupid in general which was certainly unfortunate for him.

"Yeah, something like that. Schrödinger's energy." You replied "But that is for the Umbrellas to figure out. I literally don't care anymore."

A silence fell over the room. You looked at Ben and Ben looked at you, but there were no more words being exchanged. The silence wasn't awkward though, it just felt empty. It felt like there were more words or at least there should be more words. Maybe it was because you were lonely, but part of you wanted to talk more. Having someone to talk to, even if they weren't your first choice of person, was better than being alone and far surpassed accepting conversation with the voices in your head. But with nothing else to be said, there wasn't really any point in staying.

"Well, this has been...interesting, but I'm going to go now." You stated as you began to walk away

Ben looked at you shocked. No, no you couldn't go. He had only found you a few minutes ago. You had only just started talking. He hadn't even gotten a chance to get his bearings on the situation yet and now you were leaving? Where were you going? The only place you had was Hotel Obsidian.

"You're going back to the hotel?" He questioned

"And run into the life-ruining squad? No thanks." You scoffed back, continuing to walk "I'll figure out somewhere else to go."

Watching you walk away he knew he needed to do something to stop you and before he could even realize he had said it, Ben blurted out,

"Go to the Academy."

Stopping in your tracks, you turned to look back at him. You were surprised he had called out to you, but it was a decent suggestion. At this point where else did you have to go? You couldn't go back to Kenny's, you couldn't go home, and you still weren't ready to face the Hargreeves at the hotel again. And so, all that was left was the one place you kept coming back to. The Academy. With a shrug of your shoulders, You reluctantly replied,

"Okay."

Ben looked at you shocked. He didn't actually think that would work. He thought he was going to have to convince you more to go there. He had already started forming his argument in his head to try and get you to the Academy, but now he was at a loss for words.

"Wait? Really?" He questioned confused

"Yeah." You replied bluntly before turning around and beginning to walk away again

Ben stood frozen as he watched you walk away. He hadn't gotten far in his planning and once again you had flipped his brain upside down. You were so unpredictable. He hated how he couldn't understand you. At this point, all he wanted was to be able to understand you. It certainly would help to dispel the confusion he felt every time he interacted with you.

As you continued to walk toward the door you could feel that Ben was far behind you. Glancing over your shoulder you noticed him still standing in the same spot you had left him in. Encouraging him to follow you called out,

"Hurry up you cephalofuck!"

Snapping from his trance, Ben realized not only how far you were but what you had just called him. Cephalofuck? Really?! Quickly, he started to make his way over to you as he shouted,

"Don't call me that!"

You didn't respond though as you walked out of the main room of the warehouse and back to the door to the alleyway. As you retraced your steps to the door you came in you could hear the sound of speed walking behind you as Ben shouted,

"Wait up!"

You kept going though, and when you made it to the set of doors you came through, you walked through them back outside. Taking a step off to the side, you leaned against the brick exterior as you waited for Ben to exit the building. After a few moments, one of the doors widely swung open and you watched as Ben quickly looked around for you. Catching your gaze, Ben trudged over to you, his hands balled up angrily and his classic scowl present on his face.

"You could've waited for me!" He complained

"I'm waiting now, aren't I?" You remarked

Ben paused. You were so frustrating! You made him so frustrated! He didn't even know what to say. He stopped for a moment trying to find the words, but through gritted teeth, all he could do was point and say,

"My car is that way."

The way he was pointing was in the complete opposite direction of Dean's car and you couldn't just leave Veronica here. It would be wrong. That was your brother's baby. That car is your first niece. Her father was dead, you couldn't just abandon her. You'd be a terrible aunt for that.

"Yeah, no." You rejected "I'm not abandoning the car I came in. You want me to go to the Academy you either have to drive alone or get in with me."

"How can I trust you won't just go somewhere else?" Ben inquired

"Where else do I have to go?" You questioned back

"I-I don't know!" Ben exclaimed frustrated

"Listen man, you can either learn to trust people or you can get in the car with me, but I'm not leaving it behind." You explained

Ben was perfectly capable of trusting people. As the rightful leader of the Sparrows, Ben trusted his siblings to listen to him when they went on missions. Ben trusted his father's judgment. Ben trusted that civilians would respect him went he went out in public. Ben had plenty of trust.

"Fine. I'll go with you." Ben relented "But only because I can TRUST that my car will be okay."

Oh boy. Reginald had really screwed him up, hadn't he? This Ben had no clue what genuine trust was. Genuine trust came with vulnerability and from what you saw, he refused to be vulnerable. Part of you wanted to explain to him what real trust was, but twenty-nine seemed a little too late for an outside intervention. Instead, you gave a shrug of your shoulders and nonchalantly replied,

"Whatever cognitives your dissonance, dude. The car's this way."

Turning away from him you walked down the alley from which you came and headed back to your car. The only sounds you could hear were that of your footsteps and Ben grumbling to himself behind you. You couldn't make out the words he was saying, but you could assume he was ranting about you. It was a shame you ran out of fucks to give just an hour ago, maybe if you had one you'd care to coddle his ego just like you had done with the rest of the Hargreeves. Oh well!

As you arrived back at Veronica, you used the key to unlock the driver's side door, but as you opened it to get in you saw Ben stop. His eyes looked over the car for a moment, before judgmentally commenting,

"This is your car? It looks old as hell."

Technically, he was correct. Veronica was a 1967 Chevy Impala making her quite old, but his tone of voice mentioning that fact was off-putting and offensive to you. Veronica ran better than most cars these days because Dean took such good care of her. She was his pride and joy and you weren't going to let his snide remark slide.

"Excuse you, Veronica's exterior might be vintage but she was built for street racing and she runs like a dream." You retorted "Also, this isn't my car. It's my brother's."

"How did Diego get a car so fast?" Ben questioned

You grimaced at his question. While he didn't know any better given that you had referred to Diego as your brother the last time you spoke, you didn't like hearing Diego being called that. He wasn't your brother. In your experience, a brother was someone who cared for you, and now you knew, Diego did not.

"Diego is not my brother." You spat before adding "This is Dean's car."

"Who the hell is Dean?" Ben asked confused

"My only brother." You remarked quickly "Now get in."

Ben had a few questions about some of the things you had just said, but he could see your frustration building. He wondered if offering to beat up Diego would appeal to you, but his gut told him not to push the issue. With a curt nod of his head, Ben walked to the passenger side and got in the car as the two of you silently drove back to the academy. Ben wanted to say something, but he didn't exactly know how. He didn't think you'd react nicely to him talking about himself and his accomplishments as part of the Sparrows, but he also wasn't sure how to ask you about well...you. Everything you had mentioned so far was either surface level or something that had upset you, neither of which he could build a conversation off of. Instead of talking, he opted to look out the window of the car as he watched the messed up remains of the city go by as you made your way back to the Academy.

It didn't take long, but soon enough the two of you pulled up in front of the building. Without saying much you and Ben both exited the car and headed inside. As you entered the foyer, you could see Sloane walking down the stairs and when she caught sight of you, her eyes lit up.

"(Y/N), you're back!" Sloane exclaimed excitedly, coming over and giving you a hug

"Hello, Sloane." You greeted, hugging her back

As she held you, you could feel her hug getting tighter, and while emotionally you felt comforted by being held, physically you were extremely uncomfortable.

"Augh." You groaned in pain

Scared she had hurt you, Sloane pulled back from the hug and when she took a better look at you, she noticed the bloody bandaging on your hand and face.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" She asked concerned

"I'm fine, it's no big deal." You deflected

That was only partially true. You did feel better than you did right after it happened, and your injuries weren't actively hurting you, but the soreness that came with touching those injuries was still present. Your deflection did nothing though as Sloane pressed,

"No, you should have Grace take a look at you."

"I'll be fine." You deflected once more

"No, I insist." Sloane replied concerned "(Y/N), this is your home, please let Grace take care of you like she takes care of us."

With it seeming like she wasn't going to drop the topic until you agreed, you nodded your head and said,

"Okay."

Linking arms with you, she guided you upstairs to the medical room of the Academy with Ben trailing closely behind. Sloane didn't need to guide you, you had been here before and knew where it was. Nevertheless, you didn't pull away as it was comforting to have someone care. As you made your way into the med bay you sat down on the bed in the room.

"Let me go find Grace and send her here." Sloane stated

You watched as Sloane walked back out the door of the med bay and off to find Grace leaving only you and Ben in the room. He leaned against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked in your direction. Why was he still here? It didn't bother you that he was, but at the same time, you couldn't understand why he would want to stay. Your Ben always stuck around because he cared, but you weren't close to this Ben the way you were with yours. Did he care or was this some type of 'hero' reflex where he couldn't leave until you were deemed saved? You were sad and injured, but you weren't weak. You didn't need saving.

"You don't have to stay with me, y'know." You mentioned

After the words came out of your mouth you could see his face change. What was once a neutral expression dropped into that of a frown. It looked almost like he was hurt by your comment.

"Oh." Ben responded "Okay..."

You watched as he stepped away from the wall and walked toward the door. He looked back at you for a moment, his gaze lingering and his face still reflecting an emotion of hurt, before turning and walking away. Aw, man. You felt a little bad for sending him away. Maybe he was actually being nice and now you were all alone waiting for Grace to show up.

You sat for a few minutes in empty silence before hearing footsteps approaching. Looking at the doorway, you wondered if Ben had come back, but instead, you were met with an odd sight. It was Grace, but she didn't look like herself. Her wardrobe and hairstyle look almost cultish and she was missing an eye. As she approached she looked at you, but instead of the empty void you felt a few days ago there was something different behind her eyes now, but whatever it was it made you uneasy. You removed Bren's jacket and tied it tightly around your waist so that Grace could look at all your injuries including the one on your forearm.

You watched carefully as she undressed and cleaned your wounds, the peroxide stinging against your flesh as it seeped into what skin was still left open. At least most of the gashes were close to closing themselves. If there was one thing you appreciated most about your powers it was the regenerative factor. Carefully, she placed new, clean gauze over your injuries and when she was finished she turned away and quietly left.

After a moment you stood up from the bed you were sitting on and walked out of the med bay. Catching a glimpse of yourself as you passed one of the large glass windows in the kitchen you saw the blood that still stained your outfit. Since you felt better, you decided to use your powers to remove the dried blood from your clothes. Changing its state back into liquid, you pulled it out from the fibers of your clothing before floating the mass of old blood over to the sink and sending it down the drain. Now that you were all fixed up though, you weren't quite sure what to do, so you headed downstairs in hopes of finding someone in the house. Not Grace though. Someone other than Grace.

As you went through the hallways the Academy was quiet and felt empty. Even though there were far more people living here now than you had experienced while living here, it still felt so hollow. Walking down the main staircase you looked around the foyer before noticing Ben standing next to the fireplace, looking up at his portrait. Approaching from behind you attempted to initiate a friendlier conversation by jokingly commenting,

"Y'know, you'd be prettier if you smiled."

You watched as Ben slowly turned to look back at you. He seemed confused by your comment as he awkwardly began to smile at you, although it looked more like he was grimacing.

"I meant in the painting." You commented, gesturing toward the picture

"Oh." Ben replied, his grimacey smile dropped as he said "It was a serious portrait."

Walking over to him, you stood by his side and looked up at his portrait. He was so young in it. Granted he wasn't as young as Five was in his, but that didn't make it any better. His eyes were filled with sadness even if his face seemed neutral and his hand gripped the arm of the chair he sat in tightly. Charlie had done this painting and he always painted what he saw. You know that Charlie had mentioned in his journal that he didn't want to paint it given what you had told him about Five's portrait. And you could see why, it was nothing like Charlie's art style. It was somber and dark and what it represented was nothing that either you or him stood for. You looked away from the painting and toward Ben. His face was hardened as he looked at the painted version of himself. You didn't know what he had done this time compared to that of Umbrella Ben but you knew that he didn't deserve this as his consequence.

"Yeah, I know it was." You said quietly "I'm sorry you had to pose for that."

"Sorry?" Ben replied confused before stating "My father honored me with that portrait."

"Benjamin, I want to believe you're smarter than that." You replied "You and I both know, it's not an honor to have your portrait over the fireplace. It's a punishment. A reminder to not step out of line."

"What do you mean?" Ben questioned

"Five had a portrait too. Charlie painted it after he ran away through time, but it wasn't made in memory of him." You explained, "It was a reminder to the rest of the Umbrellas of what happens when you don't listen to Reginald."

Looking away from Ben, your attention turned back to his portrait over the fireplace. As you recalled it was the same spot where Five's portrait hand hung in the first timeline and that of your portrait too earlier in this one. You hated the fireplace portraits, they were nothing but a reminder of the control Reginald had over the Umbrellas, and now the Sparrows too.

"I hated looking at that thing, I thought about burning it every day." You commented

"Did you?" He inquired

"No."

Now it was Ben who looked at you, your eyes trained on the painting of him above the fireplace. The expression on your face was confusing, he couldn't tell if it was sad or angry. Perhaps both. He wondered why if you had hated Five's portrait so much you didn't burn it like you thought about doing. Personally, if he saw Five's portrait he'd consider burning it too, and more than likely he would follow through. Nevertheless, he was still interested in your answer as he questioned,

"Why not?"

"It was one of the only pictures where Five didn't have his mask on." You replied gently "I didn't want to forget his eyes...."

Ben scowled at your comment. Ugh. Why did you have to be so sappy about Five? What was so special about him anyway? Ben hated hearing about him from you. Ben didn't really know the guy, but something about Five just bugged him to his core. All Ben knew was that he was a jumpy little guy, probably the smartest of his siblings, and he was your...ugh...boyfriend. Whatever. Ben didn't want to think about him.

"Maybe you should've burned it if you hated it." Ben remarked

"Maybe I should've since having a portrait isn't a good thing." You replied before adding "The only good thing about your portrait being there is that mine isn't anymore. It's gone."

Ben's scowl faded away as he looked at you confused. Your portrait wasn't gone, it was just moved.

"It's not gone." He mentioned

"It's not?" You asked surprised

"No." Ben explained, "When mine was placed there it was moved to your room."

"Is that so?" You said aloud

All the times you had been at the Academy post 60s time jump you had never gone back into your room. It had never actually crossed your mind to go in there since you assumed someone else would've taken it, but looking back it made far more sense for it to still be there. The Sparrows were told that you would return like some messiah, so of course they would've kept your room untouched. Turning on your heel you walked away from Ben and back towards the foyer. You could hear from behind you as he called out,

"Where are you going?"

But instead of responding, you flashed away to the upstairs hall. Walking down the corridor you passed other bedrooms before arriving at your door. Opening it up, you stepped inside, and if it wasn't for the distinct lack of time travel nausea you would've thought you were thrown right back into the 60s. Just like your room at the hotel, this place was completely frozen in time with everything still untouched in its place except for the distinct portrait that hung on the wall over the bed. It was your portrait. The one Reginald had commissioned Charlie to paint as a birthday gift to you. Stepping toward it you looked at yourself. Well, not really yourself, but the idealized version of you that Reggie wanted you to be. The version he made others, including the Sparrows, think you were. As you stood there looking at practically a stranger with your face, you heard as a recognizable voice commented,

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Letting out a huff, you turned around to see Charlie sitting on the stool of your vanity.

"Oh jeez." You muttered before remarking "Let me guess, my brain sent you since I shooed the others away?"

"Well, one person is probably easier to handle than six." Charlie responded

"Hallucination." You corrected "Not person."

"Tomato, potato. It's almost the same thing." He replied

You rolled your eyes at the phantom your brain had come up with. While his presence didn't hurt as much because you knew he died of natural causes, it still didn't please you to have your mind playing tricks like this.

"What do you want?" You questioned

"To watch." Hallucination Charlie replied candidly

"Watch what?" You asked confused

"Watch that monstrosity go away." He answered pointing at your portrait "Doesn't take a genius to figure out you'd get rid of this thing the minute you got a chance."

While he was correct that you had been trying to get rid of this portrait ever since you had first saw it, you couldn't do so anymore. Sure, you and Charlie both greatly disliked it, but he had put in the time and effort to paint you. And now that he was gone all that was left of him were the works he created.

"I'm not going to get rid of it. You painted it." You spoke back

"Laaaaameee." Charlie's visage mocked "Can't believe my death made you soft."

"It did not!" You exclaimed annoyed

"Then destroy it- oh what's the word you taught me...oh right!" Charlie retorted "Shitwit."

"Rude." You muttered

"(Y/N), you and I both hate it, so obliterate it. Make sure that by the time you're done, there's nothing left of it. Because that's not you. It's the you Reginald wants you to be, not the one I know you are." Charlie explained

If it wasn't for the fact that you knew he wasn't there, you'd truly believe this was your friend in front of you. He looked like Charlie, he talked like Charlie, he was Charlie without actually being him. You watched as he got up from the stool and stepped over to you. His green eyes were bright and sincere as he placed a hand on your shoulder and said,

"If you're not gonna do it for yourself, then do it for me."

Even if he wasn't here you still couldn't deny a request from your friend especially when you knew that if it was actually him, he would've wanted this too. With a small nod of your head, you replied,

"Okay. I'll do it."

Charlie smiled at you and for a moment you actually managed to smile back at him. You turned away from him and went to open the window of your bedroom, but when you turned around to grab the portrait, he was gone. You let out a little sigh, but you couldn't stop now. Taking the portrait off the wall you began to shove it outside the window.

As you were doing this though, Ben walked into your room. He had assumed you had gone here based on the conversation you had in the parlor, but walking up here took longer than just appearing here like you could. As he entered though, he saw what you were doing and a sense of panic began to flood his system.

"Hey! Hey!" Ben shouted frantically "What are you doing!"

"I'm doing what I should've done the day this was hung." You replied back

With each hand holding one side of the frame you ignited the wood and watched as it spread toward the canvas.

"No stop!" Ben exclaimed rushing over to try and grab at the painting "When I said you should've burned it if you hated it I didn't mean this portrait!"

You didn't listen to his panic though and instead dropped the portrait out of the second-story window and on to the concrete of the courtyard. As it hit the ground, the frame broke into multiple pieces and the canvas ripped into a few parts. The flames that you had ignited slowly started to consume the once-grand painting until all that was left was flickering embers. You looked over at Ben with a neutral expression while he looked back in horrified shock.

"Are you crazy?! That was a masterpiece! It was an irreplaceable piece of art! You destroyed it like it was nothing!" Ben ranted

He couldn't believe what you had just done. That portrait was one of a kind. None of the other portraits that Mr. Anderson had done even came close to the quality of yours. Out of all the paintings in the Academy, including his own, yours was his favorite. It was colorful, and detailed, and lively. To him, it was like a bright spot in an otherwise dreary house and now it was gone. He looked at you waiting for some type of explanation, which he got in the form of you stating,

"It's what Charlie wanted."

Ben couldn't believe you. How did you know this is what Mr. Anderson would've wanted? Yes, Ben knew that you were his friend back in the '60s, but he died before you returned. How could you be sure that he would want his work of art to be destroyed? Surely, if it was up to Ben he wouldn't have destroyed it. It was a work unlike any other. If it was his painting, he would've shown the world how magnificent it was rather than leaving it in the shadows. Not knowing what to say to you, Ben gave one last look at the ashes of the portrait before walking away from you and leaving to go to his room.

You watched as he left, unsure of why he was so upset over the painting. It was technically your birthday gift so you could do whatever you wanted with it, but you didn't feel good upsetting him. Sure he was kinda a jerk, but he was probably just misguided by his upbringing, and once again, he looked genuinely hurt by your actions when you were trying your best to be nice. Was your grief making it difficult to be nice or was his background stopping him from accepting a little kindness? He was so back and forth that you couldn't tell. It was like there were two versions of him fighting inside for who got to be present in the moment, a kinder, gentler Ben versus the colder, more abrasive one. Nevertheless, you felt it was only right to try and smooth things over, again, given that he was more tolerable when he wasn't in a mood. Following his path, you stepped into the hallway of bedrooms and saw that only one was closed. Approaching the door, you knocked on it gently as you called,

"Benjamin."

"Go away." He responded

"Okay, yeah that's not how this works." You stated before phasing through the door

Ben turned around in his desk chair to look at you as he complained,

"God, what do you want?"

You didn't respond to him though as you took a look around his room. It was different than that of his room in the Umbrella timeline. First of all, this room was bigger than what your Ben had. It took you a moment to realize, but a wall must've been knocked down since half of this room was what used to be Viktor's in the old timeline. This Ben also had a poster of himself over his bed which is something your Ben definitely didn't. But the biggest difference was what covered the walls of the room. Instead of shelves of books and walls filled with notes, the walls were covered in art. Sketches, drawings, and a few watercolors were plastered across the space.

"I see why you're so upset about the painting." You said aloud "You're an artist this time."

"What do you mean this time?" Ben questioned irritated

"My Ben was more of a writer. He also read a lot. He just loved literature." You explained nostalgically "When he was alive we'd talk about the stories he was reading for hours. And after he passed I used to go into the courtyard where his memorial statue was and read his favorite books. I liked to think that he was on the other side listening and that neither of us was alone."

Ben went quiet upon hearing your response. Without even knowing it, you had stated the reason why he was so upset you burned the painting. Even though he hadn't met you until recently, he had enjoyed talking to your painting. He'd sit on the floor of your room describing his drawings and holding them up from time to time. Your smiling face in the painting was usually the only positive interaction he had, and just like you with the other Ben's statue, he liked to think you had been listening on the other side and that neither of you was alone.

Ben turned back around in his seat, facing his desk full of sketches once more as he tried to shove his feelings down. It was how he was taught to deal with difficulty. It was supposed to make him stronger according to his father, but usually, it just turned people away. He was difficult. At least that's what he had heard a lot from others before they left. He wasn't really sure if he knew any other way to be since no one stuck around to show him any different, but after years of people walking away from him, he was prepared for it to happen. And yet, he didn't want you to go. He wanted you to stay. Maybe instead of holding it in, he might just give it a try to say what's on his mind.

"Y'know you're wrong." Ben mentioned quietly "I'm not upset because I'm an artist."

"Why are you upset then?" You inquired

"Because that painting was the equivalent of your statue to me," Ben answered honestly

As the words left his mouth, you could feel your gut drop. You recalled how heartbroken you were when Luther and Diego broke Ben's statue. It was like killing your friend all over again, and now you had done the same to Ben. Sure you didn't know what it meant to him, but that wasn't a good enough excuse. You had seen him try to stop you and you kept going anyway. Oh god, what had you done?

"I'm so sorry, Benjamin." You apologized "I- I didn't think anyone cared about it."

"I did." Ben stated "But it's just a painting. I'll live."

"I'm still sorry, but we could make a new one. I see that your forte is drawing people." You commented trying to make things better

We? Ben was positive he had heard you correctly and you said we. Not he could make a new one. We could make a new one. Quickly, he turned around to look at you as he questioned,

"You can draw?"

Like everyone else you technically could draw, but when people asked 'can you do x thing?' they typically were asking if you could do that thing well. Your drawing skills were not on par with your piano, your dance, or your science abilities except for one instance and so you hesitantly responded,

"Uh...yes and no."

"I'm not sure I'm following." Ben replied confused

"The only things I can draw well are buildings and buildings interiors." You elaborated "But people, animals, plants- pretty much if it breaths I can't draw it."

"You were friends for years with an artist that my father deemed worthy enough to do all the portraits of the Sparrow Academy and you didn't pick up anything from him?" Ben questioned

His tone didn't sound condescending, but the question certainly did. Yes, you were friends with a talented and successful artist like Charlie, but that didn't mean it made you good as well. The only reason you could draw buildings and interiors was because that was a byproduct of your childhood. Maybe it wasn't his intention, but the question did make you feel bad as you looked at the art around his room.

"Uh, not particularly. While he would draw people or comic book characters I would be drawing rooms and buildings." You answered awkwardly "But with art of this quality that probably sounds pathetic to you."

Ben noticed your shift in demeanor. Had he upset you? He wasn't trying to. He was just curious. Jayme had always told him he had a tone issue though, but he never really understood what that meant until now. Trying to course correct Ben quickly shot back,

"No."

"No?" You hesitantly questioned

"Look around." Ben said gesturing to his art "You see any backgrounds?"

You looked around once more and he was right, there were no backgrounds it was all just people. All the faces were strangers to you though. Even with no backgrounds the skill he had in drawing people was still enough for you to doubt your own artistic ability. Art wasn't your main skill, you didn't practice it often like you did with your other talents, you just had muscle memory from copying your mom and enough upkeep to not permanently lose what you learned.

"You could still probably draw a better background than I could draw a portrait." You stated

"Is that a challenge?" Ben asked

What? A challenge? He thought your compliment was a challenge? How warped had Reginald made his worldview that not even a simple compliment could be accepted without the prospect of proving himself? While you knew it was probably a developed trait and maybe even a coping mechanism to hide some insecurity of his, it was still annoying and triggered your underlying competitive nature.

"No, I was actually trying to be nice to you since I had upset you, but fuck it, it's a challenge now." You remarked back "You draw me and the part of the room behind me and I draw you and the room behind you, and whoever has the better overall drawing wins."

While Ben felt awkward that he had misinterpreted your kindness as competition, he didn't mind this new outcome. He liked seeing the fire in your eyes about proving yourself. It reminded him of himself and he liked the feeling in his chest that he shared something with you.

"You're on." Ben replied, a smirk coming to his face

Turning back around he grabbed a sketchbook, flipping it to an open page before picking up a pencil and an eraser. Turning back around he extended it toward you for you to take. Once the items were in your grasp he stood from the desk chair grabbing another set of the same items before walking over to his bed and taking a seat. He watched as you pulled the desk chair closer to the bed and sat down on the seat across from him. Getting yourself settled, you looked toward him as you asked,

"Is there a time limit?"

"And rush the art?" Ben remarked back "No. Just draw until you're finished."

"Okay, jeez." You replied looking back down at the sketchpad "It was just a question..."

As you looked away, an awkward expression came to Ben's face. Did he really have that bad of a tone issue? He was just answering your question. Nevertheless, his attention turned toward his own sketchpad as the two of you began to draw.

The room was quiet as the both of you worked on your pieces, the only sound to be heard was that of pencils moving across sketchpads. Occasionally, each of you would look up from your papers, your gazes seemingly alternating as you both attempted to copy down the sight before you.

Drawing the room came easy to you. You had sketching the lines and angles of the bedroom and its objects down to a science. Every stroke of the pencil was intentional and the way you blended out the pencil marks in specific spots was methodic. You looked down at your hands and the dark graphite smudges covering your fingertips and softly smiled. Your hands looked like that of your mom's. Your mom the architect, the designer. Looking at your hands, it felt like a piece of her came back to life if only for a moment. But that moment was fleeting. Your drawing was nice to be sure, and if an average person saw it they'd probably be impressed, but it still wasn't close to the level of skill your mom had. And unfortunately, you'd never get to learn her tricks because she was gone.

Looking down at your drawing it was almost complete except for the blank oval in the middle of the page where you were supposed to draw Ben. You already knew this wasn't going to go well, but you still had to try. If there was ever a time for a hallucination version of Charlie to appear it was now, so he could give you advice on how to not fuck this up. But alas, he decided not to show so you were left to your own devices. Trying your best to remember what he would do, you started out with just a bunch of shapes in the general form of a body. Somehow, even though it was just shapes, it already looked bad. Your only hope was that by adding details it would somehow come together, so you started by drawing his polo shirt, his pants, and his hair.

And then you came to his face. You tried your best to capture his features, but with his head constantly being down looking at his paper all you could see was the right side of his face. Part of you wanted to draw an angry frowny face and call it a day but the detail-oriented part of you wouldn't let it happen. You saw as he looked up at you for a moment before turning his head back down, but in that moment you briefly caught sight of something on his left cheek. Leaning forward, you gently reached a hand out to try and tilt his face toward you, but the second your fingers brushed his skin Ben pulled back. With his gaze on you, you clearly saw what had caught your attention. It was a scar. Pulling your hand back slightly, you looked back at him waiting for him to say something.

But Ben didn't respond, he only looked at you shocked. The thing was, he wasn't shocked that you had touched him. Plenty of people had touched him before, whether it was his siblings in training, an enemy he was fighting, a persistent fan who just had to get their hands on him, or one of the girls at the clubs he would go to with Christopher, whose name he had forgotten right after they said it. He was no stranger to unexpected touch, but all those times it was aggressive, demanding, rough. But your touch, it was gentle.

No one had ever done that before...

"I just wanted to see it for my drawing." You said quietly

There was that sincerity in your tone again. Something about it made him pause and as his eyes darted over your face, he could see that your expression seemed almost worried, as if you were concerned you had scared him. You hadn't, at least not in the way you probably thought you did. It wasn't your action that had worked up his nerves, but the feeling he got from it. He felt fuzzy inside. Slowly, he leaned his face back toward your hand before hesitating. He wanted to feel your touch again, but for a moment his brain wondered if this was some type of scheme to catch him off guard. He looked at you once more, but your expression was the same worried look as you softly added,

"I wasn't gonna hurt you."

As you said those words Ben felt a twinge of...regret. It was an odd feeling since he had only felt this way a few times before, but the feeling was there. As your hand slowly began to pull back, he quickly leaned in, causing your fingertips to touch his scar once more.

You now looked at him shocked, your fingers pulling just centimeters away from his face, but quickly you realized what his action meant. It meant he trusted you. He trusted you wouldn't hurt him. It felt like a bit of a switch-up from the Ben you had interacted with thus far but, you were the type to reciprocate energy. If he was going to trust you a little, you could trust him back. Gently, you placed the tips of your middle and ring finger back on his cheek as you carefully traced his scar. Ben closed his eyes as your fingers brushed the permanent mark on his face. For once, he seemed calm.  You wondered if he had ever actually felt calm before. You knew from the Umbrellas that the life of a Hargreeves was not one that knew peace, and with the way the Sparrows were you could only assume the concept of peace was even more foreign and warped to them. As you looked over his scar you wondered how he got it.

"Hmm." You hummed

"What?" Ben asked, his eyes opening back up to look at you

"It's odd." You stated, "We don't typically do this."

"We?" Ben questioned curiously

"I've found it's rare for people like us, people with powers, to have visible scars." You commented, "Whatever happened, it must've been pretty bad to leave a lasting mark."

Ben looked down as he recalled the circumstances in which he got his scar. Even years after it happened he tried not to remember that day given its significance, but he couldn't help it. The memory flashed in his mind like a cruel reminder of his greatest mistake.

"Yeah...it was bad." Ben mumbled, "I failed."

"Was it the Jennifer Incident?" You asked

Ben looked up at you, the traces of hurt he felt from his memory quickly dissipating as he looked at you confused.

"No? I don't even know a Jennifer." Ben stated before asking "What is that?"

You looked back at him nervously. You had assumed that his scar was a different result of whatever happened to your Ben in the Jennifer Incident. Your Ben died, but this one did something different and managed to make it out with only a scar. But obviously from his response that wasn't the case.

"(Y/N), what's the Jennifer Incident?" Ben asked again

"It's uh-" You hesitantly responded "It's how Ben died."

"What happened?" Ben pressed

Pulling your hand back from Ben's face, you sat back in your seat, looked at the floor for a moment, and let out a small sigh. And as you looked back up at him, he could see grief in your eyes, similar to the look you had when he first found you at the warehouse.

"That's the thing. I don't know. No one would tell me anything except that it was a tragedy." You explained sadly

You looked around Sparrow Ben's room. You had to look anywhere but at him. He had everything of your Ben's. His face, his voice, his name, and yet he was still practically a stranger. The worst part though was that even though he was a stranger in your friend's body, you could see flickers of your Ben in him. There was his care and concern somewhere in there. His sense of understanding peeked through the bars of the tough persona Sparrow Ben put on. But it was the way he listened to you, that reminded you of Ben the most. It was so easy the way you could just start rambling to your Ben, and he sat listening and engaged, and somehow this one was the same. He was listening when no one else was.

"I asked Diego a few times over the years thinking that it was my age that was the issue. Y'know, don't tell a traumatized thirteen-year-old how their friend died. But when I got the same script over and over, I kinda stopped asking." You continued

"Same script?" Ben questioned

As you thought back to those times you asked you could feel a mix of emotions build in you. There was the obvious grief remembering your friend who was gone, especially when you were sitting across from someone who shared his name, and face, and currently a part of his personality you missed. Then there was the frustration that you never learned what happened. And finally the anger at the response that you were always given.

"Yeah." You scoffed before reciting in a mocking tone "It was a tragic accident. Ben died because we failed as a team. Nobody was responsible yet we all were responsible. Ben Hargreeves represented the best of us. Ben was the Umbrella Academy."

Crossing your arms over your chest your eyes finally met Ben's once more. The amalgamation of your feelings reflecting on your face as you complained,

"It's a bunch of avoidant bullshit if you ask me."

You looked away again as silence took over the room. Your mind wandering away from thinking about Ben's death and instead focusing on Diego's resistance to tell you what happened. All the times you asked, he could've just stated what happened, but instead, he always recited the same stupid script. Your eyes moved to the floor and your voice was low as you broke the silence mentioning,

"I guess he never trusted me enough to tell me the truth..."

As Ben saw the change in your demeanor he could feel a tightness build in his chest. It was similar to the feeling he got when his Dad would reprimand the Sparrows after a mission, but not quite the same. There was that feeling of something wrong, but less in a disappointment way and more of a drive to do something. He wasn't particularly interested in having you reconcile with the Umbrellas, they were assholes and the less you wanted to be around them the more time you would spend with him. However, he still felt inclined to do something. Trying to change the subject, he switched back to the original topic as he inquired,

"So what about you?"

"What about me?" You asked confused, looking back at him

"So you don't have scars?" Ben asked

"Oh. Typically no." You answered before explaining "When I was sixteen I tore up the entire left side of my face. It was really bad, but by the next morning it was like it never happened."

"What happened?" Ben asked

"It was..." You began to speak

But then you stopped as you recalled that day, the memories playing in your mind like a bad movie. As you shut your eyes you could hear Diego and Eudora's voices shouting at each other. You could see the anger on their faces and the hurt in their eyes as the fought. A chill ran down your spine as you remembered the cold downpour of rain that washed over you are you rode your bike away from the scene and you winced as you recalled the pain of your face scraping against concrete.

Ben watched as you winced and your expression filled with pain. He already could tell that whatever you were remembering, it wasn't good. It was the same way he'd react to his bad memories before he started pushing down the feeling. Shit. He was trying to make you feel better, not worse. God, why was he so bad at trying to be good? You made it look so easy.

"Forget I asked." Ben quickly dismissed

Opening your eyes, you looked back at him as you tried to push the thoughts away.

"No, it's fine. It was...it was an accident." You finished answering before redirecting the conversation "But I mean, I do have these few scars from earlier when the Kugelblitz tore into me. They've already begun to heal over though."

You gestured toward the bandages that covered your gashes. Your injuries didn't sting much anymore, but when you moved the parts of your body they were on you could still tell they were there. Pulling the bandaging off your cheek you showed Ben the scar that was there. You watched as Ben reached his hand out slightly before pausing.

"Can I?" Ben asked

You nodded your head and Ben fully reached his hand out to trace your scar just as you had done to him. In a way, you were like him the way you were marked by a tragic event. Your scar was noticeable but faded like his, but while his scar curved downward yours went across your cheek. However, he had his scar for years while yours was apparently only acquired this morning and yet they were the same amount of healed. He wondered why others' injuries faded away so quickly while he was stuck with a constant reminder of his failure. Then again, was it actually easier to move on from a failure by having all reminders of that pain fade away quickly or would that lack of healing cause more pain in the long run? Either way, you both had been hurt by life and it seemed like neither of you was quite as healed as you liked to think you were.

"It's so faded." Ben commented

"Yeah," You responded "It'll be gone soon enough, like it never happened."

"But it did." Ben stated gently

You looked at him. His tone wasn't harsh when he said it, on the contrary, his tone was actually empathetic, but it hit you like a ton of bricks. It did happen. You may not physically bear your scars but they were there. These moments in time that had hurt you were real. They happened.

"It did." You said quietly

As Ben looked back at you, his expression was neutral, but you could almost see the corners of his mouth curve up as he mentioned,

"Well, until then it seems we're matching."

"Yeah, I guess we are" You replied before asking "Should we finish drawing?"

"Huh?" Ben said confused

"Should we finish drawing or have you given up on competing?" You taunted, gesturing to the sketchbooks in each of your laps

Ben looked down at his sketchbook before looking back at you. He had completely forgotten all about drawing, but as he heard the taunt in your tone his competitive spirit came back in full force.

"Absolutely not." Ben scoffed

"Then get drawing, Benjamin." You remarked as you picked back up your sketchbook

As your head tilted down to look back at your drawing, Ben picked his pencil and sketchbook back up and began to draw once more. Finishing the details of the wall behind you, he started to work on drawing you, but as he did so he noticed details he hadn't before. He noticed the way your hair fell around your face and how you kept having to push a particular strand out of the way. He noticed the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you bit your bottom lip when you were thinking about something. He noticed the way sunlight from the window fell on you giving you a golden glow. He noticed you. And so he drew what he saw, but it was a tedious process as he felt what he had created wasn't exactly right. He wanted the details he noticed to reflect on the page, but it took time and time again for him to feel what he had created was good enough. His poor eraser had been absolutely demolished between all the revisions he had made, but at a certain point, he finally felt happy with what he had created. And when he looked up from his sketchbook he saw you sitting there twirling your pencil between your fingers.

Seeing Ben look toward you, you assumed he was most likely done as you asked,

"Finished?"

"Yeah." He responded

"Alright then, you go first." You commented

You watched as Ben turned around his sketchbook to show you his drawing and when you saw it you were highly impressed. The background of his drawing wasn't quite as detailed or emphasized as yours was, but it certainly showed his skill for perspective. Where he really focused his detailing though was his drawing of you. It was quite different from drawings you had seen of yourself before. Most of them had been made by Charlie, and while he was a master of realism he typically drew you very stylized, like a comic book character. Ben's drawing however was somewhere in the middle, it wasn't quite one-to-one realism, but you could definitely tell that it was you. A very pretty version of you nonetheless.

"Wow, the only other person to ever draw me was Charlie,' You mentioned, "Your style is so different from his."

"Why? Is it bad?" Ben questioned

"No, it's amazing!" You replied enthusiastically "If only you could pursue art full-time. I think you'd really go far."

Ben paused a moment. He never really thought about life outside the Sparrow Academy. The Sparrow Academy was his everything. He was always told that his only responsibility was protecting the world so the thought of doing anything else seemed farfetched. Did you really think he could succeed at anything other than being a superhero?

"You think so?" Ben asked sincerely

"I know so." You stated confidently

It was odd. The confidence in your answer made Ben want to believe you, but believing you that he could succeed at something other than being a Sparrow meant that the last 29 years of his life were mostly a waste. And that was a thought he didn't want to confront. Pushing the topic away, Ben replied,

"Okay. Your turn."

"Right!" You exclaimed as you looked at your drawing

You looked at the details of the room you had drawn and you knew they would make your mom proud. Not that she ever wasn't proud of you, she always was, but knowing you were able to mimic her passion if only for a moment felt good. But then you looked at your drawing of Ben and...

Fuck.

He looked like a poorly drawn anime character...if you could even call it that. It was only comparable to when the Ouran High School Host Club characters were drawn with less detail to be funny. Except they had done that on purpose, and you, you definitely had not. Why did you let your competitive nature get the best of you? Why did you agree to this? You knew you couldn't draw people. This was a bad idea from the start. Granted the room you drew looked great, but the messy figure in the center really retracted from it. Letting out a defeated sigh you slowly turned the sketchbook around to show Ben and watched his face go through a journey as he looked at it.

"You're right. You are good at drawing rooms. The details are lifelike." Ben commented

You could tell his comment was genuine, but you could feel him holding back more thoughts. Surprised that he hadn't outright insulted your work, you prompted him to speak,

"But?"

"I don't look like that." Ben remarked flatly

"I told you I'm not good at drawing people!" You shot back defensively "I can only do backgrounds."

"And I said the background is good!" Ben responded, "It's just I've seen better art of myself before..."

"You know what?" You questioned snarkily "You wanna know what you really look like?"

"What do I really look like?" Ben inquired sarcastically

Angrily you flipped to the next page of the sketchbook as you quickly scribbled a drawing on it. It was not detailed in the slightest, but it was far more accurate.

"Like this." You stated

As you turned the notebook around, Ben saw your new drawing of him. It was a crudely drawn octopus with an angry frowny face. Ha ha. How clever.

"I definitely don't look like that." Ben replied unamused

"Yes, you do." You remarked playfully, as you held the drawing up next to his face "Your face is doing the same angry scrunch now."

"Whatever." Ben dismissed before asking "So if art is my thing, what's yours?"

"Well, I'm good at a lot of things."

"Well drawing people surely isn't on that list." Ben joked

"Shut up!" You snapped before calmly adding "But piano is the one I'm known for."

Ben recalled moments throughout his life when he heard mentions of your musical ability. He remembered a time when he and his siblings were pressing keys on the piano in the parlor, and when their father heard he stated they shouldn't even try to learn because it wouldn't compare to your ability. There were also the times when Pogo played his classical music records and would tell the Sparrows of his memories of you playing piano for him when he was a young chimp and how lovely the music was. Your ability to play piano was always described as something incredible and he always imagined being able to hear it himself.

"Oh, right." Ben commented "I bet you play beautifully,"

Ben paused. That was weird. Why did he say that? Trying to move away from it, Ben quickly added,

"So I've heard at least..."

"I can show you." You offered

"I'd like that." Ben replied gently

Your lips upturned into a small smile. You liked being around him a lot more when he was kind like this. It reminded you of Ben. Standing up from your seat you extended your hand out toward him.

Gently, he took your hand. He sat still for a moment letting the electricity of your touch flow through him. Your skin was soft and so was the way you held his hand. Ben felt as you pulled his hand closer to you, beckoning him to stand. Standing up he looked down at you, a tender smile on his face and he continued to hold your hand. It felt like a bright warmth surrounded the two of you as you stood together. However, just as soon as he was standing, your hand pulled away and as you turned to walk away, the warmth of being close to you faded. Although you couldn't see it, his smile dropped for a moment. He liked being close to you.

As you made it to Ben's bedroom doorway you turned back to look at him only to find that he wasn't following you. Weird. You thought you were going to show him your piano skills. Your head tilted slightly as you asked confused,

"Are we going to the piano together or not?"

Together.

Ben perked up at that word. His small smile returned as he walked over to you and replied,

"Absolutely. Let's go."

But while you made your way down to the parlor, Five was stuck in the lobby of the Hotel Obsidian. After everyone had left, Five had sat and waited at the bar for the time when Viktor would bring Harlan down for the trade with the Sparrows. Even with Viktor's rude comments earlier, Five could understand the difficulty of giving Harlan up. Viktor cared for him and while that was nice it definitely wasn't worth sending the entire world down the drain over. Harlan had apparently caused some difficulties to the point that the Sparrows were willing to work with the Umbrellas if Harlan was sacrificed. And so he had to be. There was no other way.

Sipping on another drink Five wondered where you were. You could've gone back to Kenny's house since you always mentioned in your diary that it was the main hangout spot for your group. But then again, that could be upsetting since there were so many memories there. Or perhaps you had gone back to your childhood home. It was completely empty given the fact that your parents never got a chance to meet in this timeline, but maybe there was still some comfort to be found there. Or you were somewhere that he couldn't even predict. Wherever you were he just hoped you were okay. He couldn't stop thinking about worst-case scenarios and all the ways he could lose you, especially after finding out his Commission Founder self failed to keep you alive.

Five could feel his heartbeat pick up slightly as the words his Founder self had written began to run through his mind once more. Rolling up his sleeve he looked at the phone number on his arm. You told him to only call in an emergency. Did his worry for you, his need to hear your voice and know you're alive, constitute an emergency? Currently, nothing was wrong.

Except for him.

He felt like his head was being pulled in a million different directions. The apocalypse. Witnessing his death. Your safety. His siblings' antics. Trading Harlan. Anticipating what comes next. The challenges he faced, the worlds he kept creating and erasing in his mind, they were exhausting. It felt like he didn't even have a moment to spare for himself. A moment to think. A moment to breathe. Every time he got one of those they immediately slipped away. All he did was survive and even then, another version of him didn't make it. Would he?

Five tried to push the thought from his mind. He couldn't question it, he had to survive. He had to survive for the same reason he always did. You. Carefully, he pulled the ring he had found out of his pocket. Trying to calm himself, Five looked at the ring in his palm and envisioned a life of mundane joys with you. Grocery shopping, taxes, household chores, taking a walk in the park. God, it seemed so nice. If he had one hope, one wish, it was to be able to live a simple life with you. His mind wandered to thoughts of better days and simple times by your side, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Luther asking,

"Viktor come by yet?"

Pulled from his thoughts, Five looked up as he saw Luther walking toward the bar. Quickly, he shoved the ring back into his pocket. The last thing he needed was Luther seeing it and asking him questions.

"Oh- uh- no." Five replied trying to collect himself "Not yet."

"Well, I'm sure they'll come around soon." Luther stated as he finally reached the bar

Five nodded his head at Luther's statement, but did not have much of a response to add. His head was still trying to switch gears from thinking about you to thinking about the apocalypse again. There was a silence between the two brothers as they stood by the bar together. It wasn't particularly awkward, but it wasn't enjoyable either.

Luther looked around at the space. Just mere hours ago he had gained and then lost a son and then was told that he didn't know what family meant and that he was a selfish, stunted adult. So far, today was not great. Your words had stuck with him though. Did he know what it meant to actually be a family? Had the Umbrella Academy ever really been a family to each other? There was only one period of time where he truly felt connected to his siblings and that was when everyone was the same age and they had you as a friend. Your words were hurtful, but were they true?

"Hey, Five?" Luther asked breaking the silence

"Hmm?" Five hummed in response

"Do you...do you think what (Y/N) said is true?" Luther hesitantly questioned

"Be more specific." Five replied, "She said a lot of stuff to a lot of people."

"The whole family thing..." Luther quietly replied, "You think she's right?"

"Well, I never think she's wrong." Five stated

Five's response wasn't what Luther was looking for. He wanted more of an explanation of why you would think that, and to his knowledge, no one knew you better than Five. He waited a moment to see if Five would elaborate, but when no elaboration came Luther pried harder,

"Yeah but like we are a family, aren't we?"

"In namesake I suppose." Five responded flatly

"What about beyond that?" Luther pressed "Y'know connection wise? We're siblings aren't we?"

"We are." Five answered before adding "But if what she said bothers you this much that means some part of you believes she might be right."

Luther shifted uncomfortably as guilt began to grow inside him. The feeling settled in his gut as he was forced to confront the reality of his relationships with his siblings and the way he treated them. And you.

"Maybe..." Luther replied, his voice low "I just...I don't understand what the difference is between her definition and ours."

While Luther may have forgotten what the difference between you and his siblings was, Five never forgot. That difference was what kept him going in his darkest of times. And if the truth of this difference would get Luther to reflect on himself rather than trying to get some type of relief for his cognitive dissonance out of Five then he needed to hear it.

"The difference is love, Luther." Five explained seriously, looking him dead in the eyes "We were raised on conditions and achievements and outcomes, but she was raised with unconditional love. We expect results from each other, her only expectation is to be loved back."

As he heard those words, Luther went quiet. His mind replaying moments with you from across his life. He recalled how nice you were when you were both children and the way you'd listen to his interest in space and encourage him to talk about it more. You constantly told him you were proud of him while his father never even uttered those words once. When Luther was happy, you were happy. He then thought about how you had acted when you were different ages. If he was cold to you, you were cold to him, and if he was kind so were you. You always gave back what you were given, but even so, you were still willing to help. You still cared. You always cared. But, besides Five and until recently Diego, they treated you like some type of stepping stone. You were a means to an end. There was no question about it...

You were right.

You had loved them and they just used you. They used each other. If they weren't a family then what were they to each other? What is family anyway? However, before the thought could eat at him more, Klaus sauntered up to the bar to join him and Five. Looking between his brothers, Klaus asked,

"What are we hanging around here for again?"

"Viktor and Harlan." Five responded, "Remember?"

"Oh right." Klaus recalled

Reaching over the bar, Klaus grabbed himself a drink before hopping on the bar top and sitting crisscross on it. A silence fell over the three Hargreeves brothers as they waited for Viktor, but it didn't last long as the ding of the elevator rang through the empty lobby. The trio looked out at the lobby and watched as Viktor began to walk past the bar. Seeing Viktor, Five walked away from the bar with Luther close behind.

"Hey." Five gently called out "It's time."

Hearing Five's voice, Viktor stopped in place. For the past few hours, he had been working out this plan to get Harlan to safety, but through it all he had forgotten to come up with what he was going to say. Freezing up, he could only stare at his brothers in silence.

Not seeing him with Viktor, Five looked back toward the elevators for where Harlan could be. He was an old man after all, he couldn't be far. But as he glanced at the back part of the lobby no one was there. Looking back at Viktor, Five asked confused,

"Where's Harlan?"

Still not knowing what to say, Viktor bluntly stated,

"He's gone."

Hearing those words, Luther immediately knew what had happened. It was honestly stupid of him and the rest of his siblings to think Viktor would do anything other than this. And in a way, this proved your point from earlier even more to Luther. You said they only cared to help each other when they needed something and that they were all selfish. Once again, you were right.

"You let him go, didn't you?" Luther stated

Realizing what was going on, Five looked at Viktor a mix of shock and disappointment on his face. How could Viktor do this? He was risking the sake of the world and the safety of everyone left in it for one insignificant person. This trade was supposed to be their entry into accessing the Kugelblitz and Viktor selfishly threw it away. If the Kugelblitz continued who knew what could happen to people? Who knew what could happen to you. Frustrated, Five turned his back to Viktor. He couldn't stand to look at him right now.

Viktor however was not of the same mindset. He knew his siblings would be upset, but it wasn't worth it to him to trade Harlan to the Sparrows.

"Harlan's death is not gonna stop the Kugelblitz. It's just gonna be another tragedy on a tragedy, and we can find another..." Viktor immediately defended "I will find another way."

"Well, congratulations, Viktor." Luther retorted "You managed to destroy everything. Again."

To Luther, your point of view was becoming ever more clear, and if there was any love between the Hargreeves siblings there certainly wasn't a visible amount of it. And just like you, he didn't want to be here anymore. He'd far rather spend his time with someone who actually cared about his feelings. Sloane. With an annoyed shake of his head, he walked off toward the front doors and out of the hotel.

Five watched as Luther walked away and for only a moment turned to look back at Viktor. He didn't have many words to say, but one thought did linger.

"I really thought you were smarter than that." Five said disappointed

With a roll of his eyes, Viktor silently walked off. Taking a few steps forward, Five watched as Viktor walked out the doors leaving the hotel. And then there were two. From behind him, Five could hear as Klaus sarcastically commented,

"Well! That went great!"

Five knew that Klaus' comment was sarcastic in nature, but it didn't stop the disappointment at how unfortunate this was. With one person's decision their whole entry into saving the world, again, was gone. Five wished that for once his siblings wouldn't stall or roadblock saving the world, but unfortunately, it seemed that was not something they were capable of. And while he already agreed with your opinion on his family, this just made him empathize with it more. Slowly turning around, he saw as Klaus took an actual seat at the bar rather than on it and reached for a nearby bottle of vodka. Feeling confused and defeated Five made his way over to the bar and sat in the seat next to Klaus. He watched as his brother grabbed two shot glasses and poured heavy-handed drinks into them.

"There." Klaus stated, sliding one of the glasses over to Five

"Thanks." Five replied

Today was a mess. Granted, most days of his life were a mess, but somehow today felt so much worse. He found out he created the Commission to save you, he found out that he was unsuccessful and you died, he watched you get torn apart by the Kugelblitz and lose all your friends, he watched your relationship with the rest of his siblings dissolve and you walk away from the Hargreeves family. And while all of those distressed him there was something about facing his own mortality that truly haunted him. Seeing his death forced him to confront his failures. If that version of him went to so many lengths to save you and the world and yet he still died old and alone, where did that leave him?

"I saw my future self die." Five mentioned quietly

"That's crazy. Almost the exact same thing happened to me." Klaus explained "But I didn't die, but I did, but..."

"He told me not to save the world. And then he died." Five spoke at the same time as Klaus

"I don't know..." Klaus added

"What do you think he meant by that?" Five questioned

Hearing each other's statements the two of them looked at each other with slight confusion.

"Well, shouldn't you know?" Klaus asked

"Shouldn't you know about your-" Five began to ask back

However, as he saw Klaus raise his shot glass he realized it wasn't worth it to ask and dropped the topic. Picking up his shot glass he gestured it toward his brother as he said,

"Salut."

"Well, up your ass." Klaus chimed back

Five shot Klaus a look as Klaus downed his shot, but instead of lifting his own glass up to his lips Five instead let some of his thoughts tumble out. Typically, he would tell you these things, but since you were gone he needed someone to listen to him.

"Klaus, I've dedicated my entire life to stopping the apocalypse. Apocalypses, plural. And he tells me..."

"Mm-hmm?" Klaus encourages

"That it's... it's, what? It's meaningless?" Five questioned aloud as he continued explaining

"Oh, well, I don't know anything- " Klaus mentioned as he refilled his shot glass

"Maybe that's his way of saying not to become him, but..." Five trailed off

Letting out a heavy sigh, Five finally downed his shot of vodka. Maybe the alcohol could help him feel better, but he doubted it. It numbed his pain, but it never made it go away. The only thing that could truly make him forget about his pain was you.

"Oh, you're really messed up about this, huh?" Klaus commented

He was more than messed up about it, he was pretty much wrecked by it. His founder self had failed his mission and died, and now here he was on the same path practically doomed to repeat history if he didn't find some type of way to change things soon.

"I've cheated time so much, I guess I just figured I'd somehow cheat death." Five elaborated "But it turns out, I die alone as a one-armed nightmare inside a bureaucratic hellscape of my own design."

"Spoiler alert!" Klaus exclaimed trying to lighten the mood

Five didn't pick up on it though as he was still stuck in his own head. Reaching into his suit pocket he pulled out the tattooed piece of skin he had cut off his Founder self, placed it on the bar, and remarked,

"Not to mention the trashy tattoo."

"Is this your skin?" Klaus asked intrigued as he poked at the cut flesh

"I'll be damned if I go out with an old man tramp stamp." Five retorted

"If you don't wanna end up like this guy, why don't you just do something completely different?" Klaus suggested enthusiastically "Completely different- Move upstate, lose your virginity, become an alpaca farmer. I think (Y/N) would like alpacas."

Five thought about what Klaus had said. He could do something different. And living on a farm with you did sound pretty nice. Just doing anything with you besides the apocalypse sounded nice.

"Yeah, I could. The timeline's malleable. We've proven that much. I could try and break the cycle, but-" Five began to reply before cutting himself off and asking "Wait what was that second part?"

"Don't worry about it. You'll get there on your own." Klaus reassured, "Listen, just keep your arms and extremities away from sharp objects, and don't join the Mothers of Agony."

"What?" Five asked confused

"The tattoo." Klaus explained, "It's the symbol of the biker gang, the Mothers of Agony."

Picking up his Founder self's skin he looked at the symbol tattooed onto it again as he questioned,

"You know them?"

"Like two timelines ago, they were...how do I put it?" Klaus elaborated "My farmacistas."

Finding this out, the wheels in Five's head began to turn. He may have lost access to the Kugelblitz, but maybe someone in the Mothers of Agony could help him out. If his Founder self had been marked with their symbol it meant there was at least one person there who could give him some insight on how to fix this mess. Rolling the tattooed skin up, he placed it back in his pocket as he stated,

"This is good."

Five began to step away from the bar, but before he could get too far he realized he had no clue where the Mothers of Agony were. Turning on his heel he looked at Klaus again who was already pouring himself another shot.

"Wait..." Five asked, "Where are they located?"

"Corner of Morgan and Grove Street." Klaus answered, "Pretty hard to miss with all the bikes outside."

"Thank you, Klaus."

Leaving Klaus behind at the bar Five quickly blinked outside the hotel. Rushing to the sidewalk he stuck out his hand and hailed an oncoming cab. Before the cab even came to a full stop Five had already opened the door and sat in the back seat. Slamming the door behind him, he looked at the cab driver and said,

"Morgan and Grove. Quickly."

Turning to look at who had just gotten into his car and requested a ride to the intersection of Morgan Street and Grove Street, the cab driver gave Five a once-over look. He was slightly confused as to why this finely dressed young man wanted to go to an unwelcoming biker bar such as the Mothers of Agony, but he didn't care enough to ask. With a shrug of his shoulders, the cab driver faced forward again and began to head toward the destination as Five headed to his next clue in the puzzle of saving the world.

While Five was headed off to his next destination, you had already made it to yours. Like usual the parlor of the Academy was empty. For something that was supposed to be the fancy equivalent of a living room it sure always felt dead in there. But off in the corner, you saw a familiar sight of the grand piano you'd play. As you walked over to it, Ben seemed to linger a few paces behind, but that wasn't really something you were focused on. Approaching the piano, you could see the lid was closed and covered in dust. How long had it been since someone touched this? Had it sat silent all these years? Wiping the dust away, you opened the lid and ran your fingers over the keys, not pressing any of them yet and instead admiring the feeling. There was something comforting about feeling the keys beneath your fingertips. Perhaps it was the familiarity, but as you continued to caress the ivories, your hand stopped at one specific key. You hovered over it for a moment, but with one press a single G note echoed through the parlor. From the corner of your eye, you could see Ben's head snap to look toward the piano, and as you turned to look at him a smirk came to your face.

"I see someone had an emo phase." You remarked playfully

"Emo phase? I don't even know what that is." Ben replied defensively

Instead of responding to him though you went back to playing the intro keys to Welcome to the Black Parade but stopped before the final note. Looking back over at Ben you saw panic form on his face.

Ben knew that if he corrected you, you would know that you were right, but at the same time, it was practically disrespectful for you not to play the song's intro in full. He tried to hold back and keep himself from correcting you, knowing that's what you wanted, but the frustration of the incomplete intro was too much as he demanded,

"Play the last note!"

"Ha! I knew it!" You exclaimed

You saw as Ben rolled his eyes as you played the final note of the intro and released him from his turmoil. Although now you were going to have to deal with his annoyance at finding him out.

"So is that all you know how to play?" Ben deflected

"Benjamin, do you realistically think that's all I know how to play?" You questioned rhetorically

"No." Ben answered

"Exactly." You stated, "Now, you can either continue sulking that I found out you actually might have some music taste or you come over here and listen to me play like you said you would."

Ben looked at you for a moment, watching as you pulled out the piano bench and sat down. You were worming your way further and further into his brain and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He wasn't against it, and he wasn't really fighting it at this point anymore, but it was still a little scary how you did it with such ease. Softly, you began to play the sound of an ambling melody as Ben finally walked over to you. Sitting down next to you on the piano bench he heard as you asked,

"Any requests?"

In that moment it was as if his mind went blank and he had never listened to any music in his entire life. He could say Welcome to the Black Parade, but he'd probably never hear the end of it from you if he did. With nothing else coming to mind he answered,

"Uh no, you pick."

"Oh, there's so many choices. Classical, musicals, modern piano covers..." You rambled as you tried to think

And then it hit you. The perfect song to fill this lackluster house with some vibrance.

"Have you ever seen Howl's Moving Castle?" You asked Ben

"No, what's that?" He responded curiously

"It's a beautiful animated movie. The story is touching, the art is incredible and the music, the music is iconic." You explained "The song I'm gonna play is from that movie. Now, it won't quite be the same without the strings, but I'll make it work and hopefully, you'll still like it."

"If you're as good as people say you are, then I'm sure I will." Ben replied

"I am." You stated confidently

A smirk came to Ben's face at your response. He liked your confidence. It was one of the many things he was starting to admire about you.

Looking down at the piano you took a breath and placed your hands on the starting keys and after a moment of silence, you began to play Merry-Go-Round of Life. Slowly, the beginning of the piece flowed through the Academy, it's enchanting sound filling the silent halls. Closing your eyes you embraced the nostalgic feeling you got from the song, and as it approached the first string part you used your powers to press more keys than your hands cover making it so that both the piano and what was technically the string portion could be heard.

But as you moved through the piece, duetting with yourself and bringing life to the joyless building, you could hear the sound of strings playing in your head. Specifically, you could hear the familiar sound of a viola playing the string portion of the song. Opening your eyes you look up and past the piano and there she was, Viktoria, standing there with a smile as she played her viola along with you. As you looked off to the left, you saw the rest of your friends, including Charlie, sitting on the couches happily listening to you play. You knew in your head that they weren't there, but for a moment you'd let your heart believe they were. A small, bittersweet smile came to your face as you let the music flow through you and played in honor of the friends you lost.

Ben listened in awe as the gorgeous melody of the song filled the air. Even though you were playing one instrument it was almost like he was hearing a whole orchestra given how many parts you were playing at once. As the music danced through the room, and Ben watched you perform with all your talent he could feel emotion build up in him, but once again he couldn't find the words to describe it. But he could feel it. The feeling was warm and made his chest feel tight and his stomach do flips. He didn't think about it much though as he focused his attention on you.

That was until he saw something move up above the two of you. Looking up toward the balcony above the parlor, Ben could see his three remaining siblings standing there listening to you play. Sloane smiled with a dreamy look on her face, Fei stood leaning slightly over the balcony railing as she watched intently, and Christopher slightly swayed to the music. And as the song crescendoed their awestruck reactions reflected Ben's own feelings as he knew they were recalling the same memory he had of their father from when they were children. But now hearing you play, Ben knew their father was right, your abilities were beyond compare. Even if they tried none of them would've ever gotten to your level of talent.

Swaying with the music, you closed your eyes and played with all the emotion you had in you. You put your entire heart into the piece, at least all that was left of it. And as the song came to its end you opened your eyes once more and saw all of your friends were gone. You could feel slight tears prick your eyes as your moment of peace slipped away, and you were reminded of the fact that they weren't there to begin with and they never would be again. All you had left were the phantom versions in your mind that both helped and hurt you each time they appeared. As you lifted your hands from the keys and placed them in your lap you heard Ben compliment,

"That was amazing,"

"Thank you." You responded softly

Ben could hear the hint of sadness in your tone. It was faint and perhaps if he wasn't paying so much attention he would've missed it. Nevertheless, it was there.

"What's wrong?" Ben inquired

Looking away from your lap and toward Ben you could see the concern on his face and you heard the care in his tone. You didn't expect him to notice such a small change in demeanor but it was nice. It was familiar.

"I'm fine, it's just a memory." You recalled "My friend Viktoria and I would duet the song together. She played viola so she'd take the string parts while I'd play the piano. I heard her playing in my mind, but I know she's not here."

He looked down at the ground as he felt a pit forming in his stomach. Two floors below you was where the black hole that took your friends and tore you apart was, but you had no clue because it wasn't actively giving off a wave. Part of him didn't want to tell you about it. He was finally having positive interactions with you, and he worried if you found out that this whole time the thing that had hurt you was right beneath your feet and he hadn't told you, there was a chance that those would stop. Then again you'd probably find out at some point either through your powers, his siblings, or your annoyingly persistent...boyfriend. Perhaps it was better if he told you. At least then he could say he was honest with you. looking over at you Ben called,

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" You replied

"I want to show you something." Ben stated

You looked at him slightly confused. You had come down here to play the piano and now he wanted to go somewhere else? Seeing your hesitation, Ben added,

"It's important."

There was sincerity in his tone and you could see the serious look on his face. If it meant this much to him then you might as well see what it was. Nodding your head you replied,

"Okay."

"Follow me." Ben said, gesturing out of the parlor

Standing up from the piano, you closed the lid before following him out of the room. As you walked through the Academy, you made your way down the stairs, past the kitchen, and to the basement door. You looked at Ben concerned as he opened the door and began to walk down the stairs. What the hell was in the basement that was so important to show you? Cautiously, you followed him down the stairs and when you reached the bottom landing you could see a bright light glowing behind a wall down the corridor. You followed behind Ben as he walked toward the glowing light and as you rounded the corner you finally saw what he wanted to show you. You stood there in shock as you took in the sight of a bright burning orb floating in the air. It rippled and flared like a miniature sun and yet it wasn't really affecting anything right now.

"Benjamin...is that..." You began to question hesitantly

"The black hole? Yeah." He responded, "I thought you might want to know given well...y'know."

You looked at the orb silently. This thing had been the cause of most of your pain recently, both physically and emotionally. It was a danger to your existence and was continuously tearing apart your life. And yet as you, one anomaly, looked at another anomaly, you couldn't help be be slightly enthralled. You were born out of nothing and felt everything, and this black hole was born out of everything and felt nothing. The world was a sucker for balance and you and the Kugelblitz were opposite sides of the same coin.

Carefully, you walked closer to it. You knew it couldn't hurt you right now, as you described it to Ben, it was Schrodinger's energy, but you wanted to understand it more. As you stood about a foot away from it, you brought your powers to the forefront, rather than letting them linger idly in the background. With your back turned to Ben, your eyes glowed blue, and for a moment, it felt like nothing, but as you honed in a little more you could feel the potential energy of lying underneath the surface of the Kugelblitz. It reminded you of a pot of boiling water with a lid on top. From the outside, there wasn't really much feeling, but inside there was so much more going on. You could make out the feeling of the microbursts of energy beneath the calm surface and the way those bursts created more pressure inside. It scared you a little, how you were currently safe, but you knew that wouldn't last forever. Due to the "lid" it couldn't hurt you now, but the minute the Kugelblitz boiled over, it was gonna hurt again. And it was going to hurt a lot.

Slightly, you raised your hand toward the Kugelblitz to "feel" it better, but the moment you did so Ben grabbed your hand and pulled you back. But he was only able to hold on for a second before a rush of overwhelming pain coursed through his system causing him to drop to his knees. He grabbed at his head that now loudly pulsed as he let out a groan.

Your eyes reverted to normal as you returned your powers to the background. Turning around you looked down at Ben, as you reprimanded,

"Don't do that. Do you know how dangerous it is to touch me when I'm using my full abilities?"

"Do you know how dangerous it is to touch that thing?" He shouted "And what do you mean full abilities?! What the hell was that!"

"Literally the weight of the world. You just felt everything around us." You shouted back "My powers have an active and an idle mode. You could've killed yourself grabbing me when they're fully active like that!"

With his pain subsided Ben stood up from the floor and approached you. A look of frustration covered his face as he yelled,

"And you could've killed yourself if that thing decided to flare out! I was trying to protect you!"

You didn't shout back. Instead, you stayed quiet as you looked at him and in doing so you noticed something. The expression on his face that you thought was frustration wasn't actually such. It was concern. Genuine concern. yes, he had looked at you slightly concerned earlier in the day, but those times it still felt like he was trying to somewhat hide it behind some tough exterior. This, however, was out in the open. He was concerned and he wasn't hiding it...kind of like a friend would do.

"Okay." You responded calmly "It's an intriguing phenomenon, but I'll be more careful around it."

Ben paused. He felt good knowing you wouldn't get so close to the black hole but was confused by the fact that you weren't yelling back anymore. When he got into arguments with other people they just kept yelling until one person walked away, but you didn't walk away, you just stopped. It didn't feel like you relented either, you just calmed down and agreed. Was that normal for people? Because to him it felt...out of place. Not really knowing how to respond now, Ben replied,

"Oh. Okay."

You waited for him to say something else, but when nothing came you looked away from him and at the Kugelblitz once more. Ben mimicked your action and the two of you stood silently as you watched the glowing ball ripple. This was it, huh? The thing that was going to destroy everything.

"So does it hurt?" Ben asked breaking the silence "Feeling everything all the time?"

"It used to when I was really little, but not anymore." You replied "Well, except if Viktor uses his powers too much or that thing explodes. Then it hurts like a bitch."

"That sounds terrible." Ben remarked

Your powers weren't terrible, only the painful experiences that were a side effect of them. You loved your powers, they were an integral part of who you were and how you lived. Even when your abilities were idle you still felt everything and it was like the world was singing to you. For as long as you could remember the world was full of life and song and there was nothing you would trade that for.

"No. Excluding those exceptions, it's actually really beautiful. Everything has its own little hum and it's like a symphony that plays just for me." You answered, "What would be terrible is if it all went silent."

Your answer intrigued Ben. He certainly never considered his powers to be something beautiful. Until he learned to control his powers he found them to be mostly a burden, not that he would tell anyone that. And even now, they might not be a burden but there certainly wasn't anything beautiful about eldritch tentacles from a portal in his gut. If he could choose between his power or yours, he'd probably pick the versatile, deadly, and apparently beautiful one you seemed to possess.

"So what do your powers sound like?" Ben asked

"Oh well, it's less of a sound and more of a feeling. But it's like a loud feeling. Kinda like being next to a giant speaker-" You began to explain before cutting yourself off and saying "Actually, it would be easier to just show you."

Ben saw as you stuck out your hand toward him and looked at it hesitantly. He was interested in your offer, but not the associated pain that came with it. While it might not hurt you, it sure as hell hurt him and he wasn't sure if he was willing to experience that again.

Seeing his hesitation you could easily assume it was from the immense pain he had experienced only moments ago. Given that experience, he had every right to be hesitant, but you tried to ease his mind adding,

"It won't hurt this time, I promise."

Not getting a response from him though you extended your hand slightly closer to him as you asked,

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Ben replied gently, taking your hand

The word had come out of his mouth before he had even realized he said it. It had rolled off his tongue as if he had answered that question a thousand times before. The word came to him so easily, easier than it ever had before. Trust was a complex concept for him. The only person he truly trusted was himself. Even his trust for his siblings and father was conditional although some more conditional than others. And yet, as he looked at his hand holding yours, there wasn't a double in his mind that he trusted you without condition.

"Good. Now if you get lightheaded let me know. My friends didn't and they all passed out when I did this with them." You mentioned, "Also, if it starts to feel like your bones are vibrating out of your skin don't freak out, that's normal."

Ben's head snapped up from looking at his hand holding yours, as he quickly questioned,

"Wait what."

However, you did not hear his question though as you had already started bringing your power to the forefront more. The symphony of the world grew louder as you focused on emphasizing your abilities enough for Ben to feel them, but not to the point where it would hurt him. You were the only person who was cut out for fully feeling all that existed. Granted, it wasn't really a choice in the beginning, but it certainly was now and you wouldn't put that on another person unless they deserved it. As you slowly increased your focus you could feel the rhythmic hum of everything around you come together like an orchestra playing a song. Closing your eyes you peacefully embraced the feeling of it all and it was beautiful.

Ben however was trying to process feeling like his bones were going to vibrate out of his skin. You said that this was normal, but it certainly didn't feel it. As for his prior thought of wanting to switch powers with you, he immediately took that thought back. His heart was racing. Was he going to die? This was terrifying. More terrifying than his powers were before he learned to control them. How was this beautiful? But as he wondered if this would be over soon he heard you calmly say,

"Feel it, don't fight it."

He looked over at you. Your eyes were still closed and you looked peaceful as you took steady breaths in and out. He didn't know if he could stop fighting the feeling of his skeleton hatching from under his skin, but he was the one who agreed to this so he could try. For you. Closing his eyes as well, he mimicked your steady breathing as he tried to feel the same way you felt. For a moment it still felt like his insides were going to come out, but then the sensation changed.

Instead of one overwhelming vibration, it splintered off into a bunch of smaller ones. It felt less like an explosion and more like a blanket that surrounded him. Some of the vibrations were faster, and some slower, and yet they all came together in a coordinated way. And then he heard it. The loud hum you were talking about. You were right it was less of a sound than it was a feeling, but the longer he embraced it the more he understood your point. The way every feeling came together, it was like a symphony. It was your symphony and it was incredible. Opening his eyes, he looked over at you.

There was a peaceful smile on your face as the glow of the black hole reflected off your skin and as you held his hand he could feel that electric feeling rush through him again. And for a moment it felt like he couldn't breathe.

"I think I'm getting lightheaded." He stated

"Oh, that's enough for you then." You replied concerned

Quickly, and to Ben's internal disappointment, you pulled your hand away from him and put your powers on the back burner again. Looking over at him, you smiled as you commented,

"It's pretty right?"

"Very." He replied

Before you could say anything else, your stomach growled loudly and you could feel how empty it was. Huh. You were so distracted by the events of the day you totally forgot that you needed to eat.

"Hungry?" Ben asked

"Yeah. I haven't eaten since this morning." You replied

"Well, there's a diner a few blocks away." Ben suggested

"They got coffee?" You asked

"It's a diner, of course they do." Ben answered

"Alright, let's go then." You said

You took one last look at the Kugelblitz. You knew this thing, this frightening, intriguing anomaly, would be the cause of your demise, but you might as well make the most of the time you had left. And so ignoring the facts in front of you, you followed Ben out of the basement and back upstairs to go grab food at a diner. But as the two of you walked into the foyer to exit, you saw as Luther walked in the front door with Sloane. Whatever positive feelings you had just a moment ago quickly faded as you saw him. Your anger and annoyance came back in full swing as you watched him finally notice you. Part of you wanted to just turn invisible and walk outside the door, but the last thing you needed was Luther or Sloane stopping Ben because you walked out. Perhaps the two of you could get by them without an interaction. That thought was quickly disproven though as Luther awkwardly greeted,

"(Y/N). Hey."

"Luther." You deadpanned

It was obvious that you were still upset about earlier, and reflecting on it rightfully so. Granted, Luther hoped more of that anger was directed toward Diego although Luther did bear some fault. Trying to smooth things over, Luther began to explain,

"Listen about what I said-"

However, Ben could sense your annoyance. You didn't even like the Umbrella Academy members. You didn't want to see them, let alone talk to them. But beyond your annoyance, Ben could feel his annoyance grow too. You and him were supposed to be going to get dinner together and Luther had the audacity to stop you guys? Stepping forward, Ben cut off harshly,

"Does it look like she wants to talk to you?"

"Huh?" Luther replied, looking at Ben confused

You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to talk to Luther. Truly you didn't want to talk to any of the Umbrellas except Five, of course. He was the only one you weren't upset at because he was the only one who actually cared about you.  And this attitude that Ben was having about the situation wasn't desirable either. Sure, it was nice that he was supporting you, but you didn't need him to fight your battles. Especially when there really wasn't a battle to be had. Trying to avoid the situation, you walked past Luther to the front door as you called back,

"Benjamin, let's just go."

Ben gave Luther a dirty look before relenting and beginning to follow behind you, but right as you opened the front door you heard Luther call out,

"(Y/N) I'm so sorry about Lucas."

"Who's Lucas?" Sloane asked

"Our son." Luther answered

"What?" Sloane questioned confused

"I'll explain later." Luther said before repeating "(Y/N) I'm sorry about Lucas." 

And this was exactly why you didn't want to talk to any of the Umbrellas except Five because unlike him, they didn't get it. They didn't understand your pain, your grief, your anger. And they surely didn't understand that their apologies meant nothing now that it was already too late. Wasting your time with Ben was a decent distraction, but you still could feel that heavy, twisting feeling in your gut knowing that your loved ones were forcibly taken from you and there was nothing you could've done about it. You could feel emotion begin to build up inside you. Lucas spent his whole life through the good and the bad looking up to Luther and this is all he got in the end? A simple apology after he was already gone. Looking back over your shoulder at Luther, you tried your best to keep yourself together as you replied,

"Don't talk about him like you cared."

And with that, you walked out the door leaving Luther and Sloane behind.

"(Y/N)..." Luther called sadly

"Leave her alone." Ben remarked back as he stood in the doorway "Hasn't your family fucked up enough already?"

Luther wondered what Ben's deal was, but before he could try to inquire, Ben walked out the door pulling it shut behind him. Walking out the front gates of the academy, he made his way over to where you stood on the sidewalk. 

"You okay?" Ben asked

"Yeah, just caught off guard." You responded collecting yourself "I wasn't ready to face any of them yet."

"I can kick him out of the Academy if you want." Ben mentioned, "After all, it's our home, not his."

"Eh, it's not worth it." You rejected before stating "Let's just go eat."

And so the two of you walked away from the Academy and around the block to the diner

At this point, day had turned to night and a cool breeze blew down the city streets. The silence and the lack of life were even more evident at night compared to earlier in the day. It was eerie, but more so it was sad. As you rounded the corner of the block, you saw up ahead the place Ben was talking about. The neon sign might've said Greta's Diner, but you recognized the building immediately. It was Griddy's. Or at least it would've been if you were in the right timeline. You paused for a moment looking at the building as Ben continued to walk ahead. However, after a few paces, he stopped and looked back at you calling,

"Come on."

Picking up your pace, you caught up to him as the two of you made it to the building. Opening the door you stepped inside and took in the surroundings, getting hit by a wave of nostalgia as you realized they were the exact same. The layout, the color scheme, the entire vibe, it was all identical. 

"Well, this is the place." Ben stated before asking "Where do you want to sit? Booth? Counter?"

You looked around the place as memories rushed back to you. You remembered a few times with your friends, crowding the seven of you into one booth to enjoy some late-night pastries. There were the times when Eudora would take you here for a quick breakfast before dropping you off at school. And then there were the most important memories of this place. Your times with Five. You remembered sitting at the counter next to him on the day he returned back into your life, and those few nice moments before this apocalyptical cycle started. And then there were all the times you spent here as kids. You could practically see the younger versions of you and him sitting at the booth in the back corner. You with your jelly donut and him with his plain glazed one. You recalled the way the world would just fade away as you sat and talked for hours, day after day. It was nice. You missed that. 

Turning your attention back to Ben, you answered his question saying,

"Table."

It's not that you couldn't sit at a booth or the counter with Ben, but those places were special. If you were going to sit there then you should be sitting there with Five. Nevertheless, you walked over to one of the many open tables in the place and sat down across from Ben. While Griddy's, or well now Greta's, was never the hot spot to be, it never felt deserted either, but right now this place was a ghost town with only you and Ben in it. For a moment you even wondered if there was anyone working here before you saw a server finally walk out from the back. As she rounded the corner from the kitchen she looked surprised to see you and Ben there, but put on a nice customer service face as she approached the table. Seeing her customer service face, you felt bad for being here. You should've just tried to deal with Luther's presence and ate at the Academy rather than making this waitress serve you in the middle of a global crisis. It was too late though as she already had pulled out her notepad and greeted,

"Welcome to Greta's, what can I get started for you?"

"Coffee. Cream on the side." Ben stated before adding "Pork roll, egg, and cheese. Salt, pepper, ketchup."

"Okay." The waitress replied writing everything down before asking "And you?"

"Um, coffee and a plate of disco fries." You answered before quickly adding "And one jelly and one plain glazed donut please."

"Alright, I'll get that started for you two." The server replied, "I'll be right back with a coffee pot."

As the server walked behind the counter to get your coffee, you looked over at the booth in the corner again and thought of your boyfriend. As much as you needed this time away from the Umbrella Academy, you still hated leaving him. The only positive was he hadn't called yet which meant he probably wasn't in danger. Although, you wished he had a cellphone so you could call him instead of waiting for him to call you. Maybe that wasn't a good idea though. You were pretty sure he didn't know how to work a smartphone, and if his reaction to that vending machine that wouldn't give him a snack was any indication, a smartphone given to him probably wouldn't be functional for very long. However, that didn't stop the feeling in your heart of wanting to be with him. You loved him and you missed him. 

Soon enough the waitress brought back a pot of coffee, some cream, and two cups, placing them on the table for you and Ben. You gave her a polite smile before grabbing the pot and pouring some coffee into both, pouring slightly less in Ben's to make room for the cream he wanted. When you were done pouring, you placed the coffee pot off to the side and as Ben poured cream into his cup, he inquired,

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." You replied

"Where did you learn to draw so well?" Ben questioned "I mean buildings so well."

You elected to ignore his correction knowing that he was bad at talking and probably didn't mean it as a slight. But as you thought about the answer to his question you smiled knowing exactly why you were so good.

"My mom." You answered softly as you reminisced about her "She was an architect and interior designer. I always watched her drawing buildings and room interiors so that's all I ever practiced drawing too. I like to think I got pretty good at it, but it'll never beat her drawings."

Ben didn't expect your answer. You were so intertwined with that of the Umbrella Academy that he forgot that you weren't part of it. But what intrigued him the most was the way in which you spoke. You responded softly, but there was a reverence in your tone and although there was a smile on your face there was a sadness in your eyes. You missed her. He wondered what it was like to miss your mom. Ben had no memories of his birth mother since he was adopted right after he was born and Grace was never really a mother to him, just a maid. What was it like to have a mom? What was it like to have a parent you wanted to be around and be like? Was it nice? It seemed nice. 

"Do you want to be an architect like her?" Ben wondered

"No, I didn't really share my parents' passion for buildings." You explained candidly "My dad was an engineer. My parents owned an all-in-one architecture, construction, and interior design firm. They loved creating buildings, but me? Not so much."

"So what do you want to do?" Ben inquired curiously

A question that used to be so simple was now so loaded. You didn't know what you wanted to do anymore. You wanted to graduate high school, but you never existed in this timeline. You wanted to go to college with your friends, but none of them were around. You wanted to have a life with Five, but that seemed like it would never happen. You wanted to be fully happy, but how could you when everything was so wrong? There was nothing for you to want anymore, only things you wanted. However, that was too much to put on someone who had only known you for a few days. 

"My dream was to go to college and major in Chemistry with a minor in Physics. Maybe minor in music as well." You answered "I wanted to figure out a way to put my powers to good use. Solve some unsolvable problem. I wanted to help people."

"Wanted?" Ben asked confused before continuing "Why can't you do it? Is it money? I can pay for you to go."

"That's sweet of you, but-" You began to reply

"But what?" Ben pressed

"Benjamin, the world is ending." You stated matter-of-factly "There's no time for dreams anymore."

No time for dreams? No, there had to still be time. The world hadn't ended yet. There had to be a way for him to fix this. He was Number One of the Sparrow Academy after all. He was born and raised to save the world. There had to be a way he could make your dreams a reality again. 

"Isn't there time to stop this?" Ben suggested

"Pfft, to even try we'd need the Sparrows and Umbrellas to work together and that's like trying to mix oil and water and then setting it on fire." You scoffed "At this point, my only hope is that I die in one piece."

"Don't say that." Ben protested "You never know, maybe it'll work out."

You looked at him curiously as you replied intrigued,

"I didn't take you for an optimist," 

"Sometimes we find reasons to be." Ben replied sincerely

Before you could say anything else though your food had arrived. And as you heard your stomach growl once more you knew it was time to eat. But while you and Ben quietly ate your food, Five was struggling not to voice his opinions to his taxi driver. 

Even with Five expressing the need for speed on the drive, it still took a good bit of time to get from the hotel to downtown where the bar was. Between the cab driver's insistence on following traffic rules plus all the detours that had to be made to avoid the droves of abandoned cars, what should've been a 20-minute ride at most took closer to an hour. And with each passing minute, Five grew more frustrated. He needed to get to this bar. What if the person he was looking for wasn't there by the time he got there all because of this specific cab driver? Like most other things there wasn't much Five could do but it was still quicker than walking to the place. From a block away, Five could see the glowing lights of the bar sign and headlights. However, instead of continuing to drive, the cab pulled off to the side of the road and parked the car before looking at Five in the rearview mirror.

"This is as far as I'll take ya, kid." The cab driver said, "Those bikers ain't the neighborly types."

"Fair enough." Five replied

Five didn't mind walking the rest of the way, he had already wanted to get out of the cab 20 minutes ago. Pulling out some cash, Five handed over the owed amount for the ride to the driver before opening the door and leaving the car. He watched from the sidewalk as the cab driver quickly turned around a drove off leaving him alone on the street. From down the block, he could hear the sound of revving engines and rowdy shouts. Well, at least he knew for sure he was heading in the right direction. With his hands in his pockets, Five walked away from where he was dropped off and towards his true destination. As he approached the bar, he walked through a crowd of bikers and their motorcycles outside.

"What you doing here, baby?" One woman asked

"You lost?" Another man called out

Five ignored their judgmental glares. He one, was tired and didn't care, and two, had far more important things to worry about than some drunk bikers. Stepping up to the door he passed the painted Mothers of Agony sign in the doorway and entered into the building itself. Walking up a set of stairs he was met with the sight of a stereotypical biker bar. The interior looked like that of a warehouse that just had a bar, chairs, and stripper pole plopped into it. The floors were concrete and covered in dirt and the walls were littered with posters of motorcycles and neon signs. The dim lights and cigarette smoke created a warm haze in the room that was only broken by the spotlight on the pole dancer in the middle. This whole place smelled like a mix of beer and piss and the glares from the patrons did nothing to improve the environment. Those glares however were not intimidating to Five like they probably hoped. He could kill them before they even realized they were dead. At this point, they were just getting in his way. At the far back of the room Five could see a door that said members only, and if anyone was going to help him understand what was going on it wouldn't be one of the brainless drones out here. Making his way through the leather-wrapped crowd, he pushed open the members-only door and headed toward the figure in the center of the room.

"I've been looking for you." Five called out

As the figure turned around though Five's confident demeanor shifted as slight confusion took over. The figure standing before him was Pogo. What was he doing here? Five never got the chance to see if he was around the academy because he and his siblings got their asses handed to them and then thrown out before they could really explore, but he had assumed that Pogo was still there somewhere. This didn't seem like the type of place he would be unless something had happened. He could only wonder what that was though.

"I don't tattoo children." Pogo replied

That wasn't quite true. He did for a certain price and if they had a decent level of respect for the process, but whoever this was Pogo had neither the time nor patience for them. They looked of age to tattoo, but who did they think they were barging in like they owned the place? And what kind of young adult nowadays chose to wear a suit, and especially to to a biker club? Whatever the case was, Pogo didn't want to deal with him.

"Swell, I'm not here for the ink." Five retorted "I'm here because you and I have a mutual friend. Sir Reginald Hargreeves." 

Pogo let out a sigh as he turned back around to continue working on the person he was tattooing. He had no care for Sir Reginald Hargreeves and whatever mess that followed him around. He had spent too long caring about that man and he wasn't going to start again now.

"Whatever he wants, I'm not interested." Pogo dismissed

"I don't think you understand. I'm one of his children." Five explained seriously "From another timeline."

Although Five couldn't see it, Pogo's eyes went wide. Another timeline? No. There was no way that this was possible. Regaining his composure, Pogo looked back at Five and chuckled snarkily,

"Another timeline?"

"As crazy as it sounds, you and I have met before. Back in 1963, when you were a diaper-wearing chimp in dire need of a manicure." Five reiterated as he pulled down the collar of his shirt "I don't know if you remember, but I have a scar to prove it."

Pogo looked at the young man before him. If what he was saying was true then wouldn't he be of an advanced age by now? All this gibberish was probably just some twisted scheme to get him back to the academy. But the academy was no longer his home, this is where he belonged now. Giving a slight nod to his friends in the room they began to inch closer to the young man before him. As his friends surrounded the boy on all sides, Pogo looked directly at him.

"If what you're saying is true, I'd be talking to a man well into his sixties." Pogo retorted "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've had a very long day."

Grabbing his things, Pogo turned and walked away. This boy and whatever his deal was weren't his problem. As Pogo walked away though, Five stepped forward calling out,

"Pogo, you need to listen to me."

But before he could get to Pogo, the other men in the room stepped close and surrounded him, stopping him in his path.

"Time to go home to Mommy, lil guy." One of the bikers remarked

Was that supposed to scare him or something? It's not like they could do anything to him. They were just a bunch of drunk bikers, but he was Five Hargreeves. Former superhero, former assassin, time traveler, your boyfriend, Five Hargreeves. Looking back at the guy who spoke to him Five mocked,

"Or what?"

Before any of them could say anything though he had already blinked out of the room and outside to follow Pogo. As he looked around the lot of motorcycles he saw Pogo's figure quickly riding away on one.

"Shit." Five said aloud

Looking around he saw another biker, his motorcycle turned on and ready to ride off. Quickly approaching him, Five shouted,

"Hey, I need your bike. It's an emergency."

However, the man on the motorcycle gave Five a snarky look as he retorted,

"Think you have me confused with someone who gives a shit."

"Give me the bike or else." Five shouted back

But the man did not listen and instead began to ride off down the road. Stand where he was left, Five looked at the biker who had ridden off and quietly said,

"Okay."

This wasn't what he wanted to do, but he needed a ride immediately if he was going to keep up with Pogo. With a running start, Five blinked onto the back of the motorcycle of the guy who had driven away. Placing his hands on the guy's shoulders, Five forced him off the bike before taking control of it himself. Steadying himself he looked around for Pogo and once he had spotted him up ahead he floored it so that he could keep up. As he followed behind Five knew one thing, this was going to be a long, stressful night.

As for you, the night felt quite calm compared to where your day started. The pain and grief of losing all your friends hadn't vanished. In reality, it still hurt a lot, but at least for now, you were distracted. There were only so many days until the world ended and perhaps if you could distract yourself until then, maybe you could at least co-exist with your pain. After you and Ben finished eating, he paid for your meals as you made your way back to the Academy. You and Ben walked down the sidewalk idly chatting with each other, your voices being the only prominent sound in an oddly quiet part of the city. As you ambled back, you playfully bumped into him as you attempted to push him into the empty road. Seeing what you had done, Ben smirked before bumping back into you a little harder toward the building you walked next to. Back and forth you went bumping each other, first just using your bodies but then incorporating your powers for some extra strength. With one tentacle Ben shoved you toward the nearest building and laughed as you phased through the wall to avoid crashing into it. Popping back out of the wall, you looked at him as he continued to laugh and with a flick of your wrist, you sent him stumbling off the sidewalk and into the road. As you watched him struggle to stay on his feet you began to laugh back at him.

But then, you felt the energy of the world changing. It was no longer peaceful and calm, something was growing and quickly. Your gut dropped and your laughter stopped as you looked off toward the Academy just two blocks away. You knew what this feeling was and you knew how this ended. You froze, adrenaline coursing through your system, but fear keeping you paralyzed. Each energy wave was worse than the last. The pain was immense and the injuries you sustained increased each time. Oh god, what if this one took you? You told Five you would come back to him. You couldn't leave him like this. You loved him. All you had wanted was a little time. Why was there never enough time? You wanted to run away or hide or do anything you could to protect yourself but the terror of the unknown immobilized you. All it seemed like you could do was wait for the black hole to burst.

As Ben regained his balance, he noticed that you had stopped laughing. Looking over at you he saw you frozen in place your eyes trained forward down the street. Looking off in the distance he tried to see what it was that caused you to freeze, but there was nothing there. Something wasn't right. He could feel it. Quickly, he rushed over to you and saw the terror in your eyes. He could feel his heart start to beat faster and he asked,

"(Y/N), are you okay?"

Hearing Ben's voice, your eyes finally peeled away from the road ahead to him. As you looked at him you saw the sincerity in his eyes and you heard the genuine concern in his voice. And even through your panic you saw him. You saw Ben. The one who sought you out. The one who paid attention to you. The Ben who cared for you. He may not have been the same Ben, but he was still your Ben. He was your friend. He was the family the rest of Hargreeves couldn't be. If this was going to happen, at least you knew you'd have someone who cared by your side.

"Whatever happens, promise you won't leave me." You quickly stated, a begging-like tone to your voice

Leave you? He wasn't going to leave you. You were different and fun and he liked talking to you. He didn't feel pressured to be anything with you. You were kind, but you called him out in a way that no one else could. He liked having you around. Leaving you would be the last thing he'd want to do.

"I- I don't understand," Ben replied confused

You were running out of time. The wave was coming and it felt powerful. You didn't know if you'd make it through this one and you didn't want to be alone. You were terrified of being alone. You needed a friend. You needed Ben to promise you to stay. Stay like he always had. Grabbing at his shirt, you looked at him desperately as you shouted,

"Promise me, Ben!"

Ben.

He was Ben.

You called him Ben.

He looked at you, and although your face was frightened your eyes were earnest and sincere. He was Ben. He was your Ben. You wanted him to stay with you and he was going to do just that. He was never going to leave and nothing in this world was going to keep him from you.

"I promise." He replied softly

You gave him a weak smile, but it didn't last long as the energy you felt build up finally burst. Your head whipped back as you saw the giant wave of energy rushing toward you. Your only hope was that the pain would be over quickly. Closer and closer it came, causing you to feel sick even before it hit, and then just like that, it tore through your system. You felt an unbearable ripping sensation spread through your body, like blades cutting you from the inside and out. As you felt your body giving out from under you, you thought of Five one more time before everything went black.

It was as if the world moved in slow motion as Ben watched you go from standing with him holding onto his shirt to letting go and falling to the ground. He tried to reach out to catch you but he wasn't quick enough. Immediately, he dropped to his knees on the ground next to you and gently shook your shoulders as he called out,

"(Y/N)?"

But you didn't respond. You didn't even move. His heart began to race as he looked over you. All your wounds that were practically healed were now reopened and spilling out blood, and on top of it, there were new, worse wounds as well. You looked pale and when he reached out to check your pulse, he found one but it certainly wasn't strong. Oh god. No. NO! He couldn't lose you. He had just started getting to know you. Just started getting to be around you. You had only moments ago called him by his name. He promised he would stay with you, but he couldn't just let you go. He had to save you. Quickly, he scooped you up in his arms and ran down the blocks toward the Academy. There you could get the treatment you needed. As he made it to the Academy he practically kicked down the door to get in and as he stood in the foyer, with urgency in his tone, he shouted,

"HELP! HELP!"

Quickly, Luther and Sloane ran from the parlor into the foyer where Ben stood. The two of them looked at him and saw the urgency in his eyes before noticing what was making him so panicked. There in his arms was you, limp, pale, and bloodied. It was an awful sight to see you in such a condition.

"Oh my god!" Sloane exclaimed, "What happened?!"

"I don't know!" Ben replied, pained unease in his tone

Luther knew what had happened though. It had to have been the same thing that happened earlier today. Nothing else could tear you apart like a strong molecular disturbance and the Kugelblitz was the only thing capable of doing so as of late.

"It must've been another kugelwave." Luther explained "Because of her powers it tears her apart. I saw it happen earlier today."

Ben looked at Luther before looking back at you. That's right, you had mentioned when he found you in the warehouse that the black hole was tearing you apart, and down in the basement you had made the comment of being in immense pain when the black hole explodes. He felt stupid for not realizing what had happened and even stupider for letting one of the people who caused the blackhole point out what was wrong. But as stupid as he felt that didn't matter right now, what mattered was getting you the help you needed. Ben scowled at Luther before turning his attention to Sloane.

"I'm bringing her up to the med bay." Ben stated before commanding "Go find Grace."

But Sloane didn't move. She couldn't as she stared at your unconscious form. You might not have been dead, but you certainly looked it and it hurt her to see you in such a way. No one had been as nice to her in her entire life as you had been in the few moments you were with her. She didn't know if she could call her siblings friends, a lot of times it felt like they were just coworkers, but you were the first person she felt was actually her friend. She couldn't help, but gently reach a hand out toward you, but Ben took a step back and held you closer to him. Looking up at her brother she could see a mix of anger and fear on his face. She had never seen him look like this before.

"SLOANE, GO FIND GRACE!" Ben shouted "NOW!"

"Uh- right- okay!" Sloane stuttered before running off with Luther in tow

With Sloane and Luther attempting to find Grace, Ben rushed up the stairs of the Academy and toward the med bay next to the kitchen. Gently, he placed you down on the bed in there as he waited for Sloane to arrive. What was only a few moments felt like forever as Sloane finally appeared with Grace. Giving a curt nod to Sloane, he turned to look at Grace, her cultish look and missing eye weren't an appealing sight for someone he was hoping to take care of you, but she was the best resource to help. It's not like he could take you to the hospital. At this point there probably wasn't enough staff and surely they would ask questions he wouldn't be able to answer.

"You need to help her. Immediately." Ben commanded

"Of course." Grace replied, her tone cheery but flat "Please leave the room so I can have space to work."

No. He wasn't going to leave. You had asked him to stay with you and he was going to do so no matter what.

"What? No. I want to stay here." Ben complained

"C'mon Ben, look at her, you need to let Grace work or she's going to get worse." Sloane mentioned before offering "If you want we can keep the door open."

He didn't want to leave the room, but Sloane was right. You were looking worse by the second, and you needed help now. At least if the door was open, he could watch Grace to make sure she did her job and nothing else. No matter how much he hated it, it was the best option for now and so he relented,

"Fine."

He gestured for Sloane and Luther to leave the room and once they did so he followed them out making sure to leave the door wide open. While Luther took a seat at the kitchen table, and Sloane started making a pot of coffee, Ben went back and forth between pacing the kitchen and standing in the doorframe of the med bay to watch Grace work. Five minutes became ten, and ten became thirty, and with each passing minute Ben worried more about if you were okay. Surely if it was nothing serious Grace would've been done by now, right? He could see her taking care of you, cleaning your wounds, stitching up gashes, giving you IV fluids, but why was it taking so long? He paced around faster, his head turning to look into the doorway every time he passed by.

As he aggressively paced, Luther and Sloane sat together at the kitchen table just watching Ben. Sloane had never seen him act this way before. She recalled times when he was more vulnerable as children, but his exterior grew harder as he got older, especially after the incident when he was 17. It had been a very long time since she had seen him so concerned about someone other than himself. Perhaps you had found a way to get through to him like no one else could. You certainly were the nicest person the Sparrows had encountered, besides her sweetie pie of a boyfriend of course.

Luther however wasn't as surprised at Ben's reaction. You and Ben had always been close. The relationship between you two wasn't the same as between you and Five of course, but if there was anyone in the family you trusted as much as Five, it was Ben. When Five was busy doing solo training with Reginald, it was always Ben who sought you out. When Ben, unfortunately, fell to the wayside of their father's favor because he didn't like using his powers, you always noticed and stuck up for him. Whenever you spoke, Ben was always intently listening to every word you said. When others didn't have the time to spare to be with him and his literature discussions you always showed up for him. It didn't matter what timeline or what Ben it was, that care, connection, and concern were still there.

The three of them were quiet as they waited for Grace to finish with you, the only sounds being Ben's pacing and the sipping of coffee. But after what felt like forever, Grace finally stepped out of the med bay and into the kitchen. Some blood covered her clothing and her face was relatively expressionless as she looked at the group.

"Is she going to be okay?" Ben immediately questioned

"She is unconscious, but she is stable." Grace explained, "She needs rest but given her current vitals her chances of waking up in the next 12 hours are extremely likely."

The three Hargreeves all sighed a breath of relief as they heard that you'd be okay, but once Grace was out of the way Ben went quickly back into the room and stood by your side. Your wounds were closed and bandaged, there was more color in your face, and minus the stains on your clothing, all the blood you bled was cleaned up. You were injured, but you were okay. Without leaving your side Ben used one of his tentacles to grab a chair from the kitchen table. Bringing it back into the room he placed it behind him before quietly sitting down next to your bedside. Gently, he took one of your hands in his, holding it just as gently as you held his before. He kept his eyes on you, but in his peripheral, he could see as Sloane and Luther entered the room.

"I'm going to stay with her until she wakes up." Ben stated

"Grace said she's going to be okay." Sloane replied, "You don't have to stay."

Yes he did. He did have to stay. He promised you he would and he wasn't going to break that promise. You were terrified when you had passed out. You needed someone to be there for you when you woke to tell you that you were safe.

"I'm not leaving her." Ben stated

"Ben, it's late. I think you should get some rest." Sloane explained

"I said I'm not leaving!" He snapped

Sloane and Luther looked at each other shocked at his outburst, but since it seemed like there was no convincing him to go, it was best just to let him stay.

"Okay..." Sloane quietly said, "Well, Luther and I are heading to bed."

"Then go." Ben remarked, waving them off

Taking Sloane's hand, Luther began to walk the two of them out of the room to leave Ben be, but as they began to head out Sloane whispered,

"What's gotten into him? I've never seen him like this before."

"I don't know, but it's not for us to figure out." Luther whispered back

Ben's eyes darted over to the doorway as he watched the two of them leave. They may have thought they were quiet enough, but Ben heard them. And while Luther and Sloane may not have known what had gotten into Ben, he sure did. All throughout the day it became more and more obvious to him why he was acting the way he was and there was no amount of forced obliviousness or emotional redirection that could deny what he knew now.

He loved you.

He was truly, madly, deeply, undeniably in love with you. It wasn't until he experienced the very real possibility of losing you that it all finally clicked. Ever since he met you, you had consumed his thoughts. When you walked in the room he couldn't think straight and when you looked at him you made his stomach do flips. When you spoke he was completely enthralled and when you touched him, he felt electrified. You were smart and talented and caring and gentle and beautiful. For the first time in a very long time, when he was with you, he didn't feel like Number Two, or Number One, he just felt like Ben. You made him feel this way, and he never wanted to let this feeling go. He looked at you softly, a smile coming to his face as he quietly said,

"I'm not leaving you."

Carefully, he brought your hand, which he held closer to him, and placed a gentle kiss on top of it.

"I promise."

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (2)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)

The Art of Submission - Chapter 2

Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous. 

“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.” 

You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull. 

She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”

You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily. 

“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place. 

“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.” 

With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it. 

Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”

Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.

“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break. 

“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”

This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”

The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now. 

Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh. 

“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”

The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”

You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”

The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight. 

“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter. 

“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”

The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.” 

Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice. 

Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation. 

“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact. 

“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you. 

Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely. 

“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel. 

“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.

Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body. 

“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.

Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.

Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.

Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”

Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”

Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.

“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”

You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.

“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”

She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.

Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”

Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.

You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.

Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.

“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.

Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.

Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.

"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.

You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"

Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."

It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.

“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”

Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.

You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool. 

Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging. 

As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”

“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you. 

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?” 

You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake. 

This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process. 

You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs. 

“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”

You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself

“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”

“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it. 

“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”

“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches. 

“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.

You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants. 

“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink. 

“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future. 

“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her. 

“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit. 

“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.

Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’

“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.

“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.

Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.

Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.

“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.” 

The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.

For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”

You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”

With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for. 

Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch. 

“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”

“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date. 

“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening. 

With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.