#(i say that genuinely and without sarcasm it's one of my favorite parts of the process)

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

does anyone know if there's an existing term for rolls where you're trying to get above (or below) a certain number, as opposed to rolling from a table? i've been tentatively calling them 'scales' in my head as a placeholder, but that feels like it might not be quite accurate. hm.

[olderthannetfic]

It might just be me, but a lot of tone indicators, especially the weirder ones that are harder to guess, come off like they're making fun of me for not being that great with tone.

-- same anon Like, I thought that was the point at first. When I first started seeing tone tags I thought people were mocking autistics for needing clarification. I thought the joke was "who needs someone to come out and tell them that "I like your art" is positive? Isn't it funny how weird and dumb autistic people are for misreading tone?"

I think they're often meant as either condescending white knighting (generally without the person realizing that's the tenor of their thoughts) or they're genuinely being used by autistic people... but in that "If only we sorted all the things into tidy boxes! No one would ever misunderstand again!" way.

Sadly, no amount of clarifying or putting things in little boxes will solve the fact that language is ambiguous.

People don't always know what tone they want to convey or what they're feeling in the first place. Even when they do know, if they write something very poorly and most people would agree it conveys some other tone, they don't get to go "No, I meant X and not Y!" and have everyone ignore what they actually wrote.

Sometimes, a level of ambiguity is intentional and desirable. I don't mean for the purpose of confusing autistic people on purpose like a troll. I mean that a level of ambiguity is part of art and part of how a lot of people communicate.

And sometimes, people just misread one. Maybe they're bad at reading comprehension. Maybe they haven't had their morning coffee. Maybe one wrote something poorly. Maybe it's just a culture clash. The reality is that somebody is going to misunderstand, and that's life.

I often see "This one hack will solve [interpersonal thing] forever!" and it's always nonsense. People and language are messy. The end.

--

For my money, "Only half joking", "genuine question", etc. are perfectly natural phrasings and can just be written out in conventional sentences. (And if a platform doesn't have a long enough post length for that, then it probably sucks anyway and is full of people misunderstanding each other and screaming at each other.) I don't mind "/sarcasm", but I don't think most of the "/" notation is useful, and I dislike "/" + abbreviation.

My least favorite is "/pos", and it's not even for the piece of shit/point of sale issue. The problem, to me, is that this tends to be used in contexts where the person is saying something obviously hostile and rude and then going "tee hee, you aren't allowed to read it negatively". The sentence needs a rephrase if it's supposed to be positive. No amount of tagging it is going to help.

[ellies-little-thing]

"And they roommates..." Oh my god, they were roommates! (e.w) p.1

*not my images

My Masterlist <3

Part 1 Part 2

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

Warnings: Roommates; modern Ellie; Mature content; swearing; fluf; smut; arguing; reader is referred to as she/her; Ellie is mean;  Mentions of past relationships;  mentions of drinking; love/hate relationship; Reader has a vagina; enemies to lovers (kinda); Kind of proofread, English is not my first language.

Author's notes: I really tried hard writing this one. It's my favorite one I've written yet. I hope you love it as much as I do! Happy reading! (I love vines, what can i say?)

NSFW MINORS AND MEN DNI!!

w/c: 4k

Ellie was your roommate, one you weren’t fond of either, due to how she was always up past midnight screaming down her mic at her video games, and how she basically never left her room, and if she did, she bothered you when you tried to study.

Tonight was another night she was playing games, eventually taking a break she walked past your room, before smirking to herself and leaning against the doorway, ready to get on your nerves as always.

“Do you ever not study?” She asked with a teasing and mocking tone in her voice.

“Do you ever study?” You said annoyed.

“Nah” She was just leaning there smiling at you now as you studied. “You’re just a massive dork is all.”

“Thanks, not in the mood to be called names.” You said to Ellie, still looking at your study books. She just shrugged.

“Well I don’t really care if you’re in a good mood or not, you’re boring.” She said as she smiled as if she was proud of herself for her comeback.

“Whatever Ellie, go back to your game.”

She scoffs. “Why? Just to have you complain about the noise??” She said as she leaned against the door, crossing her arms under her chest.

“Just so I can be alone without you here distracting me.” You said really upset.

“How am I distracting? I’m not even doing anything” Ellie scoffed, as if she was in the right and you were just complaining for nothing.

“Fine, stay there then.” You were so out of patience and didn't have energy to deal with Ellie.

“Wow, how kind of you.” She sarcastically said as she stayed there just smiling and being a distraction at this point.

“Stop staring, I can feel your eyes on the back of my head.” You really couldn't concentrate on your studies right now. Ellie was really getting on your nerves.

“Maybe I’m just admiring how much of a dork you are.” She said in a mocking voice as she let her arms fall to her side. “You’re just an easy target.”

“Or maybe I'm just too gorgeous.” You said sarcastically as you didn't really think you were that beautiful.

“Pfft, not even close. You’re not bad looking, but I’d say the most attractive thing about you is the fact you keep yourself to yourself most of the time.” Ellie rolled her eyes as she said this, the sarcasm just reeked off her tone.

“At least i dont bother other people.” You now looked at Ellie with an annoyed face.

“I'm not that annoying…” Ellie frowned and spoke quietly.

“Okay, if you’re so innocent, how is it that I have to listen to your video game playing every night? Hmm? Do you think I’m enjoying the sound of an 11 year old screaming at their microphone? I'm the one that has to hear it, you idiot.” You scoffed as you were full of rage.

“I’m the idiot?? The only idiot here is you. “ Ellie said defensively.

“You’re the one playing those damn shooting games! Why not turn it down or wear headphones? Or do you enjoy the sound of children screaming down your mic?” By this point Ellie was in your face, her arms crossed under her chest as she made a frown.

“Ellie, I'm not in the mood, leave me be.”

“Okay, fine I'll leave.” Her voice and expression softened at the end, she was genuinely being serious now.

“Sure, bye.”

She got off your door then, now it only being 7:30pm. “But if I come back at 9 and you’re still playing I’m turning your console off myself.”  You said with a huff, as she was walking back to her own room. As soon as she reached her room she slammed her door shut, now alone in her room, she sighed and threw herself onto her bed.

“Real mature!” You almost shouted so she could hear you through the walls. For a few minutes Ellie layed there, now feeling a little bad. She wanted to say sorry, but her pride was too strong. Eventually it was too much so she got up and walked to your room and she knocked on the door softly.

“Uhm.. Hey, I came to say sorry for being a dick earlier.” She smiled awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, did you now? Took you a long time to figure that one out…” You said clearly very annoyed. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Shut up, come on I’m trying to apologize…”

“Make me shut up then!” You spat at her, frowning your face and stuck your tongue out mockingly.

“Ohhh I’m so tempted too” Ellie muttered under her breath before she shook her head, it seemed her pride was still not gone.  “Uhm, so are you going to accept my apology?” She asked with a genuine tone in her voice.

“Fine.” You said that so Ellie would go away and not interrupt your study session anymore.

And suddenly Ellie’s pride was out in full force again, she smirked at you not wanting to show she was actually happy the apology was accepted. “Is that it? Fine? Giving up so soon?” She asked as she raised her eyebrow.

“I don't want to argue with you, I'm tired and trying to study for my exam.” You really just wanted to be alone at this point. Ellie’s eyes widened for a moment before she just laughed. “Oh my god you had me worried you were still pissed off at me for a moment! Well, maybe that’s my ego getting the better of me.” Ellie shrugged but her tone was friendly now. “Well, good luck on your exams.” She said as she turned to walk back to her own room.

“Bye! Don't come back!” You said as she closed your bedroom door.

Then Ellie left, before turning back around to tease you again.

“Wait, hey, what’s your name?”

“Are you really asking me that? You really are an asshole. You forget things fast, or maybe you just don't actually care about anyone but yourself!.”

“No, I’m not an idiot. Of course I know your name, I just wanted to hear you say it.” Ellie said, embarrassed for not remembering your name. You have been roommates for a week now.

“What's my name then?” You asked, getting very angry.

Ellie was now visibly irritated. “My god, you’re so annoying all the time…” She took a deep breath. “Y/N, right?”

“Good job you little baby, it wasn't so hard was it?” You sighed very angry because of Ellie's forgetfulness, you couldn't believe this. “You really are the best roommate in the world.” You said sarcastically looking at Ellie. 

“Wow, now who sounds like an 11 year old?” Ellie said as she rolled her eyes.

“You do.”

All Ellie could do was laugh at this. “Ohhhh, now who’s acting like a child?”

Then she just smirked.

“Still you Ellie.”

“Oh shut up” Ellie said, knowing the conversation has come to a stalemate now. “You really are just like a kid, go to your room.”

“Whatever! At least I don’t look like a 12 year old boy!” Ellie’s voice was now filled with annoyance as she said that, you had officially got under her skin.

“Excuse me? At least I'm not the one playing with 12 year olds” You said loudly, really offended by Ellie's words. Ellie just went silent, then eventually she groaned and shook her head.

“Oh god this is stupid. Fine, I'll go to my room okay?” She said as she walked away from your door.

“And stay there!” You shouted again through the walls.

Again, Ellie just groaned. Eventually she was in her room and shut the door behind her. Ellie was bored now that she wasn’t teasing you, she really liked getting under your skin.

“Finally, some peace…” You said to yourself. For a while now you had peace and quiet, but it was now 10:30pm, Ellie’s video game was going for a good couple of hours, and the noise wasn't going to stop, you knew Ellie would just keep doing it out of spite.

“For fucks sake!” You said to yourself as you were trying to go to sleep with all the shouting Ellie was doing. Soon, you could hear Ellie screaming down her mic in the other room. “Yeah! That's how it's done! That's how a pro wins!”

“Ellie shut the fuck up!”

“Make me!” She replied, and then you heard a bunch of screaming kids laughing. 

“I'll punch you in the face with the kids hearing!”

“Okay fine” And just like that the screaming stopped, replaced by the sounds of footsteps from her room, heading to your door to knock on it again.

“What now? What could you possibly want from me? Let me sleep!”

“Uhm.. can I come in?” Ellie asked, her voice was quiet, she seemed serious now.

“Why? Are you scared of the dark?” You mocked Ellie.

“No.. I just. I wanna talk to you about something” Ellie was now standing there waiting for your permission. She was a bit nervous as she asked this.

“Fine, come in..” You said with an annoyed tone in your voice.  Ellie then walked into your room, closing the door once she was inside. “Can I sit down.. please?”

“Sure, why not?...” She saw your frustrated face but sat down on your bed anyway. “So I know we’re not.. like.. close or anything and you probably think I hate you or whatever.. but I genuinely wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” You said crossing your arms.  “It’s about why I’m always so mean to you..”

“Oh, why are you always so mean then?” You genuinely wanted to know the answer this time.

“I… I like you.” Ellie’s voice turned soft as she said that, the pride in her voice was completely gone. “I just don’t know how to show it properly..”  You freezed as you heard Ellie's words come out of her mouth. You expected a lot of excuses but this was not one of them. With how mean she treated you, you were really starting to get the impression that she hated you and you were starting to hate her. The past week was filled with mean and snarky comments everytime you got home or just got out of your room to get a simple glass of water. 

“What do you mean you like me?” You asked, still not believing what she's just said. Ellie got really nervous and started to blush looking at her hands that she was fidgeting with. She didn't know what to say now. She just waited for your reaction.

“Ellie, what are you talking about?” You asked with a calmer and confused voice. “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You had seen her on campus with a girl almost all of the times you saw her during the day.

“No, me and her broke up a little while ago. I never told you?”

She said, it was true, you couldn’t have known about it because she never told you, she kept it to herself because of how she felt.

“No, you didn't tell me…” You were very confused right now. “I don't know what to say…” Ellie’s face turned to a frown now, then suddenly she started to get up. “Forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She sounded sad now, like she wanted to cry.

“I just wasn't expecting this.” You said a bit seriously.

“No, I’m an idiot for even asking.” She said, then shook her head as if she was in denial of her feelings. “We should just carry on as we have been, maybe I can just forget about it.” Ellie then walked towards your door.

“Ellie!” You said as she closed the door to your room and went to her own not turning around. You were feeling a bit awkward now but it was late and you were tired. You had class in the morning so you ignored what happened just now and tried to sleep. “I'll talk to her tomorrow.” You said to yourself and laid back down and went to sleep.

In the other room Ellie was pacing back and forth as she couldn't believe what she just said. “I'm such an idiot… god…” She said to herself as she sat on her bed with her hands on her face and her elbows resting on her knees. She tried to shrug it away and got under the covers and tried to sleep. She wasn't very successful though. She stayed staring at the ceiling for a good while before finally falling asleep. She dreamt of you and all the things she should have said instead of being an asshole to you all this time. The truth is that she's very awkward at social interactions and didn't ever learn how to talk to people properly when she should've. The first time she saw you enter your dorm with your bags on your arms and hands, she thought you were beautiful and definitely out of her league. So she tried being a bit of a tease just to see you flustered and annoyed as she thought you looked the cutest like that. 

You woke up at 8 am and got up and got ready for the day. As you left your room to have some breakfast you noticed that Ellie was nowhere to be seen and the door to her room was closed. You thought it was still too early to address the situation so you just ate your cereal and got out the door with your backpack and your books in hand. Ellie was awake and was waiting for the sound of the front door closing, meaning she was alone and didn't have to see you. She was very embarrassed by the previous night's events. As she heard the door close she was able to relax her body and let out a long sigh. She then got up still in her lounge wear, just a sleeveless shirt and gray sweatpants. Her hair was all messed up from just waking up and went to eat some breakfast. She saw that the door to your bedroom was slightly open and went inside. She looked around the room admiring all your decorations, pictures with friends and your sketches, and noticed one you had done of her face. It wasn't finished but her eyes went wide and started sparkling as she saw it. Maybe she had a chance if you thought she was worth drawing.

You got to class and sat on your usual seat listening to the professor. It was a bit boring but you liked your History classes. They calmed you down somehow. As if hearing about all of humanity's conquests and mistakes were a lullaby. As the class ended you got your things and came outside to sit on a bench and soak in some sunlight before your only other class for the day. You saw Ellie going into the building but she didn't seem to notice you. You were a bit relieved she didn't. You still didn't know what to make of things. Ellie was beautiful, there's no denying that. Taller than you and slender with gorgeous green eyes and the nicest smile you’ve ever seen. Her auburn hair was almost always in a half bun and it framed her face perfectly. She wasn't very feminine and obviously a lesbian, but her traces were soft and delicate. She had a tattoo on her right forearm and her hands were a bit calloused and her veins prominent. You had noticed she was muscular, she must attend a gym or something for sure, but it just made her more attractive. 

Half an hour passed and it was time for your next class. As you entered the room you noticed Ellie in the last row. You didn't know you had classes together since she was not taking the same degree as yours but you tried to not look at her as if you never saw her in the first place. She only noticed you once you were sitting and with your back to her. She got a bit nervous for the rest of the class. As it ended she waited for you to leave first so she wouldn't bump into you. She was still very embarrassed, and wasn't ready to confront her feelings. She hated feeling so powerless. 

Later that day you got home and went straight to your bedroom and closed the door. You were finally alone and could relax from your social anxiety. You sat on your bed and opened your pc. Maybe some youtube videos will help you calm down. That was what you hoped at least. Some time later you heard the front door open and heard laughs, one was Ellie's for sure, the other you didn't recognize, but definitely a girl.  You kept your attention on the sounds coming from outside your room, as they traveled to Ellie's room where the sounds from those damm games always came from. Suddenly the laughs stopped and you didn't know what was happening. Maybe Ellie brought a friend home for a study session or something but that didn't seem to be the case. A few minutes later you started hearing moans, at least it was what you thought. You couldn't be jealous because you and Ellie had nothing, but somehow you were filling up with rage at each moan the girl made. Ellie sure seemed to be having some fun. You on the other side not so much. You tried to put on your headphones and listen to music to muffle the noises but it didn't work as well as you thought it would. The two girls were getting louder by the minute. You couldn't hear those disgusting noises for one second more so you grabbed your phone and keys and bolted out of the front door and made sure to slam it so Ellie heard it.

Ellie had brought some girl that had a crush on her home, she wanted to forget what she said to you. Getting girls was never hard for her, she practically had them lining up for her, and this made her feel confident. Yes, Ellie was a bit of a playboy, her reputation on campus was almost legendary at this point. People even made bets on who would be the next girl Ellie would choose to fuck. She didn't think of herself like that though, she used this facade as a way to cope with how insecure she was about herself.

You went to the park to get some fresh air. It was getting a bit cold out and you got out of the house in such a hurry that you forgot to bring your jacket. Great. Just great. You headed to the library and picked up a random book to read as a form to pass the time. When you looked at the time it had passed 2 hours, it was 8 pm. You dicided to go back home as you figured they have had more than enough time to fuck all they wanted. When you were almost home, a girl passed by you from the direction of your place. She was pretty, you couldn't say she wasn't. As you opened the door you saw Ellie in the living room couch watching TV as if nothing happened. You walked past her without saying one word and went into your room. Ellie looked up at you as you passed in front of the tv. She then was met with what she hadn't thought for the past couple of hours: you. She immediately started looking remorseful. She got up and called your name as you closed the door. You locked the door, you didn't want to see or hear her. She knocked at your door a few seconds later.

“Hey?... You in there?...” She started. “Could we talk please…?” She blurted out but didn't really know what she was going to say if you opened the door. You just sat on the floor with your back against your bed and stayed quiet just listening to her. “Y/N?...” She called for you. “Please, can we talk about yesterday?” She pleaded. “I can hear you just fine. Talk from there if you really want to!” You said with a slight sad tone on your voice. “I’m sorry about earlier… I didn't know you were home..”  “You don't need to apologize, we have nothing, we’re just roommates.” You responded calmly. “Yes I do…” Ellie put her forehead to the door and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“Whatever Ellie.” You said, you were a bit annoyed this time. “Just leave me alone please.” Ellie didn't want to do that but she also didn't want to make things worse. “Okay…” She complied. “I'll be in my room if you need anything…” She said very sad and disappointed in herself. You didn't respond and she walked to her room and laid in her bed sad. You also got up from the floor and layed down on your bed . You were both feeling miserable. But you didn't talk to Ellie right now. You really didn't have the right to be mad at her but how could you not do that when she admitted her feelings for you and was nice for once?

You came out of your room and headed to the bathroom you and Ellie shared, to take a shower. It was messy because Ellie always left towels and her stuff everywhere. You ignored it and just got in the tub and let the hot water from the shower fall over you. You were crying, not sure why. You didn't have the right to be mad. You and her had nothing, you never even kissed each other. You just let the tears fall and mix with the water running down your body. You came out of the bathroom wrapped in your towel and were met with a very sad Ellie. You only looked at her for a few moments before going back to your room to get your pajamas on. Ellie followed you to your room. “Hey, please can we talk…?” Ellie said softly. “What do you want?” You asked dryly. “I want to get dressed if you don't mind closing the door.” You said signaling for Ellie to close the door. “Oh… Of course.. right…” She closed the door almost all the way, leaving just a sleether for her to peek in. She didn't want to be a perv but she couldn't help herself. She watched you get dressed as she couldn't take her eyes off of you and your body. You didn't notice though. When you finished she knocked on the door asking for permission to get in, “Hey… can i come in?...” You said nothing and Ellie got in anyway, closing the door behind her. You were now dressed in some comfy clothes, a t-shirt and some shorts. You didn't bother putting on a bra as you were planning on going to sleep anyway, so Ellie could make out your nipples and got a bit flustered but said nothing about it. “So… about earlier, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done it if I knew you were home.” Ellie tried explaining. “Sure Ellie, sure you wouldn't. It's fine. Whatever…” You said unamused, looking at the auburn-haired girl. She was looking back at you with a sad look on her face. “Who was it anyway? Another new girlfriend?” You asked annoyed. “Hum, no.. She's just a friend…”   “I didnt know friends fucked.” You said sitting on your bed crossing your arms. “I guess it's my bad then.” Ellie was a bit flustered and ashamed now. “It won't happen again, I promise…” She said looking at the floor holding her arms behind her back. “Sure Ellie, I'm going to sleep now, good night.” You said getting into bed. “Oh.. Okay…Good night…” She said as she got out of your room and went into her own. She layed in her bed staring at the ceiling thinking of you, and ways to make things okay again. She couldn’t sleep that night. She was just feeling so guilty for making you sad.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome! I have part 2 almost finished!

[moonyskarma]

FRUIT ASK GAME . . . marauders dr 🍒 original questions by @jadeshifting

🍋 TERRIBLY SOUR LEMON … who’s your least favorite person in your DR? a poisonous ex, a toxic professor—maybe someone who tried to straight up murder you. who do you truly go sour in the face at the thought of?

voldemort. so like, can he die already? ALSO CAN HE STOP TRYING TO RECRUIT ME? like if im not gonna be dumbledore's personal seer i'm certainly not gonna be yours fuck off. genuinely he just.. is so awful. i am not looking forward to being face to face with wizard hitler.

🍎 SHINY RED APPLE … what are you the absolute best at in your DR? the thing that, when people need help with it, they let out the most gigantic sigh of relief when you walk in the room—everyone knows you do it best

not to brag but im kind of really fucking smart. complicated spells, ancient texts, runes, all of it. give me. exams are easy, passed with flying colors without needing to reread the book. not usually the first hand raised in class, but the one who's going to get it right.

🍓 SUGAR SWEET STRAWBERRY … what’s the most romantic, sugar-sweet moment you’ve had or will have in your DR? something so terrifically soft and perfect it could’ve come straight from a wild strawberry patch

oh lord. i'm going to have to talk about sirius, here. golden hour in the astronomy tower, alone. sirius, appearing, laying a blanket on the tower floor and pulling me onto it, a flask of firewhiskey in his hand. a teasing, gentle look as he tells me i've got "that faraway look", and i'm somewhere he can't reach. me, tired, saying he's the only one who can reach. sirius kissing me, and suddenly nothing else matters. not the prophecies, not barty, or regulus, or anybody else. it's just me and sirius.

🍆 DEEP UMBER EGGPLANT … what’s the most thrilling fantasy you have about your lover in your DR? no information is too much or too little, it’s all according to your comfort—a midnight rendezvous, a sudden vacation for two, or maybe just a night in with one-or-two extra glasses of wine and hanging out :)

i don't have a lover (yet). it's more of a "we'll see where this goes", you know? regardless.. i love my scenarios so here you go.

sirius. winter break, at the potters, when he decides we're going somewhere. taking me to a cottage he inherited from god knows who, tucked between the sea and jagged cliffs. staying up all night drinking wine from the bottle and trading stories, wearing his too-big sweater as he looks at me like i'm the only person in the world.

regulus. the library. pulling him into the restricted section. we've snuck in—moonlight filtering through stained glass, regulus pressing his favorite book into my hands, letting me read his scribbled notes in the margins. hands brushing, eyes meeting, daring me to kiss him. so.. i do.

barty. we always seem to fight before we kiss. probably about the war, or some stupid plan of barty's that's going to get us both in trouble. wands out, voices raised, a hex that hits the wall over my shoulder. silence. and then he kisses me like he's still fighting. always too much, too rough. maybe we stay in the room of requirement that night.

🥝 FUZZY BURST KIWI … what’s something about you in your DR that people wouldn’t expect to be true? it doesn’t quite line up, some fabulous detail about you. when people find out, they’re positively shocked

people look at me and see what i put out. sarcasm. chaos incarnate. the cursed one with eyes that see too much. laughs to loud, overcompensating for the waking nightmares that don't stop.

what they don't see is that i'm a hopeless fucking romantic. like, delusional delirium kind of romantic. journals full of poetry and pressed flowers, hauntingly whispered confessions between kisses before hexing someones shoelaces together.

🥭 TROPICAL LUSH MANGO … what adds the most dynamic, vibrant color to your DR? a person, a place, an activity, a part of your identity—its presence lights up your existence there like sun rays on a blank canvas

the marauders. james, the golden sun. sirius, the star. remus, the moonlight. me, the storm, i guess. pranks and shared cigarettes and drunken party nights. almost constant laughter, and cracking up in classes, and running through the corridors because a prank made us late for class.

🍏 CRISP GREEN APPLE … what’s a memory from your childhood in your DR that stands out amongst the others? the edges of the picture are crisp, it may not be particularly good or bad—but intricately memorable

The House of Calloway. Twelve years old, home for winter break. Sitting in the back garden under a holly-covered arch in a black coat and scarf. A book about animagi in my pocket. Wand in hand, promising myself I'd get out—I wouldn't turn out like my parents. I'd be more than that. I'd be free.

🍈 HONEY BLISS CANTALOUPE … what’s your favorite season in your DR? do you enjoy sun-drenched summers, an exhilarating back to school time in autumn, or perhaps some particularly festive Christmas traditions that make the wintertime special?

autumn! always autumn. Hogwarts in wine red and deep orange, crunched leaves beneath boots. James and Sirius shoving each other into leaf piles and turning up to class with leaves in their hair. Barty always looking like he's just gone through a thunderstorm with windswept hair, and Regulus looking out the windows like he can read the wind. The first Quidditch games of the year, finally back on the broom. i freaking love autumn.

🍒 BLOODRED CHERRIES … what is your biggest fear in your DR? you don’t have to get deep if you don’t wanna—it can be as small and horrifying as a spider or the dark. something that truly rattles you to your bones

the thought that one day, the people i love won't be there. whether it be by my own hand or another. the thought of everything i have slipping through my fingers like sand.

🥑 EARTHY AVOCADO … what’s the most comforting part of your daily routine in your DR? it’s grounding—something that no matter where you are or what you have going on, will always give you reprise and solace

my notebook. always in my pocket, always there for me to scribble something down. every morning a new dream to write on a fresh page, notes in the margins trying to figure out what it means. if anyone where to read it, it'd probably not make much sense. but to me, it does. it's always there.

🫐 DEWY BLUEBERRIES … what’s your comfort meal or dessert in your DR? maybe it’s something your parents make for you, something you order from room service while you’re reclined in a hotel room, or something simple you prepare for yourself—it makes you feel better the second you sink your teeth into it

bangers and mash. i fucking love bangers and mash. effie makes the best bangers and mash, it's utterly mouthwatering. like you can taste the love she put into it. and somehow, it tastes exactly the same when i have it at hogwarts. like? how? the fuck? elf magic, i guess.

🍑 OVERRIPE PEACH … what kind of a future do you imagine for yourself in your DR? white picket fence material, with marriage and a couple kids? perhaps childless but continuing on your adventures til old age, or all of the above?

A future that's ... soft. I want two kids, a boy and a girl. A home like the Potter's, that's full of love and loyalty. Waking up next to my lover (whoever that ends up being) every morning. My friends, still surrounding me. Remus reading to the children, Sirius buying them their first brooms. James being the best uncle, Cara being back in my life, the aunt to my children. Peace.

🍌 SUNNY BANANA … what’s a piece of art, literature or music that truly moved you in your DR? perhaps something that shaped your identity, something that you enjoy for purely academic reasons, or just your favorite

Life on Mars? by David Bowie. My song.

"It's a god-awful small affair // to the girl with the mousy hair" — my early life, as a Calloway. Not fitting into that life at all.

"but her mother is yelling no // and her father has told her to go" — rather self explanatory, I fear?

"but the film is a saddening bore // for she's lived it ten times or more" — prophecies. seeing the same thing over and over and knowing there's no way to change what's coming. Like i'm always playing a different role.

"it's a heartache // and it’s a dream" — literally my life, between worlds, between visions.

"is there life on mars?" — trying to find the answers, knowing there are none. or maybe knowing that i am the answer, but not knowing what to do with that knowledge.

🍅 SCARLET TOMATO … what’s the juiciest secret you’ve ever kept or will keep in your DR? the kind of scandalous thing that would positively burst into drama if revealed

i'll start with my prophecies. growing up being told i'm "cursed" definitely had an impact on what i chose to tell people, but inevitably i couldn't hide it when i'd warn my friends that something was going to happen—and it happened.

also. whatever the fuck is happening in my love life. like that's a whole thing that nobody can know. everybody likes guessing, though. making up their own interpretations of why i was seen with barty, or regulus, or sirius.

🥥 SUN-KISSED COCONUT … what would your ideal vacation be in your DR? a tropical getaway, with white sand and bungalows? a secluded retreat into the foggy mountains? where would you go, and who would you bring with you?

probably some secluded beach? with clear, warm water where i can see the bottom (i'm scared of the ocean um). relatively untouched by tourists, where i could walk up and down the beach for miles and see nobody else. maybe i'd bring regulus, actually. stargazing on the beach under moonlight, a rare moment of peace.

🍉 JUICY WATERMELON … what’s your favorite thing about your lover in your DR? the way they smell like home, how they make your chest hurt with laughter, how they take care of you. maybe the way their hair falls in their face just so

regulus — he's so.. calming. always brings me out of my head when it's too much. he's so.. soft, in the way he cares. he'll never outright say he does, but i can tell. in the way he'll read and annotate my favorite books to try and understand me a bit better, the way he remembers little facts about me that everybody else seems to ignore.

barty — there's this energy, when he's near. like a buzz. he's so intense. sometimes that's overwhelming, too much, but most of the time it's enough to make my head stop spinning, enough that i focus on just him and not my prophecies or the war or sirius or anything else.

sirius — every day with him is like an adventure. laughter that fills the air, the way he always seems to know exactly when i want to be left alone. he also has this uncanny ability to know exactly when i want to be left alone but shouldn't be.

🍍 SPIKY BOLD PINEAPPLE … if your life in your DR had a color palette, what would it look like? perhaps pastels, or a range of jewel tones? maybe a collection of shades that seem totally random, but that make perfect sense just to you

maroon. navy. emerald green. gold. silver. charcoal gray.

🍐 MELLOW PEAR … what’s a dream or goal you’re pursuing in your DR? it could be as small as reading more often, or going out with your friends more, or as large as saving the entire cosmic universe. whatever you’re working towards!

stopping voldemort. reclaiming a future he tried to take from us, from me. the knowledge that i have to. that it will be me. that the shadowed figure in my visions will be me.

🍇 TART PURPLE GRAPES … if you could bottle the scent of your favorite memories in your DR, what would the notes be? base notes of parchment and ink for your academic pursuits? middle notes of jasmine and rose petals for a lover you hold close to your heart? perhaps top notes of sea salt and sand for a place you find solace in?

crisp autumn air, perhaps a hint of cigarette smoke — hogwarts, where everything is right. fresh parchment, ink, leather — the library. firewood, whiskey — the common room.

🍊 SUNSET CITRUS ORANGE … what’s your favorite kind of outing to go on in your DR, with your friends, family, or your partner? whether it’s a classy art gallery, a carefree rocky beach, or an urban jaunt to the mall, you know you’ll have a good time every time

probably hogsmeade? me and my marauders, laughing too loud, shoving each other around. bags of sweets from honeydukes, a couple of things from zonko's for our next prank.

or, on a more sentimental note—the astronomy tower. me and reg's spot, where nights are more stargazing than sleeping. where the stars know our secrets, and the moon hears our prayers.

🍋‍🟩 ZESTY SOUR LIME … do you have any scars in your DR? a little mark on your knee from a childhood mishap on a scooter, or some gigantic mark left as proof of your world-saving tendencies—one that tells a story, big or small

clawmarks on my left hip. from remus. he didn't mean it, of course. it's almost a reminder of how i push people. something i probably deserved, having pushed and pushed until he snapped. a scar on my collarbone—likely from a fight. a scar on my upper lip, another fight, another wound i never let fully heal.

i promise this is the last one about this dr... for now. this is so much fun and this game?? is so cute????? im obsessed

okay i lied i kind of want to do one more. um. sorry?

[soupsandwich64]

THE GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY AND THEIR LOVE LANGUAGES.

Forgive me for any mistakes of lore, names or character traits etc.. I am bad at remembering things.

Not proof read.

ALSO NOTE THAT THIS DOESN'T MEAN "THESE ARE THE ONLY LANGUAGES THAT WORK ON THEM" IT MEANS "THESE ARE THE ONES THAT WORK BEST OUT OF ALL OF THEM"

And theres things like least favorite, too.

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

ROCKET RACCOON

RECEIVING -

(What is most effective towards him)

GIFT GIVING.

(Particularly prosthetic limbs)

QUALITY TIME.

Think like co-playing. Both in the same room doing different things. Sometimes talking

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

This one is probably pretty intense for him, so he only lets it actually sink in if it's a short sentiment from someone he truly cares about. Like, a friend being like "wow you're so cool!" Would definitely make him feel good, and probably inflate his ego/self esteem, but wouldn't really set in. But if like, Peter or Mantis etc. said something like "I appreciate everything you do for this team, we love you" that might actually hit hard. That's what I mean when I put words of affirmation here

---

GIVING

(What he would give you or others)

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

QUALITY TIME.

These two are his most standard forms of affection. He also gives them like he receives them. So, if someone he's friends with is a silent type, comfortable silence in the same room. If they're talkative, some light chatting is ok, and so on. Words of affirmation from him would most likely just be surface level stuff like "Good job" "You're not as dumb as I thought" "that's a neat trick" etc. sort of a friendly bullying. How people respond to that bullying tells him a lot about someone, usually. Just like with himself, if he's particularly close to someone, he may let out the occasional genuine praise without a layer of sarcasm.

LEAST FAVORITE

Physical touch.

Yeah, ouch, I know.

Not only is he smaller than everyone, which might make physical touch overwhelming, but he also has the situation on his back. But deep down, I think he's a bit touch starved (Everyone in the dang MCU is at this point) and secretly enjoys it. You just can't be heavy handed, and he really has to trust you. And too much too frequently may make him feel like a pet. So be careful.

(theres no way he would admit though, If asked about it he would simply say "Cause I don't want you gross sweaty skin bags all over me", referring to most peoples lack of fur)

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

PETER QUILL

(Theres like only 4 gifs of him. Why does my boy not deserve tasty gifs)

RECEIVING

-----------

With Peter it heavily depends on where you are in his timeline. The "golden age" Peter, where Gamora is alive and in love, and its good times for everyone, is probably not focused on relationships outside of the team (which might be part of his issues that were addressed in Vol 3.) The "everyone I love is dead" peter is in an extreme depressive state and obviously isn't going to be making new friends or even be responsive to his current friends (for the most part). The post Vol3 "Reconciled with my dad and stopped hopping on lily pads" Peter is new man! But also the same, being like a rebuilt version of himself. He would now, in my opinion, value every relationship he has. Every opportunity he has to be with other people becomes valuable, and everything he does is to honor the people who loved him when no one else did (Mama Quill, Yondu, Gamora etc.) and serve the people who love him now and kept loving him even through hard times. (Rocket, Mantis, Drax, Groot etc.).

With that said,

ACTS OF SERVICE

GIFT GIVING

I see Peter feeling loved more through actions and physical items because of what he's been through, making him crave things that are solid and real. Also Yondu was a lil trinket collector so that may turn up in Peter too. But, I also think Peter may feel a little guilty when receiving gifts. Very grateful, though.

I will also add

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

QUALITY TIME

Because even despite what I just said, I think a solid "You're so strong, I look up to you" every now then would make him giggle and kick his feet a little internally.

And listening to music together or sharing music is also particularly special

At the end of the day, he's just happy to be around loved ones.

GIVING

Just as you may be doing right now, he would probably try and figure out what the specific person likes. So his giving just depends on the person.

LEAST FAVORITE.

He doesn't really have one. He just wants to be loved.

--------

DRAX

(The destroyer (and protector))

Drax is probably receptive to most forms of affection, but it has to be obvious and clearcut.

Like, doing subtle things in the background might not get his attention, but hugging him directly and saying something like "I appreciate you as a person and for everything you do for the team" would be a lot better, and mean a lot more to him, even though its a very bold/blunt move. Theres probably a balance between blunt and subtle, but it would be pretty easy to strike. You also don't want to leave room for interpretation if you're afraid of him misinterpreting the difference between platonic and romantic affection. Its a slippery slope, but as long as you avoid using the word 'love' without platonic clarification too many times, you'll be good.

Also Drax does does not make friends in the traditional sense, he simply decides who is and who is not his friend. Whether they know about it or not. Not even in a way thats like cold and calculated or something, he just thinks it in his own head and decides it, expecting the others to simply Know.

With that said,

RECEIVING

PHYSICAL TOUCH.

I say this is probably both receiving and giving, but he's probably less likely to give and more open to receive. I feel like he would just kinda stand there the first few times someone hugged him, but if it became a routine thing, he would become more reciprocal. That might sound like he doesn't like physical touch, but I think its rather the fact that along with his other social skills, physical affection just turns out.. different.. for him. Like when he pet Rocket. I think he's a physical person, it just comes out weird. I want to hug him. If you touch his muscles too much he may get weirded out, or think you like him.

GIVING GIFTS

If you give him something he likes, like zarg-nuts, oh boy. He will DEFINITELY like you. Thats all to be said.

GIVING

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

Things like "You're ugly, but thats good because then you know who really loves you", y'know.

GIFT GIVING

Will offer you zarg-nuts. Thats a big deal.

LEAST FAVORITE

Probably Quality Time, but only if its boring. I think he actually sees things like fighting alongside the team as quality time, so it might just be different than how we would interpret quality time.

Again, he probably is just generally receptive to each language so you can't really go wrong, as long as you come across right.

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

GAMORA (pre and post)

(There's also not a lot of gifs of her at all)

So, much like quill, she has three versions. During Thanos, Golden Age, and Multiverse. I'll do Golden Age and Multiverse because I don't think During Thanos is interesting, at least not for this specific post.

Also golden age and multiverse are technically two different people.

GOLDEN AGE GAMORA

Golden age Gamora is, in my opinion, a very deeply feeling woman. She can be stone cold when she needs to, but I feel like she is very emotionally intelligent especially as she gets closer with the team. She is also very loving, and is often 'the rock' of a friendship. Or just generally the level headed, down to earth one.

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

RECEIVING

QUALITY TIME

Definitely finds spending time together and talking valuable. Even listening to music together is special.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

As long as the words are honest and not trying to just flatter her or try and get in good with her, she appreciates it. Honest praise goes a long way. Too much too often may make her embarrassed.

GIVING

Since she *is* rather emotionally intelligent, I imagine she would figure out what that person is most receptive to, and display that. But if it's someone she likes, like Peter, she may get bashful and have a hard time acting natural with it and would probably revert to her own preferred language.

LEAST FAVORITE

GIFT GIVING.

I imagine her upbringing caused her to not be a materialistic person. That said, gifts can be extremely special to her, but its just rare. So giving her flowers doesn't do anything but like if Peter gave her a mixtape, thats different.

////

MULTIVERSE GAMORA

A more hot headed, less sensitive version of golden age. Meaning she's probably more standoffish and less emotionally intelligent, but not by a lot, just sort of by the trimmings and details of her personality. Being with the ravagers probably does that to most anyone. Golden age has more motherly vibes, while multiverse has more protective older sister vibes.

--------

RECEIVING

PHYSICAL TOUCH.

In the form of rough housing and play fighting with her ravager friends. Not exactly in a tender way, although I do see sort of the "let me patch you up" angst. One of the differences between the two is that multiverse is more afraid to be vulnerable.

GIFT GIVING

Surprisingly. I think the ravager life style may make her a little more appreciative of having her own things. I imagine theres a lot of competitiveness for special food and special items, even if its playful. Even though something unnecessary like flowers may not excite her, things like a newer, stronger weapon could mean a lot. Golden Age may not feel the exact same only because it's probably more accessible. But lets say if its something Rocket made her, then it would be inherently valuable because its from her friend. With multiverse, things gain inherent value when they're useful.

LEAST FAVORITE

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

She doesn't need you to tell her she's doing a good job, she already knows. Compliments are only effective from people she respects above peer-level, which is rare. Joking around with her friends (loving insults, etc) is different though.

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

GROOT (multiple ages)

(I couldn't find gifs of young adult groot, only many of baby groot and a few of groot senior. Sad)

Baby Groot, Teen Groot, Young Adult Groot, Adult Groot, Groot Senior. So many choices. I'll do them ALL. (Except adult groot cause we just saw him for a few minutes so like- yknow)

GROOT SENIOR

Since Groot sr. was treated "more as animal" than a person, I imagine he doesn't have a concept of love language at all. Therefor, I will say that anything he perceives as loving, caring and protective action is his love language both giving and receiving. R.I.P. legend you will not be forgotten 🪽🕊️🕊️ 🙏 💯

The original baby boy. I'm still sad.

-----

BABY GROOT

He's a baby, so in theme for babies, attention, physical affection, and quality time are pretty much his main priorities. He ain't got much going on. Older baby groot, like toddler groot, is more active and perceptive, so I'd say his main receiving language is words of affirmation, and his main giving language is acts of service.

TEEN GROOT

Teen groot is broody and angsty, and he's definitely not thinking about other's feelings. So I'm gonna say while it's rare, when he does show affection, it's act of service. Receiving is pretty much anything, he doesn't really care right now.

At least not about the specifics.

-

YOUNG ADULT GROOT

Now, groot is much more loving and affectionate. He is receptive to all love languages, and gives them all too. Except, theres not much use in words of affirmation for him unless he really loves the person.

-----

MANTIS

RECEIVING

Anything. As long as she can clearly tell it's love/affection, it's effective. Like Peter, she just wants to be loved.

GIVING

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION.

Being able to verbally explain how she feels to someone, and how she may appreciate that person, is the most confident option for her. She thinks that it's pretty effective, and is the safest option. She probably also never got a lot of affection at all before the Guardians, but I think she appreciates mental and social affection more than physical.

LEAST FAVORITE

Doesn't have one.

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

NEBULA

(Last one I'm doing this post then I'll do a few more in a second post)

RECEIVING

QUALITY TIME.

Like board games and stuff, or at least thats what I think she wants, deep down. I feel like maybe she doesn't realize this is one of her love languages. Like it's subconscious.

GIFT GIVING.

With her upbringing, she only had things taken away. Giving her something of importance may mean a lot to her. Like her new arm in Vol3. Again since shes still a little emotionally constipated, she may not really realize this.

GIVING.

She doesn't really understand how to sort of actively pursue a friendship or how to read someones love language, so her giving language is probably just existing in the same space as someone without criticizing them. Because she doesn't quite know how to do more than that, or at least isn't comfortable right now. But she wants to and deep down she's trying.

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

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!

I'll do like Adam Warlock and stuff next.

[raelle-writing]

DFF is such great show and I enjoy the portrayal of the characters and the plot. Although I am not much into JinPhee ship (even though their scene was hot) - meaning I won't actively search fics of them;-D. But I absolutely don't understand the hate this ship gets. Or Jin character gets? Like, did I miss something? Why there is so much hate towards this pairing? I don't get it. Or do they dislike Jin character so much?

So I think there are 3 main reasons that people hate PheeJin and specifically Jin as much as they do, and I'll see if I can explain it coherently below lmao

First is cultural differences.

I've noticed that by and large a lot of the hatred directed at Jin comes from international fans being extremely harsh, and I think it's partially because they don't understand some of the nuance of Thai culture. Which to be fair, why would they?

One aspect is that they get angry that Jin lied to the police without taking into account that the police are corrupt - both in the narrative and also in Thailand in general.

Another is they get mad at Jin for recording Non - which to be fair, really does suck lmao. But they make it about Jin recording Non instead of reporting the assault happening, without taking into consideration that the age of consent in Thailand is 15, which means that what happened with Non and Keng isn't technically statuatory rape. Still bad and awful and Non was coerced and assaulted, don't get me wrong - but that makes it slightly less clear cut IMO when it comes to the question of Jin seeing Non "cheating."

You can even see within the show that the reactions to that video are by and large slut-shaming and not "omg that kid was assaulted."

So to recap: Taking the video = bad. But I think people get a bit too self-righteous about the reasons why Jin took it.

Second is purity/cancel culture.

I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that in the internet age, if you make one mistake you're a terrible, irredeemable person and should be canceled forever. I think that's playing a part in this. All of the characters make mistakes, and because of that they're all irredeemable pieces of shit who deserve to die. Except for Non who is just a victim and has never done anything wrong (sarcasm).

In seriousness, I think that's part of it. And the fact that Non is SO sympathetic it kind of overrides people's sympathies for the other characters. I'm not 100% sure why people hate Jin the most out of everyone else considering he's the one who has tried to help Non the most out of the friend group... I guess they just have higher standards for people who try to help? Idk. Either way it seems to me that they expect Jin to be a perfectly-well-adjusted little hero who always does what's right and never makes mistakes. Instead of what he really is: a kid.

And last is fan favorites/shipping.

A big part of the reason that PheeJin shippers are getting so much hate is because TaCode shippers and PheeNon shippers have decided their ship is The Ship of the series, and think that Phee is just using Jin for revenge and anyone who genuinely ships PJ is fucked up, etc.

It's just ship war bullshit waged by largely Barcode stans, but it's certainly tiresome.

To be clear, I have nothing against PheeNon. I am of the opinion that Phee and Non were a cute high school romance that wouldn't have lasted because they had conflicting styles of showing affection and love (I'll write a post about it someday lol) but that doesn't mean I hate the ship. I thought they were very cute and it was fun to see TaCode on screen since I wrote MacauChay in my KPTS days ahahaha I just like the spice and fire of PheeJin better, and Jin is my favorite character.

I just wish that PheeNon shippers would live and let live instead of acting like they're waging some moral war. They were even crying in BOC's comment section on IG today after they posted the PheeJin poster for episode 9 saying "nooooo Phee is there for revenge he can't really have feelings for Jin!" It's exhausting... 🫠

General disclaimer: if you don't like Jin or like PheeNon better I'm not saying any of the above things applies to you. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, I'm just dissecting some of the over-the-top hate I've seen/experienced in fandom spaces lately.

[fleurelinathehybrid]

💛[Chapter 26: Keeping up with a deal]💛

If one were to compare kingdoms among the members of the Endless, undoubtedly none would equal the kingdom of Night of the Endless in beauty and danger.

The structures of her palace bore a certain similarity to those of the palace of her "favorite son", Dream. However, the enormous difference was that the color of the pillars could easily be confused with the darkness of the night itself; the same darkness that she used for her preferred method of torture: Black Holes.

Desire recognizes, deep down, that perhaps Dream desperately longs for his kingdom to resemble hers, only in the vague hope of receiving a token of her affection.

⟪Who are we trying to fool? She will never love us. We only played at being a family when she felt like it. Neither she nor Time have loved us as much as they loved themselves.⟫

Theirs thoughts were expressed clearly; Making this sacrifice was as valuable or even less than Night could value. However, it was the only way to prevent her from causing suffering to their siblings and niece. No, she is definitely innocent of the atrocities this disturbed woman could inflict on her.

—I've arrived! —they exclaimed with a hint of panic in their voice.

The silence was something thunderous and terrifying, despite being illuminated by the stars that adorned the walls of their mother's palace. They looked like they had been painted by the most talented mortals who had ever existed on Earth, despite their true material. And even their brother Dream had the same kingdom design as her.

—Mother, are you here? I'm here! —they shouted again, with a little impatience. —I kept my part of the agreement! If I come in peace, you don't bother my brothers or the girl!

Once again it was the most uncomfortable silence, and Desire was already getting desperate.

—I'm not playing, Night! —they exclaims, their face already red with impatience and anger—Don't make me regret it! GET OUT THE DAMN TIME!!

And this time, there is no silence.

The structures of their mother's palace begin to shake, causing them to fall abruptly to the ground from the sudden shaking of the pillars. Desire feels, genuinely, that they should not have opened their mouth and uttered insults at their mother, even if they were desperate and almost regretted having entered the wolf's teeth.

"Watch your tone of voice in my presence, Desire"

The fifth Endless swallows after hearing that; without being warned, she was capable of cutting out their tongues.

A pool of stellar waters located in the center of the pillars begins to tremble, causing the drops within the water to vibrate in time with the tremors in the place. And when Desire thought this wasn't getting any worse, Night proceeds to appear from within the pond, making the color of the water lighten as the voluptuous and beautiful figure of her mother emerges from the pond, wearing a black dress. Her wet and wavy hair like her sister Death's, barely stopped touching the water, fluffed up with a single shake.

—Sorry… mother. —the child speaks with their voice hanging by a thread.

Night smiles at them, with an obvious hint of sarcasm. She comes out of the pond, dazzling as she always does, and approaches her child after noticing that they're still on the ground. Desire, on the other hand, tries to recover from the near heart attack caused by their mother's reception.

—So you made a decision about the deal I offered you, huh? —Night speaks to them flirtatiously, while with her magic she levitates her child to help them get up. Once standing, she begins to surround them and look at them more closely. —Why are you dressed like that, child? Your clothing is usually more elegant.

—I'm not in the mood to dress as usual, mother. —they say dryly, feeling extremely uncomfortable after her approach. —Why would you care to know?

—Because I am your mother, Desire. I must always know everything. —she responds with a touch of coldness, placing her hands on her child's shoulders.

—I doubt it, seriously. —Desire looks at her with a small glimmer of bravery. —Besides, I only came to fulfill the deal. Don't you dare bother my brothers or my niece, and... I'll stay with you.

A small giggle escapes Night's lips, putting Desire on alert. Immediately, around them, there was nothing but darkness itself. The anthropomorphic being of Wishes looked at their mother with obvious mistrust, until they noticed: she did not get lost in the darkness as she did most of the time.

And, much more terrifying, his eyes shone like two lighthouses pointing at a ship.

—You? Stay with me, voluntarily? —their mother asks them, very intrigued. —Don't make me laugh, Desire.

—My intention is not to make you laugh, no, it is to make sure that you are going to keep your part of the deal. —Desire clarifies, with a burning flame of anger in their golden orbs— And I do it voluntarily, because I am not a coward like you and Time. I've already disappointed those I love, and I'm not going to do it again. I won't let her down too.

A look full of evil seeks to penetrate Desire deep into their bones, they tries to keep the flare of anger in their eyes, but it immediately goes out and they feel fear right in front of their nose.

—Well, child, if you say so. —she holds their jaw with her hand, so that his nails try to pierce her child's perfect face. —You are very brave to have the guts to come see me, very surprising.

Desire's teeth are shown to Night, letting her understand that she was fulfilling her purpose of tormenting them.

—However, you were wrong. —smiles maliciously— I will not attack your siblings, only my favorite son; obviously I won't do that either because I made a deal and you fulfilled me from the beginning.

Behind Desire, a strange portal opens with the matter made of their mother. They did not need to turn their head, not only because their mother prevented them from doing so with her grip, but because they already recognized perfectly that it was what was behind them.

It was a fucking black hole.

They focused their gaze again on their mother, without any hint of bravery whatsoever. Night no longer had the headlights in his eyes, only darkness. That same darkness that characterized her as always.

Like the evil mother they were used to fearing.

—I'll see you soon, child.

After these words, she decided to throw them into the hole. Without giving them a chance to fight.

[earnmysong]

P F & T for the fic meme!

thanks so much for asking, lovely!

P: ARCHITECT - story built and planned out or GARDENER - story unfolds as you, and it, progress

i'm such a freaking gardener, MY GOD! there's never any planning ahead. i usually literally say to myself 'well, shit, [exhibits a-z] gave me feelings. what would it look like if...' then, i type a bunch of emotions into a doc and make my chaos mildly more coherent. you've saved my ass from myself a time two as well, for which i'm eternally grateful!

F: one of my favorite dialogue exchanges in my repertoire, with explanation

this rather lengthy snippet of 'experience has made me rich' holds a high spot in the rankings:

“Good God, Alexis! Were you mugged?” David’s concern manifests rather forcefully and in an extremely high octave. She startles, scrunching away from the noise and blocking her ear with an arm. The closest arm, sure, but definitely the wrong choice.

“Ouch, fuck!” she hisses, cradling her ice-chilled {also bandage-wrapped and currently about five times its regular size} wrist. Silver lining? She can finally feel her pulse! Except, it’s kind of, like, not where it should be, and it seems really angry and basically shocks her whenever she moves. She must not be exactly at her quietest, either, because Ted glances over, every feature of his face asking if she’s okay. She smiles, shoos him back to steadying their daughter on that murderous contraption. “Hey, David? I, um, kind of broke myself?”

“Mhmmm, yes. I did notice that. Sort of difficult to miss the striking resemblance between you and Anna Paquin after her car crash in that movie you always lose your shit over? Where she’s Mother Goose? And how exactly have we achieved this ultimate form of flattery and maimed ourselves so spectacularly this fine spring evening?”

“Okay, first of all? Shut up, David. Fly Away Home is fantastic and you totally got misty when Len held you hostage and finally forced you to watch over Chrismukkah. Don’t bother denying. Lying is beneath us now. Also?” She fluffs her hair, bracing herself to recount her harrowing ordeal. “Len’s got a shiny new itch to be a tinier, much more adorable Tony Hawk? Because of the Vans.” She growls the brand at him; he peers down apologetically – he’s probably wearing the traitors as they speak – and scoots himself slightly farther back. “She assigned me the role of guru, and I said: What the hell? It’ll be like surfing. But on solid ground.”

“I don’t think –” David grimaces at her misguided logic, nods in understanding. “That hasn’t ended well for you?”

Alexis treats him to a slow, shaky pan of her battered physique in case he requires assistance to arrive at the correct answer. “Clearly not, David,” she huffs. 

“Yes, well. To render the sting of your obviously declining athletic aptitude less sharp, I’ve just shipped you the largest, most expensive bottle of peach schnapps that a five-minute search can yield.” She flips him off. “I also took the liberty of having ‘Get Well Soon’ engraved on an ice bucket, to both commemorate the occasion and be available in the event of future mishaps. Whether these will relate to beverages or body parts of course remains to be seen.” 

“So much love!” Sarcasm edges her cheer, but her grin is genuine; she boops his nose through the screen. 

Then: “Mommy, I can almost land an ollie!” Len announces proudly, clambering up to sit next to Alexis as Ted mouths She can stay upright. “Are you alive? That was so much blood! And, see? I told you I memorized Daddy’s numb – Oh! Hi, Uncle David! Did Mommy tell you she taught me to skateboard?” 

David snorts in a ridiculously impolite manner, choking down the rest of his chuckle. “You could say that. The marvelous Ms. Mullens she most definitely is not, however. Oooh, have we added to our wardrobe without consultation?” 

Alexis listens to Lennox and David chat while Ted examines her mangled wrist. “Um, babe? Are you sure this – ” he’s pushing gently on various spots “- is the safest bet? Like, knowing something’s broken when I pass out in the park?”

“I’m not just going out on a limb, Lex. I have had practice.” Ted laughs, pressing his lips softly to hers, trading an unnerving touch for one flooded with comfort and calm; okay, yes, he might be, like, an expert at taking care of everything he encounters. 

“No. No.” David’s insistent scold cuts into their impromptu make-out sesh far sooner than she appreciates. “None of that, please. Your child is present and that fact alone should deter you. Because I am well-acquainted with your habits, however, I must also submit this for your consideration - my sister has wreaked enough havoc upon herself in a single afternoon to, quite possibly, last a lifetime.  Do we really want to put her further at risk, given some of the fun in which you’ve engaged in the past?” 

okay, so! my affinity for, and admiration of, dan levy et al. and 'schitt's creek' as a whole is storied and unrepeatable. typically, i would be terrified to attempt to capture the essence of a universe i value that highly. because i love SC as much as i do, still, i also wanted to see how close i could get. i'd already written two installments of the saga before this, but they'd only featured alexis and ted. here, david enters and the established tiny human speaks. i ended up coming pretty close to the mark, if i do say so myself, a fact that makes me smile, even a few years removed.

T: fandom tropes i can't stand

i don't necessarily understand when protagonists are paired romantically with villains who showed no glimmer of redemption in canon [carol danvers/yon-rogg, jyn/krennic, etc]. also? i'm not one for when violence extends beyond the action/fight sequence realm.

[deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist]

Before I get started with my usual ravings/shout out on my favorite bits, let me make one thing perfectly clear: don’t EVER apologize for the length of your chapters! I needed this so badly today – it has been a two star shit show, and this chapter single-handedly turned that around. I got swept up and devoured the chapter first without even looking for my favorite parts, then got to read it again at my leisure and pull my favorite gems off of this stunning crown

“Where the question wasn’t could you leave the bed, logistically, but did you even want to? Was it really worth it for two stupid phones? Here you had to convince yourself that you’d woken up to Ben holding you many times before, and this wasn’t any different. This was the same, really. Semantically. You’d be back soon anyway. It would barely be three minutes to go to the living room, grab the phones, and return. But he wasn’t making it easy.” I loved this - you could cut the indecision with a knife, and it was so funny!

“Guess who earned phone privileges.” You don’t wait for his response before pushing off the door and presenting the phone dramatically. “It starts with you and ends with cunt.” 🤣🤣

“I was fucking wrong. Fix it.” His voice is low, gravely and annoyed with clipped words, but you can still feel the jagged affection in him.” I love the phrase “jagged affection” - that is so him!

I absolutely adore “You don’t have a goddamn clue how fucking bad I want you. But I’m not going to make you do a damn thing you don’t want.” because THAT is growth right there! And him giving her the last of the jam and more yogurt – love that!

“Return the fucking compliment. I worked hard on it, and texting is fucking stupid.” / “Your compliment sounds like you're a teenager who just found out his dick wasn’t just for pissing.” Have I mentioned how much I absolutely love these two? (If I could find a man who could match my sarcasm like that… But I digress…) And that second “compliment” - dead! The whole “huge fucking baby” exchange - especially “I could tell you, or just show you,” you twist your face in mock concern. “But that would be teaching you and that never works out for me-“ she is absolutely savage, and I love her!!!

“What could I possibly not want to see,” Ben says, giving you an incredulous look. “Sex? Death? Torture? Which of those do you think would make me gasp like a pussy grasping their fucking Sunday pearls.” HOW on earth do you make him so coarse and sweet in one fell swoop? I just am in awe of how you write him!

“Well, I’ll also suck on your beautiful fucking face until you’re begging me to fuck you. And then I won’t, because I’m a gentleman. And you wouldn’t be of sound mind.” BWAHAHA!!!!

“you want to win. You don’t want to trick him and come out on top. You want to win and fucking earn it.

He called Hughie by his name?!?! “That kid is the only one of those pussies who seems to genuinely mean it when he says shit. I can respect that.” He walks into the bathroom, glancing back at you once. “Read his fucking text.” Damn, more growth! And the fact that he actually did it because Hughie was checking on her and making sure she’s OK… Dammit, that withered Dusty thing in the center of my chest is starting to twitch and feel all fuzzy! But then “Two things,” he says your name in that low, deep way that makes everything spin a little. “You get to teach me two things. If you try to pull three on me, the sucking face is off the table.” Ah, there’s our beloved asshole again!

The whole “what if I fuck the Dog exchange – my stomach hurts. I was laughing so hard as it went on, getting more unhinged - “I work for the CIA, Sunshine.” Ben says smugly. “Not much more fucking upstanding than that.” “Way to ruin the fucking mood.” I love this SO HARD!!

Speaking of hard: “Someone is out to get you. Some hidden facet of the universe has an agenda against you” NO DOUBT! I love that she experienced his dream and orgasm – feeling his pain from his nightmares is bad enough - but God, what an exquisite torture that would be! The whole “no lies” exchange was perfection, as was “You kiss a man a few times and suddenly he’s doing chores without being a bitch.” But the sarcastic cherry on that gloriously awkward and sweet exchange: “You’re a piece of fucking work,” he says your name in something that sounds like awe, and something is leaving a mark inside you, on your ribs.” <chef’s kiss>

“when you look back for only a second, he’s smiling after you. A toothy, content, easy grin that makes his eyes sparkle and face look like all he’s ever felt is joy. Never any cold Russian nights or sour, consuming revenge. Just joy. Warm, simple joy.” Damn, it got dusty in here fast! “You’ll have him like this, and make it be enough. This will be enough. Because Ben is everything, and you don’t deserve everything. He wouldn’t give you everything anyway. So you’ll have this. You’ll have his joy and let it carry you everywhere. And that will fucking be enough.” <sniff> does anyone smell onions? <sniff> “He wasn’t going to stop until he had it all memorized… because if Ben could figure out why She liked something, he could find a million new ways to do it… his orchestra was the most fucking perfect woman to ever exist. And then, unless She made him, he wouldn’t ever stop…actually fucking Her might kill him. And he was okay with that. It would be a worthy death.” <grabbing tissue> damn allergies <sniff>. “Ben was trying to just pretend he was very calm about it and not trying to figure out ways he could keep Her doing that without hurting her or pushing her away. Even if he couldn’t figure out why that was needed.” And then he gets his answer - and the fact that he knows, and is still so protective - forking EPIC!

“Kimiko says my tits are magic, but not as magic as Butcher’s. Which proves he’s just a dick, because if it was about magic tits he’d have the game on lock.” And there’s the emotional whiplash I love that you make rain throughout their relationship! “It’s not my fault you have such good tits… They’re fucking weapons of war.”

“She has you this time, the Thing reminded him. If this goes to shit, she’ll always fucking have you.<sniff> damn allergies

“you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect. “You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him.” <wipes eyes> “She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.” The Onion Ninjas have killed me, I am dead and writing this from beyond the grave.

The scene with Neumann and Zoe was great, him getting g her back to the van was sweet, and “It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him. Something of Her, forever.” was perfect. This whole damn thing is perfect! And when it’s over, I’m gonna need this in a PDF format, to save someplace safe where I can read it again and again in case Tumblr ever falls, or the Internet is gone, because I adore this story and the way you write them so very much. BRAVA!!!

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I’d like to dedicate this Chapter to Eric Kripke. This one’s for you. Bitch. Chapter Title from Under Pressure By Queen & David Bowie.

Word Count: 21.6k (I'm crazy. I'm on a roll. I haven't slept more than 4 hours.)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben get's a phone, and Victoria Neuman undergoes big changes. Usual warnings. Also somnophilia? Kind of? You'll see.

Read on A03!

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

This was going to be a very long, entertaining day.

You get up early in the morning, sneaking downstairs to grab the phones you’d left abandoned after last night’s fight and subsequent not-fight. Kissing. You’d kissed Ben.

A lot. 

It didn’t feel real. It had been real—you were sure of it—because you woke up on Ben’s chest and could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. It was real because his arms were wrapped around your waist, and his hands were slightly under your shirt so his fingers brushed your skin. He hadn’t done that before, touched you like that in his sleep. He’d mostly rolled up to you like a very large dog, never touching your skin unless you fell asleep with him already doing so. You’d never been sure if it was purposeful, subconscious, or just something you were overthinking. Just coincidental, simply a byproduct of how he’d essentially throw himself on top of you, tangling blankets and creating natural barriers between your bodies.

But this touch felt purposeful. This touch felt important. Careful and low on your back and different. It was undeniable evidence that last night had been real and not simply another dream.

It took a lot of effort to get out of bed. There was the physical game, where you had to remove yourself from Ben’s grasp without waking him up. It involved slow and measured movements, a lot of stopping and waiting when he shifted or snored a little too loud, and several reevaluations of your methods when Ben just pulled you tighter against him.

Then there was the mental game. Where the question wasn’t could you leave the bed, logistically, but did you even want to? Was it really worth it for two stupid phones? Here you had to convince yourself that you’d woken up to Ben holding you many times before, and this wasn’t any different. This was the same, really. Semantically. You’d be back soon anyway. It would barely be three minutes to go to the living room, grab the phones, and return. But he wasn’t making it easy. He kept bringing you closer, kept making disgruntled sounds when you got a little too far away, and his warm and rough hands on your skin made it hard to do anything that would take them away from you. At one point you were pushing yourself away from Ben’s chest—so close to being home free and able to roll out of the bed—and you brushed up against his morning wood.

You had to take a few deep breaths before you could start moving again.

After a tremendous amount of mental effort, some very strategic and well-timed squirming, and another quarter hour you’d gotten out of Ben’s arms and fallen down to the floor. You’d stood up slowly, tiptoed to the door, and all but ran down the stairs. The phones had fallen under the couch and between the cushions during last night’s events, and you managed to fish them out in only a few minutes. The mission was successful, because you’d gotten the phones in faster than you’d thought you would and Ben was still none the wiser to your absence. Sure, your phone was dead and Ben’s was covered in dust, but you had a charger on your bedside table and Ben would have to just be grateful he got a phone.

Now, you’re climbing up the stairs in soft steps, both phones in hand. When you open the door to your room you start a little, because you see Ben sitting up against the headboard and giving you a frown that borders on a pout, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Good morning,” you say cautiously, scanning his face as you lean against the now-closed door with your hands behind your back.

“Where did you go?”

You blink at Ben’s grumble. “Downstairs? I didn’t mean to wake you-” 

“Why,” Ben snaps, and you realize that—despite the sleep lingering in his eyes—he’s upright, hands clenched at his side, leaning forwards slightly. You can even hear something edged into his voice as he continues. “What the fuck were you doing.”

There’s a warm, humming feeling of need and comfort in your gut. It’s trying to move you towards Ben, to pull the frown off his face with your lips, but it’s not stronger than the spark in your chest. The little, bright desire that makes you feel light. That feeds off of Ben’s deep voice and surly behavior and just him.

“Aw,” you tilt your head at him with a mocking smile. “Did you miss me?”

His frown deepens. “No.” 

“I think you missed me. I think you’re grumpy because you woke up and I wasn’t there.”

His scowl is almost adorable. “I’m not fucking grumpy.” You raised your brows at him with a light, teasing grin on your face. “Shut up.”

You hum. “If you keep whining I’m not giving you your gift.”

“Gift?”

You give Ben a grin. “Guess who earned phone privileges.” You don’t wait for his response before pushing off the door and presenting the phone dramatically. “It starts with you and ends with cunt.”

You throw the phone to him, walking towards the bed as you do, and he catches it with ease. “Brat.”

“Just for that I’m not telling you what your passcode is.”

 “Passcode?” 

“Oh shut up,” you give him a flat look, dropping on the edge of the mattresses. “You know what a passcode is.”

“Phones don’t have passcodes. You open them with your face.”

You snort at Ben’s indignant expression. “Your face?”

“That’s how you fucking open yours,” Ben glances between the phone in his hand and you, holding his gaze as you slowly scooting across the bed to plug your own phone in. “I’m not a goddamn idiot-“

“Then open it.” You nod at the phone, clenched in Ben’s hand. “If I’m wrong, just open it.”

He gives you one last glare, tapping the screen roughly. The phone lights on, displaying a picture of his shield where it's still resting in your bathroom. Ben blinks at the screen, before looking up at you with a frown.

“That’s my shield.”

“I know,” you scan his face, trying to gauge his reaction without touching him. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to choose a wallpaper for Ben’s phone. A band logo felt weird, you’d considered just a stock photo of the Grand Canyon several times, and there was no way you were about to just put his face there. That would’ve meant scrolling through a lot of old Soldier Boy promotional photo shoots, and you had already missed him enough. That would’ve just been cruel to you. Eventually you’d decided the shield was a safe bet, and just taken a photo of it as a placeholder. He could change it later, but you still really wanted him to like it. Which was annoying, because it was just a photo, and he didn’t even know—nor did he have to ever know—how much effort had gone into it. You’d deleted several angles you deemed bad and shots you thought were blurry. He better like it, because that was fifteen minutes of your life you’d never get back.

Ben looked back at the photo with a frown. “How did you get that?”

You blink. “What, the photo?”

He grunts in affirmation, still staring at the screen.

“I took it?” You say slowly, and he looks up at you.

“With what. How did it get there.”

“With a camera? You’re not that old,” you meet Ben’s surly frown with a small smile, nudging his shoulder. A mistake, because his confusion runs through you with something rough and easy that sits in your chest. “You’ve definitely seen a camera before. You lived in front of cameras.”

 “Cameras are big. I’d have fucking notice if you had one.”

“Welcome to the wonders of modern technology,” you reach over his body, flipping the phone over in his hand and tapping the lenses. “Phones have cameras now.”

 You look back up at Ben with a grin, and find him still watching you. The rough and easy thing is growing strong through where you’re touching, and your faces are a lot closer together than you’d realized.

“So, um,” you can’t make yourself move, the intensity of Ben’s gaze locking you against him. “I took the photo. I can show you how-“ 

From the corner of your eye, you see Ben drop the phone just before he kisses you. His hand moves up, cupping your face to angle it where he wants you, and you let him. Because this is real, and it makes your head spin happily. There’s no noise in your head about trying to notice everything around you and fit it into a puzzle, no reeling about what Ben’s thinking. Because you’re falling against his back, leaning over his shoulder, and his lips are soft against yours. All you feel is Ben.

When he pulls back, he has a smug grin on his face. “I can’t believe it’s that easy to shut you up. I should’ve done this months ago.”

“Fuck you,” you try and snap, but the words come out breathless and lustful. “Stop trying to distract me-“

“You don’t seem to be stopping me,” he winks, and you knee him in the back.

“Shut it. Open the phone.”

He rolls his eyes, but picks it up from his lap. He manages to figure out that you need to swipe up himself, and you feel the tight frustration grow in him when the passcode display pops up. You wait several minutes, letting Ben glower at the screen as he aggressively taps it. That frustration builds in him and you feel it move to coil in your stomach from where you still lean over his shoulder. 

“Ready to admit defeat?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, hitting another set of random numbers with a rigid hand. The words too many failed attempts, try again in 1 minute cover the screen, and Ben’s grip on the phone tenses, enough that you’re surprised the screen doesn’t crack. “What does that fucking mean.”

“It means you don’t know the passcode, so the phone is locked for a minute. If you get it wrong four more times, all the data gets erased.”

He turns his head to glare at you. “Fix it.”

“Say you were wrong.”

“No.”

You shrug, “then I’m not fixing it.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Right back at you, Pretty Boy. Say you were wrong.”

“I was fucking wrong. Fix it.” His voice is low, gravely and annoyed with clipped words, but you can still feel the jagged affection in him. So you smile sweetly, grabbing the phone from his hand as the minute ends.

You’re hanging around him, body pressed right against his back, head resting on his shoulder, and arms reaching around his neck as you hold the phone up for you both to see. “It’s 696969,” you enter each number as you speak. “Easy to remember. I can set up the face thing for you later, if you want.”

He grunts, taking the phone back as you return it to his hand. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with it.”

“Whatever you want, I guess. I put in all the contacts you need, and downloaded some apps-“

“Apps? What the fuck are apps?”

“Jesus,” you mutter to yourself, fully realizing you’re going to have to walk Ben through this like he’s a toddler. “Apps are an abbreviation for applications. You put them on your phone for different things, like texting or entertainment or shopping.”

“I don’t need entertainment. I have you.”

His words, paired with the firm way he says them—like simple and obvious fact—make you feel warm and dizzy, but you just hum. “Then just don’t use it for that. It’s your phone, Ben, you do what you want with it.”

“What do you use it for?” His hand comes up to hold your arm around him as he frowns at you.

“My phone?” You have to clarify, because he’s so close and there’s no way he’s not touching you like that on purpose. Trying to make it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Fucking obviously.”

You whack his chest with your free arm. “Shut up.”

“Answer my question.”

You try to tune out how his hand is starting to rub against your arm, now certain he’s doing it deliberately. “I don’t know, what does anyone use phones for? Texting, music, photos, social media, porn-“

“Porn? You use this for porn?”

“Everyone does. There’s lots of porn on the internet, and the internet is on your phone.”

“What kind of porn?”

“All of it,” you shrug. “If you can think of it, it’s a safe bet it’s on there.”

“No,” Ben tugs you forward a little further, grinning cockily. “What kind of porn do you use?”

You gape at him like a fish. “I, uh, I dunno. Regular porn?”

“You can be more fucking specific than that,” his smile is growing, and you can feel his amusement growing with lust. You have to stop yourself drooling as you respond, because his hunger in your gut is making you thirsty, and his face is so unfairly attractive and distractingly close to yours.

“I am not sharing my porn habits with you, Ben.”

“Why the hell not?” He says your name and it vibrates through you. “I can promise you, it won’t be something I haven’t fucking seen before. If it’s porn, I’ve seen it.”

That makes you snort. “I doubt that.”

The hunger in Ben grows, moving down, down, down into you. “What kind of freaky shit are you into that I wouldn’t have seen, Sunshine?”

“No, that’s not-“ you take a deep breath, because you need to defend yourself, and that’s hard to do when everything feels hot and aching. “There’s like, a lot of porn on the internet. A lot. And I can promise you there’s some shit that even you’ve never seen.”

“Promise?” You can’t meet Ben’s eyes as he teases you, because you can feel the strength of his desire and that alone is making you feel faint and feverish. Looking at him would be counterproductive. “That’s a dangerous fucking promise to make, beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

He hums. “I think you need to prove it.” You don’t answer, still refusing to let yourself look at him, and Ben tugs at your arm slightly. “Can you fucking prove it?”

“It is not my job to prove that the internet has porn,” you manage to mumble, and he chuckles.

“Maybe not, but I think we’re a little fucking past only doing things for our jobs.”

“Fuck you.”

Suddenly, Ben is pulling you around his body, using his hold on your arm to spin you into his lap. His other hand moves up, running through your hair and pulling your head up to look at him, and his whole face is alight with almost ravenous hunger. You can’t look away, even if you wanted to.  He leans forward, until he’s just a fraction of an inch from you, and whispers, “All you have to do is fucking ask, and you can.”

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing his shirt, forcing him forward to close the space between you. This kiss isn’t quite as brutal as last night, but that doesn’t mean it’s not just as desperate. Your legs wrap around Ben’s torso, trying to bring him closer as he tugs at your hair to make your head move further back. His arm is back around you, pushing you up against him as he groans into your mouth, and it makes you moan in response. You can feel him, growing hard against your ass as he sucks on your lower lip, and you’ve never felt a devouring need as strong as the one in Ben that’s climbing through your blood and up your spine. It takes every single sliver and bit of willpower you possess to not just give into him, let Ben just keep going until every part of you is flooded with just him and his body.

It’s just lust, a small voice ringings in your head. Not what you have. Only lust. 

But that sharp and loud feeling in Ben’s chest is still there. It’s pushing against the lust, making it bigger. And he’s right here, and breathing raggedly into your mouth. His muscles are rippling around you, and his whole body is controlled like he’s holding himself back. He feels so good, and all he’s doing is kissing you. It would be so easy to make him feel like this, to return all he’s giving you by touching him where he’s pushing into your skin.

But if you do that, you’ll just be falling further. You’d already failed to stop yourself just tasting him in the simplest way. If you reached down, even if you were just giving him your hand, that would be another thing you’d need to have forever. Another thing that made you need more.

So when Ben pulls back, first just taking a sharp breath before leaning back down for one last, wet, heavy kiss before resting his forehead against yours, you have to chose your words carefully, picking them out and saying them slowly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?“ You ask, your heart still pounding in your ears.

“Okay with what?” He grunts, and you almost moan just from his voice. Deep and hoarse and just as needy as you feel.

“This being it right now. Not, you know,” you glance down pointedly. “More.”

“Of fucking course I am.” Ben sounds offended, like the answer no is unfathomable to him. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be.” 

“Because, uh,” you lean back a little to fully meet his eyes, your voice unsteady. “You’re you.”

He scowls, and you can feel his frustration return like a train crashing into you. Tight and sour in his chest. “What the fuck does that mean.”

It’s hard to keep looking at him. “You founded herogasm. 40% of what you say is some sort of innuendo. It’s not bad,” your own voice is anxious, because you think, know, that you want Ben—just physically, not to mention the other part—more than he wants you. If this pushes him away, makes him stop kissing you until your mouth is slightly swollen and you’re aching, you’d hate yourself for taking that away from you. “It’s really not. But I just, I can’t do the uh, bigger stuff,” bad word choice, because you can still feel him against your thigh and now all you can think about is shifting to bring him closer. “So I just, I just want to make sure this is enough. For you.”

The sourness is still in him, but his voice isn’t bitter or angry when he speaks. It’s almost stern. “You fucking trust me, yeah?” 

“Of course I do.” The words had barely left his mouth when you answer, your response almost instinctual.

“Then believe me when I say that I’m more than damn fine with this.”

You shake your head. “It’s more complicated than that, Ben-“

“No it’s not. I want this, you want this. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t also want to fuck you, because I’m not a damn pussy and I really fucking do.” He pushes his hips upwards to emphasize the evidence against you, and you have to bite down a whine. “You don’t have a goddamn clue how fucking bad I want you. But I’m not going to make you do a damn thing you don’t want.”

“I do want,” your words are weak, and you can’t stop them falling out of you. “Want you. I want you. But it’s just, I can’t-“

“Is this enough for you?” Ben says your name, scanning your face with that look that strings every piece of you apart for him to have.

No.

“Yes.”

He nods roughly, moving you a little further up against his chest. “Then stop asking stupid questions.”

Being so close to him makes every part of you a little higher—a little—and it’s easy to say, “make me.” 

Ben laughs, and it’s loud and smooth and comfortable. “Brat.”

You open your mouth to say something, probably, but any and all words are forgotten when his mouth slams back into yours. In only a heartbeat his arms tighten under yours as his knee is pushing you further upwards by your ass, standing up off the bed with one steady and fluid movement. You can hear the sound of his phone falling to the ground, but can’t really bring yourself to care because Ben’s dropping his head to your neck and sucking at it as he walks you backwards, sitting you with surprising care against the dresser. He’s running his hands up your back, into your hair, holding you still while his mouth finds your collarbone. Kissing a line across it and making you moan right into his ear-

A small, annoyed sound escapes your throat when he pulls back with a lazy grin. “Yogurt and toast?”

“Wha…” You trail off, your brain struggling to return to speech in the fog of Ben still holding your thigh and tracing a thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Yogurt and toast.”

“I heard you,” you frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben moves forwards just a quarter-step, and you’re made aware of the fact that he’s standing between your legs. “Breakfast. What the fuck else could I be talking about.”

“I don’t know, I just wasn’t thinking about breakfast.” 

“What were you thinking about?” 

You shove at his chest, and he doesn’t even pretend to be affected. “Fuck you.” 

“I could’ve guessed that,” Ben winks, and your whole face becomes heated. 

“You can’t just make that same joke every time I say that,” you manage to grumble. “It’s not going to get funnier.” 

“It’s not supposed to be funny, it’s supposed to make you horny,” he scans your body slowly, leaning into his, thighs pressed together, hands grabbing at his shirt. “And I’d say it’s doing its job real fucking well.”

“Fuck-“ you scowl as you cut yourself off. His eyes return to yours, glowing with the smug, satisfied feeling you can feel near his gut. You stick your tongue out at him as a backup plan, which immediately backfires because Ben nips at it quickly before kissing you one last time. It’s messy and long and the moment you completely give into it he’s gone.

“Get changed,” Ben tells you as he walks towards the hallway door. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You’re a fucking tease!” you call after him, and his snort echoes through the house.

It only takes you a minute to change, time that is mostly spent collecting yourself and checking your now-charged phone. There’s a testing message from Mallory that you give thumbs up to, a simple hi from Kimiko you respond to with a smile, and a very long and detailed text from Annie about the details of Stand Edgar’s deal that you decide to read later in favor of Butchers more to-the-point words.

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Soldier Boy’s blasting Neuman for Edgar. Need a day to set it up, then we move. Can’t let word get to her.

You pick Ben’s phone up from where it had landed just under the bed, and make your way downstairs. Ben is waiting for you in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and glaring at the doorway before he sees you. His mouth opens to say something when you come into view, but before he can you’re throwing his phone to his face without warning.

He catches it—You’d hadn’t bothered to worry about if he would, because you’d see him catch a knife out of the air while stomping up the stairs—and gives you an annoyed frown. “You changed too slow.”

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” you walk around to sit beside him as you speak. “Butcher says they only need a day before we move on Neuman.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Lovely. Open your phone.” 

“Why,” he grumbles, and you shrug.

“To prove you were listening and remember the passcode.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but glares down at the device in his hand. You watch in amusement as his face draws into a focused frown, angrily smashing the numbers on the display with his forefinger. When it unlocks he looks at you with a self-satisfied grin. “Fucking piece of cake.”

“Uh huh,” you give him a mocking nod and smile. “Now send a text.” 

“A text?” 

“If you’re such a tech savant, send a text,” your smile becomes genuine and toothy as his eyes narrow at your teasing. “One, simple fucking text. Whatever you want, to whoever you want.”

Ben holds your grin with his glower before glancing back at the phone. “Whatever I want?”

“That’s what I said. I can help if you ask very nicely.”

Ben looks back at you, his expression remarkably determined. “I can do it my fucking self. Shut up and eat your breakfast.” 

Only as Ben’s pushing the food closer towards you—attention now entirely focused on the phone—do you see it. He’s put yogurt on a plate, something that he’s done several times before and seems to have no interest in stopping, no matter how many times you tell him it’s just plain weird. There’s a slight improvement in that he has made some sort of attempt to separate the yogurt from the toast, laying the spoon between them in an attempted barrier. The result is almost nothing, if anything now you just have to deal with a yogurt-covered spoon, but it’s still confusingly heart-warming. The gentle feeling that grows in your chest is only spurred on by glancing at Ben’s plate—hardly touched and forgotten in front of him—and seeing that he has just a little less yogurt than you and that there’s no jam on his toast.

“Ben?” you ask slowly, and he grunts in a signal to keep talking. “Where’s your jam?”

“What the fuck are you talking about. Is this slang I’m supposed to learn, because I’d rather you shove a fucking bomb up my ass-“

“It’s not slang, dummy. Your literal jam. That you always put on your toast. Where is it?”

“We ran out.” 

You stare at your own toast, almost drowning in red jam. “And the yogurt?” 

“What about the yogurt?”

“You barely have any.”

He’s not looking up as he responds, “Out of that shit as well.” 

You blink at him. “We got groceries yesterday.” 

“It’s not my goddamn fault Mallory’s a terrible fucking shopper-“ 

“No, I don’t care about that. I can just text her later. Why’d you give me all the stuff?”

“You need to eat.” Ben’s answer is flat and bored.

“So do you. You have the metabolism of a hummingbird-“ 

That makes him look up. “A hummingbird?”

“They have famously high metabolism, they have to eat two times their body weight daily. But that’s not the point-“

“Why do you know that?” He sounds bemused, frowning at you.

You give a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, why does anyone know anything. Ben, you need to eat as-“

“You know so much weird shit.” You can’t read his tone, and have to fight the urge to touch him and find out if he’s annoyed or bored or amused-

Shaking your head, you manage to move on. “You’re trying to distract me.” 

“Maybe.” Ben’s shoulder nudges yours. “But it’s not my fault it’s real fucking easy to do it.” 

You’re gaping at him a little—he’s looking at the phone again with a thin-lipped frown of concentration—because all you felt when your shoulders connected, arms brushing, was simple affection. Pure and sitting in his chest and head like air. It’s making the small voice reminding you not to try and make this go further harder to hear, making you need to know more. You’re about to say something, push him for what he meant by his comment, why he put the extra food on your plate, maybe circle back to the question pounding in your head of why are you okay with just this. I’m glad you are, I’m unspeakably grateful, but why. You shouldn’t be. Fucking hell, Ben, I’m barely okay with this. I haven’t told you why I need this, not really, so why in living hell are you happy with just this?

But your phone buzzes before you can. 

Ben looks up at you with a pleased, cocky smirk. “Check your phone, Sunshine.” 

You pick it up off the table—angling the screen away from Ben so he can’t see his contact name—and glance up at his straight, self-satisfied posture and smug face before you read his text. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You look hot when your being annoying 

You read it a few times before you look up at him. “You used the wrong you’re. It should have an apostrophe, it’s a contraction.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What am I supposed to say?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Thank you?” 

“Or that I’m hot. Return the fucking compliment. I worked hard on it, and texting is fucking stupid.” 

You roll your eyes. “Your compliment sounds like you're a teenager who just found out his dick wasn’t just for pissing.”

Ben frowns, picking up his phone again. You watch him type at little faster this time, still one finger at a time but with an almost zealous focus. Your phone buzzes again, and he looks up at you with an intense gaze and speaks with sharp words. “Read that one.”

You sigh, but do. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You are so beautiful that if I got to fuck you a thousand times it would only make you more beautiful so I’d keep fucking you forever 

You stare at it for a second, because it’s so shockingly sweet and graphic it’s making your body incredibly confused. Half of you is moved, and wants to kiss him gently and smile at him until he says something like that again. The other half want him to fuck you right here, then on the floor, then in the hallway, then on the stairs, and on and on until you’ve covered the whole house.

“Better?” He grunts, and you look up at him with a heated face.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” You give a dry laugh. “And here I thought I wasn’t your type.”

That makes him scowl, and his voice is an annoyed grumble. “What made you fucking think that.”

“For one, all my teeth are real and I can walk without a cane.”

Ben’s face becomes a little lighter. “I fuck one old lady in front of Butcher and Cocksucker and all you dumbass idiot pussies think I only fuck old ladies.” 

“No, I just think it’s hilarious.”

“Well, you’re not a fucking idiot,” He mutters, and your smile must look downright insane.

“And your compliment game is getting better by the second,” you bite into your toast, speaking through crumbs. “Am I allowed to teach you about internet slang? Or are you going to shove a bomb up your ass.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you fucking want, Sunshine,” Ben shrugs.

“So that’s a yes?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

You roll your eyes. “Ben,” you exaggerate his name in your drawl, leaning forward as you swallow. “If I were to try and teach you about the internet, would you listen to me or be a huge fucking baby about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I am not a fucking baby-“ 

“I said huge fucking baby.” 

“Shut the fuck up. And you couldn’t make me learn about internet slang if you cut off my dick,” Ben winks. “Which, as I’ve been damn telling you, would hurt you more than me.”

“I don’t think you know how pain works,” you mutter, taking another bite. 

“My point still fucking stands.” 

You examine Ben carefully. “What if I asked nicely? Would you listen then?” 

“No.” 

“What if I said please.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Why not?” You pout. “What if I said it’s important to me?” 

Ben snorts. “This isn’t fucking important to you.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Ben leans forward until he’s only a breath away. “You just want to try and teach me shit. Even though it never fucking works out for you.” 

“Really?” You hum. “Because you just sent me a text on a phone, Pretty Boy. Could you do that in December?” 

“You sure think mighty high of yourself, Sunshine. I could’ve figured it out my goddamn self.” 

“I think highly of myself,” you smile, moving close enough that your lips are brushing Ben’s but never fully touching. “Because I’m right.” 

Ben grunts, staring at your mouth like he can will it to be closer. “Brat.” 

You don’t miss a beat. “Cunt. You know, I wouldn’t just teach you about slang. I could show you where to find the porn.”

“I thought that wasn’t your fucking job?” 

“It isn’t,” Neither of you will close that final gap. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat from Ben’s body, hear his breathing turn heavy. “But I can see a few ways in which it could benefit me.”

Ben’s eyes shoot to yours, and his voice is a growl. “Like what.” 

“I could tell you, or just show you,” you twist your face in mock concern. “But that would be teaching you and that never works out for me-“ 

You know you’ve won—the game you’d fallen into and the argument—because Ben kisses you. Rough and consuming, pushing his mouth to yours with a feral sound and holding your jaw with a firm hand. You let him pull you closer, relaxing into his touch and taste and smell and everything. It’s all just Ben. Picking you up with one arm, standing without ever parting from you, letting your hands scratch at his back and neck as he only kisses you more. You might be grinding against him because he groans, and his grip starts to crush you into his body. You whimper when he bounces you further up his body, making you angle your head down to stay connected to his mouth. To keep that hunger eating you in the best possible way. To keep the roar in your heart climbing up into your head and making everything so simply Ben. Coffee and salt and strawberries and Ben. 

He pulls back so abruptly you whine, and scans your face with narrow eyes. “We’re going to try something.” 

“How specific,” your grumble is breathless, but your glare at least feels strong. “Are you going to tell me what that means?” 

“If you would be patient for once in your damn life, I’d have told you already.”

“Fuck yo-“ His splits into a wide grin, and you know you didn’t cut yourself off in time.

“That’s actually a part of this, Sunshine.” Ben starts to walk out of the kitchen, still holding you slightly above him. “Aren’t you just a fucking genius.”

You frown at him. “I thought you were okay without-“ 

“I told you to stop fucking asking that,” Ben snaps, squeezing his grip around your waist and on your thighs. You can feel the resolved stone feeling running around you with that same bitterness from before. “You told me you trust me, prove it. Stop asking stupid questions about if I’m okay with this when I obviously fucking am.” He stops in the middle of the dining room. “Understood?” 

“Understood,” you mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes before kissing you again. This one is quick, and even though it only lasts a second you’re still burning when he pulls away. 

“Try again, like you actually fucking mean it this time.” 

Even as you wrinkle your nose at him, your voice becomes louder and you believe you more. “Understood.” 

“Good,” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let you go. “We’re going to do a new reward system.” 

You blink at him—your head still in a little of a daze—unsure if you heard correctly. “What?” 

“No more favors. You keep using them for stupid shit like TV and making me read.” Ben’s face scrunches in disgust at the very memory of books. “This will be more effective anyway.” 

“You still haven’t told me what this is. It might be dogshit. It might get you burnt a lot today.” Even as you snark at him, you have a feeling you know exactly what he’s talking about. And you will never tell him that he’s right. If this is going where you think it’s going, it will definitely be effective. 

“It’s not,” Ben lowers you down his body, not letting go until your feet are steady on the ground. “And I’m not too worried about burns. We’re not working on that today.” 

That catches you off guard. “We’re not?” 

“Nope,” Ben leans down to your eye level with a wide, cocky smile. “You’re going to sing, whatever the hell you want, and you’re going to control it.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” Ben’s tone is firm. “You will. Even if it takes us a hundred goddamn years, you will.”

You want to argue. You might just literally not be able to control it. That might simply be a part of the power. But Ben also said a hundred years. A hundred years that you would get to have him. So you can only mumble a protest of, “I really can’t control it now. I might, uh, make stuff happen you don’t want to see.”

“What could I possibly not want to see,” Ben says, giving you an incredulous look. “Sex? Death? Torture? Which of those do you think would make me gasp like a pussy grasping their fucking Sunday pearls.” 

“That’s not what I meant, you dick. It might be emotional. More than just lights and dancing. Intim-“ You stumble over yourself, because that word might be too much. “It might just be parts of me you don’t want to see.” 

“I think I’ll fucking manage,” Ben drawls, and you sigh. 

“Benjamin-“ 

“Don’t Benjamin me,” Ben snaps your name. “There’s not a thing you could show me that would make me walk away now. You burn, I burn. Not controlling this is something that makes you more afraid Homelander.” 

Not a question, but you nod nervously. “I guess, yeah.” 

“Then we’re going to make it better.” Ben takes a large step back, and you tilt your head at him. 

“You still haven’t actually told me what the new reward system is.” 

He winks, “do one thing on purpose, and I’ll let you teach me two things about my phone.”

“You’ll let me?” You scoff. “That feels like it’s more beneficial to you than me.” 

“Well, I’ll also suck on your beautiful fucking face until you’re begging me to fuck you. And then I won’t, because I’m a gentleman. And you wouldn’t be of sound mind.” 

“Cunt.” You grumble, and he just shrugs with a smirk. 

“Brat.” 

“How will you know I did something on purpose?” You cross your arms, wrinkling your nose at him. “I could just lie.” 

“What a good fucking point,” Ben says your name, grin never dropping. “This is why you’re the brains.” 

“I thought I was the beauty. You were very bitchy about that.” 

“You’re all three, and I’m the pimp. Tell me what you’re going to be trying to make happen.”

You scowl. “I don’t fucking know, I didn’t have time to prepare an idea-“ 

“It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just whatever pops into your damn head.”

“But-“ 

“We can fight about this all fucking day,” Ben shrugs. “Or you can say what you’re thinking in three, two-“ 

“Strawberries!” You blurt, glaring at him. “Fucking strawberries.” 

His brows raise. “Strawberries?” 

“You said whatever pops into my head. I’m making a grocery list, fucking sue me.”

“You think you can make strawberries work?” Ben watches you, trying to pick you apart with slow words and a stupidly handsome face. 

“No. Because this won’t work.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Can you fucking try to make it work?” 

“Maybe.”

“Then get a move on.” 

You cross your arms. “What the hell am I supposed to sing?” 

“Whatever the hell you want,” he grins. “But could you let me know ahead of time if my clone will be joining us?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, and Ben laughs, leaning back against the wall. “Are you just going to watch me?” 

Ben shrugs, still smiling widely at you. You told me to shut up. Deal with the consequences, Sunshine.

You stick your tongue out at him, flipping him off at the same time, and he just snorts. 

It takes you a full minute to choose a song. Can’t do a sex song, can’t do a romance song, can’t do any that opens up the chance of Fake Ben showing up again. Not when Real Ben is watching you on the other side of the room and might explode if his ego gets any bigger. Can’t do a song about pain or abuse, can’t do Smash Mouth, can’t do anything that makes you think of Homelander. You could do a recession-type pop song, but that just feels weird.

There’s—as there always is—an easy and obvious solution. Moon River. You know, at least in theory, what will happen. Ben knows the song, knows about what it means to you. Moon River, plain and simple. 

You don’t bother trying to look at Ben when you start. You have no interest in seeing him, seeing his reaction or demeanor as you do this. So you chose a scorch mark on the wall, glue your eyes to it, and sing. Quietly at first, but you find a rhythm and it builds until your voice feels clear and strong. The instrumentals kick in faster this time, smooth guitar and strings and cymbals. The changes to the world are a little different this go, however. You’re not in your childhood bedroom, but a distorted version of the safe house bedroom. The horse paintings are blurred, and it’s not clean anymore—small signs of both you and Ben scattered across the area in shirts and towels, a book on your nightstand and a ben’s supe suit across the bed—but it feels more comfortable. More natural. The sky does open again, flooding the area with light from stars that are a little closer than they should be, and you can feel a warm breeze moving in from above. You can smell pine trees and rain and coffee and the ocean and strawberries- 

Strawberries. The song is almost over and you haven’t even tried to make strawberries appear. You could write off the smell as your attempt, Ben doesn’t know how this works and you could likely sell it, but you want to win. You don’t want to trick him and come out on top. You want to win and fucking earn it.

Which is really annoying. Cheating is easier.

You try to focus. Strawberries. Maybe a field of them, maybe just a large vine of their flowers that climbs up the wall. Anywhere they want to be, as long as there’s strawberries. But no matter how hard you think strawberries. All across the room, or on the floor, or sprouting out of your face, strawberries, nothing happens.

The song draws to a close, and the world fades back into you and Ben in the dining room.

“It didn’t work,” you say flatly.

“Go again,” Ben pushes off the wall, walking to sit in one of the less-than sturdy chairs in the corner of the room. “We’ve got all fucking day.” 

You sigh. “It’s only 10:30.” 

“And we’ll be here until you get this.” 

“You’re a fucking cunt.” 

“You love it, brat. Go again.” 

You scoff, even as your heart becomes a little faster in your chest, and start the song over. This time, you glare at Ben the whole way, and nothing happens. 

“Again.” 

It takes seven hours. You don’t bother changing the song, half because you’re stubborn and half because it’s established a clean pattern of events. Bedroom, instruments, sky, wind, comfort. Over and over and over, slowly becoming more solid, the images and sensations in less of a haze. It’s not purposeful, so you haven’t won, but the practice is—annoyingly—making you stronger. Ben notices, you can tell by his stupidly pleased smirk, but doesn’t say anything. Around 1, he leaves the room with only a short order for you to keep going and returns with two bagels. He passes one to you wordlessly, and when you drop to the floor—eating with your legs crossed beneath you—Ben scoffs. But he also lowers himself to your side, inhaling his bagel with his knee pressed against yours and a hand on your thigh. You can feel that content, smooth and effortless in Ben’s chest. Flowing in time with that stone resolve wrapping around you, around him. Neither of you speak—you don’t really feel like you need to—and when you finish your bagels within seconds of each other, Ben squeezes his hand once before standing and returning to his chair.

It’s 5:30 when it happens. You’ve been at this all day, you’re tired, but you kept going and going and now, when your illusions have become a clear and perfect replica of the world, it happens. A single strawberry flower, sprouting in a glowing rainbow mist on the mattress. You can hear Ben’s chair squeak when he sees it, even if the sound only echoes distantly over your orchestra, and you almost stutter to halt in shock. But when you push forwards—voice becoming a little frantic, a little off-pitched—the plant grows. Overtaking the bed, covering the sheets and pillows until it’s all green leaves and blooming red fruit.

When the song finds its natural conclusion, you look over at Ben with wide-eyes. He’s staring at where the bed was, now dissipated into a colorful mist through the dining room. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” His voice is gruff, looking at you with an intense, unblinking stare.

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened-“ 

“Can you do it again?” 

“I don’t know, Ben.” You rub your face, your eyes becoming heavy. “I’m tired-“ 

He stands so suddenly it almost makes you start. Without warning Ben crosses the room, picks you up, and carries you out of the dining room.

“What are you-“

Ben cuts off your mumbled protest. “You look like shit.” 

“Rude,” you grumble, shoving his chest. “You’re the asshole who made me work all day.” 

“And I’d fucking do it again,” Ben holds you a little tighter as you climb the stairs. “You got stronger. You controlled it. And now you’re going to take a shower, because you look like shit.” 

“Again, that’s rude-“ 

Ben kisses your nose, pushing the door to your room open with his foot. “Beautiful shit. But shit.” 

“You’re real lucky I don’t kick your ass, Pretty Boy.” You huff, and Ben chuckles against you. 

“I don’t think you’ve got the energy to kick anyone’s ass right now,” Ben drawls your name as he sets you down on the mattress. 

“And whose fault is that?” 

Ben ignores you. “Go shower, Sunshine. I’ll bring up dinner, and then you’re going the hell to bed.”

“You’re a dick, Benjamin!” Your voice raises to a half-hearted shout as he leaves the room, and you can hear the amusement in his voice when he shouts back.

“Fucking shower!” 

You roll your eyes—sticking your tongue out at the empty hallway—but stand and walk to the bathroom. Not because Ben told you, but because you’re sweaty and gross and somehow sore despite only standing. It’s a tight feeling running along your muscles, stronger under your arms and circling your forehead, aching behind your knees. You take your time with the shower, letting steam fill the room and simply standing in the hot, gentle fall of the water until you hear Ben’s loud steps re-enter the room.

When you leave the bathroom, changed into a sleep shirt and your hair wrapped in a towel, Ben’s standing tall and rigid in the middle of the room. There’s a plate of something that might be spaghetti in one hand, and your phone in the other. 

“You got a text from Hughie,” he grunts, passing you both the plate and the phone. 

“Oh, what did he-“ you stop yourself, looking up at Ben with a gaping smile. “Did you just say Hughie?” 

“Shut up.” 

“No, no. You said Hughie. You’ve never called him Hughie.” 

“Shut up,” Ben mutters, stomping past you to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.” 

You set the plate down on the dresser, spinning to grab his arm. He stops, turning to look at you with a glare, and you push through the haze of his care and hunger and annoyance and there’s that strange tightness again- “Are you okay?” 

Ben scoffs. “I’m fucking fine. I’m not a weak-“ 

“Pussy, I know. You’re being grumpy again.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“Uh huh,” you raise your brows at him, letting disbelief coat your voice and cover your face. “Why’d you call Hughie his name?” 

“Am I not allowed to call people their damn names?”

“Not when you’ve only called them Cocksucker before.” 

Ben yanks his arm from you, taking a long, labored breath before grumbling, “That kid is the only one of those pussies who seems to genuinely mean it when he says shit. I can respect that.” He walks into the bathroom, glancing back at you once. “Read his fucking text.”

You stare at the door for a second after it closes before picking up the fork Ben had stuck into the spaghetti, taking a large bite as you open your phone. 

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

Are you okay? Just wanted to check after all the Tek Knight shit.

I’m really sorry about that. I should’ve pushed Butcher.

Kimiko wants to know too, but she threw her phone at The Deep during a fight and it broke. 

You smile softly at the screen. 

I’m good. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow for Neuman.

Tell Kimiko I hope she kicked The Deep’s ass. 

“Ben!” you call, knocking on the door. “The shower’s not on, I know you can hear me!”

“What?!” He snaps, opening the door just enough for you to see his bare chest. 

“Um,” you swallow, trying not to look further down. “Do you want ice cream?” 

He scans your face. “Vanilla?” 

“Sure, old man,” you grin, and Ben scowls. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

He starts to close the door, but you stick your arm forward to stop him. “Thank you.” 

“You fucking volunteered to get me the ice cream, I don’t have thank you-“ 

“No, you dumbass.” You whack what you can reach of his shoulder. Mistake, because powerful heat and desire and something loud that makes everything sharp pieces through you. “I’m saying thank you.” 

He frowns, leaning forward a little. It takes active effort not to drop your gaze. “For what.” 

“The food. Bringing my phone up,” you give him a teasing grin. “Sitting with me tomorrow for internet lessons.” 

Ben snorts, opening the door to stand fully before you. By some sort of miracle, his pants are still on. He lets go of the door for a second, cupping your face in his hands and he examines your face. “Fucking brat,” he mutters, and you scoff. 

“I’m starting to you’ve forgotten my name-“

He all but picks you up off the ground, and this time he’s gentle. Every part of this kiss is soft, from his mouth to his hold on you. It’s long and careful and so tender it might break you. When he pulls back, he draws circles along your cheeks, smirking down at you. 

“Two things,” he says your name in that low, deep way that makes everything spin a little. “You get to teach me two things. If you try to pull three on me, the sucking face is off the table.”

He retreats back into the bathroom, closing the door, and you’re left dumbfounded in the bedroom, swaying slightly to nothing at all.

You go down stairs after inhaling your spaghetti, returning with two bowls of ice cream. You sit on the bed as you eat your small helping, having put practically the remainder of the pint in Ben’s bowl, which is waiting for him on the dresser. Taking the infinite amount of time provided by Ben’s shower, you run over the day in your head, trying to pin-point what had changed. How you had controlled it. Any small shift in the late afternoon that you could use. Implement further. But it only devolved into you playing Ben’s words and actions on loop in your head. How easy he was touching you, like it was the most absurdly natural thing for him in the world. How quickly he had, you had, fallen into the habit of it. Because it was natural. It was easy and everything, and you’d expected it to feel different. To be tense, or awkward, a strange dance you didn’t know how to navigate.

But it felt the same. Your thirst was stronger, trying to take root in your brain and make you pull Ben into you, but everything else felt the same. 

And that was terrifying. 

You hear the shower turn off, a chew at your tongue as you stare at the door. The moment it opens, Ben walking through with wet hair falling across his eyes and a bare chest, you speak. Because if you don’t blurt out your words now, you’d just get lost in him and his stupid face and stupid body and he smells so good- 

“What if I fucked a dog?” 

Ben stops in the middle of the room, staring at you in confusion. “What the actual fucking hell are you talking about.” 

“You said there wasn’t a thing that could make you walk away. What if I fucked a dog?” 

“Did you fuck a dog?” 

“No, that’s just an example.” 

“Why the hell is that your example?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head nervously. “That’s not the point. If I did fuck a dog, would you that make you walk away?” 

He snorts, picking his ice cream. “Are you going to fuck a dog?” 

“No, but that’s not the point-“ 

Ben says your name, bumping your thigh with his as he sits at your side. “If you fucked a dog I would have a fuck ton of questions. But I wouldn’t walk away.” 

“Really?” 

“I might check you into an asylum,” he shrugs, taking a large bite of ice cream. “But I’d make sure it’s one that offers conjugal visits.” 

You give a flat look. “I would not attend conjugal visits with the man who checked me into an asylum.” 

“You’re the one who fucked a dog in this scenario,” he speaks through his mouthful, and a little ice cream dribbles onto his beard. “I’m just being a responsible, upstanding citizen.” 

That makes you laugh. “Oh, fuck off. You’ve never been an upstanding citizen in your life.” 

“I work for the CIA, Sunshine.” Ben says smugly. “Not much more fucking upstanding than that.” 

“We both work for the CIA,” you try not to stare at where drops of ice cream are smeared on his face. You want to lick them off, but you are also not moving first. “And, as I’ve told you before, we don’t actually work for the CIA. We don’t get paid.” 

“We need to fucking talk to Mallory about that,” Ben grunts. “We’re carrying her whole pussy fucking team on our backs. We deserve to be paid.” 

“What part of legally dead still isn’t getting through to you?” 

“The part that means we don’t get paid. It’s fucking exploitation.” 

You snort. “Yeah, you’re really suffering in this arrangement. All you get is a free phone, free internet, free food, and a free house.” 

“And you,” he winks. “Free you.” 

That makes your whole body loose and hot. “Shut up.” 

“Are you going to show me porn tomorrow?” He muses, ignoring you. “I’ve well fucking earned it.” 

“Fuck you.” 

This time it’s purposeful. This time you can’t stop staring at Ben’s full lips, covered in vanilla, or stop leaning into his study, warm body. This time you’re setting him up, dangling the bait in front of him, daring him to take it. 

He does. 

Ben tugs you forward until you’re tucked right at your side, his arm around your shoulders so his hand can tilt your mouth up to his. You don’t hesitate to lick his lips when they find yours, taking the sweetness of the sugar combined with just him onto your tongue. Saltier, stronger, better than anything you’ve ever tasted before. He bites your tongue lightly when you do it again, pushing back with his own until you whimper, your hand darting to his face to try and get more. You’re vaguely aware of Ben setting the ice cream to the side, and suddenly he’s pulling you down, then over his chest once he’s flat on his back. You slide one hand into his hair, letting your weight rest entirely against him and grinding down on his abdomen until he groans your name. His hand grip your hips, stilling you completely, tugging you down just enough that you can feel him hard, prodding into your thigh. 

Ben looks down at you, eyes hooded, voice gravelly. “If you don’t want more right fucking now, you need to stop that.” 

Nothing is more difficult than nodding, trying to get a hold of your body and not just letting yourself crash forwards. Letting Ben take everything. “Sorry-“ 

“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, moving one hand up your back until it’s holding the back of your head, running fingers through your hair. “Never apologize to me.” 

You smile at him, toothy and careless. “Even if I fuck a dog?” 

He snorts. “Way to ruin the fucking mood.” 

“It’s a talent.” 

Ben lowers your head onto his chest in a slow movement, and you don’t stop him. When he speaks, you can feel his voice everywhere. “I think it’s bedtime for you, beautiful.” 

“Just because I ruined the mood?” You mumble a protest, but he’s warm and secure around you. Making you sleepy. 

“Because you’re actively fighting to stay the hell awake. Sleep.” 

You try to keep arguing, but all that comes out is an incoherent hum. This might become a problem, how if Ben just kisses you and holds you, your body will listen to him more than it ever listens to you. But it doesn’t feel like one now. It just feels safe, surrounded by the smell of pine and still tasting vanilla.

Just before your eyes close you feel Ben press one last kiss to the top of your head, and that’s all it takes for sleep to find you. 

You’re on the floor of the dining room, Ben above you, your hands scratch his back as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Ready for more, Sunshine?” His voice rolls through your whole body, and you nod almost manically. 

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

He pulls back, watching you lust-blown eyes, and everything is life and green and good and Ben. “Beg.” 

“You dick-“ 

He leans down so his nose is bumping yours. “Convince me you want everything. Beg.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t. Try again.” 

Dignity doesn’t really feel important right now. Not when you want everything. Not when Ben is offering. Offering everything. “Please. I want this. I’ve wanted this. Just fuck me, you fucking cunt.” 

He chuckles, kissing around your mouth. “That’s not very nice.” 

“Please fuck me. I want you, Benjamin, you insufferable asshole. I want you, I need you, I-“ 

That’s all it takes. He’s falling back onto you, into you, almost eating you because he’s everything and why did you even bother trying to fight that. Who cares if you can’t go back. Why would you even want to? You just want him, and now you have him, and he has you. Right now he has you, and maybe he wants to keep you the same way you want to keep him. It’s just you and Ben, and nothing else is real except you and Ben. 

You’re woken suddenly by Ben bucking up into you. When you blink away the fog of sleep from your eyes, he’s fast asleep, still holding you with his head pressed back into the pillow. You’d somehow moved up his body in the night, finding your head on Ben’s shoulder, your face pressed into his neck. 

He’s not having a nightmare. There’s no building light or heat in his chest, no pain or distress moving from his body to yours. Only hunger. Vast and aching hunger that moves between your legs. A deep, growling sound leaves Ben’s mouth, paired with another rough jerk into the air and his hand fisting into the ends of your hair. Then he moans, right into your ear, and any lingering drowsiness is burned out of your body. Because that moan was long and borderline incoherent, but it sounded like a word. Like your name. And this time when he pushes his groin into the air you can feel him, long and hard, poking against the lowest curve of your ass. 

Someone is out to get you. Some hidden facet of the universe has an agenda against you, because Ben is having a sex dream and moaning—as far as you can tell—your name. Because his sex dream just woke you up from your sex dream. About him. And you’re still horny and wet and thirsty and he’s hungry and his cock is only inches from where your desire for him is becoming painful. And to top it all off, Ben’s holding you against his body with such a confusing combination of reverence and strength that not a single chance you can wiggle away without waking him. 

And if you wake him, there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from giving every single part of yourself to him. So you have to ride it out, unable to fall back asleep, as Ben continues to fuck the air against you. Making the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever heard, sounds that echo through your body from where you’ve pressed your face into his neck, and leave imprints in your gut and heart and head. This qualifies as torture, you decide, because right now if Ben asked you any question, you’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear. You’d do whatever he wanted you to do. Anything to make him give you relief. Anything to turn this into something you don’t have to endure, your brain running wild with fantasies of giving Ben everything and him offering you even half as much. 

You’re dizzy with lust and need—your thirst fed by Ben’s unyielding hunger—when he finally makes the best sound you’ve heard in your life and satisfaction crashes through your body like a wave. Ben’s grip on you loosens, and you frantically roll off of him, climbing out of bed and moving to the bathroom on long but quiet steps. Locking the door, you fall to the floor and shove one hand into your shorts as the other raises to your mouth, biting down to stifle your moans and breaths of Ben’s name. Your back presses to the wall—unable to care as the fire starts to seep out of your skin—fingers moving fast against your clit because there’s not time for anything else. Not when you feel like you’re about to explode, and the aftermath of Ben’s own desire is still planted in your body. 

You double over when you cum, knees shooting up to your chest as you stare at the floor, eyes wide and heart racing. When your basic cognitive functions return—the chorus of just Ben fading into the back of your head and the smoke clearing the room—you realize that’s never happened before. You’ve never felt someone’s orgasm like you’d feel anger or joy or fear. To be fair, you hadn’t been with anyone since the empathy had become a part of you. Except Homelander, and that didn’t count. 

Some evil, loathsome part of you still goes there though. Back to the lab, where Homelander would- 

You can’t think about it. But he’d done it. After the empathy. And you hadn’t felt it. 

You’d also never felt pain from someone. Not like when you touched Ben in a nightmare. But Ben’s emotions were weird. You couldn’t decipher them on a normal day. This probably wasn’t something to note or worry about. Not worth dwelling on at all, not when you were already tearing yourself apart trying to figure out what the massively repressed, ancient man-child in the other room wanted from you. What you could afford to give to the impossible, frustrating, perfect man you- 

It wasn’t something to worry about. 

Collecting yourself off the floor, you realized you couldn’t go back to bed. You were wide awake, and even if you weren’t Ben had definitely stained the sheets, enough that he’d notice when he woke up. Guilt started to stab into you, because Ben might not have meant you to be there. That was private, his, and you’d just jerked off to it. You’d tell him. You had to tell him. But not right now. When he woke up.

So you move silently back to the bedroom, grabbing your phone before creeping into the hall and descending into the living room. You fall onto the couch, reading the text from MM, telling you that they’ll be at the safe house around noon. You give it a little thumbs up, and try to distract yourself from how remarkably horny you still are.

It’s another hour and half before Ben wakes up and walks down the stairs, his hair messy and eyes blurry as he squints at you. 

“How long have you been up?” Ben’s voice is hoarse, and he’s not moving to the couch, standing rigid at the foot of the steps. 

You shrug, playing it off in the way you’d been rehearsing over and over. “A few hours.” 

“What woke you up?” He’s still watching you intently, looking slightly more awake.

“Um,” you can’t lie. It feels wrong to lie. You couldn’t have moved or stopped it, but he needs to know you had been there. “You?”

“Me?” 

“You had a, uh, a wet dream? And weren’t letting me go, and I would've tried to go, because you were asleep, but you’re really strong and weren’t letting me go. I’m-” 

“Don’t say sorry.” Ben grunts, and finally walks to sit beside you. “And I don’t give a shit. It was about you anyway.”

“Oh.” You hadn't expected him to just say that, but you probably should’ve. “That’s doesn’t mean I get to just stay though-”

“Maybe not. But you didn’t chose to, and I don’t give a shit.” Ben leans back into the couch. “I’d fucking tell you if I did. And it sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m still sor-”

Ben says your name firmly. “You told me. That’s what fucking matters. No lies.”

You nod slowly. “No lies.”

“You done freaking out?”

“I wasn’t freaking out-”

“I get why you were, with the shit that happened to you.” Ben shrugs. “But if I was worried about you seeing that I’d sleep in my old room.” Suddenly his eyes narrow at you. “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

You answer fast. “No, I uh,” you shake your head. “No.”

“If it did, you need to fucking tell me. I know you don’t want more-”

“I didn’t mind,” you mumble. “Really. Promise. And it’s more complicated than not wanting more. I kind of, um.” No lies. “I liked it.”

His eyes flash. “Liked it?”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t fucking apologize.” Ben looks you up and down. “What did you like?”

“All of it.”

“How much.”

Stupid fucking handsome man and his deep voice that makes you answer. “A lot. I um, took care of myself?”

His voice is somehow deeper, and he won’t look away from you. “Took care of yourself?”

“In the bathroom-”

“Did you cum?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Ben grins, and you think he’s going to keep pushing. “I changed the sheets.” 

“Oh?” You feel a little lighter—it’s a little scary how easy this all is, how fast you feel better—and your tone becomes teasing. “Without me asking? Who even are you?”

“Shut up. I’m not making you change my cum sheets.” 

You poke Ben’s side with your foot, grinning and the disgruntled sound that escapes him. “You kiss a man a few times and suddenly he’s doing chores without being a bitch.” 

Ben catches your foot, yanking you forward until your legs are across his, leaning down until his smirk is hovering above your slack jaw. “You didn’t kiss me just a few times. You just told me you liked me dreaming about you. And as far as I recall, I owe you one more. But a pussy fucking bitch wouldn’t give you what you want, Sunshine, would he?” When you don’t respond, just staring at him in some sort of horny shock, Ben leans just slightly forward. “Would he?” 

“Cun-“ 

Ben catches your words with his mouth, and you gain just enough control to snap at his tongue between your teeth. Not biting it off, but drawing enough blood that the metallic taste overtakes the taste of Ben. He pulls back with a hiss, and you cross your arms across your chest. 

“I told you I’d do that, Pretty Boy.” You taunt. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, but you can feel his sharp amusement, and his hand has dropped to hold your thigh over his legs. Tracing small patterns on your bare skin. “You’re a piece of fucking work,” he says your name in something that sounds like awe, and something is leaving a mark inside you, on your ribs. 

“Would you have me any other way?” He snorts. “Fucking hell, no.” 

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and if the world ended right now you wouldn’t mind. Not when this is everything. “Good.” You lean back into the armrest of the couch, your eyes never leaving Ben’s. “Ready for your lesson?” 

“Right now?” Ben raises his brow at you. “It’s 8 in the goddamn morning.”

“And we have a long, busy day of internet lessons and hitting Victoria Neuman with your special sauce ahead of us. Might as well get started now.”

Ben glares at you. “Don’t call it special sauce."

“Hm,” you pause in mock thought. “No.”

“Brat.”

You knee his chest lightly. “Go get your phone, Benjamin.”

With a series of low grumbles and a strong pout on his face, Ben removes your legs from against him and stands, disappearing back up the stairs. You hum to yourself, foot tapping as you wait for his return, and don’t even realize what you’re doing until Ben’s voice sounds behind you. 

“Why does the whole room smell like vanilla.” 

You feel the flush of your face, freezing as you tip your head back to meet Ben’s eyes. “I dunno.” 

“Did you leave the ice cream out?” He walks back to his seat, glaring at your legs pointedly until you press them to your chest. “Because I could smell it upstairs as well.” 

You give an over exaggerated sniff. “Well, it’s gone now.” 

“No it’s-“ Ben pauses, scanning your body and face as his nose twitches. “You were fucking singing.” 

“Maybe,” you mumble, hugging your knees. “Shut up. Did you get your phone?” 

Ben scoffs, but shakes his hand, displaying the phone. “Your faith in me is astounding,” he grumbles your name, and you sit up a little with your shrug. 

“I know you’re being a dick, but yeah, it is.” You lean against your bent legs. “Open the phone.” 

He starts to enter the passcode, but looks up at you with a frown. “Are you going to stay over there?” 

“Um,” you blink at him, and shake your head slightly. “No?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just waiting expectantly for you to scoot over to him. Only once you do—thoroughly invading Ben’s space as he pulls your legs back up, making you half on his lap and half pressed into his side—does his attention return to the phone. When he opens it—after three tries, but who’s counting—Ben looks at you with a cocky grin. “That it?” 

“Nope,” you lean over him, taking the phone from his hand. “We’re going to learn about cameras.” 

“I fucking know about cameras-“ 

“Well, you clearly don’t, because you looked like you were going to have an aneurysm about your lock screen yesterday.” You swipe through the phone, keeping it in Ben’s view, and find the camera app. “That,” you point to the screen, finger hovering over the small, gray button. “Is the camera.” 

“That’s not a fucking camera,” he snorts. “That’s a button.” 

You roll your eyes. “And what, Benjamin, do you think the button does?” 

He scowls. “Shut up.” 

“Answer my question.” 

“Camera.” Ben’s answer is through gritted teeth, but—as far as you can tell from where you’re touching him—his annoyance is more for show than anything else. So you keep going, holding the phone a little higher up. 

“Press it,” you prompt him, shaking the phone slightly. 

Ben does so, his aggressive tap of the screen pushing your hand back slightly. The camera opens up, flipped to the self-view, and Ben starts backwards. “Why the fuck is it doing that.”

“It’s the front view.” 

“Why in living Christ would you need a front-view.” 

“For selfies.” 

“Selfies?” 

“Photos of one’s self,” you explain, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. “It’s pretty self-descriptive.” 

“Why would you need that.” 

You sigh. “It’s not something you need to do. Most of this isn’t going to be stuff you need to do. It’s for fun.” 

“For fun,” Ben repeats slowly, still sounding like he doesn’t believe you. 

“Yep. And I think you’d like selfies. You get to pose, and stare at yourself. It’s right in your wheelhouse, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffs. “What would I do with them?” 

“Whatever you want,” you shrug. “Jerk off to them, print them out to hang around the house, post them on social media-“ 

“Social media?” 

“I am not explaining social media to you today,” you say flatly. “Cameras are already going to be a lot.” 

“It looks pretty fucking simple from here,” Ben grumbles, pulling the phone from your hand. “That big white button takes the photo, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah,” you try to push down a giggle as he presses the button repeatedly, taking a large amount of selfies from a low angle. He’ll still probably look hot in all of them, because he’s Ben and life is unfair, but that doesn’t make it less funny. “But there’s more to it.” 

He stops, giving you a frown. “What the hell do you mean more.” 

“Turn the camera.” 

Slowly, Ben angles the phone so you’re looking at your reflection on the display. 

“No,” you reach up, returning the screen to face him. “Turn the camera. It can switch between the front camera and the back camera,” you tap each one in turn for emphasis. “So switch them.”

He does. After almost eight minutes of swearing under his breath—and very much not under his breath—Ben finds the right button and flips the camera around. From there you make him stand, take several photos of random objects until he can do it without totally messing up the focus, then teach him about zooming. That takes a whole half hour, because he can’t seem to figure out how to get any sort of middle ground, either going all the way out or zooming in for far you can’t even tell what he took the photo of. You forgo filters, that’s a battle you don’t have the energy to take on today, and instead focus on flash—how to turn it on and off, when it needs to be on and off—and video. That one takes two hours. 

You start to wander the house, taking him to the kitchen and explaining how food photos work. 

“That’s fucking insane,” Ben mutters as you conclude your small speech. “Just eat the damn food.” 

“You’re still going to eat the food, this is for the memory of it. So you can look at it later and remember hey, that was a fucking delicious quiche.” 

“That dumb.” Ben snapped. “Just remember shit with your fucking brain.” 

You snort. “You’re going to hate Instagram.” 

“What the hell is Instagram.” 

You don’t explain or elaborate, simply linking your elbow through his and pulling him into the hallway, up the stairs. From there you spend a while in the bedroom, making Ben take photos in lower lighting to practice the flash and teaching him about mirror selfies. He takes that one a little easier, though it results in a lot of sex jokes about how mirrors are for two hot people fucking and how he’d be open to showing you what that means, beautiful, if you say please. 

When you enter the bathroom, making Ben take about three or four videos of the running water, you notice he keeps looking at his shield. Before you can ask what he’s doing it for, he looks at you in the mirror, “How did you put it on the screen?” 

“The shield?” You ask for clarity, even if you know what he means. He grunts, and you continue. “I set it as your wallpaper.” 

“How?” 

You pause, narrowing your eyes at his reflection. “If I show you, it doesn’t count as part of my winnings, because you asked.” 

“Fine,” Ben thrusts the phone into your hand. “Just do it.” 

You do, Ben hanging over your shoulder as you navigate to settings, then wallpaper, then slowly walk him through the functions. Eventually—after another hour or so of pointless photos and videos—you feel a little more comfortable in his capabilities, maybe even bordering on confident, and tug him back to the couch. 

“That’s thing one,” you take the phone back from Ben’s hand, scrolling to the app store. “Ready for thing two?” 

“That was more than one fucking thing,” he snaps. “That was a least damn fifty.” 

“Nope. That was just cameras. I get one more.” 

“Not if I just walk the hell away-“ 

“Ben,” you look up at him. “Just trust me. You’ll like this.” 

He scowls, but waits for you to return the phone to his hand. Ben’s eyes scan the screen for a second before he looks back up at you. “What the fuck is this.” 

“Candy Crush.” 

“What.” 

You scoot a little closer to him, resting your head against his arm as you look up at him with a smile. “It’s a game. Senior citizens everywhere love it.” 

“I am not-“ 

“Yeah, you are.” You dismiss him, drumming your fingers against his skin. “It’s a silly, stupid game with bright colors and an addictive design. It kills time, and-“ your grin grows until it’s toothy and covering your face. “If you spend money, it’s out of the CIA’s pocket.” 

“Spend money?”

“In-app purchases. You fail a level, pay to try again.” 

Ben says your name, a long drawl that sits in your stomach. “I am not playing this shit.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. “But if you change your mind, the app looks like that.” You return to the homescreen, pointing at the logo. 

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t fucking use it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

You grin. “And I said okay.” 

“Brat.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Cunt.” 

Ben drops his phone to the side, attention entirely scorching through you. “You want the second half of our deal?” 

“Yes,” you answer a little too fast, and your voice is suddenly weaker. You blame Ben’s lust, climbing into you, intertwining with your own, sitting happily in your gut and above your lungs. He’s almost on top of you, and you can see just a slight ring of green in his eyes. Watching you, coming closer. Closer, still closer. But not close enough.

You don’t think Ben could ever be close enough. Not when he finally touches you, not when he sucks on your mouth and tongue and neck like he’d promised, not even when he fully rolls on top of you. Because everything in the world is nothing compared to this. Just Ben. Touching you. Close, but not close enough. 

Your alarm from your phone barely breaks through your ears into your brain, because all your thoughts are being overtaken by just Ben. 

“Fuck,” you manage to pull back, grabbing your phone to turn off the repetitive ringing. “We need to get changed.” 

“Changed?” Ben frowns, still holding you. “The hell do we need to get changed for?” 

“Neuman,” you start to stand up, but Ben’s hand falls to grab yours, keeping you from leaving the couch. “The Boys will be here in like twenty, Ben. Probably more like ten with Butcher’s lack of respect for speed limits and police.” 

“And you’re coming on this one.” He scans your face, hand squeezing yours. 

“Yeah, I should be. We shouldn’t really be in public for this, so I don’t see why I can’t.” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let go, so you squeeze his hand back. “I’ll be fine. But we need to change.” 

That seems to get through to him, because he nods, rising from the couch. Still holding your hand. “You change first. I need to shit.” 

“Charming.” 

You start to move away, but Ben doesn’t let go of your hand, spinning you around into his chest. This last kiss is long. He’s taking his time, pulling you closer and closer, not stopping until you whimper, and then pulling back with a smirk. “You have seven minutes.” 

It takes a few seconds of blinking away the burn under your skin to understand what he means. When you do, though, you shove his chest and stomp up the stairs, yelling over your shoulder. “You’re a piece of shit, Benjamin.”

He doesn’t respond, but when you look back for only a second, he’s smiling after you. A toothy, content, easy grin that makes his eyes sparkle and face look like all he’s ever felt is joy. Never any cold Russian nights or sour, consuming revenge. Just joy. Warm, simple joy. 

You’ll never tell him. He’d hate that you used the word sparkle, because he’s a fucking man and not a glittery pussy, but it’s accurate. And it doesn’t matter, because you’ll never, ever tell him. You’ll keep him close, but not as close as you want, and touch him until he grows bored of you, and taste phantoms of vanilla and salt and strawberry forever. You’ll have him like this, and make it be enough. This will be enough. Because Ben is everything, and you don’t deserve everything. He wouldn’t give you everything anyway. 

So you’ll have this. You’ll have his joy and let it carry you everywhere. And that will fucking be enough.

————

Ben had never been so satisfied by just kissing. He didn’t think it was fucking possible to be this satisfied by just kissing. But it was Her. And she was perfect. Kissing Her was perfect. Hell, he’d even start to develop a strategy for how to kiss her. Ben was filing away every sound she made—the loud whines and quite whimpers and moans, and this one thing where she’d make a throaty, high noise that was half his name and half a squeal—and spending a lot of time trying to figure out what triggered each and every one. If he sucked on Her neck she’d make a hissing, needy sound. If it was her chin, the noise would become more breathless and she’d lean into him. If Ben was gentle the sounds were soft, when he let himself go just a fucking fraction, they were loud and desperate. 

He wasn’t going to stop until he had it all memorized. Until he knew every single thing that made Her tick and why. The why was fucking vital, because if Ben could figure out why She liked something, he could find a million new ways to do it. And keep going and going until She was singing for him, and he could play Her perfect mouth—and whatever part of her perfect body she’d offer him—like the symphony it was. Where he was the only conductor in the world that wasn’t a pretentious fucking pussy, because his orchestra was the most fucking perfect woman to ever exist. And then, unless She made him, he wouldn’t ever stop. 

Because kissing Her was addicting. Ben had thought that touching her was like a drug, but She had an annoying habit of making Ben look like a fucking idiot. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in touching Her before, he could’ve seen this coming. He could’ve realized that just brushing against Her skin was better than any kiss he’d ever had. He could’ve put together that kissing Her would feel like goddamn sex, hot and wet and savage, the most natural thing he’d ever done. Kissing Her made the Thing so big that it was no longer just in Ben’s chest. It was all over him, rooted where it had always been but burning through the rest of his body. 

If just kissing Her did this, made Ben become overtaken with an almost pious desire to keep going forever and ever, actually fucking Her might kill him. 

And he was okay with that. It would be a worthy death. 

She was still upstairs, and Ben could hear the even pattern of Her heartbeat as she changed, hear the shuffle of clothes falling to the floor and moving in the drawers. She was probably fucking naked up there, just a floor away. The Thing wanted to go to Her, just fucking offer more. But he wouldn’t because She didn’t want more right now. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why, not when She was kissing him back and fucking cumming to the thought of him. The Thing had almost exploded inside him when She’d told him that, and Ben was trying to just pretend he was very calm about it and not trying to figure out ways he could keep Her doing that without hurting her or pushing her away. Even if he couldn’t figure out why that was needed. She seemed almost as desperate for more as Ben was. Not as desperate, because that wasn’t fucking possible. Ben felt pretty fucking confident in saying that nobody had ever been this filled with need for another person in history. But everything he was throwing at Her, she was throwing back at him. Like she always fucking did.

Because She was perfect. 

The door to the safe house opened before She returned to the living room, and it occurred to Ben that he still needed to shit. That he’d been standing at the base of the stairs like a goddamn idiot, waiting for Her like a fucking puppy. He could only be more pathetic if he was right outside her door. If a single member of the Pussy Brigade commented on it, asked why he was just standing around like he was lost, he’d tie their tongue into a knot then cut it out. 

He heard Butcher first. “You two twats ready to go?” 

Ben glared at him down the hall. “Obviously we’re fucking not.” 

“Did MM not fucking text like I told him to?” Butcher’s eyes raked over Ben, taking in his sweatpants and wrinkled shirt. 

Wrinkled from Her, the Thing hummed in content. She did that. 

Ben told it to shut up. He was well fucking aware of that, and didn’t need the Thing to remind him, because it made him hard and he had no interest in explaining a boner right now. 

MM entered the safe house, saying Her name as he walked to stand beside Butcher. “Got the text. She even gave it a reaction.” MM scanned the living room with a frown. “The hell is she?” 

On perfect fucking clue—Ben was starting to think She had a fifth power that made her do everything better than anyone had any damn right to—the bedroom door opened and She descended down the stairs. 

“Ben, where the hell did you put my sunglasses? Because I definitely left them on the dresser and they’re not there anymore-“ She froze at the bottom of the stairs, spotting Butcher and MM. “Uh, hi.” 

“Afternoon, Love.” Butcher looked between Her and Ben, a taunting smirk tugging at his lips, and it took everything in Ben not to step forward and block Her from Butcher’s gaze. “You ready to rumble?” 

“Um,” She looked at Ben, addressing him solely, and it made the Thing swell through him. “Can you change fast?”

He nodded, shrugging. “Whatever.” Ben started to push past Her, but she caught his arm. Still only looking at him. 

“Sunglasses?” 

Ben knew exactly where those sunglasses were. They’d fallen under the bed yesterday morning when he’d swept half the dresser's contents to the floor to put her down, and he’d seen them this morning when he’d been cleaning up his mess. He’d cum in his sleep like a fucking teenager, and moved faster than almost any other point in his life to cover it up. But Ben didn’t say any of that out loud, because he didn’t know if She wanted the Pussy Brigade to know that he’d been eating her mouth like a feast for two days and fifteen hours. Ben didn’t give a shit if they did, he’d fuck Her in front of them if it made it clear to them that he wasn’t going anywhere. But this seemed like the type of thing She’d care about, and he didn’t want to risk her taking away what she’d given him so far. 

So he just said, “I think I remember where I put them.” And retreated to their room. 

Ben gets the sunglasses first, propping them back up on the dresser where he won’t be able to miss them when he leaves. He shits quickly, puts on his supe suit—if the Pussy Brigade had a problem with that they could suck his dick—and stared at his shield in the bathroom for a second before deciding to leave it. He’d just be blasting Neuman and leaving, no damn point in taking it where Cocksucker would try and pick it up again. He checked his hair in the mirror, and failed to not think about fucking Her against it. Or fucking Her on the bed. Or on the stairs. Maybe in the kitchen. Defiantly during training, and if she ever made good on Her promise to show Ben porn-

He grabbed the sunglasses and stormed back downstairs, shoving the Thing and his desires to let it—Her—keep consuming him deep, deep into him. Ben had a fucking job to do. She’d still be there to dream about fucking until the bed broke after. 

She was waiting for him, talking to Kimiko in silence with a smile splitting her face. MM had left, Butcher was watching them with a look like he’d tasted shit, and Ben didn’t think anyone would miss the asshole if he somehow got slammed, face first, into the wall over and over. Especially as She heard Ben’s step, looking up at him with the same smile she needed to stop giving him. The smile that Ben couldn’t stop himself from reading as oh, it’s you! Hello, Benjamin. I adore you and if you wanted to give me every fucking piece of you, covered in blood or not, I’d take them and keep them safe. 

But that didn’t sound like Her at all. For one, she’d never say every fucking piece of you. She might say every part of you, or all of you, good, bad, and ugly, but she wouldn’t say every fucking piece of you. Ben would say that. 

Also, She didn’t think that. She gave a shit about him, Ben knew that much, but she didn’t adore him. Not like he adored Her. She didn’t want to keep him safe, not like Ben needed Her to be safe. The Thing would keep every bloody and dark part of Her safe if she’d give them to him. It would hold them carefully until she wanted them back, and then care for the place She’d put them until they returned. 

So Ben just took Her smile as best he could when he wasn’t allowed to pull it up to his mouth, make it open into a moan, and keep going and going up he learned what Her orgasms sounded like.

If She ever let him hear what her orgasms sounded like, it would take a damn miracle of God to stop him from hearing them every single fucking day.

He took Her smile, returned it with his own, and passed her the sunglasses. “Found them under the bed,” he grunted, stopping at Her side. 

“Oh,” She frowned, opening them and placing them on her brow. “I thought I checked there.” 

“Did you say the bed.” Butcher’s voice was mocking and cold, but lined with what Ben pinned to be genuine, morbid curiosity. “Are you two sharing a bed.”

Ben is more than fucking ready to cut out Butcher’s tongue. Maybe stab him in the throat to finish damn the job. But She speaks first. 

“Yeah, we are. Because some of us have nightmares about Homelander raping us and feel safer when we're not alone. So shove it up your ass.” 

The Thing was boiling in Ben. Overflowing with warmth and power for Her. Her, Her, Her, it chanted, making the continuing conversation a little fucking hard to hear. Ben could see Her look at him from the corner of her eyes. Giving him the tiniest smile that says thank you for not leaving me alone. 

Ben couldn’t stop himself smiling back. Wouldn’t fucking dream of it. You’d be lost without me. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. You can’t even use a phone camera without my help. 

Not anymore, he winked. And you have not one to blame but your damn self for that, Sunshine. 

She stomped on his foot, hard enough that he sort of feels it, Ben had to cover his snort with a cough. 

Butcher wasn’t fooled. “Something funny, Gov?” 

“Not to you, you boring fucking pussy,” Ben drawled. “Are we going to actually fucking go or just wait for you to jerk yourself off?” 

“Suddenly his head is in the game,” Butcher sneered. “I wonder what fucking did it?” His gaze turns to Her. “Can I borrow your tits, Love? I think they might be bloody magic.” 

“Stop being a cunt, Butcher,” She snapped, just in time to stop Ben throwing Butcher out the door hard enough to break the Pussy-Mobile Ben could see in the driveway. “And Ben’s right, we should get moving.” 

Butcher muttered something that sounds like horny fucking bombs shouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of each other, and stalked out the door. Kimiko signed something to Her with a smile, and she signed back with a laugh. Before Ben could even ask what the fuck they’re saying, Her arm was linked through his and she started telling him. 

“Kimiko says my tits are magic, but not as magic as Butcher’s. Which proves he’s just a dick, because if it was about magic tits he’d have the game on lock.” 

“Huh,” Ben frowned, trying not to let the Thing overtake him with thoughts about how right it feels to be walking with Her looped against him. “I wouldn’t have pegged Butcher to have good tits.” 

“That’s because you,” She bumped her shoulder with his. “Are very unobservant.” 

“I’m incredibly fucking observant. I clocked your tits the first time we met.”

“I remember. You weren’t listening to Hughie because of it. Which is very unobservant.” 

“It’s not my fault you have such good tits,” Ben grumbled, savoring the way Her heart flutters as she tried to fight her giggle. Looking up at him with fucking perfect, happy eyes. “They’re fucking weapons of war.” 

She fully snorted. “I think your compliments are regressing again.” 

Ben rolled his eyes, just offering a hand to steady Her as she climbs into the van. She takes it with a grin, and doesn’t let go when Ben follows her.

“What’s the plan,” She asked, and the Thing hummed as she still didn’t drop Ben’s hand, pulling him into his place at her side. 

Butcher’s answer was short, clipped. “Blast Neuman.” 

She blinked, her body tensing against Ben. “And?” 

“That, um, that’s kind of it,” Cocksucker said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have a huge window before Vicky gets word we’re up to something-“

She raised a hand, and Cocksucker fell silent. “What, exactly, did you use yesterday for.”

“Getting Neuman’s schedule,” MM answered this time, voice stronger than Cocksuckers but still lined with fucking guilt. “Those motherfuckers run a tight ship, we needed to know where she’d be-“

“But you didn’t come up with a plan. For when you would, inevitably, know?” 

Nobody answered this time, and She gave a long sigh. Her heart was fast in her chest, but it wasn’t the stumbling, unordered beat that signals fear or panic. It was moving because Her brain was moving, her perfect face scrunched in thought, the machine that was her brain practically audible. The Pussy Brigade even had the nerve to look afraid, despite the fact that She wasn't smoking or making the air of the van wave with heat.

She turned to Kimiko—sitting at the French Prick’s side—who was the only one watching with plain curiosity. They started to sign at each other—the French Prick jumping in to add something that was received with a frown and a nod—and when She turned back to the group her face was drawn in determination. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” She said slowly, staring ahead at the wall with her brows knit. Ben pulled Her a little closer into him, and her heart slowed slightly. “We’re catching Neuman at home. Off-guard. Do we know if other people live in the building?” 

“Only some other bureaucrat fuckers,” Butcher answered from the front, and Starlight shook her head. 

“And their fucking families, Butcher.” 

“Okay,” She nodded slowly. “Frenchie, you burned off your fingerprints a while ago, right?” 

“Oui,” the French Prick holds up his hands for display. 

“Good. You’re going to pull the fire alarm. Hughie,” Her sharp gaze turned to Cocksucker. “I need you on the cameras. Make sure everyone is out. MM will be on standby if there are stragglers. Kimiko and Annie will cover the exits, Butcher,” She paused, and Ben could hear the gnaw of her lip. “Scratch all of that. Annie can’t be seen participating in this, she’ll be on the cameras, and Butcher will take her spot on the exits. Hughie, you’ll come with Ben and I. I’ll cover you when he goes off.”

There’s a second of silence, and then the van erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about how he’s not going to cover a bloody exit, he wants to see Neuman get fucked. Starlight whining about how she doesn’t want to be useless in the van, she can really help. Cocksucker fretting about how he’s not sure this is a great idea, and might be better staying on the cameras. The French Prick and Kimiko are silent, exchanging a look with subtle gestures at Her, Kimiko’s face determined, gestures growing and growing until the French Prick raised his hands in surrender. Finally, MM seemed to be trying to do what he considered reasoning with Her, that they couldn’t just go off with only Hughie, what if you need backup, what if Soldier Boy goes nuclear. 

Ben opened his mouth—ready to defend himself, defend Her—but She caught his eye and shook her head. I can handle this. 

He gave a curt nod back, not hiding the scowl on his face. Fine. But don’t be fucking nice to them. 

Shut up, Her eyes narrowed at him before she turned back to the group, who was starting to tire themselves out like the fucking children they were. When the van was quiet once more, She spoke in a clear, bored voice. 

“Butcher, we’re not killing Neuman, so you’re not invited. Annie, I know you want to help. Staying here is helping. You’ll draw attention, and if the public realizes you’re associated with Soldier Boy then we’ll be assfucked. MM, Ben won’t just go nuclear. We’ve got it under control. Hughie, you’re the only one Neuman won’t try to pop on sight. She’ll talk to you, and it’ll be good to have a friend there for when Ben’s done. And-“ She sat up a little straighter, glaring around the van. “If any of you don’t like my plan, I’d love to hear your alternatives.” 

“How do you plan on getting into the bloody building?” Butcher snapped. “They ain’t just gonna let you in.” 

“Fire escapes are very real, dumbass.” She retorted. “And Hughie can do that shit where he makes their cameras play the same video so they don’t see us. We’ll corner Neuman, then Frenchie will pull the alarm, and Ben will go off once it’s just us and her and Zoe.” 

“What’s your escape plan?” Starlight asked, giving Cocksucker a worried look. “You two can just leave, but Hughie-“ 

“I can redirect Ben’s blast. Make sure it doesn’t destroy the building. Hughie will be fine.” Ben stiffens beside Her, because as far as he fucking knows she’d only done that once. And it had ended in Her small and sad and broken, curled up into herself and alone. 

She has you this time, the Thing reminded him. If this goes to shit, she’ll always fucking have you. 

“Are we good?” She was asking the van, and Ben saw each of the fucking pussies nod. “Awesome.”

She leaned back into Ben, and he frowned down at Her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You can redirect my fucking blast?”

She shrugged, starting ahead with empty eyes. “Hypothetically, yeah.” 

“And you’re going to risk Hughie’s life on hypothetically?” Ben didn’t give a shit about Cocksucker’s life, but She did. And Ben gave a shit about Her life, about her not breaking down and tearing herself apart about accidentally killing Cocksucker.

“It’s an educated guess, Ben.” She muttered. “It’ll work. It has to. And don’t you dare say-“ She shot Ben a glare, voice dropping into her dogshit impression of him. “But what if it doesn’t.” 

Ben scoffed. “I wasn’t going to fucking say that.”

“Yes, you were. You always say that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben felt the Thing become a little lighter as a smile tugged at Her mouth. “Do I have to do anything in your plan besides hit Neuman?” 

“You have to not be a dick to Hughie, let me do the talking, and stand around looking pretty until I tell you to be useful,” She counted her answers off one by one on her fingers, and Ben chuckled. 

“Be pretty, huh?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments, Benjamin,” She teased. “It’s unbecoming.” 

“If I give you one, will you give me one?” Ben leaned forward a little, fighting every instinct in his body to soothe Her lips where she’d been chewing them with his tongue. Any marks were gone, so he couldn’t really fucking pick out where She’d been biting, but that just meant he’d have to cover all his bases. Soothe Her whole fucking mouth. “A quid pro quo?” 

She hummed. “Good use of quid pro quo.” 

“Is that a fucking yes?” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “You look very nice in your stupid suit.” 

“Nice?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gave him a flat glare. “Handsome.” 

“Say the whole thing.” 

“My compliment better blow Shakespeare out of the fucking water,” she muttered, but looked up at him with batting eyelashes and an over-sweet voice. “You look very handsome in your stupid fucking suit. Your turn.” 

Ben started to stall, because he couldn’t think of anything good enough for Her. “We should get you a suit.” 

She snorted. “I am not wearing a costume.” 

“It’s not a fucking costume, Sunshine, it’s a uniform.” 

“If I can buy a semi accurate version of it at Spirit Halloween, it’s a costume.” 

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween.” 

“It’s a costume store. Stop stalling and give me my compliment.” 

Ben sighed, scanning Her face and trying to make the Thing come up with something a little more fucking poetic than you, you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect. 

“You…” Off to a remarkably fucking shit start. “Are…” Ben was going to find it, if it was the last thing he fucking did. He was going to keep staring at Her until he figured out exactly what say that would make her face all flushed and thighs clench and heart stutter.

“I am?” 

“You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him. 

“I’m good?” She frowned at him, and for a second Ben wanted to bring her into his chest, just show Her what he’d meant. He couldn’t show her with just words, and she was frowning, and just fucking showing her would be more fun anyways. It would make Her smile, make her understand, he was goddamn sure of it. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“You’re good,” Ben repeated, shrugging and his hands fisted to stop himself from grabbing Her. “It’s pretty fucking simple. Your pretty brain should be able to figure it out.” 

“Well congratulations, you’ve stumped me. Can you please be just the tiniest bit less cryptic.” 

“You’re good.” 

“Yeah, I heard you the first two times-“

“No,” Ben said Her name, too lost in trying to make her get it to stop himself grabbing her chin. “You’re good. You’re not what these pussies say you are. You’re a lot fucking more than whatever Homelander thinks you are. You’re better and more important than any politician, supe or no. You’re good.” 

“Oh,” She whispered. “Thanks.” 

Ben’s hand was still against Her jaw, and she wasn’t pushing it away. If anything She was leaning into it, keeping Ben touching her as if she didn’t care about the useless fucking onlookers either. And She was staring at him, keeping Ben with her just by fucking looking at him, her mouth just slightly open. If he wanted Ben could move his thumb up, trace Her perfect lips, see if she’d let him push it into her- 

Someone who Ben was going to have to kill later said Her name, and she looked away. 

The Thing was so absorbed in Her, in try to get back to Her, that Ben missed the entire first half of the conversation. MM was crouching in front of Her—holding onto the seat at her side to steady himself from Butcher’s fucking terrible driving—and talking without sparing Ben a glance. 

“-Even if Butcher doesn’t tip her off, what makes you absolutely so goddamn certain Soldier Boy won’t blow his load early and screw us,” MM was hissing, and Ben scowled. 

“I never fucking blow my load early-“ 

She caught his eye, her own flaring slightly to tell him, Shut up, Pretty Boy. 

Ben grunted, but fell silent with a clenched jaw, shooting Her a look of, I don’t blow my load early. 

She rolled her eyes. Now is not even remotely the time to start measuring your dick. Let me handle this. 

Fine, Ben winked. But you’re welcome to help me measure it later. 

She kicked Ben’s shin, addressing MM. “He won’t. I’ve been working on it.” 

“You’ve been working on it?” MM scoffed. “Just because you’re all smiley and gross at each other doesn’t mean you can control this motherfucker’s PTSD.” 

“No, but my fucking healing powers mean that I can get rid of it.” 

MM blinked at Her, glancing quickly at Ben before speaking in a low tone that Ben, for one, didn’t fucking appreciate. “You've been healing him.” 

“Allegedly,” Ben muttered under his breath, and earned a dirty look. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve only blown your load once this month. So shut the fuck up.” She looked back at MM. “He can control it.” 

“It’s your ass if he can’t,” MM snapped, and She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m aware. He can.”

Both Ben and the Thing were big fans of how clear and final She said those words. Ben could control it, that was it, no room for discussion. She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.

“Do you know where we’re putting Neuman and Zoe after this?” She was still talking to MM, but Her voice had raised enough for the whole shit team to hear. “She can’t just keep being Vice President. Homelander will kill her.” 

“About that,” it was Cocksucker who answered, rubbing his hands together like an anxious pussy. “They’re going to the safe house.” 

“The safe house?” She repeated with a frown. “Like, our safe house?” 

The Thing liked Her use of our. Ben did too. He did not like where this conversation was headed. “I am not living with Head-popper and her kid.” 

“Well, I’ve got fantastic fucking news,” Butcher drawled, standing and turning as the van came to a halt. “You ain’t gonna. You two,” Butcher pointed between Ben and Her. “Will be moving.” 

“To a different safe house?” She asked, and Butcher shook his head with a snake-like grin.

“To the new FBSA HQ,” Butcher winked at Ben, and Ben wanted to sew his eye shut. “In Jersey.”

“I am not living in fucking Jersey either,” Ben snapped, and She sighed. 

“Why not a new safe house?” 

“Because.”

She snorted at Butcher’s useless fucking response. “What, does the whole CIA somehow only have one safe house?” 

“Listen,” MM grunted. “You’ll get an apartment. Just a little fuckin smaller than the house. You’ll have more freedom-“ 

“We both still won’t be able to leave the house.” She pointed out, and MM shrugged. 

“But you’ll be able to fuckin order food. Get packages delivered without texting me or Mallory about it. Have visitors. Anything you order will have to be under a fake name, and visitors will have to be approved, but it’s more than what you have now.” 

“Why now? That building was finished in January, I saw it on the news. Why move us now?” 

“Because,” Butcher crossed the van with a shrug. “We bloody said so. Now are we ready to get a move on? Time is of the essence in this shit plan.” 

“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “Hughie, can you-“ 

“On it,” Cocksucker gave Her a thumbs up, starting to tap of his little laptop. “I’ll let you know when I’m good.” 

“Thanks. Just so we’re all on the same page, Butcher, what are you doing?” 

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Watching the exit. Why am I getting fucking cold called-“ 

She ignored Butcher’s whiny bitching, and turned to Starlight. “Annie?” 

“Stay in the van, make sure the building’s clear.” 

“MM?”

“Standby to help Annie get people out.” 

“Frenchie?” 

“Fire alarm.” 

She signed at Kimiko, who responded with a smile. 

“Good,” She looked around the van, and Ben realized she hadn’t asked him. 

Because She trusts you, the Thing rumbled. She isn’t worried about you fucking it. 

“Any questions?” She asked, and when she was met with shaking heads she nodded. “Hughie?”

“We're good. Annie, do you need help-“

Starlight shook her head, taking the computer from Cocksucker. “I’ve got it.”

Cocksucker gave a small nod, and turned to Her. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Ben could hear the tap of Her fingers in the familiar pattern, her heart speeding up as she took another breath. “We’ll go first. Annie, find exits for Butcher and Kimiko, and send them fast. If Neuman sees us coming we need to have our asses covered. I’ll text when Frenchie’s good to pull the alarm.”

She stood on unsteady feet, and Ben’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her around the waist. He was rewarded with a grateful smile and Her heart slowing ever so slightly. “Ready?” 

The question was for Ben. He knew it, because She wasn’t looking anywhere but him and her voice was soft. “Fucking born for it.” 

She huffed a small laugh, dropping the sunglasses onto the bridge of her perfect nose, and Ben didn’t bother to remove his arm from her as he stood. The Pussy Brigade’s confused and judgmental stares could go suck each other off if they wanted. She gave a small gesture to Cocksucker, who left Starlight’s side to follow them out the van and into the cold alleyway. 

They were silent for a second as She took in the tall brownstone building before them. Cocksucker kept shooting them both anxious fucking pussy looks as Ben held Her against him—using his body to block her from the chills of the wind—and would look away frantically whenever Ben held his gaze. 

“Ben,” She looked up at him with sharp eyes, over the frames of her sunglasses. “You need to throw us.”

“What?” 

Ben and Cocksucker spoke in almost perfect unison, though Cocksucker’s words were more panicked in comparison to Ben’s disbelief. 

“I am not fucking throwing you,” Ben snapped Her name. 

“You have to,” She looked back at the building, pointing as she spoke. “We can’t go through the emergency exit, alarms will go off. That,” Her finger moved to the iron stairs and grates lining the building. “Is our best bet. You can jump, me and Hughie can’t.” 

“Then I’ll go first and lower the damn ladder.” 

Cocksucker nodded. “I second Soldier Boy, that’s a better plan.” 

“No,” She elbowed Ben’s ribs, shaking her head. “It’s not. That’s something people might notice. We need to leave as little a trail as possible. Ben’s going to throw us. Me first, then Hughie, then he’ll jump.” 

Ben wanted to argue—tell Her that there had to be a better idea that didn’t involve Her just being chucked into the fucking air—but She had already detangled herself from Ben, and was moving towards the building. So Ben followed, Cocksucker stumbling behind him, and stopped at Her side. 

“This is fucking stupid, Sunshine.”

“Uh huh,” She looked up at the fire escape. “Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffed, but picked Her up carefully, locking his arms firmly around her body and balancing on one leg as he propped up a knee. “Don’t die.” 

“Couldn’t if I tried. Go.” 

Ben squeezed Her slightly, then threw Her up. The half-second before she grabbed the rails—where she was suspended almost fucking cartoonishly in the sky—sucked all the air from Ben’s lungs. But She was fast, finding a grip and hauling herself onto the platform with only a small grunt that was carried away by the wind.

“All good!” She called down. “Send Hughie up.” 

Ben looked at Cocksucker, whose face was like a fucking deer about to be mauled by a wolf. 

“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea-“ 

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, walking to pick the gangly fucker up. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. And she’ll catch you.” 

“But-“ 

Ben grabbed Cocksucker under his arms and tossed him into the air with a yelp. As promised, She grabbed Cocksucker’s hand in the air, holding him steady until the little pussy got a hold on the bars himself and pulled up to Her side. Ben sighed, rolling his neck and trying to measure the jump as he backed up. 

“Ben-“ 

Her call was cut off as he lept into the air, landing pretty damn perfectly on the platform. Right in front of Her. “Yes?” He winked, tone mocking, and She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“Show off.” 

“You fucking told me to do that.” 

“Fuck you,” She turned away, and the Thing started brainstorming ways to get her back later for those words. “Hughie, what floor is Neuman on?” 

“The top one, I think.” 

“You think?” 

“I’m like 98% sure.” 

She sighed. “Then we better start climbing.” 

The walk up the stairs was silent, Her leading the way, Ben at the rear, and Cocksucker moving in small, quick steps between them. The wind was biting, howling in Ben’s ears louder and louder the closer they drew to the top, drowning out the sound of Her heartbeat. When they stopped, one level from the roof, She crouched below the window. Cocksucker followed suit, and Ben gave Her a flat look.

“I’m not-“

“Benjamin, get your ass down before I make you.” 

He glared at Her, only because this is important, and hunched to the floor.

“I’ll go in first. Ben, I’m going to have to keep my eyes on Neuman, so you need to text Butcher.” 

“I don’t have my fucking phone-“ 

She tossed it at Ben wordlessly, raising Her brows. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out. 

“Ready?” 

Ben grunted, and Cocksucker gave a barely perceptible nod. 

She exhaled through puffed lips, moving the sunglasses into her jacket as she looked at the window. “Here we fucking go.” 

Neuman’s apartment was nice. Cozy. If Ben didn’t have a fucking job to do, he’d ask for her interior decorator. Especially if he’d understood MM correctly and was going to be getting his own apartment soon. To share with Her. Their apartment. 

Would she like that carpet? The Thing was fixated on a deep blue, stupidly damn fluffy carpet thrown across Neuman’s floor. No, it’s blue. Fucking pussy color. She’d like the texture though- 

Job to do. Ben had a job to do. The Thing needed to shut the fuck up, because Ben had a job to do. 

A job that walked right into the hallway they were standing in. 

Neuman’s eyes widened, talking a stumbling step back as she yelped. “Hughie? The fuck are you doing here? In my home?” Nueman’s eyes darted to Ben, then Her. “With Soldier Boy and the Anomaly?” 

“It’s complicated,” Cocksucker rubbed his neck nervously. “You should, uh, you should get Zoe.” 

“Stay the hell away from my daughter. Whatever you’re doing here doesn’t fucking involve her.” 

“Vicki-“ 

Cocksucker’s pleading words were cut off by Her, tone firm. “Neuman, we’re not going to hurt you, or Zoe. We just need you both. Now.” 

Neuman laughed disbelievingly. “You’re not here to hurt me, but you brought Solider Boy?” 

“We’ll explain,” She answered, voice calm even as Her heart started to pick up. “But please get Zoe.” 

“Fuck no-“

“Neuman.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t pop me or Ben. You won’t pop Hughie. I swear we aren’t here to hurt you. Go get Zoe.” 

There was silence for a second, Ben could see Neuman looking around frantically, trying to find a way out where there wasn’t one, and eventually giving in. “Zo, baby? Can you come here please?” 

A girl, couldn’t be more than fucking twelve, entered the hall. “Mom, what’s-“ The kid’s words died with a gasp as she saw Ben, Cocksucker, and Her in the hall. “Mom?” 

Neuman moved the kid behind her, holding her hand with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“What is Hughie doing here, with Soldier Boy?!” The girl's voice was frantic, and Ben could hear her heart race. “And Homelander’s girlfriend? What the fuck is happening-“ 

“She’s not Homelander’s girlfriend,” Ben hissed, and She slapped Ben’s arm. 

She’s just a kid, Her glare said. And you said you’d let me do the talking. 

You’re not Homelander’s anything, Ben glared back. She should fucking know that. 

Just a kid, Ben. She gave the phone in his hand a pointed look. Text Butcher that we’re good. 

Ben scoffed, but opened the damn phone to tell Butcher that the French Prick needed to move as Neuman continued to comfort her daughter. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I can’t explain right now, but we’re going to be fine. I just need you to stay behind me.” 

“Mom-“ 

“Zoe,” Cocksucker said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, or your mom. We just need to talk.” 

“About what?” Neuman hissed. “I’d have taken a meeting, you didn’t have to resort to breaking into my home, Hughie.” 

“Well, uh-“ 

“And I fucking know you visited Stan on Monday. So don’t lie to me and say you’re not up to something-“ 

Neuman was cut off as a wailing, deafening siren rattled through the building. Turns out the French Prick moved impressively fast. Ben had barely hit send two seconds ago. 

“Ben,” She mumbled, eyes not leaving Neuman’s fearful expression. “Can you break the alarms?” 

Ben nodded with a grunt, walking to the red light above them as smashing it with his fist. That seemed to be enough, he could hear everyone’s breathing and heart again, so he returned to Her side. 

“Hughie, tell me when Annie says we’re good.” 

Cocksucker nodded, pulling out and fidgeting with his phone, and Neuman took a shaky step back. 

“Don’t try and leave, Neuman,” She said, voice tired and face bored. “I really don’t want to hurt you, so please just wait.” 

“Wait for what?! What the fuck is happening?!” 

She sighed. “As you probably figured out, we cut a deal with Edgar. He’s going to help us out, as long as we talk you and Zoe out of the game.” 

“Out of the game?” Neuman’s face twisted in determination. “You lay a hand on me, on Zoe, and I’ll blow Hughie’s brains up.” 

Cocksucker paled, “Vicki-“ 

“I phrased that poorly.” She addressed Neuman firmly, standing her ground. “We’re removing the V from your system. So you don’t have to be a part of this shit show. The CIA will keep you safe, and we’ll get what we need.” 

“No,” Neuman shook her head, taking another step back. “Fuck no. You’re not touching me, or Zoe, and whatever Stan said he’d give you I can give you as well-“ 

Neuman’s words choked him her throat as fire spread slowly along the floor. Controlled, careful flames that blocked the exits and never rose above a foot. 

“We’re not asking.” She said softly, almost fucking apologetic. “It might hurt for a second, but you’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“Um,” Cocksucker said Her name, looking up from his phone. “We’re ready.”

“I’m sorry,” She said to Neuman, and Ben knew She fucking meant it. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, her breathing was labored, and her face was full of guilt when she looked at him. “Now, Ben.” 

Ben called the drums, pulling them as fast as he fucking could into his chest, into time with his heart. It was building, growing louder and brighter, and he angled his chest at Her right before everything fell in place inside him, and the world exploded. 

The Thing roared as the bomb caught Her, even if every conscious part of Ben knew she’d be fine. She was strong, she could handle it, she’d fucking told him to hit her. But that didn’t stop the Thing from trying to climb out of him, to get to Her as she floated off the ground, surrounded in golden light and fire with her eyes shut. Ben couldn’t hear Her heart, couldn’t read her face, couldn’t give shit about Neuman trying to run or Cocksucker backing up to the window. It was just Her, burning alone, impossible to reach. Impossible to help. 

She went out. For only a second all the light died, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat again. Then Her eyes opened, fucking wild and glowing, and everything exploded. Light shot from Her chest, hitting Neuman and Zoe head on, moving through their bodies as she levitated further off the floor. Ben even fucking stumbled, because the world shook. The ground moved and everything seemed to come to a screeching halt, suspended in time as She grew brighter. Time only resumed when the light—as fast as it had appeared—died, and She collapsed to the floor. 

Ben fucking dove to catch Her, grabbing around her chest right before she hit the floor. Her eyes were open, and Ben could see the exhaustion in them, hear the slowing of Her heart as the energy drained from Her body. He heard Cocksucker run past them, checking on Nueman,  but didn’t look away from Her. 

“Ben,” Her voice was weak, breathless. “I’m fine. Make sure it worked.” 

“I’m not fucking leaving you-“

“All you have to do is turn your head, check that Neuman and Zoe are alive, and tell me,” She gave a soft laugh. “Fucking drama queen.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben muttered, but glanced over his shoulder to where Cocksucker was standing awkwardly as Zoe climbed her feet, Neuman pulling her into a hug. “They look fucking fine.”

“Okay,” She sat up slowly, not trying to leave Ben’s hold as she called over him. “Hughie, are they-“ 

“We are,” Neuman answered. “I can’t feel it. Your blood or hearts. Zo?” 

The girl’s hands moved to her face. “They’re gone.” 

Neuman nodded, and looked back at Her. Ben could hear the race of Neuman’s heart, almost smell her fear. “Now what?” 

“Butcher and Kimiko are on their way up,” Cocksucker said, glancing at his phone. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” 

“What about my life,” Neuman shook her head. “Zoe’s life-“ 

“You both wouldn’t have fucking lives if Homelander decided you weren’t useful anymore,” Ben snapped. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Neuman looked at Ben with a frown, her eyes scanning over how he was still holding Her, keeping her carefully upright. “What did Edgar offer you.” 

“Help,” Ben hissed. “And it's not your fucking problem now.” 

“We need to move,” She tugged at Ben’s shirt, voice even quieter than before. “Homelander will have noticed this, we need to go-“ 

Ben nodded roughly, and scooped Her into his arms. Ben turned to Cocksucker as She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell Butcher you pussies better fucking haul ass to get Neuman out.”

Cocksucker nodded nervously. “Um, where are you-“ 

“The van. We still have shit at the safe house, we’ll need to get it before you move us. But I’m not fucking waiting here until Butcher arrives.” Until Homelander arrives. Not when She’s about to pass out. Ben spoke the last words through gritted teeth. “I did my job. Do yours.” 

Ben didn’t wait for Cocksucker’s response, climbing back out of the window and studying the drop down the alley. He could just jump—it would be faster and they’d both be fine—but it would be loud. Crack the pavement. 

Get more unwelcome attention. 

So Ben climbed down the stairs, keeping Her secure against his chest. He jumped down from only the last platform, making sure Her hold on him was firm before did he, and moved to van in long, fast steps. He vaulted through the doors, dropping against the walls—not bothering with pointless fucking greetings to MM or Starlight—and listened to Her breathing fall, becoming slow and easy as her eyes drooped. She passed out in Ben’s arms, and he rubbed small circles on Her back because he fucking could. Because they had done it, She had done it, so Edgar would come through and she’d be safe.

It took a few minutes, but the remainder of the team—now joined by Nueman and her daughter—returned to the van. The door slammed behind them and MM took off, hightailing it away from the alley, from where Homelander would surely arrive any minute. But Ben didn’t give a shit, didn’t bother to listen to Butcher, Starlight, and Nueman talk about next steps, because She was here. Holding Ben, heartbeat in rhythm with his own.

She leaned against Ben the whole way back to the safe house. Face smushed into his chest, hair tickling Ben’s chin as she climbed up just a little closer in her sleep. Curled in his lap, a little bit of droll falling from her mouth. Ben had never seen something so fucking perfect in his life. She deserved to be like that for the rest of fucking time, comfortable and peaceful. Against Ben, if that’s what she wanted. 

Ben moved slowly, careful not to disturb Her, and pulled out his phone. 696969 was a fucking stupid passcode, but he’d noticed Her fight a giggle every time he had to enter it so it would stay like that forever. It took him a minute to find the camera app—there had to be a better way to navigate this piece of shit—but when he did he raised his free arm, holding the phone down at Her perfect face, and took a photo. It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him. 

Something of Her, forever.

End Note: My wife (Victoria Neuman) is home from war (s4 of the Boys)

Thank you guys for 100 followers!!! I want to do something but have literally no clue what. As always, thank you for reading, and leave a comment if you want to, with any and all your thoughts or feedback! They feed me, and I adore you guys <3

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

[isagisyoichi]

0X1=LOVE SONG (I KNOW I LOVE YOU)

SYNOPSIS: little things they do when they’re in love.

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi, bachira, niko, chigiri, raichi, nagi, sae, reo.

WARNINGS: none i think

A/N: part 2839933 of me cleaning out my drafts

ISAGI YOICHI:

always remembers to grab some of your favorite candy whenever he’s at the gas station. still has the receipt from your first date together. unironically looks for his and your initials whenever he sees one of those “these initials are soulmates 😦” tiktoks that were obviously made by 12 year olds. i mean, isagi already believes you two are made for each other, but you know, extra reassurance never hurts.

BACHIRA MEGURU:

buys cringey couples clothes “ironically,” or so he says. tries makes you wear them with him in public. resist his puppy eyes for the sake of your dignity. talks to his mom about you often, with a permanent lovelorn lilt in his voice as he raves about you. his mom's been planning your guy's wedding in her head for months now. lets his guard down with you. puts away his happy-go-lucky persona for a while and lets himself cry in your arms about the things that hurt him in the past, because he knows he’ll be okay as long as he has you.

CHIGIRI HYOUMA:

lets you, and only you, touch his hair. will let you braid it, tie it up, whatever, as long as you're being careful, of course. likes to read to you while you rest your head in his lap. used to roll his eyes when he heard the cheesy love songs blasting from his sister’s room but now, chigiri finds himself smiling at the sound (even though he'd rather die than tell anyone that). it’s because he finally understands what they’re talking about, what love is about, and it’s what he has with you.

RAICHI JINGO:

gifts you a necklace with a little “j” on it, so you can have a little part of him everywhere you go. and because he loves the way the silver pendant glistens when you talk to another guy. never fails to hype you up in your instagram comments. does the absolute most to talk to you when his phone is taken. makes a google doc so you guys can talk on that, emails you on his school account, gets a backup phone LOL. raichi’s living proof of “if he wanted to, he would.”

NAGI SEISHIRO:

you’re the only person he answers when he receives a facetime call unannounced. the type to have four different conversations with you on four different messaging platforms. y’all are arguing on snap but playing 8ball on imessage 😭 puts you on to his music. nagi is a huge gatekeeper for no reason, but you’re the one person he deems worthy enough to share his musical knowledge with. it's his way of telling you that you're special to him in a way no one else is.

ITOSHI SAE:

has playful arguments with you all the time. he’s always liked how you’re one of the few people capable of keeping up with his neverending spiel of sarcasm. has no problem complaining to the chef when your order is wrong, even if you insist it’s okay, because to sae, it’s not. to him, you only deserve the best. lets his ice cold exterior melt when he’s alone with you. he smiles genuinely, lets out slight chuckles at your lame jokes, speaks without insulting someone after every other sentence, just softens up so much around you. you’re good for him, you know that?

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE:

doesn’t mind when you hog the blanket. in fact, he’ll let you have all of it, even if it means he’ll be freezing. keeps a picture of you in his wallet. blushes when people see and asks if that’s his significant other. never fails to make you breakfast whenever you spend the night with him. makes you daydream of a future where you can look forward to his cooking everyday.

MIKAGE REO:

pins your conversation with him on imessage. will happily make any and all corny couples tiktoks with you. y'all have even gone viral a couple of times which have earned comments from nagi about how you two have “gone hollywood” on him 😐. the type to chat your dad up about stocks and stuff to kiss up to him, but reo actually knows what he’s talking about. your dad had accepted reo’s position as his future son in law within ten minutes of meeting him.

NIKO IKKI:

seriously relies on those “wiki-how” articles for relationship advice because he doesn’t trust his friends but, he does want to know to make you happy. when he holds your hand, niko rubs his thumb against the back of your palm. lets you take him out of his comfort zone. even though he’s rather rigid with his limits, niko finds himself loosening up in your presence, allowing himself to experience more of what life has to offer. as long as you're by his side, of course.

[dogmomwrites]

15 Questions OC Edition

This tag came from @cljordan-imperium, so thank you! I'll pass it on with soft tags to @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @breath-of-eternity, @jjm-blogspot, and @writewithfire, as well as leaving it an open tag for anyone else!

This is for Cadara from my Castle series

Are you named after anyone? Nope, I'm my own person! My grandmother wanted me to be named after an ancestor, but my parents worried that might put pressure on me to "live up to the name" and so they chose to let me forge my own path without the pressure

When was the last time you cried? Time is a little confusing for us right now, but ignoring the lost time, it hasn't been all that long. Just two weeks ago, my friends and I all laughed until we cried—over something that wasn't even all that funny. We just couldn't stop snorting, which is always the funniest thing in the wee morning hours. And just a couple days before that, my sister's dog had puppies and I cried over how tiny they were

Do you have kids? Not yet! I want either two or four...I'll start with two and see how that goes

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Every so often. It's like a second language around here, so it's hard to avoid picking the habit up, even if I prefer when people are genuine

What’s the first thing you notice about people? I never really thought about that. What they're doing, I suppose. If it looks like fun, I like to learn about it so I can join in

What’s your eye color? Blue. Some people say it's dark, some say it's bright, so I'm never really sure which to say. Maybe it just depends on the lighting?

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the way (author's note: if Cadara was in our universe, she would love rom-coms, sweet romances, and fluff fics. Bonus points if they're musicals)

Any special talents? I'm a pretty good cook, I play three instruments, and I've won acrobatics contests a couple times

Where were you born? In the castle, like most people here. There's only a handful who were born on the mainland and even fewer who came here from another island

What are your hobbies? Reading, taking walks, going to the theater house as a patron and as a performer, ect

Have you any pets? I've had a couple throughout my life; currently I have two cats, a small dog, and I recently received a small hamster. He was injured at the time, but he's healed well!

What sports do you play/have played? I never really played sports. Not competitively, at least. I do play in the yard or during a family visit to the gardens though

How tall are you? 5 foot, 9 inches; 175 in centimeters; 1.75 in meters

Favorite subject in school? The animal section of biology. Specifically, the part where we learned about the habits and habitats of animals. Not so much the part where we learned about their insides

Dream job? Honestly, a bakery. One that makes sweet treats for people and for their pets, too! I'm saving up to open one with a couple friends, but it's more of a long-term plan

The empty question template is under this cut!

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye color?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

What are your hobbies?

Have you any pets?

What sports do you play/have played?

How tall are you?

Favorite subject in school?

Dream job?

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

[ozymandias-saffet]

Oz has his pen in one hand as he's jotting down the answer to a division of taxes from expenses and he says without looking up: "He's the only one with friendly eyes."

Maybe a weird answer, but the theater owner says it plainly, and with no hint of sarcasm. Ask a genuine question, get a genuine answer. Oz finally looks up - first to see the person he's talking to, where his gaze lingers for a moment. Then, dark half-lidded eyes turn back to the tank.

"That one." He points out a large sea turtle who, yes, somehow, seems to have very gentle eyes. "Perhaps its the wrinkles there. Looks a bit older and wiser. I wonder if he wants to see my inventory lists. Not very exciting, though. I think he'd be disappointed." The tiniest grin as he glances back to the other again. "...What's your favorite part? Of this place?"

the aquarium is not one of daniel's usual haunts. in fact, he's pretty sure this is his first time visiting despite having lived in the city for nearly a decade now. it has, however, become a habit of his to pick somewhere, anywhere, to go purely to force himself out of the apartment on emotionally low or high pain days. though he can't take the credit, it was firmly his therapist's idea.

turns out the aquarium is a pretty good pick ( maybe it will become a regular thing? ) though he's not certain if it's simply the mesmerising nature of the place or the pain that has him feeling just a little bit dazed. daniel blinks thrice, brows knitting together as he listens to the other from the adjacent bench. swallowing thickly, he glances at oz and back to the larger tank, face the picture of confusion. "... how do you know it's the same turtle?" he asks softly, tone entirely devoid of jest or menace.

[user21340]

the world in her arms

(i don’t own this gif or characters used in this fic)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you and natasha have always had quite a flirty and sarcastic relationship. both of you develop feelings for one another but you both are clueless to what the other feels until nat gets jealous and says something hurtful to you. will you make up (or out)?

warnings: minor angst, fluff, swearing, and a mention of death.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg thank you so much for 57 followers love you all 💕. sorry for the lack of content i didn’t know what to write and had almost no new ideas. also i’m a youngin and worked my first 8 hr day yesterday so your girl was exhausted and i have finals coming up soon. k thank you for coming to my ted talk, enjoy!

also this song doesn’t relate to the story at all but it’s underrated imo and also sorry for the weird pov changes throughout the story.

“Hey y/l/n! Where are you headed?” Natasha yells from the kitchen while I’m standing in the living room on our shared floor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Nat.” I say with a smirk.

“Yeah matter of fact I would.” she retorts.

“Chill, I’m just headed to train some recruits with Clint. But don’t miss me too much, I'll be back in a few hours, Natty.” You blow a kiss her way, and she just rolls her eyes partially from the kiss and the use of her nickname but you see a faint pink tint sitting atop of her cheeks before she turns away.

I’ve been training these recruits with Clint for a couple hours and my session is nearing an end. Something I’ve picked up on today is how touchy and how dumb these recruits are acting just for me to correct their form. I don’t have time for this shit I think as this girl has me correct her jab form for what has to be the fifth time this hour.

Non readers pov

Natasha actually does start to miss you because of how bored she is due to the larger training room being occupied for these recruits. She heads down to see if you are wrapping up yet and see if you’d like to grab dinner with her somewhere. She arrives at the training room and heads to the back room where there is a large one way mirror. Natasha, having nothing better to do, watches Clint and yourself interact with these seemingly clueless recruits.

Minutes pass and Natasha honestly likes seeing your frustration every time a recruit asks you a stupid question or something you’d already answered for the hundredth time this session. That is until she sees this handsy recruit keep asking you to correct your form which she sees you fake a smile at and happily correct it. As if Natasha isn’t jealous already she sees you release a genuine large laugh at something a recruit says. Not being able to withstand witnessing anymore of this behavior from you directed towards anyone else except her. Natasha then storms off into the living room.

Readers pov

I was nearing the end of this session when a recruit comes up behind me and asks, “Soooo, is it true that you and Clint are like a thing?” he asks with no trace of humor or sarcasm on his face. I just bust out laughing because one, everyone or at least almost everyone who knows about The Avengers knows that I’m 100% only interested in women and two, CLINT? I mean he is a great guy and all but I’ll never forget the time I went into a diner to have breakfast with him and the waitress assumed he was my grandfather.

twenty long minutes later...

The living room is lively and everyone seems to strike up a conversation with one another. I decide to strike up a conversation with Natasha who is weirdly acting cold all of a sudden.

“Oh my god! You know what I just remembered the other day? My mom used to-“

“Shut up, y/n/n. I don’t care and I don’t think anyone does at the moment.” she exclaims with a small smirk thinking you’ll detect her harsh-morbid sarcasm.

“Oh.” you choke out, “It’s getting pretty late I-I better head to bed” my voice cracks as I mutter a small, ‘asshole’ agony laced in my voice blinking the hot tears away. I start walking towards my room but it slowly turns into a jog, then sprint. Anything to get to my room and release my sadness.

Non readers pov

The room is frozen. Everyone is staring at Natasha.

“I care.” Wanda states heading to your room because she knows you shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Jesus Nat, that was awful. You know you’ve fucked you when even I say it’s bad. Poor girl’s mom passed when she was around 10.” Tony deadpans.

“Oh my god, what have I done?” Nat says burying her head into her hands.

“I’m not too sure how you’re gonna get out of this one Nat, but you’ve gotta fix this.” Sam says.

Wanda reaches your room and hears loud yet muffled sobs while standing in the hallway. She can feel your grief rippling through her body. The only heartache she can relate to is the moment she lost Pietro which is more than an average person should feel. She knocks on the door softly yet hard enough to alert you of her presence.

Readers pov

I hear three soft knocks on the door. I quickly silence my cries and assume it is Nat. I then clear my throat as the knocking continues and muster up enough energy to speak,

“Go away” into my pillow loudly. The knocking stops but I don’t hear anyone walk away just yet.

“Y/n/n, it’s Wanda. Can you let me in please, so we can talk?” she asks, I stand up while groaning and walk towards the door. I unlock it and open it just a crack to make sure she is alone and not with a certain someone. It is pretty short-lived as Wanda pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Oh hon, I’m sorry.” She says as she wraps me into a tight hug after closing the door behind her. I crumble into her embrace as she rubs small circles on my back. Wanda has always been such a calming figure in my life since I met her, a major part being that she can feel almost all of my anxieties that try to drown me throughout a day. She also knows how it feels to be alone which allows her to relate to my feelings, so she knows just how much missing someone who is gone for eternity hurts.

We hug for what feels like minutes but when I take a quick glance outside my window it is dark out.

“Is it true?” I rasp.

“What?” she counters.

“Y’know that no one cares. All I wanted to do was share a memory that I remembered of myself with my mom and as you know it isn’t too often that I remember these types of things and when I do I love sharing them, so she won’t ever be forgotten. It just hurts so much to be shut down talking about something you truly care about by someone you care about.” I explain while Wanda looks at me with the softest eyes I’ve ever seen while nodding her head slightly.

“Now that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I care and everyone in this compound cares about what you have to say as well as what you are feeling. You know how Natasha can be sometimes with the insensitive comments she makes before realizing what she’s doing.”

“I know but that doesn’t give her the right to j-just say stuff like that. I get how full our relationship is with banter and sarcastic comments but I really thought she was starting to like me.” I frown as Wanda just nods. That’s when exhaustion hits me like a truck.

“Wands, before I ask you this just know you can decline.” I give her a minute to protest, but she says nothing. ” Can you sleep with me?” Wanda’s eyes widen,

”Y/n/n I don’t think that is a good id-“ I realize what I just said and cut her off before things get even more uncomfortable. “Nonono, Wanda, like lay down with me not any of that gross stuff. Ew.” Wanda’s features fill with relief, and she chuckles at my childish comment about sex.

“Of course I will! You just may want to word it a little different next time.” she chuckles as you hide your face with embarrassment. We both get settled on the bed and I feel her two arms pull me towards her and I snuggle closer.

Non readers pov

Wanda slowly gets out of bed after she is sure you are fast asleep and sets off to find Nat. When she does she sees that Nat had barely moved from where she last saw her still with her face in her hands.

“Nat. I know you think you really screwed up, which you did, but it’s y/n/n. You can’t go on without telling her how you feel about her.”

“Wanda, you can’t just look in my mind! We’ve talked about this!”

“Romanoff you know I’m one to keep my promises, so I’d never look without your permission. Maybe if you turned down the volume of your thoughts a few decibels I wouldn’t have heard anything. Also, are you ready that oblivious to the fact the whole team knows you two are like little lovesick puppies for one another when you two aren’t attached by the hip.” she explains, “Now, stop moping around and apologize at least.”

“You’re right, Wands, wish me luck. I hope she can forgive me.”

Natasha gets up and races towards your room. She didn’t want to wait so long to talk to you and apologize, but she thought you wouldn’t want to speak to her after what she’d said.

Similarly, to Wanda’s entrance, Natasha softly knocks on your door enough to wake you even out of your semi-deep sleep.

Readers pov

I jump at the knocks on the door and am confused to see Wanda is no longer beside me.

“Wanda you don’t have to knock, you know that.” I sigh out.

“It isn’t Wanda.” a voice you are able to recognize as Nat sheepishly speaks.

“Oh, what do you need?” I ask, all the heartbreak and ache coming back when I hear the voice I’m usually excited to listen to, as if her speech is my favorite song.

“Can we talk? I need to apologize.”

“Sure,” I softly reply.

Non readers pov

Nat opens the door once she has your permission and sees your usual strong, confident frame look small and fragile. Her heart breaks at the sight of you so broken and in pain because of her own actions. Not to mention your tear stained cheeks when you look towards her. It is silent for a minute or so before you throw your head back onto your pillow staring at the ceiling. This awakens something in Natasha for an unknown reason.

Readers pov

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I know that sorry doesn’t cut it for the amount of hurt I’ve caused you all because I was jealous but I hope we can rebuild what we had but it totally is okay if you don’t want to even though I would love another chance with yo-“

“Nat, calm down. I’m not going to sit here and say I’m fine with what you said because truth be told I love sharing memories of my family when I remember them with you. Not only because I trust you but because I think I care for you and love you more than friends should. I just hope what you said is meaningless or else that is when we can’t rebuild what we had.”

“No y/n/n, I didn’t mean any of it. It was just in the heat of the moment because I saw you laughing at something a recruit said when I was going to ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with me. So, I stormed off like a child and said hurtful things to mask my selfishness because I want you to be mine and mine only.”

“Oh my god Nat. You can’t be serious, I was laughing at something a recruit said because he assumed Clint and I were going out.” Nat bursts out laughing.

“See? Anyone who was told that who knew me would just die of laughter on the spot.” I say as I glance her way while patting the place beside me on my bed. She accepts.

“So you actually like me?” you hopefully ask.

“Possibly depending on if those feelings are reciprocated.”

“They are.” I say.

“Good. Can I also say how sorry I am for saying that to-“ I cut her off but placing a quick peck to her soft lips.

“Uh, uh, uh” I tut, “I don’t want to hear any more apologies come out of that mouth. Could you just hold me?” Natasha is still dumbfounded by the little kiss.

“Of course.” Nat complies pressing your back to her front as she wraps her long toned arms around your frame. I hum at the contact.

At this moment Nat realizes there is no place she’d rather be as she feels like she has the world in her arms.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Ian Malcolm

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(When I tell you I love this man.)

- You and Ian meet when you attend the same STEM related conference; though it would be more accurate to say that you met while you attended a conference that he was lecturing at. 

- Nevertheless, you were both in the same room and wound up interfacing before the meeting was over; an interaction that would lead to a very interesting and at times exasperating relationship. 

- You found him fascinating; just like pretty much everyone else in the crowd, someone who had a big, entertaining personality in a field that so often lacked personality. You liked him the minute he opened his mouth. 

- He, in turn, thought that you were gorgeous and found himself falling for you the minute he locked eyes on you. He was looking forward to the moment he could slink off stage and find a way to talk to you. He did so right after he finished his speech and the applause settled down.

- He artfully found his way through the crowd and managed to convince the person beside you to switch their seat, taking it for himself after the starry eyed boy got up. 

- The two of you sat in silence for a little while before he leaned over and introduced himself, shaking your hand for a lingering moment before you both turned your attention back to the stage. 

- Another beat of silence passed between you before he leaned over and murmured a funny comment to you, reveling in the way you tried to hold back your smile. You spent the rest of the meeting trying to stifle your laughter as your new ironic commentator continued his jokes and flirtation. It certainly made the conference more enjoyable. 

- Once the shows over and everyone begins to clear out, he asks if you’re doing anything before asking if you’d like to go out and grab a couple of drinks or talk someplace. 

- That's how you find yourself seated next to him at the bar of a nice little restaurant, listening to him explain the chaos theory in detail and trying your best to digest everything that he’s saying; along with your drinks. 

- Along with his mathematical explanations, he also provides a lot of compliments and flirtation. You spend the evening feeling like the most important and sought after woman in the world

- Since you could easily; and very accurately, consider that little get together to be your first date, let’s move on to your first kiss. 

- It’s a date or two later that the two of you share it. You don’t want to give in too easily; even if you want to kiss him a lot sooner, so you play coy until you cant take it any more and the moment feels perfectly right. 

- Perfectly right seems to mean the middle of your kitchen after you invited him in for some coffee but hey, to each their own. 

- Nevertheless, you’d invited him into your home after one of your dates and gone to your kitchen to get the two of you your drinks. He’d followed you in and when you handed him his cup of coffee, he’d leaned in, pressed his lips to yours and given you a soft kiss.

- When he pulled away, he smiled at you, raised his mug, and gave you a somewhat teasing thank you before he lead the way into your living room. 

- One mug lead to another and you've been staying up late with each other ever since. 

- Ian suffers from a deplorable need to constantly be touching you. On top of that, he really isn’t too preoccupied with how other people feel so Pda is very common and performed very shamelessly.

- His arm is usually wrapped around you in some way, whether it be draped across the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders, or haphazardly thrown in front of you while a T. Rex is charging towards you.

- Tight hugs; which usually means that you’re being somewhat picked up since he’s so goddamn tall.

- Having your hair played with; oftentimes while he uses his flirtation on you.

- Knee squeezes. His hand belongs to your knee whenever he can’t wrap his arm around you.

- He loves cheek kisses. He loves the sort of showing off feel of them whenever you’re in front of someone else; and he just loves how soft and sweet they are.

- Slow, passionate kisses.

- Oftentimes, you wind up sleeping in the crook of his arm; usually with your head resting against his chest. That being said, the two of you also just cuddle haphazardly, snuggling in any which way you can, your limbs entangled and your bodies relaxed.

- He tends to call you honey or baby but, considering the fact that he calls his daughter Queen, my goddess and my inspiration, there’s room for a few more over dramatic pet names in your relationship.

- Waking up together. Ian's a math professor so, depending on both your schedules, you’re usually getting up around the same time. Although, if you get up earlier than he has to, he’d definitely; somewhat begrudgingly, adapt to your schedule.

- The two of you are attached at the hip a lot of the time. If you choose to go somewhere, he’s bound to follow; whether that be to keep you safe or just because he enjoys spending time with you is anyone’s guess.

- Working on separate things while you’re together. Sometimes couples just want to be in the same room while they do their own thing and I think that’s beautiful.

- Going shopping together. He’s a fan of clothes shopping, groceries, not so much.

- He likes trying out new things and going to all those different places that pop up in town so the two of you visit a lot of new restaurants and shops.

- Going out to dinner at nice restaurants. He’s the Rockstar of the math community so of course he’d want to take you to a few high end places; whenever he could afford it that is.

- Traveling around the world together. Whenever he has to go somewhere, he likes taking you with him.

- Being in the crowds of his conferences and public appearances. You like cheering him on and he appreciates the fact that you’re always there for him; even if he doesn’t necessarily need the support.

- Ian isn’t the greatest at keeping his word and he can get really caught up in his work to the point where he forgets important things, but he does always try his best to make things up to you whenever he can.

- Becoming close with Kelly. She enjoys living with you when her mother can’t be bothered and Ian’s bogged down by work. He loves both his girls dearly so the fact that you get along with each other is very important to him.

- You get to use the fact that you’re with Kelly as an excuse to go do stupid and somewhat childish things like visiting arcades and county fairs. Not that you couldn’t do that without her but I think you know what I mean.

- Movie nights; usually with him and Kelly.

- Museum dates.

- He genuinely thinks that your weird interests and quirks are endearing and fascinating. Other people would consider them strange, Ian considers them to be a compelling part of your personality.

- Seeing you talk about things that you’re passionate about is one of his favorite things in the world. He thinks that drive to learn and do and the intelligence that you possess is extremely sexy.

- Sometimes he’ll just look at you like he wants to eat you alive and it’s extremely problematic. Sir, we are in public.

- Lots of flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, he still enjoys making you flustered and treating you like the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

- Unnecessary and frankly disrespectful noises. If he doesn’t stop making salacious growls at you, you’re gonna have to act up.

- Letting him explain all his different theories and findings to you. He loves showing off and having your undivided attention.

- Breaking rules together. If you aren’t keen on doing so, he’d definitely tease you for being a goody goody.

- He carries around a flask most of the time so the two of you can always just park somewhere and drink together whenever you feel like. Some of your best memories take place in his car, passing around a little metal container and talking about nothing in particular.

- Sarcasm drips from this mans every pore so you should try to get used to it. As annoying as it can be, it does make for some funny comments here and there.

- Snarky comments; whether they’re directed at you or someone else. Ian can be a bit of a bastard so don’t be surprised when his mouth opens and something mocking comes out. Just be prepared to occasionally slap his arm and stop him from being a total ass to people; even if it’s justified.

- Corny little jokes.

- Trying to keep him from verbally destroying people. He’s very verbal about his opinions so chances are, he’s going to speak his mind at one point or another and you might not want to be there when he does.

- He’s a voice of reason for just about everyone on Earth so if you need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid, he’s perfect for you.

- Sticking with him and being there for him after everything happens. He changes very drastically in the following years after meeting Mr. Hammond but you love him no less.

- No matter what people may think of him, you still defend him and proudly stand by his side. You’ve learned to ignore the opinion of others and not entertain their gossip.

- Helping him deal with the trauma that comes with almost getting fucking eaten.

- Ian doesn’t get jealous very often. He’s secure enough in himself and knows that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but every now and again, if you’re particularly close to like a colleague or something, he’ll show some signs of jealousy. Mainly, he’ll just ask a bunch of questions about them and your relationship; all the while trying to play it off as normal curiosity.

- Ian is incredibly protective of you; particularly after the events of Jurassic park. He’s willing to do whatever he can to keep you safe; even if it means endangering himself or doing something that scares the hell out of him.

- The two of you don’t fight extremely often; and you rarely have very serious fights, but you do have an argument from time to time. He may say something sarcastic or hurtful in the heat of the moment on occasion but he never means it and he always immediately apologizes.

- Very few fights last overnight. He’s usually so quick to apologize and try to sort things out that you’re back on track in no time. Under his egotistical shell, he’s really just a big softie who wants things to be alright between the two of you.

- He tells you that he loves you a perfectly average amount of times; not too much and not too little. And he loves hearing you say it back or just tell him that you love him for no real reason.

- Ian legitimately loves kids. Like he’s fully prepared to get married and start a family with you at any given moment. Believe me, you just say the words and he’ll pop the question.

[aurilvs]

8 chaotic overworked teens<3

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𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬| Chenle and Seulgi are academic rivals every one in the school knew it at this point, the both of them being competitive and extremely inteligent it just made sense that their rivalery grew, one day miss kim decided to make the unmakeble and pair them together expecting chaos but turns out that with their burnt out kid syndrome they have more in common that they thought they had.

With very good kept secrets everything can go downhill

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚| chenle and seulgi(oc)

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗔| rivals-to-lovers highschool!au fluff angst

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚| swearing, sarcasm, mentions of food, being stressed lmk if i missed something

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧| @prdshobi @furryllamas is open!!

𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚| chenle, jaemin and jisung from nct, yena(soloist and iz*one), yeji (itzy), ningning (aespa), jay (enhypen)

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧| listen here

written part under the cut!!!!!

Chenle had planned to go out and have a study date with his friends and maybe have some food afterward to reward themselves after 3 or 4 hours of work hunched over in an uncomfortable chair squeezing their brains so much that it felt like putty later, what he didn't expect is seulgi, the person he found out was not so bad after all, with her friends by the cash register and he didn't expect even more is her happily waving even with her friends teasing ab how he is the so-called friend “the fuck are u doing here” Seulgi started, although her choice of words might seem hostile Chenle had spent enough time with her to understand that she meant its nice to see you. “Hi Seulgi I'm good thanks for asking I came here with my friends to study” Chenle said in a mocking tone although the smile resting on his lips only showed how happy he was to stumble upon her “yeah yeah” she hummed not really paying attention to the underlying tone in his voice.

Before she could say anything else Jay cleared his throat making sure his presence was known “right Chenle these are my best and only friends Jay Yeji and Ningning” the girl said introducing each of them individually with a grin spreading across her face “nice to meet you guys she has talked about you guys a lot how do you stand her” he jokingly asked before Seulgi jokingly hit him “ow” Chenle let out a groan in pain “dramatic ass” Seulgi muttered rolling her eyes “hi Chenle its nice to meet you” Yeji started “aren't you friends with Jisung? we are both on the dance team” she said holding fondness to the boy that was just mentioned.

“Yes I should introduce them to you guys” the Chinese male said before making gestures to his friends to come over to what the group followed without complaining “so these are Jaemin Jisung and Yena also my best and only friends” he said mimicking Seulgi’s earlier words “ohhh so this is Seulgi” Jaemin started “hi guys I'm Seulgi these are Jay Yeji and Ning” she said introducing her friends “I know Yeji and Ning, Yeji from going to drop off Jisung at dance practice and Ning from her dropping off coffee or sweets at the debate club but I hadn't met Jay yet it's nice to meet you all” Yena started since she was the extrovert of her friend group she gladly took the lead on instances like this genuinely acting like a mom but she enjoyed taking care of her friends.

“Yeah I know Jisung and Yena but I haven't met Jaemin yet so it's a pleasure” Yeji said trying to create a conversation mainly with Jisung. Yeji, in all honesty, admired the boy, he was a year younger but still was one of the aces of the dance team, as a leader she swore she didn't have favorites but Jisung was slowly breaking that promise, but they were both too shy to try to build a conversation even though both of them would enjoy it very much, Yeji didn't want to leave the world with regrets so she started doing what she wanted, you have to enjoy life while it lasts right?.

“Yeah, I love your dance style the lines you have while dancing are so crisp and your facials always match the piece perfectly” Jisung praised his dance leader honestly just letting out what he has been thinking for months now “dancers” Seulgi muttered under her breath just loud enough so that Chenle could catch it and let out a chuckle before starting “as much as I would love to spend the whole day talking and getting to know each other I think we all have a shit studying to do so let's get started if we want to have at least five hours of sleep” “yeah but let's sit together sitting next to Yeji all the time gets kind of boring” Ningning joked to what Yeji visibly let out a scoff before Ningning gave her a side hug and muttered “I'm joking I love uuu” the rest agreeing to Ningnings idea.

Three or four hours later with tired backs and sore eyes, all 8 teenagers called it a day not before coming to the conclusion that they liked each other’s presence and promising to hang out together more frequently and with the excuse of that making the group chat overworked teenagers.