#This is all word vomit and it probably makes no sense. I have no idea what I'm doing.

[total-drama-brainrot]

father ophe shall you psychoanalize courtney

specifically her Problems™️

You know, as much as I'd like to say Courtney deserved better than she got, for the most part I think a lot of her suffering in Total Drama was easily predictable for a person with her characteristics.

And I don't mean that in a "Courtney earned everything she got by means of being a Bad Person™" kind of way. Because she's not - a bad person that is. But the fact remains that Courtney's depiction in the show, and most of her unfortunate actions/decisions, are a direct result of her character aspects. Her personality and drive. Her priorities.

In a more realistic show, she'd experience the same tragic outcome simply because she's too invested in winning, and that investment blinds her to the unsightly actions she can and will take to win.

So I'd like to preface this analysis with that; Courtney's actions in the show are easy enough to ignore as "poor writing choices", but they do make sense for someone with her particular temperament, chronic need for commandership, and perfectionism.

Let's start with season one Courtney (or Island Courtney).

At the beginning of the show in its entirety, we're introduced to a Courtney who's a lot less intense than the one we eventually come to know and love. In fact, Courtney in the first two episodes of the show is significantly different from how she's portrayed throughout the rest of the show; she's compassionate and caring (her concern for Izzy during her introduction), and she's far more rational and level-headed than her later depictions. That's not to say she's not the same competitive and managerial girl, she's just... more subdued.

Even her speech patterns are different - I remember there being some confusion about who her voice actress was in the first couple of episodes, simply because her voice is so much softer (and slightly nasally), though this can be excused by the fact that the VA was likely still getting a feel for her character and how she wanted to portray Courtney.

Of course, at the end of episode two, we get to see a glimpse of Courtney's competitive (and slightly unhinged) spirit in the little monologue she gives to the camera. A sign of things to come.

One thing I find particularly ironic for Courtney is this confession she makes about Eva, where she states that someone's strength doesn't excuse their "psychopathic" actions/behaviour. Given how she acts in later seasons, this really highlights either a complete lack of self awareness in Courtney herself, or a major shift of her priorities prompted by her deep-rooted need to win.

Episodes three and four seem to be where the real Courtney comes into play. She starts showing off the characteristics we'll eventually come to associate with Courtney's personality, most notably her quick temper and her need to be in charge/control of the team. Whereas previously Courtney had calmly cited her experience as a CIT to justify taking control, from Dodgebrawl and beyond she starts simply utilizing sheer assertiveness (and her team's unwillingness to challenge her authority, outside of Duncan) to order the Bass around. And it works. For the most part.

Then her romantic subplot with Duncan begins, and we get to see the less obvious aspects of Courtney's character come into play.

Her confidence issues and the value she ascribes to "strength" (in Phobia Factor, when she can't face her fear), her repressed rebelliousness and impulsivity spurred on by Duncan's influence (pretty much the secondary focus of episode 12, Basic Straining) and, in relation, her secret desire to be free from the constraints of being a "rule follower" and the lack of knowledge/confidence to seek said freedom.

And then she's eliminated. And something in Courtney shifts.

Which, to be fair, I'd probably snap too if I was unfairly eliminated via rigged votes from a competition I'd dedicated myself to winning, especially if the votes were rigged against me for the actions of my kind-of boyfriend.

In the interviews we get with her in Haute Camp-ture, Courtney is hell-bent on revenge against Harold for her elimination, and she's violent with her threats against him. And her acts against him - she literally attacks him with a light pole and then bends the metal of the pole around him.

People who are mentally sound don't trap people in light poles.

They also don't fixate on winning reality TV shows to the point that their relationships deteriorate underneath their competitiveness and drive, but I digress.

Action happens, and it's. A thing. Courtney's played as the second and more threatening antagonist of the season, and she fits into the role well. They really ramp up her self-entitlement this season to play into the whole "I'm a CIT and a lawyer in training" deal, to the point where she literally sues her way back into the running. And her louder personality traits are amplified to make her more objectively villainous - not in the sense that she herself is villain, more so that her actions and behaviour work as the catalyst for a lot of conflict within the show. None of the other girls can stand her, she actively suffocates her boyfriend under her perfectionist standards, so on so forth.

It's still Courtney, just more. Like someone dialled up the Courtney-meter to an eleven, and sprinkled in some extra temper issues.

It's not like this shift in personality came out of nowhere though. As I said before, she's already showcasing this new aggression and overbearing will to win in Haute Camp-ture, so we know that her initial elimination in Island is what prompted her mental descent into antagonism. Though at this point, she doesn't recognise her actions as unreasonable. To Courtney, everything she's doing is entirely justifiable, and anyone who disagrees with her is trying to sabotage her.

Just like Harold did.

Courtney's competitiveness and her willingness to do anything to win and, in part, innate aspects of her temperament, but they're also symptomatic of the trust issues her Island elimination instilled in her. Trust issues that cause her to alienate herself from the people around her, holding others to impossibly high standards and/or disregarding them as not worth her time, in a subconscious effort to prevent them from hurting her.

Her relationship with Duncan becomes rocky at this point because she's overbearing and distrustful, and he's averse to authority and flaky. Courtney's perfectionism and trust issues work directly against Duncan's own problems, and their romance crumbles under the pressure.

Or at least it would, if they'd stop getting back together.

And then World Tour happens.

Courtney is initially distrustful and avoidant of Gwen, because she sees everyone else in the competition as a direct threat towards her and her acquisition of the million, but slowly comes to see Gwen as an ally. And then a friend.

And then Gwen breaks that trust by kissing her boyfriend. The trust issues come back into play with this betrayal, and Courtney's more aggressive personality traits come into play once again. This time though, her intenseness is a defence mechanism against the people who've hurt her, not a means to fuel her desire to win.

Eventually she gets eliminated for putting what little fragments of trust she had left into Alejandro of all people, but to be fair she doesn't really seem that bothered about losing World Tour - if her continued support of Alejandro in the finale means anything.

And then, I've heard, All-stars is an awful season for her. I haven't watched it, so I can't comment there.

-

That about wraps up the summary, let's get into her mindset.

Courtney enters the show itself as a seemingly demure and responsible person. She's proud of her status as a CIT and future lawyer, and she strives to lead her team to victory.

From the get-go, we see hints of her internalised need for leadership, and glimpses of her perfectionism. As the series progresses, we get to see her character grow from someone who follows rules and regulations to the letter, to someone who isn't afraid to take risks and break rules to her own advantage - which directly opposes her perfect "goody two-shoes" mindset and feeds into that suppressed desire for freedom I mentioned earlier. We also get to see her temper come into play, as she becomes a lot more assertive and quick to anger as the season progresses.

The Duncney plot in Island could have been good for the both of them, had their eventual fate been written differently. Duncan taught Courtney how to let loose and be reckless, and Courtney could've taught Duncan the value of structure and control in day-to-day life. They balanced each other out.

Her elimination is where Courtney's Problems™ come into play. For the most part she was a bossy but bearable presence on the Island, and it isn't until she's booted off the show that her more manic and unreasonable behaviours start surfacing.

We know from her whole "uptight CIT" deal that she struggles with perfectionism, and confidence issues that stem from said perfectionism (since no one can ever be perfect all the time, that's just human nature), so she disguises her insecurity underneath a layer of fake emotional strength that usually manifests itself as pride. It can be assumed, given her track record of overachievement, that her parents are probably the ones that enforced the standard of flawlessness within her. To the point it became less of a suggestion or a goal, and more of a constant standard she has to live by.

Her unfair elimination hits her hard, not just because it gives her some trust issues (that are only exacerbated later on) but because losing the competition goes against her standards of perfection. She was supposed to win, and not doing so is falling short of her expectations.

Her perpetual need to be the leader is likely a symptom of control issues, which often times go hand-in-hand with perfectionism - it's easier to make sure things are exactly as they should be when you're in complete control of them. It's also probably a result of her upbringing as an overachiever or "Type-A", as leadership skills are seen as a desirable trait to cultivate.

You mix together her control issues, her perfectionism and her competitiveness and you have yourself a very volatile molotov cocktail of emotions ready to blow upon her elimination.

Another thing I want to touch on is how unaware Courtney is when it comes to other people's needs and desires. She's very egocentric in her perception of the world, and oftentimes ignores or just doesn't realise how her own actions can impact other people. The biggest example of this is her treatment of Duncan throughout Action, where the impossibly high standards she holds him to take a huge and visible toll on his health, but she doesn't seem to notice. Or care. Because she's so caught up in the idea of having a "perfect boyfriend" that she doesn't think to consider how said boyfriend feels about it.

This egocentrism also plays into her control/leadership issues, since she oftentimes sees herself as the only person qualified to lead a team of people.

So, to summarise:

Perfectionism instilled within her (probably by her parents) that lead Courtney to holding herself to impossibly high standards she can never hope to achieve.

Confidence issues because of these unachieveable standards that she compensates for with a "large and in charge" personality, feigning emotional strength by supressing her feelings, and getting as many academic and extracurricular credentials as she can get.

Despite the confidence issues, she sees herself as inherently better than other people, either because of her own achievements and "good qualities" or because the people around her don't meet her standards.

Competitiveness and ambition aplenty, fuelled by the perfectionism.

Trust issues thanks to the repeated unfair betrayals against her, that feed into her delusion of not needing other people, being better than other people.

Control issues that feed into her desire to always be in positions of power and/or leadership.

Egocentrism and a lack of awareness of others' thoughts and feelings, especially in relation to how her behaviour can affect others.

... Courtney has NPD.

Courtney has NPD and the stress of Total Drama acerbated it until Courtney herself became volatile and unstable.

But that's not the point of this post. Though it does explain the gradual shifting of her personality from a functional CIT to a semi-funcitonal Reality TV washup.

Her issues lead her to make decisions that seem rash and irrational, but to Courtney herself she's fighting tooth and nail against a cast that are actively praying for her downfall, so her ruthlessness is entrely warrented. She's a victim of her own delusions and trust issues, and a bigger victim of the horrors of Total Drama that led her to becoming the person she was shown to be.

Therapy and a lot of time away from competitions would do her a world of good. Getting herself out of the climate of Reality TV entirely could save her.

[gothra]

I’ll never forget when I was arguing with a person in favor of total prison abolition and I asked them “what about violent offenders?” And they said “Well, in a world where prisons have been abolished, we’ll have leveled the playing field and everyone will have their basic needs met, and crime won’t be as much of an issue.” And then I was like “okay. But…no. Because rich people also rape and murder, so it isn’t just a poor person thing. So what will we do about that?” And I don’t think they answered me after that. I’m ashamed to say I continued to think that the problem was that I simply didn’t understand prison abolitionists enough and that their point was right in front of me, and it would click once I finally let myself understand it. It took me a long time to realize that if something is going to make sense, it needs to make sense. If you want to turn theory into Praxis (I’m using that word right don’t correct me I’ll vomit) everyone needs to be on board, which mean it all needs to click and it needs to click fast and fucking clear. You need to turn a complex idea into something both digestible and flexible enough to be expanded upon. Every time I ask a prison abolitionist what they actually intend to do about violent crime, I get directed to a summer reading list and a BreadTuber. It’s like a sleight-of-hand trick. Where’s the answer to my question. There it is. No wait, there it is. It’s under this cup. No it isn’t. “There’s theory that can explain this better than I can.” As if most theory isn’t just a collection of essays meant to be absorbed and discussed by academics, not the average skeptic. “Read this book.” And the book won’t even answer the question. The book tells you to go ask someone else. “Oh, watch this so-and-so, she totally explains it better than me.” Why can’t you explain it at all? Why did you even bring it up if you were going to point me to someone else to give me the basics that you should probably already know? Maybe I’m just one of those crazy people who thinks that some people need to be kept away from the public for everyone’s good. Maybe that just makes me insane. Maybe not believing that pervasive systemic misogyny could be solved with a UBI and a prayer circle makes me a bad guy. But it’s not like women’s safety is a priority anyway. It’s not like there is an objective claim to be made that re-releasing violent offenders or simply not locking them up is deadly.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house. 

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

 You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood,  but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house.  The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.”  His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn’t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

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

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone  time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras. 

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

 “Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

 Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance.  He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

 "You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you."  You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

 Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to  fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

*****************************************

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a  bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

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@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts

@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress

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[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [1]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"If you're just going to hide in the corner and not even attempt to attract potential clients, then make yourself useful and collect my new hair accessories from this shop," commanded Iseul, one of the more senior courtesans, as she handed you an invoice listing her orders for specific designs.

Rather than protesting or attempting to evade the task as she had anticipated, you enthusiastically agreed, "Of course, unnie!" before taking the document from her and dashing out of the brothel.

"Thank heavens. Anything to escape that dreadful place," you whispered to yourself, clutching the parchment close to your chest. You were relieved to be away from the hellhole that was supposed to be your new home, even if only for a bit.

Instead of keeping an eye out for the shop whose name and address were stated on the invoice, all you could concentrate on was the sight of ordinary people living their lives freely. You remembered once dreading the idea of having to marry out of obligation once you reached a certain age, but now you would gladly choose that life over this one. At least then, you would only belong to one man instead of any man willing to pay for your company or... services now.

Had you known a week ago how drastically your life would change, you would have run away from home much sooner. You should have done it earlier, if only it weren't for your tender, foolish heart that still felt sorry for your deadbeat father. He had done nothing but drink and gamble away all the money you earned from washing dishes at a nearby food stall. And all of that just for him to sell you off to a brothel when he realised he had no money left to pay off his debts.

A week before today, he stumbled home reeking of alcohol and vomit after being gone all night. He moved to drag you to your feet while you were tidying up the shabby little home you had grown up in, his tight grasp tearing a hole in the thin, worn hanbok clinging to your frail frame. You struggled against his hold, crying out, "What in god's name are you doing, father?! Let me go!"

Confused about his intentions, as he typically treated you as if you were invisible and only approached you when he needed money, you received no response. He dragged you toward the entrance and threw you out, causing you to land roughly on the ground.

As you gazed at the expensive fabric before you, you looked up to see a well-dressed woman with heavy makeup smirking down at you, "You'll do just fine. Thank you, Mr. Han. We accept your payment. I hope you're comfortable with never seeing her again, unless you decide to pay the Mansion of Midnight a visit, of course."

Your heart stopped in recognition of the name. The Mansion of Midnight—the notorious brothel that had haunted your nightmares since you were old enough to understand its existence.

You couldn't believe it.

Refused to believe it.

How could your father do this to you? How could he sell his own daughter to such a place just to pay off his debts?

Anger and disbelief surged within you as you struggled to process the enormity of his betrayal. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fought against the overwhelming sense abandonment. Clutching the torn fabric of your hanbok, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair. This wasn't the life you had imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, thrust into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

Turning to look at him, you knew all hope was gone when you found him waving his hand dismissively in response to the woman you now recognised as the brothel madam, "Whatever, so long as this means my debts are cleared. Just take her and go."

His callous words pierced through you like a knife, confirming what you had feared deep down. There would be no rescue, no redemption in his eyes. He was willing to sacrifice you without a second thought, all for the sake of his own selfish reasons.

Disgust and rage bubbled up inside you as you stared at him, unable to comprehend how a father could abandon his own flesh and blood in such a manner. The man you once hoped would someday change for the better was now nothing more than a heartless stranger.

I guess I'm the fool for staying.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, silently vowing to never forgive him for his betrayal. In that moment, you knew you were alone in this world, left to fend for yourself in a cruel and unforgiving reality. But despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume you, you refused to give up hope. You would find a way to survive, to reclaim your dignity and freedom.

Now, trapped in this place, you cursed yourself for even pitying him when you should have abandoned him, just like your mother did when you were merely a child. She left him for someone who could offer her a better life, one with no room for you. She left you with this sorry excuse of a man. Sometimes, you wonder why they bothered bringing you into this world in the first place, just for you to endure a life filled with so much unhappiness.

Lost in thought and unaware of your surroundings, a startled gasp escaped your lips as your shoulder bumped into another man's, causing the parchment in your hand to slip to the ground along with a few items belonging to him, "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry! I should have been more attentive. Here, let me help you gather your belongings," you apologised hastily, scrambling to collect his things while he did the same. Your movements paused when he accidentally grabbed your hand as you both reached for the same item.

"It's fine, my lady. Let me take care of it—"

As you lifted your heads to meet each other's gaze, your breath caught in your throat upon making eye contact. While you internally chuckled with a mixture of disbelief and sadness, realising how romantic this first encounter with this good-looking stranger could have potentially been if only you were an ordinary girl, he was too captivated by your beauty to utter a word.

So beautiful.

As Wooyoung took in the stunning lady before him, his heart skipped a beat. After encountering a woman as beautiful as Lady Park, he had almost resigned himself to the idea that he wouldn't find anyone more gorgeous. Yet, today, he found hope as he marvelled at you.

Judging from your initial reaction upon bumping into him, you were clearly not some rich little spoiled brat. There was a genuineness about you, a humility that spoke volumes to him.

Now, he just had to put his investigator skills to good use; find out who you were, which house you hailed from, and whether you were betrothed to another. If all went according to plan, he envisioned courting you, and perhaps, finally experiencing what it was like to have the kind of connection General Park and his wife shared—a love that transcended time and circumstance.

With determination in his heart, Wooyoung made a mental note to uncover the identity of this intriguing woman. You were a rare gem amidst the chaos of this world, and he was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding you.

As his gaze lingered on you, self-consciousness crept in. What if he was seeing through your identity? What if he knew the kind of job you were meant to be doing? The thought made you uneasy. Was that why he couldn't take his eyes off you? Perhaps it was his first time seeing a courtesan up close?

He could be disgusted for all you knew.

Blinking rapidly, you pulled your hand away and hurriedly stood up. Without giving him another chance to speak, you bowed deeply and politely excused yourself. You could still feel his intense stare burning into your back as you ran off, eager to get away from him for fear of his potential reaction when he realised what you were.

Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you struggled to focus on finding the damn shop you were meant to visit. Your heart felt heavy with hopelessness, knowing that thanks to your father, your life would never be the same. It was ruined now, irreversibly altered by his selfish actions.

Even if you were to somehow make your escape from this nightmare, your reputation would forever be tainted by this part of your history. There was no way you'd be able to hide the truth from anyone—the truth that you were once a courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight. The thought filled you with despair. No one would ever be able to accept you, nobody decent ever would.

Each step felt like a burden as you trudged along the unfamiliar streets. The world seemed bleak and unforgiving, with no glimmer of hope on the horizon. You felt utterly alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to confide in.

Help. Somebody, please help me.

Watching the mysterious, beautiful stranger he had encountered run off in the opposite direction, the investigator felt his heart pound in his chest. He tried to commit the image of your angelic features to memory, already excited to learn more about you.

For once, after completing his last assignment at the general's estate, he felt a glimmer of hope. Seonghwa had dismissed not only him but also Yunho and Hongjoong as soon as his grand wedding ceremony in the palace ended, expressing his desire for some alone time with his beloved wife. It seemed like everyone was moving on with their lives; the last Wooyoung had heard, the physician had returned to his clinic, and the dressmaker had resumed operations at his shop, both happy to grant the couple their much-needed honeymoon.

Except for him.

He had missed the thrill of working for the great General Park. While he loved his job, no other cases could ever compare to the adrenaline rush of working for his role model. Besides, that wasn't the only perk; he also had the opportunity to see the beautiful Lady Park nearly every day. He had been feeling bored, merely going through the motions with his current case until now.

His passion for investigating was reignited.

Screw his current case; it wasn't that important anyway. He had been hired by some wealthy old noblewoman to investigate whether her husband was cheating on her. It was while he was tailing the sleazy old man that he found himself in this part of town. But it looked like his new employer's case would have to take a back seat for now. Perhaps he should thank the old couple; otherwise, he wouldn't have stumbled upon his new dream girl today.

Yes, his new dream girl, because until just moments ago, that position had been occupied by Seonghwa's wife. Luckily for him, the general never discovered his tiny crush on her; otherwise, leaving the estate unscathed might have proven difficult. Jongho and Hongjoong had graciously kept his secret, for which he felt eternal gratitude. For his sake, he sincerely hoped the two would carry this secret to their graves. After all, he now has a new goddess to worship.

Without wasting a moment, Wooyoung immediately approached the people around him who had witnessed his accidental collision with you. Although most shook their heads, claiming they didn't recognise you, he tried not to be discouraged. With his skills, he knew he could gather all the information he needed in no time.

That night, he returned home and sketched the enchanting features he still vividly remembered before going to bed. His mind buzzed with the possibilities of who you could be. The following day, he planned to inquire again, armed with the drawing he had created. As the famous investigator Jung Wooyoung, he believed there was nothing he couldn't find if he set his mind to it. And now, he was investing even his heart into it.

The next morning, he rose extra early, having barely slept as endless thoughts of the mysterious beauty consumed his dreams throughout the night. He hastily devoured the breakfast prepared by his servants, bid his parents goodbye, and rushed out of his family estate toward that part of town once again. Eager to learn more about you immediately, he clutched the drawing tightly in his hand, feeling a glimmer of hope.

As he questioned people with the help of his sketch, some claimed to have seen you around but didn't know enough about you to provide further details. Nonetheless, it was a promising start. Surely, as he ventured closer to where you first emerged the day before, he would come across people who knew you.

True enough, it didn't take long for him to find someone who recognised the sweet face from his drawing. The middle-aged man smirked as he glanced at the parchment in Wooyoung's hands, "She's quite the beauty, isn't she? That, right there, is the newest recruit at the Mansion of Midnight."

"The Mansion of Midnight...?"

"Yes, it's the most well-known brothel in town, young man. Don't tell me you haven't heard of it? I suppose your young age explains it. Most of the patrons are older men, but I expected you would at least have heard of it. If you're looking for a future wife, she might not be the one for you. Beautiful as she is, she's merely a courtesan. Go find yourself a proper lady, son."

Disappointment crashed over him like a wave, his heart plummeting at the revelation. A courtesan...? All his idealistic fantasies of courting you shattered in an instant. He should have realised it was too good to be true. How could he have thought he found his own Lady Park so easily? With a heavy heart, he stuffed the piece of paper back into his pocket and trudged away, head bowed in shame. What would his parents or friends think if they knew he had been foolish enough to pursue a worker from a brothel?

Determined to rid his mind of thoughts of you, he committed himself to refocusing on his current case. In the following days, he threw himself into his work, seeking distraction like a heartbroken man. He constantly reminded himself that it was irrational to feel such strong emotions for someone he barely knew. Deep down, he knew that his infatuation was only with an idealised version of you, and not the actual you. Yet, despite this awareness, he still struggled to let go.

With a sigh, he scolded himself for letting thoughts of you distract him again while tailing his employer's husband. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand—to observe the old man's interactions and track his movements. His heart sank as he realised the intimidating building his target eagerly approached. Numerous women, adorned in heavy makeup and revealing hanboks, lingered near the entrance, attempting to attract potential clients. The words 'Mansion of Midnight' adorned a large sign in the centre of the establishment, with red curtains billowing out from open windows of various rooms on the upper floors.

Of course, it had to be here.

Suddenly, a dreadful thought struck him.

He shuddered at the possibility of you being the company his target had been seeking all along. The mere idea felt repulsive—a vision of that old man with his hands all over your delicate form. He turned to leave, no longer willing to entertain such sickening scenarios involving you. At least the case was closed. He had obtained the answers his employer sought; her husband had been frequenting the brothel. Whether or not that constituted cheating would be for her to decide. He was finished and wanted to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

As he tried to leave the area, his steps faltered when he overheard a conversation between a stall owner and their customer, "Have you heard about the new courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight? I heard the poor thing is there against her will, that's why she always looks so sad. Apparently, her father sold her to settle his debts—"

That was all he needed to hear before a pang of regret pierced his heart. Why hadn't he investigated more thoroughly? Why had he given up on you so easily? If that were true, you must have been terrified. The idea of your own father doing this to you made his blood boil. Suddenly, he found himself understanding General Park's fury towards the former Minister Jang all too well.

Useless son of a—

A sudden wave of protectiveness engulfed him as he felt the urgent need to rescue you. Acting on impulse, he swiftly turned around and sprinted back toward the brothel. It wasn't until he reached the establishment again that he realised he lacked a plan. What was his next move after discovering your actual situation?

Think, Jung Wooyoung, think!

Before he could even formulate a plan, one of the courtesans approached him, her demeanour dripping with seduction. She pressed her chest against his side, trailing a seductive finger across his chest. Her mouth watered at the thought of entertaining such a young and dashing man after dealing with disgusting old men for so long, "Hello there, handsome. Would you like to spend a little time with us? Have some fun? Here at the Mansion of Midnight, we provide only the best services," she purred, winking at him. He struggled to push her off without appearing too rude, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with her touchiness.

"I-I... yes, I'd like to spend some time with the newest courtesan here, please," he stuttered, managing to free himself from her grasp.

With a scoff, she crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief, "You mean Miss Han? Why? Just because she's new? She's been here for a week and is still a virgin. I assure you, experienced courtesans like myself would know better how to satisfy you."

As she attempted to promote herself further, an older woman who appeared to be in charge intervened, glaring at her, "Enough, Iseul. What did I say about respecting our client's wishes? It's not you he wants. Accept it and move along," she reprimanded. Turning to Wooyoung, the brothel madam grinned, "So, you'd like to request Miss Han, hm? I understand. She's around your age and is still pure. If I were you, she might be the only one I'd want too. Tell me, how long would you like to spend with her? An hour or two?"

"I want her to myself for the rest of the day."

"Miss Han, you fortunate little thing! Congratulations on securing your very first client. This dashing young man seems utterly smitten by you, to have reserved your company for the entire evening."

You tightly clenched your trembling fists to your chest, suppressing a terrified whimper as you listened to the brothel madam's devious teasing. You had prayed fervently that nobody would request your services, doing everything you could to remain inconspicuous over the past week, hoping they might see you as more suitable for hard labour; you'd much rather be the lowest servant than do any of this.

Yet, here you were, already with your first client, and not just any client—this man had gone as far as to secure your companionship for the entire day. Such occurrences were rare, even for the most sought-after courtesans in this establishment. You couldn't fathom who this person might be, how he had learned of you, and why he'd spend so much to buy your time.

"Wh-who is it? This customer..."

"Wouldn't you like to know? It's none other than the famous private investigator Jung Wooyoung, known for his significant role in aiding General Park's capture of former Minister Jang. I suppose even men with a strong sense of justice are still susceptible to desire," The sly woman drawled, winking at you, "Don't disappoint us, girl. A client of his calibre could become a valuable long-term patron. Treat him well."

In anticipation of this highly significant new client, they went to great lengths to prepare you. After informing you of the news, the brothel madam called upon a team of staff to bathe you and dress you in a seemingly brand-new hanbok. It was almost as revealing as the ones worn daily by Iseul and the other popular courtesans. Usually, newer girls like yourself were given hand-me-down hanboks that were less appealing, given your status. However, this didn't alleviate the pressure you were feeling; if anything, it intensified, knowing how valuable this client must be.

God, why? Why me, of all people?

You should have known that all men were alike. No matter how noble or upright they might seem, they were ultimately driven by temptation. At the end of the day, they all desired the same thing. You could only hope that he would at least go easy on you. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat on the bed in the room assigned to you and him for the night, waiting for him.

To steady your trembling hands, you balled them into fists, feeling your nails dig into the skin of your palm with such force that you were certain they would break soon. Just as you were about to sink deeper into your endless pool of misery, you froze at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. Internally cursing your father once more, you braced yourself for what lay ahead.

"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."

Hearing those words turned your stomach. Yes, this was your current reality. You were nothing more than a commodity—a comfort woman for hire. An object for men to exploit when they sought release, to use as they pleased, as long as they could pay for it.

As you accepted your fate, you closed your eyes and bowed your head, the wooden door creaking open slowly. There was no escape from this—his reservation for the entire evening could only mean one thing. He hadn't bought your time just for conversation and a meal. No, he was here for the reason most men visited a brothel. This was it; this was how you'd lose your innocence.

"Miss Han...?" The man's uncertain voice echoed through the room.

Lifting your gaze to meet the individual who would be claiming your innocence tonight, your eyes widened in recognition as soon as you laid eyes on him. He was the handsome stranger you had collided with the other day. With a gasp, you uttered, "It's you..."

"So, y-you're the famous private investigator? Wh-what are you doing here?" You asked, then shook your head and cleared your throat, "Wait, I'm sorry. That was a foolish question; everyone knows why men come here." Inside, you couldn't deny the disappointment. His initial impression had been shattered now that you knew he was your first client. He didn't seem like the type to visit such places, but you supposed you couldn't judge a book by its cover.

His eyes widened at your implication, and he quickly shook his head, waving his hands to deny it as he stepped closer to you. Seeing you visibly shrink back, he made sure to keep a respectful distance, "No, you don't understand. I'm not here for that, Miss Han."

Lowering his voice, he took a seat in the nearest chair and continued, "I'm here to help you. My name is Wooyoung, as you already know, and I'm an investigator. I heard you're here against your will because of your father. Is that right?"

He fought to keep his composure, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on your features. He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he struggled not to let his eyes wander further down to the sheer hanbok, which left your bare shoulders exposed thanks to its see-through material. Typically, such hanboks were reserved for married women about to spend the night with their husbands. The realisation that he was alone in a room with his dream girl dressed like that was enough to leave him flustered.

But he knew he needed to focus on the task at hand. Now was not the time to be feeling shy or distracted. He had a more important mission: to get you the hell out of here. So, he pushed aside his feelings and did his best to remain composed for your sake.

Nodding slowly, you furrowed your brows with scepticism, "Help me? Why? You don't even know me. What's in it for you? I have no money, and the only thing I can offer is..." Your voice trailed off as you glanced down at your body. Your distrust was palpable as you considered whether you could trust him. Just because he was the investigator who helped General Park capture the former Minister of Military Affairs didn't mean he had any obligation to you.

Understanding your hesitation, Wooyoung sighed deeply. He sympathised with your reluctance to trust a stranger, especially considering the betrayal you had experienced from someone you should have been able to rely on. He didn't blame you for questioning his motives; it was a reasonable response given the circumstances.

He looked into your eyes with a sincerity that struck you deeply, "Listen, not all men are like that," he said earnestly, "I know it may seem difficult for you to believe that someone would be willing to help you without expecting anything in return, but I'm here to prove to you that we exist. I'll admit your beauty captivated me initially, and I genuinely intended to court you. But after learning the truth about your situation, what kind of person would I be to not help? I won't rest until I get you out of here."

His words struck a chord within you, and there was a sincerity in his tone that you had rarely heard, not even from the people you called your parents. Despite your initial scepticism, you decided to believe him, if only for this moment. After all, if someone truly wanted to rescue you from this dreadful place, who were you to object?

You suppressed the shyness that arose upon his admission of his intentions to court you. Memories of your first encounter with him flooded back, making you ponder how different things might have been if you were an ordinary girl. Nevertheless, you were grateful he hadn't given up on you despite discovering your identity. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend in him.

Moving to sit across from him at the dining table in the centre of the room, you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, "Alright, Mr. Jung. I'll choose to trust you. I appreciate your efforts to help me, but... how do you plan to do that? The Mansion of Midnight isn't a small establishment. They've been around for as long as I can remember, and none of the girls working here have been able to just walk out as they please. As far as I know, I'm part of their property now."

"Not if I can help it. The larger the establishment, the more skeletons they have in their closet. Especially in a place like a brothel, I doubt their operations are entirely above board," he explained, "I'll keep returning for the next week, and buy up all your time. That'll keep other patrons away. Meanwhile, I'll use that time to snoop around. Trust me, we're getting you out of here, no matter what." He reassured you with a warm smile gorgeous enough to melt your heart, but you didn't let it show.

I most certainly hope so, Mr. Jung.

You couldn't help but admire his unwavering determination, even though a part of you hesitated to allow yourself to feel hopeful. You dared not raise your hopes too high, afraid of the crushing disappointment that would follow if his plan were to fail. Yet, at this moment, you were grateful to have crossed paths with him, whether or not he'd be able to get you out of here.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Sir, Investigator Jung is here to see you," Jongho announced at the entrance of his master's study, an anxious Wooyoung standing beside him. The general raised his brows in surprise, "At this hour? Let him in."

Without hesitation, the investigator rushed into the room, "My lord, I apologise for showing up unannounced so late at night! I know you said not to bother you and Lady Park for the time being, but there's something urgent that I need help with—"

"Woah, breathe, Wooyoung. Calm down and take a seat. Jongho, please bring us some tea," With a bow, the assistant moved to leave before halting when Seonghwa called out to him again, "Wait! On your way back, let the mistress know not to wait up for me. I have a feeling this won't be a short meeting."

"Of course, sir," the assistant replied.

Feeling guilty for getting in the way of what should have been the couple's honeymoon time, the younger man sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Gosh, I really am sorry to intrude on your alone time with your wife."

The general smiled reassuringly, shaking his head, "Please don't worry about it. It must be important for you to rush here so late. Besides, you've helped me plenty before. It's only right for me to return the favour now. Tell me, what do you need help with?"

"I know I previously declined the bonus incentives you offered, but... would it be alright for me to accept them now?"

Wooyoung hadn't fully considered the financial implications when he confidently promised to return to the Mansion of Midnight every day for the next week. It dawned on him how costly even one night there had been. He couldn't possibly ask his parents for money to be spent on a brothel. Despite it being for a noble cause, they'd have a heart attack. So, he had no choice but to seek financial assistance from Seonghwa.

I was initially going to make this into a oneshot, but that would take me too long to post and I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer than you already have! So, voila! I'm breaking this into 2 parts. The next part will be the second and final part of this spinoff.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[waynewifey]

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

[aayakashii]

Okay this is just a short 800 words fic based on the headcanons @ghoulspaw and I have talked about because the ideas were too good to leave alone 😭😭😭 I didn't know how to end it so it just ends abruptly like that sorry ✌️😗✌️

Leo was about to either set fire to Sho's food truck or just bash his head in the counter, like, immediately.

“Ew, Sho. I didn't know you could be so uncool. This is so embarrassing.” Leo said, and if his eyes could shoot out lasers and daggers, they would probably have completely pierced his pathetic friend.

“Huh?” Sho gasped, voice shaking and a whole octave higher. His face turned towards Leo, but his eyes were dead set on the person sitting on the other side of the counter, happily eating one of his signature burgers – the Honor Student.

Leo clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. If Sho was supposed to act stupid once he had a crush, he hoped at least it wouldn't be on that NPC.

He had never actually seen Sho having feelings for anyone, so this was his first time witnessing how he acted – and now Leo was rethinking his entire friendship.

“This tastes so good Sho, oh my god. I was right when I said you should charge for this because it's out of this world!” The Honor Student mumbled, cheeks stuffed with food and Leo grimaced. Is Sho really into that THING?

Sho fidgeted with the hem of his apron and fixed his bandana, unable to stay still after their compliment like a happy puppy. Disgraceful.

“Haha, yeah…” he cleared his throat “Maybe I should raise the prices a little, huh?” he teased, trying so damn hard to act nonchalant that it almost made Leo implode in second hand embarrassment.

“Well, even that wouldn't stop me from buying your food, that's how much I like it!” They said, happily chewing the last bite of their hamburguer.

Sho began to laugh, but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat again.

“You- you don't need to pay, haha…” he picked on the loose strands of his bandana.

“No no I insist! You deserve it.” They said placing the money for the food and sliding it towards Sho, who flinched when his own hand brushed against their fingers.

Leo rolled his eyes, feeling absolutely nauseated while watching them talk and giggle like middle school girls with a crush on each other.

He should have known something was very very wrong when he saw Sho carrying his helmet around and on top of it was, of all things, a freaking miniature rubber duck. He should have seen the signs. 

When he asked Sho about the toy, he had just avoided explaining himself and Leo decided to let it go – he didn't care enough about it to keep pushing. But now it all made sense! The NPC had OBVIOUSLY given it to him and he just. put it there.

Oh, no, he's a lost cause. Leo should just put him out of his misery.

After the Honor Student left, he pinched Sho's arms, hard.

“Ow! What was that for?!” Sho yelped, rubbing the now reddened skin.

“You better act on your stupid crush immediately or I will tell the NPC all about it.”

Sho's eyes widened and he scoffed.

“Crush? There's no crush. What are you talking about? Pffft.” Sho turned his back to Leo, suddenly very busy with the dirty dishes.

“PLEASE. I almost puked while I watched you two flirt.”

“Flirt? You think they were flirting with me?” Sho glanced at Leo, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“I will kill you.” Leo said, through gritted teeth.

Sho sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You have no business with this, Leo. Back off and leave me alone.”

Leo raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I have business.”

“What would that be?”

“A bet.”

Sho rolled his eyes. “Never. Not betting anything with them at stake.”

Leo pretended he was throwing up, making a loud vomit sound.

“Not you thinking you're prince charming now! Trying to defend their honor or something?”

Sho was silent while he scrubbed a plate. Leo hopped onto the counter, and pulled out his phone, tapping away mindlessly.

“It's easy, you tell them about your crush and you get me to do any favor you want for a whole week. You don't tell them and I'll spill the beans and you give me all your week's profit from the truck.”

Sho quickly turned to face Leo and huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

“What kind of bet is this?! This sounds more like a hostage situation!”

“Hey, don't forget I have contacts. I can get you any stuff you want. Even some fancy expensive wine to drink during a date with your NPC, alllll for free. And more. Who knows what kind of freaky shit they're into.” He shrugged, smiling devilishly.

Sho crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Leo. The cogs moving inside his mind were almost visible while he nibbled on his own lip, trying to weigh his options. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his hands on his face.

“Do I have a deadline?”

Leo smirked. That was so easy.

[lilacspider]

TUA should’ve ended after season 2

i am just so kriffing disappointed in this final season. i am disgusted. steve blackman has absolutely zero regard for these characters, their development, and the story. he has no respect for the ACTORS. he threw the entirety of these past three seasons in the trash in just one season. they had so much opportunity and yet he chose to make it a fetish-filled, scandalous, and completely lazy season.

all the vomitting???????? klaus being force fed marigold (which dare i say might’ve made a good storyline for him IF HE WASNT PIMPED OUT AND THEJN NESRLY BURIED ALIVE????) which in turn made him into an alcoholic???

five and lila????? they scrapped fives motivation of saving his family and keeping them together because of his LOVE FOR THEM, all SO HE COULD HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH LILA????? that is probably the biggest mischaracterization altogether. lila would never cheat on diego. they are married. THEY HAVE CHILDREN TOGETHER. it’s NORMAL to have arguments and trouble in a relationship but by no means does it mean there’s room for affairs as a result. it just makes me mad. ritu has known aidan since he was 15, like this is so nasty.

diego being the stereotypical “bad father” for lack of better words because he apparently has no consideration for his family which is NOT TRUE AND IS A HUGE MISCHARACTERIZATION!!????

luther going back to being the guy that no one really listens to because they feel he has nothing of value to offer (it wasn’t super evident but i noticed it which made me sad bc we made so much progress with his character!)???

allison becoming a single mom whose husband, RAYMOND, walked out on her??? that literally makes no sense for raymond or her, yes allison is a strong and independent character but it feels like it’s just stereotype after stereotype.

viktor becoming a womanizer and LEAVING HIS FAMILY BEHIND! all viktor has ever wanted since childhood is to be apart of his family, and they take that away this season??? makes no sense.

dont even get me started on sparrow ben. i have never liked his character he is wayyyy too much of an asshole, but your saying he can’t have common sense??? they turn him into a criminal who is contaminated by this essence that is meant to end the world and ends up making him insanely attracted to the one consistent mystery in this entire show (jennifer/the jennifer incident) and then throw away the entire plot line to just have them end the world. **and then making him and jennifer overly sexually attracted to each other was just straight up weird, where did that even come from?? i had to skip those scenes because it was so kriffing cringe.

because out of no where, abigail had a change of heart. and reginald is somehow one of the only mentally stable characters this season which is new!??? jean and gene were completely and utterly useless. they had no point, the only five i liked in this season is brisket, newspaper, drunk, and season one five. CIA five can leave.

one of the only redeemable moments of this season is the flashback of our brellies. that was good. there were other parts that i liked but that is first that comes to mind. **and the birthday party scene where they reunite. very cute and family vibes. sucks they couldn’t all be together because viktor was straight up kidnapped by some crazy.

and then the subway to different timelines. that could’ve been such a freaking awesome idea and would’ve made a great plot device IF THERE WASN’T ONLY SIX EPISODES AND SOMEONE ELSE WAS PUT IN CHARGE OF WRITING. like why are five and lila the only ones who are aware of this?? this couldn’t have been utilized earlier?? also can we talk more about how ben is an asshole, people focus too much on the attractive aspect of his character (which no offense, i see no appeal to bc the personality is just awful—NO HATE TO JUSTIN H M, he’s fantastic it’s just we did not lose brelly ben for this), like he force fed/tricked EVERYONE into consuming the janky marigold. except klaus because he’s the only smart one there. also good on him for trying maintain sobriety. but still. that is so messed up???? if he had never given anyone the marigold, everything could’ve been fine. they could’ve lived long happy lives in this timeline reggie made.

and then they had david cross, pitch perfect 2 ref, iconic man, play an irrelevant character. i’m so mad. wasted potential right there.

AND! it’s a crime that there is no family dance montage/scene like past seasons. it hurts. **oh and also there being like zero MCR songs is such a slap in the face because if the producers and directors actually listened to the fans opinions and ideas every once in a while, they would know that we’ve been hoping for an MCR song to be included as an homage/reference to Gerard Way.

and then that ending. where they just accept death???? choosing that the world is better off without them??? that is such a lazy end. if they had ten episodes and let gerard way have some sort of say in the writing/directing process, we could’ve had something so good. something so creative and fun and fulfilling. but no. they die and come back as marigolds. **which i personally really liked, out of everything this season i’m not sure why so many people hate the fact they kind of turned into flowers 😭😭 the ending sucked cause it’s so obvious it wasn’t given much thought but it was still sad and seeing the eight marigolds was sweet and gave closure in a sense. as much as it could i guess. **also, the farthest marigold is ben regardless bc brelly ben is dead and sparrow ben doesn’t really consider the brellies as his family. it is not five or klaus or whoever, it is ben. it has to be imo. the two flowers closest together are lila and diego. fight me.**

another thing, all the bad guys having a happy ending? irks me. like they were iconic, but why them and not the brellies? **(while i still agree with the idea of why couldn’t the brellies be happy too, i actually liked the fact that the main villains or side characters had completely different lives had the umbrella academy never existed. like that’s actually crazy sad and really interesting. also two things: is detective patch in that last scene? i’m not sure if she is. and second: why is grace like alive? like she would still be alive, but she was alive in the sixties, so wouldn’t she be like super old by that point in time?? why is she still young? and having kids? the inconsistency is realll)** also i liked the version of i think we’re alone now they used but i think it could’ve been better if they used the tiffany version again 😞

anyway—thank you for reading my rant because i am just so baffled by how horrible this season was. i feel so bad for the cast because even they knew that this season would not be it. that not one true fan of TUA would like it. and it’s sad because this has been such a huge part of their lives and careers as actors. so they did great with what they were given and for that they have my respect.

** signify edits i made — mostly grammatical and clairty edits, and a few of my opinions updated or added on to now that i have had time to really think about what occurred this season.

[nectardaddy]

best friend's demon - okkotsu yuuta

synopsis: is it normal to have a best friend who has a demon attached to him? is it normal that you know it's there?

cw: talk of the occult, demons/ghosts, paranormal happenings, reader is a little strange

notes: non curse au but with a spooky twist, plantonic relationship, I listened to the beetlejuice soundtrack while writing this, this idea seemed perfect for my sweet baby yuuta, og thoughts here

He's not normal. Far from it. So sick, so twisted, so naive, that it made you want to vomit. The dreadful wave of wretched emotions washing over and you succumbed to the wave and slipped under. You heaved for air, but were granted none, lungs gnashing in your chest just for the slightest bit of oxygen. You couldn't - you wouldn't. It stung, it burned, it created an overwhelming sense of dread with every breath. The air was thick and dense, dizzying as you choked under the pressure; and you wondered what in the hell could create such a powerful presence.

A pale face, with dark eyes, and dark hair was your only prognosis. Okkotsu Yuuta was the only reason why the tone of the room was flipped on its head. A foul, loathsome, choking feeling upon entering any room; he was none the wiser.

You just had to know what on earth was wrong with him.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand of the clock moved painfully slow, drifting past the face all the while the minute hand hadn't seemed to move. Your eyes glazed over, encapsulated by the fluidity of the clock hands, you had completely tuned the world out. It was an odd feeling to be so calm, so secure, without worry of the outside world - or the world beyond. You couldn't remember how long you remained like this, so enthralled by the movement and a moment of peace.

A gentle tune hung in the air, humming to yourself absentmindedly as you stared stone faced. It wasn't a specific melody, but one that you knew of, a familiarity within the soft drone from your lips. A haunting scene really. Staring into the void all the while humming appealing chords. But your musings ceased as a tightness entered your chest; blinking, and letting a sigh pass your lips, you came back to reality.

There had been a shift, a significant one, within the room you occupied. A thick, malevolent presence taking you by the throat and squeezing relentlessly. A crumbling feeling that made you feel completely overwhelmed, a crushing sensation on your shoulders as they dropped. An eerie silence replaced the soft tick of the clock, one could hear a pin drop if they chose, and your skin crawled at the sudden change.

"You're late," you breathed out, raising your voice only slightly. Eyes flickering over the vacant room, a quant study room with only a table and two chairs, you watched as the door handle swung downward. Door opening only to reveal a sorrowful expression on tired, sickly pale, features.

"I forget every time you can tell I'm here before I even open the door," the voice was frail, an almost feminine twang. "Sorry I'm late," the man gushed, giving you a sorry smile as he joined you at the table. "Today has been terrible," he added. Dark eyes finally met with your own, swirling with a peculiar emotion you could never quite put your finger on. Guilt? Hatred? Self pity?

"It's pissed off today," stating so nonchalantly it made his smile falter. "More than usual," you tagged on to which he softly groaned. "That's probably why your day is shit."

A nervous chuckle fell from the man's lips at your words, truly not knowing what to make of them. "Wonderful," he sighed. A pause fell between the pair of you, noticing all too well that the clock's repeatative tick failed to hit your ears anymore. It was worrying the amount of control whatever was attached to the man had within, its hellish claws sinking deep well beyond the veil. It wasn't normal. It was dangerous. "Do you ever get tired of it?"

His question caught you off guard, coming back from within your own mind to register what was spoken. "Huh?" You posed, furrowing your brows in confusion, "tired of what, exactly?"

"Sensing things you can't see?" He corrected, eyes looking into your own for even a hint of an answer. "I don't know how you do it," letting a sigh pass his lips once more, he leaned back into his chair. "Constantly feeling like someone is there, watching and waiting."

"I'm used to it," you shrugged. "But," you began, letting out a small breath before continuing, "your's isn't normal. Usually demons want to hurt, try to possess, or at least traumatize their benefactor. It's like it's protecting you, in a fucked up sort of way." Your explanation made his features fall, now holding a neutral expression. "I've never felt so off put by some else's attachment. It's like it doesn't want anyone around you."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It answered you. By means of the clock starting up again - it agreed with you. The notion caused your stomach to churn, flicking your eyes towards the device and turning your head to look past the man in front of you. The quick, fluid motion caused his breath to hitch in his throat, swallowing hard as he knew your reactions were never in vain. It was strange how comfortable, or rather desensitized, he was with your off putting reactions; though he was concerned with the amount you had around him.

Although nauseous from the presence, and frankly the revelation as well, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. A chilling smile, unnatural for the situation you found yourself in. "I'll be damned," you mumbled to yourself, leaving the man before you baffled and confused. "Greedy little thing, your attachment is."

"You're making that face again," he spoke with a tense chuckle. He was all too accustomed with your frantic mind, wry smiles, and dark chuckles; a familiarity he found within himself that he was absentmindedly drawn to. At first, he was well too uninformed as to why he found himself occupying your presence. But you toed the line of peculiar and macabre, as did he, and he found solace in the fact you were just as sane as him - which your sanity in itself was very thin. To him you were an absolute treasure of a comrade. A friend he wished he had sooner in his life.

"Of course I'm making this face!" You laughed, a cackle that made him sink in his chair with a small breath. He rather enjoyed your tangents about the paranormal and the occult, but being as his day was already wrecked; however, made him refrain from speaking ill of the very thing that havocked it. Slinking down in his seat as a means to make himself smaller, hoping that the entity attached to him would perhaps feel pity on him. "Yu, does it ever talk to you?" Utterly ignoring his dainty complaints and physical reaction, once you were on a roll there was no stopping.

Pale hands that once rested on the table in front of him, now moved to his lap. Grabbing at the side seam of his pants as his mind began to race, "not explicitly?" A questioning tone as his voice raised a twinge at the end. "I get weird dreams about it, but it never really talks to me."

"What kinds of dreams?" Your eyes flicked back to the man sitting at the table, finally taking in his anxiety riddled form. Far too intrigued by the clock only moments ago, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Too much?" You asked shyly, a sorry smile creeping on your features to replace your wild one, retreating from your latter statement and shoving it to the back burner of your mind.

"Too much."

Two words, simple enough, leaving your skin less prickled, a bit more oxygen filling your lungs, and the crushing weight easing its clutches on your shoulders. Was this all it took? A caring word to the man?

Was it possible to play nice with your best friend's demon?

oooooh I might make a part 2 I love this

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 9

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 4k

TW : Drugs , Vomit

Masterlist

——————————————————————

Sunday, October 25; 1:30 PM - Miller House.

I get slapped on the cheeks several times. I groan as I emerge from my heavy sleep. I start to hear voices gradually. I squint as the pain in my head intensifies. I blink to adjust to the daylight in the room.

“Damn it, Ona! What did you do?”

I'm completely lost. I can hardly make out what's happening around me. Finally, I find Mapi's eyes, looking deeply worried. Her voice betrays her concern. What could I have done to make her so panicked? I glance down at my arm, where she’s undoing a tightly wound elastic band. Realization hits me when I see the marks on my skin. I can’t show any emotion at the moment.

“She’s coming around!”

I manage to make out Miller's face. My vision is very blurry. I’m utterly confused, but I recognize his voice.

“Damn it, why did you do that?”

Mapi's eyes are filled with tears. I feel terrible seeing her like this. I try to sit up but can’t. I’m in pain all over, which is a very bad sign. I don’t remember anything. I don’t even know how I ended up here. And my headache is only getting worse. Mapi sighs as she helps me swallow some water and a pill. I’m really in trouble.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh? We need to tell your mother, damn it…”

“No!” I finally manage to speak. “N-not my mom… P-please.”

“What do you want me to do, Ona? You injected yourself, damn it,” she snaps.

“Not my mom,” I insist in a small voice. “She’ll send me to rehab. Not my mom,” I repeat. “I’d rather face Bronze.”

“Bronze?” Miller repeats. “Who’s that?”

“Her supervisor,” Mapi sighs, running her hand over her face. “Her mother sent her to a private school in Manchester.”

“Oh crap... I didn’t know. So what do we do now?”

“She didn’t want it to get out for the school’s sake, so keep it to yourself. As for what to do, I have no idea.”

“What time is it?” I manage to ask.

“It’s past 12:30.”

“My flight is at three…”

“Don’t you get that you can’t go?” Mapi snaps. “Your withdrawal symptoms will start, damn it!”

“I have to… I can’t go home. If my mom finds me like this…”

“You’ll end up in rehab, I get it,” she grumbles.

She sighs heavily. I try to think about how I ended up here, but I can’t remember. I panic. Looking around, I finally realize we’re in the bathroom. I must have really overdone it with the alcohol. I feel a deep sense of guilt and start to worry. I’m a mess. I promised Bronze I wouldn’t mess up, and now I’ve done the worst thing possible. I don’t know what’s worse, her or rehab, but I’d rather take my chances with her. I don’t want to set foot in a rehab center again. I really hope they don’t take me home. Mapi seems to be thinking, glancing at Miller.

“OK. What do you suggest, Batlle?”

Ouch, if she’s calling me by my last name, she’s really mad at me…

“My bags are already packed… We just need to get them and you drop me at the airport. I can manage for now. If the withdrawal starts, I’ll deal with it.”

“You have a two-hour flight, damn it! You’ll never make it unscathed!”

“I know my body... I’ll probably just get a fever at first, it should be manageable… Then I’ll text Alexia to have someone pick me up at the airport… I have no other choice,” I sigh.

I see the worry in her eyes. I close mine to keep thinking about my plan. It’s risky, but I can’t let her see my worry, or she’ll never let me do it.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know what’s worse, rehab or Bronze… But I think I’d rather face Bronze… She’s going to kill me, damn it.”

“Does she know about your drug problem?”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “She won’t leave me like this, but at least I’m sure she won’t send me to rehab… I hope.”

“Fine. Can you stand?”

I nod. I’m starting to regain some strength, so it should be fine. She gets up first and helps me. It’s hard, but I manage thanks to Mapi and the bathtub I was leaning against. My headache spikes as I stand, but I manage it by closing my eyes. My body feels numb. I silently hope it’s just from my position and not from the heroin.

“I’ll get your bags. Miller, get the car ready. You’re driving. And you,” she points at me. “You’re taking a good shower and changing into the clothes we prepared.”

No one dares to contradict Mapi’s organization. Everyone leaves the bathroom, giving me the space I need. I’m glad they removed all traces of drugs from the room. They must have gotten rid of it before I woke up. I shower as quickly as possible. I dress in my clothes and pack my dress and heels in the bag I brought. I don’t even bother with makeup and leave the bathroom. I go downstairs to find Miller and Bryan in the hall. They smile at me timidly.

“Are you going to be okay, Ona?” Bryan asks.

“No choice… I just have a headache for now.”

“Mapi’s waiting for us. We’d better go.”

We nod and head out to Miller’s car. We stop at my place to pick up Mapi. She says she informed Hector and Joan. My stomach knots at the thought. I’m the worst big brother ever. I didn’t even spend much time with him. I feel terrible because I promised him that if I came back, it would be for him. I can’t even say goodbye to him myself. He deserves so much better. I’m just a selfish idiot. I look out the window to hide my feelings from the others. The drive to the airport is silent. They help me check in my bags and stay with me until the end. I use the waiting time before boarding to text Alexia. I thank Miller for charging my phone a bit while I got ready. Luckily, Ale gets home earlier than me on weekends, or my whole plan would be ruined. I just write that I’d prefer someone from camp to pick me up without giving details. I really hope it’s not Bronze, even though it’s likely. I put my phone away when the intercom announces my flight. Everyone looks at me with worry, especially Mapi. I smile softly to reassure them.

“Good luck for the next few days,” she murmurs.

“It’ll be fine…”

I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more with that phrase. Probably myself. I have no idea what awaits me once I land on the other side of the country, and it scares me.

“Thanks for everything…”

I hug them one by one. I shorten the goodbyes to stop their worried looks. I join the line to board my plane. I find my seat as indicated on my ticket, and ten minutes later, the plane takes off. I’m already feeling cold, and I know it’s not the altitude causing it. Now that I’m alone, I start to worry. This flight will be the longest I’ve ever had. All I can do is pray that I sleep during these six hours.

Sunday, October 25; 6:00 PM - Manchester Airport.

Finally, I get off this endless flight. I only managed to sleep for half of the journey. I exit the plane with the other passengers, my headache worsening. Fortunately, there was a super nice flight attendant. She took care of me when I woke up and even gave me a sedative, even though she wasn’t supposed to. She must have felt sorry for me. It only worked for a short time, so I’m glad to be on solid ground now. When I reach the terminal, I look for someone familiar. Alexia replied that she passed on the message and expects an explanation. My vision blurs slightly due to the intense light, but I manage to find the person in question. I lower my head and walk timidly towards her. She doesn’t seem very happy to be here. I think I’d really have preferred to see someone else too.

“I hope you have a good excuse for cutting my weekend short, Ona.”

I don’t even dare look Bronze in the eye. Of course, they sent my supervisor. What was I thinking, hoping for someone else? I don’t hear her anymore, and strangely, she doesn’t force me to answer.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks with concern.

“I’m sorry, Bronze,” I say in a trembling voice. “I-I really messed up this time…”

I lift my head to see her frowning eyebrows. She places the back of her hand against my forehead. Her hand is cold, sending a thousand shivers through me on top of my trembling. I’ve felt frozen since leaving Barcelona. The flight attendant gave me a blanket, but it was useless. I’m really starting to feel bad.

“What did you do to end up in such a state?”

My voice is stuck because of a lump in my throat. No words come out. She sighs when I close my eyes after a dull sound. I let my emotions answer for me with an uncontrollable sob. My vision gets even blurrier as tears fill my eyes. I hate feeling so weak, I hate crying in front of someone. Especially my supervisor. I am really ashamed of my behavior and my state. I am simply ashamed of myself.

"I-I don't know how I ended up like this...," I respond in a broken voice. "I don't remember anything, I promise. Believe me, please…"

I avert my eyes. There is no chance she will believe me... I wrap my arms around myself to try to warm up. She sighs again. She must have figured out what is going on. It's not hard to understand, after all.

"At least you don't deny your addiction, that's something. Give me your bag. »

"I can carry it. »

"I'm holding back here, Ona," she warns me with a hard look. "You're not in a position to negotiate anything, so give it to me."

I am unable to argue with her, so I hand her my Eastpak bag without protest. She puts it on her back, then she surprises me by putting her hand on my back.

"Let's go. Let's not waste time before your condition worsens."

If she is angry, she hides it very well. We go to retrieve my suitcase before heading to the camp. This is the second time I find myself in her car. I had to ask her to turn off the music because of my headache. The fever keeps increasing as I feel colder and colder. My head is just resting against the seat. I tried the window, but it was moving too much for me to leave it open. I must have fallen asleep because we arrived very quickly. I slowly open my eyes, then close them immediately, groaning in displeasure when she slams the car door. My head is going to explode. She comes to open my door shortly after.

"Wake up, Ona."

"Hmm..."

"Do you need help?"

I recognize Engen's voice. I gradually wake up. When I open my eyes, I see Bronze's hair. She is unbuckling my seatbelt before standing up straight. I have aches all over my body, and I don't think it's just my position.

"Help me lift her."

"It's okay, I can do it," I say.

I try to get out of the car, but it's a complete failure. Bronze sighs and helps me with visible annoyance this time. My shaky legs don't allow me to stand on my own. I have to lean on her while finally spotting Engen in front of us. She looks visibly confused.

"What happened to her?"

"She used drugs during her stay at home."

"So what? She's young, it happens."

"It shouldn't when you're coming out of rehab," Bronze growls, holding me up as best as she can.

"Oh..."

"So, are you helping me or not?"

Bronze finally expresses her anger. I was starting to worry that she wouldn't. I prefer her to show it; at least I know what to expect. I feel my free arm being lifted and put around Engen's shoulders. My supervisor locks her car, and we head away from the camp. I don't recognize the path they are taking, but eventually, we arrive in my room. I hear Alexia's voice, but I haven't been listening for a long time. I feel myself being laid down on my bed. Bronze removes my jacket and shoes before covering me with the blanket.

"I’m cold," I muttered.

"You only have yourself to blame," Bronze scolded me. "Can you watch her while we talk to Wiegman?" she asked Alexia.

"You’re going to talk to Wiegman about this?!" Engen asked.

"What else do you suggest? We can't hide her for a week!"

"You're right," she sighed.

"Putellas, can you do it or not?"

"Yes, yes, of course! But what’s wrong with her?"

"We’ll discuss it later. Meet me in Wiegman’s office if there’s an issue, okay?"

"No problem..."

"Bronze..."

I grabbed her sleeve as best as I could, looking panicked. She turned back to me, her features tense. She was clearly holding back from yelling at me.

"I’m sorry... I- I... I didn’t..."

"It’s okay, Ona. Calm down."

She surprised me by sitting on the edge of my bed. She brushed the hair out of my eyes. Strangely, this calmed me down immediately.

"D- don’t... leave me... p- please."

"That was never my intention."

"I... Not... ag-"

"Don’t worry," she cut me off, understanding where I was going with this. "I’m going to take care of you personally to make sure you don’t do this again. Now stay calm until I get back, okay?"

She’s funny. I’m completely out of it anyway. I nodded to show I understood. She smiled before removing her hand from my cheek and standing up.

"Call someone so you’re not alone. Leah, for example," she said to Alexia. "I won’t be long."

I didn't perceive anything anymore. I couldn't keep my heavy eyes open and let myself drift off to sleep. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Alexia on her bed and Leah on my desk chair beside me.

"Well, it’s about time you came back to us, princess."

I smiled softly and tried to prop myself up against the wall behind me. I pulled the blanket up to my neck to cocoon myself. I sought warmth wherever I could, even though all I felt was cold. I started trembling again like at the airport.

"Are you going to tell us what’s going on?" Alexia asked.

"It’s complicated," I said, lowering my head.

"Bronze seems to know what’s going on with you," she snapped.

"Don’t listen to her. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to."

"I’m in withdrawal," I whispered.

"What? What did she say?" Alexia asked Leah.

"I knew you were a junkie!"

"How could you know that?" I growled.

"I grew up in bad neighborhoods," he admitted. "I guessed it after spending time with you."

"What? You do drugs?" Alexia finally understood.

"It’s more complicated than that," I said, playing with the blanket in my hands.

"You can talk to us, you know... We won’t tell anyone if you don’t want it to get out," Alexia reassured me.

"I was forced to go to rehab before coming here," I explained. "I was clean... But I don’t know what happened this weekend. I spent the evening at an old high school friend’s place... I drank, and I don’t remember anything. I would never have risked using drugs knowing I was coming back here... I- I have no desire to go through withdrawal again..."

I started having acid reflux and migraines. My head was spinning. It was getting worse. I felt like I was going to experience my worst episodes.

"Wow... And Bronze knows all about this?"

"That I’ve used before? Yes. I almost went to meet a dealer when she took me shopping. She stopped me and scolded me... I realized afterward that it was a stupid idea... I would never have used here."

I lay back down in my bed. My head was spinning uncontrollably, and it was a horrible feeling. My friends must have noticed because they kept asking how I was and if they could do anything. I managed to sit up just in time to vomit on the other side of the bed. I already heard Alexia’s remarks, but I didn’t have time to react before vomiting again.

"Damn, what do we do now?" I heard her say.

"Go get Bronze," Leah commanded. "She told you to get her if there was a problem, didn’t she? I think this qualifies."

I couldn’t stop. The door to the room closed, and I felt Leah grab my hair as the acid reflux continued. The door reopened a few moments later behind me.

"It’s okay, I’ll take over," I heard Bronze say. "Go get a wet washcloth. Preferably cold."

Leah, who had been behind me, stood up to make way for Bronze. She efficiently cleared my hair from my face and ran her fingers through it. She gathered it into a messy bun with a hair tie. She thanked Leah a second later and then placed something on my neck without warning. I gasped at the cold against my skin. I coughed to avoid choking on my own saliva mixed with the remnants of vomit. I spit it out onto the floor with Bronze’s help patting my back, then closed my eyes, appreciating the cold presence that felt surprisingly good.

"Sorry. It’s just a wet washcloth. The cold will help, you’re burning up," she said, pressing it lightly against my skin. "Feeling any better?"

She leaned forward to see me. I pushed her away to lean over the empty space, feeling another wave of nausea. I didn’t want to risk vomiting on her too. It didn’t take long before I vomited again. My stomach was already empty, so it hurt even more with the acid reflux. This was just the beginning, and I was already exhausted. I collapsed against Bronze’s shoulder. Realizing this, I tried to pull away, but she held me close. I abandoned any attempt to get out of her grasp. She flipped the washcloth to find its cool side against my burning skin. I heard noises but didn’t dare move because I was so comfortable. It was short-lived as I had to lean over again to avoid vomiting on Bronze.

"Are you sure you want to take care of her?" Engen grimaced, appearing in front of me. "She’s having quite a fit! Here, vomit into this. I’m not cleaning your mess a thousand times."

Bronze took the basin from Engen and placed it on my lap. I watched her clean my mess off the floor with a mop. I wondered how I managed to vomit so much. The last thing I had in my stomach was the alcohol from the evening.

"I really love Ona a lot," Alexia began. "I understand she needs time to... recover from... this. But I’m not sure I can handle her vomiting every day."

"Don’t worry, she won’t stay here," Bronze replied. "I need your discretion about this. Rumors must not spread."

"What do you mean, she won’t stay here?" my roommate asked.

"We’re moving her to another room to avoid suspicion."

"We need to monitor her and take turns during her withdrawal," Bronze explained. "As I said, this must not get out. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course. When are you moving her?"

"Now. Most people are in the dining hall, and you should be too."

I was glad not to see Bronze. Her sharp voice gave no option but to listen. I was the one who broke the silence by vomiting again, thankfully into the basin. I think Engen would have killed me if I had missed.

"I think that’s a very good idea. You coming, Leah?"

"Yeah. Will we be able to see her this week?"

"I don’t think so," Bronze replied.

"Okay... Will we get updates at least?"

"I’ll try, we’ll see."

"Well then... Good luck, Ona."

I would have liked to respond, but my nausea wouldn’t stop. The door closed behind my friends. The silence was immediately broken by a sigh from Bronze.

"You’ve really put me through the wringer," she complained. "You need to get up. Can you manage?"

"Hmm..." I moaned in response.

"I think we haven’t seen the worst of it yet tonight..." Engen commented.

Engen finished cleaning before we moved. I don’t know how long it took to reach my new room, but it felt like a long time. We stopped countless times so I could vomit into the basin. I was in a daze but recognized Bronze’s room when we arrived. A single bed had been added, and hers had been pushed to the back. They placed me on the new bed, and I immediately wrapped myself in the blanket. Engen put the basin on the floor so I just had to lean over to reach it.

"Thanks, you can go now. I’ll take care of her."

"So, we’re taking turns then?" Engen asked.

"Let’s see how she is tonight. If she sleeps, it won’t be necessary. I’ll call you if needed."

"Are you sure?"

I lost track, but the answer must have been positive because I heard a door close. I sank deeper into the pillow. I had never felt so weak in my life. I was trembling like a leaf. The mattress dipped behind me, and a hand came to stroke my hair. She replaced the washcloth, which startled me again.

"Why did you move me here?" I murmured.

"Wiegman wanted to send you to a center," she admitted. "I negotiated by offering to be responsible for you. Having you here makes it easier to move around and avoids attracting curious eyes because of the commotion in your room. Just remember, you owe me one."

"Thank you..."

"Your parents will be notified since I imagine you left home without telling them."

I didn’t respond. She was absolutely right anyway. I wouldn’t have come back to the camp if that had been the case. I expected Bronze to scold me, but nothing came.

"You were lucky to arrive here safely, Ona," she finally said. "Imagine if you had gotten sick before getting here?"

"I took the risk," I murmured. "I had a good hostess."

She sighed and removed her hand from my head. Her weight disappeared from behind me. I didn’t have the strength to turn and see what she was doing.

"I guess you don’t want to take a shower?"

I shook my head slightly to indicate no. I managed to shower this morning before I felt really bad.

"Change clothes either?"

I responded the same way. I should, but I didn’t feel capable of moving at all. Plus, I had no clothes with me. I thought Bronze’s clothes would fit me, but it would be weird to wear her pajamas. I finally saw her crouch in front of me with clothes in hand.

"I’m going to take a shower. Try not to choke during that time."

"Very funny," I muttered.

"I think so too," she smiled. "Let’s be clear, I expect explanations from you about this incident. Oh, and also," she added, standing up. "Don’t expect to receive any substitute medications. I’m in charge of you, and I’ve decided you’ll face your withdrawal head-on."

"Hmm."

"Try to sleep. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better."

Of course, she wasn’t going to give me anything to ease my withdrawal. It’s harder, but I prefer it that way. I don’t want to become addicted to something else instead. She left for the bathroom. I was relieved to feel my eyes getting heavy. That’s all I wanted. I wanted to sleep to escape this hell that would last a while.

[raeofsunrise]

hiii !! if it's not too much to ask could we get a peeta x reader (m or gn) and reader gets sick so peeta takes it upon himself to take care of them?? really fluffy with reassurance that reader's not a bother, cooking, baking bread, bathing reader etc. I LUVV UR WORK !

the doctor is in

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

summary: after you get sick, peeta takes it upon himself to be the person taking care of you. this can technically take place after mockingjay, but there’s no real mention of any of that so…read it however you would like

warnings: mentions of throwing up, slight bit of angst because reader feels a bit emotional

word count: 953

author’s note: neww format!! and thank you!! there is NOT enough peeta content in this world. also, it’s never too much to ask! hope you like this, i made it with lots of love ☆

waking up should be nice. comforting. especially in peeta’s arms. but that was not the case for today. why? because you woke up with a searing headache, a sore throat, and an awfully runny nose. the morning sun, which you would usually love, was doing the absolute worst for your condition.

and as much as you loved the boy with his arm around your waist, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer in this position, so you proceeded to remove his arm from your waist, and sit up.

big mistake.

because unbeknownst to you until now, this mystery illness had another symptom, which you just found out was nausea. yayyy.

you used whatever remaining strength you had left to make it to the bathroom to throw up. if the world wanted a way to make you feel worse than you already did, this was the way.

you had been doing that for what felt like hours, and then you felt your hair being pulled from your face, and an arm rubbing your back softly.

your body finally decided to give you a break from the torment, and you looked up to find none other than your beautiful, tired boyfriend; peeta.

“well, you’re up early.” he says.

you turn around to face him and give him a small, exhausted smile in response. but that was all he needed.

“you feeling okay?”

you shake your head.

“well, let’s get you cleaned up, then you can head back to the bed, alright?” he says, rubbing your arms up and down.

nodding in response, he helps you stand up and gets your toothbrush for you.

you brush your teeth as he exits the room to get something. who cares if brushing your teeth immediately after vomiting is bad for your teeth? it’s not like you were gonna stand around with the taste of your own vomit in your mouth.

you finish brushing and feel some sense of normalcy return to the morning. as you put away your toothbrush and toothpaste, peeta enters the room and ushers you to the bed. there’s an array of items on it: blankets, medicine, extra pillows, and much more.

as he gently sits you down and the bed, you try to protest and say that you can’t be sick today, that you have things to do. but before you can he cuts you off.

“shh, let me take care of you, for once. please?”

he puts a hand on your cheek, and you just can’t resist his request when you look into those precious, soft eyes of his.

“okay.” you say in a very hoarse voice. that word will probably the first and last word uttered today, since even saying it sent intense pain throughout your throat.

“oh look, they speak.” he jokingly says.

you roll your eyes before he gives you a kiss on the forehead before tucking you into the bed, and asking you how many blankets you would like and if you wanted the windows open.

the whole day was filled with forehead kisses, sweet nothings, and a lot of tissues.

and you weren’t gonna lie, the multiplied affection peeta gave you continuously throughout the day made you feel a lot better. but it also made you worried. were you burdening peeta with all your wants and needs? the idea made you feel a little more nauseous than you already were, so you decided to toss it to the side.

you thought the affection would at least dwindle down as it was nearing evening, but you were quickly corrected as you smelt the mouth-watering aroma of fresh bread waft throughout the house.

as the day went on, your voice became easier to use, so when peeta walked through the door with a delicious looking meal and a slice of fresh bread, you could finally ask him something you’d been wondering the whole day.

“are you sure i’m not a burden to you?”

he looks a bit taken aback, like the idea that you just told him was something he had never heard or thought of in his life.

he puts the tray of food down before he goes to sit on the side of the bed. he puts a hand on your cheek for the fiftieth time before speaking.

“now i know you’re really sick.”

you laugh, confusedly.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, leaning into his hand.

“it means that you’re not thinking right, because what you’re thinking is quite the opposite.” he says, with a small smile.

“are you sure? i mean, because i—“

but he puts two fingers to your mouth.

“will you let me speak?” he asks with a sweet tone that makes you melt.

“you’re important to me, and you’re obviously not feeling well. i just want to make you feel good, because that’s what you deserve. you’re always talking care of me, but sometimes i just wanna take care of you. because i love you.”

this wasn’t the first time you heard him say i love you, but all the feelings you felt when he first said it are certainly there.

he removes his fingers from your lips, and you give him a smirk that gradually turns into a big, toothy grin.

“i love you too.” you say.

he smiles before giving you an actual kiss, on the lips.

when he pulls back, you give him a soft hit on the shoulder.

“peeta! you’re gonna get sick, too!”

“then i can lay with you all day.” he says, while getting in bed and wrapping an arm around you.

“oh yeah? then who’s gonna take care of us?” you ask.

“both of us.” he replies.

“i don’t think that’s how it works, honey.”

—————

please give feedback! it’s very appreciated ☆

[brucewaynehater101]

I think that Jorogomo Tim would very much enjoy the taste of flesh, on the condition that it's fresh. Anything older than a few hours tastes sour and rotten to him. The longer it has been dead, the worse it tastes. Especially if the body has had any Post Death chemicals used on it, those make it taste rancid. As for how Bruce feels on the matter, what he told Tim was, "there are a few mourges I can set you up with for whoever you buy from. You can get them some... bodies. That are post Autopsy and Funeral, but before they're buried." Tim just nodded along, even though the mere thought of eating a body that old, treated with that many chemicals nearly made him vomit on Bruce then and there.

As for Uncle Eddie, he was just some guy who was on Death Row that Tim had Vanish and with some hair dye and colored contacts, his puppet was a new man. After all, it's not really killing if he's going to die in 12 hours anyways, right? Tim even let him have his Last Meal! When Tim didn't need him anymore, he disposed of the body by consuming it. After all, this one is fresh!

I did have a few thoughts on how he would look. The two mental references I've been using are The Spider Queen from Lego Monkie Kid and Kumoko's form in their fight against Potimus during the last episode of I Reincarnated As A Spider, So What? But with different colors of course. I just love the idea that all his legs end in sharp points and the front two can be used as weapons while he wields his staff with his human arms.

I do have a question I would like to propose that could be interesting. What about Raven? Would she be able to sense that Tim is a demon? I doubt she would call him out on it infront of the others but when they are left alone together? Does she think he was sent by her father to torment her? Does she believe him when he says he wants a normal life?

Ooh! Conceptualizing his Jorogomo form is rad! It would be cool to see fanart of this, but I'd probably have to put a TW tag for those who have arachnophobia.

I'm really glad you explained away the Uncle Eddie aspect and your descriptions for Tim's palate.

Raven and Tim interacting because of Tim's type of creature (I feel that's worded wrong but can't think of another way) would be hella nice. I hope they get over that initial misunderstanding and chat about their similarities. I'm also curious about world building aspects with Raven's father and Tim being a Jorogomo

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Mosaic

kaeya/gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, teensy angst, fluff

warning(s)!!!: hydro-vision/polearm-user reader (bc i said so), kaeya word vomits all over the place, kaeya also becomes self-aware of feelings and Dislikes that, kaeya also makes some poor choices in leu of those feelings, all is well in the end tho! he learns (and cries) (tayls is pushing the pathetic crybaby kaeya agenda and cannot be stopped)

w.count: 8.7k

synopsis: kaeya is none the wiser to the people around him and what it is they think about him- he didn't get his title of 'top candidate for grandson in law' for nothing. however, he never thought he'd get so swept up in his own feelings that when he does, he decides he has to put a stop to them no matter the cost. but can he really follow through with that?

a/n: i love when tumblr nerfs my banner quality but it's whatever. have some kaeya nonsense (fr take this away from me)

“A mosaic.” 

That was your answer to a question Paimon and the Traveler asks while you were meandering around the Favonius Library looking for a book you needed for some personal research. They had run into you there and a conversation about what some citizens of the City of Freedom embody had sprung up somehow. For example, Paimon was very set on saying that Master Diluc was a rock- set in his ways and tough to budge- and so on from there.  The ideas and objects tossed around were anywhere between insightful and downright silly. 

So, it was inevitable that eventually the trio would cycle around to the Knights. Jean was dubbed a Dandelion according to the Traveler and Lisa was crowned as an elegant bookmark that was so sharp it would cause terrible papercuts. Of course, Lisa’s object was picked ever so gracefully by Paimon even if it didn’t make much sense she was set on her answer, and nothing would change her mind. Then, when the personification of one Kaeya Alberich came around, admittingly the two Outlanders were stumped.  

Kaeya would always peruse around with such an air of mystery. Keeping important aspects of himself tucked so far away that very few people knew of his secrets- and they were tight lipped for their own reasons.  His smooth tongue aided him greatly whenever someone would ask about himself personally- spinning tales and weaving verses that got him out of any sort of personal interrogation. 

The trio knew if they asked Diluc, he’d give a short and possibly crude answer.  Jean would probably give him some illusion of not being sorted into such games and Lisa would just think you three were adorable and not give her two cents at all. You, however, thought on it for a bit longer and finally had an answer. 

“A mosaic?” Paimon mimicked, making sure her voice was kept down in the sanctuary of books. “Like the artwork?” 

“He is good looking,” Traveler pitched and it was true. Even people with aged or poor working eyes could see Kaeya was far from being an ugly man. 

“I don't see how him being a little ‘good looking’ is deserving of the title of being a piece art!” You chuckle at Paimon’s small fit of confusion. 

“Well, ignoring his looks, a mosaic is a piece of work that is made of small pieces right? It isn’t whole until it’s all put together. Just like a puzzle.” 

“So, he’s a glorified puzzle?” 

“That isn’t what I meant,” you shake your head in a small chuckle. You take a small trip to another corner of the library and run your fingers along the spines of different books before you grab one and easily slide it out of its spot on the shelf.

It’s a book on different types of art. Flipping the pages you find a page with a drawn on copy of a mosaic from another country. You lay it down on a nearby table and tap the drawing with your fingertip. 

“What I meant was the process of becoming a mosaic- how it’s created.” you trace the empty spaces of white on the page where the piece of the drawn on piece were supposed to connect to create a bigger piece. “Various pieces of work all put together to make one big picture. A series of events leading to a grand conclusion of hardwork and patience. Maybe it took a lot of time and work. Sometimes creating such a piece was so frustrating at times you wanted to give up, or maybe sometimes nothing looked right. But, by the end of it all- it couldn’t be anything but a wonderful representation of all those struggles.” 

Paimon floated in awe at your explanation and the Travelers playfully placed their hands on their hips as they looked at you. 

“You sure think highly of Kaeya, don’t you?” 

“It’s that noticeable, huh?” You chuckle a tad embarrassed. Your long-standing puppy-crush on Kaeya you’ve had since you met him wasn’t always the best hidden secret. In fact, you were almost positive that the Cavalry Captain himself knew you had a thing for him, but you were happy he never cornered you about it. 

“You’re a love-struck citizen alright,” Paimon rushed to the Traveler’s side in making slight jests at you. You shut the book you had used to try and explain your choice of object and rubbed the back of your neck as you ignore the warmth in your face. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You turn on your heel and walk back to the shelf to replace the book. Paimon had cupped a small hand around her chin before she was floating over to your side and asking you another question. 

“So, if Kaeya is a mosaic, then who’s his artist?” You look at her and blink a few times, processing what she was asking. You didn’t expect a question like that.  You cup your own chin in thought and after a moment, you laugh at being caught off guard.  

“I hadn’t thought of that.  I guess maybe Mondstadt itself? It is where all his friends and family are after all. Oh, and his job of course.” 

“That makes sense,” Paimon muses, seemingly satisfied with your answer. The conversation had moved from the shelves to the open space of the library and soon out the doors. As the three of you left, the topic of objects to people shifted to one of getting some food into Paimon’s ever empty stomach. 

The book you had previously replaced back on the shelf was easily slid back out by a hand adorning open finger gloves. Taking a relaxed seat at a nearby table, he flipped to the very page you had been on before and looked at the image himself with a small huff that twisted into a quirk of his lips. 

“How interesting,” he muses before reading the whole installment about that specific piece of art. After all, how could he not? 

The next morning was quick to roll around. After a hearty meal at the Good Hunter and pleasant good nights exchanged with the Traveler and Paimon, you were more than ready to head back home to rest. After a swift debrief on the commissions set aside for you today, you move out of the way and off to the side so you could flip through the four pages of individual commission information. 

A typical site clearing of hilicurls, a balloon transport, and two other sites said to be infested with abyss mages and mitacurls. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in the form of a heavy sigh, you roll your neck and shoulders. It looked to be a very physical day, considering the commissions alone were already enough, they were hardly close in range to each other.  

“My, what does this sunny morning lack that is making your shoulder’s slack so much,” the familiar voice of the ever lingering person on your mind spoke. Lowering your commissions and offering him a greeting smile, you watch as Kaeya marches his way down the stone steps of Mondstadt to you. 

“The weather has nothing to do with it, I'll have you know.” When he finally gets to your sides, he silently offers his hand out for your daily commission sheets. You hand them over and resume your small effort of stretching. His eyes quickly scan sheet after sheet before he’s clicking his teeth and shaking his head.  

“Having your run all the way to Stormbearer, to Windrise, down to Springvale and then back up to Wolvendom is just cruel.” The way his voice has that familiar lithe to it, you knew he only half meant what he said. 

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and run into the Traveler who can do me a favor by hitching me a ride on a Waypoint.” You quickly take your commissions back and fold them down twice before storing them away in your pack. Watching the sun’s orange morning hue fade into its daylight yellow was tell enough that you had to get moving or else you’d be rushing to get your work done. Kaeya walked you to the city gate and even across the bridge before you were ready to set off.  

This is practically routine. You weren’t sure when it started, but at some point, Kaeya had started meeting you at the Adventurer’s Guild after receiving your daily commissions and would insist on escorting you out of the city. He claimed it was on the way of his morning walk to stretch his legs, but you weren’t sure how much you believed him. You allowed him to do it anyway since it always set up a good start to your day. 

Getting a small amount of Kaeya’s time was something you would relish since you never wanted to impede on his busy schedule with the Knights. It was the small selfish part of you that wanted to capitalize on this so-called ‘alone’ time that lasted only a small piece of the day. 

“Be careful,” Kaeya always tell you and you always nod back to him a simple ‘I will’ before he would watch you disappear down the worn, dirt paths. Your first destination would be Stormbearer Mountain it appears. 

Most of Kaeya’s morning consisted of going over documents shoved on him courtesy of his position as one of the ten Captains within the knight’s ranks.  With sighs echoing in his private workspace every few minutes and multiple tempting ideas of sneaking out without even processing the paperwork, he finally finished and approved the last document before placing it in a file on his desk that Jean would surely come and snag from him later. 

Leaning back in his chair that would soon need the cushions replaced, he craned his neck to gaze out the tall window in his office.  The sun was much higher in the sky than it was when he had arrived earlier that morning.  His thoughts easily drifted to you and a frown found its way onto his lips. 

“Are you doing alright?” Kaeya delicately asked to the air of solitude around him.  You were more than capable to handle yourself.  In truth, if you weren’t already associated with the Guild and kept so busy by them, Jean probably would’ve scouted you for the Knights instead.  ‘Your skills are impressive, and the others could learn a lot from you’, that’s probably what Jean’s pitch would be. All true of course, sometimes the job of trying to train the lower ranking knights was more of a chore than a duty, once Kaeya would often get stuck with.

He'd be more than happy to spar with you instead any day.  

Steering his gaze away from the window and moving it towards the ceiling, he traced the wooden beams above him with his single visible eye. He sighed again- this time not because of his now finished paperwork. 

“Surely, they’d be in Windrise by now… right?” His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair before he was bringing his chin back down to lock onto his office door.  His paperwork was done, so maybe…

Two knocks rapped against the thick door and Kaeya’s posture straightened out of habit. A muffled ‘Captain?’ heard behind it.  He let his head sink as a small, defeated breath left his open mouth before correcting himself again. 

“You can come in,” he answered.  Guess his plans to sneak away were once again foiled. 

By the time Kaeya made it out of HQ it was already late into the afternoon.  Stretching after stepping foot out of the large entrance, he stepped down the short set of stone steps before making his way towards the front of the city.  You must be back now, or close to the city at the very least.  It had been almost the whole day, if you weren’t back yet he’d simply go on an unprompted adventure to ‘bump into you’. Luckily, there you were; standing in front of the Guild and talking to Katheryne once again. Although, the look of you was less than encouraging. 

While you yourself seemed more or less fine, just from the distance between the top set of steps by Good Hunter to you at the Adventurer's Guild Reception, he could tell your commissions had worn you out today. It was no wonder considering the distance between them. Your clothes had clearly been fixed prior to you reentering the city since the dirt and stains on them were a clear indicator that you had your fair share of roughing up. 

Kaeya can, and did mostly, dismiss this all, however.  It was the serious look on Katheryne’s face and the way yours didn't show relief after a hard day's work like it normally would be. He started making his way towards you and started catching bits of the conversion you both were having. 

“I deeply apologize, y/n, but it’s an Emergency Commission we just received.” The way Katheryne’s voice was coated in tension made Kaeya’s pace harden. When he had arrived at your side, his hand came up to rest on your back without his notice as he looked at the way you held your head in your hand like you were preventing an oncoming headache. 

“What’s the problem?” Kaeya made it a point to look at you- directing the question at you and not Katheryne. Your hand dropped and you sighed with a shake of your head before looking at him. 

“It’s nothing, just a last-minute Commission.”

“What? You just got back from your commissions, didn’t you?” 

“It’s an Emergency. I can’t just brush it off.” 

“Make someone else take it then.” 

“No one else is available.” 

“y/n.” 

“Kaeya.” 

The small verbal battle you both engaged in was empty and Kaeya knew he was playing a losing game. He let out a sigh before he finally turned to look at Katheryne who must have all the patience in the world for standing by and letting you both bicker until she was needed for something. 

“What is the commission exactly?” 

“Apparently, a Ruin Guard has been spotted near Springvale after a passing Adventurer accidentally triggered its detection sensors. The nearby residents are frightened it could march into someone’s territory and wreak havoc there.” 

Kaeya pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand- the other still mindlessly resting on your back- as he sighed.  This is indeed something that couldn’t be pushed off for someone else to take. When it comes to those old machines, who knows what could happen if they aren’t swiftly deactivated. The Captain was at an impasse; letting you go after already being exhausted from running around all day or tying you to one of the Guild’s posts and keeping you there until someone else passed by that Katheryne could snag instead. 

“Fine,” Kaeya relented.  His hand finally dropped from your back and crossed with his other arm over his chest. “I shall accompany you then.” He saw you open your mouth- probably to protest- but he didn’t let you. “Ah-ah,” he tutted at you, “no arguments. Let’s get moving.” He uncrosses his arms to grab your shoulders, spin you around and lightly push you to get your legs moving. 

Luckily, Kaeya’s vision was extra compatible with your own. While your fight styles were different, the fact you had a hydro vision was very much a blessing. It was quiet easy work taking down a Ruin Guard that had been drenched in water then subsequently frozen. After picking up a few dropped items from the timeless machine, Kaeya had stood up and placed his hands on his hips as if proud of himself. 

“Aren’t you happy I decided to tag along now? We made quick work of that Ruin Guard.” 

You can only roll your eyes at the smoothtalker.  Still, you quietly laugh at his antics all the same. Finally calling it a day in the middle of the field you had previously battled in with him, you lay down on the grass.  You were already covered in sweat, dirt and other stains from your earlier commissions, so getting a little more on your clothes wasn’t a concern. You shut your eyes and took in the breeze you silently thanked Lord Barbatos for as you took in a deep breath, letting yourself decompress. 

Kaeya stood over you, moving so his boots were on either side of your head and he was looking down at your relaxing face.  With your eyes closed, you didn’t get to see the smile that was only ever present when you weren’t looking.  The moment your eyes would open, you would only see his normal everyday grin. And open your eye did and oh how lovely they were. The evening glow did wonders for their color. 

Evening. Yes, it is getting rather late now. 

“Are you ready to head back now?” He asked and you nod. Sitting up, Kaeya offers to carry you back to the city on his back- which you decline. That didn’t stop the fact that you reentered Mondstadt securely resting on Kaeya’s back as he held you up with a slight bend to his posture and firm grip on your legs. 

This routine would continue for as long as Kaeya’s luck would allow.  He’d be the first to see you in the mornings before being the one to walk you out of the city and if he was lucky, he’d be the first to greet you back (not including Katheryn). 

If Kaeya was lucky he would greet you back into the city and spend more time at your side.  Reporting in with you to the Guild. Running a few errands like stopping by to purchase things from Blanche or getting your polearm enhanced or repaired at the smith. 

If Kaeya was lucky, he would persuade you into getting dinner with him or dropping by the Cat’s Tail for some casual TCG matches when he was off duty. 

If Kaeya was lucky, the conversation between you both would be flowing well enough that even if there was nothing left to do, he’d be privileged enough to walk you home or come inside to continue occupying your time until you fall asleep or push him out the door saying that he had to get up for work in the morning. 

Today was not Kaeya’s lucky day.  When he got up this morning, his routine to finding you was practically ingrained in his muscles and when he didn’t see you at the stone steps, city gates or the Guild’s reception, confusion crossed his brows.  He casually took a seat on one of the nearby outside stools by the Cat’s Tail and waited until the time to clock in at HQ was growing closer.  With hesitation, he got up and looked around for you once more just to see if maybe he could at least catch a glimpse of you rushing around to get a (rather late) start to the day. 

He was antsy all day and he was astonished to find out that throwing a wrench in his morning threw off his day so much. Kaeya knew that seeing you first thing in the morning was quite a lovely way to start his day, but he didn’t know the extent in which it could affect the rest of it.  Not exchanging a good morning with you or even saying his usual ‘be safe’ message at the edge of Mondstadt nagged at him.  

Currently, he was sitting in a remote corner of the Favonious library, legs crossed as his rear was sat towards the front of the seat to make up for the fact his back was bent over the back of it.  He rests a flimsy, paperback book over his face, the pages scent of old paper and ink invaded his nose and the feeling of them rubbed against his cheeks. One of his hands held it open with his thumb and pinky and the other arm was hanging uselessly at his side, his wrist bouncing against his vision from time to time just for something to interact with. 

Underneath the book, his eye was closed.  He had tried reading the passages in this particular book at least four times now, but the words just weren’t registering in his mind, so he had given up. He was left listless; certain he could easily fall asleep in this very position at any given time. Of course, it wasn’t often that Captain Kaeya would get much quiet time to himself anyways. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” The voice of Paimon made Kaeya’s eye open under the book before he was pulling it down his face enough to only reveal that one eye.  Seeing Paimon floating at the Traveler’s side made him slip the book off his face completely and shut it before setting it on the table in front of him. His posture was corrected as he sat up straighter and rolled his neck. 

“Couldn't you tell? I was reading.” 

“Paimon think’s you were slacking off.” 

“Is that what it looked like?” He jokes as he pushes his chair back and stands up properly before placing one of his hands on his hips. “I would never be caught slacking off, you wound me.” 

“We’ve heard that before,” Paimon sighs with a shake of her head.  In the moment, Kaeya is reminded of the conversation he overheard before between you and the other two. The same time of day, the same location, the same two participants of that conversation. 

“Say,” he says to gain both of their attention, “what do you think it is?” Kaeya’s exceptionally broad and unprecedented question left the two Outlanders confused. The way the Captain could almost see materialized question marks float around their heads was comical before he elaborated. “I’m asking about my artist, of course. Surely you must have your own idea, no?” 

Both Traveler and Paimon’s mouth opened in shock.  

“You were listening?!” Paimon shrieks before she is shushed by other people in the library for her volume. 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Kaeya,” Traveler tells him as they cross their arms over their chest.  Kaeya fakes a gasp before shaking his head and shrugging with his arms up. 

“Eavesdropping? Why, I’d never.” He dropped his arms back to his sides. “I was simply in the area and didn’t want to interrupt such a compelling conversation topic. That would’ve been quite rude of me, wouldn’t you agree?” The looks he received were easily brushed off. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” 

“Well,” Paimon started, “didn’t y/n say it would be Mondstadt?” 

“And? Do you agree with them?” 

“Paimon doesn’t see a reason why not,” she shrugs in the air. 

“I see,” Kaeya’s arm crosses over his chest before he’s resting his opposite elbow on it to cup his chin. His gaze shifts downward before he's blinking slowly, meaningfully. “I suppose I could give you half marks.” 

“Half marks?!” Paimon whispers. 

“What about ‘the people of Mondstadt?’” The Traveler interjects.  Kaeya’s eye shoots back to them and his hand drops from his chin to resume a casual stance. 

“That assumption is largely correct as well.” The smile he gives the two gives nothing away. It wasn’t clear if he was sincere about what he said or if he was just saying it to hear himself talk. “A mosaic is usually a large piece, yes? It would make sense for there to be multiple people taking part in such a project at some point I suppose.” 

“You suppose? You’re just running us in circles here!” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kaeya deflects with a lighthearted tone and short laugh. 

“Fine! We get it!” Paimon huffs before the conversation devolves into little to nothing until he is parting ways with the two, leaving the library and ready to end the day that seemed to have lasted longer than usual. Despite having a rather lax day, he felt lethargic. 

Yet, despite his lethargy, when he finally made it out of his day clothes and into his bed, all he could do was lay on top of his covers and stare at the ceiling. His eyepatch had been removed- just as always when he was in the confines of his home- and his long bangs covered the eye that was always so accustomed to the darkness.  One of his legs was propped up on the mattress with the other stretched out and his arms were folded behind his head. 

His mind was curious about a number of things all the time- so his racing thoughts weren’t unknown to him. Still, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind didn’t let up. Was not seeing you at all really that much of a clog in his daily life? It made him feel so off-set and that alone was enough to plant a seed of anxiety in his chest. 

Kaeya sighs to himself and his ceiling before rolling to his side and letting his bangs slip across his face and reveal his always concealed eye between the blue strands. He closes his eyes and wills his mind to stop dwelling on menial things. 

Heart and mind are difficult things to cooperate with one another though. 

Kaeya Alberich couldn’t risk getting mixed up in too many personal things- it made his future even more murky and daunting than it already was.  

After that one day of missing seeing you out before your commission, Kaeya tried to do it less on purpose. Maybe that was a message from the gods themselves that he needed to take a step back. If your very presence could affect his day to day life like it had, he needed to back off for his sake and yours. And while he didn’t see you off, he still would welcome you back any chance he saw you return to the city with a raised hand he would immediately tuck away again. 

“I didn’t do anything to make you upset, did I?” Of course, you had noticed his sudden shift in nature. 

“Of course not,” he tells you as sincerely as he could. His smile was strained on his lips and his nose felt like twitching from the sheer effort it took just to pull them up. From the unamused look you gave him at his answer, he knew you knew he wasn’t being completely truthful. Still, you just looked away from him and sighed. Kaeya was grateful you didn’t push the issue because a part of him was sure if you had, he would’ve spilled his guts about things he wasn’t sure of himself just yet. 

The process of slowly taking steps away from you wasn’t pleasant for either party. Kaeya’s days had devolved into nothing but more boring paperwork and patrols he could do with his eye closed, and that would mean seeing nothing at all. The dull lag of the daytime was boring to him with nothing to do between his job and downtime he suddenly had. The Angels Share's atmosphere was a welcome comfort to his new, unpleasant routine- though, he could do without the looks from Diluc.

Meanwhile, you had felt the sting of dejection in your chest. You had come to the assumption that maybe Kaeya had finally taken action on your unspoken feelings for him and was politely telling you to take a hike. It was logical to you; a common everyday Adventurer probably couldn’t make it work out with one of the Knights’ Captains. His previous time spent with you was probably just a hindrance, a distraction from his real work, so this was good. He could focus on what was important, protecting Mondstadt. 

Though, that mental pep talk didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Just like Kaeya, you decided to bury yourself in your work. Taking commissions on top of any other field requests. Clearing hilicurl camps wasn’t something difficult and while the occasional Abyss Mage was a pain, it was all manageable. So, when your back to back jobs kept you out of the city for days at a time, that slowly became the norm for the citizens of Mondstadt. 

It was only natural for no one to notice. 

“Has it really been that long?!” Kaeya had been passing through the central square of Mondstadt when he heard the familiar shrill of Paimon. His interest took little to be piqued and he easily strut his way over. “And no one has tried looking for them yet?” Paimon and the Traveler were stuck in a conversation with Katheryne as is the norm for them nowadays when their travels bring them back to the City of Freedom. “Oohhh,” Paimon worries, “Paimon’s worried.” 

“What’s the problem,” Kaeya interjects into the conversation. All eyes shift to him, his easy strides coming to a stop when he fully joins the group with his arms crossing over his chest. “My, what’s with all the long faces?” 

“Kaeya!” Paimon screeches. “Oh, maybe you’ll know! Have you seen y/n around?” Kaeya’s chest tightens. 

“Y/n? I’m afraid we’ve both been too wrapped up in our own duties recently. Sorry to disappoint.” The slight light of hope Paimon dawned dimmed and worry once again took over her features. The tension in his chest felt tighter, like a white-hot coil was entangling itself around his insides and replacing his ribcage. “Has something happened?” He asks slowly, making quite sure his voice doesn’t crack or waver. All his hard work to distance himself from you can’t unravel now; not when you aren’t even here. 

“We aren’t sure,” Katheryne fills in.  All eyes look to her as she repeats what she had just told the duo before Kaeya arrived. “Y/n had taken a rather dangerous commission the other day. It was a job that required them to explore and investigate some ruins that had been discovered behind a wall of rocks on Stormbearer. The commission should’ve well run its course by now, but we haven’t heard back from either the client or y/n, so some of us are beginning to worry.” 

Kaeya’s fists clenched, but no one took notice of them under his cross-armed stance. He made sure to keep his face from giving himself away. 

“Have you made the issue known to the Acting Grand Master?” He questions. Katheryne shakes her head. 

“No, we haven’t. We had had planned on bringing it to her attention if y/n still doesn’t get in touch with us by this evening.” 

“We should let Jean know right now!” Paimon insists and the Traveler easily nods in agreement. “What if they’re stuck in the ruins. Or- or hurt or something!” Paimon’s worry bleeds easily into her words like a fresh wound into water. 

“The last thing we should do is panic,” Kaeya said hypocritically. His gut felt like a boiling cauldron with panic as the main ingredient. Still, his many years of being persuasive and aloof didn’t let any of that show. 

Though, the off hand look the Traveler shot him made him doubt himself; they’ve been awfully diligent when it comes to reading him ever since his wild goose chase he sent them on not long after they arrived in Mondstadt. Or maybe it was just because they had more experience than he initially thought. Still, it almost made him squirm. 

“Well, we’re going to go tell Jean!” Paimon declared, her small hands on her hips as she bobbed up and down in the air. Kaeya just shrugs indifferently, surely not making any moves to oppose them. With a small huff, Paimon and the Traveler take off towards the Knights Headquarters. When they were well out of earshot and sight, Kaeya’s cross arms drop and his gaze moves to the ever-open gate that showed the wilds outside of Mondstadt. 

“Katheryne,” he almost whispers. “You said Stormbearer?” 

Your vision was blurred when you opened your eyes from your, albeit useless, slumber. You had long since tucked yourself between a small alcove of debris and rock in the ruins you had agreed to investigate. Had you known the person who had commissioned this job was some ruin machine-obsessed loon, you wouldn’t had agreed so easily. A couple ruin guards aren’t a big deal, but adding their mechanical brethren- so to speak- on top of a nut job maintaining them the moment you have to step away to recoup, that's when things get tricky. 

Your body had long since grown exhausted from using your Vision by excessively trying not to get killed. Luckily, the mad man only had his madness going for him, so hiding from his view was easy. Staying hidden from the machine’s censors was what worried you, but you had succeeded so far. Because of that very fact, however; you were reluctant to move. Beyond your weary body, hunger and thirst were starting to eat away at you too. 

Having been in hiding with no ample moment to even try fleeing back to the city for additional aid, you had run through what little rations you had. Your gut ached with hunger pains and your throat had never felt dryer, still you weren’t backed up against the preverbal wall so much you threw all caution to the wind. 

Your polearm had remained materialized as you kept it rested against your shoulder for ease of quick use should you require it.  Your vision had never felt heavier from its placement on your person and your hands cramped from how tightly you had gripped your weapon’s staff. You let your head fall back into the rock behind you and let out a silent sigh. 

In truth, you felt more foolish than injured or exhausted. You knew this commission sounded… odd, but you took it anyway. Anything to help distract your mind from the ever cloudy presence of Kaeya- or lack thereof. 

Your small sliver of respite you found in your cove of rock and debris was beginning to quake and crumble… literally. Your eyes you hadn’t realized had dropped back down shoot open and between the crumbling dust that threatened to get into them, you could hear the engines of machines whirring above you. You scramble to get out into the open before your previously, temporary safety could crush you. Though, coming out meant that you would be more vulnerable than you’d prefer. 

The moment your gaze lands on that familiar warm glow of the back of a Ruin Guard, you throw your polearm into its core, coating the blade with water from your Vision without much thought. The guard crackled with electricity as it malfunctioned and was brought to its metallic knees. Sprinting to its back to quickly retrieve your polearm, you made sure to use your Vision to drench its legs and feet just in case it got back up again. Perhaps the moisture would cause it to comically slip and buy you just a bit more time and maybe a chuckle or two. 

It was odd though, aside from the now jagged whirring of the jittering machine in front of you- there was nothing else. No crazed man trying to jump you or sick another random machine of his on you for whatever cause. It was in fact quiet, and that quiet put you on edge. Your brain knew you needed to stay on guard, but the silence was starting to lull your body into a false sense of security you couldn’t trust. 

Still, your mind that had been in fight mode for what should have been days now, had no chance against your weary body. Your grip on your polearm slips and the weapon clatters to the ground just before your knees did and your body slumped rather pathetically afterwards. 

‘If you fall unconscious, you’ll die’,  you mentally scold yourself. Trying to bully yourself into getting back up, keeping your eyes open, keeping your guard up. Still, your mind was beginning to feel as weak as your body. Thoughts swirled together into a mess of intangible words stuck in your mind and your sight was no better.  Perhaps it was your delirium and exhaustion, but your body suddenly grew cold and you vaguely felt goosebumps raise on your skin like winter itself had bloomed in these ruins with you. Among the changes you felt externally, you swore you heard a muffled voice too. 

Perhaps it was the mad man, the one who got you suckered into this stupid job. If it was, he could make quick work of you now since the last of your fight had disappeared taking out that Ruin Ruard core. The warmth you felt on your neck and cheek was the final thing you could mentally register before your body succumbed to its burdens.

‘Odd’, was the first thing that crossed your mind when you found yourself staring blankly up at a well maintained ceiling. You were sure that if you woke up again, and not gotten yourself killed or crushed, you’d be waking up to jagged rocks and mossy walls. So, the well furnished room you now occupied threw you for a loop- which your pounding head didn’t exactly take well. 

The room you were in was familiar, and you were sure you’ve been here before, but your foggy mind couldn’t process where you were.  The bed you were tucked into was soft and comforting, and with a wince the mattress gave when you push yourself to sit up. You were alone in the room and without much thought, you shuffle your legs out from under the blankets thrown over you to place your feet onto the floor and wobble up to your legs with the help of the bedside table acting as a- albeit less than desirable- crutch. 

The door creaking open was almost mistaken by you for the sound of your sore joints straightening out, as humorous as that was to you since you let a brief, lighthearted laugh escape you in a huff. Then, with your sights on the ground, you noticed a shadow casted by light you don't remember being in the room with you before. 

You follow the shadow along the hard floor covered with a single, purple rug until your eyes found a pair of all too familiar boots.  Your aching body starts to feel anxious- a small wave of gooseflesh running across your exposed skin at the idea of Kaeya being in your proximity for the first time in a while. Still, regardless of how you hadn’t been able to squash your silly crush on him or properly prepare yourself for a possible rejection without even confessing- you were no coward. 

With both hands tense on the bedside table, you raise your head to look at the blue haired man who had removed the fur, half-cape from his shoulder.  It was strange seeing how empty his shoulder was without the extra fluff the fur provided. Still, it was nice to see him in his entirety again since it had been a while. The blacklight of the space behind him made it difficult to see his expression since the lights in the room you had woken up in had been turned off presumably for your ease of comfort. 

“It’s been a while,” was the lamest thing that’s come out of your mouth in a while.

Of course it had been, you were both actively avoiding each other and practically the whole of Mondstadt picked up on it. Looking behind his shoulder you could only barely see corners of art pieces on the walls behind him and another rug that ran down the hall behind his heels.  “Kaeya, am I at your house?” You ask, finally realizing where you recognized your surroundings from.  

You’d been in his living room plenty of times visiting, but you had hardly been back in his room unless you were the one tasked with dragging him home from Angels Share and were generous enough to lug his body weight back to his bed. It was a rare occurrence since you were normally one to just dump him on the couch with a blanket and glass of water for his possible next morning hangover. 

Kaeya never graced you with an answer before he was marching into the room. His bootsteps seem louder than usual on his hardwood floors of his enclosed room, but maybe that was just the headache. His hands shoot out to grab your shoulders and turn you towards him, your hands that had been on the wooden night table were effectively removed from its surface and now Kaeya’s grip was the only crutch you had for balance before your brain could full calibrate standing without swaying again. 

“What on Teyvat were you thinking?!” He raised his voice and even in the dimly lit room with only light from the hall flooding in, you could easily see his expressions now. His brow was turned in a frown and his eye clouded with something you couldn’t pinpoint. It was a far cry from his normally suave and dismissive behavior. “Taking an obviously suspicious commission in ruins that hadn’t been officially investigated by the Knights? Seriously, you thought that was smart?!” 

His temper only made your headache worse and in turn soured your already not-so-great mood.  Reaching up to grab his arms like a hook for support, you verbally push back. 

“I think I'm capable of handling things myself, you know? The Guild doesn’t need the Knights’ to babysit them for every little thing, and as a member of the Guild that applies to me too!” 

“Oh yes, so capable you spontaneously disappear for days? Does that sound capable to you?” 

“It does actually because I was handling things just fine by myself, not that it makes a difference to you.” 

“You collapsed next to a Ruin Guard, y/n! What would you have done if it had restarted or if something else would have happened? Magically wake up and jump into battle again, because I have my doubts about that!” 

“What is your problem, Kayea?!” 

“You! You are my problem!” 

Astonished, you scoff before rolling your eyes.  It had been so long since you hashed it out like this with anyone, let alone Kaeya. It didn’t feel good, it made you feel sick to your stomach. Not hearing any retaliations from you, Kaeya guides you by the shoulders back against the edge of the mattress and pushes you to sit down again. You didn’t let yourself release the sigh of relief that you felt now that the weight of your own limbs was lifted- you wouldn’t give the Captain that satisfaction.

You expected him to let go of you, release your shoulders and march out of the room and maybe slam the door for good measure. Or maybe pace around the room before ordering you good enough to argue, so you would be good enough to get out of his hair. Out of the possibilities, the only thing that you predicted right was him releasing your shoulders. 

Kaeya's hands left your shoulders before sliding down your arms and dropping to the mattress edge on either side of you. You were stunned when he dropped to his knees in front of you and the pressure of his forehead resting on your knee felt heavier than anything. Caging you with his arms and using his head as an anchor on your legs he had effectively trapped you. You kept your hands tucked into each other by your stomach, making sure your knuckles wouldn’t brush even a strand of his hair and you could feel the thin strap of his eyepatch leaving an intent on your skin. 

“Kaeya,” you sighed heavily, his name leaving your lips like a weight. 

“I tried,” his muffled voice sounds weak that your gaze softens at the abrupt tone change. “I did. I tried to fix it, but my problem is still you and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re-” 

“Tell me what to do.” His words that interrupt yours cause you to furrow in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Tell me what to do,” he repeats with a strained voice. “I have so many things I need to do, choices but I- I don't want to. So, do it for me.” 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. What does all that even mean?” 

“Make me choose you,” he sighs heavily before the hands of his that were placed on the mattress beside you move to lightly grab at your shirt like he was scared to touch you further. As if you’d push him away, scorn him for his actions and inactions alike. “Because I will. I just- I need someone- you, you need to-” His sentences never finish as his breaths become uneven. The hands that grip your shirt tighten to ball the fabric in his fists now. “I’m sorry.” 

Never had you seen Kaeya, the ever debonair Calvary Captain who kept all his secrets stored into his chest, kneel and subsequently crumble like this to anyone- much less to you. Perhaps in the past he never talks about, Diluc had seen him so weak, but that would be where the witness list ends. You lift your hands from your lap and hover them over his hunched body that clung to you like a child; you were unsure if touching him would set him off or if he would recoil from you. Your silence only made his hands that ensnared your shirt tug on the fabric like an anchor keeping a ship from sailing away. 

One of your hands reach to his head and your fingertips breach the blue tresses of his hair. His shoulders tensed and you almost snatched your hand away. 

“Don’t,” he mumbled into your leg. You weren’t sure if he was saying not to touch him or not to pull away. So, you kept your hand half in his hair and unmoving. 

You yelp when the tugging on your shirt flew into a harsh yank. The back of your knees that had previously been resting snug against the edge of the mattress were now well away with the back of your thighs replacing their spot. Closer to sliding right off the bed than comfortably sitting on it, Kaeya’s arms moved to wind around your waist and his face found a new home in your stomach as your arms hovered in the arm like a puppet's dangling from unused strings. 

You could feel the weight of his words fall onto your legs by way of the tears leaving his eyes. You could feel it in the way his shoulders shake and the uneven breaths that warms your lap through his mouth.

“Kaeya,” you softly start, “what has gotten into you? I've never seen you act like this before.” You slowly lower your arms and place your palms on his shoulders gently so as to not startle him; you weren’t going to keep them in the air forever, they’re sore. 

“I’m from Khaenri’ah, you know?” His voice strains as he lets out a pathetic laugh that’s damp with a web forming in his throat. He feels your hands on his shoulders twitch and his grip around you tightens so you have no chance of running from him. 

“Kaeya, what-” 

“My father abandoned me here with the intention of using me as a spy. I’ve only ever told Diluc, but when I did a lot happened and he left, abandoning me too. I don’t care about Khaenri’ah- not anymore- Mondstadt is my home. It’s where my friends are, my brother- even if he will never accept that role again. I can’t leave Mondstadt behind.” 

“I’m sure Diluc doesn’t hate you, not like you think. He just- he’s set in his stubborn ways and isn’t good at communicating.” You decide to speak only on his mention of Diluc, since the new information of the land in which he supposedly hails was still processing in your mind. 

Your previous comparison of Diluc to a rock briefly comes to mind at the mention of his stubbornnes. You nearly laugh at the thought, but now is definitely not the time.

“Please, please, make me choose you. Tell me to, order it of me, I don’t care. Just- don’t make me live without my artist. I can’t risk that again; I can’t take being abandoned again.” 

“Artist? Kaeya, what are you talking about?” You felt like you didn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth. 

There was a bout of silence after your question and the air felt heavy. You know Kaeya heard you, but he was reluctant to answer. Odd, considering the word vomit he had already coughed up in the last several minutes since he came into the room. Your hands start to move and lightly rub his shoulders over onto his neck, silently trying to coax him into talking more. 

“I heard what you said to the Traveler.” You almost roll your eyes because that could be literally anything. Does he know how often you get the chance to actually run into them and Paimon? He is just trying to dodge the question and by habit you lightly swat at his head. A silent, ‘okay smartass’ to keep him going in the right direction. He almost scoffs into your lap for that one. “You called me a mosaic.” Oh. “You told the Traveler that ‘Mondstadt’ is my artist; they said the ‘People of Mondstadt’, but only I know who my artist truly is.” His arms around you twitch and you could almost feel a stitch of pain in your side from how long he's been effectively squeezing you. “My artist is you. It’s just you.” 

The room is engulfed in a silence that feels heavy, yet... somehow also relieving. So much time recently had been the both of you dancing around the issues neither of you wanted to confront and all it took was you getting yourself into potentially mortal danger for days on end for the truth to come out. Kaeya knew you were someone important, but he didn’t realize just how heavy your permanent absence would be to him. Just the thought of possibly finding you in those ruins dead made his throat burn and ache like swallowing a ball of thorns. 

“Kaeya.” 

“I’m not lying,” his voice was strained, filled with fear of being labeled someone worthy of nothing. 

“I wasn’t going to say you are,” the hand that had previously tapped his head now rested on his nest of blue hair. The gentle strokes of your palm against his scalp were soothing as he felt your breath move your stomach against his head. “I don't see why you would lie to me right now.”  There was no doubt in your mind that everything that came out of his mouth was the unadulterated truth. You’ve never seen the suave captain bleed such vulnerability before. 

You didn’t say anything else to him after that. You move your hands to his arms, unwinding yourself from them before pulling him pathetically up onto his own bed. Not even bothering to fix your position, you fall back onto the mattress with your feet hanging off the edge and he easily follows you. From the lighting provided from the hall, you notice his eyepatch string had loosened from all his face hiding and you take it upon yourself to tighten it- securing it back where it belongs. Your fingertips linger around its material for but a moment before sliding down to his cheek.

His eye is brimmed with tears that had stained his skin with tracks and swelling. He also wouldn’t make eye contact with you, and you roll your eyes endearingly at his childish whims. With you both laying sideways on the bed, feet and legs hanging and not even a blanket to cover up with, your thumb run over his skin. Kaeya is quick to reach for and latch his grip delicately onto your wrist to keep it there. 

“‘M sorry,” he mutters again, sounding much more shy than he did before now that his face was in view of your gaze. You smile at him, knowing there was a long and meaningful talk in the near future. 

“I know. Go to sleep.” 

“But I-” 

“Artists' orders,'' you chortle. He just scoffs and offers his own eye roll, but his cheek warms under your palm. His eye closes and he let out a deep breath before taking one back in and repeating. 

“Stay until I open my eyes again.” 

“I will.” 

And you did. 

[lyr-caelum]

I'm pissed today,

I hate having to bring up this kind of topic, because to me, this is basic common sense, and it's just respect. I guess not everyone gets the meaning of those words, so allow me to enlighten you really quick.

Its not ok, to steal ideas, works, or images from other artists.

Doesn't matter how much you like it, doesn't matter how in awe of their work you are! If you like someone's work, please support it and respect it, and if you see someone taking advantage of others' work, please tell the artist. Don't leave the artist alone feeling like someone stepped into their house and robbed them something that took them hours of work.

Sorry to break it to you-but being an artist sucks. It's hard as fuck facing a white sheet of paper and feeling the need to vomit your ideas or feelings in to it. That act brings people together, and I think it should be embraced and respected.

(and not to mention how fucking hard it is to make a living out of it, but i won't get in to that)

In my case, I share what I do for the sake of art, for sharing what brings me joy doing, but if that is not going to be treated as the gift that it is, I might stop all together.

I don't mind keeping things to myself, cause I do it first and for all for myself. So, if I see someone copying or printing my work, first you're not welcome here, and also I'll probably stop sharing.

I hope I got my point across.

[thegnomelord]

I already know what I wanna have tattooed and I'm hoping it doesn't go near any of my scars because I have sensitive skin especially in the scarred areas. It's supposed to be a tattoo dedicated to my father

Yeah I figured, it's just my asks tend to get kinda long because I vomit words where they don't belong (in someone's ask box instead of the many drafts I'm supposed to be posting)

Oh yeah that makes sense. I just remembered you mentioning how Hound was often put in a sort of ring to fight others and if he lost the winners got to do whatever they wanted to him, so I imagined like maybe someone SA'd Hound or whatnot and Makarov saw and thought it was a good idea (sorry if that was too like...unhinged ig?) cuz it would be a power imbalance thing.

Anyways, I'd like to join the cult but I think I'll stay out of the tank, I don't like water

- 🪒

Ooh that's cool! I always love it when ppl have like sentimental tattoos because all of mine will probably end up being bc I felt like it lol.

Lol do I know the feeling about that :D word vomit in my inbox is fine dude!

Nah like, SA definitely did happen to Hound, especially at the start when it was about breaking down his spirit and because he was so weak he couldn't fight back properly. I was just hesitant to say it out right bc I was still trying to figure out if I wanted to explore that topic in my writing and a bit worried if I could write it in a way that didn't sexualize or glorify rape.

After Hound broke was when the sexual aspect of their power dynamic began, before that Makarov didn't touch him mainly because he considered Hound so below him that it was disgusting for him.

Funny enough Hound getting thrown into the fight ring as Hound is worse than when it happened when he was a sergeant, bc Makarov has conditioned him to only crave his touch and anyone else touching him feels like acid on his skin. So atop the ache of displeasing Makarov enough to throw him into the pit, he's (in hound's mind) further disobeying Makarov by being so weak that others can touch him.

Also please don't join the cult, they're trying to awaken Cthulhu my fucking ex and I'd rather not see the fucker again

[stormblessed95]

Hi Stormblessed (dope name btw),

Don't know if this is the best place for this essay or the right time but I need to word-vomit this out, or I'm gonna be a JK-style spaced out zombie all day.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that a big part of the fandom tends to mis-characterize the members based on edits, fanfics and out-of-context clips. Something probably mostly to do with how social media platforms have been pushing for these short videos over the last few years. Why watch 300 hours of original content (some of which is behind a paywall) if you can get the gist of it (you think) from TikToks?

My particular point has to do with how that allows for the narrative (aka made up shit) especially around Jimin to grow. All of the members get that treatment, the maknaes worse due to their popularity, but due to how a big part of Army are also tkk shippers, Jimin is the one who's portrayal often skews more negative. The others' perceptions just are neutral or fantastical in a sense that they're more like badly written male leads. Don't get me wrong, solos throwing around bs is nothing singular to him but no one gets accused (said completely seriously btw) of sleeping his way into BTS or the release of his album.

After I saw this vitriol for the first time I had to actually sit down because wtf.

And then I started wondering why that is, and came to the conclusion that it is:

(Internalized) misogyny and sexism

Blatant homophobia

Jimin is the member the most obviously in tune of his femininity. He hasn't subscribed to gender norms for a decade at least, and once his hyper-masculine-esque persona from the debut days was dismissed, he ventured further. (That isn't to dismiss the growth they all have shown in that area.)

But antis, akgaes, Solos and shippers take that femininity and apply every stereotype and misogynistic idea to JM.

Traits they f.e. hate:

He is openly flirty with many people (members especially)

He is very physical, and touch is arguably one of his love languages and go-to way of comforting smn

He is pretty af and knows it

He's sensual and sexy and knows it

He's cute

He's sweet (aka a good fucking human)

But why does that make "them" hate him so much?

Because they have been taught that these traits in women (like themselves) are bad. What makes it worse, however, is that the men around JM all know these things to be true, acknowledge them as true and compliment him on them. In the case of JK (since this is about Jikook at the end of the day):

He loves flirty JM despite sometimes not knowing how to handle him (ehem the 'shameless convo'). He flirts back (fe the whole live where he was in bed begging for JM to come over)

Tkkers and such love pulling the "JK hates it" card. Which is nonsense, considering how he seeks JM's comfort when he's down (esp during concerts), actively cuddles JM (In The Soop) and never uses all his big muscles to shove JM but rather to just carry him around. Compare that to the jokingly disgusted face Yoongi pulls when Tae tries to hold his hand, and it becomes glaringly obvious that no one who says the members dislike touching each other has a leg to stand on. Calling it harassment goes so far beyond any line of sanity...

JK - like all of BTS - acknowledges that Jimin's beauty is simply out of this world. They are regularly stunned by his appearance

Just gonna point to JK's reaction to Filter, Blood Sweat & Tears, Black Swan, and Set Me Free pt 2 here. JK calls JM sexy so often it's hilarious

* inserts clip of absolutely WHIPPED JK after JM cutely punches him during that performance of Boy With Luv *. Also we know that "cute" his JK's type as he himself admitted.

Jimin has been Jungkook's comfort person for so long, and with such depth that he dedicated a whole trip and video to him. They care for each other so deeply that the only logical conclusion was to go to the military together.

Aka: he is all that they hate in the girls/women in their normal life so they can't do nothing but tear him down. They envy how comfortable he seems in his own skin, how easily he goes from sexy to cute, how loved he is by those around him. On top of that is how gay people are still perceived and treated by a lot of countries around the world. No matter what they say, being an army and shipping men doesn't make you automatically an ally and non-homophobic.

They treat Jimin like they would most likely treat the lgtbqia+ people in real life: something to be careful of, someone dishonest and slutty.

They conflate everything they hate about themselves and gay people and * boom * out come frankly terrifying tweets, fanfics and shit.

Contrast that with how these very same people fetishize the relationship between Tae and Jungkook - either viewing them like men who watch p_rn involving two women, or a self-insert with how little character they have - and that's the state of the army shipping community. They could be Barbie dolls getting smashed together and you wouldn't know the difference.

I'm not saying Jikookers are better in that, but the language they tend to use is incredibly different.

---

That was a lot.

To end on a sweet note: I saw a quote on Twitter "If you want to find out what someone fears losing, look at what they photograph."

And...well. that just screams Jikook

Hi! Thank you, I like my name too 🥰

And yeah, basically I agree. I think there is more to it as well, but that a lot of it could be boiled down to all this. And yeah, jikookers are just as guilty of this too, but not always in the same way. Sometimes in a way that is more fetishizing but is just as harmful. Take it from someone who has seen it all in my inbox from people who feel safe on anon 😂��

Thanks for sharing! And your quote at the end is SOOOOO cute!

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I've read your L&Ds stuff lolol AND MAN they're so accurate & super fun/engaging to read!

I really wanna know, how are you so good with coming up with ideas?? How do you write so well/how did you get started on writing?? I really want to learn how to write well!

First off I love your username 🤣 and I’m glad you find my writing fun to read I try my best to make it as pleasing as possible.

So I come up with ideas by just everyday life thinking like hmmm how would the lads men react to this or hmmm I could make this a story. I have a very active imagination and I’m a maladaptive daydreamer so that’s probably a big part of it.

I gained traction pretty fast on here so the other half (damn near the majority) of all the prompts on my blog are from 🩵my lovely followers🩵 who send in requests. You guys keep expanding my imagination and I can’t thank you enough for that 🫶🏾

How did I get started writing? My mother was an English teacher up until I was about 8 years old so she introduced me to reading and writing heavy growing up. I was always reading above my actual grade level.

I wrote my first “story” when I was in 3rd grade and I’ve been writing ever since. I’m also an avid reader; I love falling into another world through books.

That feeling I get from reading is what I translate into my writing. My writing on here is more fun and goofy than actual literature. I do write Novellas in my free time but I will probably never show them to anyone because I heavily critique my writing so much ☠️

Learning to write well is a journey and you’re always learning. I'm still learning ways to improve my writing. If you’re looking to start writing stories here’s a few tips I can give you.

‼️DISCLAIMER I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL‼️

These are just a few things I’ve learned. If you disagree that’s fine this is just what I’ve learned.

Avoid run on sentences

If you have a sentence that is getting a bit long find a stopping point and add a period. If you feel like it absolutely needs to be one sentence then break it up with a semicolon.

Break up your paragraphs

Long paragraphs with no breaks can make a reader gloss over your writing

Find your writing style

If you’re too busy trying to imitate the writing style of someone else you’ll find yourself stressed when trying to write your own work

Describe imagery

Tap into your readers imagination; describe what they’re looking at and what’s going on in great detail - build a world in your mind so you can help build one in their mind - if you have a hard time building the world in your own mind your reader will struggle as well.

Word vomit! Trust the process!

WRITE THOSE ROUGH DRAFTS - it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make any sense just get those words onto the page you can edit and revise later every piece starts rough get those rough drafts written and go from there.

Avoid repetitive sentences, words, & over explaining

For example “I reached over the fence to grab the flower that was on the other side of the fence” You see how at the beginning of the sentence it’s already been established that whatever the character is reaching for is on the other side of the fence. That’s just a quick example.

Study grammar and use a dictionary

There are many ways to describe just about anything and you don’t have to stay inside a box of simple words to do it.

Lastly, it sounds corny, but have fun.

If you want to write you should enjoy it and it’s just words on a page that you can edit and revise.

Happy Writing ✍🏾���