#even if you undergo change you’re still yourself

[apollos-boyfriend]

autistic confession. i’ve never understood the hype behind undertale’s “despite everything it’s still you” line

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

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

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

A lot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you go?”

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

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

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

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

His frown deepens. “No.” 

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

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

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

“Gift?”

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

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

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

 “Passcode?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my shield.”

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

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

You blink. “What, the photo?”

He grunts in affirmation, still staring at the screen.

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

“With what. How did it get there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut it. Open the phone.”

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

“Ready to admit defeat?” 

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

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

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

“Say you were wrong.”

“No.”

You shrug, “then I’m not fixing it.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Apps? What the fuck are apps?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking obviously.”

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

“Answer my question.”

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

“Porn? You use this for porn?”

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

“What kind of porn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes you snort. “I doubt that.”

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yogurt and toast.”

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

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

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

“What were you thinking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

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

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

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

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

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Lovely. Open your phone.” 

“Why,” he grumbles, and you shrug.

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

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

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

“A text?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We ran out.” 

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

“What about the yogurt?”

“You barely have any.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes him look up. “A hummingbird?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your phone buzzes before you can. 

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

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

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You look hot when your being annoying 

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

“That’s all you have to say?” 

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

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

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

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

You sigh, but do. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I just think it’s hilarious.”

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

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

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

“So that’s a yes?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

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

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

“I said huge fucking baby.” 

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

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

“My point still fucking stands.” 

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

“No.” 

“What if I said please.” 

“I don’t care.” 

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

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

“You don’t know that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Benjamin-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brat.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“ 

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

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

His brows raise. “Strawberries?” 

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

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

“No. Because this won’t work.” 

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

“Maybe.”

“Then get a move on.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is really annoying. Cheating is easier.

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

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

“It didn’t work,” you say flatly.

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

You sigh. “It’s only 10:30.” 

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

“You’re a fucking cunt.” 

“You love it, brat. Go again.” 

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

“Again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you do it again?” 

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

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

“What are you-“

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

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

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

“Again, that’s rude-“ 

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

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

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

“And whose fault is that?” 

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

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

“Fucking shower!” 

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not grumpy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

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

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

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

You smile softly at the screen. 

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

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

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

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

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

He scans your face. “Vanilla?” 

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was terrifying. 

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

“What if I fucked a dog?” 

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

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

“Did you fuck a dog?” 

“No, that’s just an example.” 

“Why the hell is that your example?”

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

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

“No, but that’s not the point-“ 

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you,” he winks. “Free you.” 

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

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

“Fuck you.” 

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

He does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a talent.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

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

“You dick-“ 

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

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t. Try again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t something to worry about. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’m still sor-”

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

You nod slowly. “No lies.”

“You done freaking out?”

“I wasn’t freaking out-”

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Liked it?”

“Sorry-”

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

“All of it.”

“How much.”

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

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

“In the bathroom-”

“Did you cum?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Cun-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brat.”

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

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

“Why does the whole room smell like vanilla.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucking know about cameras-“ 

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

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

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

He scowls. “Shut up.” 

“Answer my question.” 

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

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

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

“It’s the front view.” 

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

“For selfies.” 

“Selfies?” 

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

“Why would you need that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Social media?” 

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

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

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

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

“Turn the camera.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is Instagram.” 

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

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

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

“How?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if I just walk the hell away-“ 

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

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

“Candy Crush.” 

“What.” 

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

“I am not-“ 

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

“Spend money?”

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

You grin. “And I said okay.” 

“Brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charming.” 

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because She was perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunglasses?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And their fucking families, Butcher.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be pretty, huh?” 

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

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

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

“Is that a fucking yes?” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “You look very nice in your stupid suit.” 

“Nice?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gave him a flat glare. “Handsome.” 

“Say the whole thing.” 

“My compliment better blow Shakespeare out of the fucking water,” she muttered, but looked up at him with batting eyelashes and an over-sweet voice. “You look very handsome in your stupid fucking suit. Your turn.” 

Ben started to stall, because he couldn’t think of anything good enough for Her. “We should get you a suit.” 

She snorted. “I am not wearing a costume.” 

“It’s not a fucking costume, Sunshine, it’s a uniform.” 

“If I can buy a semi accurate version of it at Spirit Halloween, it’s a costume.” 

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween.” 

“It’s a costume store. Stop stalling and give me my compliment.” 

Ben sighed, scanning Her face and trying to make the Thing come up with something a little more fucking poetic than you, you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect. 

“You…” Off to a remarkably fucking shit start. “Are…” Ben was going to find it, if it was the last thing he fucking did. He was going to keep staring at Her until he figured out exactly what say that would make her face all flushed and thighs clench and heart stutter.

“I am?” 

“You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him. 

“I’m good?” She frowned at him, and for a second Ben wanted to bring her into his chest, just show Her what he’d meant. He couldn’t show her with just words, and she was frowning, and just fucking showing her would be more fun anyways. It would make Her smile, make her understand, he was goddamn sure of it. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“You’re good,” Ben repeated, shrugging and his hands fisted to stop himself from grabbing Her. “It’s pretty fucking simple. Your pretty brain should be able to figure it out.” 

“Well congratulations, you’ve stumped me. Can you please be just the tiniest bit less cryptic.” 

“You’re good.” 

“Yeah, I heard you the first two times-“

“No,” Ben said Her name, too lost in trying to make her get it to stop himself grabbing her chin. “You’re good. You’re not what these pussies say you are. You’re a lot fucking more than whatever Homelander thinks you are. You’re better and more important than any politician, supe or no. You’re good.” 

“Oh,” She whispered. “Thanks.” 

Ben’s hand was still against Her jaw, and she wasn’t pushing it away. If anything She was leaning into it, keeping Ben touching her as if she didn’t care about the useless fucking onlookers either. And She was staring at him, keeping Ben with her just by fucking looking at him, her mouth just slightly open. If he wanted Ben could move his thumb up, trace Her perfect lips, see if she’d let him push it into her- 

Someone who Ben was going to have to kill later said Her name, and she looked away. 

The Thing was so absorbed in Her, in try to get back to Her, that Ben missed the entire first half of the conversation. MM was crouching in front of Her—holding onto the seat at her side to steady himself from Butcher’s fucking terrible driving—and talking without sparing Ben a glance. 

“-Even if Butcher doesn’t tip her off, what makes you absolutely so goddamn certain Soldier Boy won’t blow his load early and screw us,” MM was hissing, and Ben scowled. 

“I never fucking blow my load early-“ 

She caught his eye, her own flaring slightly to tell him, Shut up, Pretty Boy. 

Ben grunted, but fell silent with a clenched jaw, shooting Her a look of, I don’t blow my load early. 

She rolled her eyes. Now is not even remotely the time to start measuring your dick. Let me handle this. 

Fine, Ben winked. But you’re welcome to help me measure it later. 

She kicked Ben’s shin, addressing MM. “He won’t. I’ve been working on it.” 

“You’ve been working on it?” MM scoffed. “Just because you’re all smiley and gross at each other doesn’t mean you can control this motherfucker’s PTSD.” 

“No, but my fucking healing powers mean that I can get rid of it.” 

MM blinked at Her, glancing quickly at Ben before speaking in a low tone that Ben, for one, didn’t fucking appreciate. “You've been healing him.” 

“Allegedly,” Ben muttered under his breath, and earned a dirty look. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve only blown your load once this month. So shut the fuck up.” She looked back at MM. “He can control it.” 

“It’s your ass if he can’t,” MM snapped, and She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m aware. He can.”

Both Ben and the Thing were big fans of how clear and final She said those words. Ben could control it, that was it, no room for discussion. She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.

“Do you know where we’re putting Neuman and Zoe after this?” She was still talking to MM, but Her voice had raised enough for the whole shit team to hear. “She can’t just keep being Vice President. Homelander will kill her.” 

“About that,” it was Cocksucker who answered, rubbing his hands together like an anxious pussy. “They’re going to the safe house.” 

“The safe house?” She repeated with a frown. “Like, our safe house?” 

The Thing liked Her use of our. Ben did too. He did not like where this conversation was headed. “I am not living with Head-popper and her kid.” 

“Well, I’ve got fantastic fucking news,” Butcher drawled, standing and turning as the van came to a halt. “You ain’t gonna. You two,” Butcher pointed between Ben and Her. “Will be moving.” 

“To a different safe house?” She asked, and Butcher shook his head with a snake-like grin.

“To the new FBSA HQ,” Butcher winked at Ben, and Ben wanted to sew his eye shut. “In Jersey.”

“I am not living in fucking Jersey either,” Ben snapped, and She sighed. 

“Why not a new safe house?” 

“Because.”

She snorted at Butcher’s useless fucking response. “What, does the whole CIA somehow only have one safe house?” 

“Listen,” MM grunted. “You’ll get an apartment. Just a little fuckin smaller than the house. You’ll have more freedom-“ 

“We both still won’t be able to leave the house.” She pointed out, and MM shrugged. 

“But you’ll be able to fuckin order food. Get packages delivered without texting me or Mallory about it. Have visitors. Anything you order will have to be under a fake name, and visitors will have to be approved, but it’s more than what you have now.” 

“Why now? That building was finished in January, I saw it on the news. Why move us now?” 

“Because,” Butcher crossed the van with a shrug. “We bloody said so. Now are we ready to get a move on? Time is of the essence in this shit plan.” 

“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “Hughie, can you-“ 

“On it,” Cocksucker gave Her a thumbs up, starting to tap of his little laptop. “I’ll let you know when I’m good.” 

“Thanks. Just so we’re all on the same page, Butcher, what are you doing?” 

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Watching the exit. Why am I getting fucking cold called-“ 

She ignored Butcher’s whiny bitching, and turned to Starlight. “Annie?” 

“Stay in the van, make sure the building’s clear.” 

“MM?”

“Standby to help Annie get people out.” 

“Frenchie?” 

“Fire alarm.” 

She signed at Kimiko, who responded with a smile. 

“Good,” She looked around the van, and Ben realized she hadn’t asked him. 

Because She trusts you, the Thing rumbled. She isn’t worried about you fucking it. 

“Any questions?” She asked, and when she was met with shaking heads she nodded. “Hughie?”

“We're good. Annie, do you need help-“

Starlight shook her head, taking the computer from Cocksucker. “I’ve got it.”

Cocksucker gave a small nod, and turned to Her. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Ben could hear the tap of Her fingers in the familiar pattern, her heart speeding up as she took another breath. “We’ll go first. Annie, find exits for Butcher and Kimiko, and send them fast. If Neuman sees us coming we need to have our asses covered. I’ll text when Frenchie’s good to pull the alarm.”

She stood on unsteady feet, and Ben’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her around the waist. He was rewarded with a grateful smile and Her heart slowing ever so slightly. “Ready?” 

The question was for Ben. He knew it, because She wasn’t looking anywhere but him and her voice was soft. “Fucking born for it.” 

She huffed a small laugh, dropping the sunglasses onto the bridge of her perfect nose, and Ben didn’t bother to remove his arm from her as he stood. The Pussy Brigade’s confused and judgmental stares could go suck each other off if they wanted. She gave a small gesture to Cocksucker, who left Starlight’s side to follow them out the van and into the cold alleyway. 

They were silent for a second as She took in the tall brownstone building before them. Cocksucker kept shooting them both anxious fucking pussy looks as Ben held Her against him—using his body to block her from the chills of the wind—and would look away frantically whenever Ben held his gaze. 

“Ben,” She looked up at him with sharp eyes, over the frames of her sunglasses. “You need to throw us.”

“What?” 

Ben and Cocksucker spoke in almost perfect unison, though Cocksucker’s words were more panicked in comparison to Ben’s disbelief. 

“I am not fucking throwing you,” Ben snapped Her name. 

“You have to,” She looked back at the building, pointing as she spoke. “We can’t go through the emergency exit, alarms will go off. That,” Her finger moved to the iron stairs and grates lining the building. “Is our best bet. You can jump, me and Hughie can’t.” 

“Then I’ll go first and lower the damn ladder.” 

Cocksucker nodded. “I second Soldier Boy, that’s a better plan.” 

“No,” She elbowed Ben’s ribs, shaking her head. “It’s not. That’s something people might notice. We need to leave as little a trail as possible. Ben’s going to throw us. Me first, then Hughie, then he’ll jump.” 

Ben wanted to argue—tell Her that there had to be a better idea that didn’t involve Her just being chucked into the fucking air—but She had already detangled herself from Ben, and was moving towards the building. So Ben followed, Cocksucker stumbling behind him, and stopped at Her side. 

“This is fucking stupid, Sunshine.”

“Uh huh,” She looked up at the fire escape. “Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffed, but picked Her up carefully, locking his arms firmly around her body and balancing on one leg as he propped up a knee. “Don’t die.” 

“Couldn’t if I tried. Go.” 

Ben squeezed Her slightly, then threw Her up. The half-second before she grabbed the rails—where she was suspended almost fucking cartoonishly in the sky—sucked all the air from Ben’s lungs. But She was fast, finding a grip and hauling herself onto the platform with only a small grunt that was carried away by the wind.

“All good!” She called down. “Send Hughie up.” 

Ben looked at Cocksucker, whose face was like a fucking deer about to be mauled by a wolf. 

“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea-“ 

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, walking to pick the gangly fucker up. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. And she’ll catch you.” 

“But-“ 

Ben grabbed Cocksucker under his arms and tossed him into the air with a yelp. As promised, She grabbed Cocksucker’s hand in the air, holding him steady until the little pussy got a hold on the bars himself and pulled up to Her side. Ben sighed, rolling his neck and trying to measure the jump as he backed up. 

“Ben-“ 

Her call was cut off as he lept into the air, landing pretty damn perfectly on the platform. Right in front of Her. “Yes?” He winked, tone mocking, and She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“Show off.” 

“You fucking told me to do that.” 

“Fuck you,” She turned away, and the Thing started brainstorming ways to get her back later for those words. “Hughie, what floor is Neuman on?” 

“The top one, I think.” 

“You think?” 

“I’m like 98% sure.” 

She sighed. “Then we better start climbing.” 

The walk up the stairs was silent, Her leading the way, Ben at the rear, and Cocksucker moving in small, quick steps between them. The wind was biting, howling in Ben’s ears louder and louder the closer they drew to the top, drowning out the sound of Her heartbeat. When they stopped, one level from the roof, She crouched below the window. Cocksucker followed suit, and Ben gave Her a flat look.

“I’m not-“

“Benjamin, get your ass down before I make you.” 

He glared at Her, only because this is important, and hunched to the floor.

“I’ll go in first. Ben, I’m going to have to keep my eyes on Neuman, so you need to text Butcher.” 

“I don’t have my fucking phone-“ 

She tossed it at Ben wordlessly, raising Her brows. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out. 

“Ready?” 

Ben grunted, and Cocksucker gave a barely perceptible nod. 

She exhaled through puffed lips, moving the sunglasses into her jacket as she looked at the window. “Here we fucking go.” 

Neuman’s apartment was nice. Cozy. If Ben didn’t have a fucking job to do, he’d ask for her interior decorator. Especially if he’d understood MM correctly and was going to be getting his own apartment soon. To share with Her. Their apartment. 

Would she like that carpet? The Thing was fixated on a deep blue, stupidly damn fluffy carpet thrown across Neuman’s floor. No, it’s blue. Fucking pussy color. She’d like the texture though- 

Job to do. Ben had a job to do. The Thing needed to shut the fuck up, because Ben had a job to do. 

A job that walked right into the hallway they were standing in. 

Neuman’s eyes widened, talking a stumbling step back as she yelped. “Hughie? The fuck are you doing here? In my home?” Nueman’s eyes darted to Ben, then Her. “With Soldier Boy and the Anomaly?” 

“It’s complicated,” Cocksucker rubbed his neck nervously. “You should, uh, you should get Zoe.” 

“Stay the hell away from my daughter. Whatever you’re doing here doesn’t fucking involve her.” 

“Vicki-“ 

Cocksucker’s pleading words were cut off by Her, tone firm. “Neuman, we’re not going to hurt you, or Zoe. We just need you both. Now.” 

Neuman laughed disbelievingly. “You’re not here to hurt me, but you brought Solider Boy?” 

“We’ll explain,” She answered, voice calm even as Her heart started to pick up. “But please get Zoe.” 

“Fuck no-“

“Neuman.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t pop me or Ben. You won’t pop Hughie. I swear we aren’t here to hurt you. Go get Zoe.” 

There was silence for a second, Ben could see Neuman looking around frantically, trying to find a way out where there wasn’t one, and eventually giving in. “Zo, baby? Can you come here please?” 

A girl, couldn’t be more than fucking twelve, entered the hall. “Mom, what’s-“ The kid’s words died with a gasp as she saw Ben, Cocksucker, and Her in the hall. “Mom?” 

Neuman moved the kid behind her, holding her hand with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“What is Hughie doing here, with Soldier Boy?!” The girl's voice was frantic, and Ben could hear her heart race. “And Homelander’s girlfriend? What the fuck is happening-“ 

“She’s not Homelander’s girlfriend,” Ben hissed, and She slapped Ben’s arm. 

She’s just a kid, Her glare said. And you said you’d let me do the talking. 

You’re not Homelander’s anything, Ben glared back. She should fucking know that. 

Just a kid, Ben. She gave the phone in his hand a pointed look. Text Butcher that we’re good. 

Ben scoffed, but opened the damn phone to tell Butcher that the French Prick needed to move as Neuman continued to comfort her daughter. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I can’t explain right now, but we’re going to be fine. I just need you to stay behind me.” 

“Mom-“ 

“Zoe,” Cocksucker said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, or your mom. We just need to talk.” 

“About what?” Neuman hissed. “I’d have taken a meeting, you didn’t have to resort to breaking into my home, Hughie.” 

“Well, uh-“ 

“And I fucking know you visited Stan on Monday. So don’t lie to me and say you’re not up to something-“ 

Neuman was cut off as a wailing, deafening siren rattled through the building. Turns out the French Prick moved impressively fast. Ben had barely hit send two seconds ago. 

“Ben,” She mumbled, eyes not leaving Neuman’s fearful expression. “Can you break the alarms?” 

Ben nodded with a grunt, walking to the red light above them as smashing it with his fist. That seemed to be enough, he could hear everyone’s breathing and heart again, so he returned to Her side. 

“Hughie, tell me when Annie says we’re good.” 

Cocksucker nodded, pulling out and fidgeting with his phone, and Neuman took a shaky step back. 

“Don’t try and leave, Neuman,” She said, voice tired and face bored. “I really don’t want to hurt you, so please just wait.” 

“Wait for what?! What the fuck is happening?!” 

She sighed. “As you probably figured out, we cut a deal with Edgar. He’s going to help us out, as long as we talk you and Zoe out of the game.” 

“Out of the game?” Neuman’s face twisted in determination. “You lay a hand on me, on Zoe, and I’ll blow Hughie’s brains up.” 

Cocksucker paled, “Vicki-“ 

“I phrased that poorly.” She addressed Neuman firmly, standing her ground. “We’re removing the V from your system. So you don’t have to be a part of this shit show. The CIA will keep you safe, and we’ll get what we need.” 

“No,” Neuman shook her head, taking another step back. “Fuck no. You’re not touching me, or Zoe, and whatever Stan said he’d give you I can give you as well-“ 

Neuman’s words choked him her throat as fire spread slowly along the floor. Controlled, careful flames that blocked the exits and never rose above a foot. 

“We’re not asking.” She said softly, almost fucking apologetic. “It might hurt for a second, but you’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“Um,” Cocksucker said Her name, looking up from his phone. “We’re ready.”

“I’m sorry,” She said to Neuman, and Ben knew She fucking meant it. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, her breathing was labored, and her face was full of guilt when she looked at him. “Now, Ben.” 

Ben called the drums, pulling them as fast as he fucking could into his chest, into time with his heart. It was building, growing louder and brighter, and he angled his chest at Her right before everything fell in place inside him, and the world exploded. 

The Thing roared as the bomb caught Her, even if every conscious part of Ben knew she’d be fine. She was strong, she could handle it, she’d fucking told him to hit her. But that didn’t stop the Thing from trying to climb out of him, to get to Her as she floated off the ground, surrounded in golden light and fire with her eyes shut. Ben couldn’t hear Her heart, couldn’t read her face, couldn’t give shit about Neuman trying to run or Cocksucker backing up to the window. It was just Her, burning alone, impossible to reach. Impossible to help. 

She went out. For only a second all the light died, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat again. Then Her eyes opened, fucking wild and glowing, and everything exploded. Light shot from Her chest, hitting Neuman and Zoe head on, moving through their bodies as she levitated further off the floor. Ben even fucking stumbled, because the world shook. The ground moved and everything seemed to come to a screeching halt, suspended in time as She grew brighter. Time only resumed when the light—as fast as it had appeared—died, and She collapsed to the floor. 

Ben fucking dove to catch Her, grabbing around her chest right before she hit the floor. Her eyes were open, and Ben could see the exhaustion in them, hear the slowing of Her heart as the energy drained from Her body. He heard Cocksucker run past them, checking on Nueman,  but didn’t look away from Her. 

“Ben,” Her voice was weak, breathless. “I’m fine. Make sure it worked.” 

“I’m not fucking leaving you-“

“All you have to do is turn your head, check that Neuman and Zoe are alive, and tell me,” She gave a soft laugh. “Fucking drama queen.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben muttered, but glanced over his shoulder to where Cocksucker was standing awkwardly as Zoe climbed her feet, Neuman pulling her into a hug. “They look fucking fine.”

“Okay,” She sat up slowly, not trying to leave Ben’s hold as she called over him. “Hughie, are they-“ 

“We are,” Neuman answered. “I can’t feel it. Your blood or hearts. Zo?” 

The girl’s hands moved to her face. “They’re gone.” 

Neuman nodded, and looked back at Her. Ben could hear the race of Neuman’s heart, almost smell her fear. “Now what?” 

“Butcher and Kimiko are on their way up,” Cocksucker said, glancing at his phone. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” 

“What about my life,” Neuman shook her head. “Zoe’s life-“ 

“You both wouldn’t have fucking lives if Homelander decided you weren’t useful anymore,” Ben snapped. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Neuman looked at Ben with a frown, her eyes scanning over how he was still holding Her, keeping her carefully upright. “What did Edgar offer you.” 

“Help,” Ben hissed. “And it's not your fucking problem now.” 

“We need to move,” She tugged at Ben’s shirt, voice even quieter than before. “Homelander will have noticed this, we need to go-“ 

Ben nodded roughly, and scooped Her into his arms. Ben turned to Cocksucker as She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell Butcher you pussies better fucking haul ass to get Neuman out.”

Cocksucker nodded nervously. “Um, where are you-“ 

“The van. We still have shit at the safe house, we’ll need to get it before you move us. But I’m not fucking waiting here until Butcher arrives.” Until Homelander arrives. Not when She’s about to pass out. Ben spoke the last words through gritted teeth. “I did my job. Do yours.” 

Ben didn’t wait for Cocksucker’s response, climbing back out of the window and studying the drop down the alley. He could just jump—it would be faster and they’d both be fine—but it would be loud. Crack the pavement. 

Get more unwelcome attention. 

So Ben climbed down the stairs, keeping Her secure against his chest. He jumped down from only the last platform, making sure Her hold on him was firm before did he, and moved to van in long, fast steps. He vaulted through the doors, dropping against the walls—not bothering with pointless fucking greetings to MM or Starlight—and listened to Her breathing fall, becoming slow and easy as her eyes drooped. She passed out in Ben’s arms, and he rubbed small circles on Her back because he fucking could. Because they had done it, She had done it, so Edgar would come through and she’d be safe.

It took a few minutes, but the remainder of the team—now joined by Nueman and her daughter—returned to the van. The door slammed behind them and MM took off, hightailing it away from the alley, from where Homelander would surely arrive any minute. But Ben didn’t give a shit, didn’t bother to listen to Butcher, Starlight, and Nueman talk about next steps, because She was here. Holding Ben, heartbeat in rhythm with his own.

She leaned against Ben the whole way back to the safe house. Face smushed into his chest, hair tickling Ben’s chin as she climbed up just a little closer in her sleep. Curled in his lap, a little bit of droll falling from her mouth. Ben had never seen something so fucking perfect in his life. She deserved to be like that for the rest of fucking time, comfortable and peaceful. Against Ben, if that’s what she wanted. 

Ben moved slowly, careful not to disturb Her, and pulled out his phone. 696969 was a fucking stupid passcode, but he’d noticed Her fight a giggle every time he had to enter it so it would stay like that forever. It took him a minute to find the camera app—there had to be a better way to navigate this piece of shit—but when he did he raised his free arm, holding the phone down at Her perfect face, and took a photo. It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him. 

Something of Her, forever.

End Note: My wife (Victoria Neuman) is home from war (s4 of the Boys)

Thank you guys for 100 followers!!! I want to do something but have literally no clue what. If you want to throw a snack into my writer enclosure, leave a comment with any thoughts or jokes or angry words for me about cockblocking our favorite horny idiots again. And if not just being here is always more than enough!

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@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

[erosastro]

Pick a pile💫🐣

What do you need to hear right now?

Pile 1💫

🐣Pile One, i see you might have had a falling out recently, maybe to do with friends or even someone you loved romantically. You’re undergoing a huge and necessary transformation right now. Please don’t lose hope/faith! I know you’re going through it but remember that not everyone is going to appreciate who you are and that is not on you to change their minds. Embrace who you are. If you’re feeling lost and confused, advice from spirit is to try and meditate. Stop worrying about other people now and focus on yourself, you need to take care of yourself right now.

Pile 2 💫

🐣Don’t let your past hold you back, pile 2. You’re scared of what you don’t know, but people aren’t always meant to know everything in life. If you’re experiencing something exciting or new idea, don’t put yourself down, chase after it. Be kinder to yourself as well. You need to focus on your shadow work because otherwise you’re going to act from a place of fear and ego. Establish boundaries with other people and remember not everyone is going to hurt you, not everything is going to fail, not everything turns out exactly the way you want it to either but that doesn’t mean you should stop trying.

Pile 3💫

🐣Oof this one feels really heavy. There’s a very specific message for maybe one person; if you’ve lost a child or very dear one, maybe even a miscarriage, I’m so sorry and please know spirit is with you, they are guiding you. Things will get better. And if that doesn’t apply to you, there’s still a message here for others who chose this pile. I know you want that happily ever after and I know you’ve been hurt before, I feel your pain and my heart is heavy. You give so much and only want the same in return. Don’t lose your vision. Please know the universe is making it happen for you. Don’t detach from your compassion and emotions; it’s your biggest strength to be as empathetic and kind as you are. Don’t lose yourself because you’ve been hurt.

Thank you for reading! My first pick a pile of many! Let me know what you guys think and if any of these resonate :)

[sfehvn]

sacrifices

Request: "if requests are still open (if not pls ignore) i’ve been obsessed with the idea of astarion being confronted with what tav becomes if he ascends. i picture the gang with raphael, astarion is determined to undergo the ritual, and raphael snaps his fingers to morph their strong leader into a frail, broken version of themselves. afraid of him. can he live with what his decision does to the person he loves, does that knowledge change his mind? could be something completely different tho, i’d love to hear your take on it!" A/N: I took some creative liberties because I'm still mid-Act 3, but I hope it's up to par nonetheless. I also think I totally misinterpreted the prompt now that I'm re-reading it after finishing this. I'm kinda not very brainy. (sparkle sparkle) I hope you enjoy anyways! lol Word count: 2,426 Characters: Astarion x Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

  It was as if every fibre of your being had been desecrated from its vessel within an instance. You suddenly felt the scrutiny of every eye in the room upon you; you felt naked. The strength that had bumbled in every nerve of your body had been silenced. The gravity of the situation you were in towered on slouched shoulders and you gasped at the overwhelming perception. Every position you’d been in since aboard the nautiloid ship assaulted your mind. You hadn’t died, yet the trauma that you could have knocked the air from your lungs. A veil had been lifted from your desensitized mind. You weren’t even through the thick of it, the squirming parasite behind your eye being a palpable reminder. You stared wide-eyed at the group before you, taking note of the uneasy way Shadowheart looked from you to Astarion. You tried to choke out something, anything, but instead, a terrified whimper left your lips.

  The imbalance of authority was instantly discernable. Formerly the most capable of them all reduced to a powerless husk. Astarion stares at you warily, stepping closer only for you to cower backward, all but tripping over your own feet. “Please.” You pleaded against your better judgment. You were attentive to the knowledge he would never hurt you, but there was something profound in your brain telling you to run. He was a predator and you his prey. Perhaps the security of knowing you could always defend yourself if it came down to that was always there. Without the power, without those means, you indeed were afraid.

  Realization washes over Astarion’s face as he looks at you. The tension in the room was so impenetrable that Shadowheart spoke up hesitantly. “Give her some space.” No matter how sympathetic her words are, when she touches Astarion’s arm to give him a gentle tug back, he rips his extremity from her grasp. “Astarion.” She says firmly, looking at you with sad eyes. It was unspoken; if this was what you were to be, you’d never make it.

  “Fix her, devil.” He sneers, disregarding Shadowheart to the best of his ability. Raphael chortles, a playful glint in his eye. This was all a game to him.

  “So sad, wouldn’t you agree?” Raphael muses apathetically, moving to fiddle with the ends of your hair. Your body tenses and you want to run, but you’re frozen in place by fear. “At the end of the day, we are ultimately what our bodies perceive us to be. As for Tav, it would seem she’s not the leader you lot took her for after all. A travesty really.” His eyes lock on Astarion, a giddy smile on his face at the vampire’s anger. It oozed off of him, feeding Raphael sadistic joy.

  “You will not touch her Raphael-” Before he knew what had happened, he was laid out across the floor by a flick of the devil’s hand. Despite the aching in his bones, he pushes himself back up onto his feet, ready to pounce once again. Raphael already has his hand raised, ready to knock Astarion back once again.

  This time it’s Karlach’s hand that grabs him, holding him firmly in place. “Astarion, this won’t solve anything.”

  “By the hells it won’t! So that’s it? You want to abandon her here? After all she’s done for all of us? You ungrateful bastards! She’s stuck her neck out for each one of us and you turn on her just like that? Pathetic.” Astarions spits, his body shaking from the rage bubbling within himself.

  “Of course not! We love her just as much as you, but charging nonsensically at a devil whom we cannot touch over and over again won’t fix it.” Karlach exclaims and, perhaps because it was the most emotionally driven of the group to speak up, Astarion’s body loosens in defeat. Karlach withdraws her hand cautiously.

  “As much entertainment as I’m getting from watching this debacle, I believe we’re done here for now. I trust you’ll discuss this with your little wizard friend and let him know the crown is mine and I expect to receive it as soon as it is in your possession. Upon payment, I’ll restore our precious Tav’s previous state of being. I’m glad we’re all on the same page.” Raphael sends the group off with a snap of his fingers. The spinning surroundings bring you to your knees and you squeeze your eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the sensation. Once you open your eyes, the group is back in the rented room of Elfsong. 

  A combination of the intense whirring, of everyone’s eyes on you, of your power being ripped from your body; you wretch. Your body heaves as the nausea finally subsides, Astarion is by your side, rubbing circles over your back and holding your hair loosely in his hand. Karlach has already fetched a fresh bucket of water and a stack of rags to clean the mess. Halsin, Jaheira, Wyll, Lae’Zel, and Gale look on in confusion, and you note Shadowheart gathering them together. Her voice was whispered and you couldn’t make out what was being said, but you didn’t have to be a scholar to know she was filling them in on the events that had transpired. Even Mizora was amongst them as if she was one of the same.

  The sight makes you want to wretch again but you hold back, gently pushing Astarion’s hands away from you. Your heart aches at the hurt look on his face but you just couldn’t. The power imbalance was too significant for you to handle in the moment; around any of your comrades, to be fair. However, there was something about Astarion that terrified you now. You knew it was senseless, but it couldn't be helped. “I need to be alone right now.” You manage from your raw throat. You did need to be alone; as alone as you possibly could be in the large room with nine other occupants.

  Karlach was one of the only people you allowed to stay with you as you lay in a daze on your bed. She was toweling a damp cloth over your forehead, chattering as usual. You recognized she was trying to act normal as if you hadn’t just had everything you’d ever known mangled from your very essence. You appreciated it. It was a far cry from the remainder of the party, now not bothering to hide what they were discussing as they tried to formulate next steps in the center of the room. You’d wished they wouldn’t, as selfish as it was. Though it seemed you were of some semblance of sound mind because you refrained from asking them to shut it down. They had to go on; with or without you. Astarion watched on in disgust from a corner of the room.

  Seeing you like this was destroying him, eating at his soul. He felt a fierce desire to protect you in this state, to keep you safe, yet you wouldn’t even let him near you. You were the only person who hadn’t treated him like something disposable in almost two centuries of existence. He feared that was gone. Would things get better? He yearned to hold you, to tell you everything would be okay. He hadn’t seen fear in someone’s eyes even comparable to yours since he was still a mindless slave to Cazador. Knowing that you felt that way about him struck him viscerally. He felt greedy for thinking it, but even if you didn’t become the fearless Tav you once were, he’d hoped you would eventually gain that trust with him again. Whatever the outcome, he would do what needed to be done to protect you.

  “I’m sorry but suggesting we just hand over Karsus Crown to a literal devil is insane! Have you lost your senses?” Gale shouted with conviction, throwing his hands up wildly.

  “Gale. What choice do we have? Tav has been a friend and she’d do the same for any one of us. We know what must be done.” Halsin reasons calmly in an attempt to ease the distressed wizard.

  “Well, I would bloody hope not!” Gale snaps in astonishment. “This is ludicrous!”

  Mizora pipes up and there is an air of amusement in her statement, “The bumbling one is correct. Raphael promises peace to the Nine Hells, but it is only a matter of time before he takes on other conquests. If you’d prefer the hells turn over; by all means.”

  “Come on! The lot of you have forced me into agreeance with a fiend.” Gale mutters.

  “A battle he will surely lose. Circumstantially, there’s no way the crown is powerful enough to intercept our plane.” Shadowheart reasons. 

  “Shadowheart, I have a great amount of respect for you, my friend. But you’ve no idea what you're talking about.” Gale holds a hand up dramatically in her direction.

  “She has a point.” Wyll finally offers his own input. “If our plane of existence could be overturned with the simple possession of this crown, it would have been done already, wouldn’t it? And if Raphael only wants to restore order in the hells, why not?”

  “All it would take is the correct entity. Just because something has not been done, does not mean it will never be done.” Gale sighs and there is a brief bought of silence before he continues. “Listen, Tav means just as much to me. It would pain me not to have her fight alongside us again, but-”

“Careful Gale of Waterdeep.” Astarion jeers as he approaches the group. “It would be a pity if someone had to put you in your place, but I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it. At this point, I’d think it a service to the rest of us.” 

  “Gale is right.” You declare. The group had been so engaged in conversation that they had failed to notice your approach. “I admire the lengths you guys would go to restore my power and I cherish each and every last one of you.” You shoot a small smile of reassurance at Gale, indicating that you indeed meant him too. “That being said, I recognize the need for boundaries. If this is the end of my road, well, I take pride in knowing I had the opportunity to assist our victors to the finish line.” You attempt a laugh, but it just sounds sad. You clear your throat. “Raphael cannot come into possession of this crown. I hope you all can respect my wishes.”

  Astarion wants to shake you, to tell you how foolish you were being. Had you really lost all of your senses when Raphael had stripped you of your power? “You will die, Tav. Do you not understand that? Without the means to protect yourself, you will die!” His shouting caused you to flinch and he instantly regretted it. The group sat in a paralyzed silence as they watched you two, not daring to interrupt Astarion in this state. “I will not lose the first thing I’ve loved in over two hundred years.” Tears threatened his ruby-red eyes, and he fought them back, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he’d made himself amongst the party.

  “I know, Star.” You finally choke out after a lull of silence. You look away from him quickly and Karlach ushers you back to your bed. Astarion looks around the group with narrowed eyes as they disband to make their way to their collective beds. Why wasn’t anyone arguing this? How could they be so comfortable sentencing you to your death?

  Astarion stared up at the ceiling of the inn that night, unable to slip into his meditative state. Instead, he tried to grasp at the idea of you simply not existing—the months you had spent together that had felt like the entirety of his life left to mean nothing. It was tragic, just like the rest of his life. Of course someone like him couldn’t have a simple, happy ending. Why wouldn’t the very thing that kept him going be destined for death?

  His eyes open at the sound of approaching footsteps and your distinctive scent welcomingly floods his senses. He looks over to see you approaching his bed timidly as if you were uncertain about the action. “I don't,” you paused, fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t think I can sleep without you, Star.” You two hadn’t spent a night in separate beds since he had confessed his true feelings for you. The admission made his heart swell with hope and he shifts wordlessly, making room for you on the small bed beside him. He holds open the blanket for you, and you climb in. 

  He hears your heart slowing to a calm pace. The emotions were too overwhelming for you to comprehend. You had a newfound fear of the vampire, but your body craved his. Not just sexually, but it longed to be near him. It was as if it needed him to function properly. Astarion felt it too. It was like a missing piece of himself had returned to him, even if this moment was fleeting; he would hold you for as long as you let him, and he would wait for you to return when you were ready.

  There was one thing he was sure of. If you met your demise, so would Astarion. The time of only seeking power and authority was over for him. If he could, he would lay in this bed with you until you both withered to nothing. He did not want to outlive you in any sense of the word. He made a silent vow always to protect and keep you alive along with him. It was implicitly clear what he would be doing. The ascension had to be done, if only so you could live to see this through. The power and glory not even a last thought in his decision. He’d do this for you—the many conversations the two of you shared about the ritual flitted through his mind. You’d always been so careful of his wants while expressing apprehension about him going through with it. You’d convinced him, too. He was set that it was not what he wanted. He had been blinded by the splendor of it all. Things were different now. You would no longer be able to keep yourself alive; but he could.

“I love you, Tav.” He whispers.

“I love you, too, Star. More than air.” You murmured into his chest.

[mykoreanlove]

Artist’s pov

It was late, it had to be.

You stood in front of your oval bathroom mirror doing your skincare, the last part of your going to bed routine. You wanted nothing more than falling asleep in your boyfriend’s arms after another long and exhausting day, but being a woman required a bit of work at times.

As you pondered the fancy creams and expensive serums into your face you noticed your boyfriend watching you. Hyunjin loved spending time with you, even if it meant just being in the same room as you. He was leaning comfortably against the counter. His dark hair was tied up into a bun, he was wearing a matching dark sweater and accentuated his look with his golden glasses which he did not need but liked to wear anyway.

He watched you cautiously, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. His gaze was intense, yet curious and complimented the small smile on his plush lips.

“Jinnie, why are you watching me?” You spoke to his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled silently. “How can I not watch you? You’re beautiful, darling.”

You brushed his sweet compliment off by laughing awkwardly. “Yeah right, the bags under my eyes and wrinkles on my face scream beauty.”

The look on his face abruptly changed as he realized what you had just said. He got up and walked right over to you. Even after being with him for some time it was still challenging to withstand his demeanor. His musky scent and seductive aura had you intoxicated without him even trying. You tried turning your head to get a proper look at him but Hyunjin held you in place and whispered into your ear.

“I don’t want you to say that ever again. Do you hear me?”

Hyunjin looked into your eyes in the reflection of the mirror and whispered barely audibly. “Look at yourself. Look how beautiful your features are. You are so used to them that you don’t even recognize them anymore, darling.”

You darted your eyes away from his and started observing your own features. Not everything was bad about yourself, but it was hard noticing anything but flaws lately. Most times you only saw your aging face and the changes your body was undergoing. Wrinkles, creases, sagging skin – it felt like youth was running from you and you tried your best to catch up. You really wanted to love yourself the way he loved you but that wasn’t an easy feat. Not only did you feel ashamed about the way you looked, but also about not being able to love yourself. Those feelings weighed heavy on your heart, no matter how hard you tried to conceive them.

Hyunjin watched you watching yourself and frowned, very well aware that you were not seeing yourself as he was seeing you.

„Y/N“, he placed a sweet kiss on your neck, „look at me, please.“

His kiss brought you out of your head and back to reality – a reality in which this beautiful man was head over heels in love with you. It took you a second to concentrate on his words as his touch alone let you drift off to your bedroom instantly. You faced him in the mirror and he smiled coyly. “Good girl.”

He was still standing behind you, his strong arms on both of your sides, his head tilted and resting on your shoulder.

“You are so precious to me. It baffles me how you cannot comprehend your own beauty, y/n. When I look at you, I only see love. And strength. I see beauty and grace. I see so much life in you, I can’t help but falling in love with my gorgeous muse over and over again.”

You started choking up. No one had ever said those words to you. No one had ever seen you like that, especially not someone as perfect as Hyunjin. He took your small hands into his and placed them over your tummy – squeezing them lightly. You watched him place kisses all over your neck, making eye contact after each one. You relaxed more into his touch – you allowed yourself to receive the love he was offering.

Hyunjin noticed this too and spun you around. Your fingers intertwined, foreheads resting against each other, breath synchronized. You felt close to him - not only physically, but emotionally.

„Oh and also, the bags under your eyes?“, he leaned back as he spoke to you, „proof of your hard work. You work so hard to achieve your dreams and I like that. Your ambition is very sexy, darling.“

You wanted to smile but broke into a heartfelt laughter as he placed kisses under your eyes.

He also giggled. „Stop laughing, I can’t kiss you properly. Wait no, forget that. I love your laugh. I love how much you do it - you always find humor in any situation. It‘s…”. He stumbled for words. “It’s so easy to be with you, y/n. You make me so happy. You make me feel light and carefree. I love going through life like that and I don’t want you to ever change. Let those wrinkles be the proof of a life spent in joy.”

He traced the fine lines on your face and smiled sincerely. You believed his every word, knowing he meant what he said. You grabbed his right hand and placed a fond kiss on it, thanking him.

He looked at you confused. “What are you thanking me for, darling?”

Now it was your time to chuckle and place sweet kisses on top of him. “Thank you for loving me when I’m not able to.”

[thelastofhyde]

prologue. rome.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. like all epic love stories, this one starts with a meet-(un)cute. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. i’m pretty sure there’s no warnings this chapter. word count. 845. hyde’s input. & so it begins! my goal is to try post a chapter every other friday, but it may be weekly if i write + edit on time. likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 next chapter - series masterlist

Under the buzz of a dying light, you assess the damage.

Tousled hair, smudged mascara, bags under your eyes. Chapped lips, wrinkled clothing, a missing earring. Nail indentations, dry hands, a bruise on your knee.

You'd call yourself a mess, had you not been travelling at full-speed in the air, trapped inside an overgrown Pringles can that grew wings, for the past who-knows-how-many hours.

With a snoring seat-neighbour, a kid kicking at the back of you and the embarrassing sting of tears in your eyes, you'd not known peace until the plane had landed on solid ground. And, even then, the nightmare had picked right back up where it had left off, shapeshifting into a mile long customs queue and the overwhelming dread of watching the conveyor belt spin round and round with not a single sign of your suitcase.

It took a whole hour and speaking to an airport staff member later for them to find your case, right down the other end of the arrivals hall, sitting amongst luggage from a destination you'd certainly not arrived from.

But none of that matters, not now. At least you tell yourself that as you splash some cold water on your face. Looking back in the mirror, you try out a smile. It doesn't look genuine, but it's been a little harder to do recently, and so you give yourself credit for managing to at least have it meet your eyes.

There's a series of disgruntled, irritated faces that greet you as you exit the bathroom. You walk past them, head down, trying to count the beat in your footsteps and feel the roll of your suitcase's wheels.

Finding the signs that point to the arrival gate, you keep a low profile, as if anyone would know you here. Why would anybody know you here? Still, the need to stay hidden, out of sight, it intensifies, even as you take in the welcoming sign above sliding doors.

Buongiorno, benvenuto in Italia!

An overwhelming wave of loneliness hits you as you take your first step past the sliding doors, the usual hustle and bustle of an arrival's lounge greeting you. Couples embracing in reunion, families excitedly catching up on all that they've missed, strangers meeting for the first time, men in suits holding up signs with names and-

A different kind of wave hits you, physically, and suddenly you're on all fours, the sound of your knees smacking harshly into the marble floor taunting you with yet another bruise that'll be making a cameo in every picture you’ll take.

The world continues to pass you by, even as you juggle turmoil and pain. It’s a feat you’re trying to grow used to, but, for now, all you can manage is to not feel your stomach knot. You straighten your back, hands off the floor and your weight resting back against your knees. Pull a deep breath in, ignoring the tremble in your lower lip. In a moment of pure desperation, you wonder what more awaits you on this holiday from hell.

An awful flight, a lost-luggage scare, several bruises and now a public humiliation. What’s next?

You’re plucked up from where you sit, strong hands taking a gentle grip of your forearm. A simple tug and you obey the stranger’s signal, shifting to stand up straight. Turning on your heel to face your rescuer, you’re met with the back of a head, dark locks adorning it as the man reaches back down to grasp at your suitcase’s handle.

The man’s face is revealed slowly, undeliberately, as he rises to level once more, steadying your case back onto its wheels. Handsome, you notice the etching of laugh lines around his eyes and the peppering of patchy, yet fitting, facial hair along his jaw. A pair of headphones, big and chunky and sporting a wire, rest on the back of his neck and the strap of a backpack rests over his right shoulder.

You notice you’re staring a little too late, when there’s already a frown line splitting the skin of his forehead. Clear your throat, take back control of your suitcase and your senses.

Raised with manners, you rather clumsily thrust out your hand for the man to shake. “Thank you for your help, I appreciate it. So much. I'm-"

"You're in the way."

There’s no time to respond, not properly, as the man side-steps you with a grunt, his shoulder catching yours as he passes by. He doesn’t stop to apologise, simply readjusting the sliding strap of his bag and continuing his stride out into the sea of awaiting people.

Involuntarily, frozen where you stand, your eyes follow him as he comes to a stop in front of a uniformed man, a printed sign in his hand.

Signore Miller.

As you scan the crowd for your own name, spotting a casually dressed older gentleman carrying it upon scribbled cardboard, you repeat that name, over and over.

Miller, Miller, Miller.

Whoever the rude man may be, you pray for all those who cross his path on his trip.

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER FIVE : I don’t want to know more about you. (But I want to…)

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Chapter Four link is here.

Pairing : Sub-Zero / Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : Nearly a month has passed since you first joined the Lin Kuei, and as you spend time with Bi-Han, you started to realize some things about him and also about yourself.

.

.

.

15 years ago…

“May I join you too?”

It had been a few months since you turned eight, and there were a few other kids close to your age in the clan. When you weren’t undergoing martial arts training, you still attended noble womanly pursuits, as deemed by your father. The time you could spend by yourself was so limited that, at times fatigue seemed to permeate every moment.

Fortunately, there was an exception today. Your teacher, responsible for teaching etiquette, fell ill. Upon discovering that your afternoon would be unoccupied, you pondered how to fill the empty space. The last time you had such wide-open time, the wound in your throat had yet to heal. You spent those days in your room, drawing pictures, reading books your mother brought you, and indulging in the very activity your father despised the most: daydreaming.

Your father was a man who was firmly attached to a sense of reality. He was an idealist, he believed in reality, not dreams. He always talked about how daydreaming distorts the perception of reality, disconnects from goals and leads to the wrong path, so he never wanted any of his children to dream.

However, since your powers were discovered, you were left alone and as you relied more on your umbrakinesis, this isolation also fueled your imagination. Reality often brought pain, while in your own dream world, you felt safer and happier. No one could harm you there, everything followed your control and will.

But since your father changed his mind and decided that you should take martial art training with the others, you haven’t even had time to think properly, let alone dream. The moment your head touched the pillow, you were falling into a deep sleep. You couldn’t even have your nightmares as usual because of the fatigue. The rigorous training left you so physically exhausted that not even your subconscious could conjure the haunting visions that usually plagued your sleep.

It had been two and a half years since the wound on your throat had healed. Given the intense pace of the past two and a half years, it was quite normal for you to feel stunned now, unsure of what to do.

As three children argued about who should be the next “it,” all turned their heads, looking at you with distant eyes when you posed the question.

Unsettled by the prolonged silence, you attempted to ease the tension with a friendly smile. Being the grandmaster’s daughter had always created a distance between you and others in the clan. Here was no exception.

“I suppose you’re playing hide and seek. I really like this game!” you exclaimed cheerfully. The tallest boy among them—Wang, you recalled—squinted his eyes suspiciously and crossed his arms.

“Wherever the shadows touch, you will find us immediately. How do we know if you’re going to cheat or not?” he questioned.

“Yes!” added another. “We can’t trust you!’’

Panic immediately entered your voice.

‘’No, no! I wouldn’t do that. I promise you! My mother has always advised me to be on the side of honesty.”

As the silence lingered once again, a familiar sense of discomfort and exclusion enveloped you. When would you truly become a part of the clan? The first time you vocalized this thought to your mother, she grew angry, instructing you to banish such ideas. In her eyes, you already held a respectable place as the grandmaster’s daughter. Yet, both of you acknowledged the truth—the assassination attempt being the clearest example.

“Let’s let her play the first round. If we see you cheating, you can’t play with us, okay?” the last boy spoke, taking charge in a way that indicated he was the leader of this small group.

The chance given to you filled your heart with excitement and happiness, a broad smile adorning your face. It felt unexpectedly easy. In the past, with your brothers you’d beg to be part of the game, enduring insults, hair-pulling, and tripping that left you bleeding. However, you had outgrown such pleas, tired of the mistreatment.

“All right! Shall I start counting?” you said, eager to begin.

“Put your face against that oak tree,” the leader directed, pointing to the sizable trunk nearby. “We can’t afford for you to peek.”

Nodding eagerly, you placed your hands against the rough bark of the tree, burying your head between them. Your cheeks turned a rosy hue with anticipation as you felt the rough texture beneath your fingers.

“Count to thirty!”

As you counted aloud, the distant echoes of footsteps retreated on the dew-kissed grass. When you reached thirty, you excitedly turned around, carefully observing the surroundings. Despite the bright weather and the sun overhead, the residual chill in the air left it a bit muddy, marking the arrival of spring.

Moving forward with small, cautious steps, you searched every bush, tree, and nook and cranny in your field of vision, being careful not to make too much noise and disturb the serene atmosphere.

“(y/n), what are you doing?”

At the unexpected sound of your father’s deep, resonant voice you froze in place. Fear misfired through your heart, giving you the strength to turn around and face him. He stood a little away, observing you with his usual cold gaze. Although accustomed to that look, his power over you was evident. Your father’s imposing presence always scared you, making you nervous and timid.

It seemed the only way to please him was to stand next to him, as if you were a trinket without breathing.

“I-I was playing hide and seek.” you said in a voice that was barely audible. When your father’s eyebrows furrowed against your answer, it felt like your heart might stop beating right there.

“What happened to today’s lesson?” As your father approached, his presence seemed to crush the world around you. Unable to answer, your lower jaw trembled with fear, and your tongue felt heavy inside your mouth. His dominant presence often did more than physical force.

He never raised a hand to you, but his words were as sharp as a knife, and his heavy, dominating aura weighed on you. When he stood right on top of you, you tilted your head back, trying not to tremble under his imposing size. Showing fear was another thing he detested, a sign of weakness.

“I asked you a question, girl.”

“I found out that Mrs. Cheng has contracted pneumonia. When there was no lesson, I thought-”

“What did you think?” your father interjected. Although his voice sounded calm, the underlying rage made you tremble. “How many times do I have to repeat this to get it into that thick little head of yours; you don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. You’re not anyone’s daughter. Don’t embarrass me and our clan any more and go back to your studies.”

While your father practically pinned you with his eyes, the rustling bushes behind you revealed the children who were hiding. As your father humiliated you in front of them, your cheeks flushed with shame, and your eyes shone with tears that you resisted not to shed. Clenching your small fists, you bowed your head to hide your tears.

“Very well, sir.” you muttered in a bitter voice.

With a sigh, your father said, “Fall in front of me.” Obliged to obey, you started walking along the path to the temple. Though you felt the children’s eyes watching you and heard their whispers, you avoided looking at them due to your shame.

As the temple came into view, you saw your older and middle brothers, one year apart, laughing and pointing fingers at you. The pain in your heart surged, and you made a great effort not to cry. The distance with your brothers and the clan seemed insurmountable. Even if you managed to get closer, somehow they were still moving away from you. Swallowing hard, you swore at that very moment.

You were going to prove yourself to everyone in the clan, especially your father.

No matter what happens.

Today…

You were nervous.

It was the first letter you were going to send to your brother since you came to Lin Kuei. In the letter, you didn’t mention being poisoned and almost coming back from death. The first reason for this was to prevent your brother from starting a war when you had not yet gathered useful information. The second reason was that you didn’t want him to humiliate you for not noticing the poison.

So, without touching on the subject at the moment, you talked about your new life here and the closeness you had begun to establish with the clan members. Especially with Bi-Han, you started to communicate even if it was a little. Your conversations usually revolved around the books he brought you from his mother’s library, which you were forbidden to enter. Surprisingly, Bi-Han had read most of them, maintaining a secretive attitude but not holding back from making a few comments.

He was busy, spending almost all of his day taking care of the affairs of his clan. Even if you only saw him at meals, it made it difficult to further the small communication you had established with him.

Aside from that, it was much easier for you to get along with the others compared to Bi-Han. The only exception was Frost. The woman was as inaccessible as an ice castle, vowing not to talk to you. She was ranked in the top five among the most talented and successful warriors in the clan, and having her assigned as your bodyguard frustrated both her and you. You tried to initiate a dialogue with her more than once to make it feel less like a duty, but the constant surveillance was starting to infuriate you. As long as this situation continued, gathering information about Lin Kuei would be challenging.

Everything you’d learned so far was superficial. Forbidden from entering the archive, the only way to go unnoticed was to use your powers. To do this, you had to create the appropriate moment, but doubts lingered. Ninjas patrolling and Bi-Han lingered into the late hours of the night. A few nights ago, you observed Cyrax walking around with other ninjas.

After adding the last lines to your letter, you created a crow out of the shadows. The only shining place on the crow, standing in a black state, was its beady eyes, having the same eye color as yours. Stroking the crow’s head and under its chin, you inhaled deeply.

You could already anticipate the response your brother would send, filled with humiliation and pressure to accelerate your progress. But Bi-Han was a unique individual, different from anyone you knew, carrying a bit of each of them but forming a distinct persona.

He was bound by traditions, his clan was more important to him than anything else, maybe even more than himself. Perhaps the woman who poisoned you was genuinely innocent, but even that couldn’t be fully proven. Bi-Han considered eliminating her a reasonable option. Whether he liked it or not, you were his wife now, and you represented Lin Kuei. Everything done to you was directly related to him.

This fact bothered you more than the invasion of your privacy in recent days. You accepted this mission knowing the consequences, but facing the truth turned out differently than you hoped. On the other hand, your mother had always instilled in you from childhood that there is hope in every despair. Maybe it was a sign for you to look at ways to turn this situation in your favor. If you could find a way to take the reins into your own hands, who knows, maybe you could even change the course.

Folding the letter you had written, you stamped your seal on it and handed it to the crow’s beak to carry. Then, with a graceful movement of the wrist, you created a portal in the middle of the room, again from the shadows, commanding the crow with a nod to pass into it.

The crow quietly passed right through the portal after a few flaps of its wings and disappeared out of sight, and the portal disappeared on its own right behind him with its departure.

You stood up with another deep breath. It was about to come to dinner, and when you left your room to go to the table before the others, two ninjas waiting outside the door moved with you.

Since you learned about the temple’s layout, it took you only a few minutes to find the dining room now. When you got to the room, one of the ninjas opened the sliding door for you, and after you entered, they waited outside the room, closing the door behind you.

When you noticed Sektor inside, except for you, you said, ‘‘Good evening.’’ Sektor responded in the same way by making a small greeting with his head.

‘’You’re early today.’’

‘’I’m going on a mission to America tomorrow. That’s why I finished my work early,’’ said Sektor, collapsing into his usual chair. And when you took your place at the head of the table next to Bi-Han, you took a small sip of the water placed in the glass in front of you.

After what happened, you hesitated once or twice about touching something to your mouth, but after seeing the protection provided to you and the precautions taken, this hesitation disappeared in a very short time.

While the water refreshed you and slowly calmed the tension you were feeling because of the letter, you quietly studied Sektor. He had a strong physique like every other warrior in the clan. His long black hair was always massed in a tight ponytail, and his beard was neatly shaved.

You had limited information about him. He wasn’t much of a talker compared to the others; he had a tough stance and judgmental looks, much like Bi-Han. You had heard how fast and ruthless he was when fighting while the members around him were talking among themselves. One of the people Bi-Han trusted the most was Sektor, without a doubt.

‘’How do you feel? You seem to have recovered quite a bit since the last time I saw you.’’

“I am being well taken care of, thank you,” you said with a smile that you hoped seemed convincing. Although most of the clan still viewed you as an outsider, an extension of the enemy clan, you couldn’t ignore the care shown for your health and safety.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

‘’Do you think that woman was innocent?’’ you asked at once.

“What made you think of that question?” Sektor raised one of his black eyebrows, looking at you with a questioning expression. You took another sip of your water before answering, keeping your gaze expressionless.

“Tomas was with me that day, and the woman told him that if he wanted to drink tea, she could bring a cup. I honestly don’t think she would have made such an offer if she had known that there really was poison in it. I may be a stranger to you, but Tomas is one of you, and on top of that, Bi-Han’s brother.’’

‘’You are also his wife,’’ Sektor said, voicing the simple truth.

‘’Yes, but many of you have not yet been able to accept this fact.’’

“Ginger has a pungent smell, a logical material that can be used to make it difficult for you to choose the poison.’’

‘’Still, I really don’t think she’s the one who planned this. Is it right that it was decided to kill her before this was clarified?’’

Sektor, leaning back in his chair, drew a breath so loud that you could hear it. He put his own glass between his fingers, looking into the it with thoughtful eyes.

‘’Our clan is strictly bound by traditions, so the punishments used to be heavier. As a penalty for certain crimes, not only the person but also their entire family was sentenced to death along with them. In the event of an assassination attempt against you, it does not matter whether this person is innocent or not; the fact that they took part in this act is considered quite sufficient reason for their murder.’’ He went on, taking a sip of his water just like you.

‘‘My respect and loyalty to Bi-Han are absolute. After the death of his father, he made great innovations to move the clan forward. But sometimes he can succumb to his anger, and at those moments, even if we try to give him common sense as council members, he won’t hear anyone. It is impossible to change his mind when he makes a decision.’’

‘’Then what does it matter to the council if he is doing what he knows in the end?’’

From the way you asked the question, it was clear that you were really curious about the answer and trying to decipher the dynamic between them. A small smile appeared on Sektor’s face.

“Bi-Han can get angry easily, but he knows his responsibilities better than anyone. He is very strong-willed to fulfill them. Exceptions do not break the pedestal.’’

‘’So you’re saying that under all his scary appearance, he’s reasonable as long as we don’t touch a sore point?’’

‘’Isn’t it just like everybody?’’ Sektor said, the smile on his face widening a little more. ‘’I’m going to tell you a secret, like you, I think the woman is innocent. She doesn’t know who’s behind this.’’ When he said these things, he had made his voice too quiet for those outside to hear. You asked curiously.

‘‘How can you speak so confidently?’’

‘’I was present during the interrogation, and it became evident from the woman’s body language and speech that she had no knowledge of the situation.’’

‘‘And what is the secret part of it?’’

‘’The woman is alive.” Sektor left the glass in his hand on the table, leaned his chin on his clasped hands, and while he continued to talk to you without breaking eye contact, he maintained a dominant presence that held your attention.

‘’How so? Did you disobey Bi-Han’s orders?’’

‘’Partly. To be more precise, I can say I saved the life of an innocent person by taking her away from here.’’

’‘Oh.’’ You sat back, not knowing what to say. ‘’And why did you share this with me? You don’t even trust me.’’

‘’True, but I want to try. After all, you are part of this clan. Trust won’t build on its own, and I believe we need to start somewhere for this.’’

‘’So you’re extending an olive branch, are you?’’

As footsteps, signaling the arrival of others, began echoing in the corridor, Sektor muttered his final words before the doors swung open.

“There is no war between you and me, (y/n). It is true that you are a foreigner, but it is entirely up to you to change this fact.’’

As soon as Sektor concluded his words, the grand doors on both sides of the room swung open wide, revealing the entrance of the clan members. In particular, Bi-Han and the others streamed in with an air of authority. Simultaneously, a dozen helpers, deftly carrying trays of steaming, delectable dishes, entered through the opposite door.

The delicious smell of the feast filled the room, making you more aware of the tempting dishes arranged on the table. As the culinary delights were displayed, your hunger in contrast to the stress you’ve felt since composing a letter in your room, became more noticeable.

While quietly calculating which dish to choose first, you caught Bi-Han’s questioning gaze. He sat down on the chair next to you and asked in his usual cold, deep voice.

‘’What are you doing?’’

Although your cheeks turned pink due to the slight embarrassment of being caught, you didn’t let yourself down. You gently cleared your throat and threw your hair over your shoulder.

‘’They all look perfect. I was trying to decide which one to start first, but I’m having a hard time.’’

Tomas chuckled at your response from the other end of the table.

“I advise you to start with sweet-sour pork. The taste is absolutely legendary.’’

‘’You should taste the spring rolls too. I'm sure you'll like it.’’ Suggested Kuai Liang. He offered you a spring roll with chopsticks, surprising you with his gentlemanliness. Such approaches were rare in your own house, leaving you occasionally disoriented.

‘’She has arms, she can reach her own,’’ grumbled Bi-Han as he filled his plate with food, but no one paid much attention.

‘’Guys, you are all misguiding her. What you really need to try is Peking duck,’’ insisted Cyrax, pointing with his chopsticks to the dish he mentioned. Your cheeks warmed under the attention, marking the first time you didn’t feel truly uncomfortable with it. The interest and relevance they showed unexpectedly warmed your heart.

As everyone chatted and filled their plates, Bi-Han subtly added some tofu to yours without anyone noticing. When you stared at him in surprise, he looked ahead, almost pretending he hadn’t done it, assuming a guarded stance as if suggesting you do the same.

With the surprise lingering on your face, you decided to try the tofu first, popping one into your mouth. The taste was spicier and more bitter than expected, making you express your surprise. Bi-Han, despite taking care of his own food, watched your reaction out of the corner of his eye. You carefully wiped your mouth with a napkin, in case anything was smeared.

‘‘It’s quite hot,’’ you admitted. ‘’Very spicy.’’

‘’The dish you’re eating is called Mapo Tofu. Is it never made in your clan?’’ inquired Bi-Han, now fully attentive and curious about your answer.

‘’This kind of food isn’t cooked in our clan because my father doesn’t like spicy dishes. So, I can’t say it’s a taste I’m familiar with. I’m surprised that you like it too, frankly.’’

“Why?” Bi-Han focused on you, curiosity evident on his face. ‘’If you’re going to attribute it to the fact I’m a cryomancer-‘’

‘’But isn’t it surprising?’’ you interrupted with a small chuckle.

“No.’’

‘’The tofu I just ate was as hot as if it had come out of the dragon’s mouth. You can even spray fire with a few of them.’’

‘’That’s because your taste buds aren’t used to it. Also, according to your illogical understanding, then I should be enjoying tasteless and cold dishes that contain no spices.’’

In an attempt to stifle the laughter welling up inside you, you reached for your refilled water glass and took a substantial sip. The ongoing banter, much like the one Bi-Han had criticized a few days ago when he deemed your stargazing childish, mirrored the very judgment he had passed. However, this time, you opted to continue the conversation rather than shutting it down. It marked the lengthiest exchange Bi-Han had engaged in without sarcasm since your arrival.

‘’Yes, all these things you’re counting also align with your character,’’ you affirmed. Despite Bi-Han’s automatic frown, you maintained a calm, friendly tone without yielding. “Although, on second thought, you’re right; there must be something that feeds your mood. Am I wrong?’’

Before Bi-Han could respond, laughter erupted from Kuai Liang across the table. Tomas, Cyrax, and even Sektor, less overtly, stifled their amusement. Observing their reactions, Bi-Han emitted an irritated growl.

‘‘What the hell are you all looking at? Eat your damn food.’’

A muffled laugh rippled through them, and as Bi-Han exhaled a deep breath of icy smoke, the others refocused on their meals, avoiding further provocation.

The room, adorned with hanging lights casting a warm, soft glow, emanated a tranquil ambiance. A calm conversation filled the space, punctuated by occasional questions that allowed you to participate. Listening to their daily routines and being part of the camaraderie reignited an ache in your heart.

In your own house, women, including yourself and your mother, were barred from active participation in conversations between your father, clan elders and even your siblings. Speaking was deemed great rudeness, and until today, you had adhered to quietly eating your meals and waiting until they concluded. Now, the opposite experience left you offering brief answers, apprehensive of overstepping unfamiliar boundaries.

Fortunately, no one probed into the evasive responses, likely attributing it to lingering shyness. It wasn’t precisely a falsehood, but the unfamiliarity of this environment left you unsure of where the boundaries started and ended, instilling a fear of making mistakes.

‘‘(y/n),’’ Bi-Han’s hoarse voice interrupted your musings. Meeting his gaze, you wondered about the reason for his summons. ‘’Walk with me a little after you’ve finished your dinner.’’

Choosing not to question the motive, you simply responded, ‘’Of course.’’

Half an hour passed, and when the fruit service concluded, Sektor rose first from the table. Cyrax followed about ten minutes later, prompting Bi-Han to stand and signal for you to do the same with a nod. As you left the room after exchanging a ‘goodnight’ with a smile, the two remaining brothers glanced at you with curiosity and questioning expressions.

One of the two ninjas tasked with protecting you handed you a coat as you walked out the door. Surprised by this, Bi-Han caught the expression on your face while you quietly put on the coat that was handed to you and explained.

‘’I asked for the coat to be brought. It’s colder outside than last night.’’

‘’I thought you couldn’t feel the cold.’’

‘’It is so.’’ Bi-Han said simply. The fact that he did not take his intense gaze off you for a moment while saying this did something strange to your heart. You felt the cold like everyone else, but you were trained to be resilient to all kinds of bad conditions and negativity. Although you could tolerate the bitter cold up to a point, there was no need for Bi-Han not to know this fact. And you also liked the unexpected gesture, no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

Fortunately, Bi-Han quickly returned to his usual arrogant mood, making it easier for you to get rid of unwanted feelings.

“After all, birds can’t survive in winter.’’

‘’I’m sure there are a few survival tricks in them that they know.’’ You said, lifting your chin slightly to get a better view of him. Bi-Han’s eyes narrowed in a way that showed he was having fun.

‘‘We’ll see about that.’’

Bi-Han, walking in front, led you from the back terrace into the garden. The cold evening air took away all the warmth from your face, which was warmed inside. The air was fresh and the sky was clear. Since there were not many people walking around, it was calm and quiet. When you arrived almost running to catch up with Bi-Han’s wide steps, you curiously expressed the question you wanted to ask all along.

‘‘Why did you call me over?’’

‘’To talk.’’

‘’To talk?’’

‘’Do you want me to spell it out for you to understand, too?’’

You frowned at his sarcastic reply.

‘‘You could have talked to me at the table, too.’’

During your argument, when Bi-Han slowed down his steps so that you could catch up with him, you started walking next to him. A few seconds passed, and when you realized that Bi-Han would not answer you with a prolonged silence, you sighed, ‘’What do you want to talk about?’’ You asked.

With the question, Bi-Han’s hard, illegible gaze found yours.

‘‘About your family.’’ His brown eyes, very dark in the moonlight, went down to the scar hidden by your turtleneck sweater. Even though he couldn’t see it, you moved restlessly where you were, because it bothered you that he knew where the scar was. ‘‘And your past.’’ Bi-Han said after a while.

“And why should I do that? There is no reason for me to open my private life to you.”

“You are my wife, so it is important that I know everything about you.”

“Oh, really? Then how about it being mutual, grandmaster?” You used a sarcastic tone against him, echoing the attitude he displayed towards you a little while ago. “If you want to exchange information, you should also reveal something about yourself. It can’t be one-sided.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” Bi-Han stopped walking. While you couldn’t discern exact anger, his tone hinted at displeasure with the conversation’s direction. It made you smile at least he was beginning to understand that you wouldn’t comply with everything he said.

“Then you may suppose that this conversation is over.” You stated it in a polite but clear tone. Without waiting for Bi-Han to resume walking, you heard him talking behind you as you started walking ahead.

“What do you want to know?”

“There, if you keep on answering like that—wait a minute, what?”

Turning on your heels, you stared with big eyes at Bi-Han, who was standing a little further away, with a confused expression that showed you weren’t sure you had heard correctly.

“What do you want to know?” said Bi-Han calmly, repeating his question. He covered the distance in two big steps, and when he stood in front of you, you tilted your head back slightly and looked at him.

Normally, his hair would have come out of its bun, tufts disheveled and scattered due to the workouts and studies he did during the day. However, at the moment, it caught your attention that it was standing properly, as if he had just collected it. When you caught the smell of soap rising slightly from him, you realized that he had just been washed. He probably should have gone to the hot springs before he came to dinner.

The places where the moonlight touched his face softened his expression with a silvery light, while his shadowed lines were hard and angular. It must have been a cruel trick of fate for such a cold and arrogant man to be blessed with a handsome face.

“Have you always wanted to have this title?” You said, averting your gaze from his eyes, which were surrounded by long black lashes.

“Yes, I’ve been trained for this all my life.”

“It doesn’t seem like an easy life.”

“Success, as I see it, involves the sacrifices we’re willing to make. I grew up knowing that one day, I’d have this title, and I accepted that reality.”

You responded thoughtfully.

“I can imagine it’s a difficult path. Do you believe you make a good leader?”

The unexpected question caught Bi-Han off guard, prompting him to pause and study your face with furrowed brows. As you two continued walking, the snow crunched beneath your steps, your breath visible in the cold air, forming a mist. The temperature dropped further, the chilly air biting at your cheeks and nose.

“Are you making an insinuation?”

“No, I really wonder what you’re thinking.”

Bi-Han’s gaze was aimed at a distant point rather than at you. His face was again darkened with an expression that you could not read.

“I can’t answer that question, but I know what kind of leader I don’t want to be,” he said. His voice was unexpectedly honest. When you were standing in front of a snow-covered bench together, Bi-Han melted the snow with just a hand gesture, leaving it dry enough to sit on.

“My father has always remained closed to innovations throughout his rule of the clan. While technology was advancing every day, he was determined to cling to the traditional ways without adapting to the changes. However, history has shown us that those who do not adapt to innovation are always doomed to extinction. I want to do the right thing for my clan; we have the potential to achieve much more than it seems. Just being content with what is happening will lead to inevitable decline after a while.’’

“I don’t think you will experience such a thing,” you said in a polite voice, picking up where he left off. You were both seated at either end of the bench, with a space between you so decently marked that one person could comfortably enter. “Maybe I’ve been here for about a month, but I can see how much you put your clan at the forefront.”

“What kind of leader do you think I am?”

“Do you want an honest answer or-”

“Honest,” Bi-Han interrupted, not letting you continue your words. “Compared to most people here, you’re not afraid when you talk to me. That’s why I’m curious about your thoughts.”

It was true that you were not afraid because you did not exactly anger him. Unlike a segment that everyone is afraid of seeing and therefore makes sure not to even breathe in the same place as him, you haven’t seen the other side of him yet.

“I would say that you are an ambitious person. You are stubborn and determined, you can stand behind what you believe is right to the end. But at the same time, you are rude and arrogant, you do not allow people to express their own opinions. You intimidate them with fear.”

“I don’t need to hear their thought. I know what’s right better than they do.”

“It’s true that experience makes you different from them, but one of the important features of being a good leader is being able to listen to what others are saying. It’s not just listening, it’s communicating that’s the main thing. Fear is a compulsion, whereas respect is earned.” As your gaze turned to the ornamental pool in the distance, your next words poured from your lips as a whisper. “My father too could never decipher the difference between these two.”

Bi-Han looked at you silently with his chin resting on his clasped hands, leaning his elbows on his legs, which he had spread out from side to side. With this posture, his large, muscular body had shrunk a little, as if he was giving you space to talk more comfortably, trying to make himself look less threatening to you.

‘’What do you mean?’’

“Through fear, you can easily compel someone to obey you, but that person does not willingly open their heart, thoughts, or soul to you. Respect, on the other hand, is the admiration one feels for a person’s qualities, values, and achievements. Being with them gives you strength, they won’t hurt you, and you want to follow them wherever they go. My father was a tough man, and achieving the position of his right-hand man was considered a courageous task. That’s why they were constantly changing like the seasons, as no one wanted to be near him due to fear.’’

While discussing your past without delving into too many details, Bi-Han’s gaze was attentive, as if he was absorbing the most crucial fact of his life. To be more comfortable on the bench, you slightly turned your body to the side, leaning your back against the armrest, bringing your knees close enough to touch each other.

‘’It must have been hard for you.’’ Surprisingly, there was no usual condescending tone in Bi-Han’s voice, instead, it carried sincere understanding—an unexpected development for you.

‘’My mother was my greatest blessing. She was understanding, kind, and caring. In short, she possessed all the characteristics that my father did not have.’’ As your gaze shifted from the ornamental pool to the stars in the sky, your voice trembled with a longing you couldn’t suppress. ‘’I miss her.’’

At that moment, Bi-Han’s knee touched yours. His movement was so slight and imperceptible that, at first, you thought you were imagining it. However, the coolness emanating from him was too realistic to pretend otherwise.

“It seems mothers have always held a different place compared to fathers. My mother was a good person too. She was always a buffer between me and my old man.’’

Against his small consolation, the lump in your throat grew. Why did he start treating you like this? Everything would be easier if he kept acting as he did on the first night you got married. Instead of getting to know him, he should have remained a stranger, all these conversations and tiny gestures should not have happened. You’ve already opened up to even the slightest emotional warmth, and you couldn’t undermine the responsibility you felt towards your mission with your own hands. How would you face your brothers and your clan?

He’s your enemy.

When your brother’s voice hissed inside your mind like a poisonous snake, you quickly composed yourself and straightened your seat.

‘‘Sorry, but I’d better get inside. it’s getting pretty cold. Goodnight, grandmaster. Thank you for this little conversation.’’

Without giving Bi-Han a chance to say anything, you quickly got up from where you were sitting and started walking back towards the temple with brisk steps. All the while, you could feel Bi-Han’s burning gaze on you.

It’s a mission. You said to yourself. Keep your feelings out of your task.

*******

P.S : Their knees touched aaaaaaaaa :3

Tagging @mmeerraa ❤️

[theeternalwombtarot]

What lessons are you learning in love right now

message: I’m working through my drafts just as I said I would, the time for this reading has come because I feel called to do it and so I will. Things have been tiring and I am in the process of releasing many things as I’m being guided to do during this eclipse taking place at this time. I’m mourning many losses, I’m holding onto my hope, holding onto my strength, I’m resting, I’m healing, I’m transforming. I’m taking with me not pain but lessons. I’m spinning gold out of what I’ve been given. To love is such a wonderful blessing and beautiful gift, even when loss is inevitable or when it is given to you at the very end every time. So we’re going to find out what lessons you’re learning in love today collective. Thank you for co creating this reading with me, for spending time with me, for enjoying my content, and for growing and transforming with me. You are so loved. <3

***

i.

Pile one, a good amount of your lessons in love in general and not just at this current moment could be centered around your self-worth and learning it. You could’ve been burned a lot by past lovers or have had some trivial and complex relationships that issues may have lied in your ability to understand your worth, ask for more, and accept more. This hasn’t changed. Your current lessons that you’re learning in love still lie in you having an awakening regarding your self-worth. Some of you are divine beings and are meant to do incredible things and take on leadership roles in life and part of this is going to require you to step into your power and really be a big influence and a big energy in everything you do. Many of you already take on a lot of leadership roles and are mentors and highly valued individuals in your lives but there’s more for you to unlock here.

This past relationship you’ve just gotten out of could’ve flipped yet another switch in you. I’m seeing a huge panel here with a lot of red buttons and/or switches. Everytime you come out of a relationship that was meant to shake you or push you into a different energy and you overcome another button is pushed and another switch is flipped. The number 94 could be significant to you in some way shape or form as it represents progress and spiritual growth. “It encourages you to pursue your goals even if they seem difficult or impossible. Your angels will work along side you as long as you stay committed and focused on reaching success. With determination, anything is possible!” There’s a message here about you not settling for less I’m hearing or continuing to ask for more and raise your price, and add tax.

I’m hearing someone needs to detox the body here as well. You can be sick from something you ate, I feel stomach pain and discomfort in the body, you could have just finished a period if you’re a woman and may be in need of a acv detox bath, you may be feeling thirsty and dehydrated. You’re undergoing transformation and may be tired and feel as though you’re undergoing some sort of “recovery”. Butterflies and their transformation from a caterpillar into their final form could be significant. The divine feminine, the divine mother, the womb, all significant symbolism and imagery.

Someone is stepping further into their divinity with a catalyst in love they’ve just experienced recently as well. I hear spirit saying you’re very close or you’re red hot. The lesson you’re learning right now is regarding serving yourself Justice however difficult of a task it may prove to be. Spirit is putting emphasis on the idea that you’re the creator of your own reality and the way you choose to live your life, who you choose to spend time with you, to have access to your vessel, to your temple, to your heart, and to your mind all falls into your hands here. For many of you in this collective, feminine deities and strong matriarchal women in your blood line stand firmly behind you.

The lessons you’re learning in love also pertains to you overcoming a fear of change and being able to be more fluid in your life and in love here. You could have a hard time letting things go, heavily sentimental in matters of the heart or someone very emotionally passionate and driven. It makes it difficult for you to let go of heartbreak and let go of love when it’s time has passed or far gone. Spirit wants you to learn the art of release, wants you to learn the art of transformation when it’s time to undergo change. Spirit is teaching you to see accurately how much power you hold in your relationships and in your connections. An opportunity to enjoy your energy, an opportunity to sit with you, an opportunity to simply be in your presence even platonically is a divine one, is a blessed one. Spirit says “see this and hear this now.” There will be no contradictions, no arguments, and no compromising on this whatsoever. Whomever comes towards you should be prepared to move mountains and come ready or not at all.

Spirit is teaching you that with one drop of disharmony or an ounce of energy that isn’t serving you or doing right by you that there is no harm in being alone or working alone. So much of your power is heightened in your solitude they say, “so why do you color yourself afraid?” Spirit wants you to know that happiness and fulfillment are always written in the stars for you alone or in a connection with someone whom you love. Your lesson is that it is okay to walk away when you aren’t being served Justice, you will serve yourself Justice.

***

ii.

The lessons you’re learning in love right now pertain to aspects of your shadow that have been keeping you stagnant for a long time now. Negative thoughts, self-imposed restrictions like behaviors and mindsets that keep you from receiving things you truly deserve, self-imprisonment, and even potentially a victim mentality where you may choose to ignore the truth when met with conflict and make yourself seem like the person in relationships whose being mistreated or burdened when in reality you’ve fallen short or have villainized your partner to make yourself feel safer. I’m hearing when criticized or when something is brought to your attention you may tend to fall into a habit of defending yourself, defending your behaviors, and even using your knowledge or ability to communicate to try and push others into thinking that they were wrong or that they’ve wronged you so you don’t have to feel vulnerable or take true accountability for your actions.

If this is true for you I do see a large amount of this behavior not being behavior that’s meant to be malicious or bring harm to others but that’s been adopted out of trauma and a desire to be seen and heard or even validated and enabled as much as possible because this may have been something you went long periods without receiving within your life whether it came from a healthy or negative place here. I’m seeing someone being yelled at regardless of their making positive decisions, someone who didn’t get positive feedback and affirmation when they did do good things in their romantic relationships, in their platonic relationships, and with their relationships from a familial standpoint especially as a child.

There are lessons in the idea of you deserving more self-care or deserving more self-respect from your self here, giving yourself the freedom to have good things, giving yourself the freedom to serve yourself Justice so that other people can serve you, Justice, giving yourself the freedom to relax into the energy of receiving kindness and genuine love and respect from people who fully intend to give it to you and serve you compensation for heartbreak and loss. But there are also lessons here and understanding the fundamental bricks that makeup who you’ve become and how that seeps into your relationships as an individual, as someone with full autonomy and the ability to make their own decisions and show up as who they truly desire to be in love.

There’s a lot here, a message about stepping into your power and going against the status quo or challenging the status quo and blowing to smithereens preconceived ideas of who you should be and what you should accept whether these ideas were built around you or built by you. Spirit is also trying to teach you that there is more to love and connection than what the human world has taught you. There’s a message here about you coming to terms with the idea that love and true soul-deep connection goes against all logical ideas of what is possible here. You may be somewhat of a skeptic in the sense that you feel the extent of what we speak on (in regards to high-level soul connections and soul ties and soul connections in general) and how much power we give such things does not exist the way they are portrayed to exist but your resistance to these ideas highlights fear within self of true and deep attachment that cannot be destroyed or denied here.

There is knowledge and an aspect of yourself and your spirit that you’ve not tapped into or are covering your ears and eyes to out of fear. You are keeping yourself small in all aspects out of fear and choosing to create delays, tell yourself lies, and hide within your shadow and within the ego. Your recent failures in love and experiences in love teach you things regarding the need to let go and surrender to the divine plan and surrender to the change and transformation you must undergo to step into your power although it is scary and casts light on aspects of you who’d rather sit in the dark and hide away.

There are breakthroughs and mental clarity being birthed and given to you through love and heartbreak and the ups and downs and fluidity of human connection here. There’s something significant here about heart break and your past relationships or misaligned relationships here. You could be experiencing heartbreak or these back-to-back heart chakra awakenings that were sent to you to awaken you to your unhappiness in some of your relationships as well as the reason they may not have worked out because of aspects of your shadow here. You could’ve spent a lot of time in unhappy relationships in your past that you romanticized or glorified due to trauma that could’ve brought some semblance of heartbreak to you.

There’s also another connection I see here with a high priestess or someone who holds great divinity who could’ve given you true heart break or showed you what it means to lose someone whom you shared a true love with or a divine connection with here that’s highlighting and emphasizing this nine of cups in reverse, all this unhappiness and all of these ego. Ego death is highly significant for this pile. When this person leaves they trigger tower moments, where this person goes, rebirth occurs whether they mean to or not. They’re heavily supported and looked after by important deities. This person has an older soul and has walked through many lives being love, war, desire, and temptation, and all things that sit within the human shadow and all of its complexity. Your lesson lies in your shadow, your authenticity, and your ego. It’s time to undergo immense change even if it is difficult, painful, or scary.

***

iii.

Right now spirit may be potentially highlighting some co-dependent habits and behaviors in love for you pile three. There’s also a potential for some lessons regarding you honoring your feelings and your heart here. You may be someone who is prone to staying in situations that aren’t serving them and will not serve them out of codependency. True love could’ve been presented to you or there is someone that you loved here who was shown to you that you could’ve parted from. The love you had for this person represented love that you could’ve had for yourself but you ran from this person out of fear and made the decision to fall into karmic cycles or continue to invest your energy into karmic cycles and your window to make a different choice was closed on you here.

Your lessons in love, in general, as well as of late lie in your self respect and the need to reinvent who you are and who you choose to be. Something is incredibly significant about your choices here. You may be choosing to mimic certain examples you’ve seen in your life pertaining to who to be, or what love looks like instead of choosing to go in the opposite direction and choose differently to bring yourself true fulfillment. Spirit asks when you’re going to make choices that reflect back to you self love and a desire to be free. The words unfair are coming out here. I’m hearing someone complaining or validating that their life and their experiences are harsh and unfair but not taking the initiative to make better choices.

There’s a masculine energy here or a father that may play a huge role in your decisions and the way you view yourself, view relationships and navigate issues in your life here. If this is not the case there is still issues and misalignment regarding the making of decisions and creating healthy and aligned foundations for yourself in order to flourish. Spirit is saying that your experience in love or what you’re learning in love is necessary in order to push you to step into your power and find it within yourself to full your own cup and fulfill your souls purpose. You could be experiencing a large amount of issues within your current relationship or within your relationships in general both platonic and romantic that are contributing to an ego death or heart chakra awakening so that you can turn inwards and see yourself and see your surroundings for what they are and understand that you’re settling.

Spirit is shining light on your unhappiness and dissatisfaction with a lot of things within your life right now including relationships and spirit wants to know what you’re going to do about it?? Your lesson in love lies in how long you’re going to sell yourself short, settle for less than you deserve, and continue to remain stagnant for no reason other than to push against change and push against the current. Your soul family is not within the circle of people or the lovers that you invest your energy into, those people aren’t meant for you, those people won’t fill your cup whilst you attempt to fill theirs, those people won’t bend over backwards for you the way you bend over backwards for them. Those people don’t love you. Your lesson lies in how long you’re going to hide behind your shadow and ignore the call forward to undergo much needed transformation and healing. When are you going to make the right choices?

[kunekojo]

Would they fall in love at first sight or would it be slow burn and why and how do they confess if the reader is oblivious for szayel, mayuri and adult uryu ? Fluff plz

Also thx for the follow 🥺

You’re welcome!!! I need to make more bleach moots 🥹🥹🥹 thank you so much for being my first request btw, this means a whole lot to me! I hope you enjoy this!!!

Love at first sight/slow burn with Szayel, Mayuri and Uryu(adult)

•••

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

With him, it’s pure slow burn.

At first, he’ll treat you just like he treats everyone else, but right when you indicate the tiniest bit of curiosity in his projects, he’ll be overjoyed.

His experiments are his pride and it’s pretty rare for any of the soul reapers to show the slightest bit of interest in them. Yet when you do, he’ll take you and show you absolutely everything while stating the smallest details, convinced you won’t last for too long. His intellect isn’t for everyone and it’s not his problem.

But the problem is, you don’t leave. A little unexpected but he’s sure you’ll leave, eventually.

But again, you don’t. You find everything about his experiments so fascinating that you just hang around because you genuinely enjoy it. You find him impressive enough that you can’t quit witnessing his psyche.

You’re not a scientist yourself but learning about these things takes a hold of you so much that you find yourself together in his lab with him oftentimes.

And believe me, you end up spending a looot of time with him. So much that everyone is kind of worried but that's not an issue.

The more time you spend with him, the more you begin developing ideas and you're not ashamed to spill your mind. Of course, he might be a bit cruel while correcting you but hey, this is his style, right? You can't be right about everything, but he's kind of encouraging you in a weird way to keep at it.

Still, he finds it a little fascinating how you hang around him, indulging yourself in his domain. After all, his mind is so vast, how can people not do that?

Little by little, you take after him and it impresses him greatly, so much that he's kind of developing a little something something for you but he can't exactly grasp what, hell he just thinks you've specialized yourself. Maybe it’s just mutual respect with how much you've evolved but oh boy, it's so much greater than that.

First, You'll notice he's actually letting you take part in his research as he does his lil mad scientist thing but hey, perhaps this means you’re finally able to attend to these, so good job.

Second, he'll tend to care about your well-being in battles. Thing he normally doesn't mind. As a soul reaper, you must give your all, even if it means your life, but he makes a little exception with you.

He can't explain to himself why and will try to find logical reasons for this odd behavior he's undergoing. But the more time you spend with him, it intensifies, sending him to spiral over this nonsense.

Then at some point, he needs someone as a test subject and while you offer yourself, he denies it, giving a rather weird explanation that rather makes sense but doesn't. You don't pay much attention to it because duh, you understand he knows better, you won't just question his decision despite not entirely agreeing to it, but the problem is he questions it himself

For some time the odd change he's sensing goes away, but everything shifts when you bring something for him on his birthday and he doesn't reject it. He might in fact look at it frequently. Why would he even accept something like this? Something, this insignificant. It's so frustrating, but he's got to search for an answer on his own.

This thing eats at him so much that he goes all the way to make throughout tests on himself and see wherever there's an after-effect to his experiments but it's not. The chemicals in his brain incline towards the possibility of behavior so much greater than plain respect, a little investment in you.

Simply put, he likes you a little but will run a few more tests to make sure, and they all come positive, again. He can't deny his own results at this point, but he has to accept whatever this is and work with it

Some more time later after (after days of analyzing), there's improvement on his side (he's accepted)

But you fall victim to a virus during battle and he does his utmost to generate an antidote for you and it drives him crazy when he almost loses which is unacceptable. It's the sudden fear of loss that astonished him, he's never felt that before but it’s a huge game changer between you two

This event makes him consider experimenting on you just so there wouldn't be any more chances of you dying on him

Afterward, once you're refreshed and up, you decide to thank him for saving your life and he makes an odd comment, something along the line “you better stay by my side for the rest of your time.” which you can't get at first but with time, it makes sense

Uryu Ishida (adult)

Uryu’s on the spectrum of love at first sight instead but with a tiny bit of slow burn

He generally protects and saves other women but when he meets you as you're proving you’re able to do that on your own. he acknowledges it. He can’t lie to himself and not agree he’s a little intrigued by it, but will still tend to overprotect you out of instinct

Your whole personality snatches his attention and he can't help but think about you a little, especially with how nice you are so expect him to not take his eyes off you when you seem to be in troubke

You find his carefulness precious but will constantly remind him it's not like you're helpless, but you do appreciate his care and it's what draws you to spend time with him

Despite his quietness, he's really enjoyable to hang around and you both do find a few things to talk about and they do expand quicker than he anticipated

There's just something about your being that draws him to you so much that he can't really imagine not having you around but he rejects the idea of this possibility

Then you praise him for something he did for you and it's done

Face flushed, he won't be able to take you off his mind and the first rational explanation to this oddness is that... He might have a crush on you?? If this is how crushes work.

He denies it but does take it into consideration. Everyone goes through this kind of feeling but isn't it a little different??

He has to go to Orihime and inquire about this, behavior just to confirm his hypothesis and it does

He doesn't know how to handle the news and it's somehow harder to be around you with these newfound feelings but you somehow manage to soothe him which is incredible

But he won’t just plainly state his feelings, especially that he’s not aware if you share them too. It wouldn’t even be proper to address this issue of his since you don’t seem to have some feelings as well

But god it eats at him so much that you start noticing it a little and he panics momentarily while trying to act cool about it

Still, it worries you so much that you’re sure he’s going through a bad period and you must be there for him, to listen to him, completely oblivious that this is only happening when you’re around

Maybe he trusts you enough to show his true colors in front of you!

The more time passes, the more he can't hold it inside anymore, and out of the blue, he requests you two have a talk about an important matter

You're worried sick about it and accept his invitation but when he can hardly find his words, you stare at him confused, urging him to tell you what's troubling so you could help him

“What?? No, nothing’s going on in my family, it's just that-” “just what? Please Uryu, tell me, don't bottle up your emotions. I'm here to listen. There's no shame in having family problems” “No it's not that.” “Are you sure?”

Your hand placed on his shoulders is what pushes him to the last straw

“There’s nothing wrong about my family.” “Then about who?” “You. I like you”

His words stun you but he's quick to explain his love feelings, confessing he had kind of fallen for you from the start

Szayel

Another pure slow burn similar in some ways to Mayuri

It all begins when you’re placed to work under him by Aizen himself. When you two first meet, he's not phased by your presence but takes it as it is, especially since Aizen pointed out that the choice of putting you alongside him isn't baseless

He's rather curious why though, a little convinced there might be a faulty reason to it but for that confirmation, he must put you through all sorts of trials

Yet when you pass these little mind tricks, he doesn't deny it. So you're worthy enough to witness his absolute genius

You catch up with his ideas pretty quickly which is intriguing. Your drive to help him achieve whatever’s on his mind is of great benefit to him and he does take advantage of it

Truthfully, as long as you're useful you're good to hold around.

You two spend quite a lot of time together and you get to see parts of him Aizen has never told you about, so your intrigue makes you show more of you as well

He might not make it seem like he cares but he does keep in mind everything, just chooses not to give further thought to it for now

All that time also comes with different experiments which start mild and are easy to handle but the more he increases them, you start showing signs of difficulties but your urge to keep them going amazes him

So you're not perfect after all, then he should make you perfect. He deemed you worthy in the beginning, so he must keep you that way to the end. You don't even protest and he welcomes your reply

There's something odd about the way you let him do anything for the sake of research. It's not like you do it as a mindless puppet, but as someone who understands his means to some extent

It draws him closer to you but again, he does not give much thought to it

Then at some point, one of his experiments goes bad and puts you in a sort of critical condition and he does everything to undo it

Why would he even do that? It's simple, he needs you and your psyche, he can't afford to lose such a significant piece, one who listens to every command

Also maybe he's grown attached to you and the realization itches deep inside his mind until it's knocking at the door

He enjoys the way you go to the extent of putting yourself in danger but it's not like he’ll allow that to happen. He needs you healthy and well, and not only for his experiments

Your input is always spot on so he praises you when you come up with ideas to boost his brainstorming and that means a lot to him

You're in fact an important piece in his eyes and he'll do everything to ensure your growth and your safety

You also begin showing him equal signs of attachment and care for him, which he can hardly digest because of the suddenness

But he can't deny his growing feelings of comfort and deep trust around you, practically giving a hint of a feeling much more evolved than previously

It's when you manage to do an experiment of yours without his help that he places the palm of his hand on your head, as his soft-spoken words seize your focus

“I love the way you've evolved, and I wish to see your astounding skills bloom so much further.”

[singguks]

city of hearts, ep. 1 ❤️‍🩹 taehyung

synopsis. having experienced a fateful romance by the beach, taehyung sets out on a quest through seoul's bustling streets to locate the woman who has stolen his heart.

pairing. taehyung x oc

genre. social media auㆍgamedesigner!tae ( angst. fluff. smut. )

word count. 5623

warnings. adulthood romance things cof cof implicit

a/n. i couldn't possibly start another au, but she said the word and so i did. happy birthday to my bestie, whom i'd love to see more often even though we talk every day ☆ thank you for being my person through and through ! this is my love letter to you, miss bubbles ♡

episodes. 01 ▸ 02 ▸ 03

▸ E1: True or False?

One day we got curious as to how men and women date in this city. To satisfy our curiosity, we discussed the beginning of a new project, that required us to follow the lives of several men and women in Seoul.

For it to be real, we won’t intervene in their lives. Only when we think it’s necessary, we will share their answers with others, or maybe edit them to make this entertaining—all the while keeping their original words. 

It’s worth telling that fifty individuals around Seoul were chosen for this project. Still, they will all be participating with nicknames to protect their privacy—as we usually do when it comes to the internet. They all had to promise to treat their phones as their friends, as well as the app we developed where we will be posting questions, and telling only the truth. 

But some answers and behaviors made us wonder if they indeed were telling us like it really is.

[ note that some of their answers will be through text, others, like this one, will be taken as voice notes. all voices undergo a modification due to privacy issues. ]

ılı.lıl taehyung: I’m the cool type… and uhm, gentle. Definitely not clingy. I’m cool. 

ılı.lıl deo: I keep true to myself when I date… and when I break up too. 

ılı.lıl kie: I’d say I fall in and out of love pretty fast. What can I say? I’m passionate. *chuckles* And if I have to break up, I just do it. I won’t dwell much. 

ılı.lıl yoongi: What’s even the point of getting laid? *tsk* It’s a hassle… 

ılı.lıl jin: I’m not one to play games. I don’t like that. I think overall I’m a pretty good guy. 

ılı.lıl harin: Before my current boyfriend, well, I think I dated around uhm… Four men? No, three…? Wait. Let me retake this just once! *laughs* 

So, whether the participants are telling the truth… well, we will let you be the judge of that. 

⫰

Sort by Oldest first ↓

boreo 🤔

bluengrey For me, it’s women I can have fun with.

boreo men that I can talk to?

⤷ callmerinie huh? talking isn’t everything

tangerimin A physical connection, people. 

supertuna Are you asking what I think you’re asking?

notmekeys why are you all acting so innocent? kkk

boreo oh- 

tangerimin Why can’t you all say it? It’s just whatever. Just say it. You know, like bang!

⤷ boreo i got it now. 

callmerinie 🤭

callmerinie and cut~!

boreo so if it’s about intimacy..

⤷ notmekeys i think i know just by the smell. you know, it’s all about pheromones

supertuna Doesn’t it depend on the man? At least I think so. 

⤷ callmerinie wow! really? you’re giving yourself too much credit. 😒

bluengrey Uhm.. Usually I take the lead if it’s about that. 

⤷ boreo uh-huh. do you really? 

⤷ bluengrey Ok. Fine. There was this one time that I followed the girl’s lead. 

⤷ bluengrey One time, okay? 

⤷ boreo doubt it

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Sort by Oldest first ↓

bluengrey Dating? I don’t think so

⤷ supertuna No. I think it is. 

boreo dating really changed my point of view about that

tangerimin If you guys are putting it that way, I’ve dated many women. I loved it every time. 

⤷ callmerinie aww… and what the girls had to say about this?

⤷ notmekeys about men? well, you know. they are all the same: trash. 

⤷ boreo not all… i mean. there’s someone i know that wasn’t 

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Sort by Oldest first ↓

boreo yes. there is someone i can’t forget. 

bluengrey I do. 

Load more comments

[ note that this request was sent privately to users bluengrey and boreo and we edited the sequence of their answers according to our own motives and the following questioning. ]

ılı.lıl deo: It happened one year ago…

ılı.lıl taehyung: She was the only one I could see. Like I was just gravitating in her orbit… Like we were in a world of our own. I felt complete. 

ılı.lıl deo: I felt this spark every time I would catch him staring at me and then I simply couldn’t look away.

ılı.lıl taehyung: Back then I thought “Wah, this is what love feels like” *chuckles sadly*

ılı.lıl deo: I’ll always remember him. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: If that is really the case… I don’t think someone ends a relationship if they feel that way. 

ılı.lıl deo: It was my fault. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: You know, it was my fault… 

ılı.lıl taehyung: No… It’s true, she messed it up. 

ılı.lıl deo: I won’t make excuses.

ılı.lıl taehyung: I mean… Of all the people… Why me? Why did it have to be me?

ılı.lıl deo: Simply put, we met at a time when I needed someone like him. Thanks to him, I became who I am now... 

ılı.lıl taehyung: I wish I had never met her. *sighs* I was such a fool now that I think back. 

ılı.lıl deo: *smiles* Being around him.. his love was kind of magical...

⫰

august 10th, 2022 

Summer is at its peak and Taehyung has just arrived at Jeju airport. It has been a while since he last had some time to himself due to work, so to say he couldn’t wait for this much-deserving vacation is an understatement. 

He organized everything at the company before he took off for this get-away, from the ongoing projects ideas he had recently pitched in, to the files the design team would need the next fifteen days he was away. And if you know Taehyung, you also know being organized was never his forte. 

The game designer waits absentmindedly with his luggage by his foot, as he takes his beloved camera out of its case to finally point at the structure behind him. This airport isn’t the biggest one he had ever set foot on, he observes, but it is cozy enough and bustling with people everywhere to the point his fingers itch for the metal click of the equipment for a piece of nostalgia he held dear to his heart. 

Just around the corner, Deo hit the brakes of the jeep as she waits for a group of tourists to cross to the other sidewalk while talking to her boss on the phone. 

“It would’ve been much easier if you had just asked him for a selfie or something, Yumi–” 

She hears her boss laugh through the speakers as she looks out of the window. The place is packed to the point she can barely see the pick-up line where the Ubers and Taxis usually park, and a wave of worriedness falls upon her. “Let’s go through with his description once again.” 

“Ok, remember… He’s tall, and the last time he came he had blonde hair but that might not be the case anymore… Mmm, he has a nice shoulder line– Just trust me, his face will be hard to miss. He’s really handsome!” 

The confession has Deo opening a smile. She met Yumi just a couple of weeks back when she arrived in Jeju herself, but the connection was instant. 

For the first three days, she stayed at Yumi’s shack—the colorful hostel by the beach owned by Yumi herself and her long-time fiancé, Namjoon. But then going home became some distant reality she wasn’t ready to face, so kindly she was offered a position at the beach stay. And now, here she is, doing her first task out of the premises and the vigilante eyes of her playful bosses. 

Although she loved the couple who hired her, even if it had been just a mere seventeen days, and she considered them as family, nothing made Deo as uncomfortable as not knowing what she was dealing with. Driving to the airport clueless as to whom she should be picking up wasn’t her cup of tea and the uneasiness she felt was visible as she sighed longly while turning off the call. 

The stop sign goes green again, and with a bold strike of encouragement, she straightens her back, holds the steering wheel with conviction, and begins a cheerful pep talk to herself. 

“You can do this.” She mumbles, hawkeyes scanning the people as her car slowly passes by. “How hard can it be… He’s tall and–” 

The words quickly lose their sound in her mouth. Standing ten feet ahead, a man attracts glances from everyone passing by as he checks the visor in his camera absentmindedly. 

Mentally, Deo starts crossing every characteristic being given by Yumi as she keeps looking at him through the safety of the Jeep’s tainted window. The only thing that doesn’t match is that this handsome man isn’t blonde but a brunette. His chocolate locks look ridiculously soft blowing in the light breeze. 

Inhaling resolved, she parks right next to him, rolling her window down.  

“Hi there! Would you perhaps be the Kim Taehyung from Seoul I’m looking for?” 

Upon hearing his name, Taehyung looks up at her. The girl doesn’t wait for his answer, she jumps out of the vehicle that he can notice is much bigger than herself. “You must be here to pick me up… Right?” 

Deo smiles at him confirming with a nod before opening the big trunk of the Jeep. Instead of introducing herself right away as expected, Taehyung watches as she reaches for his luggage, her knitted eyebrows denouncing how heavy it must be. 

“I– I can do that–” He tries, but she swiftly evades his reach. 

“It’s no problem! Really.”

He watches a bit flustered as she tries to dismiss her effort with a laid-back energy as if it was something she did all the time—to arrange heavy stuff in trunks and whatever not. 

Picking both his duffel bags to help while she is still pushing his suitcase inside the trunk, he is able to take two steps before she takes notice and grabs them from his hands. “Leave that to me! You can wait inside, really. Go ahead!” Deo waves her hand and he starts to walk toward the passenger seat uncertain of how to behave, but decides to take her lead for the time being. 

“Seatbealt!” She says as soon as she occupies the driver's seat and he is quick to follow the instruction. 

“So… Where is Namjoon?” 

Deo reaches for the rearview mirror, casually checking something in her eye before adjusting it back to its position. “Oh, he had to give today’s surf lessons and Yumi was kind of busy with tonight’s gathering so… But you’ll see him soon enough!”

“Ah, I see” 

“He’ll be waiting for us by the beach, don’t worry.” And the bubbly smile she gives him before starting the car and driving them away is enough to shut down his inquiry and haze him in his thoughts. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: What kind of women I’m compatible with? *smiles* Looking back… I’m drawn to the ones that are strange to me at first *chuckles* I think they’re a good pair for me. 

Driving down the lush tapestry of Jeju island, Deo takes the wheel as the jeep’s interior is illuminated by the soft glow of the sun. Melodic notes intertwine with the afternoon’s warm atmosphere as music envelops them. Deo’s fingers tap the steering wheel, and her voice, a gentle hum, dances in harmony with the rhythm. Taehyung, sitting beside her, steals occasional glances, captivated by her carefree demeanor. The playful sway of her copper strands in the wind and the joy evident on her face, as the waves crash on the coast, make the moment feel like a private dance between them.

ılı.lıl taehyung: Have you ever met someone and felt like they were this huge… Question mark? 

ılı.lıl taehyung: Like– “What is she like? She looks fun” *chuckles reminiscent* And you can’t stop having these questions and curiosities… You just want to know more and more. 

As if sensing the perfect moment, a familiar melody begins to play through the car’s speakers. Deo’s eyes lit up with recognition, a grin forming on her lips. Officially Missing You by Tamia had been remade by Basstracks as a summer tune, and it had quickly become one of her favorites at the moment; a song that resonated with the essence of Jeju and its travelers. 

With an impulsive burst of excitement, Deo cranks up the volume, allowing the music to envelop the jeep. The infectious beat cascades around them, harmonizing with the engine's rhythm roaring wildly in the wind. Her hands tap the steering wheel more enthusiastically than before, her foot keeping time with the pedals as the melody ignites her senses. 

And then, as if the music had started a fire within her, she begins to sing. Her voice, rich and passionate, hits Taehyung’s ears in a wonderful and alluring way. Every note she sings seems to carry the energy of the sun-drenched afternoon, a celebration of life and the freedom of the open road. 

Taehyung was initially taken aback by the sudden fervor. He watches in silent amazement as she transforms from a steady driver into a vivacious performer. Her eyes sparkle with delight, and her voice carries an unadulterated joy that is impossible to ignore. 

For a moment, he is rendered speechless, caught in the captivating spell of her uninhibited enthusiasm even though he knows the lyrics by heart himself. But as the chorus approaches, Deo’s voice soars higher, and turning to him with an unmistakable twinkle in her eye, she opens the windows further, allowing the world outside to merge with the music. 

“You know this song–?” As she asks and the chorus reaches its crescendo, she extends her arm toward him, pretending her hand is a microphone. The invitation hangs between them, and he hesitates for a moment. “C’mon! Sing with me–” Shyness lingered, but her spirited performance is too magnetic to resist. 

Taking a deep breath, he leans closer to the imaginary tool and timidly joins in, his voice intertwining with hers. Taehyung sings softly, still caught in the spell of her contagious energy. His eyes remain fixed on her while she loses herself to the music.

At that moment, as Deo sings with all her heart, his own swells with a profound fondness for the stranger sitting by his side. He realizes that this is a glimpse into her unfiltered soul—one that seems to revel in the simple joys of life, that seems to embrace every moment with unbridled passion. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: That’s how I fell for her… You see, I’m attracted to intense women. 

⤷ tangerimin It is fun to follow their lead kekeke so… Same here. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: There is a lot more to it– Like being bubbly… Oh, and she was also pretty feisty! Yeah, *smiles* that’s what she was like. She had just the right amount of feistiness.

When the music fades out and is replaced by the radio host’s voice instead, Deo turns down the volume still in a cheerful spirit. She takes a peak at the passenger seat only to notice Taehyung’s eyes are already on her. Visibly disconcerted, he gives her a small smile before looking over at his window instead, and she takes the opportunity to know more about him. 

“You will like it there,” she starts bubbly and he returns his gaze to her side profile. It is endearing how close to the steering wheel her seat is to compensate for her small stature.  

“I think so too… The last time I came it was such a healing experience– And well, I’ve been wanting to rent a trailer ever since I was younger.” 

“Oh, you’ll love it then!” He watches how her eyes part from the road ahead and instead fall on his side of the car, momentarily pointing with her index finger still on the wheel to the beach extension that passes by them. “It must be lovely to drive along the coasts… Picking these beautiful spots to just– Chill. I have a list of them if you want!” 

Taehyung leans his head on the window, a nostalgic wave hits his lips as the lines of it curve upward and he watches the sea crashing at the shore. It’s like a vivid picture of his childhood right in front of him. 

“That would be great if I had the license to drive the camper around… Maybe next time?” 

“You’re staying over a month and you won’t even change spots?! Now that we can’t do, hon.” 

He looks back at her startled by the casualty she treats everything. And not in a bad way; she didn’t peg him as this overbearing nosy person who didn’t have boundaries, but as someone that seemed carefree and loose. A different version of himself that he had to let go of many moons ago to fit the immense gray box that was societal norms and ordinary conviviality. 

Feeling a bit tempted to just enjoy the moment he decides then to let go of the filters. “That’s the only thing to do, hon, I don’t have the license.” He jokes, chuckling at her reaction when hearing the nickname. “What? You started it.” 

“My bad! Yumi was so invested in this whole casual speech thing ever since I started my part-time job there that now I just can’t come out of it. Something about making the guests feel at home and all that…” 

“Sounds like Yumi!” 

“But back to you. I was thinking… If there was a way to get you a license, would you want it? To live the full experience of a camper, that is…?” 

Taehyung frowns thinking as he looks to the calm waves again, but there isn’t much thinking to do. He would love the freedom of parking the vehicle throughout the whole extension of Jeju. “Sure…” He ponders. Being the type to imagine and discuss things, he was more than ready to give her all the reasons why that would be great for his next stay. “To park it whe–” 

“Great! So let’s do it!” 

It is the last thing he hears before she makes an abrupt U-turn in the middle of the calm road, and he has to flatten one hand on the window and the other on the panel of the Jeep to hold for his life. 

His heart only stops beating at an alarming speed once she hits the brakes and he is able to open the door to exit the vehicle. Still confused as to what is happening, the picture gets clear as she opens her arms excitedly in front of what he realizes to be a driving school.

“Ta-da! Your problems will be solved in exactly two days!” Deo exclaims, and Taehyung is pretty certain that his face is contorting in the most clueless way. He notices how a sudden strike of worriedness flashes on her toffee irises, however. “If you manage to pass the test of course…” 

ılı.lıl taehyung: I should have known she was crazy by then… But in all honesty… That’s what made her fun in the first place. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: And that makes me crazy too *laughs* You know, it’s those kinds of things you only realize later… Much later. Like realizing you’ve been conned only after being conned by someone *sighs*

⤷ supertuna Wow … I have just now realized how some people can be so blind 

ılı.lıl taehyung: And now whenever I see a camper trailer… I think of her.

They only get out of the driving school when he goes through with all the paperwork necessary to go and take the test the next day as Deo had insisted. She not only pushed him into a 3x4 photo machine situated on the long corridor of the building, but also cut the picture she thought to be the best, and helped him fill the application. 

Taehyung keeps replaying the whole shenanigan in his head as he takes his surfboard out of the roof of the jeep parked by his temporary home—a camper trailer by the beach. Last year, Namjoon had called him excitedly sharing the news that his girlfriend and he had bought a cozy place in Jeju and had renovated it to be a chill hostel for surfers and passersby. Of course, Taehyung stopped by to visit as soon as he was able to take some days off, but at the time, since all trailers were already rented, he stayed on the main structure. 

Not that it was bad, far from it. He enjoyed every second; from the late-night gatherings to the lounge festivities, and the amazing lunchtime Yumi was keen on making into a later-on karaoke session or game quest. There was no dull time within the colorful facilities, and it was always kept so casual that it made Taehyung feel very much at home. 

But he had the trailer experience written down on his bucket list ever since he could remember. And so this time around, he was sure to seize the opportunity and make that old promise come true. 

His thoughts wander away as he finishes sticking his board in the warm sand. Playing by the emerald shore, Deo runs laughing as she is chased by two dogs. His right hand comes to his eye line to shield it from the sun as he is incapable of moving on with his life, seeing her throw a stick only to have the bigger dog chasing it and the little one look at her unamused. It’s like he could be here all day to witness this particular scene, unconscious and unbothered by what surrounds them. 

And that is indeed what happens. 

“Hey, you, Mr. cloud9–” Namjoon calls for his attention for the second time. “You didn’t listen to a thing I said, did you?” 

“Hm?” 

“I was telling you to close the canvas of it at night because of the wind– Are you even hearing a thing?” But as he follows his friend's line of sight he knows he isn’t. Letting go of his own obligations for the time being, he stands beside Taehyung, crossing his arms and admiring his dogs running as the waves serve as background music to his ears. It’s peaceful. It’s his piece of peace on earth. 

“She shines, doesn’t she?” 

Namjoon peaks at his friend before looking ahead once more, with a fond smile finding his features. “She does… She has been our recent source of joy. Yumi and I laugh so much because of her lately.” 

“Yeah, she seems fun,” Taehyung muses with a chuckle of his own still enamored by the scene displayed in front of him. Deo falls to the soft sand in laughter and both dogs come flying toward her. 

“Poor girl… She was dumped here by some surfer. Could you believe that?” 

There is a sorrowful pause and Taehyung is suddenly snapped out of his trance, indignity brimming in his eyes as his friend shakes his head clearly saddened by the situation. 

Returning his view to the girl ahead, he adds, “What kind of jerk would do that? She seems so bubbly and… Caring–” 

“You want to take her to Seoul?” Namjoon interrupts and he almost gasps. 

“Take her?!”

“Yeah, take her. I mean, I think she would be happy with you there…” 

“You think she would like to come with me?” Taehyung’s fingers tingle with the possibility, even if he himself doubts it a little. 

“Sure! We just have to give her one last shot and she’s good to go! The vet–”

“Wait. What? What are you talking about?” 

Namjoon stares at him suddenly confused, and then back at the beach again. As Deo hops by, calling for both Monnie and Tan, his eyebrows soften in understanding. 

“Oh… It’s not Monnie, is it?” He muses playfully. “You’re talking about Yewon… I see,” 

“Yewon…” Taehyung mumbles her name to himself. “So her name is Yewon, huh…”

But the impish nudges he receives on his side snap him out of his thoughts and let him know that Namjoon won’t be letting go of this confession so soon. 

In the cozy beachside hostel, the evening breeze whispers through open windows, carrying with it the laughter of tenants. With a lighthearted step, Deo finds herself in the pantry where Namjoon is absorbed in a way to easy recipe for lounge snacks. Fishing his phone out of her jeans, a small smile plays on her lips as she extends the device toward him. 

“Here you go, boss,” she remarks, her voice playful as she not only returns his phone but also substitutes the sugar jar in his hand with the salt and pepper. 

Namjoon glances up, chuckling at his clumsiness. “We were almost in trouble there. You’re a lifesaver.” 

As he takes the phone from the table filled with condiments, he can’t help but tease, “You should probably get one of your own, don’t you think?” 

“Eh. It’s just a hassle really… I only use it to talk to our guests.” 

Leaving him to his impromptu cooking, she strolls out to the porch, where the new visitors are gathering. The atmosphere is lively, with conversations and newfound curiosity filling the air. Deo effortlessly mingles, chatting with familiar faces and welcoming newcomers that pass by the beach. 

Among the crowd, she notices Taehyung engrossed in a ping pong game, as she takes some beers to a group playing Jenga. His infectious laughter captivates everyone around him and she can’t help but smile at the view. Her gaze lingers, catching his eye for a fleeting second. 

She points with her head to the group around him, wearing a playful smile on her lips, and lifting her thumb up to measure how he is doing tonight she waits for his response. Immediately he raises his own finger positively, his smile opening wider at her caring gesture to check on him. 

Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out, causing momentary confusion and their brief interaction to cease. Murmurs and laughter rise as the guests fumble in the dark. Deo is the only one chuckling expectant as she knows what is to come. 

Then, not ten seconds later, Yumi’s voice pierce the darkness through a megaphone. “Ladies and gents, it’s game time!” 

The announcement is met with cheers and applause, and the porch transforms into a playground of excitement. Deo herself feels the rush of anticipation buzz down to the tip of her fingers as the group prepares for a surprise game under the stars, even though she replays the script made by her and Yumi earlier on in her mind.

The last time Taehyung stayed here, he arrived so tired from a late-night flight that he wasn’t able to participate in the welcoming game he knew Yumi organized every month, and he regretted it for the whole week he rented a room. This night was all every guest he met by the beach was able to talk about, and now he was ready to find why. 

As some fairy lights and a big screen illuminate the space, Deo watches the handsome newcomer’s silhouette amid the glow. His grin was unmistakable as he raised a red cup, ready to dive open-heartedly into whatever it was that the hosts had prepared.

Supposedly, every time Yumi and Namjoon did this for the new guests to ambient themselves and feel more comfortable around everyone else, they prepared a scavenge hunt inside and outside of the hostel's bounds. But this week everything had gone to space and changes had to be made at the last minute. 

Between losing a long-time employee and having to train Deo on the spot, as well as managing the surf lessons and running the business, the couple had little to no time to arrange the things needed for the anticipated scavenge hunt. So this month, Deo pitched in with a rather easy game to orchestrate and that would still promote the mingling of the visitors—Simon Says. 

“And… Start!” Yumi exclaimed as she pressed the button to start the presentation on the projection screen. 

Big crimson red letters appear giving instructions and the crowd thrillingly follows. “Simon says: make a group with four girls and three guys” it reads at first and everyone fumbles their way to find open spots. Deo herself is forced to join as two guests she had come to know, pull her to their side. The thrill of the game intertwined with the salt-kissed wind made her feel some sense of belonging that she had never really expected. 

“Three guys, three girls!”

In the throes of the chaos of the match, it was inevitable however how Taehyung’s gaze followed the sound of Deo’s laughter. Even if their eyes meet in brief moments, and even if it was in the middle of an ongoing competition, a silent connection seemed to pull them to each other like gravity. 

As the game reaches its apex, the tension in the air is palpable. The players’ laughter overlaps with the sound of Yumi’s megaphone, creating a symphony of fun. They aren’t completely strangers now. There is a spontaneous connection formed between them all, just like the hosts had intended it to. 

“One guy, one girl! Quick!”, Yumi reads the screen through the megaphone overexcited, and the remaining participants eye each other in confusion while the rest of the crowd laughs entertained. “Oh–” 

Taehyung steals a glance at his two partners, both male, and they all chuckle amused, not really knowing how to proceed. 

“I think I messed up when writing this– Wait.” Yumi confesses to the crowd sheepishly, starting to move toward the laptop to try and fix the mistake. 

But then Taehyung feels like someone is watching him through his peripheral, and when he turns his head, it’s her. Deo stands two feet away from him, close to Yumi, watching joyfully, and he suddenly knows what to do. Or better, his heart does. 

With two quick steps, he reaches for her hand, pulling her gently to his side and attracting everyone else’s attention to their figures, Yumi’s included. In the midst of the applause and collective cheer, Deo’s mute inquiry reaches his eyes. 

The porch begins to transform into a realm of unity and exhilaration, being lit by the moonlight and the shared spirit of the guests, but not that any of the two notice, as the girl is too enchanted by her last-minute partner’s orbs. Taehyung's big brown eyes pierce hers with certainty and a flash of curiosity that is almost childlike. 

A shared smile floats between them as her sight falls to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the joy of the evening and perhaps the butterflies that flutter rapidly in their stomachs.

The lights had gone out, but the bonds forming under the starry August sky seemed to shine even brighter. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: When you look into a girl’s eyes you can tell if she’s compatible with you or not. I can see who she is through it… And in that moment I felt it. I knew that she and I would be compatible. 

“We have our winner for tonight!” Yumi exclaims through the megaphone as they keep staring into each other’s eyes, “Congrats!” 

Amidst the fading echoes of the beachside game’s conclusion, jubilant cheers resound from the open porch of the hostel. The sun had retreated long before the gathering had started, ceding its reign to a canvas of twilight hues, but now fireworks burst into existence, painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. 

The couple, different from the majority of the crowd who excitedly run towards the shores, stands hand in hand still. A silent connection stronger than the clamor. With each explosion, Taehyung’s gaze shifts from the spectacle to Deo, seeing in her eyes a breezeful wonder that makes him rendered. Yet, it’s not just the pyrotechnics that leave him breathless. As he watches her, a quiet realization dawns—his heart races to a rhythm he hadn’t known before. It’s more than just curiosity. At that moment, amid the splendor of the fireworks and the tranquil beauty of the night, Taehyung recognizes the gentle tug of love. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: I liked everything about her… The way she looked at things and the way she smelled. How she had two funky single braids done in her loose strands and the clothes she threw together without much effort making an all-together beachy look. 

ılı.lıl taehyung: Everything about her seemed perfect to me. I just… I really liked her.

Sort by Oldest first ↓

supertuna Maybe it’s because I’ve been dating for so long… But I find dating stories uhm… Kind of funny now keke 

callmerinie “And it was at that moment that the fireworks went off…” 🤭🤭 

tangerimin You bet they heard bells, too. I heard it was explosions of fireworks 😏

⤷ notmekeys i’m too drnk to answee this

supertuna I think everyone feels like their own love life is special like in a movie or something

notmekeys it’s a beautiful story tho

⤷ notmekeys there waas a guy who found a butiful woman on a trip and and the night they met fireworkss went off peww pew!

⤷ notmekeys their eyes met bang !! theirr hearts too

bluengrey But those things can happen all at once… At least I think so. 

boreo well… if the woman is insanely pretty that’s possible. don’t you think?

⤷ tangerimin That’s exactly when you have to realize it’s just too good to be true, don’t you think? 

supertuna Let’s say you wake up from that dream, then what happens if you don’t get together?

⤷ callmerinie then you die alone

⤷ notmekeys no. no no. i’m not alone. 

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bluengrey Hmm

bluengrey I would still fall for her..

boreo if i met him again… i’d fall in love again

bluengrey Yes, I think I would.

NEXT EPISODE ▸ ❤️‍🩹— singguks | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

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✩ taglist !

✩ @taespocket ( birthday girl ) ✩ @bluenpjm @magicshopew @september-husband @sofiameetsevil @telejoonie @itshanic @hobilyss @dropsofjoonpiter @narimiese @socksjinie @starvvie

[flowercrowngods]

cw suicide mention & imagery

original play idea where people seem to live their normal lives but the audience gets the feeling that something’s wrong, there’s a tension and there are things that obviously go unsaid that hang in the air between the characters uncomfortably long enough until the last member of the audience has filled in the blanks in their own way.

there is a figure off to the side, a very young man in a suit, watching them, unmoving and silent, and as the scenes and progress, as characters leave and appear, as the setting changes, the young man is always there. no one interacts with him, but there are moments when they almost do. when the characters stop what they’re doing when they stand close to him, and appear to listen. but there’s nothing.

the sound of TV news reports, all playing over each other, create an uncanny and uncomfortable buzzing that never, never stops, and there are too many to really make out the words. they get more silent the closer they get to the young man in the suit, quieting down to nothing when they stand by him to listen — but the characters seem unaware of the change. so does the young man, statuesque though he is.

then there’s a little girl, covered in dirt, her hair askew, her cheeks rosy — the image of having spent the day outside, playing in the dirt, a smile on her face, her eyes big, as she skips towards the young man and asks, “can we go now? can we play?”

the young man cards his hands through her hair and says, “you go ahead, i’ll be right there.”

but still he stays there, seated.

everything continues as before, but the characters slowly undergo a complete change in character, in routine, in appearance. the old man who wore suits is not dressed in sweats and old, worn out, dirty shirts. the sweet, kindhearted young adult is now quiet and apathetic. the woman who, in the beginning, was talking her friend’s ear off and could barely stand still is unmoving now, staring out into nothingness.

the buzzing and bustling background noise is slowly, gradually getting louder as the characters become increasingly nonverbal and unmoving. the lights dim down.

then all at once, after a crescendo, the noise stops suddenly, the lights turn off completely, before, with warm, yellow light, a woman we’ve seen before — as she stares into nothingness — appears on the stage, slowly approaching the young man as if unsure of her body but undeniable in her grace.

they smile at each other for a moment.

m, whispering: you’re not supposed to be here, not yet

w, cradling his cheeks: i was always supposed to be here long, long before you

m: i know. i’m sorry, i—

w: i know. i forgive you. i’ve always forgiven you

m, after a while: but not yourself

the woman shakes her head.

w: a mother will never forgive herself for burying her child, and a father will forgive himself even less. (a beat) you have such a handsome face.

m: it’s not your fault

w: so beautiful, those eyes, i’ve missed you so much

m: listen to me, it’s not your fault!

w: and your hair! papa would be so glad to know that—

m: mother. mama. listen to me. it’s not your fault

w, tearful and whispering: you were supposed to be fine. you were always supposed to be fine. it was never supposed to be this bad, we were supposed to help, but—

m: i know. i tried, i really did. both times

in that moment, the little girl comes skipping on stage again, approaching them with her wagging ponytail.

g: what are you doing here, mama? will you play with me now? it’s been so long!

the woman gasps, her tears getting the better of her as she falls to her knees and pulls the girl to her chest, who readily returns the hug

w, sobbing, kissing her cheek: hi, baby. yes, i’ll play with you, of course i will. let’s go.

the young man helps his mother up, allowing her to pull him into a hug, and she whispers: “as much as i love her with all my heart, i’m so proud of the young man you’ve grown into. and now i have you both, just as i always did.”

the young man brushes a kiss to her cheek, then lets her go, watching as his mother disappears with the little girl.

m: i have to stay a while. i’ll follow you soon.

(woman and girl, hand in hand, exeunt)

the lights dim, and the buzzing returns, accompanied by the sound of dragging footsteps the audience cannot see, until everything’s back in total darkness. the noise stays. growing louder in increments, leaving the audience uncomfortable and unsure if this was it.

as they quiet down, we hear a man, sobbing uncontrollably, before eerie silence takes his place, too.

the curtain falls.

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

A Long Talk With clipping. About CLPPNG

10 years later, Daveed Diggs, Jonathan Snipes, and William Hutson discuss their sophomore album and Sub Pop debut.

[...] In the 10 years since clipping.’s first studio album, CLPPNG, was released with legendary Seattle label Sub Pop, a lot has happened: Donald Trump, #BlackLivesMatter, the pandemic, Hamilton (which might seem out of place in this list, but it was certainly life-changing for Diggs, who suddenly found himself a household name—and not for his rap projects, but for his swaggering, indelible Broadway portrayal of America’s third president, Thomas Jefferson). But despite Diggs’s meteoric rise and clipping.’s growing cult following—despite undergoing the hellscape of the past decade like the rest of us—the beating (or, perhaps, beeping) heart of the trio remains the same: a sheer love for music, experimentation and each other.

[...] I love that you have this philosophy of constraints that’s really generative, but at the same time, you don’t constrain yourself to the constraints, and you’re willing to let them go in service of a song. Where does that philosophy originate for you all?

Snipes: The sweet spot, at least for me, is when the concept is incredibly audible, you know? It’s actually not when we gear the concept with layers and production stuff, it’s when we actually are very, very narrow in how we present it. And there are times where the concept becomes inaudible, when we’ve done all this work and we don’t get credit for it. In those cases, we’re pretty quick to abandon it and just make something that has, like, an aesthetic. But I think the real goal for me when doing this really conceptual stuff—and not all our songs are like this—are creating songs that you hear and you know exactly how they’re working, like “Run For Your Life” or “Get Up.” And it’s still a good song and the process is communicated. It’s like a weird little triumvirate of all these things lighting up. This was true to a degree in “Dream,” too—there are a lot of concepts sort of coexisting in that song. We have field recordings of birds cut into rhythmic loops so that they’re falling on beat; we have these drums re-amped from hundreds of feet away in nature, and I think that’s audible. I think you can tell that that’s happening. And then Daveed is rapping very closely into binaural mics and a dummy head—the idea is, if you listen to it in headphones, it’s like Daveed is literally behind your head, which…sort of works! [laughter]

[...] Misogyny has a long history in rap—and in most music, honestly—and while clipping. plays on those tropes, it often feels carefully constructed, such that it doesn’t ever quite feel like it’s perpetuating them. I’d imagine that’s always a bit of a minefield, though, so how much does that awareness play into your songwriting? Or is it more of a subconscious choice?

Diggs: I think we’re aware of it, or we were certainly aware of it early on—I don’t think about it as much anymore. I used to be really careful about pronouns; there were songs that switched gender pronouns in the middle for no reason. Like, I used to be really specific about this.

Like “Wriggle,” I think—the chorus says “girl” one time and “boy” the next, if I’m remembering correctly.

Diggs: Yeah, “Wriggle” for sure. But even things about a single character, I used to try and sneak those things in just to complicate the issue a little bit more—and also to feed into the initial “no first-person,” the “no central narrative spine” or “human at the center” of these things. I mean, of course it’s clearly my voice rapping it, but I thought maybe, “Oh, if we complicate the gender pronouns a little bit, that might make it more amorphous, might help with that.”

Hutson: We definitely do use misogyny as a trope—as a feature of rap music. It’s deployed in our music in a way that’s, like, referential more than anything else. It feels like there’s scare quotes around it, almost. We started out as a band that played at The Smell and all these places where we knew the people who ran the place, we knew everyone in the audience, we knew all the other bands and they knew exactly who we were. So when Daveed would say “it’s clipping., bitch” at the end of the show, they knew we were sort of jokingly referring to Britney Spears saying that, you know? But once we grew outside of an audience that knew us personally, that knew our politics and felt safe with us, I think we started to use those things less often. We were aware of and worried that people are going to hear us and actually take meaning from it about who we are or might be, and we don’t want to have to go around explaining the use of that word. That word does still appear, but again, it always feels, to me, like it’s in some sort of scare quotes in the songs. I think it’s clear, and we haven’t run into people, like, willfully misinterpreting our deployment of misogyny as anything more than a sonic choice—as something that feels recognizable as rap. Because there are words like that, you know?

[...] Daveed, I think you’ve talked before about how rap is all about partying with the horror—through the horror—of day-to-day miseries, which feels like such a central thematic beat for clipping. The third-person-omniscient perspective of many of the songs on CLPPNG, for instance, allows for both distance and intimacy in a really interesting way. Thinking of, for example, “Inside Out” or “Check the Lock,” although that’s from a later album—those are songs that let us see reality in all its clinical brutality while still highlighting the desperate attempts to party through it. How do you maintain that balancing act of party/horror, of dance music/grim reality?

Diggs: I think horror is maybe too strong of a word, unless we’re talking about our horror records, but I think what rap music is good at is not only refusing to soften the hardness of reality but sometimes exaggerating it too—and then making it into party music. It’s the revelation in the late ‘70s, early ‘80s, that just because you were sampling disco music didn’t mean it had to be “hip hop, hippie to the hippie, the hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop,” you know what I’m saying? Like, you could tell real life stories on top of danceable beats. That’s the thing that rap music has always been really good at—so we’re just continuing that. Although these are not real life stories, they are doing the same thing. They’re not fun stories, on top of danceable beats.

Hutson: Yeah, they take place in a version of the world as it is. And joy still exists, even though everything looks terribly fucked up.

[...] Final question: Back in 2014, did you think that you would still be doing clipping. 10 years later?

Hutson: I think—well, we expected to still be friends, and we’d been friends for so long before this that I always figured this is a band that will never break up. We can always just make another album when we feel like it. So no, I didn’t think that we were going to be a success. But, I did think that the three of us would hang out and keep doing this, when we had the time, for, really, the rest of our lives.

[krysta-cross]

Don’t Rain on my parade (part 2)

So I made a second spicy part to appease lol jk 🤭 I am half awake drinking coffee as I write this filth lol

Tagging: @thevoidwriting here is the 2nd part

Warning: this second part is spicy, filthy, nsfw— read at your own risk

Link to the first part: https://www.tumblr.com/krysta-cross/722418740682162176/dont-rain-on-my-parade

Rain instructed his colleagues to take care of the injured students as the test came to an end. He is still carrying you in his arms and lay you down on his bed, he immediately summoned the best healing mages of the academy to his quarters to tend on your injuries. He specifically instructed them to do the best they can to make sure you will live to see tomorrow or he will punish them immensely, not even showing his pent up guilt of causing this. The poor threatened mages put in their best effort to heal your wounds and change your clothes, after hours of spells they succeeded in saving your life. One of them went to tell Rain about the treatment success. “Head mage, we managed to heal her severe wound, her scratches and bruises and performed transfusion to make up for her blood loss. She will be awake later on.” he bowed his head down as he speak to the purple and gold clad mage who keenly watched as they do their job. “Very well, you both can leave now and assist the other injured fledglings.” he ordered and the pair immediately scurry out of the room.

The water mage sat down on the bedside to take a closer look at you. On your unconscious state he took his sweet time observing your now steady breaths, your lips slightly parted and your chest rising and falling as you breathe. “You have potential, you just need to undergo training and you can aid me on my works after sometime, little vixen…” he whispered and caressed your warm cheek. He can’t help but to stare at your calm face and lean closer, now inches away where he can feel your warm exhales from your lips.

You then opened your eyes and it met his so close so you felt threatened, the flashback of the previous fight unearthed from your memory. Your shocked response is to push him but you’re still too weak to even do so, the mage felt you’re threatened so he held both your hands that is on his chest and said “Apologies for startling you, I am just checking if you’re alright now, don’t force yourself to move…”

You snatched your hands away from his grasp and positioned yourself to sit upright, your back on the headboard. “What happened to our test? Did I pass?” you asked anxiously, knowing that your last attack didn’t even leave a scratch on him. “You did, I admit I didn’t expect you to use your own blood to shoot at me and that’s impressive, though it’s so weak it didn’t even made an impact. Nevertheless you did splendidly out of all the newbies so I will congratulate you and take you as my personal apprentice from today on, Y/N. Be prepared for the hellish training I will put you through to hone your talents.” he told you and that filled your heart with glee and dread at the same time as he had mentioned a hellish training but you sighed heavily to ease the building tension and spoke “Thank you master Rain, I will be in your care then, please be patient with me as I am really clueless sometimes but I am very much willing to learn from you!” your voice tone rises as you talk to him, you simply cannot contain the excitement as you just didn’t manage to pass but the head mage acknowledged your talents and took you as his personal student. That itself is a golden opportunity for a nobody like you.

Rain chuckled as he heard your response,”You are indeed something, Y/N. I gotta admit I am not a patient type of person but I will try to be patient with you as you wish, please do the same for me.“ he said and tucked some of your hair behind your ear which stunned you and left you speechless.

The head mage moved closer to you from where he was sitting a while ago and cupped your face and whispered in his husky voice “You’re beautiful up close, Y/N. Did you cast a spell on me to be drawn to you like this?” he leans so close, you can feel his breath near your lips, seemingly waiting for your reaction but you are too stunned to even react so he took his chance and kissed you, his playful tongue played around your warm mouth and you can’t help but moan as he conquered your lips. You can feel his hands crawling around your body, making their way under your top and his warmth are sending sparks of heat in you that you feel your knees weaken even if you’re sitting upright on the bed that you wrapped your arms around his neck for support as his kiss goes deeper and intense he is now going down on your neck down to your collar bone, trailing kiss marks over them as he go.

“Uhhhnnnn, m-master Rain…” you uttered softly as you feel his touches and kisses all over you.

“Y/N, you drive me crazy and it’s unbelievable since we’ve just met… I can’t stop myself for wanting you this bad.” he whispered in your ear and that made your heart skip a beat. Never in your wildest dream you thought someone as beautiful and majestic as this man will be mad for you this fast. The surge of your emotions got you washed over and you kissed him back, throwing your inhibitions out of the window which he reciprocated with a tight hug and another deep kiss, the heat of the moment consumed you as you went on.

You knew the man is experienced as he already removed your bra under your shirt and already working on the tied belt on your waist. His impatience showing as he is doing all this so fast while his mouth is busy silencing yours that your moans are all kept in, a way not to make anyone hear a sound from this secluded chamber.

He managed to remove your top clothing and pulled off from the kiss to appreciate the half naked beauty in front of him. You felt anxious under his gazes and hugged yourself but he pinned your arms above your head and indulged himself on your rich mounds, he has a way with his mouth that he knew how to tease you from there. You bit your lower lip to stop the impending sounds lumping on your throat as he romances you, you can feel his other hand touching your inner thighs, his fingers are now playing on your still clothed clit that you can feel yourself getting wet on each stroke.

He stopped teasing your nipples and went back to torridly kissing you, he lets go of your hands in hostage so he can use his other hand to caress your breast as his other hand is working on removing your last pieces of clothing. Your tied on belt is already undone a while ago so he yanked your skirt and shorts down, leaving only your thin silk lace panty covering you.

He pulled away from you and you blankly stared at the man removing his clothes in front of you, leaving nothing on. His godly features in full glory for you to see. You can feel your tension rising as you look at his erect dick, your mind trying to process if this size will even fit where it will.

“Keep your drool in check, Y/N. I don’t like them on my covers.” he said and laughed as you touched your mouth to check if you are drooling which isn’t the case, you felt embarrassed as he got you like that.

You turned your head away in embarrassment but you are taken by surprise as he lifted you up, his hands are on each of your thighs, supporting your weight as he positioned himself between your legs, you don’t have an option but to grab onto his bulky shoulders, your face are now so close and you can feel his heartbeat as your chests are pressed against each other.

“Can we go all the way, Y/N?” he sweetly asked, staring at you while waiting for your response.

Your mind is in shambles, you know you’re inexperienced in this aspect as you spent most of your life training and didn’t even date anyone until now. You felt like you will bore him or if you can take on his size but the sensation and heat of the moment won you over and the only words you can come up with to tell him is “make me yours…”

After hearing your reply, Rain spared no time to proceed. You can feel his hardness pressing on your wet opening with only your thin underwear in between them. He pushed the cloth aside and you can feel him entering slowly, your virginity is already his to take in few moments but you are too drunk on your desires to even think straight. The pain as he makes his way in intensifies that you hugged him tighter, buried your head on his neck in an attempt to stop yourself from letting out any sound. He felt you trembling in his arms so he gently kissed your ear and say “I’m sorry if this hurts but I can stop if you want…”. His concern touched you that the pain was slowly numbed by his words like magic. “Don’t stop, please…” you begged in between your breaths and braced yourself for him. You can feel him pushing his hard dick deeper into your cunt and finally made it all the way in, you can feel him throbbing inside your wet, warm cave. You gasped as he started to go in and out, his thrusts goes faster and deeper that you can’t hide your screams of pleasure which is like a sweet music in his ears.

“Y/N, you are mine and only mine!” he said in a commanding voice as he rammed his merciless cock deeper, he placed you gently down the bed without pulling out and continued to thrust in and out of your warm slick cunt. “R-Rain unghh~ haaaaaahhhh…” you muttered as you feel him touching the sweet spot and teasing your body with his playful hands. You can hear his soft moans and breathing as he went on, his body heat engulfing your frail body under his like a warm blanket on a winter day. His movements are becoming faster, his breaths getting deeper and you can just moan in ecstasy. He used his strong arms to lift his upper body off of you, he is now staring at you, under him as he continues to move. You reached your now sweaty hands to touch his face, this moment seems like a dream that touching him and feeling this warmth radiating from his tanned skin still feels unreal.

“Rain… give it all to me…” you said as you feel him tensing up inside you, signifying he is nearing his climax and so are you.

He smirked and leaned down, his lips touching your ear and whispered “I don’t plan on pulling out, Y/N.” His words with his warm breath sent tickles on your feet as you felt him going faster and hugging you so tight as he let his seeds flood inside you, coating your walls with the warm fluid that you feel it overflowing out of you.

You are still floating in pleasure, catching your breath after that intense love making that your body feels numb for a while, you can still feel his weight over you and he slowly lifts himself up and pulls out, he watched as his cum flows out of you and smiles. He noticed that his purple bed covers are stained with a mixture of your bodily fluid with the blood being the most vibrant one, he is too engrossed with your activity to notice it.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he worriedly asked, the mage seemed to be always worried every time he sees your blood.

“Mmm, yes… I think so… ugh—” you answered weakly and grunts, the body pains slowly creeping up to you now as the adrenaline dies down.

“You’re a virgin, did you not regret giving it to me?” the water mage asked, as he rolled on your side to face you.

“I told you to make me yours and you did, I think regret is out of the question.” you assured him and caressed his cheek.

“Y/N, you don’t have any idea how you made me happy today… you are mine and I am yours now. I hope I can make you happy, always.” Rain told you as he planted a kiss on your lips.

“This is more than I could ask for…” you said and leaned your head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat like a slow lullaby as you fell asleep.

Hope this is good enough haha~

[justajsworkshop]

I had gone into a slump with the whole forcing myself to feel good and repeated conscious fulfillment to get back into the state and making it natural. I felt like I was forcing everything and it was very exhausting.

I used to be hyper aware of my thoughts and feelings and kept doubting myself, I just could not trust that I was doing it right. And that’s when I had a moment where I thought that despite knowing that ‘I’ am just awareness, I was putting too many limitations on myself. I was still confining mySELF to a set of rules to achieve something. What I was not doing was trusting I AM. And that imo, is the only ‘requirement’. Be still and know. This is something that is often ignored but I’m starting to realize that it might be the only thing to be done.

I’ve been feeling so light and free since letting go of all these self imposed limitations. If I AM is everything and Creation is Finished then why does fulfillment have to be something that has to be achieved. Idk where I’m going with this but its funny because all of a sudden, I dont feel the need to read any more posts or watch any more videos on the law. I AM the law of being, besides me there is no law. I AM that I AM.

you’re reflecting back everything that’s changed in me in the past 48 hours or so. i stopped feeling the urge to watch manifestation content, including tom’s stuff, or to even listen to subs tbh. i trust in nothing more than my conscious choice of being. i might dip into tom’s content here and there, but i don’t feel like i need to because im missing anything.

we like to over complicate things by thinking we have to undergo a process to get things or that we have to do to make things happen when the law above all laws is the law of being: who and what are you conscious of being. self concept work isn’t just to speed up your manifestations or to make things easier. self concept work is literally all there is because everything that’s manifested IS a reflection of who you know yourself to be. there’s only one being here, and that being is you.

every desire is a divine urge for god to know itself as god—for the changeless one being to know itself as all that is by experiencing another single vantage point within the infinite ones available. you are and have always been your greatest desire. mega congrats on this awakening within yourself. because now you get to have and be anything since you already know yourself as everything.

[thebeetleball]

sorry need to be abnormal over my favorite horror game rq since its the sixth anniversary. the first little nightmares' ending is the opposite of the prequel's but it's still just as grim and i'll die on this hill.

specifically, i'm thinking about what tarsier posted in celebration of the anniversary and how they captioned it;

getting thus out of the way right now i do Not think six is the lady, i think that theory only ever came to be because of the thin man and mono's situation and if you hold it up to any scrutiny it falls apart, but i do think they're deeply tied to each other in a more . symbolic way? i do not think six takes the lady's place at the end of LN1, i think she escapes from the maw and leaves it to rot, as it deserves, but she doesn't really leave it. 

as the game progresses, six's hunger drives her to eat more and more disturbing things; bread, raw meat, a rat, a child, and finally the lady herself. not only that, but her musical cues changes over the game as well. there's multiple different tracks for hunger and six's own theme undergoes a dramatic shift, with part I being droning instrumental and quiet, nervous humming, and part II having a more upbeat hum contrasted against overbearing an brass instrumental, in both tracks the humming is eventually either cut off or drowned out by the music. in the comics, there's a repeated theme about six not knowing who she is, most notably the hunchback girl's line about how you don't know what you'll see if you look in a mirror.

there's an emphasis on change and not knowing yourself when it comes to six, and it confirms for me that despite their endings being tonal opposites, both of the little nightmares games are about cycles; just in different ways.

LN2 is about a little boy who wasn't able to escape a cruel, abusive environment, and eventually grows up to be another bitter adult, another cog in the machine. LN1 is about a little girl who was able to escape the environment that harmed her, but not without taking a piece with her. childhood trauma changes you, you're not the same person you were before it, you can leave your house but your house doesn't leave you.

the six who held mono's hand and hugged nomes, or played with toys at the playground, is not the six who lashed out and left him behind or the six who devoured other people just to survive. the six who was running from the adults that operate the maw is not the six who took the lady's powers. at the end of the story, six sits exactly where the people who hurt her did, she wasn't able to remove herself from the maw's food chain, only scale it and become the apex predator. she changed, the maw changed her, like all trauma does.

which isn't her fault at all, full stop the obsession some people have with portraying six as evil or malicious, or even worse, deserving of what happens to her in LN1, is appalling to me. i genuinely can't fathom how you can play a game so clearly about childhood trauma and abuse and come out of it putting her and mono in "bad victim vs good victim" roles. there's no right or wrong way to be a victim, there's literally only just victims, the real villains of the story are the adults who put them in this situation in the first place.

six isn't wrong for killing the workers aboard the maw, but it's still deeply sad to me that the story plays out the way it does, that the circumstances are what they are. LN1 ends with her going up, out into the sun where everything is bright and golden, but she's all alone and she's taking apart of the lady with her, she couldn't survive without taking from the lady, she couldn't survive without having to become someone else.

tldr; you know that scene at the end of chirin's bell? "what they saw was neither wolf nor sheep but some unknown creature that made their blood run cold?" yeah.

[flowercrowncrip]

hey echo, i'm really relieved you made it through the weekend and i'm so excited for your merfolk costume! i've always loved swimming and mer and, since becoming a wheelchair user myself, i've found imagery of mers using mobility aids creatively inspiring. i may have to try my hand at crocheting an eel or shark tail blanket for halloween

what i'm really writing in to say is that i had surgery a few weeks ago, intersex reconstructive surgery (stage one) under the "guise" of gender affirming surgery (for insurance purposes!) and i haven't been able to use my wheelchair at all during recovery. the farthest i can walk is to-from the restroom, but that's very dangerous, painful, and exhausting. i may need a revision to allow me to ever comfortably and safely use my chair again - this is, in part, the fault of my surgeons for not also consulting with a durable medical equipment specialist pre-op/providing one for me to consult with, but i also failed to opt out of a choice that was bundled into the surgical package normally and, for me, is FULLY cosmetic and not essential to function.

i'm really upset with myself for making the best choice for my health and mobility, and upset with my surgeons for not properly advising me as a patient. this is fixable however, i just... have to tolerate a reduced quality of life, reduced mobility, increased risk to my health, and of course the expected risks of a person with severe rheumatoid arthritis undergoing further surgery. i talk to my surgeons this week about revision! however, i was wondering if you had any advice for dealing with... feeling so frustrated with yourself over things like this? it is so, so unlike me to make such an impactfully negative choice regarding my health and mobility, and i can't help but feel stupid. my therapist (who is a trans woman herself) is very sympathetic, but isn't chronically ill, and doesn't fully grasp how impactful this is. i can't even go outside... ):

thank you so much echo, sending you all my love

That sounds like you’re going through a lot and that it’s very raw and emotional right now, which is totally understandable.

Every disabled person I know has made decisions that have harmed them. And I really mean everyone. Sometimes we don’t know what the consequences will be, sometimes it feels like the benefits will outweigh the risks, sometimes we’re pressured into making the decision that ultimately hurts us, sometimes we don’t realise how bad it will be, there’s so many reasons

I’ve certainly done it – in small ways that lead to temporary flares and in big ways that have permanently changed my body. I’ve also made decisions that could have impacted me really badly and came away, by pure luck, without anything bad happening.

I definitely have regrets over some of those choices, but I have gotten to the point where I don’t hate my past self for making them. I hope that with time you can get there too

Absolutely nobody goes through life without making choices they later regret. As disabled people we’re unlucky that a lot of our choices have higher stakes than non disabled people, but we’re still human and we can’t expect to be perfect and always get things right. And that’s okay

It doesn’t sound to me like you chose to be unable to use your wheelchair, it sounds like you chose to undergo surgery you thought would improve your life in different ways. A lot of people – most likely me included – would make that same choice. And I’m sure there are many possible worlds where you made the same choice and could still use your wheelchair safely.

I know (albeit through very different circumstances) how devastating it is to be without a wheelchair for longer periods with no clear end in sight and I offer you all the sympathy I can. I hope you can find things that bring you comfort and interest in less than ideal circumstances. I don’t know if you want advice about coping with being unable to get out, so I won’t offer any here but I’m happy to share what helped me if you ever want to know.

I wish you all the best with recovery and whatever your next steps are – whether they include revision or not.

On a less serious note I would absolutely love to see a crocheted eel or shark tail if you make one! They both sound amazing! (Or any craft projects – I love seeing what people create)

I’m the same with being inspired by how much disability comes into the stories of merfolk – chronic pain, speech loss and mobility aid use are so tied up in them that there’s so much room for disabled imagination. (And also queer imagination!)

That’s definitely a huge part of why it’s my pride outfit, and I’m really looking forward to wearing it out. I got a rainbow bubble machine today to add some extra fun to it all!

Sending you so much love in return 💜