#it was at that point I probably should’ve realized I was not fit to work

[samglyph]

Oh though a funny side effect of my emotional turmoil is I explained to my bookstore coworker/friend that I was feeling down and he said “I’ve got something that will cheer you up” and handed me a manga about eldritch gods as cats. When he pointed out the cat king in yellow I did in fact burst in to tears.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Alternate title for this chapter is : “I need him in a way that’s concerning to feminism”. Enjoy!! Chapter Title is from I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 20.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You start to work of Ben's PTSD. Everyone takes a little break. Usual warnings

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

“Ben.” Her voice dragged through Ben’s head, pulling him from a strange, dark peace. “Ben, wake up.”

He groaned, and She started poking him. “Fuck off,” he muttered, unwilling to entertain even the fucking idea of opening his eyes.

“Ben,” Her voice was muffled, and she was squirming against him in a way that made the Thing start to rise into his head. “Ben, you’re really fucking big.”

The Thing was fully awake now, and if She kept moving around like that Ben might have to throw her across the room. The world began to creep into attention, lifting him further from the mindless, perfectly fucking numb state he’d been under as it did. There was light pushing under his eyes, a linen blanket lying across his back, something soft against his face, and Her heartbeat below his.

“I can’t fucking breathe, Ben. If I die from asphyxiation it’s going to mean a lot of paperwork for you.”

Something that wasn’t the mattress, with a lot more lumps and sharp points, was under him. And She was still fucking rolling around against his chest, making it harder to focus on whatever the hell else was going on.

“I’m giving you five seconds before I’m no longer accountable for my actions.” Her voice rolled through him, and he grunted.

This was comfortable. Ben hadn’t been comfortable in far too fucking long. His brain wasn’t alert, the world was undisturbing against his chest, and everything was warm. Really fucking warm. More like hot, actually. Fucking burning.

By the time Ben realized what was happening, it was too late.

“Fuck!” He launched himself upwards, off the bed, away from the furnace beneath him. “Goddamn it, woman! I was sleeping!”

“Sorry!” She was already out of the bed herself, the apology called over her shoulder as she sprinted to the bathroom, door slamming in her wake.

Ben rubbed his chest, the warmth of where She’d burned him already fading. “You don’t sound fucking sorry,” he grumbled, glaring at the door as the toilet flushed.

She opened the door, walking back into the room with her tongue stuck out mockingly. “You were on top of me. You’re not a small guy, Pretty Boy, and I really needed to pee.” “You should’ve just fucking shook me awake-“

“I tried! For like, ten minutes!”

“Could’ve tried harder.” Ben snapped, and She rolled her eyes.

“You were out like a damn baby, Benjamin. It was either I piss on the bed and we both lie in it until your majesty deemed us fit to move, or I wake you up and we don’t have to do laundry a week early.”

She was—as She always fucking was because the universe hated him—right. And by the smug look on her stupid fucking perfect face, she knew it. The Thing was enjoying her pleased little smirk, transfixed on the way she was looking at Ben with small spark of satisfaction in her eyes, and it was making it really fucking difficult to fight with her.

“Next time you need someone to stop you from burning the damn house down, don’t expect me to fucking be there.” Ben’s low words sounded hollow to his own ears, and she just laughed. It was a damn unhelpful reaction, only making the Thing roll around inside him.

“But if I get locked up for arson, who will heat up your chicken tenders and oatmeal for you?” She teased. “Butcher will have to send you an old folks’ home, and it probably won’t be a nice one.”

“I can heat up my own fucking chicken tenders.” Ben scowled, and She giggled. 

“How very manly of you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She hummed, ignoring him. “You can’t do oatmeal, huh?”

“Oatmeal is for orphans, widows, and pussies.”

She smirked. “And old men.”

“I’m not fucking old, Sunshine.” He snapped, and Her smile grew.

“You’re over a hundred. The fact that you’re not on viagra is a straight act of God.”

Ben scoffed, even as the Thing stared roaring to just fucking grab her and wipe that taunting grin off her face as he proved how little fucking help he needed.

“Not an act of any fucking pussy god, brat, just me.” He winked, and the Thing rumbled, pushing against him as Her heart fluttered and she wrinkled her nose.

“Sure, cunt.” She rolled her eyes. “You and all the scientists who thought you’d use immortality for more than just sex.”

Ben shrugged. “You’re benefiting from it.”

“What?” She looked back at him quickly, and her heart picked up in time with the flush of her face.

Feeling his mouth curl into a smirk of his own as Her’s dropped, Ben winked. “If those pussy scientists didn’t make me immortal, I’d be long dead. And there would be nobody to save your ass all the time.”

“Oh,” She blinked, her heart slowing as she tilted her head. “Well. If they didn’t make you immortal, I probably wouldn’t need saving.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

She looked Ben up and down, her face scrunched in the way that he could fucking see her brain moving. 

But she only met his eyes, giving him a small smile paired with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

He said Her name firmly, narrowing his eyes, but she just rolled her own and moved to the dresser. 

“Go get changed, Ben. And shower, you smell like shit.”

“Sunshine, what the hell were you-“

“Dining room in fifteen. I want to get training done early so we can get started.” She began rummaging through the drawers, a small crease between her eyes.

Ben frowned. “Get started?”

“Yep,” She looked up, giving him a teasing grin. “You made a big mistake, Pretty Boy. You agreed, out loud, to let me work on that fucked up little brain of yours. We’re starting today, before you pussy out.”

“I’m not going to ‘pussy out’.” He grunted. “I’m a man of my fucking word. Which means we don’t have to start right damn now.”

“Maybe.” She pulled out a pair of leggings, bundling them under her arms as she moved to a different drawer. “But we’re going to anyways.”

“Why? No one’s fucking forcing us-” 

“I am.” She turned to face Ben fully, crossing her arms against her chest with a glare. “So haul your fucking ass, Benjamin, before I make you.”

“I’d like to see you try, brat.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as her heart stuttered on cue. “Eat me, cunt.”

The Thing went damn feral, coming up with a lot of creative ways to eat her, many involving her tongue and her cunt and his tongue and her tits, and through the lingering haze of sleep Ben was finding painfully fucking hard to ignore its suggestions. 

Fucking literally, the Thing taunted, and Ben—through an impressive amount of sheer will—ignored it.

“Sunshine, we just fucking woke up-“

“You just woke up,” she shrugged. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Hours?” Ben blinked. “What the fuck do you mean hours?”

“Well, you see time is measured in sixty-second increments, which are made into minutes. Those minutes are added up, also in-“

“No, you fucking brat.” He rolled his eyes, fighting the small smile threatening his lips. “You know goddamn well I’m asking-“

“I’d never seen you really sleep, okay?” She muttered. “I didn’t want to stop it just because I had to pee.”

Ben started a Her, probably looking like a slack-jawed pussy as the Thing started to buck around inside him. It wanted to touch her and feel her and hold her and keep her right next to him all the fucking time-

His voice felt like sandpaper as he spoke. “Sunshine-“

She cut him off, pointing sharply at the door. “Nope. Go get changed.” When Ben only stared at her, she gave him a soft smile. “Don’t get soft on me now, Pretty Boy.”

“I’m not fucking soft,” he grunted, the Thing still fucking pushing at him. She let out a small laugh, her whole fucking face so light and happy, and Ben smirked at her. “I could always prove it to you by-“

“Nope, no time.” She gestured at the door again. “Out.”

“No time?” Ben taunted, very quickly deciding that getting changed was now the least important thing in the world. “So after?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, taking a few steps forward with clothes still tucked under her arm to open the door for him. “Out, Ben. Now.”

Ben didn’t move, grinning widely at Her. “We’re having a fucking conversation. Don’t you know it’s not polite-“

He cut himself off as She hurled herself at him, underwear and leggings falling and abandoned on the floor. Ben watched in amusement as she grabbed his arm and started to pull him, only to immediately think better of it and move behind him in an equally vain attempt to push his body towards the door. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, what are you made of, bricks?” Ben felt Her slam her full body weight against his back, and grinned widely.

“I’ve been hit by a train and lived, Sunshine. I don’t think you’re going to have any more damn luck than it did.”

She paused, breathing heavily. “Steam engine or bullet train?”

“What the fuck is a bullet train?”

Apparently that was an answer to Her, because she started throwing herself back into Ben, strained noises sounding from behind him. “Goddamn-“ Her knee hit his thigh. “Fucking-“ Elbow into his side. “Bigfoot-“ Head pushing his back. “Ass-“ Two flat palms against his shoulders. “Man-” She paused for a second, catching her breath as Ben laughed. “You’re a dick.”

He chuckled. “I’m aware.” There was suspicious silence from behind him, and Ben turned—a little concerned that She’d passed out—right in time to be hit by the full force of Her body as she took a running start. Her arms wrapped around his torso, face pressed into his chest as she planted her feet firmly into the ground. 

Ben didn’t even feel himself fucking stumble, but She was nothing if not dedicated. 

“I fucking hate you, stupid fucking V’ed up asshole, built like a fucking mammoth-“ Ben snorted as She descended into bitter muttering, not budging from her hold.

“This is becoming really fucking sad, Sunshine.” 

“I’ll show you fucking sad, Ben, I’ll make you fucking cry-“

He said Her name in huffed amusement, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m just as immortal as you, you fucking cunt-“ She paused, taking a deep breath through her nose as her brow rested against him. He looked down at her, and She raised her head to meet his gaze.

Her eyes were wide, dilated, and she was breathing heavily through puffed lips. The Thing started to riot inside him, and suddenly Ben was incredibly aware of how Her body was pressed into his, how her hands rested against his back and her chin was perched against his chest. How She was fucking leaning into him and he could feel the speed of her heartbeat, the warmth that radiated from her skin. The image of Her body, still smoking, utterly fucking bare, and just as insufferably perfect as the rest of Her flashed in his head, making the Thing start to bellow. Her hair was pressed against her forehead by sweat, and he wanted to run his hands through it. He wanted to move his hands to where Her neck was craning up a him, and pull her closer-

“That’s enough,” Ben grunted, and as he pulled Her off of his body she made a little yelp that the growing strain in his pants really fucking enjoyed. 

“Ben-“ She let little gasp as he tossed her back onto the bed, and the Thing fucking whined like a fucking pussy. “What the fuck-“

Turning roughly, Ben stomped to the door, picked up Her clothes from the floor, and threw them to her side. Ignoring the Thing scrapping against him to stay—because just fucking look at her, so fucking perfect, sitting on the bed with pretty eyes and soft lips and she just made another little sound when she caught the clothes—Ben forced himself to walk in controlled and even steps down the hall to his room. He closed the door firmly but without a slam, locked it like any fucker who was about to get changed probably would, and fucking caved.

The Thing was getting a lot more fucking specific about its fantasies. Before it had been flashes of images, blurry hypotheticals. Now, as Ben threw his pants to some unimportant corners of the room and chased some sort of goddamn relief in his hand, everything was clear.

She was pressed against him again, looking up at him with blown out pupils and her mouth just barely open. This time he let his hand move up, holding the back of her neck as his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her so tightly against his body she might as well be just another part of him. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, and She opened for him. Easily, like she’d done it a thousand times before. His tongue moved into her mouth and she fucking moaned, hands gripping his shirt in fists as she tried to tug him impossibly closer. He dropped the hand at her hips lower, pressing his palm against her ass before dragging it forward to rest right between her thighs.

She whined, starting to grind against him, and he pulled back, smirking down at her as she moved to frantically pull the front of his shirt, trying to bring his mouth back to hers. He just moved to cup her jaw, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip. 

“Ben,” she whimpered, breath heavy against his fingers as her hand gripped his wrist against her center, trying to make him move.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine? Need something?” 

“You fucking dick-“

“You want my fucking dick, don’t you?” She moaned, head falling forward into his chest. “Tell me you want my fucking dick, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Ben,” she keened again. “You cunt-“

“Your cunt, brat. That’s what we’re talking about.” She fucking whined again, and he chuckled. “You know what you have to do if you want this.”

“Fuck-“ She let out a small, desperate sound. “Fuck you-“

“You will. All you have to say is-“

“Please! Ben, please. Please fuck me, you fucking asshole-“

Ben felt the metal taste of blood in his mouth, and realized not only had he covered the whole room in white, he’d bitten clean through his tongue as he came. By the time he had changed and cleaned his room—he was getting really fucking efficient—it had almost entirely healed, and Ben decided to just fucking hope She wouldn’t notice any lisp or slur in his words.

He should’ve fucking know a lot damn better by now. 

When Ben entered the dining room, She was sitting cross-legged on one of the long abandoned chairs, holding a completely destroyed apple in one hand and her phone in the other. Her gaze was sharp as her eyes moved across the screen, a small frown on Her face. It took Ben clearing his throat loudly for Her to look up at him, and the Thing tensed at the drawn caution still lingering on her face.

“Took you long enough.” She paused, and her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t shower.”

“You don’t fucking know that-“

“Your hair is dry.” She said flatly.

“Maybe I just don’t want to shower two goddamn times in one morning?” Ben snapped. “You think of that, smartass?”

He’d expected Her to glare at him, or bite back with her usual snark, but her head only tilted at him, brow furrowing. “What happened to your voice?”

“What are you talking about,” Ben snapped, cursing himself for not just waiting the one extra fucking minute for his tongue to heal.

“Your words sound weird. Open your mouth.” She took a step closer, eyeing his mouth as if she expected a fucking snake to jump out of it and turning the apple core over in her hands.

“I’m not going to fucking ‘open my mouth’, Sunshine.” Ben angled his chin higher, trying to hide his tongue as he spoke. 

“Why?” She glared at him. “Got something to hide?”

Just a few more damn seconds. “I don’t have to do everything you fucking tell me to, brat.”

Heart-flutter. Scowl. Her arms crossing in front of her. “Are you pleading the fucking fifth, Ben?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, because I’m not damn guilty of any fucking shit.”

“That’s not how the fifth works.”

“Yes, it fucking is.” Ben turned his face down fully, feeling his tongue healed completely. “And I’m not hiding anything. My voice is fucking normal.”

She blinked, a surprised frown flashing across Her features. “You’re fucking impossible,” she mumbled, and Ben winked at Her.

“Can I hear an apology-“ Ben was cut off by the apple core hitting him square in the fucking face.

“No.” She looked him up and down. “It’s not my fault you were being weird.” She met his eyes again, a smirk playing on her lips. “And you were wrong about the fifth. Which is shocking given you were alive when it was written.”

He glared at her. “You know goddamn well I wasn’t.”

“Do I?” She said, fake innocence coating her voice as she gave him a wide-eyed stare. “You’d bet money on that Pretty Boy?”

“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” 

“I’m a goddamn riot.” She moved to her defensive stance. “And I’m going to fucking kick your ass for whatever it is you’re hiding.”

Ben scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything, Sunshine.” He reached his arm out. “You can always just fucking check for yourself.”

“I can’t read minds, Ben. Unless you’re feeling guilty, doing that won’t help me at fucking all.”

“I’ve never felt guilty in my goddamn life.” The Thing started spinning around in Ben’s chest, tight against him. Suddenly Her touching him felt like a bad fucking idea.

“Yeah,” She rolled her eyes. “I fucking know. It’s an issue.”

He frowned. “I get shit done, Sunshine. I said I won’t fucking apologize for doing my goddamn job-“

“Not asking you to. That’s a battle I know I won’t win.” She said, flexing her fists. “Now let me beat you to a pulp, Ben.”

“You’re real mouthy this morning, brat.” He sneered, and She glared up at him. “You really think you’re laying one fucking hand on me?”

“Oh,” she gave a dry laugh. “This is going be so goddamn cathartic, cunt, you have no fucking idea.”

Ben decided he had at least some fucking idea, because the first punch She threw landed square across the jaw, and the second slammed right into his gut. It didn’t hurt, he barely even felt it, but the crazed focus in Her eyes, the fact that he could hear the grinding of her teeth, and the way Her heart had taken on a heavy and uncontrolled rhythm was telling him at least a little about what She was feeling.

“Christ on a fucking cross,” Ben grunted as her fifth punch connected with his nose. “I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”

“We’re not,” she grunted, kicking his chest.

“Sure feels like we goddamn are.” He managed to block her fist from his neck, and She stumbled slightly. “If you’re still mad at me, just fucking tell me.”

“I’m not,” She snapped, and Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m fucking not!”

“Don’t lie to me, Sunshine, you’re better than that.”

“Oh piss off,” She scowled, and Ben didn’t like the shadow that flitted across her face. “I’m not fucking mad at you, I’m just stressed, ok?”

“About what?” Ben frowned, dodging another punch. The Thing started to scrape at him again, desperate to reach out and smooth the crease in Her brow. “Nothing’s fucking happening.”

She just grunted, not meeting his eyes. This time, when her fist flew to his face, Ben grabbed it, holding it firmly as he glared down at Her.

“What’s wrong with you.” He demanded, and She just blinked, looking between his glower and his hold on her hand.

“Nothing,” She said, though her voice wavered, and the Thing started rising to Ben’s throat. 

“Liar.” He lowered his hand, pulling Her arm with him. “What’s wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s fucking wrong, Benjamin. I don’t need a single reason to be stressed, everything about our lives is fucking nightmare.”

“You’re being sloppy.” He watched Her carefully, listening for any change in her heart. “Our lives are nightmares every goddamn day. You’re never fucking sloppy.”

“I’m not sloppy, Pretty Boy.” She sneered. “I’ve landed almost every fucking punch.”

“In poor form.” Ben countered, not wavering. Something was fucking wrong with Her. The Thing was so damn loud in him, it needed to know, it need to make it better, make Her smile or laugh and just look less fucking tense. “If you’re still pissed at me, fucking spit it out.”

“Not everything is fucking about you, Ben!” She spat, trying to pry Her fist from his. “I’m just fucking stressed!”

“There’s nothing-“

“Are you stupid, or insane? Of course there’s shit to be stressed about! You met with Homelander and you didn’t even tell me what happened! We keep fucking fighting about stupid shit and I’m tired! We keep saying we won’t keep secrets but we both know we’re lying! Butcher is apparently watching us on cameras, and being just a fucking dick about-“ She took a deep, strained breath. “I just want to fucking have some sort of goddamn control over my fucking life, and sometimes that means punching someone I-“ She took a ragged breath. “I know can take it. Is that too much to fucking ask?”

He felt Her hand grow slack in his, her eyes growing cloudy. The Thing was pushing into him, and Ben wasn’t fucking strong enough to fight it. Not when She looked so goddamn exhausted, still somehow fucking perfect, and hollow in a way that made the Thing bloodthirsty.

He pulled Her hand forward, and as she stumbled into his chest, a small gasp escaping her, Ben wrapped his arms around her back and shoulders. He held Her tight against him, stroking her hair until her breathing steadied, and her body relaxed against his. Once it had, Her head resting against his chest and her heartbeat moving in time with his own, Ben pulled back slightly to look down at Her.

Fucking perfect.

“Go shower,” he said Her name firmly, and she blinked at him in surprise.

“But-“

“We don’t have to go for two hours every damn day, Sunshine. You’re going to go shower, we’re going to sit on the couch, and you’re going to get your fucking show on the road.”

“My show?” She frowned. “Do you mean-“

“The shell shock.” Ben grunted. “You’re going to try your little magic trick, I’ll tell you about the meeting, and we won’t fight.”

She sighed, watching him sadly. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Ben tightened his grip on her body. “I fucking swear on it.”

For a long second, it looks like She might push him on it. Ben fucking meant it, they weren’t going to fight, even if it meant talking about stupid, vapid shit for the entire afternoon. She looked too goddamn exhausted, it would be like kicking a puppy. A perfect, sad, exhausted puppy that got on his every fucking nerve, but he would bite his tongue for. Part of Ben just wanted to pick Her up, carry her to bed, and hold her until she slept off the strain and anguish on Her face.

“Promise?” She breathed, and Ben didn’t feel any hesitation as he responded.

“Promise.”

She nodded slowly, and pried herself from his grip. “You better shower as well. I meant it when I said you smelled like shit.”

Ben snorted. “You’re not much better, Sunshine.” It was a fucking lie, she smelled like flower shampoo and salt and smoke, but the small smile on Her lips was more than worth the taunt. 

“Don’t make me force you to bathe, because I’ll fucking do it. Don’t test me.”

“I’m sure you will,” he muttered under his breath, trailing after Her as they moved up the stairs. She laughed, looking over Her shoulder at him with a wide, perfect smile covering Her face, and the Thing ached.

“See you in thirty, Ben.” She closed the door behind Her, and he was left in the hallway alone.

Ben did shower. Not because She fucking told him to, or because he realized she was right—he smelled like sweat and charcoal and grime—but because he had thirty minutes to kill and nothing to do except shower.

It didn’t fucking hurt that he got to imagine Her in the shower with him, that same perfect smile on Her face as the Thing created an image of her kneeling before him. Of Her mouth around him, of Ben’s hand in her hair as it had been only minutes ago, of Her moans running through his body as he thrusted his cock between her lips.

This time, it was a lot easier to clean up after himself.

She was already on the couch when he got back downstairs, hair damp and knees folded into Her chest as she tapped on her phone. Ben dropped down at Her side, and nudged her shoulder.

“Feeling better, brat?”

She stuck her tongue out as she dropped Her phone into her lap, and the Thing rumbled. “I’m gonna heal your brain so fucking hard, cunt, you won’t know what hit you.”

“Or nothing will happen, because I’m not a fucking shell shocked pussy, and the world’s going to owe me a big fucking apology.”

“You still don’t think you have PTSD?” She frowned. 

“No, because I fucking don’t.”

“Why are you letting me do this, then?” 

Ben shrugged. “Who am I to deprive you of a chance to touch me?”

She scoffed, face flushing slightly. “We touch all the time, Ben. Try again.”

The Thing was loud in his ears, both grumbling about how She was right—they did touch all the time—but it still wasn’t fucking enough, and trying to grab his tongue and force the words because you said I couldn’t fix you if you couldn’t fix me, and if you had kept fucking screaming and crying and breaking right in front of me it might have fucking killed me.

The Thing needed to shut the hell up.

“You wanted some control, Sunshine. Here it is.” When She didn’t look entirely convinced at his words, Ben leaned down to hold Her gaze at eye level and said Her name firmly. “No fighting, remember?”

She narrowed her eyes, and nodded. “Fine. You’re telling me about the meeting, though. No fucking take backs.”

“Deal.” He said, a smile pulling at his mouth. “What do you-“

He cut himself off as She reached up, dropping one leg down to carpet as she folded the other beneath her, and placed her hands against his head. The Thing made a lot of satisfied sounds, and Ben had to bite down a groan and Her fingers tangled slightly in his hair. 

“What the hell are you doing.” His voice was strained, a lot of fucking effort going into ignoring how She’d pulled him down further, so that her face was practically inches from his.

She wasn’t even fucking looking a him as she answered, attention trained on where she held him. “Can’t touch your brain. This is the closest I can get.”

“Should I be fucking feeling something?”

“Dunno,” She shrugged. “Never done this to myself, dummy.”

Ben grunted, and watched Her nose start to wrinkle, brows drawing into concentration. She somehow looked more perfect than before, when he could see glimpses of Her teeth as she chewed her lower lip, could look at every small movement of her eyes, could feel Her hot breath fan across his face. “Have you started-“

“Yeah.” She glanced down to meet his gaze, and something hot flashed across her face. “You can talk whenever.”

“Does it feel like anything?”

She shook her head, but Ben heard her foot start to tap on the carpet. “Do you feel anything?”

“No.”

Her eyes ran across his face, searching for something Ben didn’t have a clue about. She seemed to find Her answer though, and her focus returned to his forehead. “The meeting?” She prompted, and Ben sighed.

“What do you want to know?”

“All of it.” Her voice was firm. “Start from when you left, end when you got back.”

Ben frowned. “We took the van.”

“I figured.” She snarked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to hear about it or not?” She shot him a quick glare, and he continued. “The French Prick had gas. Fucking mustard and sleeping gas with agent orange.”

“Agent orange is illegal, it hasn’t been in production since, like, the 70s.” She said, and Ben scoffed.

“Asshole made his own. Carried it fucking everywhere like a pussy.”

She let out a huff of amusement. “Of course he did. You’re a scary guy.”

��I know.” He muttered, and something pulled at his lungs. Before he could think better of it, he was asking, “You scared of me, Sunshine?”

“Me?” She still didn’t look back at him, and Ben couldn’t fucking stand the seconds before she answered. “No.” She said it as if it was fucking obvious, and Ben wanted to know more, the Thing needed to know more, but before he could demand it She was looking into his eyes. “What else?”

“We went to the FSIB.” She frowned, and Ben knew his guess had been wrong. “Supe Bureau.” He said, before she could ask.

“Ah,” a small smile crossed her lips, gaze leaving his once more. “FBSA.”

“Sure, that.” He muttered, raising his voice after to continue. “Sage and Homelander were there,” Her grip on his head tightened slightly, and he had to fight the Thing trying to reach for Her. “Neuman too.” She opened her mouth, and Ben rolled his eyes. “Neuman as well. Butcher was pissed about it.”

She snorted. “Butcher’s always pissed about something. What did they want?”

“To know our plans. Sage fucking asked outright what they were.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. Goddamn waste of time.”

“Hm.” She shook her head slightly, lips drawing in as she chewed at them. “You said Sage asked?”

Ben nodded. “Specifically about us. What Butcher was intending to use us for.”

“Sage asked that?” She glanced down at him again, frowning. “That sounds like something Homelander would ask, not Sage.”

“Maybe that pussy made her ask for him.”

She shook her head, voice slightly quieter. “Even if that’s true, Sage would have to see benefit in it. I don’t trust her to just give in to Homelander over something so plainly stupid. There’s something else. What-” She swallowed slightly, and Ben’s attention caught on the bob of Her throat. “What else was discussed?”

Feeling that She already knew the answer, Ben watched her carefully as he spoke. “You. A lot about you. Sage said you were a liability, which is fucking bullshit, and Homelander whined like a fucking pussy about you leaving him, about the food, about the V shot that didn’t take and how you wasted it, offered to trade you for Ryan-“

“He what?” Her eyes darted down, voice high.

“Asshole said he’d be willing to give Butcher his wife’s brat if Butcher gave you over.” Ben heard Her heart stumble. “We didn’t damn agree to it, Sunshine. If Butcher had even fucking considered it I’d have thrown him out the window.”

“But he offered it? To Butcher?”

Ben said Her name slowly. “I don’t think Butcher took it fucking seriously. Even that pussy knows Homelander would’ve just fucking taken you and kept Ryan.” He frowned as She nodded, blinking nervously before looking back up. “Sunshine.”

“Hm?” Her grip tightened again. 

“You’re hiding something.” 

“No, I’m not.” Her words were clipped, and Ben scoffed. 

“Yes, you fucking are. Are you really fucking worried that Butcher will take his offer? Because I was being fucking serious-”

“I’m not worried about the offer, Ben. I promise.”

Ben examined Her face. She was still looking intently at his forehead, but Her heart was controlled with her breathing again, and the tapping was gone. “Are you upset about the kid? Brian?”

“Ryan,” she corrected. “And no. He’s going to be fine.”

“Because of your plan.”

“Because of my plan.”

Ben said her name slowly. “What is your fucking plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s something fucking stupid, isn’t it.”

She frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.” He glared at Her perfect face, trying to find any sort of tell for whatever insane thing was running through Her goddamn head.

“Fuck off, Benjamin. How the hell would you know if it’s stupid.”

He glared at Her. “Because all your plans are fucking stupid and insane.”

“And they all fucking work, Pretty Boy.” Her voice was smug. “You’ve said so yourself.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not goddamn terrible. All of them involve you throwing yourself in front of a train and just fucking hoping you survive.”

“Only one of us has thrown themselves in front of a train, cunt, and it’s not me.”

“A fucking metaphorical train, brat. And I know your plan is fucking stupid because you and Butcher don’t seem too concerned about how it might not work.”

She rolled her eyes. “If anything that’s a sign that it’s an amazing plan.”

“No, it means it’s fucking insane and probably going to blow up in your fucking face.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m being fucking serious, Sunshine.” Ben reached, grabbing one of Her wrists. “If you’re planning something insane, you need to fucking tell me.”

She glowered at him, her words firm. “Good thing it’s not insane.”

“Then just tell me the damn plan.”

“No.”

“I’m trying to help you, brat.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fucking hell,” Ben snapped Her name. “Can you just trust me about one goddamn thing-“

“No fighting, Ben.” She cut him off, voice rising. “And I’m not telling you, not because I don’t trust you, or because it’s stupid and insane.” She was talking faster and faster, with less breaths between words. “I’m not telling you because nobody knows but Butcher and I, and it needs to stay that way because it’s really fucking precarious, and it needs to go perfectly because if it doesn’t you won’t get the fucking shot at Homelander and this will have been for fucking nothing because you’ll go back under-“ Her grip was like iron around his head. “And we fucking promised we wouldn’t let each other go back so I can’t-“ 

Ben yanked Her hands from his head just before they began to smoke. “Sunshine-“

“I can’t, I can’t tell you, I fucking can’t-“

He raised his voice using Her name as he grabbed her face in his hands. “Fucking breathe.”

She stared at him, her own hands flying up to his arms. 

He repeated himself, lowering his volume, but keeping his words forceful. “Breathe.”

She nodded slowly, and Ben watched Her chest rise and fall, slowing in speed as her heart steadied. She was still watching him, eyes wide and lips parted, and Ben was suddenly incredibly fucking aware of how close they were. Closer than before. Her hands were still warm around him, keeping his hold on her face firm, a hold that had his fingers tangled in her hair and his thumbs so fucking close to her mouth. Her knee was pushed against his hips, dangerously close to the tightness in his pants, and he could fucking swear Her eyes had just fallen to his lips, her tongue running over her own-

Something buzzed, and Her head dropped down as she moved one hand to grab Her phone. 

“It’s Hughie.” Her brow wrinkled as she read the screen.

“Cocksucker?” 

“Hughie.” She corrected without missing a beat. “He says Annie is about to call, and not to say no to her, because it’ll be his ass if I do and she’s been trying to do this for a month.”

On perfect fucking cue, the phone started buzzing again, displaying a grainy photo what looked to be Starlight gloating over the French Prick’s body. Ben tried to read the words, which was harder than usual given that they were upside down, but his attention was pulled back to Her as she poked his leg with Her foot.

“Ben, I need to answer.” When he just raised his brows at Her—about to ask why the hell she was telling him instead of just fucking doing it—she looked pointedly at his hands, which were still gripping Her face. 

He rolled his eyes, but released her.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, raising the phone to her ear. “What’s wrong, Annie?”

Ben kept his face passive as he listened to Starlight’s voice, muffled through the static of the phone. “We’re going out.”

She raised Her brows, frowning at Ben as she spoke. “What?”

“We need a break,” Starlight’s voice was firm. “So we’re going out.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Everyone. You, me, Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, MM, Butcher even if I have to physically drag him, and Soldier Boy because we can’t leave him alone.”

Ben scowled, and She rolled her eyes at him, giving him a glare of I know you’re listening Ben, but she doesn’t, so keep fucking quiet.

“Is this part of a plan?” She asked carefully. “Like a club full of supes that might have information-“

“No,” Starlight said Her name with a sigh. “We’re just going out, because if we don’t let off some steam we might explode.”

“Why do Ben and I have to come?” She said, and Ben could hear the gnawing of Her lip. “I mean, he’s still a fugitive, and everyone is going to think he’s kidnapped me-“

“Frenchie’s taking care of it.”

“Annie,” Her voice was flat. “I have no interest in going anywhere sponsored or endorsed by Frenchie.”

“Please,” Starlight said Her name in a desperate tone. “It’ll be safe, I promise. We all need this, and that includes you.”

“You don’t want me there, Annie.” The plain, factual way She says the words makes the Thing want to snap every member of Her team in half. “I might blow, it’s really not safe-“

“It’ll be fine, I promise.”

She sighed, and Ben could fucking visably see will begin to crumble “Annie, I don’t even have anything to wear-“

“Are your measurements the same from when we found you?”

“I mean, yeah, but-“

“I’ll buy you something this afternoon.”

“This after- Annie are we going today?”

“Yep. We’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

“Hours?” Her eyes were wide. “A few fucking hours?”

“Like three or four.”

“Annie-“

“See you then!” The hum of the line went dead, and She looked up at Ben with wide eyes. 

“You heard her, right?”

Ben frowned. “You didn’t tell her to get me clothes.”

She blinked at him. “That’s what you’re worried about? What are you going to wear?”

He shrugged. “I mean, there’s not fucking much else to worry about-“

“What about the fact that you are a wanted criminal? Or that I am technically your hostage?”

“Starlight said the French Prick would take care of it.”

“Ben-“

“The lady is right, Sunshine.” He said firmly. “You need a break. I need a break. She sounded like she needed a break.”

“But-“

Ben said Her name, nudging her leg with his own. “Even Butcher is going,” his tone was teasing, trying to pull the goddamn worry from Her face. “Are going to be more of a stick in the mud than fucking Butcher?”

She scowled. “I’m not a stick in the mud.”

He gave her a cocky grin. “Prove it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. No anger, no stress, just pure focus on his challenge. “Prove it?”

“Fucking prove it. Let go. Have some fun for once in your damn life.”

“I’ve had fun. I’ve had a shit ton of fun.” Her lips were slightly pouted. And so fucking close.

“Like I said, brat. Prove it.”

She stood abruptly, and the Thing start fucking pussying about inside Ben that Her body was gone. She moved around the couch, marching to the stairs, before pausing to look back at Ben once. 

“I’m going have so much fucking fun, Pretty Boy. It’s going to blow your fucking mind.”

————

The thing about living in a CIA safe-house to babysit an allegedly dead hundred-year-old man—who you entirely and incorrectly anticipated hating with every fiber of your being for the duration of your time together—was that you didn’t spend a lot of time trying to look nice. Not for yourself, and certainly not for anyone else. 

Every member of your team had fully supported this blatant lack of effort. You brushed your teeth, showered, and combed out your hair enough that MM wouldn’t start yelling at you about basic hygiene, but nobody was about to start telling you that self-presentation was important to self-respect. You, like all of them, didn’t have the luxury of self-respect. You hardly had the luxury of respect. 

It was because of this that—looking back on it—hindsight was indeed a powerful thing. Hindsight would’ve been unbelievably helpful when Mallory’s bi-weekly grocery delivery had come a few nights ago, delivered with a grotesquely large box of makeup and hair products from Annie. You’d moved them into your bathroom—thankful that Ben was taking one of his long showers after training and wasn’t going to barge in asking questions—and read the note buried between hairspray and color corrector.

For later! I wasn’t sure what colors you liked, so I got all of them. - Annie.

A little heart had been drawn next to her name, and looking back at the box you realized she had, as promised, gotten all of them. The box was filled with a rainbow fortune of lipsticks, glosses, eyeshadow palettes, mascaras, liners—liquid, pencil and gel—highlighters, blushes, bronzers, contours, and at least at least twenty foundations and concealer in what you imagined was Annie’s best guess of your shade. That wasn’t even touching the sprays and gels and body glitter. 

You’d thought she’d lost it. Or gotten sick of her blood money from Vought and decided to buy you an entire makeup store. You’d pulled out your phone, found Annie January: Arm Wrestling Champion, and been about to call her and ask if she was ok and what “for later” could have possibly meant when Ben had started banging on your door. You’d left your phone in the bathroom, shoving the box under the sink, and ran to answer him. You don’t really remember most of the conversation, because Ben’s hair had been damp and looked soft and you’d wanted to touch it, there had been ice cream stuck to his lower lip and you’d wanted to lick it, and the Feeling had been incredibly focus on the slight rasp in his voice but apparently not enough to really hear him. You remember how it had ended though. You putting away the groceries as Ben watched unhelpfully at the doorway, save for a whole tub of malt vanilla ice cream that Ben had decided was too close to melting and felt personally responsible to take matters into his own hands. You’d told him it had been out for less than an hour, and if it was really about his commitment to lowering food waste he wouldn’t have let the caramel ice cream just die like he had. He’d said caramel was a shitty flavor for pussies and the senile, you’d told him that malt vanilla wasn’t really the ice cream of the youth either, he’d called you “brat” again, and Annie’s box of insanity had been completely forgotten.

Hughie’s text had said that Annie had been planning this for a month. If it wasn’t for the box, you’d have thought she was being blackmailed, tricked, or at the very least mind-controlled. Annie wasn’t someone who “went out”, let alone enlisted Frenchie for aid in finding terrorist-appropriate nightlife. You stared at the box as you pulled it out from under the sink—it was more daunting than you remembered—unsure if you should just fully lean into Ben’s prove you’re not a stick in the mud challenge, or be genuinely concerned for Annie and her sudden personality switch. The Feeling was in strong favor of the first option, replaying every single second on the couch over and over, reminding you that Ben had never seen you actually try to have fun—or at least what he considered fun—and maybe if you proved you could he’d touch your face again. Maybe he’d look at you with that hungry glint in his eyes and actually mean it the way the Feeling wanted him to. 

He’d lose his mind. The Feeling protested. You’d prove you’re not a stick in the mud, and as a fun reward you’d get to see him lose his mind.

It was that exact train of thought that made you choose the second option, even as the Feeling whined about it. 

You pulled out your phone—pushing the Feeling deep into the back of your head where it couldn’t influence your decisions—and forced yourself to call Hughie.

“What’s up?” Hughie sounded tired, more tired than normal. 

“Is Annie okay?” You dove into the question headfirst, the words pushing the Feeling back further. This wasn’t about Ben, and how the Feeling hated the idea that he saw you as boring. This was about Annie, and if you needed to be worried about her.

“Yeah, um, I mean-“ Hughie stumbled over his words, and you could practically see the anxiety on his face. “She’s fine. Good. She’s good. Everything is fine and she’s good-“

“Hughie.” You said firmly. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I, uh, I didn’t say you were-“

“Do I need to be worried? Because you know just well, scratch that, you know better than I do that ‘going out’ is not regular Annie behavior.”

“I mean, it could be. Maybe it wasn’t regular Starlight behavior but it is regular Annie behavior. We don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re not good at it.”

Hughie mumbled your name. “It’s really not that much to be worried about.”

“Okay.” You sigh, glancing involuntarily towards the door to make sure Ben hasn’t suddenly appeared to ruin your bluff. “Then I guess it’s ok if Ben and I don’t go.”

“No!” You move the phone from your ear with a wince as Hughie yells the words. “You need to come, please, Annie will kill me-“

“Why, Hughie. Why will she kill you if it’s not something to be worried about?” Hughie was silent for a second, so you continued. “This is risky, you know this is risky. If you say it’s important to Annie I’ll do it, but I need to know that it’s actually important to her, and not something to be concerned about.”

“It is important to Annie,” Hughie’s voice was hushed. “You’re right, it’s not like her, but she’s still fighting with her mom, and Firecracker did a lot of damage-“ you wince at the mention of Firecracker, but remain silent. “And she just wants to do something kind of normal with the team. Something stupid that isn’t fucking life or death.”

“Okay.” You say, and you mean it. “Three hours?”

“Uh, yeah. Three hours.”

“See you then.” You hang up, and sigh at nothing.

Three hours. Three hours to remember how to look and act like the carefree, normal person you’d been three years ago. The person who had friends, and went out with those friends, and had simple, wild fun with those friends. You could do it again, even if those friends were now revenge fueled mercenaries. But you could have fun. You would have fun. For yourself. Not because the Feeling was starting to come up with all the ways in which you could prove that you weren’t a stick in the mud, and all the ways Ben’s jaw would drop when he was forced to eat his words.

You dump out the contents of Annie’s box—an immediate mistake, there was somehow more than there looked to be—and set to work. You tried all ten of the different perfumes, settled on a flowery one with an Italian label that you certainly butcher the pronunciation of, and took a shower. A long shower, that drowned out the Feeling reminding you of your last shower, where Ben’s sweat from training had been stuck to your body, and his touch had still been lingering on your skin, and his face was imprinted onto your eyes, and the sound of his voice was ringing in your ears-

You turned the shower knob until the water was freezing, and cursed slightly as the chill hit your body. 

After you’d dried yourself off—two hours left—you set to work. Makeup first, a full face of powders and shadows and colors. You started over three times—muscle memory was not your friend and the more you sorted through the pile of products the less satisfied you were with your previous choices—and by the time you were done and semi-pleased with your handiwork, you were down to an hour. Hair was faster—there were less choices to be made—and by the time you looked in the mirror ten minutes remained. Ten minutes to not dwell on Ben. Ten minutes to remind yourself that this wasn’t about him, because this was about Annie. Ten minutes for the Feeling to work up from where you’d buried it, and provide unhelpful fantasies of Ben smudging your lipstick and messing up your hair and looking at you with the same hooded gaze from earlier-

Your phone buzzed, a text from Butcher flashing across the screen. 

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

We’ll talk tonight. 

Cold ran through your body, steeling you as your breathing became controlled. Tonight. Butcher was ready, he’d texted you this morning about “all the bloody pieces in place”, and you were going to talk tonight. This wasn’t about the Feeling, because the Feeling didn’t matter. It was gripping onto Ben for safety, a luxury it would soon no longer have. This was about having fun, before everything went to hell. This was about the fact that all of this was so close to over, you might as well enjoy doing something stupid for your friend. You gave the mirror a glare, the foreign woman in it glaring right back. This was the last time she’d make an appearance, because Butcher was ready tonight.

You heard a light knock on your door, took a deep breath, and went to answer it. Annie stood on the other side, holding a plastic bag with a white-knuckled grip.

“Oh good, you’re ready.” She held out the bag, and you took it tentatively as she continued. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a few different styles. Once you get changed, we’ll get going.”

You glance down, scanning Annie’s options. “Uh, where exactly are we going?” 

“Some sort of underground speak-easy type club.” Annie frowned slightly. “I don’t remember the name, Frenchie was talking really fast when he said it.”

You nod nervously, fighting the lump in your throat. “Okay, give me, like, five and I’ll be ready.” 

You were about to retreat into your room, starting to close the door, when Annie stopped you with a quick, nervous touch. You blink at her, trying to ignore the rush of anxiety and stress that buzzed through your body.

Annie said your name softly. “Thank you for doing this.”

You shrug. “Don’t.”

“I know you’d rather not leave-“

“Annie, seriously. It’s fine. You’re right, we all need a break.” You clear your throat, chasing off the grip that Butcher’s text had left on your lungs. “This will be fun.”

“You look nice,” Annie offers a smile. “Hot.”

You give her a half-forced, toothy grin. “You look hot as well. Hughie’s gonna lose his mind.” Maybe Ben will lose his for you, the Feeling said dreamily in your ear. You pushed it back into the corners of your brain, forcing yourself to focus on Annie.

“This will be fun.” Annie echo’s your sentiment, her voice firm. “I’ll see you when you’re ready?”

“In five.” You restate, nodding. This time, when you go to close the door, Annie doesn’t stop you.

Changing takes a little over five minutes, because even though you try to pick something fast, it’s impossible to ignore the Feeling as it tries to invent different scenarios about how that option will highlight one feature, but that option will highlight another, and Ben would probably like the third option because it’s green-

You pick the green option, because it shuts the Feeling up the easiest. 

When you get to the living room, MM and Butcher are standing stiffly at the door, Kimiko is rummaging through the bookshelf as Frenchie watches with an adorably affectionate expression, and Hughie and Annie are huddled on the couch, exchanging low words. You clear your throat, and hold yourself steady as attentions turn to where you stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m ready.” You mumble, giving the room another quick sweep. “Where’s Ben?”

“Asshole was in the shower when we got here.” MM grumbled. “Still hasn’t come down.”

You snort. “In that case we might be here all night. That man takes long showers, he might not be half-way done.”

“Fucking rude, Sunshine.” You jump, spinning on your heels to see Ben coming down the stairs, a crooked grin on his face. “I care about my hygiene, is that a goddamn crime?” “When it takes up all the hot water? Yeah, it is.” You avert your gaze as you snap at him, because the Feeling is starting to push up and up in your brain, almost consumes your thoughts about the fact that Ben looks good, really good, and he’s stopped right next to you, and you can feel the heat from his body-

Butcher’s voice snaps you away from the Feeling’s grip. “Well, don’t you two clean up well?” His tone is mocking, and when you look at his twisted smile and cold eyes, your whole body tenses.

“Wish I could say the same for you, you fucking pussy.” Ben drawls, seemingly unbothered. “You own any clothes that aren’t those ugly fucking Hawaiian shirts?”

“Nah,” Butcher winks. “Nothing else matches my thongs, Gov.”

Ben’s fists curl in your periphery, and you take a step forward. “Frenchie,” your voice is a little louder than probably needed, but it gets the job done. “How far is the club?”

Frenchie doesn’t look up from watching Kimiko as he responds. “An hour, Madame Anom-“ He cuts himself off, head shooting up to look nervously at Ben, and says your name instead. 

“Then let’s get a move on,” MM grunts from the door, and you barely here his mutter of, “Fucking hell, Frenchie, couldn’t chose a place in a reasonable distance, could you?” because you’re blinking at Frenchie, trying to figure out why he’s still looking at Ben in not quite fear, but certainly not comfort. 

Everyone filters out of the room—the air a little more tense than it probably should be for a group of people going clubbing—and you grab Ben’s arm before he can follow.

Mistake. Big mistake. The Feeling claws its way to the surface, because you’re fully looking at him and he’s fully looking at you, and everything is suddenly very sharp and very warm. Because, even if he was being a sardonic ass, Butcher was right. Ben cleaned up well. Really well. Unfairly well. The Feeling couldn’t pick a place to settle, because his hair was slightly mussed, and he’d shaved just enough for you to really see his lips, and his shirt was clinging to his chest in a way that you could see his muscles ripple as he breathed, and you were thirsty again, because your heart was rolling around inside your chest. Because he was looking you up and down, and the Feeling was so focused on trying to see if there was anything in the way he looked at you that you didn’t think you remembered how to breathe.

“You look good,” Ben’s voice is low and gruff, and does not help silence the Feeling at all. 

“Thanks.” You mumble, and hope you sound a little less pathetic and breathless than you feel. You manage to blink a few times, pulling your head into the game and ignoring the pounding in your chest and head. “Uh, what was that about?”

He frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Frenchie looked at you like you were going to rip his head off.”

“They always look at me like that,” Ben shrugs. “So?”

“He didn’t call me ‘Madame Anomaly’, he used my name.”

“Yeah, maybe the prick finally realized that you’re no Madame,” his tone is mocking, but you can’t feel any malice or cruelty. Only the resolved protection wrapping around you. 

It made the Feeling feral. It made you struggle to focus. 

You must be looking as lost as you feel, because Ben’s eyes narrow, and he looks you up and down again. “Are you sure you want to do this, Sunshine?”

The Feeling wants to touch the lines of tension on his brow, run your fingers over them until they vanish, and you overpower it just enough to say, “What?” 

“If you really don’t, I can tell them you’re sick and to go without us.”

“I can’t get sick, Ben.” You say flatly, pulling yourself forcefully from the Feeling’s grasp.

“Then come up with a better lie. And we’ll stay here.”

You glare at him. “I said I was going to have fun, Benjamin, and I fucking meant it. We’re going, I’m going to blow your fucking brains out with how fun I am, and you’re going to admit that I’m no a stick in the mud.”

He coughs something that’s either a laugh or a choke, and your heart squeezes. “Fuck me for trying to be helpful, brat.”

“After you, cunt.” You make a sweeping gesture forward, releasing his arm. 

Ben rolls his eyes at you, grinning widely. “Ladies first, Sunshine.”

“I thought I was ‘no Madame’- hey!”

Ben loops his arm through yours, and before you know what’s happening he’s pulling you through the door and towards the van. The Feeling is dazed, crawling through you as everything becomes a very hazy cloud of warm and safe and Ben. He grumbles “don’t these pussies own any other goddamn cars,” and you can feel it hum through you.

You managed to detangle yourself from Ben long enough to haul yourself through the back doors alone, stumbling to sit down at Kimiko’s side as Ben follows you.

“Where’s Frenchie?” You ask her, signing as you nod at the empty spot where he’s usually found.

Butcher hates MapQuest Kimiko signs back with an eye roll. Frenchie has to give him manual directions.

You laugh, and feel the Feeling keen inside you as Ben drops next to you, his knee pushed into yours. 

“What’s funny?” He grunts, and when you turn to look at him, you feel your heart buck in your chest. His face is a lot closer than you expected, and his lips are very pink.

“Butcher’s being an ass,” you manage to say plainly, and Ben snorts. 

“I can fucking hear you, Love,” Butcher calls from the front, and you scoff. “We work for the bloody CIA, you should know better than to trust something with a GPS.”

“The phone has a GPS anyway, dumbass, you’re not combating a surveillance state by getting us lost.” 

Butcher is silent for a second after you respond, and you can see his scowl in the rearview mirror. “That true Hughie?” 

“Uh,” Hughie looks up, startled, from his place at Annie’s side. “Yeah? Most modern tech has some sort of GPS.”

“Huh.” Butcher grunts. “When we get back from this shit, you’re removing mine from my phone, got it?”

Hughie pales. “What?”

Before you can marvel at Butcher’s shockingly inept knowledge of how phones worked, the Feeling returns in a full, electric force, and you realize Ben is leaning into you. 

His voice is a grumble near your ear, and it makes the Feeling burn. “What the fuck is a GPS.”

“Wha-“ you turn to face him, and cut yourself off when you find his face only inches from yours, his eyes watching you with a intensity that makes the Feeling painful.

“GPS,” he grunts, his breath fanning your face. “Cocksucker mention it last time, but nobody will actually fucking explain it.”

You blink. “It’s like a compass? Or a tracker? It tells you where you are on a map with satellites or something.”

Ben smirks. “Did I finally find something you don’t have the answer to, Sunshine?”

“No,” you scowl. “It’s just hard to explain.”

“Sure,” his smile is so wide, so teasing and light, the Feeling wants to make him do that again, just for you, and it takes strained effort to really listen to him. “You’re not scared to admit you’re wrong, are you, brat?”

“I’m never fucking wrong, cunt.” You scowl. “You should know that by now.”

An almost painful craving feeling runs through your heart, and Ben winks. “Of course, Sunshine. I’m not in the business of disagreeing with terrifyingly beautiful women.”

This time, you’re certain you’ve forgotten how to breathe. It really doesn’t feel that vital right now, not when the Feeling is everything and everywhere and writhing around and consuming you, because what does that mean and why did he say it like that and why is he looking at you like that and would he please stop looking at you because it’s very distracting and actually, if he looks away from you your heart might stop working so he needs to stay right there-

Someone says your name, a few times, and you’re forced to find a way to look away from Ben and live with it.

Annie is watching you with a strange look as Hughie stands to talk to Butcher in the front—the GPS argument apparently nowhere close to settled—but she clears her throat and says your name one more time, likely trying to verify your attention.

“What’s up?” Your voice is a lot more hoarse than you’d like, and you chalk it up to not drinking enough water. 

“Butcher told us you could sing?” Annie’s voice is curious, and she doesn’t seem to notice how you tense at her words. “I mean, he seemed really mad about it for some reason, but he said you had a nice voice.”

You cough—feeling Ben’s protective, stone-like resolve run through you—and manage to answer in a steady voice. “I- I can. Kind of. It’s not a big deal-“

“She has the voice of the angels,” Frenchie calls from the front, and the fire starts to itch. “Like a bird song.”

“It’s really not-“

“Do not feel modesty,” oblivious to the edge of anxiety in your voice, Frenchie continues. “It is a rare gift, when we heard it-“

“We?” You cut him off, the itch running into your blood. “How many of you heard it, exactly?”

“Myself, Kimiko, Monsieur Butcher, and Soldier Boy.”

“You weren’t being quiet, Love.” Butcher says over Hughie’s low, exasperated explanation of how hardware works. “Not our fault we heard.”

“Not your fault?” You say incredulously. “Not your fault that you heard me over the cameras you didn’t tell me about?” The van is silent for a second as you glare around at your team, everyone avoiding your gaze. “Did you all know about them?”

“They’re just a precaution,” MM says your name tightly. “For your safety-“

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“It ain’t like we put them in the bloody bathrooms or bedrooms, Love,” Butcher snaps. “We use them to check on you and Soldier Boy once a week, make sure you haven’t bashed each other’s brains in, and that fuckin it.”

“It’s an invasion of fucking privacy!” 

“It’s a CIA safe house,” Butcher sneers. “You expect privacy? Go to a Holiday Inn.”

Ben’s hand finds your thigh right before you can stand from your seat and throw Butcher into oncoming traffic. When you turn to look at him, his own anger moving into yours, he’s giving you a small frown of I’m not fucking happy about it either Sunshine, but you can’t kill Butcher right now.

You glare back at him. Since when are you anti-murder in any circumstance?

He rolls his eyes. Since it would result in you being locked up for murder and me going back in the box. He nudges his leg against yours once more and you realize you can feel the anger, but no drums. Get through all this, and I’ll kill Butcher however you want.

You huff a small laugh, and realize everyone is still silent around you, watching you and Ben with varying looks of confusion. You clear your throat nervously, and make an attempt to divert the conversation. “Frenchie, what’s the name of the place?”

“The Renegade Room,” Frenchie says smugly. “It is a hidden establishment, for those of our discrete nature.”

MM frowns, his voice exasperated. “I keep asking you what ‘discreet nature’ fucking means, and you haven’t given me a straight answer yet.”

“Those who have just as much to lose as their neighbor,” though Frenchie’s tone implies that his answer is simple—obvious even—everyone’s matching expression of confusion tells you they’re as lost as you are.

“Frenchie,” Hughie voices everyone’s concerns with a slow voice. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

Butcher’s voice is stern, angry. “Am I going to have to turn this bloody car ‘round? Because someone going to be made to pay all the fucking gas-“

“Not a car,” Ben mutters from your side, and you roll your eyes. 

“Well, Gov.” Butcher sneers from the front. “Next time we’ll take the real car, and you can ride in the bloody trunk.”

“You try and shove me in a trunk, I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

You sigh. “Can someone figure out what Frenchie means before these two Alpha male each other to death?”

Kimiko nudges your side, and you stick your tongue out at Ben’s scowl before you turn to her.

He told me it’s other supes who have left Vought, other citizens who were burned by them, anyone in hiding. She glares over her shoulder at Frenchie as she signs. Don’t feel bad, he’s not good at explaining it.

You laugh, signing thank you to her before repeating her words aloud.

“Oh,” Hughie is the first to react. “That’s, that’s smart Frenchie.”

“Oui, Petite Hughie. Teach all you imbeciles to doubt me.”

Everyone slowly returns to their conversations, Hughie giving up on his argument with Butcher and joining Annie and MM’s discussion about acceptable club music, and Ben hanging over your shoulder as you turn back to Kimiko.

What did Annie do to get you here? You sign, and she gives you a smile.

She bought me a dress. She gestures proudly to her outfit. And makeup. With lots of glitter.

You laugh. I got a similar treatment. And you look very nice.

So do you. Kimiko glances at Ben, who’s attempting to both sit pressed against you—as if you might vanish into thin air—and look completely disinterested in you and Kimiko’s silent conversation. Did he tell you look nice?

You feel heat on your face, and you blink at her. No. I mean, kind of? Why?

Kimiko shrugs. Just curious.

For a second you consider mentioning the “terrifyingly beautiful” thing, but the van jerks to a stop, the engine shutting off as Butcher stands. 

“Alright, ground rules Boys. No one gets drunk enough to cause a scene. Everyone stays close in case we need to make a quick exit. Frenchie, no drug dealing, this ain’t a business trip. MM, no cleaning the space, it’s a bloody futile effort. Hughie, try and let loose, or at least pretend you enjoy this. Starlight, keep your head down, we don’t need your celebrity status bitin us in the arse again.” Butcher says your name, giving you a glare the others didn’t receive. “No touching people, no going postal, either you or Frenchie are with the Female all the time, and keep your fucking boy toy in line. Soldier Boy, stick with her, and no explosions. Actually,” Butcher gives everyone a sharp glare. “That goes for all you cunts.”

You can feel Ben tensing at your side, his tight anger pounding with your heart, and the Feeling proves once more to be unhelpful as it decides to focus purely on how close he is to you.

“Does he always give such stupid fucking pep talks before everything these pussies do?” Ben mutters in your ear, and you kick his shin, failing to suppress your snort.

“Yeah, he does.” You look up in surprise at MM, who had stood to exit the van and apparently heard Ben’s comment. He doesn’t spare either of you a look, grumbling something about the Spice Girls as he continues on his way.

“Let us get the show on the road, non?” Frenchie stops before you and Kimiko, offering a hand down. “Mon Coeur?”

Kimiko smiles at him as she takes his hand, looping her arm through his, and they follow MM out of the van. 

“Are they fucking?” Ben asks, watching them as they leave.

You frown. “I honestly don’t know.”

He snorts, standing up. “They look like they’re fucking.” You roll your eyes, ignoring the Feeling sulking at the loss of his touch. You’re about to give him a snarky comment—probably about how his perception skills don’t have a very high success rate, because for the first month you lived together he refused to hear that Hughie and Butcher weren’t married—but your words die in your throat when Ben extends his hand down, holding right before you.

You look up at him, blinking as Hughie stumbles past Ben in the background. What are you doing?

He glares at you. Don’t make a damn scene, Sunshine. Just fucking take my hand before Butcher yells at us for being too slow.

You wrinkle your nose at him, but take Ben’s hand slowly, yelping in surprise as he grips you firmly, pulling you to your feet. You fall right into his chest, and the Feeling is thirsty again, restless inside you, making everything feel very solid and secure and he smells good and his hand is rough around you and would it feel this nice against other parts of your body? What would you need to say to get him to touch other parts of your body? He looks hungry again, maybe if you just asked-

“Oi, we ain’t got all night!” Butcher calls from outside. “Some of us have shit we want to do.”

Even the Feeling, still desperate inside of you, falls silent at that. You have things to do. Butcher’s almost ready. 

“We’re coming!” You call out, and don’t bother to remove yourself fully from Ben—you’re not sure the Feeling would allow you to—choosing to just tug him after you. The night air is cold, the wind is biting, and Ben’s warmth at your back makes it a lot harder to get the Feeling to calm down. There’s a harsh, putrid smell in the air that is completely covered by pine trees and coffee and Ben, and you’re so consumed by it, by the Feeling, you almost don’t realize the van is parked at the edge of a junkyard.

At first glance, the “club” looks suspiciously like an abandoned Blockbuster. There’s yellow caution tape all over the building, the windows are boarded up, and a Danger! Biohazard: Infectious Waste sign is hung on the doors. Frenchie ignores it, pushing right into the building, and everyone follows with apprehensive steps. 

The inside doesn’t improve anyone’s faith. There’s dust, grime, mold, and cobwebs at every corner and turn, you hear a scratching sound beneath your feet, those are definitely cracks on the walls, and something smells like dead fish.

“Frenchie, you fucker,” MM looks like he’s about to vomit, and you don’t think you’re faring much better. “If this is a prank I with beat your ass so goddamn hard-“

“Have a little faith, mon amie,” Frenchie cuts MM off, ignoring the daggers MM continues to glare at his head. “It is just right-“ You jump as Frenchie topples one of the empty shelves to the ground with a loud thud. “Here. Mon Coeur?”

Kimiko rolls her eyes, but moves to pick up the shelf with ease and pulls it aside as Frenchie pushes at the wall, which swings open to reveal a staircase.

“This is some James Bond bullshit.” MM grunts.

“Take it or leave it, Mate.” Butcher peers down the staircase, where you can hear the deep sounds of a bass and see occasional flashes of light. “I, for one, am thrilled. Bloody good work, Frenchie.”

As you descend the poorly lit, steep staircase, you and Ben trail at the back, and it occurs to you around half-way down that he still has an iron-like grip on your hand, that the stone-like resolve hasn’t left him—left you—and may be the only thing keeping you upright at this point. You glance up at him, elbowing him lightly until he returns your gaze.

You raise your eyebrows at him, hoping he can still read your expression in the darkness. No drums?

He frowns slightly. No. How the fuck did you know about that?

Felt it. You squeeze his hand in reminder. I think that means my experiment is working.

He rolls his eyes. Or maybe I just don’t have shell shock, brat.

Or maybe I’m never fucking wrong, cunt. You stick your tongue out, and swear the shadows play a cruel trick where his eyes fall and linger on your mouth. 

He winks at you, and your heart flails in its usual perfect rhythm with the Feeling. Before you can read his face is trying to tell you, he tugs you back slightly—right into his side—and you realize you’d been about to run head-first into Hughie’s back.

“Welcome, my friends, to The Renegade Room.” Frenchie does a wide sweeping gesture to the scene before you and you step a little further back, caught only by Ben’s arm around you.

If someone had asked you in the van to describe your expectations, you would have been dead on the money. Colorful, strobing lights, casting a neon glow. Sweaty, bouncing bodies crowded in the center of the room. The beat of the music carving deep, deep into your chest and running across your bones. Your’e clinging to Ben, half because he’s making no effort to remove himself from you, and half because if he does decide to let go you’re pretty sure you’ll freeze in a very inconvenient place. The Feeling tries to pull your body closer to him, even though his arm is slung around your shoulders and you’re still gripping his hand where it rests near your neck. 

Frenchie leads the group to one of the velvet-seated booths, wrapped in a smoky haze and completed with a round table that has a few stains that cause MM to clasp his hand firmly in his lap, scowling at the surface. 

You scoot in after Hughie, Ben following right behind you, never letting go. Annie remains standing, looking around the club before shouting over the music.

“Frenchie! Drinks?!”

Frenchie gestures to follow him, disappearing with Annie and Kimiko into the crowd.

“None of those fuckers listened to my ’stay close’ shit?” Butcher grumbles, and you sneer at him.

“We’re not fucking gazelle, Butcher, we’re people. People are going to wander.”

He glares at you, eyes narrowing as he looks you over, Ben’s arm still around you. Butcher snorts, shaking his head, and whatever cruel comment had been about to escape his mouth is cut off by Hughie’s nervous shouting.

“Are all these people fugitives from Vaught?” He’s leaning up, scanning the crowd. “Even, like, the bartenders?”

MM shrugs. “Probably. It works in our favor, kid, don’t worry.”

Hughie gives a reluctant nod, but doesn’t stop eyeing the patrons wearily.  

“I’m getting a bloody drink.” Butcher stands, giving you own last scowl. “I'll see you lot later. MM?”

MM grunts, standing as well, and they disappear in the same direction the others went, leaving you, Ben, and Hughie alone at the table.

“Um,” Hughie looks between you nervously. “Thank you for doing this, I know it’s weird, but-“

“Hello. there” Hughie is cut off by a bright eyed woman appearing before you, smiling down sweetly. “You three are new. We don’t get a lot of new people.”

“Well, doll, let’s just say we know a guy.” Ben drawls, and the Feeling becomes tight and bitter. 

She laughs, and the sound is sweet like a bell and grinds in your brain. “How did we all get here, hm?” She leans down, giving everyone a perfect, white-toothed smile. “What’s our story?”

Ben looks at you, Hughie follows his lead, and—you’re not sure why—apparently you’ve been volunteered to answer.

“Supes,” you point between you and Ben. “That Vought doesn’t like very much. Dude,” you point at Hughie. “Whose girlfriend got collaterally-damaged.”

“Hm,” she tilts her head, hair falling in perfect waves. “What kind of supes? Would I have heard of you?”

You answer before Ben can, sensing his wave of indigence wash through you. “Nope. Vought didn’t really have interest in making us public. I’m not very charismatic and I can’t lie.” Ben snorts, and you jab an elbow into his gut. “And this guy pees when he gets attention. Side-effect of the V, not very marketable.”

The woman blinks, and Ben gives you a fucking really, Sunshine? glower.

You give him a fake, wide-eyed look of innocence. What’s wrong, Pretty Boy? Did I say something?

He rolls his eyes. Brat.

Before you can give him a sickly-sweet smile of cunt, the woman is speaking again.

“I can deal with a little golden shower. You only fuck supes, Handsome? Or do mortals like me get a chance?” Ben blinks at her, and she leans forward, a sultry smile that feels like toxins in your body playing on her lips. “How about drugs? You do drugs?” 

Ben gives her a wide grin, something vile runs through your blood, and Hughie coughs.

“That’s my cue. I’m going to find Annie.” All but running from the table, Hughie vanishes into the fray as well, and it’s just you and Ben.

You, Ben, and the woman looking at Ben like he’s meat and she’s hungry.

“What’s on the menu?” Ben is smiling, and though it’s a colder smile than you’ve seen on his face in a while, it still makes the Feeling hiss inside you. 

The woman pulls out small bags from the top of her dress. “Whatever you want, darling.” The Feeling hates that more than handsome. Ben is handsome, that was just a factual statement. It haunted you how handsome he was, because it made it harder to dismiss the Feeling as just Ben is safe. It made the Feeling thirsty, and you violent. Her calling him darling was like a grip around your head, hot and brutal and constricting.

“Fucking hell, finally.” Ben grabs the bag with his free hand, and starts to examine it. “Coke?”

“Cut with a little something special,” the woman winks, and gives you a once over. “Your arm candy want some too?”

“As well,” Ben grunts, still looking at the baggie, and you feel a rush of amusement run through him. “And she’ll probably want to answer that herself.”

The woman looks at you fully, and you give a half-hearted shrug. 

“I think I’m good, thanks.” You shout, voice still hardly audible over the club. “I, uh, I’m not a huge coke person.”

She scoffs, turning her attention back to Ben. “You want some less uptight company, pretty boy?”

It’s not just the Feeling that hates that. Your teeth are clenched, you can feel your nails digging into your skin, you’re not sure if the smoke surrounding you is from you or just general club smoke. The Feeling is chanting something about throwing the woman across the room, punching out all her perfect teeth, and burning out her shining eyes. You’re on board with it.

“I’m good, doll.” Ben’s voice cuts through your gory fantasies, and his smile has returned down to you. “She’s plenty fun, aren’t you Sunshine?”

You blink stupidly, and make a weak sound of acknowledgment. The Feeling is still loud in your head, you can feel something shockingly strong running in your heart, and Ben is telling the woman he’s good but you can feel a hunger that doesn’t belong to the Feeling, a hunger you’ve only felt when the thirst had been unbearably strong. Lust. Ben was telling the woman he was good but he was feeling lust.

The woman just gives a simpering smile in your direction. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Only Ben’s arm, still around your shoulder as he dumps out the contents of the bag, stops you from leaping over the table and killing her.

You look back at Ben, still the lust still lingering as the woman disappears, and watch his frustratingly attractive side-profile as he examines the white powder on the table. 

“Looks legit?” He grunts, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s a question.

“I mean, it looks like cocaine. But it could just be, like, drywall.” Ben snorts, and unwelcome pride rushes through you. “I don’t know why you’re asking me, I’m not exactly a drug expert, Pretty Boy.” You say the last words firmer than you mean to, likely because the Feeling needs to make sure he hears them.

He hums, glancing back at you. “You sure you don’t want some? I’m willing to share.”

“Aren’t you just a pillar of charity?” You mumble, and he gives you a flat look. “No, Ben, I don’t want cocaine that was given to me in a shady club by a random woman who was keeping it in her boobs.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “You always call it cocaine, Sunshine?”

“What else am I supposed to call it?” You frown, and Ben chuckles.

“Coke. Like every other fucker on the planet. Do you call meth “methamphetamine’?”

“So what if I do?” You snapped, and he just laughs, giving you a wink before removing his arm from around you and diving nose-first into the white pile. The Feeling whines from the loss of his touch, and your nails would probably have scarred your skin if you were still human.

He comes up, wiping the drugs from his face. “Shit, that’s good. You fucking sure you don’t want a hit, Sunshine? It won’t affect you now, not like any normal human pussy.”

“I like to keep a firm rule about the boob-drug thing. I’m good.”

Ben just shrugs, and you feel him press his thigh fully against yours. The Feeling is calmed by the action, and makes you watch him in a trance-like state as he leans back against the booth cushions. There’s still a little powder caught in his beard, and the Feeling wants to wipe it off and offer it to him on your fingers-

“I didn’t think of Starlight as a boob-drug club type.” He raises his brows at you. “What made her decide to be less of a prudish bitch?”

“She’s just stressed,” you answer nonchalantly. “There’s slim-pickings for venues we can all attend, and I’d hazard a guess that almost all of them would be clubs of the boob-drug variety.”

Ben laughs loudly, the one that always lingers in your chest and that the Feeling drinks like fuel. He takes another snort—thigh still firmly against yours—and looks like he’s going to say something when he comes back up, but his attention gets caught in front of you. 

You follow his gaze and find Annie, a lot more smiley than you’ve ever seen her, watching you with wide-eyes.

“Annie are you-“

She says your name, her voice a bright and bubbly tone you’ve ever heard on TV. “Come dance!”

You frown. “I’m not supposed to leave Ben.”

“Oh, come onnn.” Annie’s words are slightly slurred, her smile too bright. “Everyone’s breaking Butcher’s stupid rules, if MM can start organizing the bar and Frenchie can hand out bathroom-pills, you can leave Soldier Boy for one dance.”

Ben nudges your shoulder, looking at you in mock hurt. “One dance, Sunshine. Do you not think I can behave myself for one dance?” 

You wrinkle your nose at him. Unhelpful.

He gives you a teasing, lop-sided smile. You said you’d have so much fun it would blow my mind. 

So? You scowl.

Dance, Sunshine. Have some fun. He looks back at Annie. “She’s coming.”

Annie squeals, and—giving Ben a dirty look as you do—you shuffle out of the booth. “This is peer pressure.” You mutter under your breath, and catch Ben’s huff of amusement.

You look at him as you stand, just long enough to see his wink of have fun, brat before Annie is pulling you into the throes of the crowd. 

Everything turns into a flash of furious and lustful and mournful and guilty and elation as you’re rammed through the dance floor, and your skin becomes coated in stress, starting from where Annie grips your wrist.

She releases you when you stop at the bar, leaning over the counter to wave someone down. You rub where she’d been holding you, the anxiety still humming through you.

“Annie, if you need to talk-“

“What's going on with you and Soldier Boy?” She shouts over your attempt, giving you a dizzy smile. “Is Butcher right? Are you fucking?”

You stare at her. “Jesus Christ, no, Annie, we’re not fucking.”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

“No!” Your voice is high, and you ignore the Feeling spinning resentfully inside of you. “Annie, what is going on with you-“

“Hughie told me that you two keep making ‘heart-eyes’ at each other,” she pokes your shoulder, and the stress jolts through you. “And he was right! You totally make heart-eyes!”

“No, we don’t. Annie, you have to stop touching me, I think you keep forgetting-“

“I don’t keep ‘forgetting’,” her voice is exasperated as she says your name. “I just don’t care!” She giggles, and your concern grows. “And you’re trying to change the subject!”

“I’m not, I’m just worried-“

“Did he Stockholm synonym you? Is that it?”

“Stockholm syndrome,” you correct with a small frown. “And I think technically I Stockholmed Ben-“

“See!” Annie grabs your hands between hers. “You call him Ben. Like he’s a person!”

The Feeling doesn’t like that, and you tense defensively. “He is a person, Annie.”

She nods. “And you’re fucking him.”

“I’m not fucking him!” Your protests are growing weaker, and you chalk it up to Annie’s persistence. 

“You let him touch you!” She squeezed your hands. “Like, all the time.”

“Because he doesn’t care.” You say firmly. “If you weren’t seven-plus shots into the night, you wouldn’t be touching me, Annie. Because I can feel that there’s something wrong with you. Please just talk to me-“

“No!” She shouts, her grip on you becoming slightly painful. “I just want to have fun! I’ve never gotten to have fun! I’ve never had normal friends and had normal fun so can we please just dance?!” She says your name in a pleading tone. “I just want to dance with my friend.”

You blink. “I, um, I didn’t know we were friends.” You glance back at her hands, still around yours. “You’re kind of, you act like you’re afraid of me usually.”

Annie’s face falters for a second, and you feel her guilt rush through her. She says your name a little sadly, looking at you with big eyes. “Your powers are scary. Really, really scary. You’re kind of scary. But I still want to be your friend.”

Your chest squeezes. “I don’t think most of the others agree with that sentiment, Annie. I don’t want to ostracize you any more.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You mean fucking Butcher? That asshole will get over it.”

“But-“

Annie says your name in the strongest tone you’ve heard her use since you arrived. “Everyone else is scared of you, because you’re scary.”

“Calling me scary isn’t a great way to tell me you want to be my friend-“

“But they don’t hate you. Kimiko loves you, Frenchie likes that Kimiko loves you, MM isn’t a huge fan of you and Soldier Boy fucking-“

“We’re not-“

She presses a finger to your lip. “But he still respects you. He thinks you’re okay. Hughie’s nervous because that man is always nervous-“ She sighs dreamily at nothing, words becoming slightly more slurred. “But he thinks you’re cool.”

You hum an acknowledgment through your lips, and Annie pulls back.

“Now can we please dance? Like normal people?”

You give her a smile, and it’s not forced. “Yeah, we can dance like normal people.”

Annie pulls you from the bar, right to the center of the dance floor, and starts dancing a little off-beat. Laughing, you grab her arms, moving her onto the rhythm of the song rolling through the club. Time turns into a blur, and you feel light. Everything is just the music and bubbly laughter and dancing in a way you haven’t in three years. You can’t sing, but you can move. Swaying and bouncing in time with the music, lost in the bass and the lights. You’re sweaty, and your hard work from the afternoon is probably ruined, and you’re a little breathless, but it feels just stupid and easy and fun. You’re not drunk—you can’t be anymore—but everything feels easy. The Feeling sneaks up on you, and suddenly you’re missing him again. You’re having fun, and the Feeling is suddenly painfully insistent that he be at your side, having fun with you.

You stumble away from Annie, stopping at the edge of the crowd as you look for Ben. It’s a little worrying how easy you find where he’s still sat, the white pile almost entirely gone from the table. Your brain is so full of the Feeling, repeating his name in a harmony of Ben, Ben, Ben, that you almost miss that he’s not alone. 

The lady with the sweet smile and bright eyes is next to him, where you had been. You can see the pearl of her smile from where you’re standing, imagine the honey-like drip of her voice. Ben’s arms aren’t around her, rested on the table as he speaks, but you can’t see his legs, and the Feeling is kicking at your gut.

You’re frozen for a second, and you hear a voice from somewhere to your side. 

“Ready for our chat, Love?"

You turn sharply, and see Butcher’s humorless, cold smile for only a second before he’s grabbing your arm, tugging you roughly away from Ben, past the crowd, and into a broom closet. He lets go like you’ve burned him—you’re certain you didn’t—and toss the rag he’d been using to the side.

“What the fuck, Butcher?!” You hiss as he shakes out his hand. “You couldn’t have just asked me to follow you?!”

“You were mooning over Soldier Boy like a damn puppy. Couldn’t risk him seeing us and asking stupid fucking questions.” Butcher gives you a smirk. “You two kiss and make up about your little lie?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Boy, he was bloody pissed.” Butcher laughs mockingly. “Was real fucking worried about you, Love. Made us put on the cam audio cause he was so fuckin worried.” He sneers the last words, and you cross your arms across your chest, violating shutting down how Butcher’s words make the Feeling warm with images of Ben and the woman with the perfect smile.

“Our conversation about cameras isn’t fucking over, you asshole.” You snap, and Butcher scoffs.

“Please, it ain’t going to even fucking matter soon, is it now?” He meets your glare with another crude grin. “And you’re the forgiving type, Love, aren’t you. You forgave Soldier Boy for his little lie about the meeting.”

You grit your teeth. “Yeah, I did.”

“And he forgave you about the singing shit?”

“Yep.” You hold his gaze, the itch of heat under your skin starting to build.

Butcher smile is all teeth and cold mockery and bored hatred. “He doesn’t know what he was really forgiving you for, does he?”

You can see smoke curling around you. “Shut the fuck up, Butcher. Let’s just get this over with.”

He rolls his eyes, but his face falls into seriousness. “Fine, Love, suck all the fuckin fun out of it. It’ll be ready in nine days.”

“Nine days?” You take a deep, jagged breath and the fire crawls around your head. “And you’re sure it will work. We only get one fucking chance, Butcher, you have to be certain—“

“I am certain,” he hisses. “Everything is lined up perfectly. The opening is in nine days, I’ll take the Boys on a wild goose chase, and this will fucking work.”

You nod slowly, and the air feels like poison in your lungs. “What about Ben?”

“Well,” Butcher jeers. “It looks like the little bloody bond you two formed is going to work in our favor. And if it doesn’t we’ll lock him in the safe house and figure out some sort of gas-gun. It won’t be your fucking problem either way.”

“What if Ryan doesn’t listen?” You whisper in a futile attmept to keep the fear from your voice. “What it doesn’t work-“ “That boy loved his mother.” Butcher’s voice is firm, and there’s something distant in his glare. “He’ll listen.”

“He doesn’t know me-“

“You getting fucking cold feet? On your own fucking plan?”

“No,” you snap. “I just want to prepare for every fucking hurdle so I’m not throwing myself in front of a train just for you to fuck me, Butcher.”

“It’s going to fucking work.” Butcher says, jaw clenched. “Nine days.”

You pull yourself together with a too-long, too-heavy breath. “Nine days.”

Butcher exits the closet before you do, leaving the fire clawing through you, blurring the world. You close your eyes, desperate to regain some semblance of control. 

City lights. Music. City lights. Music. City lights. Music.

Ben.

Your eyes shoot open, and the Feeling starts the chew through the fire. City lights, music, Ben. The itch starts to wane, so you let the Feeling take over.

City lights, music, Ben. City lights, and music, and Ben.

Ben.

You’re grounded. Everything is clear, the fire is gone—you’ll deal with the implications of what did those things later—and so you exit the closet. You can’t go back to the booth—not if Ben and the woman are still there, because it might make something rotten wake up inside you—so you wander, looking for Annie. You find her clinging to Hughie in a corner, arms around him with her head in his chest, and decide to leave them be. A few minutes later you see Kimiko, standing vigilantly outside the toilets, and a relieved breath escapes you. You start to duck and weave through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathrooms, and are intercepted by Ben as you run head-first into his chest.

“Ow!” You try to push back from him, but he grabs your arm with a firm look. You peer at the expression on his face, a lot more stoic than you anticipated, and you feel that concrete concern of his, along with something hard in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been looking for you for fifteen goddamn minutes, Sunshine.” He snaps, ignoring your question. “Where the fuck did you go?”

You give a loose shrug, trying not to let the Feeling and it’s need for Ben to keep holding your arm distract you. “Bathroom.” You say lamely.

“Bullshit, you’re going towards the bathroom right now.”

“They were out of tampons, there was a girl who needed some.” 

He narrows his eyes at you as he scans your body, and it makes the Feeling feral. “Where are they then?”

“Huh?” The Feeling is starting to be a cognitive issue, because your brain feels fuzzy from Ben’s touch. “Where’s what.”

“The fucking tampons.”

“They were out. I’m going to tell her to do the toilet paper method.” You take a gamble that Ben’s prevalent disinterest in what he calls women shit will work in your favor. And it does.

Ben grunts, and though you feel the thing in your chest loosen, the concern prevails and he doesn’t release you. “Once you do that, we’re leaving.”

You blink at him in surprise. “What about boob-drugs?” Your voice is a little louder than it needs to be, and Ben just frowns with a shrug.

“Wasn’t interested,” he says gruffly, looking down at you. The intensity of his gaze, combined with this information, was not helpful to controlling the Feeling, which started to move in time with your heart once more. 

“Okay,” you sound breathless. “I’ll just, um, bathroom.” 

He nods sternly, and you clear your throat.

“Benjamin.”

“What.”

“You’re welcome to join me on my endeavor, but if you’re not interested in talking about the toilet-paper method with some random girl-“ You gesture pointedly to his hold on your arm. 

He gives you a blank look for a moment, and you watch the pieces fall into place in his head. He releases your arms mechanically, and gives you a tense nod. As you walk to the bathroom Ben trails at your side, posture more rigid than you’ve ever seen it. Kimiko smiles when she sees you approaching, signing a greeting. You smile back, offering one of your own.

Do you need to pee? She glanced up at Ben beside you. Does he need to pee? 

No, you glance at Ben watching you both intently. I just need to go in for like two minutes. I told Ben I was helping a girl that doesn’t exist.

She frowns. Why? 

He lost me in the crowd when he was doing drugs. Got weird about it. A half-truth, you reason, it better than an outright lie. I’ll just be in and out.

“What are you saying?” Ben grumbles, glaring between you. 

“Don’t worry about it, Pretty Boy.” You say aloud, signing damn man-baby to Kimiko, who giggles.

He scowls. “Is she going to let you go in or do I need to fucking move her?”

Kimiko flips him off, telling you just say I’m telling you it’s fine. You don’t want to go in there anyways, Frenchie’s doing drugs.She frowns. Or dealing drugs. Or both.

“Apparently someone already helped the girl, Kimiko saw her leave.” You give her a grateful nod, turning back to Ben. “We can go wait at the booth until everyone is ready-“

“No.” He snaps, and you blink in surprise. “We’re leaving now.”

“We all came here together, there’s only one car-“

“I don’t give a shit, Sunshine, we’re leaving. Even if we have to steal the shitty fucking pussy-Mobile to do it.”

You feel Kimiko whack your arm, signing when you turn to her. Do you want me to tell Frenchie to drive you home again? 

You shake your head. No, it’s fine. 

You can’t call a taxi, she signs your name with a frown. And he looks angry.

He’s being a child, he’ll be fine. As you sign to Kimiko, you say aloud to Ben, “we’re not stealing the van, Ben.”

“What about boob-drugs’ car?”

You look at him with a frown. “What?”

“She told me she had a blue Lexmus. We can take that.”

“Lexmus?” You tilt your head. “Do you mean a Lexus?”

“Is that a car?” You nod, and he shrugs. “Then fucking sure.”

“We’re not stealing a random ladies car either!” You protest. “And we can’t just leave-“

Kimiko grabs your attention again, signing I could cover for you, and I don’t think Butcher would care if you stole a car.

You wave her off, but Ben catches on. “She’s agreeing with me, isn’t she?”

“No, she isn’t.” Your insistence is immediately undermined by Kimiko nodding vigorously. What the hell? You sign, and she shrugs.

You look tired, and we might be a few more hours. Let Soldier Boy take you home. 

You sigh, rubbing your face as you look back at Ben. “If I agree to this, if, I’m driving.”

He nods. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Sunshine.” He extends his hand, you shake it reluctantly, and before you can pull back he’s pulling you through the crowd and up the stairs. 

It takes you shockingly little time to find boob-drugs’ Lexus, partially because it’s an electric-blue luxury car parked in a sea of sketchy vans and beaten down Honda Civics, partially because Ben says she parked it towards the back of the yard and is able to make a direct path to it. His hand is in yours the entirety of the walk, a fact that manages to push down the bitterness the Feeling has about him knowing where the car is parked. Ben removes his hand from yours only when you reach the car itself, and smashes through the glass on the window in one clean punch.

“Fucking christ, Ben, warn a lady!” You jump back as the glass flies through the air, the car alarm blaring through the night.

Ben leans through the window, gashes on his face and hands quickly healing as he unlocks the car. “Don’t be dramatic, brat.” He dismisses. “You heal just as fast as I do.”

You frown as he kneels down below the dashboard. “Are you sure you know how to do this? This isn’t some dogshit muscle car, this has like, actual security.”

“Looks the damn same,” he grunts. “I’ll figure it out, Sunshine. Don’t fucking worry.”

You rub your shoulders, looking around the junkyard anxiously. “Why do you know how to do this again?”

He just shrugs. “I’m from Philly.”

“That’s not a real explanation, Pretty Boy.”

“Wasn’t much to do for fun when I was a kid. We didn’t have all the shitty modern toys kids have today.”

“So you stole cars? Weren’t you rich?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I mean, you could’ve just bought one-“

Ben looks up at you with a scowl. “You think my father would’ve given me money to buy a car?”

“No,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

He sighs. “Stop fucking apologizing all the damn time, Sunshine. Remember, you’re never wrong.” Though his voice is teasing, it’s not covered in a cold sarcasm, making the Feeling buzz. You’re about to push him for more answers when the engine hums to life, and Ben sits up, giving you a cocky wink. “Fucking told you. Never doubt me again, brat.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, cunt. Get out of my seat.”

“No,” Ben settles into the driver’s seat, looking up at you smugly. “I think I’ll drive.”

“You dick, you fucking shook on it-“

“You’re tired,” Ben says your name with a bored voice, and very suddenly exhaustion hits you through your body. He really needs to stop doing that.

“No, I’m not.” You manage to fight the urge to yawn as you protest. “And you can’t drive.”

He glares at you. “Yes, I fucking can.”

“Not legally.”

“Nothing about this is fucking ‘legal’.”

“Benjamin, the last time you drove was the fucking 80s.”

“So?”

“Cars aren’t the same.”

He gives the interior of the car a frown. “Looks the fucking same to me.” He turns back to you. “And I’m not letting you behind the wheel, you look like you’re about to damn collapse.”

“Oh, fuck off Ben, you don’t give a shit about safe-driving.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “You’re still not fucking driving.”

“You’re just being an ass-“ You cut yourself off, the yawn fighting its way to the surface. At Ben’s smug look, you scowl. “Shut up.”

“Get in the car before I have to make you.”

The Feeling likes that idea, and in your exhaustion it’s harder to resist it. “You don’t even know how to get home.”

“You’ll help me.” Ben’s tone lacks any doubt, and you hate that he’s right. “Get in the fucking car.”

You glare at him, but stumble around to the passenger’s side, practically falling into the seat. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open long enough to pull up directions—especially as Ben’s hand finds your thigh as you fumble with your phone—and almost the second after you explain that all Ben has to do it listen to the robot lady’s voice, sleep starts to tug at the corners of your eyes. 

You hear a soft chuckle from Ben. “Sleep well, Sunshine.” And something soft runs through your body as his voice falls through your head.

Everything is covered in the smoking haze of the club, but there’s no music, no blinding lights, no one else in the area but you. You and Ben.

He’s grinning down at you, arm around you again, and you feel light-headed. Because all his attention is on you, and though there’s no one else in the club, you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter. He’d just keep looking at you.

“Terrifyingly beautiful.” His voice has an odd echo to it as he speaks. “Aren’t you, Sunshine.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is confident, silky, and his smile widens.

“Not so bad, huh? Not frustratingly handsome?”

“Maybe. Not sure yet.”

Ben’s mouth is suddenly hovering right over your own, and it looks soft, curving into a smirk. “Anything I can do to convince you?”

“What do you have in mind?”

His mouth crashes into yours, and it’s perfect. It fits like it was made to be there, it moves like it’s been there a thousand times. You moan his name, and he just pushes deeper in, pulling you onto his lap like you’re made of nothing.

“Perfect,” Ben groans against your lip. “Fucking perfect.”

You whimper, and he chuckles as you start to grind against his thigh. “Ben-“

“Needy thing, aren’t you?” He moves from your mouth, starting to kiss sloppily down your neck. “Gonna beg, Sunshine? Ask nicely for me to fuck you?”

“I hate you-“

“No you don’t,” he nips at your skin.

“Ben-“

“Say please, beautiful. Tell me you want me.”

“Fuck you-“

“That doesn’t sound like please.”

You gasp, because his hands are everywhere. Tangled in your hair, tracing along your skin, running over your ass. His thigh is pushed fully into your core, but he’s gripping you too firmly, stopping you from chasing release. “Please,” the words are choked with desire. “Please, Ben, please.”

He laughs, a deep, satisfied sound that echoes everywhere. “A little more.”

You moan, clinging to his arms desperately. “Ben, please. Fuck me, please fuck me.”

He pulls back from your neck, grinning widely down at you for only a second before crashing his mouth back into yours. “Good girl,” Ben grunts against your lips, and suddenly you’re not in the booth anymore. You’re at home, in your bed, and he’s fully naked above you, smirking down at your body as he takes it in.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, and you’re flying. Ben is everywhere, everything. Nothing has felt like this, nothing will feel like this ever again. It’s so painfully hazy, like a cloud is over the world and every single touch along your skin and kiss against your lips or neck or cunt is wiped away, but you’re so high. It’s just Ben, Ben, Ben, with groans and hands and safe and warm and Ben. His face is above yours, watching you with hooded, hungry eyes as you feel full, and holding so gently in contrast with every other movement of his body. He kisses you again, and it’s deep and heavy and Ben.

Ben. Ben. You’re not thirsty anymore, you’ll never be thirsty for the rest of your life, because this is everything. Ben.

Ben.

Light leaks into your vision, chasing away the haze. You don’t really know how, but you’ve woken in your own bed, sheets clinging to the sweat of your body and sleep running away from your brain. You feel Ben before you see him. He’s asleep at your side, arm hanging loosely across your body. His head is pressed into the pillow, hair falling across his face, and you want to run your hands through it. The remnants of your dream linger, pushing to the front of your head, and you feel your face flush as you fail to pull your gaze from him. The Feeling felt so peaceful, Ben smells good, and he’s right here. With you. And you can’t bring yourself to move.

You simply lay in bed for an immeasurable amount of time, and realize that both you and Ben are in the same clothes from last night. You manage to grope around your bedside table for your phone without disturbing Ben, and sighing wearily as you see a barrage of texts and missed calls. 

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever (4) missed calls. Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions (2) missed calls. Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy (3) missed calls.

Kimiko: Second Hottest Person on the Team

Told Frenchie

Annie January: Arm Wrestling Champion

Frenchie said you and Soldier Boy left in a stolen car?

Are you safe?

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

Can you tell Annie you’re home?

She’s losing her mind.

Also Butcher.

He’s mad.

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever 

You and Soldier Boy have a fun joyride?

Fucking call me.

MM and Hughie are heading over to the safe house. Someone’s looking for you.

You blink at the last message. Someone’s looking for you. You swipe the screen, trying to see the time Butcher sent the text, and panic runs through you as you read 9:45 AM.

It’s nearly noon. 

You poke Ben, and he grunts, arm around you tightening. 

“Ben.” You hiss, shaking him. “Wake up.”

“Fuck off, Sunshine.” He mumbles, and the Feeling is comfortable in your chest.

You push through it. “Benjamin, wake the fuck up.” Nothing. You raise your voice from a hushed whisper. “I’ll burn you again, Pretty Boy, I swear to God.” 

That gets him to open his eyes. “Will you never just fucking let me sleep?”

“I think MM and Hughie are downstairs.”

Ben frowns. “Why?”

“Because Butcher texted that they were coming over two hours ago.” You poke him with your foot, and it occurs to you that your legs are a little more tangled than you’d originally noticed. “Can you listen for them?”

“It’s too fucking early, Sunshine.”

“It’s noon.” When Ben only huffs, you give him a pleading look. “Please?”

He groans, closing his eyes. For a second you think he’s just going back to sleep, but he mutters, “Two people downstairs. Can’t tell who.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he makes a low sound from his chest that doesn’t aid your motivation to get up. “Ben, I need to move.”

“Why.” His voice is rough, and makes the Feeling flutter.

“I need to talk to Hughie and MM. They’ve probably been waiting a while.”

“Then they can wait a little fucking longer.”

“Please.” He doesn’t move, holding you tighter. “Ben, you don’t have to up get yourself. You can stay here.”

You feel something run through you—him—that’s taut and almost bitter. Your heart rumbles, and the Feeling wants to sooth the sleepy frown that flashes across Ben’s face, but before you can he’s rolling over, detaching his body from yours.

You hesitate to move, but your phone buzzes with another text that forces your body to roll off the bed.

Marvin Milk: Holder of Incorrect Dr. Dre Opinions

Get your ass up so me and Hughie can fucking leave.

You shuffle unsteadily out of your bedroom and down the stairs, and rubbing your sleep-puffed face in a desperate attempt to pull any lingering sleep from your head. MM and Hughie are sitting stiffly on the couch, looking remarkably uncomfortable as they wait. You clear your throat, and they shoot to their feet in attention.

“Finally,” MM glared at you. “We’ve been waiting for fucking hours.”

You give a guilty cringe, still wiping sleep from your eyes. “Sorry guys, I didn’t know you were here.”

“How did you get home?” Hughie asks tentatively, and you blink at him.

“Ben stole a car. I know I shouldn’t have let him, but-“

Hughie interrupts your apology. “A car?”

“Um. Yeah. Blue Lexus.” You look between their confused expressions. “Is it not outside?”

“No,” Hughie frowns. “Are you sure-“

“Kid, we don’t have time for this.” MM gives Hughie a firm look. “They both got home, no one died, how it happened ain’t our fucking concern right now.” Hughie gives a small nod, and the quiet anxiety on his face sparks concern in your chest.

“What’s going on?” You ask nervously. “Is everyone ok?”

MM sighs. “Everyone’s fine. And we were hoping you could tell us what’s going on.” 

You frown, but nod for him to continue. MM takes a large breath, looking at his phone as he speaks.

“Frenchie got a security alert at the Starlight Fund building early this morning. A lady had broken in, and was shouting at the security cams, demanding to speak to someone. We watched her on the cameras for a bit and it sounded like-“ MM clears his throat. “It sounded like she was looking for you.”

The fire starts in your throat, and you barely manage to whisper. “Me?”

“She called you by your name. Your full, legal name. Even got the last name right, not the bullshit one Vought’s been using for press about you and Homelander.”

The fire is against your teeth and under your nails as MM pushes on.

“Said she knew you. You you, not the Anomaly or your Vought persona. Wanted to talk to Starlight about it. Mentioned that Vought wouldn’t give her a straight answer, they kept insisting she had the wrong person, but she knew it had been you at the Firecracker rally.”

Hughie steps in, giving you a pitiful look. “She was really, um, aggressive.” He mumbles. “Made a lot of graphic threats.”

“Kind of sounded like you,” MM adds tightly, watching you carefully. “Looked like you too.”

Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “Do you- do you have a photo?”

MM nods, turning the screen of his phone to you. Your blood is white-hot as you stare at the photo on display. You knew that face. The last time you’d seen it there had been more baby-fat clinging to its cheeks, more light in its eyes, and the hair that had framed it had been longer, but you’d recognize it anywhere. It haunted you.

“Violet,” you breathe out. Your baby sister is frozen in the screen capture MM’s showing you, a crazed, furious expression on her features, teeth bared mid-shout.

MM coughs, and you tear your eyes from the screen. “So you know her?”

You nod heavily. “She’s my sister. Younger. I- I haven’t seen her since before.”

“She said you were dead.” Hughie said softly. “Said everyone thought you’d killed yourself, that they’d found a note but no body. That everyone thought she was going insane, but she knew it was you.”

“Homelander faked my death,” your voice is hoarse, the world is fuzzy and lined with cold something pushing into you. “I even have- Had a grave.”

MM catches your self-correction. “Had?”

“Butcher threw me into it the first night we all met.” You say flatly. “I don’t know if it ever got fixed.”

Both MM and Hughie look apologetic, but you don’t really care. Everything is painful, and you can’t breathe. “You-“ the words struggle out of you, driven by fear for Violet. “You said she talked to Vought?”

“Yeah, but they seemed to either screen her calls or insist she was just grief-stricken and looking for answers where there weren’t any.”

You nod to yourself at Hughie’s words, though they do little to alleviate the fire spreading into your bones and starting to curl in smoke around you. “What did- did you tell her anything?”

“Tell who anything.” Ben’s voice rumbles from behind you, and everything comes into a sharper focus as his arm is pushed into yours. “What the fuck’s going on.”

“This isn’t your problem, motherfucker,” MM snaps. “Piss right the hell off.”

Ben stiffens, and the stone-like protection runs through you.

“I- MM I need-“ You give a tight, strangled cough, not strong enough to fight the Feelings need to lean further into Ben. “Please let him stay.”

MM gives you a disbelieving look, like he might start to argue, but Hughie interjects.

“We haven’t talked to her yet. We wanted to see if you knew her.”

“Will someone tell me who the goddamn hell we’re talking about?” Ben snaps.

MM glowers at him. “Her sister,” he answers coldly. “Lady recognized her from the Firecracker incident. Want to make sure she’s safe.” The last words are sneered, and Ben’s arm wraps around you. 

“She is safe-“

MM ignores Ben, looking back at you. “Well?” He says your name in a firm, impatient tone. “What are we telling her?”

You take a deep, heavy breath. “Tell her I’m dead.”

“What?” Hughie stares at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely fucking serious.” You force your tone to be strong, devoid of emotion. “I’m dead. She should stop looking for me, because I killed myself three years ago.”

“But you didn’t-“

“Hughie.” You snap. “I’m dead. That’s it.”

Ben’s hold on you is almost painful. He’s silent, fingers digging into your side, and you feel his stare piercing through you, feel something strained running through him. 

Hughie says your name with forced gentleness, but MM cuts him off.

“You’re sure.”

You nod firmly. “Positive. I’m dead, MM. Please.” Your voice cracks at the end, and your heart starts to claw at your ribs.

“Fine, you’re dead. Let’s go, Hughie.”

“MM, you can’t be fucking serious.”

“Let’s go.” MM gives you one last, unreadable look before he walks into the hall.

Hughie stares at you, looking reluctant to leave, but MM shouts from the exit. 

“Hughie, if you don’t haul ass right fucking now, I’m leaving you here.”

Then they’re both gone, and Ben’s hold is the only thing keeping you upright. You stand in silence for a second, your heart roaring in pain, before you pry yourself from Ben and try to move back up the stairs.

You barely make it five steps before he’s grabbing your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“What the fuck was that.”

His voice is too cold, too angry. You’re so tired. “Please, Ben-“

“You’re not fucking dead, Sunshine. Your sister’s fucking looking for you, and you’re going to make those pussies tell her you’re dead?!”

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, and he scoffs.

“Is this about your stupid fucking ‘protecting them’ shit? That why you’re fucking lying to them?”

“I can’t-”

“They need to know you’re fucking alive,” he says your name with fury lining his voice. “If they care so goddamn much to go looking for you, they fucking deserve it.”

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

“I think I fucking do, Sunshine. You did your goddamn hero bullshit, tried to keep your family safe,” Ben’s words are stabbing through your chest. “But it’s too fucking late, so just tell them-“

“No!” You scream, yanking your wrist from his grip. “Shut the fuck up, Ben! You have no fucking clue what I’m trying to do. I’m not on a goddamn fucking high horse about saving them, or any other hero shit! Just shut the fuck up!”

He’s yelling too now, and something is fracturing in your body. “They need to fucking know!” He takes a step forwards. “They fucking deserve-“

“Why do you care so fucking much about this? They’re not your fucking family! You don’t even fucking know them.”

“Because I would fucking want to know!” He roars. “I would go fucking insane and they probably are too!”

The thing isn’t fracturing in your body. It’s split apart, into a million bits and pieces, and your legs give out as all the air leaves your body. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and it’s too late to stop it. You hear Ben shout your name, feel his arms wrap around your body, and all your fury is just pain because you’re so angry at him, but as he carries you up the stairs, no part of you wants to fight him. 

Ben sits on the bed, making no attempt to let go. You hold onto him, clinging to his shirt, his smell, the feel of him, the sound of his voice as it hums a familiar tune, and breathing finds a way to no longer be an act of labor.

“I’m-“ you take a shaking breath. “I’m sorry-“

“Stop apologizing.” He snaps, before taking a heavy breath. “It’s me that should be-“ He coughs, and you pull your head from his chest. 

“I’m-“

“Stop, just-“ Ben frowns at nothing. “I need to-“ His jaw clenches, gaze falling to yours for only seconds before he’s glaring at the space above your head again. 

“Ben-“

“I’m sorry.” The words sound as if they’re falling out of him, and he's not looking at you. “I’m fucking sorry.”

You watch him glance back down at you, and you try and offer him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not-“

“Please,” you whisper. “I don’t, I can’t fight. Please.”

He just grunts, but his hold on you tightens, and you decide that it’s victory.

“What-“ you take another, slower breath. “What happened to the car?”

You watch his lips turn down, and he looks at you from under his eyelashes. “The car?”

“The one we stole.”

Ben gives a dry laugh. “You didn’t do much stealing Sunshine, you just stood there looking pretty.”

You roll your eyes, pushing down the warmth running through you from Ben calling you pretty. “Don’t dodge the question, Benjamin. What did you do with the car.”

He shrugged. “Ditched it a few blocks away. Carried you to the house.”

“How-” you frown at him. “How did you get in the house by yourself?”

“I pay attention, brat. I’m not as fucking stupid as all you pussies think I am. I just damn copied what everyone else does.”

“Oh.” You know that you should probably tell MM or Butcher or Mallory that Ben knows how to work the safe-house entrance—and likely the exit as well—but you don’t want to. Some very stupid part of you, that’s not just the Feeling, trusts him.

“You were really fucking out of it, Sunshine,” he teases. “Clinging to me like a damn baby.”

You feel your face heat. “It was cold.”

“You have fire powers.” He snorts. “Try to lie a little better.”

You pinch him, and he shoots you a fake look of hurt. “Cunt.”

“Brat.” His voice is lighter, and as the room falls back into silence, neither of you make an attempt to let go over each other. He just holds you and when you lean your head onto his chest, you’re soothed by its steady rise and fall, the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

I would fucking want to know. His words echo in your ears. I would go fucking insane.

Guilt is eating you, because ringing over Ben’s shouts are Butcher’s cold words from last night. Nine days.

I would go fucking insane.

Nine days.

This is the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. But your sister’s face is etched against your eyes when you close them, and think the sound of Ben’s heart might start to haunt your dreams. 

Nine days. Butcher’s voice doesn’t stop there this time. He doesn’t know what he was really forgiving you for, does he?

I would go fucking insane.

The right thing. The only thing.

You hold Ben a little tighter, and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just holds you tighter back. As you listen to his breathing, feeling the gentle, satisfied hum in your heart, you pray to someone, something, anything at all, that his heart will stay with you the whole way through. That Ben will forgive you when this is over. You don’t think it’s just the Feeling that won’t survive if he doesn’t.

End Note: Me, writing this chapter: god these two really need to fuck (I am completely in charge of when they do and don’t fuck)

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 12 (words: 1069)(nice.)

First Previous Next

Charles ran. His breath came out in puffs of white fog and he ignored the sting in his lungs.

His head felt like a jar full of bees, impossible to focus on a single thought. They all tumbled together, and that’s why he needed Crystal.

Crystal would know what to do. Talking with her would help him clarify the answer to this mess. Though Crystal could make bad choices in her own life, she always gave good advice.

Charles climbed the fence surrounding the property and waded in wet grass towards the house. The von Hovenkraft mansion was a newer building than Charles’ home, but just as massive. It had those pretentious white pillars framing the main door, imitating old Roman architecture.

Halfway to the steps of the porch Charles changed his mind and steered at the side of the house. It probably wouldn’t go well banging the front door at this hour. He only needs to see Crystal, not to rouse the whole household.

Crystal’s room had a balcony over those same pillars, and it made throwing stones at her window difficult. The pillars were too smooth to climb too, so Charles grabbed a fire escape ladder.

Making quick work up the ladder Charles was soon on the balcony, behind the glass doors. He tried the handle and then knocked on the glass urgently. A moment later, the curtain was yanked open and Crystal’s furious being appeared. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, holding a metallic candle stand in her raised fist.

“What the fuck, Charles?!” She whisper-yelled when she cracked the door open. “I thought someone was going to break in and murder me!”

“Sorry,” Charles muttered and slipped in. He hadn’t realized how chilly the night really was until the warmth of Crystal’s bedroom hit his skin.

“So what are you doing here? It’s fucking what, three in the morning?” Crystal complained and shuffled back to bed, pulling the still-warm cover on her shoulders.

“It’s kind of urgent. I was- I don’t know, I think- I was trying to-” Charles explained frantically, but the words didn’t do what he wanted them to do.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Crystal gave him a pointed look. “Start from the beginning.”

“You have to promise you won’t freak out or anything, okay?!” Charles warned, feeling close to freaking out himself.

He rocked sideways from one leg to the other, wiped his hands on his jeans and took a big gulp of air. Crystal’s arched eyebrow urged him to get to the point.

“So, I went to the forest to practice the vows, right, because I want to be proper good when it matters. Don’t want to muck things up on the big day, do I?” Charles laughed nervously.

“Then I got to the end, and a literal corpse appeared from the ground, saying we’re married now, and took me into the Underworld,” he said quickly, risking a glance at Crystal.

Her eyes widened when her eyebrows shot up. Charles winced. He should’ve known Crystal wouldn’t believe him, he sounded well out of his mind, didn’t he?

“You went to the Underworld?!” Crystal almost screamed at him. “Did you see Niko?!”

“Uhh,” Charles said. “Niko, as your girlfriend..?”

“Who else?! Get a grip, Charles!” Crystal demanded.

Charles thought back to the photograph he’d seen of the Japanese teen, with her long, silky black hair. The only Asian girl matching her age he remembered seeing was Edwin’s friend, whose name he didn’t catch in all the hubbub. But her hair was white.

He shook his head. “I don’t think..?”

Crystal visibly deflated, dark shadow returning in her eyes. It took a moment of silence for Charles to remember that he was in the middle of a freak-out.

“The corpse groom. Right. He’s so fit, mate, you don’t even know. And kind. So he helped me get back here, but he thinks I’ve gone to talk to my parents about marrying him!” Charles recounted, his voice getting higher in pitch, his hands waving restlessly, unable to settle.

“Why’d you lie?” Crystal asked him.

“I don’t know! Crystal, I can’t marry a dead person! What about you?” Charles whined.

“As I see it, I’m the least of your problems right now. Go tell your loverboy that you can’t marry him, won’t that solve the problem?” Crystal waved her hands back at him. “You’re such a wuss about the weirdest things sometimes.”

“Why are you so normal about this?” Charles complained. It wasn’t fair for her to be so rational when Charles’ whole world had been turned on its head.

“Because I’ve been talking to my dead girlfriend every day since last May,” she shot back. “Why would you think I go to the graveyard so often?”

“I don’t know, to mourn?” Charles stared at her in disbelief.

Crystal stood up with a sigh and started going over her piles of clothes, the cover still wrapped around her.

“I haven’t told you yet, but I’m kind of a medium. A psychic. I can see the dead and talk to them, with some powers of my own,” she talked casually, looking for something to wear, when she suddenly stopped mid sentence.

“Charles,” she whipped around. “Does the ghost groom wear a white suit and is all bloody and stuff?”

Charles nodded, dumbfounded. This was not how he’d thought this conversation would go. He’d been prepared for a lot of convincing but now he had to try to keep up.

“That’s Edwin! You got married to Edwin?!” Crystal gaped at him. “Where did you find him?!”

“In the forest..?” Charles offered helplessly. He hadn’t exactly mapped out the location.

“That’s great,” Crystal groaned. “Hold on to that thought. First, we’re going to go talk to Niko.”

Charles submitted to his fate of following Crystal without asking anymore questions, since she seemed to have a better handle of things at the moment.

Crystal threw on her beige wrap-around jacket and they sneaked out, half-jogging towards the cemetery.

“We’ve been trying to find Edwin’s place of burial for months now. Just to give him a decent resting place, maybe help him move on. He deserves that much,” Crystal explained.

“When you say “we”, you mean you and Niko?” Charles confirmed. “How exactly do you ‘talk’ with her?”

“Just wait and let me do my thing. Then we can ask her just what’s going on down in the Underworld.”

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Rewrite Ideas for Lila Rossi

I know there’s been a lot of criticism about Lila’s lies and how Marinette’s friends and other people trust Lila’s word over hers, especially Alya her best friend and journalist. What if Lila wasn’t just more careful with her lies(telling more believable lies with fake proof or atleast have benefit of the doubt, more cautious about threats and frame ups), but instead of telling negative lies about someone people should know better about, she instead uses already known truths against them. Does still manipulate certain things but also make those are unto her or see as a threat, dig their own graves, expose their own issues.  Ex, Like how Lila made Aya think the issue was just Marinette having a crush on Adrien and being jealous.

I think it would’ve worked more if Lila actually played into this more. Not just using Marinette’s crush on Adrien but her and the other’s biggest flaws(overthinking things, insecurity, digging herself deeper into her problems, etc) Using their issues and past mistakes to manipulate things in her benefit or atleast make people consider past issues that would make people have to also consider.

Marinette if she decided to just come out and say why she doesn’t trust Lila when she comes back as a new classmate, similar to when she talked to Alya and Nino.

Lila-I really dont get where all this skepticism’s coming from. I was only here one day and I don’t think we even got to meet, let alone talk, so how could you know anything I did-

Marinette-BECAUSE I FOLLOWED YOU!

Class-What!?

Lila-I’m sorry, what?😈

Marinette-I said I…oh boy. Realizes how bad that sounds and can’t really tell them the stuff she’d have to known as Ladybug.

Adrien-Wait I don’t get it, why follow us?

Class knowing Marinette’s huge crush on Adrien and the crazy things she has done involving him-…nervous coughs.

Ayla who also knows this and who Marinette told she was gonna follow them-Oh boy.

Later

Ayla-Listen Lila I’m really sorry, I should’ve stopped her. Are you gonna bring this up with the teachers?

Lila- Hey, don’t worry about it. I mean you’re her friend, not her mom, it’s not your responsibility to watch what she’s up to. I’m just happy this was simply because she likes Adrien and not because she really thinks I’m some “evil manipulative mastermind”, this doesn’t feel like anything I need to involve a teacher with, not like anyone got really hurt. I’ll be honest I have a problem sometimes being fully honest, I may exaggerate or tell a few white lies just simply to fit in, I’m not trying to hurt anyone. But seriously, we've only hung out like only a few times, he really is just a friend to me at this point. I’m sorry for all the trouble.

Alya- Don’t worry about it, honestly this isn’t really ur fault.

Lila-Well thanks and seriously, this isn’t really your fault either. Alya- Thank you. Still, maybe I should’ve been more concerned.

Lila- I mean these things happen, We’re teens, sometimes we might let our hormones get the better of us but I doubt this stuff happen all the time, she seems like a good person. Besides if she did do something that really crossed the line, as her best friend, I’m sure you def would call her out or atleast make it clear u don’t support it, right?

Ayla-…

Lila-Do you think I should talk to Marinette?

Alya- No, no don’t worry about that. Maybe I should though.

Lila-Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. she’d probably listen better to a friend anyway 😈

and doesn’t just do this kinda stuff with Marinette but can pit the whole class against eachother If she plays the cards right, full on Mean Girls Watch The World Burn🔥🔥🔥. All while, looking completely inconspicuous and whatever she could’ve done would be seen as simply indirect or unintentional and certainly no way she could’ve known it would lead to such an outcome…right?

Lila-As such a great designer Marinette, I’d figure you’d understand that rather try to make something completely new, better to make the best out of the materials you already have! And there is just so much to work with, especially with you😈

And rather Marinette not trying to expose her because of Adrien's advice but rather her own self doubt. “What if I really am just jealous and overthinking this whole thing”, “I technically was in the wrong first for following them, granted I had to for the book but I didn’t know that at first”, “what if I make things worse and Alya…won’t be my friend anymore”…”she’s probably right, maybe Lila’s just harmless and it really is all in my head”…”maybe it is just me”.

I just like antagonists who make the protagonists consider their own moral character and actions, if they’re really as good as they think they are. Even if they’re manipulative liars who are trying to be dishonest, there’s always that certain part of what they say that can’t be fully brushed off as entirely wrong, sometimes even being the ones to call out the protagonists’s less moral actions and mistakes.  And I think Lila could’ve really had that sort of potential with Marinette. For better or for worse, her impact could make Marinette reflect on herself.

Lila-You’re the type of person who sees themselves as the hero in their own story and that everything you do is right, but truth is you can just as easily be the villain! You think my lies are bad? Half of what I say is just calling you out on your own mistakes. You just can’t handle the TRUTH!😈

what do u think? How’d u wanna rewrite Lila? I’d love to know💖

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

🪷 - fav/least fav ship: give me a fandom - Scream, Criminal Minds, stranger things

Congratulations again 👏🥳

thank you so much!!

scream:

fav ship: billy and stu

they’re so perfect together. i love their dynamic, and how utterly crazy they are when they’re together. i wholeheartedly believe they were together in the movie. i mean just look at how stu looks at billy. they were in love, case in point.

least fav ship: amber and richie

i feel like this needs no explanation, but i shall talk about it anyways. richie is an adult. amber is in high school. even if she’s eighteen, richie is at least five years older than her, if not more. that’s disgusting and disturbing and i hate richie so fucking much. even if amber was already crazy, he still manipulated and groomed her, which is not okay.

criminal minds:

fav ship: jj and will

i love these two together so much. i love how much will helps to ground jj, and their bond is just so precious. i love them together and i will always love them together, they’re just so perfect for each other.

least fav ship: morgan and garcia

okay, so i love these two together, but strictly platonically. they have the best character dynamic in the show, and i love these two together so much, but only as best friends. i don’t really understand why people would ship them romantically, specifically because the basis of their relationship is platonic. they’re definitely my favorite ship friend wise, but just not romantically like at all.

stranger things:

fav ship: steve and eddie

i love steve and eddie together. they have such a unique dynamic and a shared parenthood over the kids, especially dustin. the way they look at each other, the tension between them is there. they would just be so cute together, and if eddie didn’t die, i wholeheartedly believe they would’ve ended up together, with dustin probably being the one to make them realize their feelings for each other.

least fav ship: mike and eleven

i feel like a lot of people will disagree with me on this, but i hate mike and eleven together. in seasons one and two, they were great. it was cute and heartwarming and they just seemed like they fit. but then we have mileven in seasons three and four. the relationship gets hella toxic, and mike is weirdly controlling and possessive. it just doesn’t work at all anymore. i feel like they should’ve stayed broken up after el dumped him in season three, and i think the only reason they were pushed back together is because of the diehard mileven shippers who would’ve went ballistic if they stayed broken up.

[steve0discusses]

Ep 46 Pt 2: Seto is Sad Now

I just want to take the time to fully appreciate Seto and Yami on the back of this horse.

You can’t tell me that the image alone of them on horse back where Seto is just on the back like it’s a motorcycle or something? Two cousins trying not to be weird about this mode of transportation while the tall one sits in the tiny seat?

 (which by the way, I didn’t realize it at the time, but uh my condolences to the shippers of Yami and Seto, they are...damn! They sure are cousins, aren’t they? Like a reverse Sailor Uranus/Sailor Neptune situation right here. Well, you still got modern Seto, but...sooo many lost fanfics out there, I’m sure, who were...probably not happy with this revelation.)

So I had to look this up because I’m not a horse girl, regrettably, I do not know enough about horses to know if two grown men can fit on the back of a horse without busting that horse’s spine in half. But, what I found out is: you don’t do this to a horse. I mean you can, but you shouldn’t.

Thing is...Yami is technically a kid in size, if memory serves, Yugi is still less than 100 lbs.

Maybe this horse is OK? this horse they occasionally use to skate down mountainsides? It’s not a real horse anyway, and honestly, this whole idea of the two on a horse is very funny to me so who cares.

(read more under the cut)

Also speaking of scientifically incorrect things in Yugioh, this was also very funny,

FAR BE IT FROM ME to get all technical and make some weird youtube video about all the historical inaccuracies in TV shows (which damn, I sure do hate those videos) but I can still laugh at it when it happens.

Bro just told me “bold of you to trust Google” and he’s correct. For all we know some AI just lied to me just now, so if you know some deep lore about trebuchets don’t be afraid to speak up.

Their horse pulls up to the line of out of touch trebuchets and warriors flanking the city, where we reunite as a cast minus Karim.

Yami then dumps this on me and it was so outlandish I could not tell if this was canon to the manga/original translation or if the dub decided this would be OK to do.

Just let the man die! He divorced his wife on horseback and then did not raise Seto, he abandoned this boy to kill thousands of people, just let Aknadin freakin die. Please, Yami, this is not up for debate, Yami. Let Aknadin freakin die he hella deserves it.

Agh, Dartz all over again, I swear this show didn’t used to feel the need to redeem it’s villains, youknow? Or maybe it was always like this but I forgot because of freakin long covid wiping a year of my life, I don’t freaking know. But if/when Aknadin comes back I genuinely can’t see how he and Seto could ever fix their relationship on this planet Earth.

Anyway, speaking of being tired beyond your ability, Yami remembers just how many fireballs he took to the chest today and decides to just keel over. Good thing he didn’t do this on the back of the horse.

Relatable, honestly, this is what I do nowadays when I have to stand too long because I decided to cook 2 things instead of 1. Yami just has long covid, he’ll be fine. Just find a couch and do a big sittie, Yami.

Like damn, Yami, maybe should’ve let Seto at least drive the horse?

And so the trebuchets fire off with all this animation that a bunch of people looked at, and after them, these scenes passed over like 100 more people’s hands, and no one at any point said “yo they used sleds instead of wheels in Egyptian sands, right?” and they were...like they were from the wrong anime really, but please admire the wings on these “trebuchets”

freakin nerf guns made out of logs hahaha.

Anyway, Bakura noticed.

Sad Seto starts botching it so poorly that it, in fact, triggers the end of the world.

Could’ve been Isis commanding the troops. Or Grandpa. Or Shad- no wait, no actually...

...probably shouldn’t be Shada.

But I think that Isis would not have needed that necklace to know throwing logs at the enemy would not work. Especially since this particular enemy is like...all log.

Thanks for the America shout-out Yugioh, my warm and fuzzy patriotic vibes go off in my heart every time I see lady liberty in an apocalyptic setting, not gonna lie.

I make fun, but it really did take Yami a while to figure out what the hell Bakura was implying here.

Lets admire the guy in the very back who looks like he just lost his glasses so he’s just gonna sit it out directly on the ground.

I will not revise the death count. They died. They died right in front of me. This is clearly a ghost.

They’re just back now. They’ve done this before where they magically come back to life, it’s never explained, and I’m used to it. Rex and Weevil are god tier and it’s never ever explained. I’m ready for them to die again every time I see them on this show. But this show will never let go of these bastards because like...well I don’t know, really, but it feels like the show runners REALLY like these two and I’ll let them have their comfort OCs.

LISTEN.

So I know I was going to put a towel on this boy’s enormous smiling dong, but it would, in fact, make it more obscene to put the towel on him in this particular scene than to go without the towel.

And yes, it did grow larger than the last time we saw it, and no... I don’t think we should analyze that.

Meanwhile we have run out of useless logs and their out of place trebuchets.

Blue Eyes just sitting on the bleachers being like “no dawg, it’s fine! I’m fine, we’re all fine!”

And then we uh, killed Shadi.

It happened so quickly I think the dub actually removed a scene where he gets hit. Like suddenly Yami’s in danger, then it cuts away, and then Shadi is just on the ground like “you get em buddy” and he kicks it.

What an unceremonious way for this creep to die.

And of all the times! He has been threatening to die this entire season! And I guess it’s better than getting bricked in the head by Aknadin, but still...a lightning bolt huh?

And in case you were like “so why is he this weird ghost that haunts us 5000 years later?” That’s apparently answered in like the movie, from what bro tells me. I forget which. I want to say it’s Dark Side of Dimensions, that movie I keep threatening to watch. He hasn’t seen it either, he doesn’t know.

Anyway, we made it through another episode, and yes, it was Shadi who died.

I cannot believe how long Grandpa has held out this season, can you? I can’t believe it at all.

We’ll catch up again next episode, where...it feels like this is the finale guys. Wow. We’ve come so far. And again, I wish I was in a better state to write, because I feel like I used to be a lot more in depth and just...more analytical. 

But really, this season is just pretty freaking weird. Like there is stuff to analyze here. There are things to get out of it. But I spend so long being like “and then this weird thing happened, and that weird thing happened” that I’m still just stringing together the nonsense and I’m not really appreciating the forest for the trees.

But I’m sure those things will come to me in time, if they really are that important to glean from this season, even if it may be in some later episode or some sort of post-season essay I feel like writing (I probably won’t). But until then, we’ll just admire the dickface they convinced 4kids to put on TV.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[cgarttrailsandtails]

Something I noticed in sams today:

Yesterday’s episode, Sun is going through a LOT. I realized that this is not just because he killed Nexus, no. That’s not exactly what’s gotten him this upset. Here’s what really did:

(!Rant incoming!)

Sun still blames himself for (O) Moon dying in the first place, because he blew up the magic that was the only way for Moon to get out safely. Now, he’s blown up Nexus, effectively killing him in sorta the same way, and with magic again too. He’s blaming himself for both of his brothers dying, even if neither of them treated him very well in the end (O. Moon’s abuse and Nexus just being an evil asshole).

The thing is, it isn’t really his fault either time. Moon could’ve gotten out, it just would’ve killed KC (who died later anyway but uh let’s not give a shit abut that rn). And Ruin revealed in yesterday’s eaps episode that he put a chip in Nexus that would overflow him with positive star power if it was hit. Sun didn’t really kill either of them, but because they both died right after he blew something (or someone) up with magic, he blames himself fully. That’s it. That’s why he’s so upset.

Now, a lot of people are yelling about Moon, Monty, and Lunar’s reactions, too. Ima say what I think about that as well.

Let’s start with Monty. We all know the gator is an asshole, but he is trying to be better. Not to say it’s working, but still. Anyway, to the point. He isn’t close to Sun like he is to Moon. When Moon was broken from what Nexus had done (what with making him relive the kids he killed), Monty stepped in and helped, because they’re best friends. Sun and Monty barely talk. They are not even really friends, just acquaintances at best. So would it make sense for Monty to care like they did when Moon was going through it? Nope. Now, they should’ve at least shown SOME sympathy, I agree with that, but it’s not required for them. The two aren’t friends. They barely know each other.

Onto Lunar. This one was surprising to say the least. Lunar shoulda understood and been better about it, but their original reaction to Sun being upset was just not caring. I get they aren’t as close to Sun, but it still doesn’t fit. HOWEVER. I think they were honestly more in shock than anything else even if they didn’t show it, because after they’d had a bit to process, we see in the laes video that they actually do seem more concerned for Sun along with Earth, and actually is surprised when Sun asks them to take care of Dazzle for him. They still probably should’ve cared more at the start, but this is a reasonable explanation for why they didn’t.

And finally, Moon. Oh boy. Moon. So Moon kinda just jumped directly into protecting his family by finding and getting rid of Dark Sun, instead of caring about how his brother was doing first. I think I know why though. First of all, Moon has never been good with emotions on his own, much less helping people with them. Yes, they did help Sun when he found out about Evelyn being Dazzle, and they did do good with that. But here’s the thing. He thinks he can’t. He thinks that he’s so terrible with dealing with emotions, and he thinks if he talks to Sun about this, he’ll just make it worse. Remember: when Sun was trying to go kill Eclipse, Moon tried to get through to him, but they failed because Sun didn’t want to listen. And they kinda made it worse because they trapped him in a magical box when they couldn’t get him to see reason. (I think that’s the timeline, idk it’s been a while). So Moon thinks they’ll just fuck everything up again and that they should just do “what they’re good at” and track down the threat of Dark Sun. They aren’t trying because they think that Sun would be better off if they stayed away. He’s wrong of course, but that’s besides the point. In other words, Moon doesn’t think he can help so he’d rather go hurt himself trying to find a practical ghost instead of trying and possibly messing things up more. Yes, it’s wrong. But think about it from his perspective. If you had hurt your brother, the one person you care about more than anything, in many more ways than one, and if you had failed so many times to make him feel better about something, why in the world would you try again? Especially if you thought the only thing you were good for was building things. If you thought you’d only mess up anything else you did. Would you try again?

Don’t lie and say you would, because logic like that doesn’t work when emotions are in play. The point is, yeah everyone here could’ve handled it better and helped Sun like Solar has done/tried to do. But you gotta remember that we have a third person pov, and the characters don’t. And they have feelings too, sometimes ones that even WE don’t see. Stop taking everything with a grain of salt, and just try to enjoy the show. It’s a YouTube series, not a five-star production. Anyway, have a good day or night, and I’ll get back to silly stuff now.

Me:

[bybdolan]

As promised/threatened/announced, I compiled some of my favorite and least favorite metaphors/images/turns of phrases/everything that kind of falls under this category on Midnights and explained why they work for me and why they don’t. Enjoy! (Bevor we begin: @whiskeyswifty put together some of her least favorite metaphors on the album here and there probably will be some doubling. Points were made!)

FAVORITE

“From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes.” – What a genius way to signify the passage of time! Not only does it have a strong sensual element (the feeling of water on your skin, the smell and sound of a crackling fireplace), it also implies a certain loss of virility and innocence through going from an image usually associated to childhood to the scorched, burned wood of a fireplace. LOVE.

“The rust that grew between telephones.” – A little gem on a song I really dislike otherwise. It fits the color scheme of the song (very obviously the writing exercise Taylor set herself with it: “write about things that are red that you associate with the relationship” – not a bad approach per se but often led to weird moments on Midnights) and immediately communicates a loss of contact in a very sad, destructive way.

“I’m a monster on the hill. Too big to hang out, slowly lurching towards your favorite city. Pierced through the heart but never killed.” – LISTEN! I absolutely love this line because the idea of her as this large, scary being is thought through and expanded upon in a way that is so effective in evoking a very specific mental image in your mind. I can clearly visualize  this creature on all fours crawling towards a skyline or something 1930s-monster-movie like that. I also like this because it goes into this slight horror element that pops up at certain points on the album but is never all that realized and tbh… I want gore!

“Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve. I think it’s time to teach some lessons!” – again: a very solidly thought out use of school imagery that is gleefully condescending.

“I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails, and the liquor in our cocktails.“ – Great line in a song I never listen to lol. It is, again, kind of sensual (speaks to the feeling of wind on your skin, makes you think of the sea; there is the slight burn of alcohol) and just makes you think of freedom and fun and life being easy going, which is exactly what she is describing here.

“High Infidelity” – one of her BEST titles and arguably my favorite “writing exercise” song concept because wheeew! I know she was happy when she came up with that and rightfully so! Genius wordplay.

“And maybe it's the past that's talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did.” – kind of using this as a stand in for the entire song because I find the war metaphor to work very well as a whole (although I carry sliiight issue with it from a personal standpoint, given that it feels very clearly connected to WWI instead of just ~a war~ and it’s a peculiar choice). It’s a very tight sing imagery-wise because every lyric connects back to the main theme in a way that also makes it makes sense on an individual level. I picked this lyric specifically because it reminds me a favorite song where the singer describes his duties yelling at him from beneath the floor but he can’t hear because he is hanging out with his favorite person. I like personifications like that, and the suggestion that these influences are outside of ourselves, rather than inside.

“The tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind.” – Putting this one directly behind The Great War because a) crypt parallel and b) Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve also works sooo well as a whole because the imagery is so tight and is utilized perfectly. One of her strongest work ever in that regard, because it adds a very specific layer to the story being told without ever outright saying it.

[the entire chorus of Karma] – it’s soooo fun and tongue in cheek and every single comparison she does works so well to me. “Karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter” is so good as well. The song genuinely has some very good metaphorical work.

LEAST FAVORITE

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain.” / “All of me changed like midnight.” – I think my main issue with this song is also the underlying issue I have with all of my least favorite imagery moments on the album: It feels like they were forcefully included to fit the theme of the song or album, without actually thinking about how they work by themselves. Midnight rain as a concept is so broad that the lyric describing it feel weak? I suppose it is meant to signify that she is dark and moody, but it ends up feeling a bit basic (as weather metaphors sometimes do). And the idea of “changed like midnight” just escapes me because, apart from the striking of the clock in a New Year’s Eve or Cinderella way, I feel like midnights are not commonly associated with change. I get where she is coming from, but it feels so so flat to me. However, this is also the lyric I am willing to give grace considering it might simply. Idk. Go over my head.

“But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet.” – Hands down my least favorite lyric on the entire album (and one of my least favorite lyrics of all time). Again: I get the idea, but the mental image this puts into my head is just incredibly goofy. Joe Alwyn with big ol’ round cartoon eyes. Was somebody scrambling for a lyric that matched the cosmic imagery of the song but already blew “starry eyes” and “eyes full of stars” on two different songs? Mh? “Flying saucers” as an object and a word combo simply are not romantic to me. Couldn’t we at least have used spaceship to signify that he feels out of this world? Idk man

“Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man.” – Do I have to say anything about it? By itself it would be okay I guess but using internet speech from 2014 as an opening line to a song is. A choice. Also… I thought we didn’t dress for men (or women for that matter)? Why are u then thinking about him while doing your makeup, babygirl?

“You know how scared I am of elevators, never trust it if it rises fast.” – overdone! This is not a bad metaphor per se but it sure is a familiar one and IMMEDIATELY leaves your brain. Never use a metaphor/an image you have heard before, or whatever George Orwell said. (Great writing advice!)

“Spider boy, king of thieves, weave your little webs of opacity.” – Another one of those lines where you can feel the forced concept. I know somebody was super happy with “Spider boy” and then went looking for something that fit. “Weave your little webs of opacity” is SO clunky and heavy handed! I do like “my pennies made your crown” though.

“Sit quiet by my side in the shade, and not the kind that's thrown, I mean the kind under where a tree has grown.” – Bad. Very unsuccessful way of incorporating online lingo, and the “having to explain yourself” thing through the “I mean” is sooo… scrap it. I like the tree idea though, having grown something together, nurturing the relationship like a plant, etc.

“Freedom felt like summer then on the coast, but now the sun burns my heart, and the sand hurts my feelings.” – ok including this with a caveat: I think this actually is a good metaphor. Evocative, sensual, well thought out. However! I personally think “the sand hurts my feelings” sounds goofy and I think this line also would have worked had we stuck to the “real” nature impressions. Sun burning skin, sand getting into every crevice. Something like that. I think it would have communicated the idea equally well.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Having looked at a very specific part of the album like this, I wonder about the “writing exercise” thing she mentioned on the Graham Norton show. Multiple people have said that the concept album idea does not work for them, and I think I personally agree, but furthermore, Taylor developing entire songs about a word or a specific image appears to be pretty hit or miss, since we sometimes end up with these forced lyrics where you can just tell they needed that line and wondered how to make it fit with the rest of the song instead of having it come naturally. That said: as the good examples illustrate, Taylor is a capable writer and knows what she is doing.

[sepublic]

            In all this discussion of Shogaken and the Skull Kin’s backstory, there does lie the question of how all this information is revealed and conveyed within the story itself, at what rate, which parts first, etc.

         Right now, I’m working with the idea of the Skull Kin making their debut via the Grisnirs, who start off the plot as rowdy, seemingly human raiders who attack a place and spur our protagonists into action. They are led by Whiplash, AKA Will Lasher, brother of Trexdis. As the battle progresses, these raiders get up from injuries that should’ve killed them, and just keep going like they don’t feel a thing. Their true, skeletal nature isn’t revealed until later, but it is foreshadowed through little odd details, like with the villains in the first Pirates of the Caribbean film.

         I’m thinking that there will be a subplot involving a character named Esther, who is someone I never expected to bring back after all these years; Yet I realize her original storyline and purpose fits well for this new one here. Esther is a newly-deceased soul, perhaps a victim of one of these uncanny raiders, and we follow her experiences as she’s reborn in Shogaken’s domain. We see through her eyes what newly-inducted Skull Kin go through, what they learn, etc.

         By this point, most Skull Kin are unaware of and/or have forgotten the story that led them there; Some believe this is Purgatory, Limbo, Hell, whatever you want to call it, and Shogaken is the Devil. As Esther is roped into the daily routine of Skull Kin afterlife, she joins an odd, small friend group. Each of these more experienced Skull Kin represent different view points and attitudes regarding being a Skull Kin.

So one of them, for example, is actually a little grateful towards Shogaken for the new body and second chance, arguing some of his methods to be misunderstood, even if they recognize he’s evil in plenty of other ways. Another hates this experience totally, they feel deprived of human sensation and feeling, and regard Shogaken as only a cruel tyrant; Another believes him to be a figure of a greater will, crafted to punish people like them.

         Esther is learning bit by bit with the audience, and we also cut back to the A-plot with our main protagonists as they clash with the Grisnirs, whose undead state becomes more and more obvious with how their bones are exposed and their flesh decays and putrefies, turning them into zombies. At one point, Whiplash pulls down his collar to find a bunch of maggots festering in a wound, and simply… leaves them be, unaffected. His rotting body in particular is inhabited by a lot of insects and other scavenging critters, whom he has no quarrel with; It’s a fun holdover detail from an earlier iteration of his character that I’m delighted managed to make its way here in a way that fits the story better, like Esther.

         By this point, the audience is probably picking up on the connection between these undead Grisnirs and the Skull Kin that Esther has joined; And it’s confirmed when Esther learns that Shogaken has recently been making a campaign to seize the world of the living, and has sent these Grisnir agents, wrapped in temporary flesh, to infiltrate the mortals. The Grisnirs represent the hope for a return to home, to actual living, but it’s hollow… But who knows?

         A Wayvren is alluded to; Some Skull Kin mention to Esther that nobody can challenge Shogaken, save for somebody named Wayvren. They also mention that it’s because of Wayvren that Shogaken has begun this Grisnir project, but the language is left purposefully vague. This is to set up a probably halfway twist that there are two Wayvrens; Siblings sharing a common surname. The Wayvren that the Skull Kin speak of is a separate individual from the Wayvren our main protagonists are called to action by.

         Our main protagonists come across other varieties of Grisnir; Human souls placed into animal skeletons, who are then given animal flesh. These Grisnirs are very quickly identified by actual animals, who can just naturally tell that something is off about these impersonators. There are some reports of roadkill that simply get up after being hit, undeterred by whatever gaping wounds they’ve received…

         Eventually the flesh is fully stripped away, Terminator-style, to reveal the Grisnirs in their true skeletal glory. Our main protagonists fight them, and are then introduced to other Skull Kin not intended to mimic actual living beings; So the more traditional kind that inhabit Shogaken’s domain, these unique chimera conglomerates of made-up bone. We transition from ‘mundane’ human skeletons into animal ones, and finally these more fantastical creations who aren’t even trying to blend in.

         This eventually converges during a big, climactic battle in the Shining Void (not THE final battle, which occurs on Shogaken’s home turf), during which Shogaken rallies his Skull Kin troops for a big siege. All Grisnir agents are instructed to meet up and provide support, shedding their flesh disguises because Shogaken is tired of hiding his work from the masses, it’s time for everyone to see them in their full skeletal glory, and feel fear and awe when they win. So there’s animal skeletons, human skeletons, and then Shogaken’s weirder designs, all coming together; Familiar imagery made morbid with their skeletal replacements, and then stuff for which there is no original to replace.

         Because this siege is a big push, Shogaken even relents on temporarily ‘forgiving’ the Skull Kin he’s left buried in his domain, digging them up so they can add to his troops’ numbers. Skull Kin meant to be relegated to workers, not necessarily trusted to enforce his will in the land of the living, are also recruited in this big and important exception. The siege is the attempt to seize whatever powerful artifacts the characters have been fighting over, and once one party has all of them together, they’ll have the power to do anything; At which point, Shogaken will no longer need to hide his Skull Kin, hence the willingness to show off, because once this battle is over, the Skull Kin will no longer need disguises, and can take back their place from the living who have succeeded them. Shogaken needs every bone he can muster, ASAP.

         Of course, the Grisnirs provide plenty of foreshadowing and setup for Esther’s revelation of Shogaken’s past; The Grisnirs are just the repurposed holdover of Shogaken’s original function. He was supposed to make people new bodies from scratch, improved upon in every degree, before transferring their souls to these bodies; But the flesh decayed and the only part that remained was the bone, made of orichalcum instead. From lost journal entries, to a forgotten Skull Kin who was one of Shogaken’s original failed patients, Esther puts together the truth. This is not some divine punishment, but the failed manmade effort to provide healing, restoration, and second chances to others.

         I imagine Esther tries to appeal to Shogaken, tries to be more sympathetic knowing his backstory; But a lot of victims put in all of the effort into understanding their abusers and accommodating them, only to be met with more abuse. There’s nothing Esther can really do to defy Shogaken, not directly... Maybe she and her friends are also enlisted in Shogaken’s big siege in the Shining Void, before returning to the Spirit Currents somewhat victorious.

         When our main protagonists eventually enter Shogaken’s domain and defeat him, Esther acts as a leader of sorts to rally her fellow Skull Kin into breaking Shogaken’s cycle, refusing to obey their abuser in his weakened state. The storylines converge as Esther and the Skull Kin make a shaky peace with the main protagonists, and Esther has hope that maybe this place’s original purpose can still be salvaged, after all.

         I’m thinking that the term ‘Grisnir’ originated in Shogaken’s advertising for his failed miracle treatment; It was called the Grisnir cure, the Grisnir program, possibly named after his hometown that supported and molded him. By modern times, the original hope and meaning behind the name is forgotten, its history replaced with the context of Shogaken’s attempted conquest of the mortal realm from within.

         The Skull Kin aren’t just skeletons in an undead context; They were originally skeletons in a medical context. Like the models, images, and X-rays you see in a doctor’s clinic, because that’s what they were originally made for, as a type of treatment. Shogaken is a failed surgeon, and I’ll probably incorporate some doctor and hospital aesthetics into the Skull Kin here or there, in order to further foreshadow the reveal. Maybe I’ll use shades of blue found in clinics and surgeon scrubs as a secondary tone for Skull Kin aesthetics, while the translucent orange found in pill bottles can be repurposed for their glowing eyes.

         By contrast, Wayvren the Fallen, the one who allies with Shogaken and strong-arms him at multiple points, isn’t bone; They’re meant to resemble, in their incomplete form, the nervous system, as an opposing counterpart to the skeletal Shogaken. Two antagonist sides of the coin. So when Wayvren combines with the skeletal, orichalcum base they commissioned from Shogaken, it’s like they become more complete, and don’t really need him anymore, which is proven with how Wayvren sets up Shogaken for failure and ditches him once their true objective is achieved at the end of this arc. Wayvren’s ghostly appearance, combined with the skeleton visible beneath the translucence, is meant to invoke x-ray diagrams; And in the next arc, their ‘skin’ properly forms as they fully recover from their sibling’s defeat to achieve their true potential. 

That further distances Wayvren the Fallen from Shogaken’s medical and undead aesthetic so they can step into place as a front-and-center antagonist, who needn’t hide behind another party who functions as the more forward ‘face’ for them. After operating in the shadows while someone louder distracts the protagonists, now Wayvren can step into the spotlight and make it clear that it’s THEIR goals and plans that are running the show.

[shrinkthisviolet]

Firstly thank you so much for answering my ask - secondly, I have seen you reblog posts about how CK's 'violence is the answer' is a slap in the face to what the movies (and even the show, at first) was trying to say, but I would love to know more about your thoughts about how S5 should've ended, becausing Daniel refusing to fight would've been...amazing to see, tbh.

Of course! Thanks for asking 💞

Yeah, the show kinda…lost the plot after a while. I’m not totally sure when, but I think it might’ve been s3, when Eagle Fang was formed. They kinda…started treating it as “Cobra Kai done right”, and starting treating Miyagi-Do as the “peace-at-all-costs” dojo (really, it had kinda been doing that a little bit since s1, but s3 is when they stopped hiding it iirc). Cobra Kai was…I guess just evil because it was Kreese running it?? Not because the whole mentality of “strike first, strike hard, no mercy” was flawed?? We had three movies showing why that was bad, and the show seemed to understand it at first, but then…at some point, they either forgot or got caught up in the spectacle. (Probably the latter, seeing as s3 was Netflix’s first season in charge of CK. Or both)

As for how the s5 should’ve ended (the finale episode)...well:

All else being the same, the s5 finale isn’t that bad for the most part. Like, there’s definitely a lot of fighting going on in the finale, but if I was just changing this episode, I wouldn’t change that—because that’s in keeping with how the show’s been up to that point. The teens getting into fights and resolving their problems that way…well, no one’s really taught them better. Johnny hasn’t really done the work of deconstructing the Cobra Kai creed and realizing why it sucks (and as mentioned, he’s regressed hard, so it’ll take way more work to get him back to that point), so sure, him punching and kicking everyone makes sense too. I don’t totally remember how the Chozen vs Silver fight ends, so I don’t know if I’d change it—their fight felt more like a duel, and it is one of the things I liked (I liked their dynamic in general tbh), so maybe I’d keep it.

But where it gets most egregious is Daniel vs Silver. The rest of it, I can look past for various reasons, but this final confrontation between Daniel and Silver has just always sat wrong with me in a way I wasn’t able to describe until...yesterday, really, when I answered your ask.

Like, this is the man who traumatized Daniel in KK3 so much that he’s haunted by it even years later! The man who incited Daniel to violence, who still does in s5! He’s in Daniel’s head and he knows it!

You can’t tell me he wasn’t vindictively pleased that Daniel used violence to take him down in the end. Even to the last, he’s able to incite violence in Daniel...that’s gotta make him at least a little smug.

Contrast that with KK1, Miyagi vs Kreese. Remember that Kreese hates Mr. Miyagi even years later…why? Because Mr. Miyagi didn’t just beat him—he humiliated him, by showing him the one thing Kreese could never understand: mercy. Kreese ended up defeating himself, all because Mr. Miyagi refused to fight him head-on.

That’s pacifism. That’s refusing a fight, no matter how much the other person wants it…not because you’re afraid, or scared of fighting violently, but because you know there’s no point to it. You know this is worse for them.

(Think of ATLA’s ending. Aang removing Ozai’s bending instead of killing him—he doesn’t want Ozai to force him to betray his culture, to take the last of the Air Nomads from him…and he also knows that it’s worse for Ozai to live with the consequences, to watch his empire crumble. It’s a pacifist ending, and it’s also the one that fits the best. And Aang is certainly not a coward, is he? Of course not!)

So back to s5’s ending. I don’t remember if Silver baits Daniel into a fight, but whether he does or not, Daniel refuses to fight him. Or maybe he accepts and just…tricks Silver into hurting himself, and we get flashbacks intercutting this fight with Miyagi vs Kreese. We show that parallel. And then, at the end, Daniel honks his nose.

Silver is, of course, pissed. How dare Daniel?! He takes the cowards’ way out yet again?! Does he think Silver can be held behind bars forever—he’ll get out one day, and he’ll come for Daniel and everyone he loves!

He’s just straight-up losing it. And then...Amanda smiles at him and shows him a recording device. (Amanda punched Kreese in s3, and now she gets to take Silver down in s5. This also wraps up the plotline where Silver was able to manipulate her and turn her against Daniel—no more. She’s wise to Silver’s tricks now. He loses)

He’s done for. He’s arrested and put away for life. No contacts of Silver’s can help now, and everyone in the Valley eagerly watches every second of the trial.

Like…I get the appeal of Silver being “hoisted by his own petard”, but Daniel beating him with the Quicksilver Method…that being the last triumphant moment in s5…idk. It sits poorly with me. It’s way more satisfying for him to follow Mr. Miyagi’s example and choose pacifism—not “all offensive fighting is terrible and should never be done”, but “I have nothing to prove to you, I won’t fight you, because it will do neither of us any good. I win, and you can’t make me your violent puppet anymore.” Kinda like in Captain Marvel!

It just feels more thematically closed, if that makes sense. Like a satisfying resolution of a theme. Daniel has spent the whole show trying to be like Mr. Miyagi and doing it wrong...but now, now he does it right. Now he finds his balance, his center. That, to me, is a much better ending.

Now ofc, if we’re talking about rewriting the whole show, there would be so much I’d change. But you’ll see that unfold in the CK AU, once I get through the movies and back to the show! It doubles as a fix-it/rewrite in a lot of ways for the show, even though I haven’t really talked much about that 😂 mostly because talking too much about that right now would involve spoiling!

[diaryofanormalkid]

Irritating coworker rant. 🚩

Today I worked with one of my non-regular coworkers. She was getting on my last nerve. She’s had her shady moments, but today was the day she really showed her true colours.

Let’s start off with, she kept using my tissue box on MY side of my wicket without asking, and reaching over into my space without giving me a heads up, I know that seems small…

But hey, normally she warns me or asks if she wants to use them because I sneeze a lot and my allergies make me have to blow my noise quite frequently. So she knows I need those.

Also, when a hand suddenly comes closer to my face than I’m comfortable with, it’s polite to probably say something or at least ask before just snatching bare tissues, and all day at that too.

Another thing was she bought coffee for herself and my other coworker and didn’t bother to get me anything or even ask. Even when I do and treat them all the time. She made sure I saw too.

Walked right past me hovering around with her coffee as if to show it off to me. I looked dead at her and moved on as if I didn’t clock what’s she’s doing bc why give her a reaction.

I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of her seeing I was upset, frustrated or non-included for not getting a coffee. I can certainly afford my own coffee, thank you very much.

But she wasn’t considerate enough to ask me, so I kept it pushing. I see how it is. I was offended, but hey I don’t care enough about the 🚩 to let her get to me for something so small.

It’s all the things she does that add up that make me never want to speak to her ever again in my life. But hey, gotta live with her since she’s my coworker. I’ll have to be civil.

Something that also got on my nerves was when she commented on my outfit? Insinuating what exactly? I should’ve asked her to clarify specifically what she meant.

Because why was she mumbling? If she wanted to insult me, she could’ve said it with her whole chest and let her other coworkers know how she feels about me directly and kept it pushing.

The 🚩 wanted to mumble “I think he was too busy looking at YOUR shirt” as if the shirt I’m wearing is inappropriate. Mind you? My shirt is a fitted long sleeve cheetah print turtle neck…

Like I am completely covered… granted it might accentuate the tata’s a bit but if you saw how small chested I am, you would see how much haterade she had coming for me like that.

I was helping a customer and he commented on us not wearing Halloween costumes today. I said ��oh it’s not my thing, but she has something Halloween themed” pointing at HER.

However she was behind the counter and he couldn’t see, plus he was hardly paying attention to her so he barely took the time to look before interrupting me.

Anywho, point is, she felt it was necessary to comment on MY outfit now. As if there’s anything wrong with it… now lady if you don’t suck it up your 60+ y/o BUTT with the jealousy + envy

🚩 was definitely projecting her insecurity onto me because she know she can’t pull off NOTHING like this. This lady has the biggest ED energy ever.

She is the epitome of almond mom. Except she’s old enough to be my grandma… okay maybe my aunt. Mind you, she wakes up everyday for walks: healthy.. until you realize how little she eats.

Her combination of eating popcorn (air) and protein bars/shakes as meals for the day have me wondering who hurt her bc home girl takes her food intake so seriously.

I am convinced she tracks cals on an app at home or on a watch or something. She counts her steps and everything. I just know she knows her exact weight to the tee. Always talking about weight.

So I’m ngl when she laughed and said “oh, that’s not very nice. I said that out loud” after making the comment about my shirt, I let that ish slide because I immediately knew it was projection.

Even got my other coworker laughing. And I really wanted to ask “what’s funny?” Bc I know her joke didn’t make any sense to be laughing if she claims it wasn’t nice…

She wanted to say that. Next time, say it with your chest since you cared enough to say it out loud… 🙄 and now adding to that, she wanted to ignore me pretty much the whole day.

From the moment I let her in at work, to the moment she left, she never initiated one conversation with me. Fine by me, but when I say something to you and you act like I don’t exist?

Oh, we’re done. That’s a goner relationship if we even had one. THAT I won’t tolerate. You not gonna treat me like I’m a spec of dust, especially for no reason. You got a problem, tell me.

If not, be respectful, keep it pushing and get out of my way. That’s really my problem with her. Because why go out of your way to cast me out and make me the loner when I didn’t do anything?

She has some deep rooted problems. Never should a 60+ women care that much about a person almost 40 years younger than her. Her daughter is a bit older than me…

I just have to wonder how she would feel if her daughter ever was treated that way. I don’t think she cares, as long as it’s me and not her daughter. She’s always been such a shady 🚩

Especially when my previous coworker used to work here. You could tell they would talk about me behind my back. It was just a matter of what was said.

That’s when I knew never to trust her 100% she always had this distasteful look in her eye. And the way she talks about ppl, if she is telling ME things, you know she’s talking about me also…

Another thing that irritated me is she would always interrupt me while I was helping clients, chatting up a storm and disrupting my productivity.

I knew dang well she was doing it intentionally bc half the ppl wouldn’t even look up to say hi back at her before realizing. Or it would be the quickest, most uninterested hello.

But lemme tell you, this 🚩 would walk by my wicket every time I stepped away from it as if she was scanning my stuff to see if I did something wrong.

Like she’s waiting for me to mess up. Or seeing if she can put something away that’s not any of her business. Or correct something that isn’t wrong. Anything just to talk down to me…

Like sorry, I didn’t realize you were micromanager here. Get this, she even asked me if I started up a time sheet of my OT shifts, and when I said “no” she just looks at me, takes my hand and slaps it.

Don’t get me started on how that pissed me off so much. I already hate being touched enough as it is… but this 🚩 had the audacity yesterday doing that. I was livid.

Like she laughed it off as if it was funny again. What’s with the laughing? She always thinks everything’s funny when it comes to disrespecting me… I’m done with that ish.

Idc Idc Idc. I will not give her access to my personal space any longer. Because we do not be having rapport like that for her to be thinking she can even get away with that.

She made it clear she doesn’t want no physical contact with me anyways the moment she stopped responding to my greetings. Like when she was leaving today, I told her bye.

She completely ignored it and says bye to everyone else surrounding me. Try to convince me that’s not intentional… just try. I was with a client too, so I even had a witness.

I am over her, completely. Passive aggressive ass ppl don’t work well with me. So I’m over that. I gotta protect my peace. I can’t have that negative energy around me.

If she don’t rock with me, I refuse to pretend to rock with her. However in the mean time, you not about to mess up my relationships with everyone else. Let me have that and we good.

I genuinely believe every single person in my work establishment prefers her over myself however regardless. Just because of her history there, her race, her connections to people in and out.

Overall, she just relates to everyone more than I do. And it irks my soul how much they can’t see how rudely she treats me. Because they would never have to be in my shoes to see it.

She acts like a mean girl still in high school, excluding the already very unpopular girl because they can’t relate or don’t know anything about her to make a conclusion.

It’s like she gave up on giving me a chance at ever having a relationship, so she’s making everyone else refuse to have a close relationship by highlighting my errors or bad traits.

Everyone messes up at my work, but I have many, many times. I am always so tremendously shamed for it due to the work culture and environment.

For me, they have never been as gracious to me as they have everyone else because I am the scapegoat. I mess up more because they never taught me the proper skills not to.

Granted, in a lot of ways, I have less experience. But I am part-time, so I haven’t always been around to observe and learn as much as others have, it’s not fair.

But on the other hand, when I ask for help, I am always dismissed or redirected and never helped to the capacity that I need. It makes me feel helpless and powerless.

No workplace has never made me feel so tiny and small. Weak and inadequate. Everyone says I should be grateful to have a job, but when they live in my shoes I want to hear what they say.

Is it okay for someone to feel disrespected almost every day at work? When the one person who should support you, your manager, is also the same person who gives you the most anxiety?

When that person is gone, you feel free and peace of mind, but when they’re back, you feel stressed and overwhelmed and anxiety that they’ll find something to blame you for.

Is it normal to be spoken down to like you are 5 and don’t know anything because you accidentally did something even though you knew it was a mistake?

Or is it normal to feel like on the list of people who work with you, there is a hierarchy and favourites are on top, scapegoats are on the bottom and you lie completely on the bottom.

Or what about when your coworkers are discussing conversations all in another language and you just know they have their own convos about things they want to do outside of work…

Is that normal? To be so excluded that people are actually surprised when you show up for work related events even though you answered multiple times that you are in fact coming?

Or some people who you work with can go a whole day without saying anything to you because they are not required to since they hardly work with you and don’t have relationship with u?

Pretty sure if having a job is that dreadful and awful to wake up to everyday especially with crippling anxiety and ADHD (time blindness) in the mornings, it’s not worth my mental health?

Because I’ve never felt so alone being surrounded by so many people before. In my whole life. Like surpassing school. Church. Moving across provinces. This job is the worst of all.

It rattles my brain that people can be so intentionally exclusive and inconsiderate. Ik everyone is going through their own ish, but the difference is I am still kind about it…

How come they can’t be? It’s probably directly correlated to their lack of a relationship to Christ, but at least just act civil. Like the intentional exclusion and snarky remarks is so unnecessary.

[spaghetti-n00dles]

i feel like the whole concept of a “Karen” customer/client has negatively impacted people’s ability to communicate and connect with one another. the concept should have made people realize how white women could weaponize their whiteness, womanhood, and wealth, and it should’ve made people realize that minimum wage customer service jobs can be very stressful and burdensome and workers are properly compensated for the stresses of their job.

but it’s been turned into a meme where workers can complain about any kind of customer interaction that doesn’t necessarily fit the standardized worker-customer interaction. i remember seeing a tiktok/short/reel/whatever where a worker was complaining about a woman who didn’t understand how to use dry shampoo and thought it was a replacement for regular shampoo. the customer was framed as being a stupid Karen, but i feel like misunderstanding is an honest one. if i was given incomplete or incorrect instructions on how to use a product that i had no familiarity with, i would probably use it wrong too. i would also get defensive if the worker then tried to act like i was stupid when i made an honest mistake.

another thing is the “boomer vs gen x vs millennial vs gen z” tiktoks where they portray millennials and gen z as being super nice to workers while boomers are stupid, slow, and out of touch. i know that these memes exaggerate the differences for the purpose of the joke, but it feels very unkind and insensitive. sure, iphones have been around for 10+ years at this point, but if you lived 50 years without this kind of technology and using other means to complete the same tasks, then it makes sense you will continue to do what works for you. let’s also not forget that as people get older, they tend to become more disabled, and things like fine motor skills (which are necessary for typing and whatnot) decline. and then there’s the fact of generational norms - a lot of younger people bought their phones because other young people were doing that. a lot of older people aren’t super online, and so it makes sense that older people are going to connect with their peers in ways that are popular with their peers.

[gabenvrhappened]

LifeOr... An Overlasting Winter

Read the inspired lyrics Everybody Is Sad

Stubbornness was born within me, so when I decided that I wanted to move to London, I knew I had to do it as soon as I could. That "soon" changed from time to time until it became December of 2023: Christmas time and New Year’s. "Yay", I thought. But I forgot about winter. It may seem irrelevant, but it’s not, so bear with me. The last, and first time, I’ve been to London, it was summer. The sun was shining until 9PM, and people were out and about. Concerts were happening, and beaches were packed. Nothing strange and all like you would imagine it would be — apart from the sun setting so late at night, which was completely mind-blowing for me. So coming here during the winter wasn’t really something I would think as much of a problem to consider. In my past experiences, seasons didn't really change much the whole aspects of ones life. I’ve faced winters before, and people would still go out and about. No beaches, but that’s not the only thing you do to socialize, right? Right?

Just as the sun sets, people were wired out differently here, and it took me so much to figure it out and to adapt (still am, actually). For a long time, I thought maybe I was the problem. Maybe my expectations were too high and of course everything would feel too hard, too strange, and too suffocating for me. But one night I was talking to a friend, and she said something that made everything make sense: "Gabe, people here are sad". And it’s true. All my theories now had a falling place. And as crazy as it may sound, the weather plays a huge factor in this. Here the nights can be much longer than in other parts of the world. Imagine being in total darkness at 4 in the afternoon for months and months? It’s no joke when I tell you that people here take supplements of vitamin C because of the lack of sun and to avoid (probably unsuccessfully as it seems) depression.

London is perfect for visiting, but to live in? I've came to learn that not so much. And my stubbornness knows that now, too. Being haunted with that realization makes me constantly wonder if I had made the right decision coming here. I’m constantly pondering if I should’ve stayed in my comfort zone for a little bit longer. The pros were looking favorable, of course, but then I reminded myself that, even in nice weathers, there would be challenges. So what was the point of postponing the ones that would matter the most? Being here now brought me some good people, opportunities and lessons I wouldn’t have had if I had decided to stay wrapped on my blanket for five more minutes. After all, good waves never made good sailors. Such a hard time is teaching me a lot.

However, not every lesson has a learning process immediately after. This whole thing of adapting took a huge toll on the way I perceive myself. Now, I’m just like everybody else: sad. I now sometimes look at myself in the mirror and don’t recognize my own reflection. Am I looking too dark? Too weird to fit? I can’t even look people in the eyes anymore — especially in the miserable ones I miserably tried to be friends with. I don’t even want to be seen most of the times (which is impossible now ever since I made the horrible decision to paint my hair pink), and honestly, I don’t want to even see myself. People liking me for me? HA! That's an impossible thought.

My mirror is so tired of hearing “I don’t know why I doubt my beauty; I’m handsome as hell”. Still, here I am, every day, at the gym, persuing society's idea of pretty. It hurts, indeed. Part of me is still trying because there’s a tiny hope that maybe the future will be better, and in that future, I have to be fit because fit guys are more welcomed. But being at the gym every day is hell. I like working out, so the problem is the people around me, because they’re all straight jocks with perfect body and perfect hair, and I’m far from being and having one thing or the other. Sometimes, I just want to be blind to not see anyone, but that’s a horrible thing to say, so I just wish I could have the strength to come during dawn where there’s no one to compare myself with. Yes, I’m down bad, crying at the gym, but hey, I can do it with a broken heart, but the honest truth is that I hate it here.

Especially when around me everyone has friends. They’re always on the phone, and they’re always hanging out. I feel like, even if I tried, O couldn't arrange any hang out. Who would want that anyway? My close friends forgot me. I was supposed to come here and learn how to not be alone, but they’re now just hooking up with depended girl, in a trisal, and I’m just on the sidelines because, hey, he was always alone anyway. He probably likes that. Once again, I’m laying in the bed I created for being... me.

So, what am I going to do about that? I’ll first download a hookup app to stay hours on because I finally decided that I can and want to have no string attached kind of sex, just to figure it out that even that is obnoxiously hard to get. Then, I’ll watch a movie at an overpriced movie theatre and walk around SoHo drinking until I’m drunk, because I recently decided that if I’m not drinking to have my chemistry fully altered, then there’s no need to engage in drinking at all. Better make my money worth it, right? While listening to The Prophecy howling at the moon. You know, just the basics of a normal Saturday night.

[electricbluebutterflies]

36 for the winter prompts :>

Modern AU Jessica/Leto (equivalent to mid-era but without the looming tragedy of it all), PG-ish, also on ao3.

candles

The power goes out. It’s that kind of night.

The explanation is clear enough, the snow falling outside a little heavy for this time of year but not that unusual, this yearly ritual of questionable infrastructure leading to a derailed evening and-

“It’ll just be a few hours. It’ll be fine.”

Ten years of this dynamic has taught Jessica a few hidden meanings. For example, whenever her husband uses the word fine, what he actually means is he doesn’t have the words for how much he’s internally panicking. She’s seen it in action just often enough to know and just often enough to play along, especially now that-

It’s late enough that their son is asleep, at least. Last thing either of them needs right now is a seven-year-old with too many questions. They may still get that later, but-

“Fine,” Jessica repeats in that you-know-damn-well-how-lucky-you-are-that-I-love-you voice she saves for these occasions. “I think…”

She’s good in a crisis, but it feels better to let her husband handle things, to hold his phone as a flashlight while he searches through kitchen drawers for a lighter that’s got to be in there somewhere and-

“This is why I don’t complain about the candles,” he murmurs, finally finding the damn thing.

“That and they’re out of the way and you like sleeping next to me…”

Not that a fight over a few trinkets acquired over the years would escalate that far… probably. On the rare occasions they turn volatile, anything is possible, and Jessica knows not to remove any of her options, and-

So she checks off a few stereotypes sometimes, fine. An array of jar candles is not the worst thing she could collect, she’s done her best to avoid most of the cliches of her demographic brackets, and see there’s a point to it, and-

All these things she internalizes, even now. All these conversations she still doesn’t know how to have.

Instead, she watches her partner work his way around the room – this whole open-concept living space situation does have its advantages – and make sure each candle he lights is in a strategic spot. Calmer than she is, or at least more convincing at hiding it, and-

“I hate to say this, but the fireplace may be a good idea.”

“Not yet. Not fighting that if we don’t have to.”

This is the core difference between them, she thinks. Something goes wrong, no matter how small, and her mind automatically goes to drastic damage control. Her husband is more patient, more inclined to wait things out and see what resolves on its own, and she envies that ability even as it frustrates her sometimes, and-

“I’m still curling up on the couch,” she says after a few moments. “Just in case. Warmer out here anyways.”

She’d prepped the blanket pile in advance, winter hibernation instincts in full force at the right time, no need to wander upstairs to grab anything. She’s confident in her abilities to make an adequate cocoon, and-

“Body heat is good too.”

Jessica fights the urge to roll her eyes. “If you think now is a good moment to seduce me…”

“Barely crossed my mind.”

“Fine. You’re warm.”

It’s just as easy to make a nest for two, to be reminded how well they do fit together even with layers of clothing between them. She’s more tired than she’d even realized, and-

“Is something else wrong, love?”

She laughs, involuntary reaction to a question she should’ve seen coming. “What, you can’t feel me vibrating with anxiety right now?”

“Still have to ask.”

She turns her head and kisses the side of his face. “At least you do ask. At least…”

“A few hours,” he says again. “And we’re not going out in this in the morning regardless, and-“

“This is why I love you,” she murmurs. “You never think anything bad can happen to us.”

“You have the worrying covered. I think…”

“That wasn’t a complaint.”

She curls up just a little closer and lets her eyes close, lets herself fall asleep to the steady rhythms of heartbeats. It’ll be fine. It has to be fine.

(In the morning, the power is back on but her husband messes with the fireplace anyways because he needs a project and the fact that they haven’t tried to use the damn thing in a few years isn’t enough to stop him. It’s. Fine.)

[charmercharm3r]

imagine roommate! 3racha coming back from the gym to u in one of their rooms trying on lingerie bc “i don’t have a full length mirror in mine :(((“ literally been on my mind all day

-📿

finally finished this one🥳🥳

-

Sharing is Caring

BC, SCB, HJS

wc: 5.6k

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, foursome, gets kinda nasty with a side of fluff, jisung x reader leaning lol

-

It was the first and last time you’d ever go shopping with Jisung. He was the only one of your three roommates that was currently available to accompany you. As fashionable as the boy is, he couldn’t give a single valuable opinion for his life. Everything you showed him, he’d give you either a thumbs up or tell you that “it’s your body. If you like it, you like it.”

You’d been at the mall with him for almost two hours when you’d given up asking him. It was obvious when Jisung started to run out of social battery, he’d tell you he’d wait on a bench outside whatever store while you looked around. By the time you’d come to the last store you wanted to check out, Jisung was practically drained.

“Wait outside. I’ll be quick,” you told him, already heading towards the lingerie store without looking back at him. What you didn’t see was his head perking up at the sight of you entering the much flashier and… adult… store. But he did as you asked, taking a seat outside and swinging his legs until you returned.

While inside, you browsed around and picked out a few pieces that stood out. One in particular that really caught your eye was a light blue babydoll set, feminine and frilly and so out of your comfort zone. There was no one you had to wear it for, but it was just so cute. It was also very different compared to the usual black and nude lingerie you typically stuck to. All the courage you had to even walk in the store and pick up the babydoll set evaporated as soon as one of the employees came up and offered to show you where the dressing rooms were, all with a judgemental look on her face. “Is that your boyfriend outside?” She asked, head pointed straight at Jisung, who watched you fiddling with the fabric between your fingers.

In an attempt to ward off her disapproving energy, you replied, “yeah, he is. I don’t need the fitting rooms, I think he’ll like this.” You walked towards the register without another word from her.

You probably should’ve taken up her offer on trying the set on before you got home, but for some reason, the way she looked at Jisung and how she stared at you sparked a sort of jealousy. Upon purchasing it, you instantly strode back over to your friend and took his arm, pulling him from the store and walking away.

He didn’t question your interaction with the store employee or why you’d dragged him away so quickly, but his mind didn’t stop racing at the idea of you wearing lingerie. Little to your knowledge, he had been crushing on you for the longest time. But you were also very, very off limits. It was a rule that he and your other two roommates agreed on when you moved in. You were their friend first, roommate second, and object of their sexual desires at the very end of the list.

However, he just had to tell Chan and Changbin of what he witnessed. So when the two of you arrived home and they invited you both to work out, Jisung jumped at the opportunity while you politely declined and used the excuse that you were tired. In all honesty, you just wanted a reason to stay home and try on your newest addition to your underwear drawer. As soon as they’d left, you locked yourself in your room and stripped, taking your time to put on the outfit. You’d taken off the tag without knowing if it would even fit or not, sighing at your own recklessness. But as you slowly slid on the light colored panties and draped the incredibly sheer top over your head, you came to the realization that you didn’t even have a mirror in your room– not a full length one, anyways. Your little vanity that you usually used wasn’t big enough to get the full view of your new set.

You were on a roll today, acting without thinking as you moved to unlock your door and peak your head outside into the hallway. Checking up and down the hall as well as listening for any movements, you quietly padded around the house looking for any sort of reflection that could show you how you truly looked. The bathroom mirror was a bust, too tall so that you only saw from your diaphragm and up. It was still too bright outside to see anything in the reflection of the sliding door that led to the balcony. Your only other option was perhaps one of the boy’s rooms.

Cursing under your breath at your own ignorance, you mentally noted to grab a full length mirror the next time you went out.

The house still seemed to be empty, but out of anxiety you treadded silently back towards the hallway where the four bedrooms were. You were lucky enough for your room to be next to Jisung’s, who was the quietest of the three boys when alone in their respective spaces. But he was also one of the more private ones, meaning his door was locked. You still checked, of course, but with no luck. Across from him was Chan, also very private and also very much locked. Changbin’s door directly across from yours was your last hope.

And voila! You were met with the overwhelming smell of spice and linen clearly left behind from his cologne and laundry detergent. His walls were painted a dark navy blue, complimenting the pale gray sheets that were messily spread across his bed. There wasn’t much else in his room besides the dresser, a few dumbbells, a desk that acted also as his bedside table, and a closet. There was no mirror that you could see, but upon further inspection, you opened the closet door and found just that.

With your back to the entrance of his room, you smoothed out the top of the lingerie set, tilting your head and twisting to see all the different angles. You had to admit, you looked good. Despite it being entirely different from what you were used to, it was nice to know that you could pull off other colors and other styles. So for a while, you just admired your body in his bedroom mirror.

Jisung had rushed Chan and Changbin out of the house, whispering in their ears that he had something important to share with them. The three of them were already in the gym of their apartment building and starting their routine when Jisung had realized he’d forgotten his pre workout drink. “I’ll be right back,” he said and rushed back upstairs before he could even tell them about you and the lingerie store. He’d jogged to his locked bedroom and found his drink sitting on the desk, taking a couple swigs of it before exiting to find Changbin’s door open. And you in all your glory.

You didn’t even hear him come in let alone notice him, jaw almost to the floor as your hands ran over your curves. Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you turned your hips to see how your butt looked in the baby blue. Immaculate, of course.

“Wow,” Jisung said, a lot louder than he’d intended to.

You jumped, seeing his reflections standing in the doorway with a dumbfounded look. It took you a second to remember your current state, hands flying to cover your chest and private parts. “Wha– I thought you were supposed to be at the gym?” Blood rushed to your cheeks as your eyes darted around aimlessly. When he didn’t respond, you turned to face him.

Jisung looked down at the drink in his hand, “I forgot s– something.” You followed his gaze downward, seeing the bottle. But you kept going, only now noticing his figure in the shadow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his shirt were cut off, drawing your attention to his sculpted arms. But how tiny his shorts were made your mouth water. You’d almost forgotten to breathe once you noticed a tent starting to rise.

You’d briefly thought back to the interaction with the store employee, thinking harder back to how Jisung was watching you like a hawk.

Grazing over his body again, your eyes met his. With the most innocent look you could conjure, “I don’t have a mirror in my room. What do you think, Sungie?” At a snail’s pace, you removed your hands from your chest and core, placing them behind your back and tilting your head.

He’d short circuited, unable to think about anything besides the way your tits peaked through the material of the lingerie. He didn’t even care that he was completely hard and almost to the point of throbbing. Not a single ounce of shame lingered in him as he took a step into Changbin’s room. “Really… really… something,” was all he could compute.

It felt so wrong, like you breaking a whole variety of rules that could get you into some deep shit with your other housemates. But the way his eyes were completely blown out and how good he looked, you couldn’t get yourself to care. So you took a step closer to him, looking up and smiling devilishly.

“Yeah?” You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat the nearer you got. It gave you a surge of confidence, “wanna take a closer look?”

Jisung nodded embarrassingly fast, followed by dropping the bottle and pulling you in for a kiss even faster. Your head spun at how quickly things escalated. One second you were standing in the middle of Changbin’s room, the next you were spread out on his bed with Jisung hovering over you. His kisses were ravaging, sloppy but still heated as he made his way down your neck, only stopping to breathe. Your hands traveled through his thick hair, carding and pulling it in between moans as he continued further down.

Over the baby blue material, he kissed the tops of your breasts and licked across your nipple, making it perk more and leaving dark wet marks. The more your hands caressed him, the more he soaked your new clothes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you in this,” he mumbled into you, leaving peppered kisses down your stomach. As he reached the hemline of your frilly underwear you arched into his touch, mind wandering to how smug you felt leaving the store earlier hand in hand with him. “Just had to tell the guys about how hot you looked.”

You didn’t expect it from yourself, aroused by the idea of both Jisung and your other two roommates fawning over you in lingerie. It made you practically shove his face towards your cunt, wet spot growing larger the longer he stared up into your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered, unsure of what you were truly asking for.

He didn’t wait any longer before just pushing the material to the side and letting his tongue run up through your folds. The warmth of the wet muscle made you groan, eyes shutting as your head fell back into the sheets. The fact that you weren’t in either of your own beds only added to the forbiddenness of the situation, how risky and taboo it was to be doing this in your roommate’s domain.

Jisung was good with his tongue, flicking your sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip and alternating to suctioning you in. You let out a particularly loud moan when he sucked harder and let his fingers circle your entrance.

You were so immersed in the sensation that you didn’t see the body standing in the doorway. “And when I thought today couldn’t get any weirder,” Chan stood, dumbfounded at the sight before him.

Seeing him in complete awe of you and Jisung set shocks through you, unable to stop yourself from shoving his head harder into you and mewling out. You kept your eyes locked on Chan’s face as Jisung continued to eat you out like a man starved. The absolute bliss your body writhed in sent blood rushing straight to the watcher’s cock, arms flexing in restraint. But then you pried one hand from Jisung’s hair, bringing it up to stick two fingers into your mouth.

As you swirled your tongue around your fingers and the man between your knees continued to ravish you, Chan was already stripping his shirt off and walking to the side of the bed closest to your head. Despite Jisung wanting you all for himself, he enjoyed the show you’d put on as you popped your fingers from your mouth and pulled Chan in by the back of his hair for a messy kiss. It fueled his need to prove himself to you, so he circled your entrance for a second to collect your dripping essence, pushing two digits into your relaxing hole. The sudden intrusion made you cry into Chan’s mouth.

Hearing your sweet noises made the older pull away from you and tug his shorts down, tugging lazily at his fully erect cock. As Jisung continued to suck at your clit and stroke his fingers into you, Chan stood tall. He looked down at you with an expression that told you he wanted only one thing. But to get you to how he wanted, he grabbed the base of his cock and tapped it against your cheek.

“Open,” he commanded, intentionally missing your tongue that was now sticking out. It was slightly humiliating, Jisung having witnessed the whole thing as well. But you were so close to your release, unable to care about how dumb you must’ve looked.

Jisung could feel how tightly you were contracting around his fingers, your hips bucking up and using the handle on his hair to grind harder into his tongue. He enjoyed himself, much more than he’d ever admit, how you used him to chase your own pleasure, so sure he was leaking precum through his shorts. Laundry was definitely going to need to be done.

But just as you were at your tipping point, needing just a little more to get over, Chan gathered a pool of saliva in his mouth, letting it drip from his tongue. He’d meant to slather it onto his dick, but with how erratically the lower half of your body moved he missed, smearing it across your lips and cheek. It was such a filthy sight and an even filthier feeling, forcing your orgasm to rip through you and clench your thighs around Jisung’s head. Just as your eyes shut and mouth opened to cry out, the man standing over you easily shut you up by shoving his cock into your mouth, immediately muffling you. The vibrations from your moans traveled through Chan’s body, making him groan out as well.

Reaching down to find a grip on your hair, he gently thrusted into you, taking his time. Jisung, still clamped between your legs, almost refused to detach from your cunt. But you’d released him and pulled him up by the hair. “She tastes so fucking good. Wanna try, hyung?” he playfully asked, watching the older screw his eyes shut in pleasure as he climbed to his knees between your quivering legs.

“Yeah. C’mere,” Chan breathed out, looking at Jisung and pulling him in by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. He even surprised himself by the action, letting his tongue glide over the other boy’s as he took in the taste and scent of your high. You, mouth still full of Chan’s cock and legs wrapping around Jisung’ s waist, watched as the two boys above you temporarily forgot about your surging needs. You’d gotten their attention again by digging the tip of your own tongue into Chan’s slit, making him push the younger away and rip another moan from his chest. “Fuck– he’s right. You’re fucking delicious.”

You reached up to grab the base of his cock and pop him from your mouth for a split second to say, “bet you taste even better.”

You could hardly process what occurred in the next few moments. Chan pushed you harshly into the bed and took a step away, “want front or back?” He asked the younger.

For a moment, he pondered. “Front.” Just as Chan was lifting you back up– completely contradicting the mean way he’d treated you a few seconds before– another set of footsteps echoed through the house. Less than a minute later, your third roommate stood sweating and out of breath in the doorway. The three of you were unashamed, uncaring that you’d been using Changbin’s bed without him there or without his permission. He watched Chan lift and settle you with your back to his chest while Jisung selfishly blocked the view of your cunt by quickly undressing, slipping off your panties, and gliding his cock between your used folds.

“I’ve talked about a foursome for how fucking long and you all decide to do it while I’m not even here?” Changbin exclaimed, strutting into his bedroom towards the desk and opening a drawer. “If you’re gonna go doubles, at least use some lube. Idiots,” he popped the lid of the bottle open and handed it to Chan.

“Binnie,” you dreamily called out, extending your hand towards him. Excited, he stood before you, letting you grab his shirt and pull him down for a kiss as well. He was already hard, the second he walked in on the scene all the blood rushed to his cock.

It was experimental for you, sort of new because you weren’t used to taking something in both holes at the same time. Sure, you’d tried anal before, but that was with a toy and with a partner who’d known what they were doing. Chan was kissing the back of your neck and whispering encouraging words in your ear while he dumped a generous amount of the liquid over his cock, using his fingers to pick some up and spread it around your hole. With Jisung toying with your clit and Changbin now pushing his shorts down, you were more than aroused.

But you were growing impatient, mewling as Chan pushed one finger in to test the waters and Changbin lazily stroking his cock before you. All of them were well endowed, Jisung perfectly hooked and Chan on the longer side. Changbin, however, was girthier than most, unsure how well you’d be able to take him in your mouth.

Jisung flicked your clit rather hard, making you arch into Chan’s hand and whimper again. “More,” you managed to say. The youngest looked to Chan over your shoulder, giving him a nod to enter first.

He went slow, gently letting you sink onto his cock inch by inch and get used to the feeling. The way he’d felt was nothing like your toys, hard but also fleshy and soft, much warmer than any piece of plastic. Your head fell back against his shoulder, biting your lip to keep from groaning at the unfamiliarity. Chan was holding back his own moans, the stretch burning for a few moments until you could completely relax. In the meantime, all you could hear were their sweet praises and the rushing of your blood in your ears. When you looked at Jisung, you gave him the okay to slide into you.

When he did, his head immediately fell back and eyes shut, but your jaw went slack. You felt so full as the youngest bottomed out, reaching out blindly for Changbin’s hand to pull him closer.

“Fuck— can barely move, she’s so tight,” Jisung mumbled through his teeth, fighting against the instinct to pound into you.

“I’d be okay with dying right now,” Chan joked to ease the tension, kissing your shoulder.

Changbin pumped himself in front of your face, hand petting through your hair, “I would’ve appreciated being invited to the party.”

Your body clenched at the thought of having your mouth stuffed as well, making Chan moan and hips stutter into you. “Jesus, I’ll blow if you do that again,” he gripped your waist tighter. “Me too, Bin. Found Jisung eating her out for lunch.”

The man standing looked down at you with a sweet smile, tugging his aching dick harder and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Really now? What were you doing here, little one?” The grip on your head pulled back harshly, making you clench again.

“Trying on this slutty lingerie I was telling you guys about,” Jisung answered for you, hand trailing up your belly to push the garment over your breasts and tweak your nipple. He twisted the nub, your brain hazing over with every passing second.

Changbin’s handle on your hair forced you to look at him, mouth still hanging open. When you stuck your tongue out, all his inhibitions went out the window. “Pretty little thing wants all her holes filled, hm? Why don’t you let our friends play with you for a bit, then you can taste.” Whimpering quietly, you nodded and reached a hand back to card through Chan’s hair. It encouraged him to move, gently pulling out before lazily pushing back in, breath hitching as the tight ring of muscles contracted around him.

Jisung followed, setting his pace opposite of the man under you. Wet sounds echoed throughout the bedroom, the only other noise falling from your mouths as the feeling of two cocks in you made your eyes glaze over. It was such a strangely wonderful experience, you didn’t know how good it would feel to be filled from both ends. You also didn’t realize how dirty of a mouth Changbin had.

He stared down at you condescendingly, eyes flittering between your fucked out face and lewd cunt. “Who knew our pretty princess could take two cocks so well. Wish you could see yourself, you look so filthy. Bet they’re hitting all the right spots, hm? Could probably feel Channie hyung’s dick rubbing against Jisungie, isn’t that right?” All spat at you while he swiped some of the lube dripping from your ass, using it to make the glide of his hand along his own cock easier. But he was right. As the two took turns pulling out and pushing into you, you could feel the undersides of their dicks scraping against one another. It made your head spin even more.

Through the immense pleasure you felt, you were able to breathe out, “want you, too.”

“Give the princess what she wants,” Jisung managed to say. His hands ran up and down your thighs, eventually keeping you spread open by hooking his arms under the crooks of your knees.

“You want my cock? Want your mouth stuffed, too, little one?” Changbin cooed just before he shoved his thumb into your mouth. You hummed around his digit, trying your hardest to focus on him through the heat rising in your gut.

The weight of his thumb on your tongue was enough to make your walls pulse around the two men, both moaning out as you did.

Chan’s arms snaked tighter around your midsection. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— I’m gonna cum.” He used his last few thrusts to hammer up into you, pulling out and letting his cock smack against the inside of your leg as he released all over your stomach with a long sigh. Jisung stilled in your cunt, seeing you covered in cum being a deep rooted fantasy that he’d never thought he’d get to see.

The older continued to let out spurts of his seed, thick and hot against your skin as your hands soothingly rubbed over his. “So good. So, so good for me,” he whispered into your ear, just loud enough for only you to hear. His praises were like music, arousal electrifying your body.

“Already, hyung?” Changbin joked to the older.

“You feel her back here and see how long you last.”

You watched his cum drip off the sides of your body, unaware of how intently you were staring at it.

“I think our pretty little princess likes being messy,” Changbin teased. His voice broke your attention away from the sticky white fluid, making you look up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Jisung’s balls tightened at the sight of you, eyes blown wide and looking up at his older, much more attractive friend like he’d hung the stars. Despite being the one balls deep inside you, he was jealous. So with your attention on Changbin, he started to pound into you, skin slapping skin. You instantly snapped your head at him, seeing his eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes stared into your own. Leaning over you to the side Chan wasn’t on, he whispered, “I don’t like sharing.” You cried out when you felt a pair of fingers rub against your clit.

Just as quickly as you’d found yourself in this position, you felt Jisung pulling out and yanking you off of Chan. He flipped you on your stomach, pulling you up so you were on all fours. The older chuckled, scooting out of the way so that Changbin could take his place in front of you. Before you could even think about sucking him off, Jisung entered you again, using the fatty flesh of your ass as leverage to slam you into him again and again.

Your mouth dropped, eyes shutting as tears stung behind your waterline. The man in front of you brushed your hair back, creating a makeshift ponytail with his hand as he guided your head down and onto his cock. You moaned louder into him, making Changbin shiver.

Almost unable to concentrate with the way Jisung continually abused your cunt, Chan helped you out by gathering his cum from your stomach with two fingers and bringing it to your mouth. Popping off Changbin’s cock for a second, you took his fingers in with a sigh, tasting the bitter-salty liquid. As soon as he pulled away, you were back on Changbin, tasting both his cock and Chan’s cum.

“How’s it taste?” Chan chuckled, smearing his saliva covered fingers over your cheeks. All you could do was moan, in return making Changbin do so as well.

You used your hand to pump whatever was left of Changbin’s cock that couldn't fit in your mouth, swirling your tongue and pressing harder into the ridge where the head met the length. “What the fu—“

Changbin couldn’t finish his sentence, too lost in the feeling of your warmth.

Jisung was unrelenting, fighting off his high every time you squeezed around him, enticing him to fill you with more cum. But he was buzzing, too much energy for his body for him to handle and making him thrust without taking a second to savor you and your velvety walls.

Your lips cupped around the tip of Changbin’s head, sucking him in as his stomach rapidly contracted. He used the grip on your hair to roughly push you back down, tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. Typically, you hated the guys that would push your head. But with how nasty the things he was saying to you earlier were, you couldn’t find it in you to care. You just wanted to make him cum.

So you let him abuse your throat, sure that it’ll be sore tomorrow. But you moaned as Jisung reached around to toy with your clit again, vibrating the entire length of Changbin’s dick. He used your hair to lift and slam your head onto him until eventually holding you completely still so he could buck up and fuck your throat. He was rough like this for a few more seconds before he dropped his hips and pushed your head down onto him, holding your nose to his pelvis as he shot his load down your throat. You hummed around him as he came, guttural groans falling from his lips.

Chan laughed, teasing Changbin about coming too quickly as well. You attempted to swallow with his cock still in your mouth, pulling a few overstimulated whimpers out of him until he tugged you off by your hair again.

With his cum dribbling from the corners of your mouth, Changbin pulled you in for a nasty kiss, bouncing against his lips as Jisung still searched for that satisfying high he craved.

Sure, he could’ve blown by now. But he’d been pining after you for so long and he felt like he was running on pure adrenaline. If he were to cum now, he’d be wasting so much potential. So he kept fucking into you, pulling your hips into him so hard that you were sure there would be bruises on your ass from where his hip bones hit.

Chan and Changbin sat back and enjoyed the show, loving how dumb and sloppy you were now that you were drenched in their seed. The third boy was loving it just as much, thriving off his name falling from your lips like it was all you could think of.

To be fair, it was. Jisung has been the focal point of your sexual desires all day, starting from that incident at the store. How hungrily he watched you, then caught you in another boy’s room wearing the sluttiest thing you owned. And those tiny fucking shorts— there was no way you could conjure up a single thought that wasn’t Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

The two older roommates continued to call you the lewdest things, “cum princess,” “pocket rocket,” “fuck toy,” “cum dumpster.” Jisung almost forgot that they were even there, entranced by how he would disappear into your swollen pussy.

He was close now, as were you. Your walls pulsed and fluttered and almost sucked him in as the heat rising your stomach burned so painfully good. Jisung took your hair from Changbin, who was playing with it mockingly. He yanked you up, pressing your back to his chest. The change of angle made you whimper, tears steadily streaming down your face as his other hand made its way around your cum covered torso. “This is the last time I’m sharing you. Enjoy seeing them in the post nut glow you caused. You’re mine now,” he growled in your ear.

The possessiveness unexpectedly made you shudder, eyes rolling back without a single thought other than to cum.

“Look at that. Finally broke you,” Jisung laughed, shoving your upper body back into Changbin and focusing on his release.

You didn’t need him to worry about you coming, his words did you in as you slumped into your roommate. Vision going white, holding onto Changbin’s biceps so hard that you left crescent shaped marks into his skin, your orgasm took over your body. Heat suffocated your skin as your ankles locked into Jisung’s legs, the shivering of your pussy pushing him over the edge as well.

He delivered a few more deep, hard thrusts, making sure to milk himself and give you everything he had.

It took you a few minutes to catch your breath, head still dizzy but light as air. Chan and Changbin smiled down at you fondly, stroking your hair and giving you nonstop praises whereas Jisung stayed rock hard and lodged inside your cunt, unable to pull away from the warm and slick hole.

Eventually, he managed to get himself together, stealing you away from the two to bring you into an embrace. He kissed the top of your head while your roommates ran off to get things to clean you up.

“Are you okay?” Jisung whispered, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. All you could do was nod and nuzzle tighter into his arms. “I meant it. I really, really don’t like sharing.”

Your eyes threatened to shut, “no more kissing Chan.”

He laughed, “okay. No more kissing Chan.”

Sleep was so close to taking over you, but still, you felt yourself being lifted and carried to a different place, gently being placed into what felt like clean sheets. For a minute, it was just you in the silence. But then you heard shuffling in the distance, voices speaking to one another until footsteps lightly trekked through the room again.

“Is it okay if I clean you up a bit?” Jisung’s voice asked quietly. Eyes still closed, you nodded, completely exhausted. You could hear him giggle, hands gently guided you onto your back and spreading your legs. He ran a warm, wet towel up your center, apologizing as you winced and continued to wipe down the rest of your body.

When you couldn’t feel him on you anymore, you opened your eyes groggily, searching for him. Jisung reappeared in the room not a moment later, silly smiling. You made grabby hands at him, wanting someone to hold on to. “Okay, okay. Cuddles,” he jumped into bed next to you, holding you as if you were made of glass.

You rolled onto your side, his chest against your back. But when you shifted your hips, you felt someone poking at the back of your thigh. Immediately, your eyes opened. “Jisung?”

“I had too much pre work out,” he said, slightly ashamed that he was still rock hard. But you flipped back over and deviously smiled, suddenly full of energy again.

“Oh god, don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. Before he could protest further, you leaned in to kiss him. The kiss started to become slightly more heated until he pulled away. “Can I come with you in the store next time?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his request, nodding and connecting your lips again. It was going to be a long day.

-

A/N: wasn’t really sure how i wanted to go about this buuut i enjoyed writing it!! not gonna lie, those pre work out drinks are fucking crazy. I had some to keep me up while studying for final exams...got lots of studying done..o_o

send me more requests! this was so fun and im more than happy to do them!!!

-momo < 3

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

New friendships

Eddie Munson x cheerleader reader

Requested :) I hope you enjoyed and I did it justice. Sorry it took so long :( 

Request are open

If you like please consider liking, reblogging, and commenting :) 

And let me know if I should do a part two

Y/N L/N was a part of Hawkin highs cheerleaders but she never really fitted into the popular status. Y/N, from an outsider's point of view, probably should've been more of an outcast since she enjoyed things they did like rock music and metal or horror movies and books that didn't just love stories. These aspects of her got her harassed by the other cheerleaders but not too much in the public crowd since she was technically a part of the popular crowd. And she was thankful for that.

Eddie Munson has always had a crush on Y/N. He thought she was the prettiest cheerleader this school had and she was extremely smart. Having her in his English class was the only reason he went to class every day. She knew the material better than the teacher did and Eddie loved hearing her analysis of the books they read in class. The two of them have talked in passing, friendly hellos and nods or waves in the halls but nothing more than that. Eddie was dying to talk to her. To have a real relationship with her no matter what type it was. She didn't treat him like a freak and he doesn't understand why but he wasn't complaining.

Y/N has been stressed out lately and for some reason, nothing is helping her relax. Chrissy, Y/N's friend, suggested she talks to Eddie for some weed. "I don't know Chrissy, I mean I've never done any type of drug what if I don't react right?" Chrissy gives her friend what can only be described as a pity smile, not because she pities her but because she's been in her shoes, "Honey, life is hard and super stressful, if trying weed one time helps then that's great, and if it doesn't then we know to not have you try it anymore." Y/N nods to the words, and it does make sense... "I'll talk to Eddie after English." 

Eddie wasn't ready for Y/N to come up to him at the end of English. If he knew that she was going to want to talk then he would've prepared. Oh my god, she’s coming over to me. why?? did something happen? god what if I smell? well, I shouldn’t just shower?? Is my hair frizzy!? Eddie our hair is always frizzy get a grip!  "Hey, Eddie I was wondering if we could talk?" okay breathe and act totally normal Eddie "Of course princess. What's up?" Standing from his seat he realizes that they're so close their nose nearly touch. Blushing, both take a step back and Y/N lets out a small breathy giggle. “Let’s get out of here and talk somewhere privately” 

The two of them walked out to the woods and sat at Eddie’s working area. “So what did you need to talk about sweetheart?” Eddie looks at her with concern as he asks her. “I’ve been stressing out so much Eddie” admitting this out loud Y/N’s shoulders finally drop and lose tension. “Chrissy suggested to me to talk to you about trying weed for my stress but I’ve never done anything like that before.” Eddie sympathizes with you, he really does since he’s been there before. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything like that if you don’t feel comfortable with weed, but if you want to try weed for the first time I’d gladly sell you some, first time customers get their first sale for free! And we can go back to my trailer to smoke together if you’ve nervous to smoke by yourself. I understand that you don’t know how you might react but I’ll be there to make sure the first time is an enjoyable doll.” 

Y/N gives Eddie a soft smile. She never knew he was so thoughtful and god did she appreciate him. “Eddie that’s so sweet of you to offer, I’d feel much more comfortable doing it that way.” Eddie feels himself blush hearing Y/N call him sweet. “Come on sweetheart I can drive us to my place but first we should pick up some snacks you’ll like”

Stopping at the store Eddie and Y/N run in and grabs some goodies for the evening. The two of them haven’t stopped talking about everything and anything. They both discovered that they have the same favorite movie, and they like the same bands but different songs from them. While in the store they even realize that they had their favorite type of snacks too. 

Eddie and Y/N can both tell that this is going to be a beautiful new friendship.