#at least he has a better life now... I think?

[cntloup]

medieval au

periods :'(

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

as simon had promised before, he never forced himself on you. and you know he's not that kind of man.

you’ve felt forced and used your whole life. but with him, it feels like you can finally breathe. he makes you feel safe, and free.

but now, he can sense the heavy tension between you. he knows you're not that close, at least not yet. but he thought that you'd feel more comfortable as time went by. now he feels disappointed that it's not the case at all as you drift away from him more and more each day.

yes, you've been distant the past few days. and it all started suddenly, making him think he did something wrong which in return, makes you feel horrible as you beat yourself up over it.

but you have to do this. he doesn't have to deal with your issues right now. as if a curse has been cast upon you since you were born, because you're a woman.

that's what you were taught anyway which you always considered unfair, even cruel.

you're now curled up in your bed as waves of painful cramps thrash through your body, making you curse everyone and everything, the gods and all that for making you go through this every month.

you put a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs of pain and you scream into the pillow when it gets unbearable.

that's when he enters the room with a worried expression etched on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concern since you haven't gone out of bed all day.

he finds you curled into yourself, eyes squeezed shut and you're too lost in the excruciating pain that you don't notice his presence until he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder as the bed dips with his weight on it.

"what's wrong, love?" he asks softly, "nothing! please just go!" you burst out, voice coming out whiny due to the pain coursing through your abdomen as you clench it tighter.

you almost feel ashamed. it's a curse. a shameful curse that you must endure all your life. you're being punished. but for what sin? being a woman?!

the thoughts run around your mind until you decide to cast them away. it's all stupid nonsense you've been fed since you were a child.

you lift your head to face him and his gaze softens the moment he sets eyes on your glossy eyes and pouty lips.

"tell me, love. please. i need to know." he says, gently wiping away a stray tear on your cheek.

'he's my husband for god's sake! he should know what the hell i'm going through!' you think to yourself.

"it's just my monthly bleeding." you mutter quietly, lips wobbling slightly.

"oh..." he pauses, nearly taken aback. he's heard some vague stuff about it, but of course, he doesn't know fully well what's going on.

"is there something i can do for you?" he asks, feeling helpless and deeply worried.

"i... it really hurts." you whine and he makes his way to lay behind you and takes you into his embrace, strong burly arms wrapped around your body.

"tell me where it hurts, love." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver, the low timbre of his voice sending a wave of heat right to your core.

you take his hand and guide him to your lower belly, "here." you say, pressing on the back of his hand and he starts to tenderly massage the area as his lips find your neck, softly trailing kisses on your skin and moving to your shoulder.

the delightful feeling of his large rough hand caressing your sensitive body and his light kisses on your skin make you floaty and hazy.

"better, love?" he asks after some time, lifting his head to look at you and noticing your droopy eyes which makes him chuckle.

"hmm... much better." you hum lowly in contentment since your pain has subsided and it feels so good to be in his arms, so warm and safe.

"get some rest, love. i'll be right here when you wake up." he murmurs and places one last kiss on your neck as your eyelids slowly drape over and you drift into a slumber.

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 10 : MOMMY'S BOY; SISTERS PAWN

"The scandal of it all!"

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo realized he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 3K

[ DISCLAIMER!!! YOUR BODY IS BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY IT IS!!! AND YOU ARE WORTH MORE THAN A TRILLION GAZILLION KABILLION BUCKS!!!]

“That dress makes you look fat.”

“I agree, you look a tad… robust.”

For today’s catastrophe, you had the joy of honing in on the final detail for you and Katsuki’s wedding. The dress, of course!

You’ve always watched TV shows where the excited, bubbling bride brings their loved ones to shop for “the dress.” Only to be filled with anger and distraught over the absolute gall their family was.

You thought to yourself how you would never let this happen to you. If there was a problem, you tell them to get the fuck out! It’s your wedding anyway.

But now that you fit the quota (and maybe not the dress), you’re starting to think otherwise. And who else is better to go dress shopping with, than your fiance’s mother and your beloved sister?

Swallowing your pride, you show a defeated smile and step down from the elevated space. Turning around, you head back into the dressing room and look in the mirror. Letting out an exhale, you brushed your hand through your hair and placed it back on your hip with a plop.

“Just a couple of more dresses until they break,” you chuckled, reassuring yourself from the absolute nightmare this whole day has been. Biting your lip, you began to look at yourself a bit more. Straightening out some flimsy pieces here and there, swaying side to side in the dress.

You can’t believe you’re doing this…

You’ve fantasized about moments like these in your head millions of times. You’d be the perfect wife, marrying the perfect husband, who has the perfect family.  But now that everything has come to the forefront— it just seemed so dull.

You’re thankful you get some chance of normalcy… paparazzi included.

It was only an amount of time until you’d walk down the aisle to the “man of your dreams” and sign yourself away for the rest of eternity. And not even that will be set in stone.

“You’re just an open book of failures, aren't you?”

You spoke quietly to yourself. Scrunching your mouth to the side, you held back tears. You didn’t have the money to stain a 10-thousand-dollar dress with a 10-dollar mascara.

“Failed job, failed love life, failed marriage, failed quirk…” you trailed.

When was there a time when your life gave you a break? A moment of grace? When was the last time you felt genuine happiness beyond your prowess?

A singular tear streamed down your cheek.

Chin held high, you extended your hand out and under your cheek. “10 thousand dollars,” you whimpered. You’re wearing a dress worth ten thousand dollars, and yet you amount to nothing.

It's like placing birthday makeup on a potato sack.

As the tears kept streaming down your face, your whimpers grew louder. So much for trying to beat the sad-bridal-dress-shopping troupe.

God, when will you ever get a break?

Knock knock knock

Before you could even compose yourself with the little amount of time you had, the door was opened and someone barged in. “Y’know— if you’re gonna invite us, be respectful of other people's time. We’ve been sitting outside like a deer in headlights because you decided to dress yourself in that hideous mermaid tail–”

Mitsuki moaned on and on until she raised her head, and as her eyes fixed on your broken position; she was left speechless.

“Oh… um.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry,” you mumbled with a hick in your breath. As you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, you then placed them on the sides of your neck. You stared at Mitsuki’s speechless look, unable to care for how she might scold you next.

The mother then let out a sigh before she reached into her purse. As she rummaged around, she found a package of napkins and opened them with haste. Handing them to you, you reached out with hesitance before you took them from her grasp.

“You know that dress is designer?” she deadpanned.

“Gee whiz! I don’t think I thought of that,” you spoke a cutting remark as venom oozed from each word.

“Who are you talking to?” Mitsuki scowled at your remark. You couldn't help but break out into a strained laughter at her words. “I’m talking to a woman who thinks I’ll never be good for their son!” You exclaimed with an anguished, teary smile.

Mitsuki jumped at your exclamation…

“I’m talking to someone who has only met me once, and now they have to call me their daughter-in-law, knowing they’d rather drop dead! Someone who knows that me and Katsuki should’ve never been together. Someone who is just as confused as I am, because we both know that whatever Katsuki sees in me is a lie!”

Your voice harshly trembled with each agonizing word, “is that what you wanted to hear?”

Mitsuki was unable to utter another word.

“I admit it! I’m a fucking fraud! I’m just some girl who’s trying to hold on to this false sense of happiness and drain it for whatever it’s worth because something always tells me it’ll be worth it. And it never fucking is!”

“Failure after failure, and I still don’t know what my purpose is on this earth! I’ll never be good enough for the life I’ve always dreamed of, the life where me and your son are in love and are getting married happily. Not by some phony contract!”

Mitsuki growled at your words, “what contract?”

“The…stupid-fucking marriage contract! This whole marriage is a sham!” You cried out. Mitsuki lets out a breath and begins to ponder around the dressing room, taking in the words you’ve spoken.

“Your son wanted some shot at normalcy and roped me into all of this mess. And you know what’s crazy? I said yes because I didn’t want to lose my job! My one shot of living the life I always dreamed, hanging by the thread of a shitty NDA and a seven-carat ring!”

Your words sunk deep into his mother's chest, weighing her down one by one, until she was left leaning against the wall with her hands cradling her face.

“And you know what’s even worse? I used to fucking hate his guts! But now…”

But now… what? You were silent.

The room hung heavy with silence, a palpable weight that seemed to press down on the both of you, muffling every breath and stifling any attempt at speech. The stillness was deafening, a stark contrast to the lively conversation that had filled the space moments earlier. An eerie hush blanketed the room as if the very air had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation of something yet to come.

Mitsuki’s hands drag from her face and her eyes bore into your disheveled state. Standing back up, she then neared towards you and then threw her purse down on the floor.

Unable to look into her eyes, your knees fall weak and you lower to the floor. Following suit, Mitsuki lowers herself and sits on the floor with you. “Listen, about my son…”

“Since the moment he was a young boy, I always knew he’d be destined for greatness. He was such a bright and confident spirit. Very sure in himself and his purpose in life

But ever since the war.”

You notice the drop in her tone, you nice her let out a defeated breath. She shook her head and continued to speak.

“That spark left him.”

“What do you mean?” You spoke softly.

“When I saw my son in the hospital— all his life was sucked out of him. His eyes were dead and he just looked out the window. Then the next moment he burst into tears…” Mitsukis voice wavered as her throat began to tighten, taking herself back to that dreadful day. 

“He never told me why he cried but I could put two and two together.”

Mitsuki wiped her tears with her finger, trying to gain back her composer. “Why was he crying?” you asked.

“Because he’s tired.”

Your brows were furrowed, eyes concentrating on her face. A heavy silence blanketed over the both of you, broken by the sound of a sniffle. “I knew at that moment I had lost my son forever. He’s not the same bright little boy anymore, he’s distant, reserved, and he’s completely shut out me and his father.”

“I apologize for how we’ve treated you.”

You turned to see Katsuki's mother, Mitsuki, looking out with a rueful expression. Despite her blunt words, you detected a certain softness there.

"I was the one who pushed him into heroics from a young age," she continued with a sigh. "Katsuki always had a...driven personality, even as a little kid. I figured that channeling it into becoming a pro hero would be good for him."

Mitsuki shook her head. "But I look at that son of mine now and I can't help but wonder if I steered him wrong somewhere along the way."

"With how angry and arrogant he is, maybe I should've pushed him into a different hobby," Mitsuki lamented. "Something where he could put that intensity to better use than constantly fighting and yelling."

She turned to you then, giving you an appraising look. "You must be a real saint to put up with that spitfire attitude of his. So, I understand you hate him–”

“I don’t hate him… I feel the exact opposite, actually.”

“So then what do you feel?”

“I feel like he’s worthy… worthy of love beyond his own comprehension.”

Mistuki nods in silence, “and I know that he’s been hurt in the past, and he’s willing to give this another try. And I’m happy for him because he’s just like any other person on earth with the right to experience love. Heroic title or not… I’m glad he was able to find something close to that with me.”

You showed a soft smile, satisfied that you were finally able to get that off your chest.

Mitsuki smiles back as she then rests her hand on your shoulder. You looked up to meet her gaze, falling into the familiar crimson irises.

“No matter how this marriage came to be,” she spoke, her voice thick with earnest emotion. “Whether it was by chance or by contract…” She gave your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “The way my son looks at you tells me all I need to know.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears at her words, overwhelmed by the depth of her acceptance. “You two kids have found something real,” she continues firmly. “As parents, that’s the only thing we could hope for— that our children find genuine love and devotion.” Her smile turned impish, “even if it is with that hotheaded son of mine.”

A teary giggle bubbled up from your chest. An arm swept around your shoulders, and Mitsuki hugged you close in a warm embrace. “As long as you two have each other… that’s all that matters to an old lady like me.”

You pulled away from her embrace and showed her a smile, “thank you.”

Mitsuki chuckled before shuffling on the floor. “Now, let's get you up! My legs are killing me.”

As you both rise from the floor, you look at each other in a comfortable silence.

After Mitsuki finished gushing about how beautiful the wedding dress looked on you, she gave you an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"Alright, let me give you some privacy to try on the next one," she said with a warm smile. "I'll be right outside if you need any help with the zipper or laces."

You nodded gratefully as Mitsuki slipped out of the fitting room, leaving you to carefully remove the lace gown. Just as you had stepped into the next dress sample, a sharp knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" you called out, doing a little shimmy to pull the dress up over your hips.

"It's me," came your sister's muffled voice from the other side. She didn't sound pleased.

Furrowing your brow, you quickly zipped and smoothed the dress before cracking open the door. Your sister's frown deepened as she looked at you over.

"Sis? What's wrong?" you asked with a tinge of worry. "Did something happen?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Oh, nothing... except I just got a call from mom. Apparently, she's refusing to come dress shopping because, and I quote, 'That unstable brute isn't good enough for my baby.'"

You felt your jaw drop as realization set in. "Wait... she's boycotting my wedding dress shopping because of Katsuki?" 

A beat of silence passed between you before your sister's stony expression cracked and she let out a barking laugh.

"Leave it to Mom to find the most dramatic way to voice her dislike of your fiance," she giggled, shaking her head. "The scandal of it all!"

Unable to help yourself, you soon joined in the laughter, doubling over at the sheer ridiculousness of your mother's actions. Trust her to make a fuss at every turn about your perfectly wonderful relationship.

"Well, her loss then!" you managed between gasping breaths. "We'll just have to celebrate without her negativity!"

“Speaking of that… I can't wait to see his face when you say no and embarrass him in front of thousands! It’s what the brute deserves.” She chuckled.

You chose not to respond, and she took notice of that.

“About that… this whole elaborate plan— I think we should give it a rest.” You spoke firmly. Your sister shot you a look of disgust, “excuse me?”

“All I’m saying is… I’ve gotten to know him a bit more and—”

“You’ve fallen in love with the prick?” Your sister’s voice raised. You frown at her words, too embarrassed to argue back at her. A distressed break of laughter falls from her chest, “I fucking knew it!”

“I knew you’d find a way to mess this up and ditch me! As per usual” she spat. A look of disbelief cascaded over your face, “ditch you?” you asked.

“Yeah! Y’know— you go to the perfect school, get the perfect job, the apartment, the husband.” Your sister snarled as she pointed at the wedding dress. “And you leave the people you knew the longest behind to pick up the scraps!”

“And you wonder why you had to pick up scraps? Because you decided to run away and live your life without us! Leaving me to do all the work! So yeah, something good is finally happening to me and I’m gonna take advantage of that!

It’s not my fault you were a lost cause!” You yelled in anger.

Your sister's eyes went wide at the biting remark that had slipped out in the heat of your argument. "Did you really just say that to me?" she asked in disbelief, shaking her head slowly. 

For a moment, an awkward silence hung in the air as you stubbornly avoided her gaze. But then her expression hardened and she let out a derisive chuckle, taking a step closer until she was mere inches from your face.

"You're going to regret those words, sis," she said in a low, dangerous tone. "I don't take that kind of insult lightly, especially from family."

You refused to be intimidated, squaring your shoulders as you met her glare head-on. "Well then, if you know what's good for you, don't bother coming to my wedding," you retorted.

Her eyes flashed with fury before she gave a mocking laugh. "Oh, I'll be there alright. And you'll wish I wasn't by the time I'm through with you."

Refusing to be baited further, you simply shrugged one shoulder coolly. "Suit yourself. But any scene you cause, I'm holding you responsible.”

"We'll see about that," she hissed venomously. With one last withering look, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving you to anxiously play with the skirt of your dress.

Beneath the veneer of the joyous celebration raged a storm of bitter envy and resentment. Lurking in the shadows was the black sheep sister— a stark contrast to you. While you basked in the warmth of acceptance by Bakugo's hero circle, your sisters' lives had been a vortex of misery and poor decisions.

Cast out by their parents years ago, she found herself adrift and desperate on the streets. A chance encounter with a nefarious villain gang seemed her only lifeline, despite the cost. Slowly but surely, she buried herself deeper into their seedy underworld— committing petty crimes, and gathering intel, all to pay off her mounting debts owed to the merciless criminals.

What should have been her salvation became a noose around her neck. The more she witnessed your charmed life and success, the more her resentment mutated into a toxic obsession. The favoritism, the accolades, the love from the famous Dynamight— it all fanned the flames of her hatred.

When she discovered her pathetic sister had secured the heart of the renowned hero, something snapped inside Akari. She could never truly find happiness knowing you had achieved the perfect life. If she couldn't have that perfection for herself, she would ensure you burned with her in misery.

Trading villain information about Dynamight and his colleagues became her twisted obsession. Your sister bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike - when she could sacrifice her sister on the altar of her malicious envy. Ruin both their lives with one brutal act, while settling her debts and finally living the life she deserved. 

But as you seamlessly got accepted by your fiance's friend group, seeing the genuine love and joy surrounding the both of you, it unraveled the last threads of your sister's unraveling sanity. Her fingers tightened around the serrated blade she'd been concealing, her eyes glittering with madness. If she could never attain that happiness for herself, then you didn't deserve to either.

She was done watching her sister have everything while she wallowed in darkness. One way or another, the path of perfection you walked would be drenched in ashes and ruin—

she would die trying.

I know the chapter's short, but I'm saving a big juicy chapter for the ending!

— lovelyiida

TAG LIST ❥: @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish , @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07s , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo , @sanemishina , @snxwycloud , @cosmic-rainstorm , @venus-xxoo , @lavender99 , @iluv-ace , @artfulthoughtsblog , @thatcreepycat , @lavalampfullofsoup , @starxsage , @mikestuffffs , @kazuumii , @slut4donghyuck , @sikuthealien , @grinnwolph , @geniejunn , @the-dumpster-fire-of-life , @neoclb , @camilo-uwu , @cheesetouch101 , @sinyaaa , @pearlywhitefics , @spitfireball , @attractivepie

[coolshadowtwins]

I have this au that just kinda… drops off half way through, which is why I haven’t posted it before. But I can’t think of anything else for it, so you get what little there is!

SXY manages to survive the poison when giving birth. Maybe it wasn’t as strong, maybe she managed to cut it off early enough, maybe LBH’s demon blood helped. Who knows. The point is, she is now half dead instead of fully dead, in a lot of pain, and has a newborn baby because she just gave birth! She’s just thinking about doing her original plan- sending LBH down the river- when a nice washer woman comes along and finds her.

I’m going to call her Ms Luo for this, since she doesn’t have a name in canon. Ms Luo is a kind woman! She’s kind of enough to take in a baby she has found in the wilderness, and she’s kind enough to take in this dying, half feral cultivator and her newborn baby as well!

SXY doesn’t trust it- obviously. But she doesn’t get much of a say when she falls unconscious, does she, hmmm? And she stays in and out of unconsciousness for the next few days, at least. The poi didn’t kill her, but it did mess her up. I imagine for this au it would limit her lower mobility, if it was trying to kill the baby. Some bad nerve damage there.

But Ms Luo is here! She doesn’t have much, but she does care for the baby as SXY is unconscious. She tries to get medication for SXY as well, but isn’t successful. Just as well- normal medication wouldn’t do much for what’s wrong anyway.

And this is the new normal that SXY wakes up to- a week plus later, her cultivation (which also would have taken a hit) having done its best at repairing the damage, her lover and the father of her child either dead or sealed away out of reach, and at the mercy of this random washerwoman.

She’s not getting any better until she could see a sect doctor, preferably one of the best ones. But that’s never going to happen- she’s wanted now, surely! Demonic sympathizers were never treated well. (The cultivation world thinks she’s dead, tragically killed by TJL. But she doesn’t know this yet.)

So she does the only thing she can- hang around and help Ms Luo out. She can’t leave, not with her mobility issues, nor would she be able to provide for her baby. But she can stay here, under the kindness of this woman, and try and help her out.

She starts to help wash the clothes- don’t have to be standing for parts of that! To save on food, she focuses her limited cultivation so she doesn’t have to eat the limited supplies they have. She’s terrifying, and she’s uses that to her advantage when intimidating Ms Luo’s shitty boss.

Ms Luo repays her by not only letting her live there, but also helping with LBH, giving SXY a new name to hide with, and her friendship. (SXY will never admit it, but she never had a lot of friends. Having one in Ms Luo was… nice)

LBH, meanwhile, is absolutely loving being raised by two moms. He’s learning to cook from Ms Luo, and learning cultivating from SXY. What else would a young boy need?

And then LBH is ten, and Ms Luo gets sick. Like, really sick. Nothing SXY, in her limited medical knowledge, does helps her. The town doesn’t have a clinic, and the nearest one is a while away. Not only that, they don’t have the money to go. SXY can see only one way to help her friend- go to the one place that (probably) wouldn’t turn her away for being a criminal when there’s a life of the line. CQM.

Cue a travel montage of SXY (who has limited mobility), Ms Luo (who is deathly sick), and LBH (who is ten), trying to get to CQM before it is too late.

They do make it there- only to be stopped at the stairs. They aren’t stopped by an actual person! They are stopped by the actual stairs. SXY can’t walk them. Ms Luo can’t walk them.

That leaves LBH, ten and scruffy and probably looking too thin, to be the one to climb the giant staircase, up to the sect in the heavens.

The last thought I have of this au is the funny image of whoever happens to be at the top of the stairs that morning, being greeted by what looks to be a street urchin tell you that his mother is the long thought dead SXY and that she’s down the stairs, along with his other mother (by the way, he has two), and both are dying. Would you believe him?

(I have nothing after this. Please, tell me in reblogs and replies about how you would continue this)

[fieldofdaisiies]

Modern AU - Azriel worries there are too many constrasts between him and Eris, but he would never address it, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend. Obviously Eris notices and they... for @azrisweek | azrisweek masterlist | read on ao3 | no warnings

“Are you ready, my love?” Eris‘ voice is laden with impatience when it reaches Azriel through the bathroom door. 

Azriel presses his lips in a thin line.

He technically is ready. But also not. Appearance wise he has been ready for nearly an hour, mentality wise…not. This is not for him. This whole rich people get together isn’t for him, has never been and he feels nervousness bloom rapidly in his chest at the thought of it.

“Five minut—,” he calls back, but is interrupted when the door opens behind him (damn him for accepting the no-lock bathroom doors). 

The door hits the wall with a silent thump, and Eris, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, is revealed, his appearance absolutely immaculate. Azriel nearly gasps, would have done so under different circumstances. If he wasn’t so…stressed and uncomfortable at this moment.

Eris steps forward and leans against the doorframe, gives his boyfriend a once-over, then smiles. “I would say you are very ready, my love.” He wants to walk up to Azriel and softly smack his backside, but when he sees the look on his lover‘s face, he immediately stops himself.

“Tell me what’s going on.” No question, an order. He doesn’t like dancing around topics — any sort of problems or issues or discomforts should be addressed immediately.

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbles silently, not able to meet Eris‘ gaze through the mirror. His eyes are lowered to the sink he has his hands braced on. His scarred and ugly hands, marred forever from an accident in his childhood. A shudder courses down his spine.

“I won’t leave this bathroom until you tell me.”

“But the department dinner, we can’t be late,” Azriel grumbles.

Eris snorts, and shakes his head, his arms curling around Azriel’s waist, his body flush against his lovers. “Tell me.”

Azriel straightens a little when he leans into his boyfriend’s hold, his own hands sliding over Eris‘ lower arms. “Do you really want to bring me? Wouldn’t you like to be seen with someone more…someone who is better?”

“Better?” Eris repeats, tone tinged with disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Better at what?”

Azriel frowns. “Just better than me!”

“Better than my stunning and marvellous boyfriend?”

Azriel wants to hum and accept the compliment, but he can’t, not right now. Not when doubts gnaw so heavily on his heart he finds it even hard to breathe.

“Someone who fits in better than I do.”

“Why wouldn’t you fit in?” Eris rests his chin atop Azriel’s shoulder. “You are there with me. As my partner, my plus one. I won’t leave your side all evening, there is nothing to worry about.”

But there is so much to worry about, Azriel thinks and closes his eyes. 

Last time when he joined Eris for one of these fancy dinners, he felt immensely ashamed. There were at least three forks and two spoons and only God knows how many knives around his plate and he had no idea which one to use for what. Eris explained the table customs to him, not minding at all that Azriel didn’t know, but for Azriel it was still an awkward situation. One he doesn’t want to repeat. But one he has been replaying in his mind many times.

Because Azriel often finds himself wondering if he truly fits into Eris‘ world. He wasn’t born into a rich family like Eris. His mother was a single parent and while growing up they only ever had the bare minimum. 

Eris has always had a different life — he has always known what fortune meant, growing up as the prime minister’s son and now working as a renowned doctor. How and why he chose to be someone like him, still often surprises Azriel.

“Hm?” Eris asks, not yet having received an answer from his boyfriend.

“Just my usual doubts,” Azriel answers. He has to smile a little when lips brush the side of his neck, sending wrong signals to a southern part of his body. Eris just knows which levers to push inside of his boyfriend to distract him from his bad thoughts. Most of the time it truly works wonders, but other times…other times he needs more than that.

Either them talking for hours, or Eris holding Azriel throughout the whole night, kissing his hair, gently rubbing his back with his warm hand. 

But there isn’t time for any of these things now. They need to leave.

“Don‘t worry, I‘m happy to be your plus one tonight.”

The simply lie is needed because he doesn’t want Eris to be sad. He wants Eris to enjoy this dinner and he wants to be a good boyfriend. Eris’ should have the life he deserves, because Azriel knows that growing up —despite never having to worry about money— wasn’t easy for Eris either and if there is one thing Eris now truly deserves then it is happiness.

“You know I always worry, Azriel,” Eris mumbles. “Especially when it comes to you and your happiness. I want you to be—”

“I know.” Azriel forces a smile onto his lips and finally meets Eris‘ gaze through the mirror. “We‘ll talk when we get home.”

———————

His hands have turned so sweaty that the champagne glass nearly slides out of his palm, and a buzzing sound borne from nervousness starts in his ears. Carefully, Azriel places the glass on one of the cocktail tables, and glances around him, hoping to make out his boyfriend in the bustling crowd of all of Eris‘ coworkers.

Where the hell is he? Azriel asks himself. Eris had promised him to stay with him all night, but then he went to the restroom and hasn’t returned since. He is probably talking to someone… Azriel ponders and absentmindedly rubs his palm over his jaw.

While Eris is kind of a social butterfly at such gatherings, Azriel would always love to just morph into the wall or disappear completely — they contrast like night and day.

Maybe I’m really not the right one for someone like Eris? They are similar in many aspects, but also as different as cats and dogs in many other ways. In too many ways. What if they won’t work out in the end?

Azriel loves Eris more than anything, more than his own life. He  knows the sentiment is returned. But what if in the end, they find out that their differences are too big to truly lead a life together?

Azriel shakes his head, and is brought back to the moment when someone bumps into his shoulder. A short woman with black hair whom he knows as Doctor Amren. He only knows about her from stories that Eris told him — apparently she looks much younger than she actually is, and is dating one of the doctors in training, Varian.

Eris, although he always tries to deny it, loves gossip. Just like Azriel. The corners of his mouth lift the tiniest bit. He would also never admit it, so at least this is something they have in common (among other things, of course). 

Despite that small comfort, the doubts won’t leave Azriel. After checking once more to see if he can find Eris somewhere in the crowd, but still not catching sight of him, he knows he doesn’t want to stay here.

He needs a moment for himself. And since this place is filled with people, he knows he needs to get out. There are three options: restroom, balcony or the elevator. The elevator sounds like the least rational and so does the balcony where everyone can see him and maybe get the idea to walk out to him and talk to him. So restroom is his only hope to find solace there and catch a moment to calm his mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Azriel?” He can hear Eris outside the door, and decides that it is quite silly to stay hidden here and let his boyfriend keep on searching. So he does the only thing he considers rational and mature. 

“I‘m here,” he says matter-of-factly, feeling stupid the moment the words leave him. Of course, he is here.

“Can I come in?”

Azriel doesn’t answer him, only turns the key and wordlessly opens the door. His shoulders are slightly drooped, the corners of his mouth downturned.

“I‘m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I had to relieve myself.”

Eris shoots Azriel an incredulous look, not one bit buying that poor lie. “I have been looking for you for at least fifteen minutes, my love.”

Azriel shrugs a shoulder, somehow at a loss for words now that he feels an immense amount of shame creep in again.

He is an adult and not a little child, but with how he is behaving now he definitely resembles a little five year old boy more than a 35 year old man.

“Let me show you something.” Eris uncrosses his arms and reaches out his hand. 

Reluctantly, Azriel agrees, glad that Eris changed the topic. He follows after his boyfriend, his hand sliding into his Eris‘, and slowly and with a lack of motivation he is trailing after Eris until they are outside on one of the large glass balconies. The cool night air embraces him like a cloak and Azriel inhales a deep breath, letting the crisp air cool his racing mind and heavy heart.

He doesn’t really know why they are out here, but he likes it. The thick windows drown out most of the noises — the chatters and music— from the inside and there are no people here.

He glances around, trying to figure out what Eris wanted to show him or if he just wanted to bring him out here for Azriel to relax? There is nothing. Only skyscrapers surrounding them, so Azriel guesses it is the latter option.

“What did you want to show me?” he asks nevertheless.

“Nothing.” Eris shrugs a casual shoulder, then also reaches for Azriel’s other hand, taking it into his and brushing his thumb over the back of Azriel’s. “I only wanted to talk to you. And for you to tell me what is going on.”

Azriel lowers his chin to his chest and suddenly feels even more ashamed and disappointed in himself — in the end he really managed to ruin the evening for Eris. Again…

“Our earlier conversation is still on my mind.”

“Oh, Azriel,” Eris begins to chuckle. “I told you that there would not be a single person that I would rather have here with me than you. You are perfect and amazing, and I love you. And I love having you here. I love having you here with me.”

“That’s not the problem, Eris.” Azriel’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands, his large, scarred hands in Eris pale and neatly manicured ones. Eris‘ are slimmer, softer, his fingers long and boney and his caress always tender. Not like his own which is somehow…brutish, he thinks.

“I don’t fit into your world, Eris,” Azriel answers wistfully. “This,” —he removes one hand from Eris‘ hold to tug at the collar of his tux— “isn’t me. This doesn’t fit me. I look absolutely silly and—”

“Beautiful.” A sad smile appears on Eris‘ lips. “But I understand, and I am sorry.”

Azriel’s eyes open wide, and he flashes Eris an incredulous look. “Wait! Why are you sorry? I just ruined your perfect evening with dinner and—”

“I‘m sorry for forcing you to come with me when you clearly feel uncomfortable. I should have asked, should have noticed earlier that you don’t like these sorts of things. And honestly…the only perfect thing about this dinner is spending time with you.”

“That‘s not true.”

“It is.” Eris hums, and then pecks his boyfriend’s lips. “It really is. I don’t care much about this dinner either. But I care about you, and spending time with you — time you enjoy as well.” His lips coast to the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “Let’s get out of here, and get McDonald‘s?”

“My beloved doctor, you always say it is unhealthy!” Azriel laughs. “And you don’t like—”

“It is unhealthy, but if it means that we are sitting in my car together for hours, talking and eating, in an empty fast food restaurant parking lot, then I love it.”

“Talking and eating?” Azriel cocks a brow, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Rounding it off with sex on the backseat?” Eris grins. “The perfect evening.”

“What will you tell your co-workers?”

“That we are going home. I don’t need to give them a reason.” His hand cradles Azriel‘s cheek and he kisses him softly. “But I can also tell them that my boyfriend has some issues with one of his southern body parts,” —Eris pushes against Azriel to make him aware of exactly which body part he is talking about— “and he desperately wants me to take a look at it.” 

“You are impossible,” Azriel laughs, but is now the one to kiss the other. “I love you.”

——————

“You remember your birthday party?” Eris shoves two fries into his mouth and leans his head against the headrest, looking at Azriel while chewing happily.

“I was quite drunk so you might need to help me a bit,” Azriel chuckles, reaching over to Eris to wipe a droplet of ketchup from the corner of Eris‘ mouth. “What are you getting at?”

“I know exactly how you felt this evening.” Eris curls his fingers around Azriel’s hand before he can pull it back and kisses his knuckles. “I also felt out of place. You, Cass and Rhys and their wives were dancing and partying all night and I asked myself the whole time what I was actually doing there — I don’t like drinking, I don’t like that sort of music, smoking or dancing like this.”

The corners of Azriel’s mouth drop just like his shoulders.

Eris attaches his lips to the back of his boyfriend’s hand again. “But I know why I was there. Because of you. Because I love you, because you are my boyfriend and in a relationship there are always two people and you may not like everything the other likes, but that is alright. It adds variety to the relationship and teaches you that you can and should adapt from time to time.”

Their gazes meet and Eris says in a soft and affectionate tone, “I don’t want you to feel bad for what happened this evening.” 

Azriel presses his lips in a thin line, grinding his teeth hard. “I wanted you to have a good evening.”

“This evening is perfect, Azriel.” The doctor smiles. “And I know we may contrast in a few ways, but that is alright. We love each other, and you despite not wanting to go, coming with me to this dinner proved this to me once more.”

“Don’t you think we contrast too much?”

Eris vehemently shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It would be boring if we were the exact same and liked the exact same things. Relationships and love are all about complementing each other. Sometimes this means doing things for the other you may not like yourself but because you love the other it is alright and acceptable. Making small sacrifices is fine and okay. Of course we shouldn’t completely transform ourselves into a version where we are no longer true to ourselves, but small changes, adaptations…they are alright.”

He pauses for a moment and draws in a deep breath, shoulders and chest lifting, then falling with a loud sigh.

“I love you, Azriel, and nothing will ever change that just because you may not enjoy all the same things I do.”

“I love you,” Azriel whispers, his voice tinged with affection. “And I think…you are right.”

“You think?” Eris raises a brow, a playful smirk on his lips.

“I know you are right because my smart and deadly handsome boyfriend is always right!” Azriel‘s laughter fills the inside of the car and Eris joins in, chest warming and relief seeping into his heart. It is good that they talked. Talking to Eris always helps — already helped at a time where they weren’t even dating yet. 

“Everything’s alright between us?” Azriel asks a little sheepishly, nervous despite the former lightness of the conversation.

Eris smiles behind the napkin he is dabbing his face with. “It is.”

“The evening was really alright?”

“Almost perfect.” Eris grins, tossing the napkin into the bag and a crease appears on Azriel’s forehead. He raises a brow. “Almost?”

The grin turns into a smirk, and playfully flashes in Eris‘ amber eyes. “Get in the back seat.”

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum

thank you so much @chunkypossum & @queercontrarian for beta reading💛

[giamee]

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 prev. OG 5 GUYS INTRO!

masterlist. next. ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

INTRODUCING THE ISLANDERS ...

"i'm ayato, i'm 25 and from inazuma. i work as an accountant (wink). no no just joking don't keep that in-"

"(cough) i work as an accountant, i really love my life to be honest. the thing i love most on this earth is my car- it's a porsche, and the longest i've ever had a girlfriend for is about.... 2 weeks? so good luck to the next one haw haw haw-"

"my type? i like pretty women. let's hope there are some on the show haw haw haw"

"hello!! my name's tighnari, nari for short, i'm 22, and i'm currently studying biochemistry at the akademiya in sumeru"

"i really love being outdoors and nature, so my perfect first date would be a long hike in the woods, or just any physical activity. i think you can really tell a lot about a person when you're out in nature with them"

"so.... i guess that makes my ideal type someone who also loves the outdoors? i have a thing for more nerdy girls, too- it's something i've noticed. i just find it so cute when a girl has glasses"

".... an ick? if she litters, it's an instant no from me"

"i'm alhaitham, i'm 25, i'm from sumeru and i'm a court stenographer"

"to be completely honest, i'm here because i lost a bet with my friend. he thinks i need to try harder to find a girlfriend so i'll see how it goes on this show. it would be funny to see the look on his face if i do end up meeting a girl i like, i guess."

"a fun fact about myself? i can type 120 words per minute"

"i don't think i've really struggled with romance. there's been many girls who have tried to get with me, i'm just not really the type to get with someone for the sake of it. does that sound like i'm bragging? oh well."

"i don't think i have a type, either. i like who i like, simple as that."

"how's my hair looking? ok, good."

"i'm kaeya but you can call me handsome, im 24, and i live in mondstadt. i work in sales, so that definitely helps when i'm chatting up girls, heh."

"my go to pick up line? do you believe in love at first sight or do i have to walk past you again? (chuckle) nah, nah, i'm joking. i don't really use pickup lines, i'll just buy a girl a drink and we get talking and then... you know. it's a pretty good tactic. or maybe it's just me, heh."

"i like women who are confident in themselves. i don't want to have to spend all my time reassuring her, you know? and a girl who can keep me on my toes, someone who can beat me at my own game, you get me?"

"i have yet to meet a girl like that, i guess that's the reason why i've never had a proper girlfriend."

"my name's xiao, i'm 26, and i'm a tattoo artist from liyue"

"i get told that i look young for my age quite a lot- i guess it's to do with the height? it'll pay off when i'm 40 and still looking 20, at least"

"my type? ... to be really honest, i love girls with thick thighs and pretty smiles. there's nothing better than that"

"an ick? girls who go around saying if he's under 6 foot i don't want him- they're missing out on some good dick because they can't pull their heads out of their asses, that's for sure... oh shit, am i allowed to say that?"

𝜗𝜚 gia's notes :: and now the five guys! all the og islanders are now introduced 🥳🥳

[bidisasterevankinard]

I love that both times, in 7x1 and in 7x10 Buck couldn't fix situation between Eddie and Chris. Because it's not his to fix. Both times the center of the problem it's only between Eddie and Chris: their family and their connection to Shannon. It's no one else's business to fix it. It's only on two of them. And first time Eddie takes matters in his hands after he tried to run from it, passing it to Buck, and I love that even Ryan said it doesn't add maturity to Eddie.

Eddie though Buck can fix it for him, he tried to pass it to person, who he wants to believe could do it, so he shouldn't deal with it. But Buck couldn't. Because Shannon and her ghost in Diaz family it's not his to touch or talk about. He barely knew her.

And ok first time Eddie dealt with situation by finally passing Chris Shannon's letter so Chris could see his mom's reasoning to leave them. And he thinks that situation was fine because Chris put Shannon's photo back and stopped date all the girls. But he missed that the problem was deeper. Chris STILL struggles with the death of his mom now when he's old enough to understand how little memories he has of her. Poor baby "doesn't remember her voice anymore". And it's big, huge. But Eddie thinks everything is fine because he doesn't see the deep pain Chris holds in his heart, or he doesn't know how to help and doesn't try to react till the situation demands from him (like Chris dating several girls)

And then another situation. Poor Chris saw woman who look like his mom. Who hugged his dad while he came home with his dad's girlfriend he liked enough to hang out without his dad. And Eddie again thinks that he can deal with it of he just ask Buck. But he's wrong again. Buck ofc talks to Chris, tries to reason with him that it's normal that parents make mistakes, but Chris refuses to listen. And he deserves it. He is hurting by his dads decision, he doesn't understand it. And this decision hits hard on problem with his mom, on his abandonment issue he has. So he wants out. And I think Eddie should have tried talk to Chris himself. At least near the closed door. Just explain himself. Maybe it would have stopped Chris from leaving. Seeing that HIS DAD does something to make the situation better. But Eddie just panics and ask other people fix his family. And that's the problem. Until he himself wouldn't take matters in his hands, his family, his relationship with Chris would go further away from him

I hope in season 8 Eddie will actively himself fix his relationship with Chris and finally work on ghost of Shannon in his love life and his relationship with Chris. He should go and talk to Chris in Texas, he should show his parents HE IS THE PARENT.

Eddie should fix his family without any others help. Even from Buck

[materassassino]

Q or U, whoever you decide!

Thank you for this one! 🥺

Minific prompts

U - Coming Home

“Can you stop fidgeting?”

Joe blinks, jerked forcefully out of his reverie by Andy’s forceful hand on his knee. He hadn’t even realised it had been bouncing. He looks at her, and she groans.

“Not the eyes, Joe...”

“I’m sorry!” He isn’t. “I can’t help it!” That’s the truth.

A nervous energy is prickling just under his skin, lightning in his blood. He got the window seat on the train, so he’s been staring out at the miles going past, impatient to the point of near madness. It’s been a month. A whole month. How could anyone expect him to not start pacing the too-small cage of his own mind when his soul has been missing half of itself?

Separation has always made him twitchy, and wistful, and prone to morose sighing. Andy learnt this centuries ago, and still she insisted.

(He knows why. She wants time with them, with each of them alone, something sacred and only theirs. And he’s loved this, just him-and-Andy, like those centuries ago when they wandered across the entirety of North Africa while Nicky and Quynh went East. And Andy knows better than to think he hasn’t loved this, that he doesn’t want more of it. But, well… Nicky.)

He shrugs helplessly. Nicky is always present in his thoughts, in time with his heartbeat, even when Joe isn’t actively thinking of him.

She sighs.

“At least it’s not poetry,” she grumbles, sliding lower in her seat with folded arms and outstretched legs.

“The poetry is for him, where it isn’t wasted,” Joe says primly. She snorts at that, bumping her shoulder into his.

--

It is night by the time they arrive at their destination, the small country station almost completely black. They’re the only ones who get off there, stumbling tiredly off the train and into the dark. A car’s headlights turn on.

“Hey!” Nile calls from the window, waving. Joe brightens at seeing her, but his heart sinks when he realises she’s alone. He tries not to pout as he heaves his bag into the boot and settles in the back seat. He’s not sure he manages, but it’s dark enough that Nile probably doesn’t notice. It’s not her fault, anyway, it’s entirely his.

“Have fun without us?” Andy asks.

“He cheats at rummy,” Nile replies, sounding completely and utterly betrayed, making Joe burst out laughing.

The drive back to the safehouse is long and, to Joe, incredibly slow. Time is molasses now, his destination so close and yet so stubbornly out of reach. The road is narrow and packed in on either side by dense forest, so whenever they encounter another vehicle it’s a stalemate as they stare each other down, daring the other to back up.

Joe drums his fingers on his knee, toe tapping, as a bus stands its ground and waits, like it has all the time in the world, for Nile to ease into the sliver of grass on the side. They nearly lose a wing mirror to a tree trunk.

Finally they make their turning, and relief settles on Joe like sunlight. The light in the kitchen is on, and Joe sees his silhouette move from one window to another.

He’s out of the car before Nile’s even pulled the handbrake. He grabs both their bags, because he’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t, and keeps his eyes on the front door. It opens as he reaches it.

Oh, light of his life! A thousand poems couldn’t describe the vision before him! It is as if the shadows are lifted from his sight!

He dumps the bags on the doorstep and draws Nicky into his arms, burying his face in his neck.

“Halabik,” Nicky says, just the tiniest hint of reproach for not even getting inside the damn house, but Joe doesn’t care. He makes a plaintive noise against Nicky’s warm skin, breathing in deep, and beneath the smell of cooking and his cheap-ass three-in-one bodywash is that scent that is purely, perfectly Nicky. The scent of home.

Nicky pushes him away gently, earning himself another noise like a small woodland creature being oppressed, but it’s simply to plant both his hands on the sides of Joe’s head and pull him into a kiss. Joe melts into it, melts into the taste of Nicky and the warmth of his lips and body, and he is so ready to simply drag this man into bed and wrap himself in him in any and all ways possible.

“Let us in, you fools!” Andy barks, planting a boot on Joe’s ass – not hard, but a nudge.

They roll with it, breaking the kiss with a laugh, but refuse to part as Nicky drags Joe backwards into the house. Nile is the one to lug Joe’s bag in.

“It’s only been a month!” she says, shaking her head.

“We’re woefully co-dependent,” Joe says, making Nicky chuckle.

“There’s dinner,” Nicky says. “We were waiting for you two.”

Joe can’t resist planting another kiss on him, and a nuzzle for good measure. He can smell it, fragrant and mouth-watering, the kamounia Nicky always makes for a homecoming, regardless of where they are and what the weather is. Beef, most likely, out here, but Joe wouldn’t complain whatever it was.

It is late, but the good food and the bottle of wine ease the exhaustion from the sharp tension of travel to the mellow, warm bonelessness of coming home. Nicky hooks his ankle around Joe’s, smiles that soft, beautiful smile, and Joe lets it wash over him, lets the relief flow through him. He knows his bed won’t be agonisingly empty tonight, and his dreams will settle.

He leans into Nicky, pressing their shoulders together, and sighs in contentment.

[riririnnnn]

You know, majority of the Fandom including myself seem to have forgotten that another match is going on alongside BM Vs PxG:

Nagi has been miserable since the BM match and considering this panel:

I can place a safe bet that THIS is probably the BEST time to reveal Nagi's backstory. I mean, this has happened earlier too: a brilliant player goes downhill -> backstory revealed -> the player makes a comeback. Of course, there are chances that Nagi will make a comeback without his backstory being revealed, but I can't think of any other better moment than what we currently have.

I understand that many of you are getting confused now like Nagi's backstory? Huh? Don't we know a lot about him already—we, literally, have a spin-off Manga of him!?

And you are not wrong, but it ISN'T his backstory—it is just his story BEFORE he got into Blue Lock/Soccer while a backstory explains why a person is the way they are, and we surely don't know why Nagi is the way he is.

You might argue that, "Some people are just lazy without any reason," and I agree, I wholeheartedly agree with it and that's exactly what I thought about Nagi too until I saw this:

And my whole life turned upside down.

I did know about his parents' Laissez-faire method way before, but at that time I didn't think about the effect it might have had on Nagi's character as a whole.

Of course, I don't have a first-hand experience in parenting, but I do have a first-hand experience in being parented—some children are just naturally independent and CAN do things on their own at the first try (my sibling) while some children NEED someone to guide them around until they become comfortable enough (me), so considering Nagi's behaviour, I kinda think that hands off parenting wasn't the one for him 'cause this:

isn't exactly something to be happy about, you know. Yes, yes, I understand the deeper meaning of it, but you get the gist of what I'm trying to say, right?

Speaking from personal experience again, people who had to take care of themselves from a young age and had to carry their own responsibilities usually turn into a very hardworking, considerate and kind person or they become 'lazy' like Nagi—they burnout.

One more thing to note about the burnout 'lazy' people are that they are very efficient in whatever they do 'cause they used to have so many things to do in their hands that they just naturally happen to follow the least energy consuming path which in turn becomes a habit—no wonder Nagi got into Hakuho and is usually good in whatever he does.

Further, I do think that some times, his parents kind of nearly appear neglectful:

If my calculations are right, then he was only 15 years old when he moved out into a new place in a new city on his own. He was also fresh outta middle school! Crazy!

And no, we actually haven't gotten any 'neglected child' backstory till now—from a broader perspective, Kaiser had abuse as his backstory while Lorenzo had abandonment as his backstory.

Him being an unintentionally neglected child also explains why he went along with whatever Reo told him to do.

You see, judging by Episode Nagi Chapter 22.5 alone, he seems like someone who appreciates actions and words, and that's exactly what Reo has been doing from the start. Reo has shown his efforts openly to him—he is very verbal which was something Nagi's parents, probably, weren't.

I don't think it's very surprising if someone who is craving for validation and affection for his whole life gets attached to someone who finally gives them everything that they wanted and needed.

What do you guys think?

[unicornpopcorn14]

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Don’t-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.  

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

[atrociousgargamelitis]

No but. Blitzø BEGGING Stolas to not take the book away with tears in his eyes. Completely genuinely swearing he will do anything to keep it.

Think about it. That business is literally the only thing Blitzø has in his life. It's something that's entirely HIS. He was NOT born into it, like with the circus (and even there everyone thought he was useless) and, based on what Striker told him in season 1, I assume that imps have it BAD, like he wasn't supposed to make much out himself. But he did. Without any help, without anyone by his side. I.M.P. is the only thing reminding Blitzø that he is capable of something, ANYTHING, despite what everyone silently told him from the moment he was born. That's not the only thing though. Because of I.M.P., Blitzø has Millie and Moxxie. They are the only ones who look up to him and the fact that they are always by his side, granted because he pays them to be but still, makes Blitzø a better person, or at least it makes him WANT to become a better person. He fucks up, yeah, but with a backstory as tragic as his? Completely logical. He lost literally EVERYTHING, his job, his family, his only friend because of an accident HE caused and he knows there's no way around that guilt for the rest of his life. Can you blame him for being afraid of getting close to someone? He thinks he's poison.

So when he thought Stolas was taking away his only way to conduct his business, when he thought he was going to lose not only I.M.P., the greatest achievement of his life, but also by extension Millie and Moxxie, he panicked. It was the burning circus all over again. Only now he can do something. He can try to do ANYTHING.

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 28. C!M!Sydney (Worship & Yandere)

Pairing: C!M!Sydney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,462 Warnings: worship, yandere, kidnapping, gagging, drool, drinking drool, handjob, rope, religious contexts, surprisingly soft?, somnophilia, dubcon (consent is not stated, assume noncon to be safe, but it depends on how you want to read it.) Prompt(s): 05 — worship + 18 — yandere Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: also very nasty. god im sorry for exposing yall to my secrets LMAO.... i went for something not PIV to keep myself sane, so i hope its at least still enjoyable <3 sydney has so much yandere potential!!! mixed with the religious themes and god <33 big fav ty for letting me ramble a lil!

Heavy footsteps thump through the dark basement, creaky steps announcing his arrival within the dungeon, though soon are overtaken by the buzz of fluorescent lights, flicked on for his own comfort rather than anything as kind as your sight. Humming with his steps, seemingly without a care in the world as he makes his way towards your limp body slowly. Carefully calculated footsteps so as to not frighten you too much— he'd hate a repeat of last week. You were so loud with your wailing, God, barely allowing him to scrape by with a half-assed excuse for his fathers concerns.

That's why you've got the gag now, see? Oh, but he made sure to buy you the softest material, painstakingly picking the prettiest fabric to shut you up with, because you deserve only the best.

"Love?" His voice croaks upon reaching you, your head hanging low for him to tilt at curiously. Asleep? Well, even unconscious you're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen, a sick smile beaming down at you when your drowsy frame refuses to respond to him in any meaningful manner. No matter, he still loves you even when you're not awake. In fact, perhaps a little more than usual, only because you're so easy to dote upon!

Absentmindedly, he kneels before you. Cupping his legs with his arms wrapped around them, simply doting down at you from above. How long have you been down here again... God, he can't quite remember. But love does that to you, doesn't it? Melds all the happy days together, an amalgamation of sobs and kisses in blended days; it's got to have been some time, though. The ropes that bind you to the pillar in the basement have been digging into your skin enough to leave bruising, prompting him to wince down at you. "If only you had listened better..." He tuts to himself, running his thumb feather light over where the rope has slipped a little to reveal your wounds.

He'll have to tighten them later. At least until you can be trusted to roam the basement without supervision.

You know, he's spent his whole life in worship. Praying, begging to a false God for any sort of recognition. Doing his best to live life by the book, avoiding all that threatens to tempt him— but then you came along. Ethereal and blessed in his eyes, just begging to be followed. And so it's no surprise that he was immediately cast aside by the place he once called home, now finding refuge in your doe eyes and tear stained cheeks.

A temptress in your own right, worming your way under his skin so easily; it's no wonder that he soon switched religion. And, determined to prove his worth as a loyal follower of his new God, you, he could think of no better way than to hole you up in the dark dank so as to hold private sermons whenever he so wishes. His affections were already strong to begin with, something akin to fated obsession, right? From the moment you had first spoke to him, setting butterflies ablaze in his tummy— the feeling he's came to understand as love once resembling upset to his sheltered mind. But his feelings only grow the longer he holds you against the pillar, resolved to make you deeply feel just how much he loves you, how strongly he believes in you above all else, until you believe in him too.

But, he's not quite there yet. He can feel it, staring down at you with the kind of intrinsic understanding that only lovers share. That's how he knows he's doing the right thing when he settles on his ass with a soft oof in front of you, taking advantage of your crossed legs to wrap his own at either side of you, scooching closer only to brush stray strands of hair from your pretty face.

Ah, the face of a God. How honoured he feels to be touching you right now, ignoring the twitch in his pants from the scent of you in favour of caressing your cheek. Thumb stroking along it, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to keep his breath contained— you look so sweet right now, all fatigued and sleepy. He'd hate to disturb you too much, and, given how exhausted he is from keeping up appearances in that heathen church, he can scarcely find the energy to do more than stare. Touching you so gently, so delicately, as if he were afraid that any more pressure would prompt you into breaking before him. He loves you so much, enough to kidnap you and keep you hostage in his lonely basement for all eternity, it seems.

Somewhere in his body he knows his actions to be wrong, but the way your bottom lip wobbles before him easily coaxes him out of his rationality, his voice a hushed whisper with:

"Are you dreaming of me? Can you feel the way I touch you? Do you yearn as much as I do?"

The answer, inevitably, is no. No one, including yourself, could ever hope to match his state of desperation, prepared to live through a lifelong battle consisting of solely proving that very same fact to you. The life of a follower, a devout worshipper of all that you are, were, and will be.

When contained within the four walls he's caged you inside, that is.

He'll dress the place up for you, eventually. Gifts and favours, all meant to appease his God. But that'll come later, when you learn to accept his followership the way a God should. You're new to the whole divinity ordeal, so he's cutting you some slack.

But the longer he stares at you lovingly, the harsher his thumb digs into the fat of your cheek, the more his cock twitches with need to prove himself to you. Whether you're awake or not doesn't matter to him, he doesn't need your sobbing to confirm his place by your side— though you do sound oh so pretty when weeping his name. It's just that, well, any time spent with you is time well spent, he thinks. And tonight, he intends on revering you as he does much the same any night.

Free hand hovering over his cock, he settles into the cold stony flooring under him. Shuffling ever closer to you, he's found quite intimately that he can never be too close to you. But he needs only get close enough to reach your fingers right now, interlocking the hand that was on your cheek with your own in a tender display of followship. Of afflicted affection, feeling unable to do anything but cherish your existence.

"My love," He whispers to the lifeless body before him, drinking in the sight of your steady breaths. It's the calmest he gets to view you, so he keeps his touch careful in hopes of stealing more glances. "Allow me some alone time, please.." He huffs, cock already rock hard before you simply from slight touch. Doesn't this mean that you were made for him? Made exclusively for his gratification, for him to abide by, to keep an eye on you to make sure that you're forever safe?

Don't you think he deserves a little repayment in the form of the aforementioned alone time every now and then?

It's not like he's asking for much, lovingly lifting your flaccid hand only to place it against his hard cock, immediately letting out a shaky sigh at the heavenly contact your fingertips offer his bulge. A secret mass, forced upon his sleeping deity in such a perverted way, making your fingers caress his throbbing length because he can, because he knows that deep down you'd want to, right? You'd look upon his soft pout, the way his chest heaves with deep breaths every time he manhandles your fingertips against his own leaking tip, and you'd want to help him like the good little God you are to him, right?

And if not, well, he's very willing to help teach you the right way to behave. He's only been studying Gods his entire life; you had better trust him by now to know what's best for you.

Gradually, he applies pressure on your wrist. Aiding your motions, helping you stroke along his hard cock outline as a means to bond together. "Feels so good, love..." He huffs out against you, voice a tad bit louder due to the sheer amount of pleasure pooling in his tummy, throwing caution to the wind the more you play with him. Even if it's more so his doing, part of his worship is to help, is it not? Assisting your eager fondling by grinding his hips up and against your palm, relishing in the gentleness of your hand contrasting against each harsh throb of his cock. Taking private enjoyment in how good it feels to be so dirty with you, how the act of humping into your palm is not shamed by you, unlike his previous faith. But instead, he feels hedonistic pleasure in every roll of his hips, ass bucking up off the ground once or twice to really dig his leaking tip against your willing hand.

But it's all a bit too good to be true, he thinks. God, the way he could just stay here forever with you if it were possible— but alas, he has a life to live, too. Jealous as he is of your perfect position, able to remain unseen and unnoticed by many, hidden away with your palm on his cock, he stays mindful not to complain too much. After all, if not for his trips outside of such a sacred space, he'd never have been graced by the sight of your pretty gagged face. Cooing softly down at you, still yet fucking his bulge against your unknowing palm, he thinks something that feels so good could never be bad, right?

Not in the least because it's you who's causing his hips to stutter, a broken little whine escaping him at the way you so easily help him feel euphoric, not even needing to be conscious of your efforts to have him a panting mess before you.

"Angel..." Escapes him, and he fucking means it too. His little angel, clipped wings behind your broken back, doing your utmost to make him smile, to keep him happy. He can't help but to shiver into your innocent touch, letting your wrist turn limp once more for but a brief second. "Missed you so— ah, so much—" He ends up moaning, unbuttoning his pants and tugging on them enough to have his cock spring free before your sleeping body. Maybe he played with you a little too roughly the other day...

It's just that he wants to worship you so bad! And so well too, making sure to be so thorough in his prayer sessions that you end up exhausted the next day. But it's okay, he doesn't mind the weak grip of your hand as he instructs your fingers to wrap around his now exposed cock the way he likes, letting you simply feel how hard he throbs for you for a minute or so.

That, and he doesn't want to blow a load immediately. Calming himself down with shallow breaths, idly stroking at your fingers with his own until he feels like he can safely move your hand up and down— slowly. Lazily, almost, leaning back on his free hand so that he has a good view of your body as you're made to jerk him off.

And you feel so good. Too good, really, an uncomfortable weight resting in his chest when he tries his best to live up to the self imposed expectations he holds for himself. Is he even worthy of your touch right now? Hips bucking into your hand turned fleshlight regardless, because he's obsessed with your very existence. How you just feel so right when loosely gripping his cock like that, dozing away to yourself and still offering him such innocent pleasure.

You're down here fisting him off because it's only you who can make him feel this way. So choked up with moans, threatening to tumble from his bitten lips and wake you up with every idle up and down he flicks your wrist into, matching your strokes with little thrusts of his own, head thrown back in sheer enjoyment for the satisfaction you give him. Measly little fingers around his fat cock— it'd be embarrassing if he wasn't already head over heels for you, unashamed of just how much he constantly wants you, enough to use you like some sort of sex toy as a twisted means to honour your presence. See, do you see how good you're making me feel? he wants to whimper. You can't blame me for keeping you all to myself, right? Not when your barely there touch feels this good, God...

But he refrains, if only to practice future prayer sessions with you. His cock pulsing against your fingers, leaking precum onto your knuckles as he tightens his grip around your hand. Instructing his God perfectly to get him off quickly, struggling to catch his breath as his balls brow tight and taught under you.

"Ah— Close—" Is all he gets out before he's humping your hand faster, cursing under his breath at the high pitched whine that falls from his open mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he continues to fuck upwards as his load shoots with him. Up and forward, fat strings of his seed covering the top of your head, dribbling down your front from just how much your hand strokes out of him. Because he doesn't stop manipulating your wrist as his orgasm washes over him, making sure you milk every last drop of devotion out of him until you're left a sticky, unaware, sleeping mess.

But he can't just stop there, no! Driven to prove himself some more despite the daze settling into his lust addled mind, he leans forward. Your hand still loose on his tacky with cum cock, in one swift move he tilts your chin up for him to kiss your lips over your gag. The low rumble moan in response letting him know that you're waking to his greedy action, but he doesn't have it within him to stop. Licking over your gag, sucking on the drool you've inevitably spilled from having the item permanently fixed to your maw. He won't let a single drop go to waste, do you see how much he loves every part of you?

Any way to get any part of you inside of him, licking his lips selfishly as he pulls back to greet you.

"Afternoon, love."

[k-slla]

Fate, Or Something Like It

Little bit of a crossover between The Boys & Suits

A/N: So this is the last square filled on my first card for @jacklesversebingo ! Honestly didn't think I'd get to this, but look at that! 😄

Square filled: "You made me get out of my pajamas for this?"

Also using the chance to post it as my first entry to @artyandink's JENSEN-A-THON.:) (I was said there is no max word count😅)

Based on THIS request that an anon sent me and it will be a 2 part story :)

Word count: ~12.9k | My Masterlist

Both parts will have separate warning, in this one you will find: Slightly OOC Ben, naive reader, physical assault, choking, language, angst, mentions and descriptions of torture, use of drugs and alcohol, mentions of past traumas, partial frontal nudity, size kink(if you squint), brief Fem masturbation -I hope I didn't miss any:)

Special thanks to @nescaveckwriter - for your help and inspiration torture through all those gifs you hyped me up with! 😈Love you, Nes!

ENJOY!

If anyone would’ve asked you right now ‘Are you happy?’ you could've easily answered them with a simple ‘yes’. Saying you were a workaholic, would've been definitely an understatement, but it was a good thing that anything else in your personal life didn't require that much attention, so you happily took on as much work as possible. At least it kept you busy. 

You were working at Pearson Hardman, one of the top law firms in New York. With a professional long-time dream of becoming a senior partner in the firm, you were glad to see that your efforts were slowly paying off. Only one obstacle stood in your way - Harvey Specter. Harvey was a good attorney, you had to admit that. Probably one of the best New York has ever seen, but you hoped to have a chance to prove that you were better. 

You didn't hide your ambition of becoming a partner from anyone and Jessica saw how hard you worked to deserve that spot amongst them. The other partners saw that. And you knew that even Harvey saw how much you were ready to sacrifice for the job. You practically lived in your office. And if that was what it took to reach your goal then sleeping in your bed and having a personal life were small things to give up on. But Harvey shared that mentality, and you were well aware of that. 

Both of you had been competing with each other ever since you met in Harvard, so it wasn't exactly a surprise that this position was basically up between you two, too. But a friendly competition hurt no one, if anything, it gave you the drive to work even harder than before. And you loved it. So yes, you could've said you were happy with your life, because then you just didn’t know yet what, or rather who was missing from it. Until you ran into the man, who'd then turn your life upside down just in a week. 

There he was waiting in front of your work place one evening. You had to admit, he was hard to miss in his green super soldier outfit, but you walked right past him, which just seemed to offend him, judging by the sudden shift of his attitude. Of course you knew who he was, how the women threw themselves at him. All the ladies’ favorite Soldier Boy. You could’ve bet he expected the same kind of reaction from you he had already gotten used to. 

But you didn't fall for his look. You didn't have strength to react to him in any way, so you continued on your way, trying to get home to sleep. Out of nowhere someone yanked you backwards towards the alleyway. A quick ‘hey’ was all you managed to say, before you saw that it was in fact Soldier Boy who had attacked you. 

There was no one around at the moment so just screaming for help wouldn't have worked. Not that it would've even with people around you. He was huge and could easily take on anyone in a fight, but you still tried to get yourself away from him. “No! Let me go!” you grunted. Having a hard time keeping up with his long strides, you were around the building already as he dragged you after him into the alley, pushing you then roughly against the wall. “What do you want from me?” you gritted through the teeth as he held you against the wall, trying your hardest to get yourself free from him.

“Nothing much, doll. Just a little…payback.” He whispered, coming in closer to your face, his low voice vibrating in your ear. With a grin, his hand slowly rose from your chest up to your neck, cutting off the air from you. You fought hard trying to pry his hand away from your neck, but he only tightened his grip. 

“I…haven't…done anything…to you.” You said with a strained voice. You could already feel his hurt, anger and hate, it was just radiating from him. You tried to get through to him, to try to ease him from all that, help him, but all you got was what he's been through for those close to 40 years that he was considered dead. Seeing what he went through, you knew that's what he probably wished for as well. 

You were also a supe, but one of those unimportant ones, who besides The Seven didn't really exist to the rest of the society. Luckily you weren't shooting lasers from your eyes, so it was easy for you to hide your power from others. You were a healer. Kind of. 

You could feel what the person had been through, by physical contact. That's how it usually was. It came to you as a sense of negative emotion they had, caused by their experienced distress and trauma, and you “healed” them - erased the pain etched to the memory. But sometimes, when those memories were stronger, they ran in your head like movies. Sometimes, they even caused you physical pain. 

“Don't fucking lie to me! You were there! I saw you.” You already started to get light headed, but gathering your last strength, you managed to kick him. No surprise - it had no effect on him, but it still made him lighten his grip around your neck slightly. 

You could feel everything he was put through. The torture. The betrayal. And all the hurt that had remained. It was too much for one person to go through, even for a supe like him. 

The images of his memories in Russia started to flash before your eyes. Pictures of him restrained- being shot at, burned, poisoned, electrocuted. All that pain over and over again. 

You saw all of it through his eyes. You felt everything he was put through. He may be hard to kill, probably impossible even, but he still felt all that pain and torture. It all must've left some mark on his psyche. 

Hot tears started prickling in your eyes. What you weren't sure of was the reason why. Were they just your body's natural response to him choking you or did you feel sorry for him? First option sounded like a reasonable choice, but you knew your heart was leaning towards the other end. Your naivety got you believing that even someone like Soldier Boy didn't deserve that.

“I wasn't there. I heard what they did, but I wasn't there!” You couldn't tell him about your power, what you had just seen, he'd never believe you and would probably kill you right then and there. 

But Ben on the other hand was sure he wasn't imagining things. He might have downed a bottle of pills and a whiskey before coming for you, but his mind was clear. As much as it could've been. He didn't get much influenced by drugs or alcohol before, but after Russia something had changed. He had no idea what they'd exactly done to him, but he started to get occasional blackouts from drugs and those fucking obnoxious Russian tracks that started ringing in his ears every time someone pissed him off. Even now he was a little bit out of it. 

He knew what he saw when the Reds had him held up. He thought so at least. Every day, or night even, when they experimented on him, tried to kill him, or whatever the fuck they were doing, there was a woman. Spitting image of the one in front of him. The one that he was most eager to find. 

She took away his will. His will to fight back. She took away his will to break free from his restraints and to rip the heads off them one by one, leaving as his only option to wait for his love to come to save him, not knowing she was part of the team who had betrayed him. She had left him to rot in the hopelessness of his own mind. 

But focusing on the woman standing in front of him, Ben's mind was getting a little foggy. Fuck...was it even her? She's not using her power. She's scared, polar opposite to the woman he saw in the lab - cold as ice, lifeless. For a moment he thought that his mind had just started to fill the blanks. She’s…different. She's not even trying to control me. Am I just high? 

Ben was getting truly hesitant of trusting himself. He almost wanted to let her go, when he realized it was just some trick on him. It had to be. She is playing with me. Like she did there.

“I saw you! You were there, every goddamn day when they tortured me! Playing your fucking mind games with me.” He wasn't giving up. He had a list. He had almost forty years to think of each one of them who betrayed him, how to make them pay. Of course he started with Countess. She sure was surprised to see him alive. And finally when he had found you, he now had second thoughts. 

“No...I.. wasn't! I...please...” Your words were slowly dying on your lips. If it weren't for the group of teenagers walking by, Ben would've most certainly killed you. He threw a sideways glance at them. As tempting as it might've been, he knew better than to kill with witnesses around. Not to mention kids. He still had some reputation to maintain. Not that he really cared about that. But he knew he'd have another chance with you. He'll make sure of it. Ben let go of you and you fell straight to the ground. Without missing a beat, you grabbed your bag that you had dropped and ran from him, not daring to look back. “The fuck you're staring at?” You heard him shout behind you, aiming it towards the teens who had begun staring at you two.

When you finally got home - much, much later than you had expected - you had no energy left to cook or clean. All you wanted was a relaxing shower and a decent amount of sleep for a change. Mindlessly you sat under the hot stream of water on the bathroom floor and the events of tonight really got to you. 

He was ready to kill you tonight and still you were sympathetic for him. While studying the pattern of the floor tiles for a long time, you got more certain with each passing minute that there must be something wrong with you, because there was just no other reason for you to feel sorry for him. You were so stuck in tonight's events, you didn't even notice the water starting to run colder, until the sudden icy water falling onto your shoulders brought you back. Trying not to slip, you scrambled out of the shower as quickly you could. 

You couldn't sleep that night. Not as much as you had hoped at least. You couldn't stop thinking about his words that were still echoing in your head. 

“You were there, every goddamn day when they tortured me!” 

It was almost four decades ago. You weren't even alive then. He must've been just hallucinating there. There couldn’t be any other explanation. Wouldn't be a surprise exactly, too, if you thought more about it, considering what he went through. 

Finally, very early in the morning, you managed to fall asleep. But in all those barely three hours of sleep that you got, you had one sight in mind. Green eyes. His eyes. Full of hate and anger towards the world around him, and trying to hide the pain eating him up from the inside. You knew it was probably not his plan to let it show, but he just didn't know who you really are. 

For the remaining two work days you had left before the weekend, as hard as it was, you were fortunately able to push the incident with him from your mind and focus fully on work. 

And on Friday night, another asshole, a lot friendlier than Soldier Boy, but still a kind of jerk, flew in to ruin your night, again, in the form of Billy Butcher.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” 

Your friendship with Billy was, to put it mildly...odd. He only called you to ask “favors” regarding your power, every now and then, and while you had no reason to give in to him, you just couldn't bring yourself to say no. But considering how the last few times have gone, this time he called to probably claim your soul. 

“What do you want?” Just a call from him had already put a dent into your peaceful evening, so you were in no mood for him beating around the bush. 

“What? No hello?” He laughed, but not getting a reaction from you, he continued. “Straight to the business then. Can a..uh.. let's just call him a friend of mine..can he stay with you for a week?” There was silence on the line for a second. “Or possibly two?” Billy added under his breath.

“What! No!” You couldn’t get your rejection at his plan out any faster. “Not after last time!” 

“Hey! Don't blame me for that. I didn't know they would…nevermind..” he muttered. “I just really need someone to keep an eye on Ben. He's.. He's been through some stuff and has a bit of a “shell shock” as one might say.” 

You heard a little shuffling on the other side and a faint grumpy voice. “I don't have shell shock. Fuck you!” 

“I'm not letting anyone in my apartment again.” You stood your ground. 

“Sweetheart, I'm begging you! Really am! Just this one time.” You sensed from his voice he was getting a bit desperate. 

“Is she bitching?” You heard that same low voice as before. 

“You can tell your friend that I heard that and I do not appreciate it! My answer is no!"

“Ben, shut it. Please, I need someone I trust to look after him. He needs help and I know you, you really are the only one who can help him.” Billy said quietly into the phone. 

“No. I have work and I don't want anyone in my home when I'm not there.” 

“Fair! How about this then...”    

You had no idea how he managed to convince you to move into their headquarters or apartment or whatever they chose to call it. Not a fucking clue. But here you were with your suitcase, ready to move in for an indefinite time. All this had only one upside for you - shorter commute to work. 

Standing outside, you called through the intercom, and waited for Butcher to answer. Probably knowing it was you downstairs, he opened the door immediately. You really felt luck being against you lately, so it came to you as no surprise that the elevator, too, was out of order. With a heavy sigh, you braced yourself for the stupid amount of stairs ahead. 

When you made it to their door, you were absolutely out of breath. Why couldn't I have flying as my power? That would have come handy right now. No, no, no...I am a healer. Unfair. 

You knocked on the door, still trying to calm your breathing. After a moment, Butcher finally opened it. “Hello, luv! You made it!” You wanted to beat this shit-eating grin off his face. Too bad he was stronger than you. “We were about to start betting on how long it would take for you to get up here.” 

“That piece of shit elevator is out of order again.” You grunted, pulling your suitcase into the room after you. 

Setting it down in the living room, you looked around in the apartment. You saw only Butcher and Hughie around. “So? Where's that friend of yours?” The grin on Billy's face grew wider. 

“I swear to God, if that was just some joke that you two tried to play on me..” you were still out of breath, but tried to sound threatening, although, there wasn’t much you could do to him. Maybe to Hughie, yes, if he was in on the joke, but not to Butcher. 

“No, not a joke. He's real and I bet you'll get along nicely.” It seemed as if Ben had heard you, and sauntered cockily out of his room. “So, where's the new roomie...?” His smug grin only widened when he saw your dumbfounded face. You defensively took a step back. “No, Billy, hell no!” 

Butcher stepped protectively in front of you. “Relax, he's not gonna bite.” 

“Not gonna bite?! He tried to kill me less than three days ago.” You hissed as an answer, glaring at Ben, as you learnt was his name, over Billy's shoulder. 

“And now he'll promise to behave, right, Ben?” Ben rolled his eyes at you and walked into the kitchen. “Whatever.” 

You stared after him. “Why can't someone else babysit him?” 

“We have some work coming up. Listen. I know what happened between you two. He told me and right after I explained to him that there was no possible way for you to have been in Russia all this time ago. But, Y/N, you're the only one who can help me. Please.” It was really out of his character to see him beg for something. 

You stood in silence for a minute. You spineless piece of… You cursed yourself in your head. “Where’s my room?"

Waking up next morning you were glad that it was Saturday. You had the whole weekend to assess this…situation. You were the first one up and started making breakfast for everyone. Butcher was still snoring on the couch in the living room, as Hughie probably claimed the last free room to himself. You have always been more of a ‘forgive and forget’ type of person. Always seeing the best in people. Even if it took time to let go, you never were one to hold a grudge. It would have been totally understandable for you to walk out this time, too, but all you wanted was just to try to let go of what had happened with Ben a few days ago, so you tried to be nice.

You knew you two wouldn't be friends, not like with Hughie or Butcher, not that you were very close to them either, but you hoped that you could at least be civil around each other for the few weeks now that you had agreed to live with him.

In the middle of frying up some bacon, you heard a bedroom door opening, so it was either Hughie or Ben. A second later, from the corner of your eye, you saw a figure appear on the kitchen door. 

“That's what I like to see - a woman in the kitchen, right where she belongs.” Definitely not Hughie. You were about to shoot back some snarky comment, when you finally took a look at him. “Shit...” You mumbled quietly. 

Leaning on the doorway, Ben was wearing only some green floral silk robe that hung open on his shoulders. Nothing underneath it. The unexpectedness of seeing his cock the first thing in the morning hit you hard. Your mind went blank and against your will, you had to admit that you were quite literally hypnotized by him. 

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” A low chuckle rang in the distance, bringing you out of your short daydream. You blinked at him and blushed hard, realizing you had been just standing there, staring at him. Talk about morning wood. After letting out a long exhale, your focus was now fully back on bacon. “P-please put on s-some clothes?” 

He slowly walked towards you, not closing the robe. Heat started to climb up your cheeks when he stopped next to you. “You do like the view.” Ben said smugly and snatched a piece of bacon from the plate. Not even a question this time. He knew the effect he had on you. You couldn't even deny it to yourself. 

“Stop harassing the poor woman and put on some clothes.” Billy grumbled from the couch. 

“You're no fun.” Ben said to Billy before stepping in even closer to you, seizing the last of the personal space you had left and whispering. “But soon we'll be all alone and I'll tell you, sweetheart, you'll fuckin’ beg for it.” He winked and you just stared at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“Bacon's a bit burned, by the way.” Ben grinned and finally covered himself before turning around and leaving the kitchen. 

Rest of the day went luckily quietly, with you staying mostly hidden in your own room. Kimiko, Frenchie and MM came around noon, to talk through the last minute changes on the plan for their new job. 

“So, please don't kill each other. Or I mean, Ben, don’t kill her.” Hughie smiled at you and Ben, before walking out of the door, making you roll your eyes at his back. 

“And don't tear the place down, if you decide to...you know…get acquainted better. Which you probably will.” Billy said with a smirk. “If you do, you fix it up. Got it?” He continued sternly. 

“Got it.” Quick slap from Ben landed on your ass, making a shrill yelp escape from you. 

“Hey! We're not - I - he won't..!” Your brain short-circuited again, for the second time today, because of Ben. Butcher winked knowingly and then turned around to leave. “See ya!” With a wave, he was out the door.

You were now left alone with Ben, who scoffed beside you. “What's your problem?” 

“Don't even get me started.” You mumbled quietly and walked past him into the kitchen.

“I heard that!” He called after you. 

“Good!” You looked back at the doorway, and saw Ben stomping towards you. You rolled your eyes and started to make some coffee. 

“No, seriously. What's your problem?” He crossed his arms. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Do you really want to know?” 

“That's why I asked.” 

You fully turned towards him and leaned on the kitchen island with one hip. “My problem is that three days ago you tried to kill me, without any explanation, you haven't even apologized and now you're acting like nothing's happened, and I'm stuck here with you because of my inability to say no. So there you go.”

“Actually, I had an explanation.” He said absentmindedly, before stepping in front of you, squinting his eyes and pointing his finger at you. “And, no, that's not your problem, but I know what it really is.” He said slowly.

You waved your arms in front of you, his cockiness started to slowly infuriate you. “Please, enlighten me.”

Ben bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows with a little nod. “You haven't been properly fucked for a while.” He said boldly, making you fume on the inside. “Yeah. That's it. I can see all that...frustration in you, sweetheart.” He was now grinning ear to ear, flashing his bright smile. “More than happy to help you out.” He added with a simple shrug. “You're a tad bit young for me, but I can look past it. I tend to go to women with a bit more experience.” He left you completely speechless and the grin on his face grew wider with each second you sputtered in front of him, blinking rapidly as you tried to figure out something to say.

“Ew, just stop it, okay!” You blurted out finally. “Can we just try to be normal around each other for one day, without you making some lewd suggestions about my personal life?”

Ben's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Okay.” He shrugged and then raised his finger. “I'll give you one day.” And with that he walked out of the kitchen and left you there standing, cursing the choice of words you had made.

“Fuck me..” You muttered, realizing that now Ben will probably start riling you up even more.

“What was that?” He appeared again on the kitchen door with a wicked smile on his lips, clearly hoping he had heard you correctly. You had to admit - Ben was hellishly handsome, too handsome for his own good and of course he knew that. You couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped from your lips, seeing that little playful glint in his eyes.

“Nothing!” You called out quickly, face turning red.

Note to self - be careful when speaking to yourself. Man has super hearing.

You had to be grateful that at least Ben did keep his promise and kept to his own on Sunday.

A blood-curdling scream woke you in the middle of the night. You were certain that you had just dreamed it, because when you sat up in bed, it was all silent around you. Until you heard him again.

So this is what Butcher meant by helping him.

It now kind of made sense also, why he called you in the first place. Obviously it wasn't just to keep Ben company. You dragged yourself out of the bed and made your way to his room next to yours.

You could hear the strained screams even through the door. Not bothering with knocking, you pushed it open and entered his bedroom.

Ben was cramped up in his bed, like in a shock. His teeth were bared, grunting almost animalistically, and his breathing was rapid.

You could instantly feel your own breath getting caught in your throat and tears starting to well up in your eyes. “Ben.” You said quietly and sat down next to him on the bed.

Whatever he was experiencing right now must've been some of the most horrible things you could ever imagine.

You put one hand on his chest, trying to gently wake him up. Instead you got more nauseous every second, feeling like a knife was twisted in your guts and every inch of your skin was on fire. You were unable to control the tears streaming down your cheeks. The flashbacks you started to get were horrible. You felt every stab, cut and burn he had gotten. They made you physically want to vomit. Never before have you reacted this strongly to someone. But never before have you met someone who has experienced so much pain like Ben. You tried your hardest to keep the disturbing images from creeping up in your mind.

“Ben, wake up!” You softly stroked his head, grimacing along with him, seeing his beautiful features distorted from pain. You couldn't take it anymore. Placing both of your hands on his face, you turned him towards you. To be able to help him, you had to calm down yourself first. With what Ben went through, this was surely going to be a challenge. You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing and the feeling of his face in your arms. He still hadn't woken up, so you had to get him to calm down in his sleep.

It took a long time. It took so much more from you than it usually did. You could feel your energy drain. Ben was still cramped up, strained groans leaving his lips, but slowly you were able to ease your breathing. Tears were still flowing down your cheeks but your mind was getting clearer with each exhale, until there was nothing left. No pain. No flashbacks. You felt Ben quieting down next to you, his body slowly starting to relax. Your eyes were still closed, when you heard him waking up. You had hoped to be gone already when he would wake, but now it was too late.

“Y/N? What- where am I?” He was drowsy and confused about his surroundings. Seeing him awake, you immediately pulled your hands from his face to dry your eyes, so he wouldn't see you crying.

“It's okay, Ben. You're fine.” He rubbed his hand over his face, visibly more confused now. He turned to look at you, brows knit tightly together. “Wait, what are you doing here? What did you do to me?”

You turned away from him on the edge of the bed. “I didn't do anything. I just heard you scream and came to check on you.”

You knew he didn't believe you. You didn’t even believe yourself what you were saying.

“Don't lie to me. Who are you?” Ben sat up in bed.

“I am not lying, Ben. I didn't do anything.”

You saw that he was quickly getting annoyed, angry even. “I don't wake up from these dreams just like that. I have to…suffer through them.” Ben gritted, glaring at you. “And you are here, crying. Who are you?” He repeated himself and quickly got out of bed, pulling you up with him. “Tell me!”

“Alright, fine! Just so I can go to bed.” You yelled back. You looked down at his hand grabbing your shoulder painfully. “Let go of me, then I'll talk. Thank you.” You added in a slightly softer manner when he let go of your arm, but hesitantly waited for a second before you started talking. “I…am a supe, too, although my powers aren't as good as “The Seven” or whatever, but I am a kind of healer.” You started cautiously, being afraid of his reaction. “Like almost an empathic healer?” You added and took a glance at him. You could see he was not following you at that moment. “It means I can feel and heal people's emotional traumas. Well, I don't “heal” heal, but you know, make them less painful over time.” You were pacing around the room, not knowing what was going through his head. “That's why Butcher even called me in the first place. To come and help you.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

“I don't know.” You shrugged.

Ben sat down on the bed again and you thought he wanted to go back to sleep, so you started to leave the room.

“Wait.” You heard him suddenly ask behind you. He stared after you with a questioning look in his eyes. “Why were you crying?”

You got slightly embarrassed, hoping he hadn't noticed that. “Um...Well, when I say I feel the pain, I actually tend to feel it. It comes to me almost like memories or sometimes flashbacks through the eyes of the person going through it, but..uh..I feel it all that too. Tonight was actually the first time I've cried. It was just too much today.” You stood on the door and kept your eyes down on the floor.

Feeling like you had overshared, you quickly muttered “good night” under your breath, and almost ran out of the room. You heard Ben call something after you, but you didn't stay to hear what he had to say. He didn't follow.

Now it was Monday morning and you were again making breakfast before you had to go to work. After leaving Ben's room last night, you couldn't fall asleep, so you tried to think of a few simple rules to have set up for the time you two were living together. But with Ben being as he is, you were certain he'd not welcome them warmly. So first you needed to bribe him. Just a little.

You had set everything on the table, coffee, bacon and eggs and whatever else you thought he'd like for breakfast. You sucked in a quick breath before you went to wake him up. You knocked on the door and opened it. “Hey, Ben! Wake up!’

He only lifted his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. “No.”

“Yes. We have to talk before I go to work.” You picked up some sweatpants and a t-shirt from the chair by the door and threw them on his bed. “And put some clothes on.”

When he saw that you were not leaving, Ben finally sat up in bed. It took all of your willpower not to let your eyes wander over his body, barely covered by the familiar green silk robe. “Damn it, woman. It's 7 in the morning.” He opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a ready rolled joint. You made no effort to hide the disgust on your face as he lit it and took a long drag on it. “Seriously?” You looked between him and the reefer between his fingers.

“What?” He shrugged, clearly it has become a part of his routine.

“It's 7am. That's really the first thing that goes into your mouth in the morning after waking up?”

Ben pulled the blunt from his lips with a smirk and took a long look at you up and down. “I mean, if I'd have you in the bed with me, this definitely wouldn't be the first thing in my mouth.”

You crossed your arms on your chest, hoping to hide the jolt of unexpected arousal that ran through your core.

“Stop that. I made breakfast.” You said sternly as you walked out of his room. “And put the clothes on!” You added over your shoulder.

You sat at the kitchen table with a notebook, writing down some basic rules you'd both have to follow. You hoped that Ben could be reasonable about these few things. It was nothing major. Just to make sure you both agreed on cleaning after yourselves and some compromises over cooking.

After a little while Ben finally joined you in the kitchen. You were focused on reading a news article on your phone, when you heard him opening and closing the cupboards looking for a cup for himself. You looked up at him, and you almost choked on air, but managed to disguise it as a simple cough. Of course Ben wasn't fully dressed. It was clearly too much to ask of him.

His bare back was turned towards you, muscles flexing as he reached for a cup. You didn't want to, but couldn't hold back on checking out the rest of his body, too. More importantly, you were quietly admiring the way his sweatpants hugged his butt. Usually you were not one to thirst over men, but something about Ben felt different. You almost had completely forgotten his attack on you, which you knew was wrong, but given what you saw that night then and now again last night, you knew that there was more to him than he let on. He had been through a lot and it wasn't his fault. You wanted to believe that not all of it at least.

You gave Ben a few minutes to wake up properly in silence. You decided that you weren't going to talk about last night if he wouldn't bring it up himself.

“So, I wanted to talk about house chores with you.”

He looked at you with a completely dead face. “You made me get out of my pajamas for this? Are you having a stroke?”

It was not easy for you to hold back laughter. “First of all - no, I'm not having a stroke.” You took too big of a bite out of your breakfast sandwich. “Secondly - you really call that silky green pornstar robe a pajama? Are you a five year old?” You started choking on your food, trying to keep a straight face asking this from him.

“I don't know. Sounds to me like you're just jealous. I can lend it to you, you know? It's very comfortable.” A genuine smile, the first one you’ve seen from him, lit up his whole face. He took his plate and got up from the table. God, he’s gorgeous. You gave yourself a mental slap and stopped that thought right there. NO, Y/N. You can’t think like that. He literally tried to kill you. It started to feel dangerous already being around him, and it was only the start of the third day. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“No, seriously though. We have to set up some basic stuff to keep the place tidy for both of us. It's not the 50s anymore. Women have jobs now, you know. I have a job, too and I will not take everything onto my shoulders.”

“Mm, yeah, not gonna happen.” Ben took his food and disappeared into his room.

“Oh, come on! Ben!” You called after him, but the only answer you received was the loud thud from the door shutting behind him. This went as well as I had expected. You sighed defeatedly and started to clean up the kitchen before heading to work.

Meeting after meeting, one deposition on top of the other, your day passed excruciatingly slow. And it was just Monday, which was already the downside to begin with.

On your way out of the office building, you pulled out your phone. On your lock screen glowed notifications of unanswered calls and a message from Ben, asking you to pick up some whiskey and drugs.

You rolled your eyes, already regretting giving him your phone number. Hughie had taught Ben how to use a smartphone. You can only imagine how that must've looked to a bystander. For a scrawny little dude, Hughie must have iron nerves to have kept up with Ben.

Before you could text him back, a call from Jessica came in and a sense of dread washed over you.

“Hi, Jessica. What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Y/N, I know you left the office for the day already, but please come see me first thing in the morning. We need to talk.”

We need to talk. That definitely didn’t ease your mind. You breathed deeply for a moment before answering to her. “Alright, I'll see you tomorrow.”

You knew what this was going to be about. They’ve decided on who to offer the Senior partner position. And judging by Jessica’s voice, it probably wasn’t going to be you. Scratch that. It definitely wasn’t going to be you.

You did a quick trip to the grocery store, picking up coffee and some things for dinner tonight. And you didn't forget Ben, and got him whiskey, although drugs were where you would draw the line. You will not be one to supply him with drugs.

Walking home from the corner store, you had some time to think. You wanted that position. You wanted to give your contribution to developing Pearson Hardman to its best. You wished to have the same kind of impact on junior associates, like Jessica had on you when you first started in the firm. You’ve given a lot to work yourself up. It didn’t feel selfish to you to think that you deserved that. But even if you wouldn’t get it, you knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Becoming a partner would be one of your biggest goals in professional life, but at the end of the day, you were still working to help people. And that's what matters. That’s what you tried to focus on at least.

You tried to push all the work thoughts out of your mind so you could relax just for a few hours that's left of the evening before you'd pass out on the couch. You threw together a quick dinner for both you and Ben and went straight to bed afterwards, hoping that you’d get more sleep this time.

But again, you woke up in the middle of the night, hearing his screams from the other room. It was only the second night and already you could feel it drain you more than the last night.

You stood at the door for a minute, just staring at him. How you were supposed to last two weeks or longer doing this almost every night, you had no idea, but now you knew that you couldn’t just leave him either. If it was in your power to help him, you had to at least try. No matter what he’d done. No matter what he would do. Knowing what he had gone through, it had already become impossible for you to just walk away from him. So you didn't.

For over an hour you were by his bed tonight, barely holding yourself together as you got him through the nightmare.

“I don't need your help. I'm fine,” Ben snapped at you as he woke up and rested his head against the headboard with a sigh.

“Yeah, looks like it.” You stared at him for a minute, but seeing he wouldn't even look at you, you scoffed and got up from the bed.

“Fine.” You left his room in a hurry and closed the door behind you with a loud thud.

You pulled the blanket over your head, trying to fall back asleep. After laying in bed for almost an hour, you finally managed to get some sleep, but only a short time later, your alarm pulled you out from deep sleep and you had to back down from the urge to throw your phone across the room. Exhaustedly you sat up in bed and let your legs hang over the edge.

You had all your hope put into a morning shower and a strong coffee to make you somewhat functional, but today they chose to let you down. You were still tired and distraught from Ben's dreams from the night.

You know that these dreams are tormenting him almost daily, but if he says he doesn't want help, should you even keep doing that? Should you still put yourself through all that pain? It hasn't been this bad while helping others, but with Ben, everything felt tenfold stronger. You could feel yourself being so close to breaking already.

Jessica was already in the office when you arrived, despite it being a few hours before the official start of the work day. She really is the perfect example of a self-made woman and you were definitely lucky to have her as a mentor.

You knocked on the open door of her office. “Hi, Jessica, you wanted to see me?”

“Y/N, good morning. Yes, come on in.” Jessica greeted you with a smile as you stepped in. “Close the door and take a seat, please.”

You sat down across from her. She already had the look. The same look she always gets when she has to give bad news. You knew what was coming, but still you held onto the small glimmer of hope that the outcome would be in your favor.

“I asked you to come here to tell you that the board had a meeting yesterday. All the partners voted on who will be offered the open Senior partner position.”

You took a deep breath and nervously started to play with your rings under the table out of Jessica's sight.

“I want you to know that we were thinking in favor of the firm and the decision was purely made on professional aspects. That's why we're going to move forward with Harvey. I hope you understand.”

“Right, of course. I do understand. He's..” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing. “Harvey is a hard worker. He's the right choice.” You smiled at her, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

For the rest of the day you buried yourself into work to use it as a distraction. Because that's what usually keeps you from spiraling down. Today you hoped it would keep your mind away from Ben, too.

For the whole day you had managed to keep yourself from thinking about him. You were busy. You just didn’t have time to thirst over him from that one moment you saw him without a shirt.

Or that morning in the kitchen…almost naked. But now in your quiet office? It was hard not to think of him. You swallowed hard before forcing your focus back to the papers in front of you. You were berating yourself for even giving him space in your head. You knew the guy for three days and he had tried to kill you. Literally.

But something about him still pulled you towards him. And it was much more than just sexual attraction. You weren’t going to lie to yourself - he was hot. Goddamn, he was hot and you wanted him all over you. And if keeping your dignity wouldn’t have mattered to you, you probably would’ve jumped his bed yesterday morning. But something else captivated you about him and you couldn't put a finger on it.

It was well past 9pm when you heard a startling knock on your office door. You raised your head quickly and saw Harvey at the door.

“Hey, you're still here this late?” He asked curiously, leaning on the doorframe. Letting out a deep sigh you started to gather together all the papers scattered around on the table.

“Just finished. It's not that late, is it? Time just flies when you're having fun. You of all people should know it.” Tired smile on your face betrayed how you were feeling on the inside. You cleared your throat. “I saw Jessica this morning. I guess congratulations are in order.” You stood up from the desk and reached out your hand to him.

The air in the room was dense from the tension between you and Harvey. “You don't have to do that.” He gave you a little, sad smile.

“Do what?” You lowered your hand back down after seeing him not reach out to it.

“You don't have to pretend that you're happy for me, Y/N. I know you wanted that spot, too.”

For a moment the room fell silent, the only sound in the office was quiet shuffling as you packed up your bag to leave. “I'm not.” You zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. “I'm not pretending, I mean. I am happy for you.” You quickly followed up before he'd get the wrong idea. “They did what they think is best for the company, and you deserve it, so of course I’m happy for you.” You smiled genuinely as you walked past Harvey into the hallway.

“Thanks.” He still sounded hesitant, but from you there were no hidden meanings behind your words. You really were happy for him. He is a good friend of yours and has been for a long time. That didn’t mean that you weren’t just a little jealous of him.

Cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the building. You were tired, but you didn’t want to go home yet.

You started to walk, completely unsure of where you’d end up. Mindlessly you wandered around on the streets, witnessing the start of the night life in front of your eyes, despite it being Tuesday.

One underground bar caught your attention, and you decidedly walked towards it to check it out. You weren't planning to stay longer than for a drink. Working with a hangover was hell on earth, so one time was enough for you. You had definitely learned from your mistakes and were not excited to repeat them.

From the looks of the groups of people lingering outside of the bar, you expected it to be crowded to the roof, but you were pleasantly surprised that there were not that many people in there, and you even had the option to choose seating for yourself. It’s still early, you thought as you picked out a table in the far back corner.

You sat down right beside the wall, facing away from the rest of the room, leaving an empty seat between the table and wall.

You sat there for a minute, massaging your temples to get rid of the headache that slowly started to build. You hadn't slept well for the past few nights and it started to get to you.

After getting your drink, you sat back down and raised the glass to your lips, when you heard a voice behind you, the same one you were trying to run away from right now.

“Didn't think I'd find you in a hole like this.”

Fuck. Now I'm imagining things, too. You downed the drink in one go. You had planned on sipping on it slowly, savoring it. You winced as the whiskey burned your throat going down. There were heavy footsteps approaching and then he sat down across from you.

“What are you doing here?” You sighed tiredly.

Ben flagged down the bartender. “What does it look like, sweetheart? I'm getting a drink."

“Why here? Were you following me?” You asked him straight up.

Ben scoffed. “Hah, don't flatter yourself. I like this bar.”

“Really?” You didn't hide the disbelief from your voice. You had a feeling that he wasn't telling quite the truth. “What's the name of it?”

You saw from his expression that he was racking his brains to come up with some name. “Little…Sal’s?” A grin broke out on his face. “What?”

You grimaced at his stupid answer. “No, Ben, it's not...that. Why were you following me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't even know. I tried to call, but you didn't answer.”

“Well, that should've been your first clue that I didn't want to talk.”

“And you didn't come home either.”

“Should’ve taken that as a second clue. Don't tell me you actually started to worry about me?” You winked at him teasingly.

“Well, it's not safe for a woman like you to be out alone at this hour.”

“A woman like me?”

“Yeah. In my experience, beautiful women like you tend to meet troublesome men, who then try to take advantage of them.” He smiled at you amusingly.

“Oh, is that so? And you thought, what, that you'd come and save a damsel in distress?” You got up to leave. “I can take care of myself.”

“Y/N, please. Stay for a drink.”

“Already had a drink.” You answered him curtly.

“Well, humor me. I can see there's something bothering you.” He ordered new drinks, one for you, too and it would've been impolite to not accept it. That's how you tried to convince yourself, even though you were pretty sure he would've just drank it himself, if you would've declined.

He pushed a glass towards you as you sat back down. “As an apology.” You laughed wryly at his gesture. “I would actually like a real apology as an apology.” You then squared your shoulders and looked directly at him.

You could see him tense up, as if saying three little words would somehow now break him. You didn't want to let him see how intimidating he actually was to you. You had already seen what he had been through, but at the same time you were well aware of the atrocities he was accused of and what he was actually capable of doing. In every sense possible, Ben was a dangerous man. And now you were calling him out to apologize to you, knowing very well that if anything sets him off the wrong way, he could blow up the bar and half of the block with it. Your heart was almost jumping out of your throat when the two of you kept staring at each other in silence.

You saw his jaw slack. “Fine.” He gritted through his teeth. “I'm sorry."

After practically pulling these words out of him, you decided you were not going to accept them this easily. “For what exactly?” Your head was turned to the side as you squinted at him quizzically.

“Oh, come on! Really? I said I was sorry!” He fell back in his chair.

“Yes, really! I'm not going to accept some half-assed apology after I had to drag it out from you!”

Ben leaned in on the chair and took one of your hands into his. He probably heard how hard your heart was beating at his move, given that little smirk on his lips which disappeared quickly.

You wanted to believe. For the sake of your own heart, you wanted to believe that Ben was actually a good man, because you started to get scared of where you were heading with your scaringly, stupidly fast developing feelings. You hadn't even had a proper conversation before other than the one you just had.

“I really am sorry for assaulting you. I... I was completely out of my head and…I think high, too” He seemed to be genuinely sorry. “...and unfortunately you got caught in the way.” He squeezed your hand assuringly.

You bit your cheek and you were torn. Your mind was screaming ‘run and don't look back’, but in your heart there was a gaping loneliness. And that loneliness spoke louder. ‘Just give in. Give in to what you want and tell it to him. You just might have a chance of happiness.’

“You know, I can not tell you to trust me. Not after what I did. I can't make you believe that I've changed. That has to be your own judgment call. And I know I haven't really given you much to look for the positive in me and for that, I am sorry, too.”

You didn't know what to answer him. It was like he was reading your mind. He let go of your hand and raised both glasses. You took one from him, silently accepting the apology. You both finished your drinks in silence, before Ben started to talk again.

“So...Who pissed in your Cheerios?” He leaned forward on the table.

“What do you mean? Other than wanting you to apologize to me, I'm fine.” You tried to brush it off.

“Well, don't get me wrong, doll, but you don't exactly look the type to go to bars on Tuesday evenings. Alone. Yet here you are.”

You downed the last sip and raised a finger to stop Ben from ordering more. You winced a bit, still not getting quite used to the burn. “None for me, thanks.”

“Well, suit yourself.” And he ordered himself a new one. You were debating in your head on how much you really wanted to let him in.

“Will you tell me? Or will we just consider this night to be over?” He asked again.

“It’s just some work stuff.” You said then quietly.

“What about it?” He seemed to really want to know. You didn't understand him at all anymore. On Saturday he didn't even apologize to you for his attack and then made some vile comments that totally had started to mess with your head, and now he is showing interest in your work.

“Why do you care? Why are you so nice to me all of sudden?” You snapped, maybe a little too harshly even, but it was hard for you to keep it in. Ben raised his hands up. “Relax, okay? It's not that I've started to ‘care’. I just..” he scratched his beard, trying to find the words.

“You just what, Ben? You are honestly giving me fucking whiplash with how you have acted after…after that night.” You finished with a shaky voice and crossed your arms on your chest, but you weren't quiet for long. “Not to mention all that crap in the kitchen. And now you are here, let me rephrase it- you followed me here,” you corrected yourself. “And you are asking now ‘who pissed in your Cheerios?’” you made your voice low, comically imitating his. “Well, I guess you did, Ben. So why are you really here?”

“I..” he took a deep breath in. “I'm just trying to be nicer, okay? You don't...” he rubbed his palm over his eyes and beard, as you continued staring at him frowningly. “You have no idea what these last two nights have done to me.” Ben said quietly, voice heavy with what was for him a new, unfamiliar feeling of genuine gratitude. “After you've left, I've been able to fall back asleep, without those nightmares and…it's clear to me that you have not.”

You weren't going to lie to him that it was nothing. Because it was not. You had never expected to be so affected by him. By his pain. And you really were tired. You stared at your hands on the table noticing how you’ve unknowingly started to pick on your nail polish, seeing it chipped on the edges. Maybe you chose wrong, but it was either him or you. “That's why I came in the first place. To help you, Ben. That's what I do.”

“But that's the thing. You help me, but that shouldn't come from your account. And don't get me wrong, I've been needing good sleep for quite some time, because after that..” he left a little pause. “...chamber, all that there's been for me, are just those nightmares, but you don't deserve to go through that for me.”

“How else would I be able to help you then? You didn’t deserve it either.”

“What do you know of what I deserve?” An insincere smile creeped on his lips. “And why should you even help me? You don't know what I've done. Or what I'm capable of doing.” Ben hinted, leaning towards you over the table. You weren't sure if it was one of his scare tactics, but you refused to back down.

"Because of what you just said to me! You told me you've changed. And I've seen what they did to you. I'm not believing for a second that it was all justified.” You reached over the table for his hand. You knew how naive you must’ve sounded. “Deep down you know yourself that you're not a bad person. If you were, if you didn't just care about anyone, you wouldn't have come looking for me. And I should help you, just because I can.” You weren't really sure whether you tried to convince him or yourself.

He pulled away his hand and quickly stood up. “Don't give me that crap!” Suddenly agitated again, he stomped out of the bar. With a heavy sigh you pulled out a few bills for the tab and followed him out.

You didn't see him outside the bar and had no idea if he went home or not, but that's where you were headed.

It was only just a little after midnight when you got home, but Ben was nowhere to be seen. At least I'll be able to sleep peacefully tonight. You thought spitefully and regretted it immediately.

Karma's a bitch indeed. You thought while laying sleepless in your bed, contemplating everything that had happened in the past week.

First of all - the night you first met Soldier Boy. That’s who he was then, before you got to know him. Before he became “Ben” to you. You’ve just seen some glimpses of his past, that’s all. But now he still has claimed a special spot in your mind, even after what he did.

You really didn’t know him at all before all this happened. Just what you’ve seen being published by Vought to the masses. And you always knew to take their words with a grain of salt.

Secondly, you weren’t sure whether to believe his own words either. He was so sure that he did not deserve your help from his night terrors. And you didn’t even know why, but for some reason that crushed you. Maybe you had just fallen for his charm, without a second thought, but his certainty of being so sure of that had to come from somewhere. Somewhere much deeper and you hoped to have a chance to find it out.

But what came as the biggest realization, was what you finally understood about yourself. You had been alone since childhood, only found your friends when you were in college, and the closest who had stayed even after graduating was Harvey. Only now you were mostly just coworkers to each other.

Being alone had made your skin thick, and you learnt to suppress your emotions well. That was the reason why you were so good at your job- you just couldn’t allow yourself to get too emotionally attached to the cases, because you have had the first hand view of good attorneys making grave mistakes, when they’ve gotten influenced by the cases or clients. And now, after years of shutting down your feelings, you know why helping Ben was so important for you. Even his pain made you feel something, and you were more than glad to find out that your heart hadn’t turned completely into stone yet.

You decided there was no point for you to just lay there in bed, so you thought you'd get up and just go to work early. At least that would make you feel useful. Sitting in the kitchen, drinking your coffee you felt eerily weird knowing that you were alone again. You hadn't heard Ben come home during the night and when you woke up, stopping at his door, you didn’t hear his snoring too.

For the whole day you had a gnawing feeling inside. The conversation you and Ben had felt far from finished when he left the bar last night. You weren't sure if he's going to be home in the evening too. Home. You let out a short chuckle staring at your computer screen. It felt funny to think of it as home. You had been there less than a week. This wasn't your home. Not really. But somehow you already got attached to the place, or rather your roommate and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Few hours later you felt your eyes growing tired and everything started to get hazy. You had been staring at the computer screen far too long and when you were satisfied with what you got done today so after getting the final case files revised, you counted the work day ended.

Standing in front of the apartment building you were once again cursing its existence. Getting down the stairs was easy, but after work climbing up them was the worst imaginable thing for you. Sure, it was good for your health. Cardio and whatnot. You never have time to go to the gym anyway. You just couldn't wait to get used to them. Until then you had no shame in taking off your heels and taking the stairs in stockings. The feeling you got was indescribable, making you let out a sigh of relief.

You fumbled with your keys to open the door, only to discover that Ben had it chained up from the inside. “Oh, come on, Ben! Open the door!” You called in from the cracked door, before closing it. But he didn't came to the door and it felt like it was straight out of some comedy - you, locked out of the apartment, without shoes like some crazy person and of course, of course, in that moment the neighbors happened to come out of their apartment as you were pounding on the door for Ben to let you in. “Open up! Oh- sorry!” You smiled at them apologetically and stepped out of their way to let them past you.

“Alright, alright, stop with the banging! I'm coming.” You heard his muffled grumpy voice through the door.

“Finally…” you mumbled to yourself.

When Ben opened the door you just glared at him for a second. “Why do you, of all people, need to chain the door from the inside?” You pushed past him into the room.

A barely hearable “oh” was all that left your lips when your eyes stopped on the bottle of lotion and a tissue box on the living room table. Suddenly you felt very grateful for him locking up the door.

“So this is what you do when I'm at work? Must be..” you made your eyes exaggeratingly big, even though he didn't see it. “..exciting.”

“It was, yes.” He was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. “Would have been even more so, if I would've been able to finish just now.” He came back to the room, a big smile on his lips and handed you a glass as well and waved at the couch. “Sit.”

You frowned, looking down at the couch too. “Do I want to?”

“Don't be such a prude.”

You rolled your eyes at him and took a seat. “I'm not a prude.” You mumbled quietly into the glass as you started to drink.

You tried to relax next to him, but in his presence you now felt an awkward silence fall between you and Ben.

Anxiety started to slowly rise in your chest thinking about the conversation ahead of you.

“So, Ben. Did you want to talk or were you just waiting for me to spend some quality time together?”

“Yeah, I was just waiting for you,” he answered. “Because you are such a joy to be around.”

Rolling your eyes, you swirled the amber gold liquid in your glass, and shifted in your seat to turn more towards Ben. “Shoot.”

“You know, you don't have to do this, right?”

Here we go again. About how he doesn't deserve my help. You sighed, waiting for him to continue.

“I'm serious. You can just leave. You should've left after the first night. Why are you putting yourself through this?”

“Because I want to help you."

Ben laughed at your words. “Now you want to help me? You didn't seem so keen on doing that when you first saw me.”

“Well, excuse me! I'd like to think my first reaction seeing you was totally justified, considering that you literally tried to kill me a few nights prior.”

“So what changed? Why are you torturing yourself with me?”

“You wouldn't understand. I–” you clamped up and finished your drink instead.

He snorted beside you. “Try me. I'm smarter than I look.” But without another word you got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to grab the whiskey bottle.

“It's just…” you looked at him quickly as you topped up your glass. His eyes were focused on you, indicating he was actually interested in hearing what you had to share.

“It's just that for most of my life I have been alone. Of course I only found that out later, but I was supposedly one of the first babies who got some new experimental version of the Compound V. They found me in some orphanage, where I was quite literally dumped at, so probably they thought ‘perfect, no one will miss her, let's fuck her up’.”

You emptied half of your glass. You even surprised yourself with how easily your story flowed out of you. This is the first time you ever talked about it. Something about him just made you feel safe enough to finally do it.

“I was kept in for a few years, for all kinds of tests and stuff, but when they thought that the V didn't work on me, I was once again thrown onto the streets. Hadn't one of the workers saved me, I probably wouldn't have seen double digits even.”

Thinking back to your childhood, you started to feel your eyes watering. Feeling silly about crying at that, you chuckled, before taking in another sip.

“Sounds like a happy ending, right? Well for me it was out of the frying pan, straight into the fire. For a little while everything was good. Then one day it started to seem like even just me waking up in the morning was an immediate day ruined for my mom. Being belittled and scolded by her became a daily occurrence for me. And if I dared to make a sound then I'd get the belt. “A failure” she used to call me. And that's just what I was. A failed fucking science experiment.”

You sniffled, sipping the whiskey and relishing in the burn it left in your throat, taking the attention from the pain that suddenly filled your heart. “But I pushed through it all. Until she died, when I was in senior year in high school.”

You tried to laugh through the tears. “I get a feeling you didn't ask for my whole life story, but that's what you're getting now.” You exhaled slowly and cleared your throat before continuing. “Well, even when she wasn't that nice or caring towards me when she was raising me, it was still just me and her. And apparently she cared a lot more than just a little, since after her death I found out she left me her apartment and an inheritance big enough to help me start college and gave me a little more time to find a job. And for that I have to be grateful, because I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“When did your powers show?” Ben finally asked. You were almost certain he had fallen asleep, but no, he was still listening. You dried your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Jesus, woman, take a tissue.” Ben awkwardly offered you the tissue box from the table and your eyes went big seeing his gesture, but smiled at him, pulling a few out of the box.

“Uhh...thanks..It was in college. Sophomore year I think. Don't really remember how they started then. And I never told anyone, not even Harvey, who was my best friend then. Now it feels like we only speak to each other, because we work together.” You were feeling a little lighter to be able to get this off your mind. “Anyways, you wanted to know why I want to help you?”

You smiled at Ben, and saw his eyes softening just a little, but he was still clearly uncomfortable by your crying. “Yeah.” It was weird having him being so nice with you.

“Well, growing up like I did, I learned to close up all my emotions. With the job I have, I can't allow myself to make errors because I've gotten too attached to a client or a case. That's against not only my personal morals, but also the company's ethics, because in the end it would only end up with me screwing up my work. I can't afford that. How is it all connected to you? Well…” you looked directly at him. “This sounds so horrible, but even just feeling your pain makes me glad that everything I've gone through hasn't turned me into a senseless zombie yet. At least the pain is something.” You laughed humorlessly, feeling glad to see your little breakdown passing.

He remained quiet, visibly in thought and you couldn't even take a guess what was going on in his head.

For a while both of you drank in silence. Of course Ben did most of the job with emptying the bottle, you couldn't possibly outdrink him, but you didn't fall far behind and you knew already that you were fucked at tomorrow’s meeting. Figuratively. Sadly.

You had to give him some credit. He definitely wasn't wrong when he accused your moodiness with being too long without getting laid. The question was now if his offer to help you was still standing, but you didn't want to seem too desperate by just asking him to fuck you. Trying to get your mind off him, you decided to grab a new bottle from the fridge and ditched your glass, drinking it directly from the bottle. Ben seemed a little surprised for a second but accepted the bottle when you offered it to him.

“What is this shit?” He grimaced after taking a big sip from the bottle, and looked at the label, furrowing his brows. “Honey Whiskey.” You held back your laugh, seeing his face and added innocently, without revealing that this is what you usually drink. You just can't help it, you like your alcohol sweet. “They didn't have anything else.” He only rolled his eyes at you, and made a little face before drinking again.

“So what about you, Ben?” You asked as your eyes relaxed on Ben's lips, coming off the bottle with a drop of whiskey on them. His tongue quickly darted out to lick it up, but it seemed to happen in slow-motion and you desperately wished you could've been brave enough to do it yourself. To taste the sweetness on his lips. Instead you wet your own drying lips from the sight of him, before he looked at you. He caught you staring and his green eyes held you locked with a burning gaze for a minute. Coughing awkwardly, you quickly turned your eyes down from him.

“What about me?” He finally asked, scoffing at seeing you shy away.

“Why are you so convinced that you are so undeserving of my help?”

“Well, didn't you hear? I was a fucking menace to my team.” He chuckled darkly and handed the bottle over to you. “Apparently so much that they saw the need to get rid of me. Well, fuck them..” he laughed slowly. “They all got what they deserved.”

You didn't have to think twice about what he was implying, but you were wondering whether to raise the topic of why tried to kill you. You decided to not bring it up. He did say he was high then.

“And you think that this is the reason why you're not worth my help?"

“No, I-I just am not..” he grabbed the bottle from your hands. “I've done a lot of batshit crazy stuff in the past. Being honest now, not even half the crap that Vought has pinned on me, but that doesn't make it any better, does it?”

“Well, tell me one thing, Ben.” You scooted across the couch a little bit closer to him. “You told me yesterday you're a "changed man". If you had the chance, would you do it again? All that payback on Payback?”

“What are you now? My shrink?” He looked down on you, almost condescendingly, and sitting next to him made you feel so small. You couldn't push away the thoughts of asking him to have his way with you. You blamed it on the alcohol. It didn't help you relax at all, it only managed to make you horny.

“No, not that..” you said slowly, trying to get your mind out of the gutter, but with no effect. “Just trying to make up my mind on you, I guess.”

“What's the point of speculating on that then? If I say yes, would that change your current opinion on me?”

You looked up at him. “As you said yesterday, you're leaving it up to me to make my mind up on you. So, probably no, it wouldn't change it. I still think you didn't deserve what happened to you and I'd want to help you.”

You took the bottle from him to finish it off. “But you know, if you're fine with the nightmares, you can always lock your bedroom door. Message received loud and clear. Your decision, that's all.” You simply shrugged and got up from the couch.

“I'm off to bed.” You decided to end the night right there, before you did anything you'd probably come to regret in the morning. “Good night, Ben.”

“Night.” He mumbled under his breath and you heard him crush a pill with a glass, followed by a snort.

After your quick night routine, you got into your comfy shorts and top for sleep and tied your hair into a bun. Laying down in bed you rolled from side to side, unable to find a comfortable position. For over an hour you tried to fall asleep, getting more and more annoyed by the familiar ache for release keeping you from it. You had to do something for it and you hoped to God that Ben wouldn't hear you.

You reached for the drawer on your left and pulled out your good old reliable vibrator. You were damn glad that you decided to pack it up. It was nothing fancy, but in the last desperation, it got its job done well. It had been quite a while since you've used it and you were hoping it would not fail you now.

You quickly discarded your pants, threw them over the edge onto the floor. Your fingers slipped easily through the slick that had drenched your underwear. He didn't even do anything to me. How the fuck am I so wet already?

Your mind was racing when you started to slowly rub your clit. You quickly fell into a familiar rhythm with your fingers, despite it being a long time since you've last masturbated. Pleasuring yourself for a while, you felt the tension starting to build deep in your core, but the release seemed still miles away. It had been too fucking long for you and even now you knew you couldn't get yourself off with just your fingers. You needed more.

You grabbed the vibrator from the bed and slid it up against your clit before turning it on the slowest speed. Your hips bucked involuntarily when the low hum filled the room. The sweet tingling sensation against your bud quickly became almost overbearing.

You were just about to slide it in, when a knock on your door brought you out of your growing bliss.

“Sugar, if you're only relying on that plastic stick to get you off, then I'm honestly not surprised you're so pent up.” Your pussy quivered involuntarily when you heard his low rumble from the other side of the door.

You sat up in bed, trying to slow your breathing. “Leave me alone!” You couldn't bring yourself to tell him to take the toy’s place, that was still turned on in your hands, even though that's what you were imagining.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, I'm coming in.” You saw the door open.

“Ben! What the fuck? No!” You yelled at him as you tried to cover yourself in a hurry, but with no luck because before you got under the covers, Ben's large frame was already in your doorway.

To Be Continued...

Taglist: @jackles010378 @nescavaneck @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @winchesterwild78 @anundyingfidelity @suckitands33 @waynes-multiverse

Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated!🤍

[34saveme34]

Okay so, Thing I realised today

buckle up, it's gonna be something

SO

classic smg34, right?

what do you think of when you remember classic smg34? Angst? Enemies to lovers? Hate so strong could only be love or whatever the name of the trope is? Wrong!

Obsession.

Like, I think he still is, and even the first time we see him, as in 3, his fucking debut episode, albeit he's not that far gone there yet but the beginning of it is right there

he loved 4's content so much, in reality he was trying to make his content so much like 4's as a love letter

no- not that way

like how FNF is a love letter to Newgrounds

except he fuckin sucked at it and it just turned into copying

but like think about it, after that happened, he got obsessed with 4 so much, not just out of hate and to be better than him and all that enemies bullshit but also because he still really admired him and I think he still found it fun to be around him, he just didn't want to admit it (him feeling nice around 4 can also be another thing of their link if we include modern34 as well) because- that's admitting defeat. he's also like, a loner of sorts or at least before all of it, he didn't really have like, a friend to JUST have a friend

even with Bowser, they were kind of friends out of working at the same job so like- and also the dynamics there I bet he wasn't satisfied with

like I bet even beside Bowser he felt lonely, and definitely partly because he way too obsessed with 4 to realise that he actually had people in his life

like lowkey his life kinda crumbled out of his grasp then because he let his obsession with 4 get this much to his head, to the point of doing things without planning even- I mean, I bet he didn't plan to EAT the god damn youtube remote

and like you can kinda see the same thing with his heist gang who were replacing the others in Youtube arc, he didn't care to be a good leader, all he wanted is to satisfy his obsession with 4, which is probably why that crew like, didn't get to grow a stronger dynamic, HE was the weak link in all of this and made the team like that

And now you might be asking, what does this has to do with Trash Friends?

You see, before genesis kicked off and like the whole 10 year anniversary

like AGAIN, AUGh AGAIANNNANANANANANanAN

I mentioned this before and I still hold to it, 3 got to redeem himself not because of suffering, but because of finding an outlet for himself- that ISN'T 4!! He didn't take over the Graveyard to take revenge on 4, he took it over because 1, it was kinda his destiny and 2 because he had to survive somehow and he found purpose in it

And now, shit mellowed out BECAUSE he wasn't so obsessed with 4 anymore, at least not like that

which meant he wasn't in 4's shadows anymore

even though the universe paired them up (in more than one way :3) he wasn't just 4's obsessed kind of stalker anymore

AND NOW- why oh WHY is Trash Friends so significant? Because 3 is fearful and lives in the past

"You are just a worse version of me" it's like he's recalling the past, he doesn't want to go back to that, to go back to the old ways when 4 didn't consider him a friend, he's so so scared of fucking that up and like- like like like- if we go further on this, isn't it so obvious? They're both like, anxiously cling onto the past, even though they've grown now, they keep regressing because of the fear

and I think- I think Trash Friends started to remedy it

BECAUSE it broke the cycle. 3 opened up, 4 realised how he's been thinking in the past too and probably felt awful for it

I don't think it SOLVED it persay but it definitely started to

like I do wish we saw a little more of that with the 2 like, even if just for a tiny scene, taking their time to communicate

because I'm prrretty sure that was what Trash Friends was supposed to be starting

and not gonna lie, probably why we get the silly videos with them working together

but I do wish wish wish we saw a little more of them talking about it

But I can definitely say, there's still things they need to discuss, things to fully get over and to get stronger together, especially pointing at SMG4 simulator with 3 seemingly being an epic rare special catch of sorts and YET still being negative points and also the timer skipping 34, like 4 is trying to push aside his feeling for 3

which is why I think if they do it right with the right things, smg34 becoming canon could be one of the most natural processes of SMG4 history

And thank you for reading! Hope I got you convinced :33

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Overall, I think Stolas handled the actual offer of the crystal pretty well? He explained what the crystal was for and what Blitzo having it would mean - both in the sense that now he could go to Earth all he wanted without having to worry about being caught, and how Blitzo having it would technically mean he works "for" Asmodeus from that point on. And he does make it clear that he does want Blitzo to stay a part of his life. He just wants to it to be fully Blitzo's choice and not a situation where Blitzo feels like he's obligated to sleep with Stolas or else he has to give up his job - which is implied to be the only work he can get that he's both good at and pays him decently enough.

The only major thing I think he did wrong with the actual offer was how he led into it? I mean, probably would have been better to do the explanation about the crystal and at least offer it before asking for the grimoire back permanently? Because what Stolas actually did was kind of messed up? Just saying he needed his book back for good, making Blitzo think Stolas was effectively shutting his business now because they hadn't been sleeping together for a few months (something that was apparently Stolas's choice, based on what Blitzo said near the start of the episode) and causing him to legitimately panic and start literally begging. And then only revealing the crystal after that?

Yeah, Stolas, not sure if you were just tapping into your inner theater kid for that, but that wasn't exactly going to help your case.