#ao3 features

[dappersfm]

maybe I should get better at writing purely for this reason

[edit: the link does not work whoops]

GUYS. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WRITE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FICS ON AO3

[shantismurf]

TIL "Fannish Next of Kin" is a thing! Defined as "someone to manage your fannish works if you die or are permanently incapacitated," its rather like your next of kin irl. I'm sure we've all thought of it...what would happen to our wips and works if we were suddenly just gone. But, much like rl end-of-life-planning, I haven't done bunk to actually make a plan. Maybe this is the time to get it done!

So, how do you do it? There's no form or check box or any easily-accessed documentation on the Archive that would give you a clue this is a thing that exists, unfortunately. The way to get it done is to email Archive Support and make the request. 🤦‍♀️

Specifically, "Both you and your fannish next-of-kin need to send a message to our Support team, which handles next of kin requests, indicating that you want to have them as your fannish next-of-kin and that they agree. You need to provide your Archive usernames for our records. When we receive matching requests, we will confirm that a fannish next-of-kin arrangement is in place." (From https://archiveofourown.org/tos_faq#next_of_kin)

[goldfishinaplasticbag]

jax irl rambles of angel + angel scary hotline voice + probably rich + presumed older than dick = another bruce............

[sandflakedraws]

YOUR FLICKORY SENT ME INTO A GAY PANIC I LOVE IT especially your human designs omg

tHENK U!!!! i do like the human designs i came up with~

I've been going NUTS about Flickory lately. These Two. Compel me. These two who do not even share screen time.... that's where the heck it's at for me, apparently.

i do have one other human drawin on hand for ya (onesided tho it may be)

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I love when I get the "inspired by" email! It doesn't happen very often, but it's such a thrill when I get to click the link!!

btw this isn't a vague/subtweet (post?) or anything but just so y'all know, there's a way to mark things as "inspired by" on ao3

you don't have to just put it in the notes!! very cool under-utilized feature

[awhoreintheory]

You know that story about a motorcycle gang that, essentially, adopts child abuse victims? Like, they go to court with them, stand guard outside their houses, and even make them little jackets?

Imagine Jason, who didn't have the best childhood, who always looks out for the kids of crime Alley (enough so one of his huge rules is "don't deal to kids or I deal with you") and his people catch onto this, yknow

Yeah. That's Red Hood gang fs.

Some of them are only there because Red Hood is the new top dog, sure, but some are also there because they like working under Red Hood. He's really not a terrible guy once you get past the 8 heads in a duffle bag!

And so I think, it wasn't Red Hood himself that started going to child abuse court cases and standing guard around their house at night first, but rather his men. It wasn't something he ordered them to do, and it wasn't ever explicitly brought up, but I Red Hood seamlessly integrated this new little division into his Crime Lord activities.

There was a schedule for who was on Crime stuff, and who got to beat the shit out of little Maxwell's abusive shitbag dad.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[rynli]

I’m not dead I just can’t draw lately

Have a bunch of random disco doodles from the last month

[anti-ao3]

if you still donate to ao3 even though:

ao3 censors any support for palestine

they barely improve the website despite surpassing their donation goals every single time

they do not see anything wrong with RPF that sexualizes REAL minors

they excuse racist fanworks, they actually suspend anyone who does not feel comfortable with pedo/incest shippers, or literally anyone who labels themselves antis or anti p/roships

they also don't see anything wrong with ai generated stories that most likely steal from real writers that put their heart and soul into their works

and perhaps a lot more things they do that i might be forgetting

seriously.

if you get mad at marginalized ppl calling out ao3, and you act entitled when your fandom interests are being threatened, then you're a privileged asshole. if you call everyone "puritans" or "stupid kids" for being critical of ao3, you're a privileged asshole. this is not about you. this is about the actual harm ao3 does to real people. your favorite fanfictions should not be your priority. especially if you want to keep supporting palestine or people of color in general, you can't just get mad when they point out the flaws of ao3 and stop supporting them when they're not convenient to you.

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXIV // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) After the unpleasant encounter with Faye at the museum, Quinn awaits Ben's return.

Chapter Word Count: 7.5K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader (is she even morally grey anymore? Idk. We love a good character growth arc tho), strong language, adult and sexual themes, smut including: penetrative sex, overstimulation, toys. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

There was a lot you could have done with the last twelve days. You could have picked up a new language, or sailed to New York and back. You could have fermented your own vodka, learned piano or guitar, watched the entire Lord of the Rings series sixteen-and-a-half times over. But you hadn’t done any of those things. In fact, for twelve days you’d barely done anything at all. 

Since the moment you’d left that museum, Faye’s words had followed you like a dark cloud, looming over you wherever you went, casting a shadow no matter how hard you tried to escape it. Your lips bore the evidence of your bad mood, bitten and raw from your relentless, anxious gnawing, and sleep had become an elusive companion, only claiming you once your body finally gave in to exhaustion. 

It angered you, the power she somehow managed to wield; how she’d so easily found a way through your hard exterior, slithering right down to the place where words could still hurt you. It felt as though you’d let her win, like your insecurity was her victory, each day you spent stewing in uncertainty just another triumph to add to her list. 

Ben’s absence hadn’t helped; the thought of his return like a buoy and a burden all at once. For almost two weeks, you’d felt a knot form in your stomach whenever he called; feeling guilt and dread where excitement should have been. You’d adorned a smile, feigned a light, warm voice, and pretended not to notice how unnatural it felt.

Social media only seemed to make it worse; what was once a harmless distraction had morphed into a minefield of footage from his premieres and press junkets. You would lose yourself in his easy charm and handsome smile, scroll endlessly through clips of him in his tailored suits and tinted sunglasses as he walked carpets and stopped for interviews. But as quickly as the pride and longing came, the doubt would soon follow.

You were caught in a relentless cycle of grief and self-criticism. The life Faye claimed you couldn’t give to him taunting you whenever you tried to picture yourself by his side. Yet, beneath the turmoil, there was an ember of stubbornness that refused to be extinguished; a flicker of determination, to spite her, to prove her wrong, to not let go of the man who’d given you no reason to doubt him.   

 The café in the Draft foyer was rarely busy; a pocket of quiet amidst the chaos of a bustling building. You stood at the counter, basking in the warm, comforting aroma of coffee, the only sounds coming from the hiss of steaming milk and the quiet chatter of baristas as they worked. You scrolled idly on your phone as you waited for your drink, thumb pausing on an image of Ben from his latest premiere. He was smiling, arm raised as he waved to the crowd of fans swarming the barriers. You instinctively found yourself zooming in on his wrist; the way your gold nameplate bracelet caught the light with a subtle glint. Then you moved to his face, the glowing tan and dark facial hair making a welcomed return. 

“You’re obsessed.” Nick’s voice startled you. 

You turned around to find him looking down at your phone with a teasing smile, a lanyard around his neck and a backpack on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” you said, pushing your phone into your back pocket.

“It’s sweet,” he said. “Don’t be embarrassed for having a fit boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and shifting your weight from side to side. “What are you doing here? I barely ever see you in the office anymore.” 

“Just heading out to an interview, needed to come and pick up my press pass from Julia.”

You let out a half-hearted hum in response, taking your coffee as the barista placed it on the counter.

Nick followed as you made your way to a table, shifting his bag further up his shoulder. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” 

“Liar.” 

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you sat down.

He deliberated for a moment, like he was weighing up whether to press you or leave you be. By the time he’d sat down beside you, he’d seemingly decided to drop it, clearing his throat and excitedly shuffling his chair closer to you. 

“I’m actually glad I caught you,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Oh no, what have I done?” 

Nothing,” he laughed. “I need your advice- opinion- help, all of it really.” 

Your ears pricked, eyes fixed on him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled in silence for a moment before finally turning the screen towards you with a nervous smile.

“Which one?” he asked. 

You leaned in, lips parting in shock when you laid your eyes on a photo; five open boxes laid out on a glass counter, each one holding a sparkling diamond ring. 

“You’re proposing!?” you shouted, voice echoing across the quiet space. 

He shushed you before lowering his tone to a whisper. “Yeah. I’ve been saving for a while, but I haven’t got a clue which one she’d like best.”

You practically snatched the phone from his hand, bringing it close to your face and examining each ring carefully. “None of them.”

“What?” 

“Well first of all, they’re all white gold. Lacey’s clearly a yellow gold person.”

“Oh.”

“Secondly, you should go for a coloured stone. Maybe morganite, emerald, sapphire, something different, unique.” 

“You think so?” 

“Definitely.”

“Right.” He sighed, taking his phone back. “Back to the drawing board then.” 

You couldn’t help the smile beginning to spread across your face, brows curving upward as you looked at him with pride. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you said.

“She hasn’t said yes yet.” 

“She will. How are you going to do it?”

“I was thinking when the next issue of Draft comes out, I’ll show her my Divine Timing piece, let her read it, and when she’s done, she’ll look up and I’ll be on one knee.” 

You didn’t reply.

“What?” he asked. “Is that not good either?”

“No, no… It’s perfect.” 

He smiled appreciatively before rising from his seat and hoisting his bag back onto his shoulder. “Yellow gold, coloured stone.” 

“Definitely.” 

He nodded and began to walk away, repeating it to himself over and over again until he vanished from your sight.

You paced the hall as you waited for a knock at the door, biting your already raw bottom lip until you began to taste iron on your tongue. The flat was immaculate. You weren’t sure why you’d bothered cleaning it so thoroughly; it wasn’t as if Ben would care, wasn’t like he’d come in and run his fingers along the skirting boards for dust, eye the windows for smudges. But maybe it was just the distraction it provided; the mundanity of housework allowing brief moments of relief from your whirring mind.

He'd been gone for three weeks. And you’d spent the majority of that time wrought with uncertainty; playing over every possible scenario, talking aloud to practice what you would say to him when you finally came face to face again. You’d buzzed him in just seconds ago, and as you paced back and forth you could almost picture him rushing up the stairwell, growing closer with every tick of the watch on your wrist. 

When the knock finally came, you felt your heart leap into your throat, an undeniable wave of excitement flooding your stomach. You hurried to the door and swung it open, unable to hold back a smile when you saw him standing there; bearded and sun kissed, an almost mirror image of the Ben you’d first met. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice rough and tired, yet still warm. And before you could reply, he dropped his bag to the ground, taking a step forward and pulling you into a tight embrace. He groaned with relief as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured. 

You couldn’t help but melt into him, taking in his scent that, even after hours of travel, was still so familiar and comforting, the rhythmic thudding of his heart as you pressed your ear to his chest.  

“I missed you too,” you replied. 

“I’m never going that long without you again. Next time you’re coming, no arguments.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat, the sound muffled by his shirt. You lifted your head to look at him. “Next time is three days from now.” 

“Yeah, and you’re coming.” 

You laughed again as he leaned back slightly to look down at you, bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. His gaze glittered with affection, flitting between your eyes and lips with such longing that any insecurities you’d had almost seemed to vanish. You lifted your chin slightly, welcoming the inevitable kiss. And when it finally came, you gave in to it completely. 

His lips were soft as they moved slowly over yours, savouring the connection like he’d thought of nothing else for the past three weeks. You slid your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, leaning into him as he weaved his fingers through your hair. 

“You need to come in so I can shut the door,” you mumbled. “Someone could walk past.” 

He responded by reaching back and pushing the front door closed, keeping his focus on you the entire time as his lips trailed softly over your cheeks, your jaw, the outer corners of your eyes and the crinkle between your brows, kissing every small detail of your face. 

You smiled. “Did you come straight from the airport?”

“Mhm.” 

“You must be exhausted.”

He responded with another lazy hum as he began walking you backwards down the hall. 

“I put a towel out for you in the bathroom,” you said. “Even bought you your own shower gel.” 

“Really?” 

“Mm,” you replied as he continued to kiss you. “And I’ve got dinner on in the kitchen.”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

“I’m the real Quinn I swear,” you said sarcastically.

He gave a deep chuckle, stroking your hair away from your face and placing one last kiss on your lips. “A shower does sound quite appealing right now. Do you want to join me?”

You tilted your head, giving a soft smile and running your fingertip over his bottom lip. “I’ve got stuff on the hob, need to keep an eye on it so the flat doesn’t burn down.” 

There was a split second when you could have sworn you saw him pause, like he was going to question you but quickly changed his mind. Instead, he let you go, making his way to the bathroom as you wandered into the kitchen, pressing your cool palms to your flushed cheeks and exhaling a nervous breath. 

Your knees buckled when you saw him in the doorway; towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water speckled over his bare chest and shoulders. A clean, masculine scent drifted towards you, heady and intoxicating, making your mind turn foggy as you stared at him in awe.

He made his way into the kitchen, padding leisurely towards you as you stood at the stove. You felt his hands snake around your waist, resting on your hips as his chest pressed against your back.

“You’re getting me wet,” you said with a slight giggle.

“Hm,” he replied flirtatiously, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” 

“No, wet like wet.” You laughed, gesturing to the water he’d soaked into the back of your t-shirt. 

“I’m just teasing,” he replied, lips moving slowly to the back of your shoulder. 

You lifted the lid off a saucepan, waiting for the steam to evaporate before stirring the bubbling liquid inside. You could feel him, hot and hard against your back, tilting your head to one side to grant him easier access to you. His large hands gripped your hips as he nipped and kissed your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your pulse as his wet hair brushed against your cheek. 

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, fighting to remain composed, to ignore the tingles travelling up your spine and the desire throbbing between your legs. You tried to busy yourself with dinner, reaching to the cupboard above you and peering inside. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked between kisses. 

“The erm…” You’d lost your train of thought, your mind hazy, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of him behind you. “Er… Salt. Salt and…” 

He reached over you, retrieving the salt and pepper shakers and placing them on the counter.

“Thank you,” you said, almost breathlessly. 

His kisses slowed, like the tension in your body was becoming impossible for him to ignore. He pulled back, just enough to peer down at you, brow furrowed with concern. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“Hm? Nothing.”

His hands moved up to your waist, turning you around to face him. “What’s wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you were trying to deflect, why after all this time, when faced with the chance to communicate, your instincts still forced you to shut it down. “Why would something be wrong?”

“Because if nothing was wrong, you’d have dragged me into that bedroom the second I stepped through the door…” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Quinn,” he pressed. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m fine.”

He stared down at you for a moment, his expression completely unconvinced. You wriggled gently out of his grasp, walking over to the sink and grabbing a knife from the draining board.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said. 

“Well, I am,” you replied bluntly, turning around with the knife firmly in your grasp.

He held his hands up in feigned surrender. “Alright, Jesus Christ.” 

“It’s for garlic,” you replied with another eye roll, making your way back over to the counter beside him.

“Quinn,” he said with a slight laugh of disbelief. “Something’s clearly wrong. I don’t understand why you don’t feel like you can talk to me-”

“Ben.”

“I just want to know what happened-”

“Your ex-wife happened,” you snapped. “Alright?” 

 He looked confused, nose scrunched as his eyes glazed over, just for a moment. “What?” 

You put down the knife, turning to face him with a hot sigh. “I ran into her at an event.” 

“Faye?”

“Do you have more ex-wives?”

He huffed, gesturing for you to continue. 

“I ran into her and she had some very… choice words for me. Some I don’t entirely disagree with.” 

“Like what?”

“Like we’re… not- Like this isn’t-” you huffed and turned to walk away. “Y’know what, it doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does,” he said firmly, grabbing your arm before you could leave the room. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously bothered you enough to make it hard to even look at me right now. So, you need to tell me. Now.”

You yielded, turning around and leaning back against the fridge, arms folded across your chest. You hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you found yourself staring at the floor. So, you forced yourself to look up at him. 

“She said we’re not equal. Me and you. And that we never will be.” You swallowed. “I bring nothing to the table financially, we’re not in the same place in life or career or aspirations. I’m just a bit of fun you’re messing around with instead of-”

“Instead of what?” he replied, anger darkening his tone. “Instead of staying in a PR marriage just to pacify everyone else except myself?” 

“She insinuated that you’re just ‘getting things out of your system’ with me, and once the novelty wears off, you’ll realise I’m not right for you and you’ll move on to someone who is.”

His jaw sharpened, throat bobbing as he tried to swallow down his rage. He planted a hand on the counter beside him, grounding himself as he tried to process your words. “When was this?” he asked calmly. “Where?”

“An exhibition at the fashion museum, a couple of days after you left.”

He blinked a few times. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would it have achieved?” You shrugged. “You were on the other side of the world for work. It would have just bothered you, ruined your time out there.” 

He exhaled heavily through his nose, the breath rattling like a growl as it left him. “You know this all stems from jealousy on her part, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond, making him look over at you with more intensity, his brows coming together as he took in the look on your face. 

“Quinn… You know that, right?”

I don’t know. Some of the things she said, I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking that maybe she had somewhat of a point…” 

“What else did she say?” 

“Ben,” you sighed, closing your eyes and running your hands through your hair. 

“Quinn,” he said sternly. “In this relationship, we communicate.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

He glared at you.   

You threw your head back dramatically, letting out a groan before looking back over at him. “It’s just… It’s what I’ve already told you; we’re not compatible, economically or aspiration-wise or-”

“What does that even mean?”

“That you’re rich and I’m poor,” you replied curtly.

“Not that, for fuck sake, the aspiration thing.” 

You could feel yourself clamming up, your mouth turning dry and cheeks flushing with discomfort. You shifted on your feet, biting another cut into your lip. “Well, she just- She made a good point that you are… Very certain of what you want. And if you continue to waste your time with me, if I continue to let you waste your time with me, I could be holding you back from getting it.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He was growing irate again, his voice deepening, turning hoarse and firm.

“Well, no, it’s not really, is it.”

“Yes. It is.”

“No, it’s not, Ben! It’s not irrational of me to be concerned that a year, two years, however long down the line, you could look back and realise you spent all that time with me when you could have been out there meeting your soulmate, your next wife, the mother of your children!” 

He stared at you, open-mouthed for a moment, his face twisted in a mixture of ire and confusion. Eventually, it seemed to overwhelm him, making him drop his head with a frustrated huff, pressing the heels of his hands into closed eyes. 

“Why…” he began slowly, controlling his words as they left him in a deep, gravelly voice. “Is it not at all possible that… that person could be you…?” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Ben-”

“What!? Why can’t you consider the fact that maybe neither of us are wasting our time, because we’re supposed to be spending it with each other!?” 

“Oh my god, it’s just so easy for you, isn’t it!” You threw your arms up dramatically. “Sometimes feelings just aren’t enough. You can’t enter into a relationship without at least considering where that relationship might end up.” 

“This is never going to stop, is it?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “No matter what I do, what I say, you are never going to believe that this could work.” 

“I want to,” you replied, caught off guard by a crack in your voice. “But when Faye said that you want things I might not be able to give you, I couldn’t-”

“Quinn. The first night we slept together, you told me, plain as day, that you were undecided about having children. I’ve known that since the beginning, never forgotten it, and I still chose to pursue you. Because I love you more than I love some kids that we may or may not have.” 

“It’s not just about having kids. It’s… She said I’d be dooming myself to a life as an extension of you. That I’d be a ‘kept woman’.”

His face broke with an unexpected smile, a laugh escaping him in a breath. “I can just about handle you as it is. Do you really think you’d ever let yourself be kept?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just so simple for you, isn’t it.” 

“Yes.” He turned his body to lean back against the counter, mirroring your crossed arms. “So, it’s me who buys the house.” He shrugged. “As long as I get to wake up next to you in it every morning, I’d consider us even.” 

The charm of his suggestion made you melt, just for a moment, before quickly stiffening again. “But that’s not ‘even’, Ben. Not really. You deserve someone who fits seamlessly into your life, and I just can’t shake the fear that they’re out there, and they’re perfect for you. I would never forgive myself if I held you back from finding her.” 

“And what does this ‘perfect woman’ consist of?”

“She’s certain she wants a family. She’s perfectly content with the two of you being known as ‘Benedict Cumberbatch and wife’. She comes from wealth, has the money to treat you to nice champagne and expensive gifts. She doesn’t pick fights or think it’s funny to make you jealous. She…” You halted, feeling a sudden, unexpected lump in your throat, a fizzing in your nose and welling in your eyes. “She doesn’t push you away when you’re always so lovely and patient with her. She’s a good person who really, truly deserves you.”

He remained quiet, mulling over your words, eyes fixed on the emotion you were so desperately trying to hold back.

“Can I tell you what I think this perfect woman consists of?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. 

“She’s open to maybe having a family one day. She may sometimes be ‘and wife’ to the media, but in reality, we both know it’s me who’s the ‘and husband’. She doesn’t care about money or whether she has it or not, and she always makes sure to tell me off when she thinks I’ve overspent. She’s… Impossible, infuriating, combative, but she knows I can take it. And that maybe I find it a bit sexy.” 

You laughed softly. 

“She’s a good person,” he continued, emphasising his words. “Who deserves whatever it is she desires. And if that’s me, then I consider myself lucky.” 

You stared at him from across the small kitchen, glassy-eyed and entirely awestruck. It was quiet, the air between you so still that even your breath seemed out of place. 

“I love you,” you whispered. 

He paused, allowing the words to fully sink in before smiling softly. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked teasingly. 

“I love you.”

His smile turned to a grin. “One more time, I didn’t quite catch it.” 

You rolled your eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

He made his way towards you, taking your face in his hands and tilting it back to look up at him. “I love you too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “And I can’t believe I just had that entire conversation with you in nothing but a towel.” 

You chuckled.

His expression turned serious again as he stared down into your eyes. “I have doubts too. Sometimes I feel like I’ve come into your life and completely turned it upside down; put rules on you, restrictions, expectations. You never asked for any of that. But then… I think about how we got off to such a bad start when we met, yet still, we somehow ended up here. That’s got to mean something.” 

“It means you’re too nice and I don’t take no for an answer.” 

He laughed, running his fingers through your hair. “It means we’d be stupid to throw this away.” 

You smiled, rising onto your toes to kiss him. He held you close, inhaling deeply as his lips moved slowly against yours.

He broke away, looking down at you with an amused smirk. “You know, for someone who doesn’t take shit from anybody, you really let my jealous ex-wife get into your head.”

“It’s not Faye that’s got into my head. It’s you.” You shook your head as you gazed up at him, your voice nothing but a whisper as you spoke again. “I’ve never let anyone get this close to me before…” 

“Well, I’m honoured to be the one you decided to let in.” 

This vulnerability was new for you. It made you feel fragile, exposed, like a knight without armour, a porcupine without its quills. Until Ben, you’d simply assumed it wasn’t in your nature to take this role; to be tender, maybe even soppy, softening yourself completely and trusting him to hold you without crushing you in his fists. You’d never let anyone take the lead, never allowed yourself to be coddled, doted on, handled with such reverence that you felt no desire to fight it. 

Perhaps you’d been capable of it all along; could have opened yourself up to anyone who’d came before him and felt a connection just as strong. Or maybe this part of you had always been reserved especially for him; a locked door that only he had the key to. You would never know for sure. But you were okay with that. 

Ben’s thumb gently caressed your cheek, his lips grazing the side of your head in a sequence of slow, loving kisses. You smiled and leaned back slightly to look up at him. 

“Okay, this is getting sappy now,” you muttered teasingly as you pulled him down to kiss you. 

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling in his throat and humming softly against your lips.

“Go and get dressed,” you said. “I’ll finish dinner.”

“Okay,” he replied with a smile. 

You watched as he made his way towards the door, before turning back to look at you, the smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you asked with a breathy laugh.

“That was a very grown-up fight we just had.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned towards the stove. “It wasn’t a fight. It was a heated discussion.”

He laughed, the sound disappearing with him down the hall. 

A quiz show played quietly on the TV, the sun casting a golden hue across the living room as you sat cross-legged on the couch. There was a cushion in your lap, shielding your legs from the piping hot bowl, and a glass of water on the coffee table just out of reach. Ben was sitting beside you, leaning forward as he ate, handing you your drink every time you asked without complaint. 

You listened as he told you about his time away; the funny posters fans held up in the crowd, how he almost missed a premiere when his driver took a wrong turn, and the coffee he spilled on himself before his flight had even taken off. When he asked you how your time alone had been, you couldn’t help but feel boring in comparison; writing, grocery shopping, a few work meetings you barely paid attention to. 

“Oh,” you said, swallowing a mouthful of food before continuing. “My friend Nick’s proposing to his girlfriend.” 

“Ah how lovely. Tonight?” 

“No. Soon, though. I helped him pick the ring.”

Ben eyed your smile, unable to hide his own amusement. “Have they been together long?”

“A few years, I think. Why?”

He gave a casual shrug, still smiling. “No reason.” 

 You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. It took a battle just to get you to wear that watch, can you imagine if I tried to give you a ring?” 

You looked down at the watch and rolled your eyes before trying to reach for your water. He handed it to you with a chuckle, taking another bite of his food as he waited for you to take a sip and hand it back.

The TV continued to play in the background, the sound of audience applause and laughter like a gentle hum softening the silence. 

“You know,” he mused. “I never thought I’d see the day when you actually wore it.” 

You looked down at the watch again, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “It seemed a shame to just leave it sitting there. I did contemplate taking it off after what happened with Faye. But I like the compliments too much.” 

He laughed and went back to his dinner, the pair of you falling back into easy conversation. It was another moment where you found it easy to forget his fame, how absurd it was to have a celebrity sitting on your couch eating rice and dal from your mismatched dinnerware.

The sun was beginning to set, the living room glowing with a deep, golden hue like the promise of a warm evening. You were laying alone on the couch, speaking aloud your answers to another quiz show and swearing to yourself whenever you got them wrong. You could hear Ben singing in the other room, the sound of clinking ceramic and running water punctuating the dulcet tone of his voice. 

You stretched lazily and rose to your feet, wandering out of the living room and through the doorway of the kitchen. He was standing at the sink with his back to you, broad shoulders moving slightly as he scrubbed at the pots and pans beneath the soapy water. You allowed yourself a moment to just watch him; comfortable clothes and bare feet, singing a song that was too high for his voice and not caring if you could hear him. 

You wandered over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his back. He stilled for a moment at your unexpected touch, before relaxing quickly and continuing to wash up.

“Well, this is new,” he said. “Usually I’m the one ambushing you with affection.”

You sighed contentedly, tightening your hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Of course not.” He rinsed off a pot and placed it on the draining board, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for a tea towel to dry his hands. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m just soaking up the fact that you’re actually here and not on FaceTime halfway across the world.”  

He turned around with a smile and pulled you closer to him. “I missed you too, darling.” 

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip, which you tried to disguise by biting your already cracked, tender bottom lip. 

He brought his thumb up to it, gently releasing it from your teeth. “Stop biting,” he said softly.

“Sorry, it’s a nervous thing.” 

“I make you nervous?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, breathing out a laugh as you brought your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He reciprocated eagerly with a satisfied groan, letting his hands roam your body until his grip finally found your backside.

You leaned into him, pressing yourself flush against his body as you swept your tongue into his mouth. The energy between you began to pulse, turning hot and electric; making your skin tingle, the hairs on your arms stand on end. You reached back and grabbed one of his hands, taking a step back and leading him towards the door. 

The air was cooler in the bedroom, the thick curtains shielding the space from the glowing sun. You pulled him towards the bed, turning him around and pushing him onto it with unabashed haste. He propped himself up on his elbows as you straddled him, his lips finding yours again in a quicker, hungrier kiss.

You gripped the hem of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head, tossing it aside as your lips moved to his neck, his collarbones and the bare, slightly paler skin of his chest. He smelled like the soap you’d bought him, the clean, masculine scent enveloping you as he held you in his arms. It smelled different on him than it had in the bottle; earthier, manlier, evoking something carnal inside you that made you want to dive in without coming up for air.

His hands dipped beneath your top, fingers grazing the ticklish spots over your ribs, nails raking gently down your sides. You shivered as your skin puckered with goosebumps, the sensation rolling down your body and settling between your legs with a tingling, insatiable need. It made you squirm, searching for friction as you continued to lay kisses across his chest.

He lifted the top over your head before brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen into your face, pausing for just a moment to look at you.    

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you,” you said.

He smiled. “I was just going to say I love you.” 

You leaned forward, kissing him slowly, deeply, rocking your hips over the hard bulge in his jogging bottoms. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips.

He let himself fall back completely, surrendering himself to you as you returned your mouth to his chest, trailing down his torso towards his waistband. You could feel him tense beneath your lips, muscles hardening, rolling beneath soft skin with even the slightest movement. But then he stopped. 

“Hold on,” he said. 

You lifted your head to see him reaching for something beneath your pillows, watching as he pulled out a small vibrator and turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you expect me to do when you’re gone?” you asked.

“Pine after me longingly, while awaiting my return in perfect chastity,” he replied sarcastically.

You scoffed and climbed off him. “Take off your pants.” 

He did as you instructed, his eyes never leaving you as you stripped down to your underwear. You wished you’d thought ahead when you got dressed this morning and worn nicer lingerie, or at the very least, made sure your bra matched your knickers. But Ben didn’t seem to care, his gaze ravenous as it raked over you, following your every move until you were back on top of him.

You ran your finger over the tan line at the base of his throat, preparing to tease him for it. But before any words could leave you, he placed a hand on the back of your head and pulled you down to kiss him, his hot breath and skilled tongue turning your mind hazy, the desire to say something funny or sarcastic evaporating from you like steam. He was growing impatient, you could feel it in the way he rolled his hips beneath you, his erection pressing against your aching centre, begging to be released.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms, the cups falling away from your chest. He wasted no time in taking your breasts in his large palms, kneading them gently, fingers pinching your hard, tight nipples until the sensation made you gasp. He shifted slightly, sitting up just enough to lean back against the headboard, bringing his mouth to each nipple as his hand caressed the other. It was electric, each flick of his tongue or squeeze of his fingers sending a jolt of lightning through your stomach. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, rocking against his hard length as you tried to quell the throbbing in your clit, the deep, insatiable need in your core. 

“Say you’ll come with me on the next press tour,” he whispered, hands travelling from your breasts over your stomach.    

“It’s in three days, how can I just up and leave? I don’t even know where you’re going-”

“Los Angeles, then New York, then Los Angeles again,” he said, his voice seductively low, fingers making it to the waistline of your underwear. “But nothing’s stopping us from taking a detour or two; we could fly to Mexico for a few days, or maybe Argentina, Colombia, Brazil-”

“Okay I get the picture,” you said breathlessly as he slipped his hand into your underwear, fingertips finally making contact with your centre.    

“Is that a yes?” 

You let out a moan as he began to massage your clit, making you shudder and grip the headboard above him to steady yourself. 

You’d gotten on top of him with the intention of being in charge, of taking the lead. But somehow here you were, straddling him yet still completely at his mercy. The extent of your arousal was undeniable as he slid his fingers along your hot, wet entrance, the discovery making him groan with a mixture of pride and desire. He bucked against you, and you responded by reaching down to release him from his underwear, as though the idea of foreplay hadn’t even crossed your mind, or you were simply too horny to care.

His cock sprung free against your stomach and you gripped it firmly in your hand. “If I agree to come, will you make it worth my while?”

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as he gazed up at you. “Anything you want,” he whispered. “It’s yours.” 

You smiled, stroking him lazily as you spoke. “I want you.”

“Then you’ve got me.” He ran his hand slowly up your body, over your stomach and between your breasts, his palm finally settling at the base of your throat. “Every free moment.” He curled his fingers around your neck. “Every spare second.” 

You paused for a moment, revelling in the depth of his voice, the pressure of his fingertips against your pulse and the way his hips rolled to meet the relaxed rhythm of your hand. When you leaned forward to kiss him, he responded with a soft growl against your lips, tightening his grip on your throat as you slid your underwear aside and positioned him at your entrance. 

You slid him into you with a sigh, releasing every ounce of fear and uncertainty you’d been holding onto in his absence, the connection so beautiful it was hard to believe you’d ever doubted it at all. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as your hand immediately found the headboard above him, holding onto it as you began to move, sinking down to the root of his length and grinding against him. 

The friction was intense, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs as he filled you. He was motionless beneath you; letting you set the pace, the angle, the depth. But his hand remained on your neck, like an anchor, a reminder that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

You kept a grip of the headboard, your other hand planted on his chest as you rocked your hips, revelling in each wave of pleasure as it rippled through your core, the tingly, electric buzz coursing beneath your skin. He kept his eyes on you, watching your face closely, your fluttering lids and parted lips, undeniable evidence of your satisfaction. 

“Tell me you love me again,” he groaned.

You lowered your gaze to meet his with a slight smile, and for a moment you thought about teasing him, denying his request and making him beg for it. But the feeling of him inside you was too pervading, disabling your sarcasm and stealing your wit, leaving you soft and agreeable, like putty in his hands.

“I love you,” you replied breathlessly.

Your words seemed to fuel him, making him bring his other hand up to double his grip of your throat. You whimpered as he began to move, every firm jolt sending a shudder through your stomach and a shiver up your spine. You began to bounce slightly, your moans growing louder as you met each hard thrust, ignoring the burning in your thighs and the creak of the bedframe beneath him.

Your voice echoed through the room, a cacophony of moans and swear words, gasps and increasingly enthusiastic yeses. You would no doubt be apologising to your downstairs neighbours tomorrow. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if the building across the street demanded one too.

There was a familiar swelling of heat in your core, your stomach coiling, driving you to move faster in search of release. But Ben got there first, his hips stuttering as he let out a deep, guttural groan, burying himself inside you as he came. 

You slowed your movements to a lazy grind, leaning back slightly to catch your breath when a dull buzzing caught your attention. You looked down to see him holding your vibrator, clicking the button a few times before placing it gently on your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation; the unexpected act that caught you completely off guard. 

 “Oh, god.” You could barely speak, stuttering out the words through a serrated breath.

He watched you closely, adjusting his placement until your mouth fell open, stomach muscles tensing as you grabbed his thighs for support. The device sucked and pulsed against your clit, making you squirm on his cock as your limbs began to shake. The world around you seemed to disappear, like nothing else existed beyond the pleasure dancing along your nerves, like the entire universe had somehow been condensed into the tiny bundle between your legs.  

You shuddered; eyes screwed shut as you let out a deep, heavy groan. For a moment you couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, every last speck of energy spent on the orgasm ripping through you. And as quickly as the pleasure peaked, it instantly turned to pain, your clit so sensitive that all you could think to do was push Ben’s hand away. 

He switched off the vibrator and tossed it aside, gazing up at you with a satisfied smirk as you shook uncontrollably on top of him. Your teeth were chattering, limbs gooey and barely functioning. 

“You’re a fucker,” you said, breathing out a stunned laugh.

He chuckled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of your face. 

You tried to calm yourself, inhaling slowly through your nose and blowing it out in shaky, uneven breaths.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

He laughed again before gently rolling you off him and turning on his side to face you. 

You nestled yourself into him, eyelids heavy as you traced swirls over his bare chest with your fingertips. 

“I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to compete with that thing,” he said, gesturing in the direction he’d thrown the vibrator.

You giggled. “Well, that thing can’t kiss me, or manhandle me, or tell me it loves me. So, I think you’re fine.”

He closed his eyes with a sleepy smile. “In that case, feel free to stick it in your suitcase and bring it with us.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “If you’re expecting me to follow you around America for two weeks, then I expect youto make sure I don’t need a vibrator…”

He opened one eye. “Is that an ultimatum?”

“It’s more of a condition.”

“A condition?” 

“Mhm. If I’m going to be sneaking around, cooped up in hotel rooms all on my own while you’re working, then there needs to be… perks.” You let your fingers run further down his chest and over his stomach, making him tense beneath you. 

He chuckled and grabbed your wrist before your hand could dip any lower, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently. “Darling, if you come with me, I’ll be certain to make sure you forget that thing even exists.”

You smiled, watching as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “How long before the jet lag sets in?” 

“No idea. I’m just praying I can get through tomorrow before it does.” 

“Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m taking my parents to the Chelsea Flower Show.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

He shifted even closer to you, draping an arm over the top of your head and twirling your hair between his fingers. “I was actually meaning to speak to you about it… I’d really like it if you came too.” 

You stilled for a moment, before forcing yourself to relax. “How could I possibly look them in the eye after what I just did with their son?”

He gave a soft, throaty laugh. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” 

The air between you fell silent, and you knew he could sense your apprehension, the same way you could tell he wasn’t going to drop it. 

“It’s just a bit soon, don’t you think?” you finally said. “Shouldn’t we wait a while before meeting-”

“I met your parents. Ages ago.”

“Yeah, by accident.” 

“Quinn.” He exhaled a laugh, brushing his nose against the side of your head before placing a kiss there. “I’d really like you to come. No pressure, no expectations, I just want them to meet the woman I’ve been telling them about.” 

“You’ve been telling them about me?”

He nodded. “I left out a lot.”

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @evelynrosestuff @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @jaspearl31 @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby

[erinwantstowrite]

Did Vampire Dick catch on that Peter might be related to him or does he have the LoF facial blindness? /j

he doesn't see the resemblance to himself until someone points it out HAHA he's like "who could this kid be related to?"

[rarepears]

Shen Yuan's transmigration experience starts with a doctor looming over his bed and a beauty sobbing at his bedside...

Drabble on AO3

[dogpawsswapgod]

New chapter! Tobias' wife is gonna kill him when she finds out!

“Took You Long Enough”

a CaitVi soulmates AU inspired by and featuring @somewillwin

[houppellande]

Who got him smilin' like that 👀

Song

[enigmaedid]

“The only thing they can do is watch and wait.

Wait for the moment when it will break.

And when it happens, they will be there.„

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

there is a special kind of frustration to seeing the words You have already left kudos here. :)

like no fuck you AO3 i am fully aware and i WOULD LIKE TO LEAVE MORE I WOULD LIKE TO DROWN BOTH THE FIC AND THE AUTHOR IN KUDOS THANK YOU WILL YOU LET ME DO THAT PLEASE

and then i keep fucking clicking the kudos button each chapter like that will make a difference

[landinrris]

Your monthly reminder for Ao3 that putting any variation of a ship combination in the "Relationship" field gets picked up and deposited into that ship's tag.

"Character a/character b (background)"? Yep! You guessed it! It's going into the tag.

"Minor character a/character b"? That one too!

If the ship you are tagging is being used as a plot device or is truly minor or background in nature, I think I speak for everyone when I say please just put that relationship into the "other tags" box. Your readers will still stay informed that way on what they're getting into, AND you won't anger a bunch of other readers for that other ship because you gave them false hope for new fics.

Cross-tagging doesn't help your exposure, it just gets your username blocked.