#because I feel like an idiot for writing this

[blitheringmcgonagall]

I’m not even on TikTok and I doubt any of my fics get rec’d, but this makes so much sense, let the fic writers know you are loving their work if you value it and would like to read more of it!!

If you are getting views on TikTok by raving about an incredible fic written for free by a creative writer who is getting paid nothing for sharing it, then for the love of god please send some traffic their way!!! 😘😘😘😘

Also be kind in the comments, they are meant to be encouraging and supportive not “I know better than you what this story needed” or “this is how I think it should go” - It’s not your story, so feck off and write your own if that’s how you feel! (Am well aware some of my favourite writers such as @mollymarymarie have stopped writing Wolfstar/ marauders fics because of this and now writing for another fandom and I’m extremely pissed at the plonkers who are responsible for this - you are idiots and you don’t deserve such beauty ☹️)

I don’t usually do discourse on this blog but that last reblog hit the nail on the head. Reader interaction is at an all time low for fic authors and whilst I’m eternally grateful for any and all kudos and comments that I do receive, I feel as if in the past couple of years there’s been this weird migration of comments - they’ve left ao3 and they’re on tiktok instead. So, rather than people leaving comments on my fics, they leave their comments on the videos of people reccing my fics. I see tiktoks about my fics and they’ll have double, triple the number of comments that the fic itself has. It’s so lovely that people are talking about my writing, but it’s just a very strange phenomenon and a very odd feeling when you have a fic that you assume wasn’t overly well received because it has hardly any comments on ao3, but then you see a tiktok full of comments with people saying that it’s their favourite fic.

And I’m going to say something potentially controversial here but not ONCE have I seen a tiktok creator, whose content relies solely on other people’s fics, say anything along the lines of “leave the author a comment if you enjoy the rec.” Literally never ever seen this. And I think that’s a real shame.

[fanficsbysteve]

Jeremy Crow

Note: When I write my BuckTommy stuff, I always draw on my own personal experiences when writing stuff for Tommy. He’s a 40 year old gay man, I’m a 40 year old gay man. His Dad was abusive as shit growing up. My Dad was abusive as shit growing up. So, I feel we could have some very similar stuff happen in our lives. So, I had this thought and figured that in my head this was true. So, enjoy another of my silly little headcanons.

Also available on AO3 if you want to leave Kudos.

***

Tommy took Evan up to his bedroom to get ready for bed, and some other things beforehand but Tommy was not going to push for that. It had been two weeks since they had spoken and realized they were both idiots and decided to try again, just not going at light speed that Evan had been going at. Tommy was going to talk about how things made him feel and wasn’t just ‘trying to keep up’ with Evan’s pace. They were also going to go at Tommy’s pace as well.

     Going into the room, Tommy looked at the bed and spotted something sitting in the middle of the bed. Tommy froze. Oh god he had forgotten to put that away. Evan went past Tommy into the room and his eyes also fell onto the bed, “Oh what’s that?” he asked, looking at the bed as well.

     Sitting in the middle of the pillows was a stuffed crow. It looked like it had seen better days, its better days being three decades ago. The black fuzz that had been its torso had all but worn away, the paint on its eyes had been rubbed off and was just the white of the eyes now. The only part that seemed to have withstood the test of time was the beak of the crow, “Um…” Tommy started, “That would be Jeremy. Jeremy Crow.”

 Tommy looked at the crow sitting on his bed, named after a character from a movie he had watched as a child. He had gotten it when he was around five years old and had been sleeping with him every night since. There was something comforting about having Jeremy with him. He slept better. Tommy sometimes thought that Jeremy kept the bad dreams away. He never had them when he had Jeremy in his arms. He had been trying to hide Jeremy away, not wanting Evan to see him because he was scared of what Evan would think about him. A grown man still sleeping with a stuffed animal from his childhood.

     Evan did something that shocked Tommy. Something he hadn’t expected. Evan walked over to the bed, got in, motioned for Tommy to join him, and handed Jeremy over to Tommy, “So tell me about Jeremy,” Evan asked as he lie down.

     Tommy took Jeremy and held him close, feeling the comfort that Jeremy brought to him, “I’ve had him for years,” Tommy started, “My Mom had seen him at a Garage sale and bought him for me. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up so things like this were rare. My mom did enjoy going to garage sales though. She could always find the most interesting treasures at those,” Tommy went to lay down fully in bed, “She passed away about a year after she gave me Jeremy. It’s the only thing I have left that reminds me of her.”

     Evan pulled Tommy into a cuddle. Wrapping his arms around the both of them, “I’m sorry that happened,” Evan said. Tommy had told him about how his mother had died when he was about 6 years old, and how his home life had gone downhill after that as his father had become an alcoholic, “I’m glad you still have something that reminds you of her.”

     Tommy let Evan hold him, feeling his warmth, Jeremy tucked in close to his chest, “I might not have it for long anyways,” Tommy said, “You saw what he looked like. He’s seen better days. I think his best days were back when I was a child. Soon he’s just going to fall apart like most things in my life and I’ll lose the last shred of my Mom.”

     Tommy felt tears welling up, but he refused to let them fall. He would not cry over this. He would remain strong, “You won’t lose the last shred of your Mom though,” Evan gave Tommy a squeeze, “She lives inside you. And you will always have her memory. Jeremy is a reminder of those memories but he’s just a thing.”

     “I know,” Tommy said, “Doesn’t make it less painful that I’ll lose him. Did you know that he’s the reason I don’t have nightmares all the time?”

     “You believe that your stuffed crow stops nightmares?” Evan sounded, “But my belief that I was cursed by a dead cowboy was silly?”

     “Oh, leave me alone,” Tommy playfully elbowed Evan, “I have my own beliefs just like you. I don’t believe in curses, but I’ve never had a nightmare so long as I have Jeremy with me. You’ve experienced my nightmares.”

     Tommy remembered when he was staying over at Evan’s place a few months ago. He felt he had his nightmares under control. He was very wrong. He had been having a flashback to his time in Iraq, he had joined the military and was working as a helicopter pilot, one of those big troop carrier types. They were flying over the desert when out of nowhere, someone fired a missile at them. Tommy saw it coming but not in time and the back of the chopper had been hit. He did everything he could to get them down safely, but they ended up crashing no matter what Tommy did. Six men died on impact. They were nowhere near a city or town. It took them 3 days to find their way back. Tommy had woken up screaming that night. Evan was freaking out about what was happening. He had no idea the PTSD that Tommy was suppressing every day, “I know,” Evan replied, continuing to hold him.

     “Lets just get some sleep,” Tommy said. He was exhausted from having to remember so many things he’s been trying so hard to keep down.

***

     Tommy was at Evan’s loft, laying in bed, waiting for Evan to finish up in the bathroom. He was ready for bed, laying in just his boxers, nothing else on. He preferred to sleep like this when at Evan’s loft. Evan kept the temperature up higher than Tommy did at his house, so it was always far too warm for him in the loft. Hot air rising and all that. Evan came out of the bathroom, dressed only in his underwear as well, and crawled into bed, “I got you something,” Evan said as he leaned over the bed to grab something from the side. Tommy was confused, “Since you don’t have Jeremy Crow while over here, I wanted you to have something to hold, maybe to keep the dreams at bay,” Evan pulled up a penguin, the size of Jeremy.

     Tommy reached out to take it from Evan. He had tears in his eyes. This was the first time someone had actually not mocked him for having Jeremy. The fact that Evan had taken the time to go out, find this penguin, just for Tommy to sleep with so he didn’t wake up screaming, which meant something to Tommy, “Evan,” was all he could manage to get out as his throat constricted as he wanted to cry.

     “He doesn’t have a name yet,” Evan replied, “I figured that you would want to name him yourself. I don’t know any good penguin movies besides Happy Feet. So, I will leave naming him to you,” Evan continued, “And if he works, would you allow me to take Jeremy to someone I found? After you showed me Jeremy, I started falling down a research hole.”

     Tommy was just staring at the penguin while Evan spoke, barely hearing what he was saying. Tommy at this moment knew that Evan was the one. The one to spend the rest of his life with. He just didn’t know how to broach the subject now. They had only been back together for three weeks, “Sorry what?”

     “I was asking if I could take Jeremy to a repair shop I found online,” Evan repeated. Tommy leaned into Evan, just staring at this new penguin, “He’s got a great online presence, lots of five star reviews on Google. I figured we could make Jeremy last awhile longer if we took him in for some repairs.”

     Tommy nodded his head absently at that, “Sounds good,” He said.

     “You seem a little out of it,” Evan asked, “Something wrong?”

     “Not really,” Tommy replied, “I’ve never had someone care about me so much. Usually, it was open mockery if anyone actually saw Jeremy. You are the first person who actually cared about me enough to not only not mock me about my crow that I sleep with, but you went out of your way to get something so that I could sleep well at your place as well.”

     “Well, you are important to me,” Evan said, “I wouldn’t have blurted out about moving in together all those months ago if I didn’t mean it. I want you to feel like you are at home here as well until the day we do decide to take the next steps.”

     Now it was Tommy’s turn to blurt things out. He shouldn’t have but he couldn’t help himself. He felt so complete now with Evan, knowing about his nightmares, how to help with them, “I love you,” Tommy said turning his head to face Evan, “I love you more than anything in this world. You are the first person who has ever taken the time to understand me. I want you to be my last.”

     Tommy watched as Evan was taken aback by his statement for a brief second, “I didn’t expect that,” a smile broke out over Evan’s face, “I love you too you fool. I figured that out months ago when I asked you to move in.”

     “We both agreed we were idiots,” Tommy said as he brought the penguin in for a tight hug. He felt similar to Jeremy, but softer, “But yes you can take Jeremy in for repairs, but only because I have Hubie here.”

     “Hubie?” Evan asked about the name.

     Tommy smiled, “Yes Hubie. I’m a child of the 80’s and 90’s. I watched a lot of Don Bluth movies. There was one about penguins and the main character is named Hubie. So, it fits.”

     “You’ll have to show me the movies that you get your names from one of these days,” Evan said, “But now lets get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

     Tommy turned on his side, letting Evan take the Big Spoon position, holding Hubie close. A content sigh left his body as he felt this soft penguin in his arms, and Evan’s arms pulling him close. This was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.

***

Note: So yeah, I admit that I still have stuffed animals. I have the stuffed Mickey Mouse I had since I as a child still in my bedroom. I also have a stuffed Penguin I sleep with named Mr. Pickles. Just something I need to sleep. If I don’t have one of them, I can’t sleep well. And yes, I am actually a 40 year old man who sleeps with a stuffed penguin. Hate all you want but you won’t change me. For the record, Jeremy Crow came from The Secret of NIMH, and Hubie the Penguin is from The Pebble and the Penguin. Both Don Bluth movies.

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANONS featuring. damon maitsu, kai monteago, wolfgang akire, desmond hall and mark berskii.

edens garden maxxing rn :] i enjoyed chapter one a lot, so i’ll be pumping out a bit more writing of them ^^; feel free to send in requests, (even if its for different medias) though i already have 3-4 drafts ill be dishing out eventually.

damon, who treats you like you’re a fragile little doll, prepared for you to break at any moment. hence, why he worries for you so much. though he attempts (and fails) to play it off as a casual concern. ‘are you hurt? bleeding?’ ‘what? no? i just tripped, damon.’ ‘are you sure? let me check just incase. come on, stop moving.’ damon, who always has a limb around you. his hands? wrapped around your waist, or intertwined within your own. his legs? always pressed up against yours. if you point it out, he gets flustered and denies it, pulling away. but you’ll still find his eyes constantly lingering on you, as if he hasn’t felt your contact in months and needed it desperately. damon, who is a tease, yet gets flustered just as easily. sarcastic, teasing remarks always escaping his lips, smirking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. though the minute you retort back with a comment of your own, he's completely quiet. blushing and muttering embarrassed insults under his breath. damon, who doesn’t quite understand standards when it comes to dating. holding a door open for you? walking close to the road? wearing a hair tie on his wrist incase you’d needed one? a foreign concept to him. but regardless, upon hearing things told to him by other people whilst rambling like kai, he tries his best to adapt to it. things that would normally be unusual for him, he attempts because he wants the best for you. damon, who is stingy and a bother about little trinkets you point out. ‘do you really need that?’ ‘that looks stupid.’ ‘its so small. why is it expensive?’ yet of course, they’d somehow end up within your residence. somehow. obviously, it were damon. damon, who spoils you with acts of services. openly doing things he’d refuse to or need convincing for from others, going out of his way to do things for you without being asked, etc. sure, maybe once in awhile he’ll knock on your head and call you an idiot for not being able to do something yourself, but it’s just teasing. he truly doesn’t mind providing for you, or helping you. anything that offers spending time with you is worth it for him.

kai, who couldn’t get enough of you. your touch, your attention, your words, you name it, he likes it. his hands are constantly all over you, any opportunity he’s given. he melts within your touch, in his most vulnerable state, unable to resist anything when it comes from you and your grasp. kai, who spoils you with anything he can offer — cute endearing nicknames, gifts he’d found that he thought you’d like, or even little snacks he thought looked silly that you two could try together. he loves to see your expression light up when he offers you some item he’d found that he thought you’d enjoy. even if you don’t end up liking it, the idea of him being reminded of you or thinking of you enough to make the purchase still leaves you feeling warm. kai, who whiningly calls you princess whenever he needs something from you. aside from his casual nicknames that he adores, like sweetheart or baby, whenever princess leaves his lips, you know he wants something from you. kai, who is admittedly quite insecure. he’s scared he’ll be abandoned by you, just like he’d been left by so many others who viewed him differently due to the persona he puts on online. but because of this, it just means he cherishes what you give him more than anything. he wants you to be able to touch those negative emotions inside of him, and see what really lies within his heart, not what he puts on the internet or around others.

wolfgang, who leaves encouraging little sticky notes around your desk when spending time away from you. reminders to take care of yourself, reminders that he loves you and wishes he were with you, etc. wolfgang, who gently takes care of you whenever given the opportunity. brushing your hair in the morning, making you coffee, assisting you in filling out paperwork, you name it. despite being such a busy man, he works hard to make sure he’s around for you. wolfgang, who despite appearing so cool headed, is such a jealous boy. the type to watch you talk to someone from behind and give them a disgustingly stern glare, but the moment you turn to face him, hes smiling sweetly in your direction. the type to wrap his arms around you and get all close and mushy in order to scare off someone else eyeing you. wolfgang, who invites you out on the sweetest dates ever. picnics under the warm, dimly lit night sky, only the stars witnessing the two of you giggling away and laying together. or, a romantic date at a a fancy restaurant, where the two of you dress elegantly, yet he can’t take his eyes off of you. his mind too caught onto the gorgeous attire tight against your body, too lost in how gorgeous you look whilst speaking to him. wolfgang, who spoils you with luxurious items. anything you want? you’ll get it. he doesn’t mind what you wear, whether or not you like cute or cheap things. what does matter though, is if you want something. and if you want something, you’ll get it.

desmond, who is so smooth with his words, you could die. the way he speaks to you in such a soft and caring tone. the way he goes along willingly with whatever you say, because admittedly, what makes you happy makes him happy. the way he speaks about you in such an endearing way to others. others may be embarrassed when speaking of or sharing about someone they love, but desmond expresses the way he feels for you without hesitation. desmond, who teaches you little quirks about his ultimate. little things that could be useful for protecting you, or just things he finds neat and wants to share with you. desmond, who is perfect for a clumsy you. about to trip? hes already grabbed you, hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back up onto your feet. about to spill something? hes grabbed the glass, preventing it. his quick reflexes are almost scary.

mark, who loves to kiss a certain part of you. your hands, your nose, silly yet specific places which just make him feel warm. mark, who gets embarrassed about the way he thinks about you. who will be listening to you rambling like usual, yet turn his head out of no where, muttering to himself like a flustered mess. mark, who has an attitude which is no joke. it doesn’t come off as a surprise, but the way he rolls his eyes and grumbles makes it much easier to decipher when he’s displeased or irritated. but to him, you’re a soft spot which can always manage to cheer him up. your silence yet presence close to his serves as a type of battery for him. mark, who is constantly sharing songs that he likes to you. new songs hes found that remind him of you, a song hes been listening to a lot recently, or even just songs hes worked on. he wants you to enjoy what he does.

@ feinyan

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Gentleman

Summary: You get drunk when trying to avoid your number one enemy - George Russell.

Warnings: alcohol, throwing up, enemies to lovers

A/N: I saw this picture of George just leaning against the railing and I got an idea for this little thing. Enjoy!

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

Since you got on that goddamn yacht of Toto’s, for the summer party, your head was spinning like crazy, because you somehow forgot about eating the food from the catering around the deck and you went straight for gin and tonic. Why? Good question. And only right answer - George Russell.

You were enemies since the day one. Something about him didn’t sit right with you and you just spat venom whenever he was around.

However, you were a mess and it was only the beginning of the night. Sipping your maybe fifth drink, you felt tipsy and dizzy. Avoiding George entire evening, you nearly got yourself over the railing of the yacht, when your mind just shut down in particular moment and you didn’t know what was happening with you.

Truth was that someone saved you from your near fall over the railing and that someone was George. He was in his right mind, barely drunk, only having one drink himself through the afternoon and the evening. When he noticed how drunk you actually were, with a sigh, he took you in his arms, getting to his cabin.

Your body was limp, but you let out a groan of discomfort and sounds of gags, indicating that you’re about to throw up. He quickly got you to the toilet in the bathroom, holding your head above it, so you could unconsciously vomit all the alcohol you drank. Frowning, he tried to hold you still, to not hurt you and even if he was disgusted, he made sure you’re alright.

Just like that you threw up nearly three times, every time he carried you to the small bathroom in the cabin, helping you.

It was about 2AM when your body stopped shaking, your breaths steadied and you nuzzled more into the silk sheets of his bed, slight breeze caressing your cheeks from the open window.

George sat beside you, watching over you, not able to catch his sleep, because he was worried. He was confused by his feelings, not understanding what was going on in his mind. He could left you at the deck, to your own mess, but he didn’t do it. And this worry washing over him, to make you feel good and not hurt… he was supposed to hate you, but he wasn’t even close to that.

Morning light creeping through the balcony window of the cabin hit your eyes and you blinked a few times, trying to focus on your surroundings. Your head was thumping wildly with pain, your body sore, but your stomach was weirdly in peace.

“I see you’re awake.”

The deep rumble of a voice made you look at the small balcony of the cabin. Your sight was still hazy, but you knew that voice well.

“George…?”

He just stood there, leaning against the railing, smiling softly, not his usual smugness.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You groaned, embarrassed as hell.

“What happened?”

George walked over the bed, taking a seat next to you, taking in your messy appearance.

“You drank yourself to oblivion, nearly falling over from the deck to the ocean. I was around to catch you and I carried you here. You threw up like crazy. I took care of you.”

He spoke with calmness in his voice, sighing softly, worry lacing his eyes again.

Confused and tired, you looked up at him.

“Thank you.”

It was all you could muster up, your mind numb, not able to make any hateful remarks like usual.

What surprised you was his hand caressing your cheek softly, brushing your hair off your face. There was a silence between you, unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

“You actually made me mad. Your reckless behaviour. I was so worried last night.”

Your eyes widened slightly, wheels running in your head, trying to understand. But he continued his speech.

“From that time you arrived here on the yacht, you were avoiding me, drinking like an idiot, not eating any piece of meal. I wanted to throw some insults at you, make you annoyed again, but… when I saw you so desperate and your body shutting off.. it was too much.”

Hiding your face in the silky pillow, you felt bad. There wasn’t any way to talk yourself out of it.

“I’m sorry.. I don’t know that got into me, but thought of you near me, I wanted to be numb. Because…”

You suddenly stopped talking, feeling the lump in your throat. His face twisted in frown, still caressing your cheek.

“Because?”

Lifting your gaze towards him, locking your eyes with his mesmerising ocean blue, made your breath hitch.

“Because I don’t hate you, George. I actually… I very much like you.”

He could feel the hotness of your cheek under his palm, his face not surprised, he smiled widely. His own heart fluttering at your confession, because now he knew that his own mind was right about what he felt towards you.

“Well… I don’t hate you also. It’s very hard to do so with that pretty face of yours and your feisty attitude. I’m tempted by you. Every time you speak to me, calling me an asshole of the grid, it drives me closer to you.”

Your chuckle echoed through the cabin, you couldn’t believe that he was beside you, saying those words about liking you.

“I truly didn’t expect this, Russell..”

His face darkened a little, his hand now running through the strands of your messy hair.

“You don’t want to call me that.”

“What?”

Your face full of confusion.

“Russell.”

“Why so?” You tried to be a tease, but your thumping head quickly put you back in your place.

“Because it drives me crazy, when you call me that. And you’re not in shape to endure what I would do to you..”

His voice was laced with lust, his lips curled in cocky smirk, his face close to her, their breaths mingling together.

“Um… okay.” You whispered, voice shaky.

Gently patting your cheek, he backed off from you, clearly satisfied by your peaceful demeanour.

“I’ll go fetch you something for breakfast, you need to nurture yourself after your last night escapade, and we can talk after that. Before I lay my hands on you in the way I would like to, I’ll take you on nice date first. Because I’m a gentleman, of course.”

He chuckled and his head was hit by the pillow you threw at him with your words of how he’s an absolute asshole.

[firestarter91]

Can I dare admit I’ve never managed to finish The Student Prince, 😳I know it's probably the most popular and top rated fic for many on AO3 and I see so many fans raving about it but I've never been able to get on with it.

There are no gays in football - seriously you don't need to even like football to enjoy this story, it's a really entertaining read.

Nobody moves nobody gets hurt by Leandra is wonderful, I love Arthur in this one especially, I grew so protective of him, there's quite a bit of teenage angst in this one in the first part but it all comes good at the end. Check out their other stories here.

I've still got to read Arcane Asylum.

Currently reading And like the cycle of the year, we begin again, it’s really good, only on chapter 8 but it’s so well done, and engages the reader immediately. I don't really read many "Arthur returns" stories but this captured me from the start - better yet they’ve done three other parts to it which I can’t wait to dive into. That’s my further reading done for the holidays right there. 😊

Piggybacking shamelessly off these recs to add another writer I thoroughly recommend - anything by horsecrazy. So funny, sexy with spots of angst here and there thankfully no tragic endings (I've had enough of all that) and most importantly the writing feels very true to Merlin and Arthur.

I especially love their modern Merthur, reading these it's just as I imagine them behaving if they were transported from the show into modern life, because they can't have the exact same dynamic but they still need to feel like them if that makes sense. They're usually total idiots in love even if they don't realise it to start off with and I lap it up, also the side characters (Morgana, Gwaine, Gwen etc) are all equally brilliantly done.

Hello, I would love to get all your Merthur fic recs/bookmarks 👉🏽👈🏽 I have been scouring AO3 but I’m sure I’m missing some really good ones!!

oh hiii! omg okay well i haven't read merthur fics in quite a bit of time, so these fics are mostly all very old, but here we go! also i've mostly read modern aus, i hope that's your thing hehe.

we are all diamonds by footloose

the student prince by fayjay

hotel camelot by orphan account

awake by cori lannam

The One Where Their (Mother) Tongues Get Acquainted by emjayelle

And like the cycle of the year, we begin again by katherynefromphilly

there are no gays in football by malu_3

This Silly Ol' Dance Is Perfect for Two by slantedknitting

nobody moves, nobody gets hurt by leandra

a summer in delphi by rotrude

Arcane Asylum by newkate

also: please read the warnings and tags properly, some of these fics have ao3 archive warnings and deal with heavy subjects/tropes

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 3

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Falling into my well-tread pattern of everything I write getting steadily longer chapter by chapter. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

When he wants to be, Ben is shockingly romantic. It doesn’t surprise you—you can feel the power and fervor of his love every second, its pious and wrathful devotion all focused on you—but he always manages to outdo himself. To be more romantic than any epic poem or tragedy, to know you better than you might know yourself, to be the best fuck you��ve ever had every single time. 

What does surprise you is how he still sometimes aches with mold in your chest. How you’ve shown him time and time again that, if he asked, you’d learn to raise the dead and travel through time and move planets with only your hands for him. You’d burn out the sun and create worlds fueled only by your love for Ben, and he’s always surprised that’s the truth. 

It’s always been the truth. It feels like more than the truth. A little more than a fact or law. It just fucking is. You’re Ben’s. He’s yours. That’s the end of it.

And you couldn’t do better than him. Nobody could do better than Ben, and it’s why you might feel really fucking possessive of him. The gossip magazines and Fake Face—you’re pretty sure her name is Deandra or something, but you don’t really fucking care—don’t look at Ben and see an angel. They don’t fucking get that he’s everything, and safe, and strong and warm and handsome. They don’t understand that he knows how to say every right thing, that he treats you like you’re holy, and cares more than anyone you’ve ever met.

They just want his body, and he’s not a fucking whore.

He’s a little bit of a fucking whore.

He’s your fucking whore. He’s your slab of meat to objectify and drool over, to tease and touch and pout at. Ben is fucking yours. And you’re his, and you trust him with more than your life, and you love him more than the whole universe.

And he’s such a fucking asshole. And you’re going to kill him.

Can I come inside now?

No, he grunts in your head, and you can feel him. Feel that instinct of Ben moving around inside the house, doing something that he refuses to tell you about. 

I never tell you no about coming inside-

Ben snorts. Smartass.

Is that a yes-

No. He says your name in the low hum of the stereo, and you feel rough affection start to cover your skin. Don’t lose your fucking mind, I’m almost done.

Done with what?

Nice try.

You sigh, leaning your head back on the seat. Are you ever going to tell me what you’re doing?

Are you ever going to tell me what that fucking secret shit was.

No, it’s still a surprise-

So is this. Fucking wait. You can almost see the cocky smirk on his face as hunger flashes through his blood. Patience is a virtue, darling-

Shut the fuck up, old man.

He chuckles in your head, and it still, somehow, rolls through your body. Brat.

Cunt. How about now-

Christ, woman. Ben in your head, and you know he’s about to open the door before he does, because your whole body starts to sing Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, bigger than the universe and yours and Ben.

You smile at him when he appears, marching over to the car and opening the door with a glare you know is fake.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” he mutters, helping you out of the car. “Lucky I fucking love you.“

“I am, aren’t I.” You grab his face between your hands, your smile probably a little idiotic. “You’re so good to me, my love.”

He grunts, all his annoyance a good performance, but pointless when he’s still looking at you with an unyielding reverence and you can feel his love begin to pound out of his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine.” Ben offers you his hand, something alert and tight over his throat relaxing slightly when you tangle your fingers in his. “Let’s go.”

He’d insisted you dress up before you dropped Ryan off at Butcher’s for Christmas Eve. So you’d done full makeup and hair, put on your fanciest dress that was still slutty enough to make Ben’s nostrils flare and that part of him in you feel starved, and returned to the house with a strict order from Ben to stay inside until he was ready.

You’d been under the impression you were going out.

You’d been wrong.

But this is so much better.

Just to start, Ben cooked. And he’s turned out be an amazing cook. You think he doesn’t grumble and scowl about it because—in his mind—it’s another thing for him to do for you. Something he can make you, something he can care for you with. Something he can offer you, just like this. A stupidly romantic and dizzying gesture of dinner. Steak—eating birds is for fucking pussies, Sunshine—and potatoes and bread, laid out on a blanket in the living room, right next to the tree.

He knows you love the tree. Ben’s obviously figured out that you’ve been sitting in the living room so much—when you read or work or watch TV on your laptop—because of the Christmas tree. Because it makes the whole house smell even more like pine—even more like Ben—and is so colorful and warm it eases your whole body into simple happiness.

And this is making you feel high. Mindlessly happy and easy, Ben wrapped around your body—his chin resting on the top of your head as he waits for you to speak—and the whole world around you evidence of his love, and this is so good, and you love him so much, and-

“Thank you.” You turn in his arms, the smile on your face so real and made of purely love. “It’s perfect.” 

Ben grunts, and the glow becomes bloody and ardorous in his chest. “You like it.”

You give him an amused look, rising up to kiss him soft and long and slow. Allowing a little bit of your blood—of your love—to move from your body to his, allowing him to tangle a hand in your hair and pull you a little off the ground as he presses his tongue on your lower lip. As you part them for him, and he groans down your throat.

I love it. You whisper in his head, making a small, content sound of bliss as his tongue sweeps over your teeth. I love you, Benjamin. Thank you.

Neither of you rush to pull apart, and when  you to do there’s a long moment where Ben drops his brow to your, you curl your fingers in his chest, and you exist only in the feeling of each other. Heavy, traded breaths, bodies fit perfectly together, everything so easy.

This is so fucking easy.

It’s easy to let Ben guide you to the floor, and to watch him drop across from you with a wide, cocky grin. Easy to take whatever he offers you—food and affection and love—and smile the whole time. Easy to tug him to your side, because he’s barely a foot away, and that’s too far.

“The whole point is that it’s a date,” He grumbles your name, even as he shuffles to sit with your leg hooked over his, your body tucked into his side. “We should be fucking looking at each other-“

“I’m looking at you,” you shrug, smiling up at him. “It’s not that hard, Benjamin, you just sort of move your eyes-“

Ben leans down, kissing you until you make an undignified whimper and his chuckle sends a wave of thirst through your body.

“Fucking brat,” He mutters against your lips, pulling away with a slight shake of his head. “You’re happy like this.”

He’s talking about how you’re sitting. And you’re more than happy with that—Ben’s big and warm, still around you, still everything—but you make your words a little clearer, and little gentler. Filled with how fucking good this, he is, you feel. 

“I’m happy.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss over his beard. “Really happy.”

Ben nods slowly and grabs his plate from across the blanket, pulling you fully into his lap and folding his body over yours as you eat.

“Butcher said we could go over early tomorrow,” you lean back to watch Ben as he eats, tapping your fork against your plate. “For Ryan.”

“We were doing that shit no matter what,” A little bit of potato falls into Ben’s beard as he grumbles, and he doesn’t stop speaking as you reach up to wipe it away. “He’s our kid, Butcher’s damn lucky he gets Ryan tonight.”

You hum. “He’s our kid?”

“Of course he’s our fucking kid, I don’t see anyone else-“

“I know.” You pull a piece of steak between your teeth, smiling backwards at him. “I just like hearing you say it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you,” you swallow, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we’re doing a good job? With Ryan?”

Ben shrugs. “Doing the best damn job we can, but the kid’s already seen some shit.”

“I know, but-“

“It’s a fucking miracle he can go to school and laugh, Sunshine,” he grunts, moving one hand to cup your chin, keeping your gaze on his. “That’s a good job.” Ben presses a soft kiss to your lips, speaking against them. “You’re doing a good fucking job.”

You let out a soft, happy sigh, and the constant tension over your lungs—that, just maybe, you were fucking up Ryan more—eases a little bit as you curl further into Ben’s arms. “Thank you.”

Ben scowls, but the glow blooms over his whole body. “Don’t. Tell me about work.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you mumble, setting your plate back on the ground. “It’s going well? Everything’s going smoothly, nobody is trying to kill anyone else, we- oh,” You grin at him. “Can you keep a secret?”

He nods, watching you carefully, and your smile grows.

“Hughie’s going to propose,” you whisper. “He showed MM and I the ring.”

Ben grunts, his fingers moving to touch your engagement ring, resting easier and natural next to your wedding band. “Good for them.”

“That it?” You tilt your head at him. “Just good for them?”

He rolls his eyes at your deep voiced impression of him, raising your hand to kiss your palm. “What the fuck am I supposed to say-“

“Congratulations?” You suggest. “Maybe call Hughie and offer him some advice?”

“Advice-“

“On marriage.” You smile at him, and the love in his body grow fervorish. “You’re doing a good job. Share your wisdom, old man.”

He scowls, but falls silents for a long moment. Rubbing circles on your skin as he scans over your face, pulling you carefully and reverently apart as he actually thinks about it.

“Keep your wife happy.” He mutters, and you think you might have melted from how firm and certain he sounds, how he’s looking at you like you’re the sun, how his love is alive and furious in your body. “And fuck her like she deserves.”

You giggle, the noise a little high and needy. “Romantic.”

“Shut the fuck up, brat, you love it.”

“I do,” you sigh, pulling his arms a little tighter around him. “How’s work for you-“

“Fine.”

“Just fine-“

“It’s easy shit, but I don’t fucking love it, darling. Christ, Butcher is my goddamn boss.”

“Well, at least he’s giving you the holidays off-“

“He fucking better be.” Ben glares into the air. “Pussy picks up another case, he’ll have to give me the best damn blowjob in history to get me to work it.”

You snort, giving him a fake pout. “I thought your dick was mine, Pretty Boy-“

“It is.” He grunts, kissing the top of your head. “So he’s never fucking getting me to go.”

“What if he asked really nicely?”

Ben raises his brows at you. “To blow me.”

“Yeah.” You hum, nodding, unable to contain the wide, bright smile on your face. “What if he begged?”

“Nobody,” Ben drawls, his deep voice moving through your whole body and settling, hot and coiled, in your gut. “Fucking begs me like you do, Sunshine. And Butcher would have to do it half as pretty as that.”

You flush, even as you whack his arm around you. “Fuck you-“

“I will,” he mutters in your ear, trailing one hand up your thigh and under your dress, his hunger starting to bloom and spread over your whole body. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves, and you,” he kisses that spot on your neck, smirking at your breathy sigh. “Look fucking beautiful. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind not to fuck you.”

You might have whimpered, but Ben swallows your every breath and noise with a deep, long kiss and everything turns into a warm haze of Ben.

I’m here. Ben traces his tongue over your lower lip, his hand resting at the very apex of your thigh, but not just touching you. What do you want, beautiful?

Right as he praises you, Ben presses his thumb over your clit, still covered by your panties, and your moan is loud and shameless as he starts to rub small circles.

Fuck, you throw your head back, reaching up to grab at Ben’s face, your fingers curling in his beard. Shit, Ben, please-

Please, what? He flicks you once, dragging two fingers over your clothed slit. Words, darling, need to hear that pretty fucking begging-

Ben, please, please more, need more-

He hums, latching his mouth to your neck and sucking, right as he presses his thumb firmly down on your clit, pulling a high whine from your throat. More what.

You, need you, need more of you-

I know, darling. He chuckles, resuming those slow, torturous circles. Bet you’re already fucking soaked for me, so fucking desperate, Sunshine, so fucking beautiful-

Benjamin, please- You cut your silent words off with a squeal as Ben pushes those two, broad fingers into your aching pussy through your underwear, his free hand palming at your breasts. Fuck-

You want to fucking cum, darling? That what you really need?

Yes, yes, please, Ben- You gasp as he slaps your dripping, still clothed pussy once, hunger and smug pride flaring in his chest at your whine. 

“Hold it.” He mutters, and before you know what’s happening he’s hooking an arm under your legs, standing up with you held carefully in his arms. “I’ve got something for you.”

You blink at him, still a little lost in his big, strong arms around you as he carries you upstairs, the power and zeal of his love inside you, the ache between your legs that’s only growing as you drown in warm and handsome and pine and Ben-

He grunts your name, and you swallow. “Are you-

“I’m good,” you whisper, offering him a small smile as he kicks the door to your bedroom open. “You have something?”

“For you.” Ben doesn’t set you down on the bed, but in front of the bookshelf, right next to your dresser. “Early gift.”

You tilt your head up to scan over his set, firm features, all watching you with an unraveling attention. He’s tensed in your body, sore in a way that doesn’t hurt, something electric in his hands and on his tongue. Ben grabs your chin and carefully guides your gaze back to the books, his chest pressed to your back and his words low.

“Try to burn them.”

You swat his hand away, your gaze shooting up to him with a glare. “Benjamin, there is no fucking way-“

“Trust me, Sunshine.” He wraps his arms around your waist, rubbing soft circles as he holds your glower. “Just do it.”

“But they’re books-“

“I fucking know that. Trust me.” He smirks, kissing your brow as your glare deepens. “Do I ever damn lie to you, darling?”

You scowl. “No.”

“Would I ever try to pull some sort of fucking trick?”

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to the books with a frown. “Burn them.”

“That’s what I said.” Ben rests his chin on your brow, his body still filled with that odd electrically. “Do it.”

You sigh. “If I burn down the house, we’re getting a divorce-“

“You’re not going to burn down the damn house.” 

“But if I do-“

“You’d remarry me a week later.” Ben says, his voice dry and bored. “Stop fucking stalling.”

You chew on your tongue as you raise hand, digging your nails into Ben’s arm and squeezing your eyes shut as you let a small amount of fire out from under your skin. Barely a spark, but enough to reduce paper to ash. 

Ben’s whole body starts to glow with pride, nothing smells like lingering smoke, and—when you wearily drag your eyes open—the room looks the exact same.

The books look the exact same.

“What the-“

“Got Frenchie to fireproof them,” Ben spins you in his arms, and the grin on his face is almost boyish. “He used some sort of fucking coating or some shit. And it took all goddamn month, he had to do one at a time so you wouldn’t notice.”

You gape at him. At his bright smile, and chiseled, rough features, and the pure love and adoration in his eyes. Your whole brain is just a hum of Ben. All yours. He’s all yours, and he’s everything, and you might start crying because, fuck, you really couldn’t ask for anything more than him-

“Ben,” your voice is a little hoarse, your body slumped fully into his. “I, I don’t-“

There’s a flash of soreness over his skin, his arms tightening around you, and you’re moving before it can settle into his bones. Throwing yourself into him with everything you have, before he can even properly doubt the gift, can start to think that you’re not happy. That this—that he—isn’t so fucking amazing it’s making you stupid.

It’s perfect. Your hands tangle in his hair, smiling against his lips as you melt fully into his body. You’re perfect, Ben. Thank you.

Don’t. He grunts, but it turns into a long groan that sparks in your gut and presses your thighs together. You’re-

I know I am. You press your brow to his as you separate. But you are as well. And I love you.

“I love you too,” Ben’s voice is low, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “And you’re still the perfect one, darling. You’re a fucking miracle.”

You swallow, leaning back to watch him carefully. “I got something for you as well,” you whisper. “But it feels kind of, um, bad now.”

He scowls. “It’s not fucking bad.”

“You don’t even know what it is, Benjamin-“

“You got it for me.” He mutters. “Can’t be fucking bad.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your smile is a little idiotic, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek before taking a long step back. “Let’s find out, then.”

Ben looks like he’s going to say something—his brows knit and a small frown on his handsome face—but it’s gone the moment you pull off your dress.

It’s a little cocky to make yourself his gift. But Ben’s nostrils are flaring, his jaw clenched so hard you’re worrying he might break it, and everything in his body is hunger. Raw, feral hunger that’s making his eyes dark with lust and his muscles flex under his shirt as he takes you in. Scans over the lingerie set you’d bought specifically for him, dark green and lace and very easily rippable. Leaving more of you exposed than covered, possibly the sluttiest thing you’ve ever owned, and all for Ben. All for how he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you, and you’re more than happy to let him. 

“Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, shaking his head slightly. “You’re, fuck, Sunshine, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, lowering yourself to your knees with your best innocent expression. “You’re not so bad yourself, Benjamin, my love.”

“Fucking-“ He groans as you crawl forward, stopping right in front of him before smiling up at his lust-blown expression. “Are you trying to damn kill me-”

You shake your head, your smile growing. “No. But,” you run a hand up his thigh, squeezing your legs together as you see his bulge, proud and straining at his pants. “I might be trying to do something else.” You rest light fingers over him, swallowing at his low growl. “If you want.”

Ben’s chuckle is animalistic, a big, warm hand tangling in your hair and pulling your face fully back. “Fucking hell,” he says your name with an awe that’s so out of place in the hot, undying desire etched over his every feature and organ, but still so painfully natural. “You want to suck my cock, beautiful?”

“Yes, please,” you grip his wrist as he traces his thumb over your cheekbones, not trying to hide the need and borderline desperation in your voice. “Ben, please-“

“So fucking good,” he mutters, and you moan when his thumb presses on your lower lip, his throat bobbing as you open for him without thought. “Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn marvel. So fucking pretty on your knees, when you fucking beg and say my name. So fucking beautiful and perfect, fucking, shit-“

You’d been fiddling with his belt as he drawled, and the moment you get it off you’re moving. Freeing his huge, already throbbing cock from his pants, swiping your thumb over the head of him before licking a long, slow stripe on the underside. 

“Fuck,” Ben’s words are pushed through his teeth, his hand now braced on the dresser as you smile up at him, slowly pumping your hand over his shaft. “You’re, fuck-“

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly up and down as you swirl your tongue around him, moaning when he bumps the back of your throat and squirming as he groans above you. 

“Jesus, fuck, you’re a goddamn miracle, darling, such a good girl, look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth-“ He’s groan rolls through your whole body, and you start to grind onto the air. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re so fucking beautiful, feel like a fucking sin, so- Fuck, you were goddamn made for me, fucking mine-“

Ben’s praise starts to slur as you move one hand up to play with his balls, your eyes never leaving his as you pick up your pace. 

Ben, you whine around him when his hips jerk. Please, just-

You reach back to grab his hand in your hair, squeezing his balls once and sucking on the very head of him as you pull almost fully off, and he understands without question. His grip tightens, his hunger and pleasure so close to bursting in his gut, and begins to fuck your face. It’s unrelenting and brutal, your teeth grazing his cock as the wood creaks under his free hand, and it’s all you can do not to climb up his body and beg him to fuck you. To just rolls your hips and rub your thighs together as Ben watches you under lidded eyes, his words barely a growl and his cock twitching as drool falls out of your mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he groans, slamming you down on him until your nose hit his abdomen, your nails curling in his skin. “So fucking good, darling, fucking beautiful, goddamn perfect, smart fucking mouth stuffed full of me, going to make you taste me for a hundred fucking years, fuck-“

Ben’s orgasm crashes through you like a storm, washing all of you away and turning everything into Ben. His cum hot and sticky on your tongue and down your throat, his eyes flashing as he loosens his grip and pulls you off of him with a pop. Big, careful hands wiping a stray drop of his release from lip before smearing it over your cheek, and a deep voice like a song chuckling when you moan stupidly at the gesture.

“Like that, Sunshine?” He mutters, his face drawn in amusement but his touch and tone reverent. “Like me fucking marking you?”

You whimper of his name, and Ben shakes his head in slight disbelief, his hunger already ravenous in his body. 

“Already so fucked out you can’t damn speak?” Ben’s hand in your hair drifts down as he lowers down to his knees, pulling you into his arms and scanning over your face with a narrowed gaze. “Need to hear you, darling. Fucking words-“

“Fuck me.“ You whimper, because your body has decided to listen to Ben over anything else. “Please.”

Ben’s face is predatory. It’s made of the hunger in his body and this raw adoration that’s roaring in your chest. There are promises in his eyes, darkened and starving and primal, and his attention and touch seem to be searing into your skin. All of him is focused on you—Ben’s always just focused on you—and he’s massive and safe and warm, so you might have a small, mind-numbing orgasm just from his hands rubbing firm patterns on your skin and the growling promise of his voice.

“I need a minute,” he grunts, keeping you steady in his arms as he moves you onto the bed, laying you flat on the mattress. “But darling,” his mouth curving into a smirk as he takes you in, already writhing under him, your underwear soaked and expression slack with need. “I’m not fucking stupid enough to tell you no.”

“Ben,” you reach up, trying fruitlessly to grab his shirt and pull him down to you. “Please-“

“Fucking patience, beautiful.” Ben rises fully up, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls off his shirt, his grin only growing as your hips jump off the bed from the sight of him. “Fuck, you want me that damn bad-“

“Yes, Ben, need you, I-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben drops to his knees on the mattress, shoving your knees apart with a low grunt and ripping of your panties without effort. “Fuck-“

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a finger over the lips of your pussy, his hand on your inner thigh tightening as you moan. “You’re fucking soaked. So fucking wet, Sunshine, fucking wrecked and I’ve barely touched you-“

“Ben,” you grab his hand, trying to hold it against you as you grind onto his fingers. “God, please-“

He yanks his hand away, and you make a long sound of desperation at the loss, but you’ve barely started squirming when you feel his mouth latch onto your clit, one hand planted on your stomach to keep you pinned down as he begins to suck. 

Your whole body lights up. Ben’s tongue keeps drawing circles around and over you, his teeth bumping whenever his lips pull you far enough in, and you’re not even sure you remember how to moan. All you know how to do is pull at Ben’s hair and try to fly off the mattress, to hump his face as his beard brushed your thighs and the pressure on your clit becomes painfully blissful, perfect torture, and to moan words that are supposed to be pleas and screams of Ben, Ben, Ben, fuck, please, Ben, fuck, Ben, I love you-

Love you too, Sunshine. Ben growls against you, and it vibrates over your pussy and makes your eyes roll back in your head. Taste so fucking good, need you to squirt on my goddamn face- Your body obeys, something snapping and rushing through your body as Ben groans around your clit and pushes a finger into your cunt, crooking it and playing that one spot inside you until you’re a moaning, dripping mess under his touch.

And he doesn’t stop. Your eyes blur with dizzying relief and you’re wet over his beard and skin, but Ben just keeps going. He starts to flick and nip, to pump that finger inside of you, and your mouth falls open with a strangled noise as you cum again. Your thighs start to crush his face, your hips bucking and rolling in the bed, and fuck it feels so good, you can’t really think but you know this is good, and Ben doesn’t stop. He goes and goes and goes, growing sloppier and rough on your pussy as you come apart over and over and over. You’re flying and falling and singing and drowning in Ben, touching you so right your brain is fuzzy and your whole body is just for Ben. For his hands and tongue and teeth and lips to devour, to try and pull inside you as you scream and unravel for him, as he ruins you- 

When he pulls away, your jaw is slack and your face might just be an open, drunken expression of Ben.

“You’re good.” Ben reappears in your vision, his handsome face coated in your release and his attention so devout—eyes searching over your face, voice low and firm, hands drifting over you like you were made for him to touch—that all you can do is whimper.

Ben, please. Just, you thrust your hips up, the movement uncoordinated and jerked. Fuck me, please-

His nostrils flare, his hands stilling on your body. “You want fucking more?”

You nod, flushing slightly, and Ben groans.

“Christ, you’re fucking perfect.” He presses a slow, long, kiss to your lips, chuckling when your lips fall open without thought. “You’ll never fucking understand, Sunshine, you’re-“ He cuts himself off, rising up to grin at you. “Fuck, you’re so good. Fucking love you.” He dives down to your neck, sucking and biting at that spot until you’re wiggling under him. “Love you so much it’s going to fucking kill me-“

Love you too, Ben, I- You almost scream as he moves to your breasts, ripping off the bra to pinch at once nipple as his mouth latches onto the other. God, Ben, please just fuck me, you fucking asshole-

He rises back up with mocking, raised brows. “Words. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Your voice is hoarse, barely even a breath. “Please, Ben, I want you-“

He hums, and you gasp as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. “You want my cock? Want me to fuck that perfect pussy until you’re screaming?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes please.”

“Say it.”

You swallow, your nails digging into the bare skin of his back. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I scream. Please-“

Ben’s mouth slams down into yours right as he thrusts fully into your already raw, aching pussy without warning, and you’re already on the brink of another orgasm. You’re so full, and Ben’s right up against that deepest spot, and his kisses are bruising but his hands on your skin are so careful, and he tastes like salt and vanilla and Ben-

Then he starts to move, and it’s a miracle you can still breathe. His hips snap, skin slapping against yours and cock hammering into your abused and weeping cunt, and you’re scratching at his skin and grinding into his movements but it’s still not enough. It might never be enough. You might be able to die here, with Ben deep inside you, with his own hunger and need so powerful he’s only groaning into your ear, any praise low and slurred.

“Feel so fucking good,” Ben rolls his hips as he hits that spongey spot inside you, and you whine. “So tight, Sunshine, so tight and warm and good, fucking perfect, so fucking pretty and good and perfect-“

You squeeze around him, and his head falls to your brow, his movements becoming rough and uneven.

“Best fucking pussy in the goddamn world, you’re, fuck, fucking love you, want to fucking live here, want to fucking worship this perfect fucking pussy until you’re fucking ruined-“

You’re already ruined. Ben’s stretching you out and fucking you so good you can only stare at him and take it with the hope that he can feel all of your thirst and need for him. You think he can, because you whimper a sound that’s meant to be his name, and Ben’s mouth returns to yours. This kiss is almost gentle. Passionate and deep with Ben’s tongue down your throat and your mouth hanging open for him to take whatever he wants, but laced with pure love and edged with how he’s rutting into you like a dog.

Then one of his hands glides between your bodies, over your stomach, and between your legs. Two strong fingers pinch at your clit, and you might have died and been reborn in the same moment as you cum, dragging Ben with you. You’re high on him, on his growls and groans down your throat as his stuttered movements as he fucks you through your orgasms. Everything is warm and hazy and Ben, and all you can remember how to do is lay there, breathe, and smile.

Ben brushes hair from your face, his ring cool on your skin, and his eyes are carving right into the deep, most delicate part of you. A part of him you always offer him, and a part he always keeps safe and tended to.

You’re-

I’m good. Your smile widens, and you manage to raise your hands up to cup Ben’s face. Really, really good.  

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you both over. “Fuck,” Ben presses a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing patterns on your skin as you shift above him. “I love you, Sunshine. More than goddamn anything.”

“I know.” And you do. If you’re sure of anything, you’re sure Ben loves you. That he’s yours just as much as you’re his. That you could give him everything, and he’d still find a way to give you more. “I love you too.”

You lay there for a moment, just inhaling Ben and letting him settle into a strong, pious hum in your chest. You drift off into an easy sleep that hardly feels like a blink, and when you wake up there’s light leaking through the windows and a massive weight over your body.

It’s always a little amusing when he does this. When, somehow, without fail, Ben manages to roll on top of you almost every night. Wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face between your breasts, and snoring so loud it rolls through your bones. It would be a miracle you ever got any sleep, but he’s also warm and safe and touching you so carefully you’d never choose to be anywhere else.

You’re careful not to wake him as you twist to check the time, and any sleep vanishes from your body as you read the little number on the clock.

“Ben.” You hiss, shaking him slightly above you. “Benjamin.”

He makes a low grumbling sound, tightening his grip around you and tugging himself impossibly closer to your body. 

“Benjamin, wake up, we’re, shit-” You give up on trying to wake him gently, grabbing his face between your hands and raising it level with yours. “Ben!”

Ben grunts, and it’s the grunt that means you’ve got him. His hands start to knead slow patterns on your hips, his eyes still drooping as he yawns, and it would be the most adorable thing you’d ever seen if he wasn’t being so slow.

“What the fuck is going on.” He grumbles, slowly scanning over you with a small frown that turns urgent when he sees the wide-eyed expression on your face. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You pull him up to kiss his nose, and that seems to ease the hot, vigilant fury in his body back to concrete protection wrapped easily around your skin. “I’m good, my love. But we’re late.”

Ben scowls. “Late to-“

“Butcher’s.” You give him a pointed look. “Ryan.”

“Fuck, what time-“ Ben pushes himself up on his arms to read the clock, and drops himself back down with a scowl. “We’re not fucking late, Sunshine, we’ve got an hour-“

“Which for us is basically ten minutes-“

“It’s a fucking hour-“

“Benjamin.” You grab his face back between your hands, raising your brows slightly. “Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you think we’ll be able to wake up, get dressed, grab gifts, and drive to Butcher’s all in an hour? And-“ You roll your hips slightly, Ben’s proud morning wood poking into your thigh. “Keep in mind I might be willing to help you with your problem if you’re honest.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but there’s a glow over his ribs and rough affection rooted deep in his muscles when he sits up, hauling you to flop onto his chest. “Brat,” he mutters pulling you into a long, slow kiss that makes your brain happy and fuzzy, and doesn’t help the situation at all. “Butcher knows we’ll be late. Told him to tell Ryan whatever time you told him, plus an extra hour.”

You blink at him for a second, then shove his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that-“

“Because,” he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You thought we had an hour, got us up early as shit, and now we have all the goddamn time in the world for you to help me with my problem.”

You wish he wasn’t right. That he wasn’t such a stupidly good husband, that you could at least pretend to maintain the illusion of being shrouded in mystery, having some sort of intriguing allure to him. But he also doesn’t seem to really fucking care about that. Ben seems to be more than happy knowing all of you, because there’s a wide, smug grin on his face and a radiance pounding in his chest that’s golden and molten and folds you into him without resistance. Ben doesn’t want allure, and you can’t really find it in yourself to really want it either. Not when he starts to squeeze your ass and suck on your neck until you’re moaning and squirming in his arms. Not when he does know you, so painfully fucking well, that he gets you to cum three times before you’re out of bed. Once his fingers and twice on his cock, throwing in a fourth when you’re half-dressed and he backs you up against the wall, pressing his knee between your thighs and watching you chase relief with an ardor and devotion in his blood and a look of awe in his eyes.

After that you have to make a no sex for the rest of the day rule, giving him a stern glare he shrugs off as you shuffle off to take your second shower and Ben sets out all the gifts for inventory. 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed when you get back, frowning at the bags before him. 

“We’re missing three,” he grunts as you join him, hanging slightly off his arm as you scan over the bed. “Should be seven.”

You shake your head. “No, this is right. You said one of Ryan’s was too big to transport, and I dropped the Secret Santa gifts off with Ryan last night.”

Ben pauses, still glowering at the bed, then nods and starts to grab as much as he can hold—which is all of it—to move to the car, pressing a kiss to your brow before vanishing through the door.

You don’t get to drive. Ben grabs the keys while you’re in Ryan’s room, feeding Bowser, and the asshole is standing at the car with a smirk when you stomp outside. You’d push him on it more, but you’ve never been more okay with not driving in your life. Everything is a blur of cold white, the pavement coated in black ice, and you hate the winter. No amount of stupid holidays are ever going to be able to fix how much you hate the winter. It’s too sterile, too blinding, too cold. So fucking cold.

And Ben knows that. It’s why his grip on your thigh is firmer than usual, his speed a little reckless to get you out of the car that’s heated, but still too cold. Metal that bites your skin and glass that still radiates a chill when your skin gets too close to it. Which that means you can just talk to Ben, and pretend there’s not cracks on your skull that open up a little more when you’re frozen. 

“MM said he’ll be there early as well,” you hum, playing with Ben’s hand between your own. “He’s heading up to New York to see his daughter tonight, but he wants to make sure his gift gets given.”

Ben grunts. “You know who his is?”

“No, Ben, because it’s a secret-“

“Stupid fucking secret.” He grumbles, glowering at the road. “You’re never going to tell me what your damn surprise was-“

“Not if you keep bringing it up.” You smile at him, dropping your head on his shoulder. “Then it won’t really be a surprise. You’ll be ready for it.”

Ben frowns. “So it’s for me.”

“Obviously.”

“But not your Santa shit.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop a wide, stupid grin from overtaking your face. “Not my Santa shit. And don’t ask me who my person is-“

“Don’t have to.” Ben shrugs, parking on the curb outside Butcher’s apartment. “It’s fucking Hughie.”

You only hum. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out with everyone else in two hours.”

Ben rolls his eyes, climbing out the car and carefully guiding you upstairs with an arm around your shoulders. Ryan’s waiting for you when you knock on the door, dragging you into a hug before you can even really see him. 

“Merry Christmas!” Ryan moves to Ben, and you giggle at the low grunt that escapes Ben’s mouth from the force of the hug. “Do you-“

“Brought all the gifts.” Ben says, giving Butcher a curt nod over Ryan’s head. “In the car. I’ll go back down-“

“Nah, Gov. I’ve got it.” Butcher moves to the door, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder as he passes by. It shoots something sore, but not rotten or painful, through your body, and there’s an edge of something still and quiet over it. It’s like rest, where Butcher had previously be hateful and bloodied, and it’s better than most anything you’ve felt from him before.

Ben and Butcher exchange low words about getting the gifts as Ryan shuffles over to your side, and when Ben starts to feel hot and loud in your chest you clear your throat, raising your brows at them.

“What if you both get them?” You try to hide the slightly amusement in your voice, and you don’t really succeed. “That couldn’t hurt.”

There’s a moment where they both look like they’re going to protest, but MM’s voice calls from somewhere deeper in the apartment, cutting them off. “Both you alpha male motherfuckers better go get the gifts, or you’re not eating my goddamn delicious gingerbread!”

It works. Ben and Butcher shuffle out the door with low grumbles like they’re teenage boys being sent to their room for bad behavior, and you smile down at Ryan, letting him guide you into the kitchen.

MM gives you a mumbled greeting—mostly focused on the food and not letting anyone interrupt his process—as Ryan tugs you over to Butcher’s table, where a large gingerbread house is on display in the center.

“Look!” He gestures proudly, and your smile might consume your face. “Isn’t it cool! Butcher did all the crackers, but I did everything else. And you can eat it. All of it.”

You nod, and pretend to inspect the house like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever seen. It might be. “Did you use-“

“Licorice!” Ryan points to the roof, lined with black licorice. “They’re gutters. It was MM’s idea, he said houses need drainage.”

You shoot MM an amused look over your shoulder. “Drainage?”

“You ever dealt with water damage?”

“No,” you shrug. “But this is the first time I’ve ever owned a house.”

“Fuck, that’s right.” MM frowns. “Ben teaching you all the shit about upkeep-“

You nod, even if it’s not the full truth. Ben will guide you outside to point at the roof and ask you why should we be worried about that, Sunshine, and you’ll offer an answer that’s usually correct, and he’ll tell you how to fix it. But then he fixes it, because you’re not really good at it and he always grumbles that your hands shouldn’t be dirty. If you really want to know he’ll just break whatever was wrong again and let you fix it yourself, but he tends to hover—big and warm around you, muscles flexing and face so ruggedly handsome covered in grease and dirt—and you just end up almost fucking in broad daylight. And it doesn’t really matter, because you love watching Ben do stupid, domestic shit like that. Fixing your house, that you live in and own with him, that he wants to take care of because that’s taking care of you and Ryan.

When Ben and Butcher return, you think that might be why you love the sight of him with three boxes in his arms—Butcher scowling behind him with only one—and a little snow still melting in his hair. It’s so easy and normal and boring, but still Ben. Still full of the wrathful, focused love he’s always had when he dumps the gifts on Butcher’s couch and pulls you into his arms for a deep, heavy kiss that makes your head spin and your knees shake, but now lined with something easier. Something that’s set so deeply in it’s barely noticeable, but that you can feel in yourself as well. Comfort. Real comfort seeped into your heart because there’s no fear it’s going to be taken away. Nothing could ever take this—take Ben—away from you. Nothing could ever even dare to try.

Ryan bounces over to the gifts, sorting through them with a bright-eyed focus and pulling out one that you know is for Ben, and another that you assume is for Butcher. He shuffles up to you wide a wide, nervous expression, his voice soft when he says your name. 

“I, um, I did get you something. But it’s at home. I can wait, or tell you now-“

“Do you want to wait or tell me now?” You ask, giving Ryan a soft smile that seems to ease some of his anxiety, because his voice becomes a little more confident.

“Tell you now.”

You nod in encouragement, and Ryan swallows.

“It’s a bush. A butterfly bush. They, um, attract butterflies? And Ben helped me pick it out, and he said we should get the pink one. They’re kind of easy to take care of, I think, but-“

You pull Ryan into a long, firm hug, cutting off his spiraling. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you’ve never really meant it more. “I love it, Ry. Really.”

Ryan seems to believe you, because he squeezes you tighter and grins before moving to Ben, standing tall and silent at your side. 

“This is for you,” he passes Ben the larger of the two boxes, and turns to Butcher. “And you.”

They both grunt thanks, and you don’t both to hide your smile as you watch Ben open his. Ryan had come to you with the idea a few weeks ago, and you’d bought it the next day because it was an amazing idea. You’d known that because you know Ben, but if there was any phantom doubt inside you it’s erased when he flares in your body, and you know he’s seen the gift.

“Fucking Christ,” he mutters, and that’s a positive fucking Christ. That’s the one where he thinks what he’s seeing is a little too good, and can’t really believe his eyes. “Ryan, you got this for me?”

Ryan says your name, rolling on his feet as he watches Ben with wide eyes. “Um, she bought it. But it was my idea. Do you like it-“

“I fucking love it.” Ben mutters, and Ryan looks like he might burst with pride. You might burst with pride, because Ben whole existence in your body is just unrestrained, furious joy. His hands are so careful as he pulls out the refurbished Gramophone, glossy and bronze, complete with the stupid horn. You don’t own any vinyl’s right now, but you’ll find some. For the look of child-like joy on Ben’s face, you’ll buy a whole record store. He’s not crying, but there’s a look of softness that’s glazing over his eyes, his voice is a little hoarse, and you know it’s the closest you’ll get right now. “Good work, kid,” he mutters, running a hand over the polished wood. “Really fucking good.”

Ryan nods, shifting slightly on his feet, and you’re about to kick Ben’s shin in a silent reminder when he sets the gift down and opens his arms, pulling Ryan into a hug you’re sure would kill anyone else, but just makes Ryan’s smile wider and whole body relax. 

Butcher clears his throat, holding about five Hawaiian shirts in his hands. “I like mine too,” he mutters. “Nice fuckin shirts. Good material-“

Ryan grabs Butcher in an equally rib-breaking hug, and there’s only a brief moment of shock on the man’s face before he returns it. Ben takes the moment to grab his and your gift for Ryan, waiting until Butcher’s released to all but shove them into Ryan’s hands. 

“From me,” Ben point to one box, then the other. “From her.”

Ryan nods, dropping onto the couch as he opens Ben’s first. He’s barely halfway through carefully peeling the paper when a third one gets added to the pile, dropped by Butcher.

“Got a few more,” Butcher mutters. “Mostly just some of your mums old shit. Neuman got it with the Vought raids, should be fuckin yours anyway.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Ryan swallows, and when you pull away from Ben to sit at his side, he’s filled with an aching, heavy grief in his lungs, but a little lighter in his heart. And it’ll be like that for a while. But it’s better than even a month ago, and that’s more than enough for you.

Butcher grunts, making a loose nod for Ryan to continue on Ben’s gift, and you don’t have to look up to know Ben’s moved behind the couch. Only a second later his hand on your shoulder as he leans down to kiss the top of your head, and you hold him there as Ryan finally discards all the wrapping paper. 

“It’s built for people like us,” Ben explains as Ryan pulls out a brand-new, firm baseball glove. “Had Frenchie make it, so it shouldn’t fucking break or tear like that pussy shit at the school. Got it a few sizes too large, so you can grow into it.”

“Thank, Ben.” Ryan whispers, giving Ben a wide, toothy grin that you feel spark and glow in Ben’s chest. “I love it.”

Ben grunts as Ryan turns to Butcher’s gift, and you lean backwards to give him an amused smile.

Are you abusing Frenchie’s services? First my books, now Ryan’s glove-

I just fucking asked, Ben glares at you, his mouth tugging slightly upwards. Not my fault the pussy said yes.

Okay. You give him a look of fake, overly sweet innocence. Whatever you say, Benjamin, my love.

He rolls his eyes, running his thumb over your knuckles. Brat.

Cunt. You return your attention to Ryan, watching Butcher with wide eyes as he explains how the book in Ryan’s hands was one of Becca’s favorites, and that there hadn’t been a copy in the boxes Neuman turned over. Ryan’s nodding, looking happier and happier by the second, and when he finally turns to the last gift—your gift—you think your nail might be trying to break into your skin. He’ll love the gift. You’re pretty sure he’ll love the gift. You’re usually pretty good at gifts, but you kind of have a cheat-code with Ben, and there’s a slim chance you might have gotten Ryan’s wrong-

Ryan lets out a small gasp when he opens the box, and it sounds good. His excitement looks real. But it might not be. What if it’s not-

Breathe, Sunshine. Ben mutters in your head, squeezing his hand against you. Look at him, he fucking loves it.

He does look like he loves it. Ryan’s holding the Kindle in light hands, his mouth slightly open and his eyes shining as he turns to you. 

“I put some books on it already,” you say, leaning around him to turn the device on, trying not to be knocked out by the sheer fucking happiness in Ryan’s body. “And we can buy more. You’re allowed to take it to school, and keep it in your room, but you do still need sleep-”

Ryan sets the kindle carefully on his lap, and pulls you into a long, tight hug. His head buried in your chest, his arms around your waist, his strength obviously controlled enough not to snap you in half.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your shirt. “And I promise I’ll still sleep.”

You huff a small laugh, squeezing him back. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Ry.���

Everyone else arrives not long after that. You’re not entirely sure why you’d all agreed to do this at Butcher’s, because no one seems to really be benefiting—It’s loud enough that Ryan shuffles off to his room to read, busy enough that Butcher’s always shouting at someone not to touch something, and crowded enough that you’re all a little on top of each other—but you’re all here, and that’s what matters. You’re curled into Ben’s lap on one side of the couch, Hughie and Annie on the other sie, Butcher glaring at you all from his chair as Frenchie and Kimiko sit cross legged on the floor. There’s no talk of death or pain or blood, only sharing old stories about previous Christmases—Butcher once had to play baby Jesus in the naivety, and he doesn’t seem to find that half as funny as you do—and talking about the easier parts of work. Frenchie’s missing an eyebrow because of a flamethrower incident. Annie got to yell at someone in Singer’s cabinet last week. Ben broke the printer again.

Again? You grin at him, and he scowls.

It’s a stupid fucking machine, why design something with so many goddamn buttons that doesn’t even work half the time-

Benjamin, how many times have you broken the printer? 

There’s a pause, and then, Twelve.

You gape at him slightly, Holy shit, Ben, just let Kimiko print things-

I fucking do, but she can be busy, and I’m not just going to sit on my goddamn ass like a fucking pussy-

You pull him down into a long, soft kiss, opening for him when he presses his tongue on your lower lip, humming when his hands resume their slow patterns on your thighs.

Grumpy. You whisper between your head, and Ben snorts.

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, you-

“We’re eating in 20,” MM’s voice cuts through the air, and when you pull away from Ben he’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed. “Let’s do the gift shit now, so I can get on the road right after.”

Everyone nods, and slowly makes their way back to Butcher’s table, cluttered with the Secret Santa gifts. You all sort through them, passing each other the bags and boxes tagged with your names and holding onto them until you’ve all sat, gifts in your laps.

“I guess, uh,” Hughie looks around the group, scratching the back of his neck. “We can just go in a circle? MM, do you want to-“

MM grunts an agreement, not waiting any further before he carefully removes the paper from his bag, sets it off the side, and pulls out two paper tickets. 

“Children’s science museum.” He reads off of them aloud, looking around the group with a frown before settling on you, and grunting your name.

You shake your head. “No, but that does sound like something I’d do. Are they-“

“For the Boston one,” MM mutters, scanning over the rest of the group. “Annie?”

She nods, a wide smile breaking over her face. “That’s supposed to be the best one on this coast, I thought you could take Janine while you’ve got her for the new year.”

“She’d like that,” MM mutters, giving Annie a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Butcher clears his throat, making it clear that he’s next, and you realize that—if you keep going in a circle—you’ll be penultimate, and Ben will be going last. Good. It’ll help.

Butcher’s not nearly as careful with his packaging as MM was, tossing the bag’s paper aside without thought and freezing slightly when he sees what’s inside. His glare shoots to Hughie, who’s watching with a slightly red face.

“This you, lad?”

“Uh, no-“

“MM?”

MM shakes his head, and Butcher glowers around the rest of the table. Frenchie and Kimiko seem to take pity on him, shaking their heads and leaving Butcher’s scowl on you and Ben. You give a half-hearted shrug and jerk of your head to Ben, and Butcher scoffs.

“Ain’t no bleedin way it’s the old cunt.” Butcher glares at Ben, who tilts his chin up and tenses at your side. “I don’t believe it-“

“Start believing it, you fucking pussy.” Ben snaps. “Tell her you’re welcome.”

Ben nods to you, and you sigh. If you’re being honest, you’d seen this coming. But you still have to pretend to be annoyed with Ben and act like you’re not completely turned on by the way he’s rubbing your thigh, filled with love and pride, and holding you against him like you’re the most important thing in the world. You have to glare at him, and sell the act that you don’t want to grab his stupid handsome face—glowering at Butcher like he can���t believe the man’s nerve—and kiss him until he groans, pins you to the table, and fucks you stupid.

“What do you mean thank her,” MM looks between you and Ben with a narrowed gaze. “Which one of you got Butcher the gift-“

“I did.” You mumble, giving MM an apologetic grimace. “But it was Ben’s name. He told me though, I didn’t ask, and he doesn’t know mine-“

“What is it?” Hughie leans over Butcher, frowning at the bag. “A dog collar?”

“I found Terror.” You explain, chewing the inside of your cheek until it might bleed. “There should be a card in there as well, with a number. You can call it and get him back, if you want. If not it’s just kind of, uh, a dog collar.”

“Ah.” Butcher looks between the collar, now in his hand, and the bag, his words a little lower than before as he turns back to you, something flashing in his eyes that might be a real, good emotion. “Thanks.”

Everyone seems to forgive Ben for breaking the rules immediately—you don’t think they had a lot of faith in him to begin with, which you’d be angrier about if they hadn’t been so entirely correct—and move on to Hughie, but you whack Ben’s chest, glaring up at him.

What the fuck, Benjamin.

It was a good fucking gift, Sunshine, you deserve the credit-

I didn’t care about the credit, dummy.

Well, I fucking do. Ben presses a kiss on the space between your eyes, right where it’s wrinkled from your glower. They should be thanking you all the damn time. 

You wrinkle your nose at him, but smile when his lips move down to your own, the kiss sweet and gentle, letting you sit in the taste of coffee and strawberries in his mouth, drown in the best possible way in Ben, warm and strong and all around you.

When you look back to the group, Hughie’s holding a small, strange device in his hands, having already made his guess and frowning at Frenchie’s explanation.

“Petite Hughie, you are not understanding. You can listen to Billy Joel entire catalogue of music, all on this!”

“So it’s, uh,” Hughie glances down at the device, shoved into his hands. “An iPod?”

“Non, it is a Billy Joel Musical Player.”

“Oh.” Hughie nods slowly, and you and Annie exchange a wide-eyed expression of we can’t laugh. You don’t succeed—breaking out into muffled giggles, Hughie shooting you both glares as he pats Frenchie nervously on the shoulder—but it’s the effort that counts.

After that, with slightly more limited options, it goes a little faster. Butcher got Annie tickets to a pop concert, insisting that she takes photos of Hughie looking awkward and nervous. Frenchie opens his bag to find only a key, and—after guessing Kimiko twice—learns that MM got him a large amount of completely illegal chemicals from questionable sources, only asking that Frenchie try not to murder anyone. Frenchie just shrugs, but before MM can demand a more solid no murder promise, Kimiko is ripping into her own bag, pulling out two Broadway tickets, and pointing to you with a wide smile. When you shake your head her attention moves to Hughie, who nods and tentatively signs that he tried to have them for Decembruary, but they don’t do singing until Walk, and he’ll pay for their sleeping.

That leaves you and Ben. You raise your brows at Kimiko, having done the math, and she gives you a bright smile, gesturing to the bag in your hand as he signs. Open it!

You nod, and find a disgusting wad of cash and sheet of paper with I promise I can cover written out in slightly uneven letters, signatures from Kimiko, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie at the bottom. Ben frowns as he reads it over your shoulder, and when you look up to Kimiko with raised brows, her smile grows. 

You and Ben never got a real honeymoon. She gestures, and you feel Ben tense slightly at your side. You think he recognized his name. I didn’t know where you’d want to go, so I just gave you money for it. We’re going to cover you at work, and you can finally do that.

You don’t bother to put the card down when you pull Kimiko into a long, tight hug, basking in the genuine, bright sensation that’s in her hands and teeth when you touch. Affection for just you, and something that’s a little more wired, but still warm, for Ben. 

“Thank you,” you whisper in her ear, squeezing her once. “That’s amazing, Kimiko. Thank you so much.”

Kimiko just hugs you back—hard enough to bruise if you could be bruised—and Ben’s hand snakes onto your back, rubbing up your spine with warm, careful hands.

What the fuck is it.

I’ll tell you later. You pull back from Kimiko with one last smile, returning your gaze to Ben with a joy you know he must feel, because it’s too big to be kept in your blood. Open your gift, Ben.

He grunts, glaring around the table, and you know the exact moment it hit him. He sits a little taller, his hand stilling on your body, and something golden bursts and sings in his chest. 

You had fucking Hughie. 

Did I? You make a dramatic look of fake thought, unable to contain the grin on your face. I thought Frenchie did?

Ben’s eyes narrow on yours. Did you fucking rig it-

Me?! You gape at him, your smile full on idiotic now. Rig something? Benjamin, how dare you even imply-

He snorts, leaning down to pull you into a teasing, too-chaste kiss. Brat. 

Cunt. Your reply is a little weak in your head, most of your mind focused on Ben’s hands, opening the box with your gift inside. Ben, wait, I’m going have to explain it-

Ben pulls out the shirt, frowning at the bright words over the graphic of genetic, vanilla ice cream in a cone. “Bassets Ice- Fuck, this place is still open?”

MM frowns. “What place.”

Ben turns the shirt for MM to read, his eyes still on you. “Why the fuck did you get me an ice cream shirt.”

“All dad’s should have weird brand-shirts, Benjamin.” You mumble, leaning a little into his side. “It’s a hallmark. My father had a sriracha shirt.”

MM nods off to the side. “Hasbro.” 

“Ford.” Hughie adds, frowning into the air. “My dad didn’t even like cars.”

“See?” You gesture around the table, suddenly slightly nervous he won’t like it. He has to like it. If Ben doesn’t like it, you watched five hours of old Solider Boy interviews—watched Ben not be Ben, wearing that stupid helmet and grinning at the camera in a way you know is fake—for nothing. “And it’s, um, it’s not just the shirt-“

Ben grunts your name in your head, drawing a firm pattern on your thigh. Calm the fuck down. If it’s just a shirt, it’s a damn good shirt-

It’s date! You blurt, grabbing his hand and keeping it pressed on your skin. You said in the 50s that Bassets was your favorite ice cream shop growing up, and you didn’t say it like you said all the other lies, so I thought maybe that it was true and we could go get some ice cream there or something. And then, um, just kind of fuck around? Whatever you want, it’s your date, and it doesn’t have to be ice cream-

Ben, in an act of mercy, wraps an arm fully around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, kissing you long and heavy and deep until you’re slack against him, your arms around his neck and your whole body filled with only Ben’s thunderous love. 

It’ll be ice cream, he mutters in your head, squeezing the skin of your hips. And we can always fuck around, Sunshine. 

Horny- You swallow down a moan when his hand moves to your ass, only vaguely aware of your friends, now faded into the background. Horny old cunt-

I fucking hope so, darling, I’ve got a perfect wife who needs to be fucked stupid later-

MM clears his throat, and you pull away from Ben with a high, slightly whining gasp. “You two either get a room,” he mutters. “Or stop fucking Frenching each other at the goddamn table. Where we’re about to eat.”

You flush, mumbling an apology as you push off of Ben to go get Ryan, pretending you can’t feel the hot, cocky pride and hunger in Ben’s body that feels like another promise. 

Dinner is quick and easy. The rest of the night is quick and easy. MM put together a feast that could probably feed twenty people, but over half the table is made up of supes, so there are only clean plates with no leftovers. MM rolls his eyes, grumbles about being surrounded by a bunch of animals, and leaves for New York with tight hugs and firm nods. From there, it’s all drinks that only send a slight buzz of warmth through your body—Frenchie tells you he spiked yours and Ben’s, the fact that you can feel anything at all likely a sign that he may have just used straight crack—and a game of poker that devolves into threats, cursing and near-injury remarkably fast. You fold quickly, joining Ryan in the corner as he reads, and as the day creeps on into night you’re mostly just happy. Ryan’s slumping slightly at your side, your hand in his hair as you watch Ben call a pale-faced Hughie a pussy-assed lying motherfucker for the fifth time that game, and lose the game for the seventh time tonight.

And it’s easy. Hughie doesn’t flinch at Ben’s words, and Ryan doesn’t cower at the raised voice. He just yawns, eyes drooping slightly, and keeps trying to read when you can feel the daze of sleep creeping over his brain. 

You look up at Ben—glowering at Butcher as he deals the next hand—and he must feel your eyes because he turns in barely a moment.

What- Ben’s eyes land on Ryan, his frown deepening slightly, and looks back to you in a silent question you’ll always understand.

I’m okay, but I think I’d like to go home. You mumble between your heads, fighting a yawn of your own. You can finish the game though-

Ben shoots to his feet, and before you even know what’s happening he’s at your side, scooping a completely asleep Ryan up in his arms. 

“We’re leaving,” he says to no one in particular, glaring around the room at the scattered gifts and down to Ryan in his arms. “One of you pussies-“

“I’ll get the gifts,” you stand up, blinking away sleepiness from your eyes. “Annie, could you please start the car for us? It’s cold and I don’t want Ryan to wake up-“

Annie nods, grabbing Ben’s keys from the table and pulling Hughie with her out the door. Ben doesn’t fight you as you gather the gifts into one bag, but you can feel him tracking your every move, waiting for you to so much as stumble so he can insist you let him carry everything. But when Hughie returns—saying Annie’s waiting by the car—you’re on steady feet, and every good night is a warm hug, soft joke, and smile. Even Butcher lets you give him a strange, uncoordinated side-hug and nods at Ben with a respect that doesn’t seem forced. 

Downstairs, Annie gives you one last hug as Ben loads Ryan into the car, and the night is done. The drive home is short, Ben not helping your bid to remain awake by rubbing your thigh and humming something that you think is supposed to be a lullaby, low and off-key. He’s a little faster than you are, somehow getting Ryan and the gifts, opening the door, and refusing to walk upstairs until you’re clinging to his arm.

Get in bed, Sunshine, he mutters, kissing the top of your head outside your room. I’ll be there soon. 

You nod, shuffling through the door and not bothering with the dresser. You shed your clothing like they’re poison on your skin, pull on one of Ben’s shirts—cast thoughtlessly onto the bed—and crawl between the sheets to wait for him to return, wallowing in the smell of pine until he does.

He frowns when he sees you, his words low and stern. “You need to fucking sleep, darling-“

“No.” You shake your head, reaching for him a little pathetically. “Need you. More gifts.”

Ben shakes his head, pulling off his shirt as he joins you, a slight smirk on his stupid, handsome, amazing face. “You need me,” he drawls your name, and your thighs squeeze together slightly. “You have more perfect shit to give me-“

“Shut up,” you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. Maybe I do have more shit to give you-

“Good. I have more shit to give you,” Ben mutters, tugging lightly on your hair until you meet his gaze. “And I’m first.” 

You’re too tired to argue, so you let Ben shift you fully over his body, twisting your head to watch him reach into his bedside drawer and pull out two tickets.

“Everyone’s getting tickets,” you mumble, letting Ben pass them into your hands. “Are we going to see Frozen off Broadway?”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the fuck a Frozen is. These are for the opera.”

You blink at him, unsure if you heard correctly, and when you speak your voice is small. “The opera?”

Ben grunts an affirmation. “The internet said this one has cannons. And after they’re going to let us have the whole place, and you can sing, or we can dance or just fuck, but we’re not allowed to break shit or they’ll sue us.”

You want to kiss him. You want to pull his tongue into your mouth until he can’t ever stop tasting you, and let him push himself inside you until you’re melded together for the rest of time. But if you start that now you’ll never give him your gift, and it suddenly feels incredibly critical Ben sees your gift now.

“Do you want to know what my secret was?” You whisper, and something sparks in Ben’s chest.

“So it was a fucking secret-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Do you want to know or not, Benjamin-“

“Know.” He grumbles. “What the fuck was it-“

“Open my drawer.” You nod lazily to your bedside table, a little too drunk on Ben to move. “Please.”

He snorts, shaking his head, and any grumble of never having to fucking ask him please dies when he opens the drawer and sees what’s inside. 

“How the fuck…” Ben trails off, and you’ve never been more grateful for being able to sense his emotions than you are now. He’s reduced to silence because his love has turned to a roar in his body, and his head seems a little light from the raw joy and confusion clouding his skull.

“I got some old government files,” your voice is soft, scanning over Ben’s slack expression carefully. “Found your childhood home. Then I, um, I visited it and asked what they did with the old owners possessions. They said the government took a lot of it, so I made Neuman tell me where they were stored. I was, I was going through all the boxes, and I found that. And I’m just, I think I’m ready. Soon. When you are.”

Ben’s love becomes almost primal in your chest, but he still doesn’t look away from the baby blanket. His old baby blanket. Pastel green and soft, somehow not moth-ridden and unraveling, so small in Ben’s massive hand.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You’re sure.”

You nod, swallowing slightly. “I’m sure. I’ve been sure.” You trail your fingers over Ben’s beard, offering him a small smile when his attention returns. “I’m always sure of you, my love.”

That seems to be enough for Ben. He sets the blanket down with heartbreaking gentleness, and brings his lips to yours in a painfully loving and devout kiss. He doesn’t deepen it—even as his hunger becomes primal—only rubbing patterns on the back of your thighs and grinning against your mouth.

“If Ryan wasn’t asleep down the hall,” he growls into your mouth, igniting a heat in your lower gut. “We’d get started right fucking now. But,” he pulls your upper lip between his teeth, smirking at your soft moan. “I waited a hundred goddamn years for this, for you.” Ben says your name like it’s holy, and you can only grind weakly against him. “I can wait a few more nights.”

You nod, pulling away to give him a nervous smile. “So yes?”

“Fucking yes.” He grins, pulling you back into him. This kiss quicker, but filled with more undying heat and need, and it leaves you a little dizzy when he pulls away. “For you, darling, it’s always fucking yes.”

“Oh.” Sleep starts to catch you again, and you begin to sink fully into Ben. Warm and big and strong and Ben. “Good.”

“Damn right,” Ben grumbles, helping you squirm back down his chest. “I fucking love you. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind to tell you no.”

“I love you too,” you hum, a little too lost in Ben to say much else. “Merry Christmas-“

“I think Christmas is fucking over, beautiful-“

“It’s not midnight,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Take my Merry Christmas, Benjamin.”

Ben chuckles, running a hand through your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”'

End Note: Happy Holidays Squad!!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the pure fluff and smut of this miniseries!! See you soon!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx @generalmoonpolice

[perseephoneee]

scarf [ficmas day 15] [isaac lahey x f!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

anon: Hiya! Can you write something for your Ficmas 2024 with Isaac and a scarf? (I know it's so obviously choice 😆) I will be very grateful. @mayfieldss : For ficmas you KNOW I have to ask for scarf with isaac lahey! I love you, you're the best. 💓

author's note: merry christmas you guys <3 i can't believe we finished this challenge (by we I mean me i was burned out at the end). every fic i wrote i was excited to share with you guys, and truly i am so thankful for every single person who reads these. i love writing, and i love writing knowing i'm improving someones day.

i'd love to hear what everyone is excited for this holiday season, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox or message me personally <3 love y'all

playlist:

buy me presents -- sabrina carpenter

cold december night -- michael buble

christmas song -- phoebe bridgers

Isaac always wore a scarf because despite it being in the seventies constantly in Beacon Hills, CA, it was his Mom’s and he liked to remember her. This sentimental fact did nothing to stop theo ther boys from relentlessly teasing him. Because men are idiots. 

You witnessed it firsthand very often. 

“I can’t take you seriously when you wear that,” Stiles shook his head, stabbing his fork into the cafeteria’s excuse for a salad. Isaac just flipped him off. Lunch was often like this. 

“It’s in style,” Lydia defended Isaac. 

“But with the leather jacket?” Stiles waved at Isaac’s outfit. “It’s like if a grandmother joined a biker gang.”

“This isn’t very Christmas spirit of us,” you chided. You had brought lunch from home and were not sad about missing out on today’s lunch specials. Stiles stole a carrot from you in protest. 

“How much do you want to bet that Christmas will be ruined by something supernatural-related?” Stiles asked. You hit him with the back of your hand. 

“Why must you be like this?”

“I didn’t get enough attention growing up,” Stiles smiled at you before swiping more food from your plate. 

“I also didn’t get attention,” Isaac added. “Because I was–”

“Locked in a freezer, yes, we know,” Stiles sighed. “Still milking that?”

“Yeah, still milking that.”

“Very cute; your sadness goes with your scarf.”

You were about to yell at Stiles again when the bell rang. You gave Isaac an apologetic glance but he just smiled. He was a good sport, and could handle Stiles teasing. You don’t know how he managed to keep such a cool head with everything in his life. 

You both shared the next class together, U.S. History and debated asking him. You sat together near the back of the classroom. As it was the last day before winter break, your teacher was playing a movie. A teacher’s cop-out to an actual lesson plan. You couldn’t disagree with your logic. 

You ended up at the table first, like you always did. You were pulling out your journal and pens when Isaac finally came in, sitting next to you. You felt your heart skip a beat as he smiled at you. Neither of you got to say anything as your teacher started class, droning on about the ‘importance’ of the movie and whatever. You were a good student, but you did not care enough to listen to this spiel. Isaac agreed. 

“I just want to go home already,” Isaac rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. 

“Me too,” you sighed, scribbling in your notebook. You doodled when you were bored. “Although I need to stop by the archives first.”

“Archives? Why?” Isaac asked, sitting back up. His knee bumped yours, but he didn’t pull away. You didn’t want him to. 

“Just doing some research on whoever is committing human sacrifices,” you whispered. Your pack’s latest problem. You wondered if you would ever get a break from the supernatural. You also wondered if you even wanted to. 

“It’s the holidays, take a break.”

“This thing won’t take a break.”

“You’re too good,” Isaac muttered. He said it the way someone comments on an art piece, with reverence and understanding. “I’m going with you then.”

“Isaac, it’s going to be boring.”

“So’s sitting at home,” Isaac took one of your pens, flipping it between his fingers. His fingers were nice and long, and you looked away before any unwanted thoughts came into your head. “Besides, I like hanging out with you.”

Sometimes Isaac said things like that, and you wondered if maybe he liked you the way you liked him. How could you not like him? You liked him before he was a werewolf and was just the quiet, lanky boy in your class. You liked him after he turned and started hanging out with your friends. He was always kind to you and always remembered the things you said when no one else did. You hoped that maybe one day he might feel the same. You weren’t always so sure. 

“Okay,” you whispered back, a small smile on your lips. He grinned. He took your journal from you and put it in the middle of the desk so you could both doodle. You drew a whale. He drew an elephant. You drew a gecko. He drew Stiles being electrocuted. You took the pen out of his hand. He wrapped his own around yours to take it back. Sometimes, you really hated him. 

The end of class came sooner than you imagined. You and Isaac decided that the rest of the school day was stupid (you both had two periods left, and both were filler classes), so you decided to skip out. You had driven to school in your parent’s hand-me-down Honda and decided to head out to the Beacon Hills library where the archives were. You weren’t sure if you were going to find anything, but you thought maybe you’d try. Sometimes, the best answers lay in the past. 

You regretted bringing Isaac to the library about twenty minutes into being there. He was all anxious energy, as you researched. He asked you a ton of questions, moved around, and overall was a distraction. It didn’t help that he took off his scarf and jacket, so he was just in a t-shirt. A t-shirt that had shrunk in the wash and, therefore, hugged his body a little too well. The urge to climb in his lap and make out with him right then was overwhelming. You started thinking about things like the Vietnam War and statistics to quell your lust. 

While you didn’t find anything in the archives, you did find some books on the history of human sacrifices and another on pack dynamics that you thought might be interesting. You checked both out and ignored the look of the librarian as she read the titles. Isaac stifled his laughter. 

You were about to ask Isaac if he wanted to grab some coffee before going home (any chance to prolong your time with him), but the question caught in your throat as you regaled who was leaning against your car. 

Ethan and Aiden were waiting for you both, or maybe just Isaac. You were never sure how much of a priority you were to your enemies. You assumed you were low on the totem pole. 

“Lahey,” Ethan called out, stepping out of your car. Isaac gently pushed you behind him. 

“Ladies,” Isaac grinned. “What can we do for you today?”

The twins bristled. “In the spirit of Christmas, we wanted to give back to the people who got us where we are today,” Aiden drawled. Your blood chilled at the connotations. “You destroyed our ride; we destroy yours.”

You very much did not like this idea. 

“This isn’t my car, sorry,” Isaac shrugged. 

“It’s hers,” Ethan pointed to you. You wanted to yell at him, but Isaac refused to let you come out of behind him. “And she’s important to you, so we thought it would be the same thing.”

You would’ve spent more time pondering that comment if Aidan hadn’t proceeded to smash in your windows. You yelled at them, your voice carrying across the parking lot. Isaac growled, rushing forward and pushing Aidan away. Both twins laughed like this was a joke to them. You were in disbelief and anger over the state of your car and knew you couldn’t afford to fix it, especially with extra expenses around the holiday season. You also were angry that these three idiots were having a fight out in the library parking lot. 

“Hey!” you yelled, attempting to get them to break it up. Shockingly, Isaac was holding his own against the alpha twins. Unfortunately, he was still losing. Ethan grabbed the scarf from his neck, dangling it in front of him. You cried out as Ethan ripped it in half. This was only going to end badly, you knew that. Especially as Isaac turned right after, with the twins following. 

You were no match for three werewolves; you were barely a match for a full-grown human man. But you needed to get Isaac out of here before people started noticing and before he got himself killed. You rushed to your car, avoiding the glass and looking in your center console. You found what you were looking for. You gathered up your courage and rushed back to the twins. You sprayed the pepper spray at Aidan and blew your air horn at the same time. All three covered their ears in pain while Aidan cried out about his eyes. You felt smug satisfaction. That was for my car, you asshole, you thought. 

“You three need to knock it the fuck off,” you growled out. They all turned to look at you, resembling wounded puppies. “You’re acting like children and, in the process, damaging Isaac’s property and my property.”

Ethan had the audacity to look slightly ashamed. 

“No wonder you guys were omegas,” you seethed. “You act like bitches.”

You grabbed Isaac’s arm, pulling him away from them. You had no idea where you were going; you just wanted to get away from the parking lot until they were gone. You decided to drag him behind the library. You leaned against the back wall while he paced around. 

“I’m sorry about your car,” Isaac cursed. He still hadn’t turned back, his voice raspy. You shook your head. 

“Not your fault,” you picked at the threads on your sweater. “I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s bullshit,” Isaac growled, kicking at the sidewalk. You let him work through it. 

“I’m sorry about your scarf,” you said earnestly. He was still breathing heavily. 

“If I wasn’t a fuck up, if I hadn’t harassed them, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart broke at his harsh language. You walked over to him, blocking his pacing. He was forced to look at you, golden eyes and all. 

“You are not a fuck up, okay?” He tried to look away, but you grabbed his hand, pulling him back. “You are wonderful, and knowing you have been a gift. You are not responsible for their behavior. You are responsible for your own.” You reached a hand up to smooth the space between his brows, his wolf side subsiding. “You are worth it.”

You watched the gold fade from his eyes, the blue returning. It looked like the sun hiding behind the ocean. You didn’t break eye contact; even if it made you feel uncomfortable, you held on. You needed him to see you were serious. Isaac brought his hand to your face, thumb tracing over the apples of your cheeks. You shuddered at his touch. 

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he murmured. You choked on your words. He cradled his face with both of his hands, kissing your forehead. Your breath was shallow as he kissed your eyelids, the tip of your nose, and finally, your lips. You opened your mouth to his, already desperate to have him in every way. He was gentle with his kisses as if you were a treasure he didn’t want to break. He licked your teeth, and you felt your breath hitch. You sighed when he applied more pressure. Your lips followed after his when he pulled away. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed as he chuckled. 

“I really enjoyed that,” you hiccuped. Isaac brushed your hair back, hands drifting down your arms to your waist. 

“Me too,” Isaac grinned, kissing your cheek. “We should do it more often.”

“I don’t usually put out on the first date.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy,” Isaac raised a brow, and you laughed. “But I think we can arrange something like that.”

You managed to get a vacuum from the library, citing ‘vandals’ as your reason for needing it. They were very polite as you and Isaac cleaned up the stray glass and taped trash bags over the windows so you could drive home. You told your parents the same reason, and they fortunately didn’t blame you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset because all you could think about was your kiss with Isaac. You called Lydia to tell her the news and to tattle on her boyfriend. She was elated that you guys finally did it (“Allison and I had a pool on who would make the first move”) and aggravated with Aidan. You hoped that she yelled at him. 

Isaac texted you at the end of the night that he was going to take you out the next day. You agonized over what to wear (you settled for something nice but still casual). He ended up taking you to a double screening of “Die Hard” and “Scrooged.” You ended up making out in the back of the theater. 

You had dates throughout the rest of the week. You had no idea how to define your relationship (there had been nothing official yet), and you were too afraid to ask. You wanted to be his; you felt like his. You knew there would be no one else for you. 

Isaac invited you over for Christmas dinner. Your parents were heading out to a dinner party and were fine with it. You knew Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski would also be in attendance. You felt welcome into a family you weren’t 100% sure was yours. 

You arrived at 6pm on the dot, wearing a maroon red dress with tights. Isaac answered the door in a dark button-up you haven’t seen on him before. 

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled. He leaned down, kissing you. You had to pull away before you made out on the McCall’s porch. “Can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh?”

“Not when you’re dressed like that,” Isaac looked you up and down. You scoffed, but your heated cheeks betrayed you. Isaac let you in the front door and to the living room where everyone was. Melissa and Noah were preparing dinner while Scott and Stiles drank Martinelli in the main room. They greeted you upon entering. You handed them both their gifts. 

“I can’t believe you and Isaac are dating,” Stiles scoffed, unwrapping your gift by tearing through the paper. “He doesn’t have enough class to keep a girl like you.”

You waited with bated breath to see if Isaac denied the dating claim, but he just wrapped his arm around you instead. 

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Isaac coughed. Stiles glared at him. 

“That analogy would require me to have Lydia, which I don’t.”

“Shocker,” Isaac raised his brows. You elbowed him. Stiles laughed when he saw the collectors editions of Sherlock Holmes you got him. You sat down on the ground next to him so he could give you a hug. 

“You’re so good with gifts,” Scott whistled as he beheld the jacket you thrifted for him. 

“It’s my superpower. You guys are werewolves, I’m actually Santa,” you grinned. Isaac sat down next to you. 

“I didn’t know Santa was hot.”

“I have to keep my identity a secret, or I’ll never get any work done,” you responded. Isaac smiled, leaning in and kissing your cheek. Stiles made gagging noises. 

“I hate seeing you happy.” You and Scott both hit Stiles at the same time. “I was kidding.” 

You pulled out your gift for Isaac, handing it to him. Instead of unwrapping it, he grabbed your hand pulling you up. 

“We’re going to exchange gifts elsewhere,” Isaac announced. “My Christmas gift to you is not kissing her in front of you guys.”

“You’re so gracious,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Happy for you, man,” Scott was too busy trying on his jacket to look at you guys. You hid your face in your hands as Isaac dragged you towards his room. You hadn’t been in it before and already had butterflies in your stomach when he closed the door behind you. 

“Did you have to say that?”

“I speak only truth,” Isaac said. “Plus, I do really want to kiss you.”

He didn’t give you time to explore his space before his lips were on yours. You grabbed his waist as he cupped your cheeks, backing you up slowly. Your knees hit the bed as his lips trailed from yours to your neck. You moaned as he nipped your pulse point. 

“Isaac,” you breathed, attempting to push him away. You would let him divest you of your clothing if it was any other day, but today, you were cognisant of his family downstairs. 

“I just like kissing my girlfriend,” he sighed, pulling back to look at you. “Is that a crime?”

“I’m your girlfriend?” you asked, voice small. His gaze softened. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay…”

“It’s perfect,” you beamed, kissing his cheek. “Now, open your gift before we get too distracted.”

Isaac grumbled as he pulled away from you but grabbed the gift that had been discarded when he started kissing you. You hid your smile as he unwrapped it. Unlike Stiles, he spent a little more time being delicate with it. His breath caught as he saw what it was. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the box in his lap as he unfurled a darker blue cashmere scarf. You sat next to him as he caressed the material. 

“I know it’s not your Mom’s,” you murmured. “But I thought it would look nice on you.”

“It’s perfect,” Isaac sighed, folding it nicely and setting it aside. “You’re perfect.”

He kissed you again, this time gentler but no less passionate. He imbued every word that wasn’t created into that kiss until you felt your head spinning, and you thought you might fall over into the abyss with him. He pulled away with difficulty. 

“I do have a gift for you,” Isaac said, hesitation in his voice. He pulled something out of his pocket, putting it in your hands. You opened them to see the car keys. You looked up in disbelief. 

“Before you ask, no, I did not buy you a car,” Isaac held up his hands in defense. “I can’t afford that. However, I found out that Derek was attempting to get rid of one of his older cars because he had a ton for some reason, and I offered to do maintenance around the apartment complex for three months in exchange for the vehicle. Plus, after I told him it was Aidan who destroyed it, he was pretty amicable.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you beheld your kind boyfriend, who had gone out of his way to replace something and, in exchange, became beholden to someone else again. You didn’t have words for the love fueling you right now. You just pulled him close, clutching him in a hug that almost knocked him over. You breathed in his sweet scent, holding him close. 

“You are amazing,” you grinned, pulling away. “Thank you, Isaac.”

His cheeks turned a cute shade of pink as if he had no idea how to process your love. He looked down at your entwined hands, hiding a smile. You bit your lip.

“I could think of one more Christmas gift I could give you,” you whispered, hand trailing up his thigh. “If you’re up for it.”

Isaac looked up at you immediately, his breath catching as you traced over his jawline to his collarbone. 

“Yes, I think I’d like that gift,” he grinned, pushing you farther back on the bed and kissing you. 

He was the best Christmas gift you had ever received, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. 

taglist: @alice3612 @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp

[lalilaloli]

I was going to wait for the livestream...

Really, I was, but eventually I couldn't wait. Especially with all the spoilers all around. So my first reaktions is of the songs is:

The challenge: Anna Lea has an wonderful voice. She's perfect for Penelope. Strong, emotional but fierce. She and the song is made for each other. She is the wife who has been waiting for 20 years without giving up on her husband. But she's at her wits end. The vultures (suitors) are losing their patience and are closing in on her and her son. She's fighting with everything she have for her husband, her son and herself and now she's going to gamle everything on all all or nothing roll of the dice: Odysseus bow. Her desperation, her refusal to give up hope, her love and her fierceness is all combined in just one song. Queen.

Hold them down: Dark, twisted, cruel, soft and deceitfully seductive. Ayron Alexander gives once again such an amazing performance as Antinous. Softer than velvet, almost like a caress, but with such an darkness and cruel threat barely hidden under the honeyed tones. The lyrics gives me the shudders and goes under my skin.

Odysseus: Oh. My. GOD. SLAY KING!! Literally. The music gives me doomsday feelings. The king is back and have no more fucks to give. And no more mercy. I could write an essay on this song because it's utterly and completely magnificent. Which I might do in the future. The music, the lyrics, the performances. It's just... I lack words right now.

I can't help but wonder: The reunion of Odysseus and Telemachus. Seriously Jorge? You're sending your audience in a mind blowing blood lust induced frenzy à la Ares and then you follow it up with this?? Really, you don't have any consideration for our hearts? Obviously not and I love him for that. Even if you probably could hear my heart break a mile away. Odysseus finally got to meet his baby boy. All grown up but still his beloved child. And Telemachus, he has been waiting his whole life to meet his father. The man who he only know through legends and tales. And now he's finally there. And Telemachus is worried that he's not going to be good enough and Odysseus is so happy and proud over the young man who stands before him and I can't! Also, just one thing more, the way Odysseus voice changes. From the ruthless monster in the song before till the incredibly soft, thick with love and emotional delivery in "I can't help to wonder." Ok. Fine. One thing more. Athena!!! She's back!

Would you fall in love with me again: Also called, Odysseus is an idiot but he's Penelope's idiot. The way that he stands before her. So scared that after all the time and after all he has done that she's not going to be able to love him. He has changed. He has done unspeakable things. He's broken. He not the optimistic and happy young man who left 20 years ago. He is, as Zeus called him "A man full of shame". He has scarified his innocence, his morals, his mercy, his values, his friends. Just to be able to get home to his family. He can barely recognise himself. So how can he expect Penelope to still love him? To ever fall in love with him again. And Penelope won't have it. She. Don't. Care. She loves him. She will always love him. Her delivery of: "Only my husband knew that. What does it make of YOU?!" and Odysseus: "Penelope." His tone so full of wonder and reverence. Penelope "I will fall love with you over and over again. I don't care how, where or when." "Don't tell me your not the same person! You're always my husband!"

Jorge Rivera Herrans. You didn't disappoint.

[xxgoldie]

for your event: can I request seth and q, p, z please? tysm!!

i've been on such a seth kick recently for some reason so i'm taking any excuse to write for him main event page - event masterlist

P: PDA - do they like PDA? how do they react to it from you? When it comes to more innocent, basic PDA, Seth is all for it. Hand holding, hugs, light kisses, compliments and petnames, it's all stuff that makes him really happy whether you're in private or in public. He likes when people can tell at a glance that the two of you are together, and besides, he's such an earnest and straight-forward guy - he's not trying to put on a persona to anyone, he loves you a lot and isn't going to deny himself the pleasure of your affection. But with every step past the basics, he gets even more flustered. He won't ever stop you (unless you catch him on patrol and you're feeling mischievous) because he definitely enjoys it, but he's blushing like an idiot and completely forgets what he was saying. Kiss him with tongue in public, or heaven forbid in front of his coworkers, he becomes a puddle of a man; can't help but melt into the kiss but the fact you're in public is in the back of his mind so he's bright red when you pull away, tries to start like twenty sentences at once but just gets out some garbled sound, tries to give you an annoyed look but he just ends up looking lovesick and pleading (which is exactly how he feels, he could never get annoyed at you, especially not within thirty seconds of your lips on his)

Q: Quirk - what's a little oddity / beige flag they have in relationships? When the two of you are hanging out around the house, Seth has a tendency to follow you around. It'll basically always happen when you're having a conversation, where you can walk around and he'll follow you while talking, but a lot of the time it'll be just when the two of you are just sitting together doing your own separate thing and you get up to do something. He just has an instinct to be where you are, even if he's still scrolling on his phone while doing it. It's cute most of the time, but sometimes you'll need the toilet and he'll trail after you, barely paying attention until you stop and stare at him until he snaps out of it and realises that he's standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Then he'll get out of the way and let you pee in peace.

Z: Zzzzzzz - how do they sleep with you? what's it like to share a bed with them? Seth sleeps pretty peacefully, but also pretty lightly. Between his job keeping him aware of his surroundings and being a cat Thiren, a proper deep sleep is quite rare for him. He sleeps deeper with you, though, the comfort (both physical and psychological) of having you beside him lulls him into full relaxation. However, if you move around a lot in your sleep, he will likely at least partially wake up from it - though he is one of those lucky sods that can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, so as soon as you're settled and comfortable again he'll doze back off like nothing happened. When it comes to sleeping positions he's basically happy as long as he's holding you, but if he had to choose, it'd be when you're facing each other, legs intertwined and his face nuzzled into your hair; the smell of your shampoo and your soft breath on his collarbone being the first and last thing he experiences every day makes him smile immensely, to the point it's not uncommon for you to wake up to him almost grinning in his sleep.

[classicanalyzer]

What If Season 3 - What If... the Red Guardian Stopped the Winter Soldier? Thoughts

"Now, think. Think back. What's the first thing you see?" Alexei Shostakov

"I see... I see... I see Coney Island." The Winter Soldier

"See! You are somebody. You are the Great Coney Island hero. And the Red Guardian is proud to fight next to you." Alexei Shostakov

Episode 3 was so peak. Alexei is so fun! I really wish we got a movie, a show, or something with him because he's such a fun character. His dynamic with Bucky is also pretty fun. We got so much lore about the assassination of Howard and Maria Stark. This is the last episode written by A.C. Bradley, and man I'm going to miss her writing and work in What If. Also, this episode was supposed to be in S2 (footage of it can be seen in S2's title sequences and the S2 finale fanfare) but was swapped out for the Corpsman Nebula episode which was supposed to be in S3.

Alexei's character in this episode is really great. He may be really enthusiastic about his belief in Communism and the Soviet Union, but it's clear he genuinely wants to do good. I really like how he isn't as dumb as he looks and how he sees the good and best in people. Someone also pointed out how since this is 1991, the USSR is on the verge of collapse, and Alexei thinks they will overthrow the US which shows how he was kept in the dark by his bosses about the USSR's deteriorating situation. Even Alexei realizes after he knows Dreykov and the Red Room are working with Capitalists that those at the top never truly cared about the ideals of the USSR as he did. I also find it funny that the What If situation possibly came that, What If Alexei stole the file of the Winter Soldier's assignment lmao. David Harbour was amazing casting for Alexei in the Black Widow movie and this episode continues to prove why it was perfect casting.

I really love how Dreykov and the Red Room knew about and was connected to HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. It makes me wonder if the Red Room's Sky Fortress was a HYDRA collaboration and the Red Room simply cut their ties with HYDRA after the Winter Soldier movie. While this doesn't fix my feelings about the Red Room's Sky Fortress, someone pointed out how HYDRA most likely covered up the Sky Fortress from SHIELD. This makes so much more sense than if the Sky Fortress was simply able to hide for so long because it was simply good at "hiding" lmao. I also liked how it pays off a fact from S2 Episode 2, Bucky as the Winter Soldier was used by the USSR. That's some great multiversal continuity there haha. I love the Red Room presence in this episode with Dreykov and the Red Room Task Force soldiers. Also, Antonia Dreykov being in the picture is pretty sad and dark given what happened to her and how Dreykov never truly cared about his own daughter.

I love to see Bill Foster in this episode and I love his suit from S2 Episode 2. It's just really nice to see Bill Foster as the hero Goliath since we never saw him in action before in the movies. Ranger Morales was also a fun new side-character for this episode.

The montage of Alexei and Bucky heading to the United States was perfect and funny with the major differences in their purpose and tone. When that Winter Soldier theme kicks in, I got the chills. I like that Alexei does have his morals, even if he says it's to spread Communism and the revolution, it shows how he doesn't tolerate the work HYDRA is doing. It's really funny seeing Alexei quip during his fight with Bucky that Bucky just resorts to biting him.

I laughed when Bucky and Alexei both agreed to go off the cliff, even Uatu was surprised. These two super soldier idiots really make for a funny team once Bucky loosens up a bit. The Russian music in this episode is both epic and funny given how it's used. I also love the comedic gag of Alexei trying his best to get Bucky to stop resorting to killing as the first solution to every problem.

Bucky legit has a mental crisis when he realizes he failed for the first time. I love the arc where Bucky even if for this mission broke out of the programming and realizes HYDRA never cared for them. The scene with him remembering Coney Island is so heartwarming given how he and Steve hung out at Coney Island. Likewise seeing him reject Dreykov’s kill order on Alexei was heartwarming to see. I also love how he listened to Alexei's advice of using his metal arm to block the bullets when Stane tried to kill them. Their friendship (they’re basically siblings in this episode) truly is one of the most heartwarming things to see how Alexei managed to bring the good out of the Winter Soldier and both of them considering themselves friends. Sebastian Stan's voice performance went a long way from him phoning it in back in Episode 1. Also “Technique!” haha.

"He's right, though. About the Red Room, Dreykov..." Alexei Shostakov

"Dreykov's a pig. All of them are. But not you. You are a good man." The Winter Soldier/Coney Island Hero

The Rook being Obadiah Stane was a surprise to me. It didn't register that was him until near his death and the end credits confirmed my suspicions. I was really surprised but yet also not surprised that Obadiah told the Russians (and therefore by extension HYDRA) about Howard's recreation of the super soldier serum. God, seeing Obadiah talk about how "amazing" Capitalism makes me sick, and glad to see him fall out of the window after Bucky threw Alexei's shield at him. Hopefully, with Howard and Maria Stark alive along with Stane's death, Tony's life will be a lot less messed up and has less daddy issues.

I really hope Vasily Karpov dies in Las Vegas that's one less HYDRA personal in this universe. Also, I hope when Bucky was being brainwashed that this time, it was less successful than the previous moments, thanks to Alexei's influence. Plus, thanks to Alexei disavowing the Red Room and his nation, the Siberian Winter Soldiers will never occur!

Also hell yes, Alexei gets to be a part of the Avengers and Captain America knows him!

Episode 3 is truly a peak episode and showcases a dynamic ripe with story and character exploration. It'll be very interesting to see how Thunderbolts will show the two interact. This episode uses its characters amazingly well.

Note: Someone pointed out that so far, each episode has a tiny person interact with someone or something much taller (Sam with Gamma Apex Bruce, Kingo with Celestial Agatha, and now Alexei and Bucky with Goliath). I wonder what Episode 4 will do to continue this streak haha.

"Fighting for survival. For acceptance. Fighting to be somebody. But in the end, the fight is never the point. It's your friendships that change the course of history. Even when they end." Uatu

[cowboylikefaith]

with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"

[beerok23]

Excerpt from Chapter 6 - The Smithes

“So, you’d rather spend the rest of your life cultivating a platonic friendship with the man who’s most definitely your soulmate?” “If that’s my only option, yes.” Oh, God. Aziraphale really believed this bullshit. Maybe this time Maggie needed a more brazen approach. She closed her eyes and took a deep sigh to muster up the strength she needed for her next words, “Aziraphale Fell, you are a complete IDIOT if you think that Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t love you back. That man has been head over heels for you for five years, honestly, how can you not see? I don’t care how you do it, just TALK TO HIM!” Aziraphale pouted, “Nina’s having a bad influence on you.” “Thank God!” Maggie retorted. “I’m serious, Az. Have you got any idea how many times Crowley has asked me about you at work? ‘Oh, Maggie, does Aziraphale like this book?’ ‘Hey, Mags, do you happen to know if Aziraphale is already planning to go see this play?’ ‘Maggie, can you find me this Shostakovich record for Aziraphale?’ – He’s so obvious, and it infuriates me that you two aren’t together yet!” Aziraphale looked flabbergasted. Oh, so he never knew about this? “But– the other night–” “Forget it, will you?” Maggie raised her voice again. “Have you considered that maybe he was just as embarrassed as you were? As scared as you?” Aziraphale seemed to ponder on her last words for a moment. “Oh, Maggie.” He finally spoke. “I think you might be right. It’s time I stop living in fear and try to be brave. I need to tell him that our friendship isn’t enough for me anymore. That I wish we could have… something more.” Maggie was so taken by her attempt at helping Aziraphale that she got very irritated when people started going back and forth behind them. Someone was going back inside after their cigarette break (right now, Maggie would do literally anything for a hit) while others were getting outside to take their place. “And what about Brown?” Aziraphale snorted, “I have a feeling that Brown already knows that I’m hopelessly devoted to him. I did so little to hide it. It’s time he understands that I love him more than anything in this world.” Once again, Maggie heard the door opening and closing behind them. But she didn’t care anymore, because Aziraphale had just come to the conclusion he should have reached approximately 1800 days before. “Oh my God, this is so exciting I want to cry!” She jumped, her voice all squeaky. “You’re really doing this?” Aziraphale beamed at her, “I am. And you know what? So are you.” Maggie’s good mood changed drastically, “I am what now?” “You’ll tell Nina that you love her. And I know she’ll say it back.” Maggie lost all of her confidence, “Wh-Why are you sure she’ll say it back?” Aziraphale just shrugged, “Because it’s Christmas. And at Christmas you tell the truth.”

Betaed by @hermiola 💛💛💛

TAG LIST @firephoenix2305 @on1occasionfork  @moralsofanalleycatsposts  @captainblou @bellisima-writes @shadesofecclescakes @ineffablerainstorm @pookasluagh @somewhere-in-wales @missunderstoodlyrics

The Grass is Always Greener - Ch. 1

It’s almost Christmas in Whickber Street, a quiet neighborhood in the little town of Tadfield. Mr Brown sees the upcoming holiday as the perfect chance to throw a party to impress Mr Fell, the charming bookseller who lives next door. He must deal with Mr Crowley, though, an annoying astronomer who moved to Tadfield five years prior and became best friends with Mr Fell. Mr Crowley and Mr Fell both secretly wish that their relationship was something more, but they are two idiots, so they keep on pining for each other under the scrutiny of Comma, Crowley’s very insightful cat. ~ A Good Omens Christmas AU ~

A huge shout out to my Beta @hermiola 💛💛💛

For @pookasluagh, @ineffablerainstorm and @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Ch. 1 - Utterly Ridiculous

“It’s the most — wonderful Christmas instalment I’ve ever seen, Crowley.” Mr Brown tried to ignore the fact that his response was coming along with the chorus of Somebody To Love – and was that a blush on Mr Fell’s face? “How did you build this up on your own? I’m pretty sure this wasn’t here yesterday.” Mr Fell looked extremely impressed. And also in awe. How Mr Crowley hadn’t realised that their neighbour was obviously enamoured of his presence was a mystery worthy of being studied. “Oh. Well, uhm. You know. Yeah, mmm, I just… I worked on it last night.” “Sounds like an impossible job for only one person,” Mr Fell noticed. “Not impossible, no. Just… intricate.” “I didn’t picture you as a modern music lover, Mr Fell.” Mr Brown interjected, trying to spark his interest (to no avail), but sparking one of Mr Crowley’s infamous glares, instead. “Oh, well, I’m not a fan of… bebop, per se,” Mr Fell elucidated, immediately thwarting Mr Crowley’s attempt to retort, “But I’ve become quite accustomed to Queen. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only music that Crowley’s car likes playing.” Mr Brown ignored the fact that Mr Fell was talking about an inanimate vintage Bentley as if it were a sentient being. “It’s rock, Aziraphale, for god’s sake!” Mr Crowley immediately moved his tongue in his mouth as if he was trying to deal with the lingering of a very bad taste. “And to be fair… it is a bit loud, my dear.” Oh, Mr Brown would have given an arm to be called that. But he was already sadly and pathetically aware of the fact that the possessive adjective only applied to a scrawny-man-in-black. Another thing that the idiot hadn’t realised yet, apparently. Perfect, now the idiot was smiling that smug smirk of his. Mr Crowley manifested a remote control from a pocket of his far too light jacket (it was December, how could he cope with going around almost undressed?!) and pressed a combination of buttons. The music changed, and Queen gave way to a very soft and mellow piano track. Mr Fell recognised it immediately and put his hands on his cheeks. Brown couldn’t tell if they’d just reddened for the cold or because he was blushing. “Oh, Crowley! It’s Debussy.” Brown witnessed impotent as Mr Fell gawked at Mr Crowley with that look in his eyes. “I asked the project designer to add a second combination to play at night. I didn’t want Freddie’s vocals to keep the whole neighbourhood perpetually awake for a month.” “Debussy’s Clair de lune is my favourite piano piece.” Mr Fell’s hand was metaphorically on his heart, now. “I know,” came Mr Crowley’s bashful answer. Mr Brown sighed in exasperation. You see, one could only stand a certain dose of languid looks of understanding between these two idiots. And when you were forced to witness such knowing looks day after day, after day… Well, let’s just say you would have developed a slight idiosyncrasy towards redheads too.

[ghostlyfanparadise]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[egophiliac]

OH YEAH HIS TAIL ALSO LIGHTS UP

here's a bunch of quick reactions to some of the smaller bits, while I work on bigger things for the bigger bits and obsess over Silver's breakdown some more. don't be fooled -- this is only the beginning of my descent into pure diasomnia hell.

(I also need to figure out how to draw OB Mal better)

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters

[stromuprisahat]

metvmorqhoses:

Let’s not forget that this grand declaration of love, the “I see you now” (which would have already been top cringe in normal circumstances) is only coming right after the entire country has started to see the said “old friend” as a national treasure and a literal saint lol could it be that the idiot only started to “see her now” because literally everyone else suddenly started to see Alina as special? Worth seeing now? One has to wonder lmao

all of Ravka:

Malyen: I see you now...

sad-outsider:

I think this is from R&R, but I could be wrong🤔

albediz:

Well, I'm not sure either, but I think they're referring to a chapter of ruin and rising. Ruin and Rising Chapter 16 - "I looked down, brushing petals off of the desk. “Did you ever notice me at Keramzin?” He was silent for a long moment, and when I glanced at him, he was looking up at the glass ceiling. He’d gone red as a beet. “Mal?” He cleared his throat, crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, I did. I had some very… distracting thoughts about you.” “You did?” I sputtered. “And I felt guilty for every one of them. You were supposed to be my best friend, not…” He shrugged and turned even redder. “Idiot.” I think that would be it, but Mal said she feels "guilt" not "shame". Unfortunately, I have this chapter recorded in my memory since it is where Mal and Alina have sex and it is quite depressing.

Thanks. I'm glad I didn't get to it yet.

You can tell he's supposed to be cute by how red he gets. I suspect he might be holding his breath to fool Alina, because it's funnier explanation than "LB's trying to make it heartwarming and adorable by suddenly presenting Malyen as awkward and shy, when some of us remember how he treated Alina previous two books".

But hey- he didn't mean it. He just couldn't bring himself to ask out the only girl he truly wanted. 😉

Thinking about it- this shows the seeds of two cases of terrible gaps between writing and expected perception- Wesper and Zoya.

To keep it short (I wrote about both elsewhere.)- Wesper is presented as a cute relationship, yet when you look, they're a variation on "If he bullies you, he likes you.". Zoya gets traumatic past and a garden for dead people she previously didn't care about to make her vulnerable and tender on the inside. Deep, deep down. Please ignore her mean, cruel behaviour.

Besides, if a guy acted the way Malyen does in a situation like this, I wouldn't interpret it as a shared vision of married future, I'd suspect him he was jerking off above my sleeping form (since there wasn't that many to pick from, and Alina likely believes she's never supposed to touch her nether parts, so she won't even think about that option).

The fact that Malyen felt ashamed of the feelings he had for Alina already tells us a lot about these supposed feelings.

In reality, who would want to fall in love and date a stick...

Hey nonny, next time add a quote or at least a chapter please, because I'm not sure which of his star moments you're refering to. I don't think he ever speaks about shame- that's Alina's domain.

What I DO remember is his surprise he misses his "oldest friend", which like... okay, who wouldn't be shocked to care about losing something they took for granted?

Forgive the sarcasm, but I'll never cease to be baffled this is supposed to be peak romance. I miss my own bed, when away from home. You're telling me he didn't thought he might feel the same about a PERSON he spend most of his life with? One he ALLEGEDLY ~cares~ about?!

That whole scene leading to his great declaration lies somewhere between laughable, pathetic and repugnant. I've already done its analysis, but let's try again:

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” “Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together,” he said fiercely. He was very close now, and my heart was suddenly hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 19

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” Looking for assurance Alina DID miss him. Which could be innocent, except his next sentence makes it sound as if she chose to leave of her own free will. To abandon HIM.

“Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. Trying to outdo Alina in how much. It's pretty childish- Malyen is no poet going for hyperbole, even unintentional, it's as if Alina's feelings weren't enough. HE's the one giving more (and deserving greater appreciation).

And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. Yup! Here's the one on how much did he value her company before she became important to others...

I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. Again, another half-innocent sentence, that grows much more negative in context of his previous and following (S&S!!!) behaviour towards Alina. He doesn't seek her out because he enjoys her company, but because he's used to her unwavering presence. It's about what she can do for him.

And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. Yes, that happens, when you lose a constant in your life, but that doesn't mean you love or care about it. It might be about a comfort of rutine.

I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you ... now he's listing what she should be grateful for as if she asked for any of it. Knowing Alina at this point, steady glance in her direction would be enough, but that's no grand gesture, is it?! This makes me think how often Alina has to listen to the list of what he gave up for her post-R&R. How often he seeks loud appreciation of his "sacrifices". Happy home indeed.

... I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together, Again, this one started nice... for Malyen to fuck it up with the last sentence. That one isn't reassurance. That's an order. What if Alina only wanted to be friends? The excerpt above follows Malyen's anger over Alina's performance at Winter Fete: That night at the palace when I saw you on that stage with him, you looked so happy. Like you belonged with him. I can’t get that picture out of my head. What if Alina realized Baghra was lying and wanted to regain Aleksander's trust? What if she found someone else? What if she decided she has plenty on her plate as it stands, so she won't start a romantic relationship with anyone? The next book will show us neither of those options are an option, when Malyen's concerned. He'll guilt-trip her into being with him want it or not.

And here comes the cherry on the top- I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now. I don't need to be mean to say too little- too late. Hell, Alina could (should) have! This sounds like he's expecting a pat on his head and a badge of honour for his accomplishments. Admitting he wronged her in the past shouldn't earn him a clean slate, he should first change his ways. Not to mention he'll soon prove "see" and "accept" are a whole different beasts.

Geez, it gets worse with every re-read!