#ben's a cocky little shit sometimes

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch

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@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

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@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant

@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373

@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[pamwritessometimes]

Loving Soldier Boy…

Soldier Boy x reader (drabble)

Summary: Just a short n’ (bitter)sweet drabble about what it’s like to love Ben.

Warnings: language, innuendos (c’mon, it’s Ben), mention of violence

Song inspo: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) by Taylor Swift.

Loving Soldier Boy isn’t easy.

You knew Soldier Boy was a handful. Hell, he knows he’s a handful. And you know Ben has never been handled before. Not properly. Not by someone who knows when to push and when to pull, when to hold steady and when to let go.

But you?

You thought you had him figured out.

He’s bad news — at least that’s what everyone keeps telling you.

“That man is not safe” MM says, arms crossed.

“He’s straightdown psychotic” Annie agrees, looking at you like she’s waiting for the spell Ben must have put on you to break.

Hughie just grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure about this? Like, really sure?”

Frenchie sighs. “I have seen many dangerous men, mon coeur, but that one?” He shakes his head. “That one is the iceberg that sinks the ship.”

Even Kimiko seems to eye you with pity.

And Butcher — he just tsked.

“That’s a bloody dangerous game you’re about to play, luv.”

But all that didn’t matter.

Not when Ben flashes you that cocky, wolfish grin. Not when he pulls you in with that fiery gaze that makes your pulse stutter. Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

He’s a walking contradiction.

He can be crude and crass and violent, but his hands that are scarred and calloused from years of supposed war and bloodshed, are so uncharacteristically gentle when they touch you like he’s terrified of breaking something he doesn’t know how to stitch back together.

And you love it.

You love that you make him hesitate.

That you make him stay.

"Fuck, you’ve ruined me" he murmurs one night, pressing his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “You made me a goddamn pussy.”

Loving Soldier Boy is mastering the skill of interpreting nonverbal communication.

You see, Ben isn’t good with words. Not the important ones, anyway.

But he’s fluent in actions.

Like how he always, always keeps a hand on you — your waist, your back, the nape of your neck — like he needs the physical contact to remind himself you’re real and still with him.

Or how, when you’re pissed at him, he won’t apologize outright, but he will fix your coffee just the way you like it, set it down in front of you with a grunt and a pointed look, like There. Happy now?

Or the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you because no matter how much of a dick he is sometimes, the thought of him possibly outliving you haunts him.

He’s an asshole. A menace. A walking disaster.

And yet, when he pulls you into his lap, his fingers threading through your hair, his lips ghosting over yours—

You think maybe he’s worth the trouble.

Loving Soldier Boy is a delicate art.

It’s catching the flicker of rage in his eyes before he explodes, steering him away from the fire instead of into it.

It’s letting him run his mouth, knowing that half the shit he says is just to get a rise out of people, and the other half—

Well.

“Because it was fucking beeping” he answers when you find bullet holes in your microwave.

Ben’s not stupid.

But when he came back from the dead, or, you know, from 40 years of being locked up, you’re starting to realize… he might not be as up to date as he thinks.

You blink. “Because it was beeping?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, leaning back against the counter like he didn’t just pull some absolute batshit nonsense. “Wouldn’t shut the hell up.”

“That’s… literally its job, Ben.”

“Well, now it’s unemployed.” He smirks. “Like half the people I’ve worked with.

Loving Soldier Boy is like wrestling with a live grenade.

Violence isn’t just second nature to Ben — it’s first.

He doesn’t do restraint.

Like the time some guy got a little too close to you at a club and ended up with a broken jaw — because Ben doesn’t do warnings either.

Or the time he punched a cop without even thinking about the consequences.

“To be fair, he was being a dick.”

“He was giving you a parking ticket.”

Ben scoffs. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?” He throws his hands up, all mock innocence. “I told him not to touch my car.”

Loving Soldier Boy is fighting for feminism while actively losing the war.

There’s something infuriating about Ben’s shameless, unapologetic brand of horniness.

His jokes are always just a little too loud, just a little too offensive, making you cringe even as he smirks, because he knows damn well what he’s doing.

And yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

And he knows it.

No matter how many times you glare at him, no matter how often you mutter “Ben, we are in public”, he sees the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together when he leans in too close, and he can practically smell the forming pool in your panties.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” His voice is low, dripping with amusement. “Don’t act like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you.”

You glare at him. “You literally just told the bartender that I needed something ‘to keep my mouth occupied.’”

Ben grins. “And I stand by that.”

You fight the urge to groan. “You are insufferable.”

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “But you like me insufferable.”

And fuck.

Maybe you do.

Loving Soldier Boy is realizing you’re the one really losing the fight.

When the team calls you out on his bullshit, you just sit there and listen.

You have no defense.

Because what are you even supposed to say?

He’s trying? (He’s not.)

He didn’t mean to? (He absolutely did.)

He’s a work in progress? (Is he?)

And despite what everyone says — despite the fact that he probably won’t ever change — you can’t seem to stop yourself from diving headfirst into the madness.

Maybe you can’t fix him.

But damn if he doesn’t make it worth trying.

The chokehold this man has on me is insane — help

Also… This sat in my drafts for months, but I gave it a reread and didn’t completely hate it — so here you go. Hope you enjoyed!🤍

xx Pam

[h0rr0rsaxo]

PLAYFIGHTING WITH THEM + CREEPYPASTA MEN.

Masterlist / Requests?

SYNOPSIS: How they'd act while play-fighting with you.

PAIRINGS. Jeff the killer x reader, Ticci Toby x reader, Eyeless Jack x reader, Hoodie x reader, Masky x reader, Homicidal Liu x reader, Ben drowned x reader.

GENRE + WARNINGS. It gets a bit suggestive during some parts, but it's mostly fluff overall.

ﾒ JEFF 

He's so competitive— in a good way. He loves to just grab your wrists, and overpower you, the smug-shit eating grin on his face. The moment your hand made contact with his hoodie, you felt a hand grip your side— the hand gripped onto your clothes tightly and was then followed by swooping legs that kicked your knees out from under you. Jeff then will use this momentum and his grip on your side to remove himself from under you before you hit the bed. In the blink of an eye, the cocky man had flipped you under hom and placed each knee beside your hips to pin you in place. He never lets you win, and probably never will. He's such a loveable asshole. His idea of an award for overpowering you is…suggestive.

ﾒ TOBY 

Toby tries to be gentle, but to be completely honest— he doesn't know his own strength so there is a chance he might hurt you, just a little bit. Toby would wrap his arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around and then gently setting you back down. You would both giggle and laugh as you playfully tugged at each other's limbs, all the while maintaining a sense of mutual respect and affection. Whenever he would playfully tug you over to him, he'd press kisses all over you while you desperately laughed and pushed at him in attempt to get him to let you breathe.

ﾒ JACK 

He doesn't do this often— considering he's very much a large demon man, he's very gentle with you no matter what— so it's somewhat obvious that he wouldn't play fight with you often. He would have to be in an especially giddy mood, and even then— he will probably just let you pin him down to see that victorious little grin on your face. He won't directly wrestle with you, but he will bite you LOL. He will sink his teeth in your skin and smirk at your little giggles/whimpers— it might become way more heated than you had originally intended. 

ﾒ HOODIE 

This man. Oh my God. He's such a loveable asshole. He definitely DOESN'T let you win. He's usually tired by the time he gets home— but as he watches you casually fold clothes, his tiredness begins to fade, and he finds himself feeling more and more awake, energized by the company of his darling. He will randomly wrestle with you and act extremely playful. He will lean over and plant a soft, playful kiss on your cheek, causing you to giggle. His eyes will sparkle with mischief when he's playfully wrestling with you on the bed, and ruining all the folded clothes. Will he help you fold the clothes afterwards? Only if you win. 

ﾒ MASKY

Will let you win sometimes, just so he can go to sleep. If he's feeling petty though, he will overpower you just so he can see that cute little annoyed frown on your face. He also loves to man-handle you lmao. You watched as Tim rolled his eyes, knowing that after all the shit talking you had done over the last hour, it wouldn’t take more to get him to snap. You slid your hands up his sides as you lightly brushed your lips along his jawline. The moment you felt his breath hitch, you planted your hands on his chest and shoved him down on the bef, quickly jumping back out of his reach. At first— you were just being playful, but now, it turned into something else. 

ﾒ LIU

I love Liu so much— he always lets you win, and compliments you throughout the entire time. The cute little compliments aren't meant to catch you off guard— but they do anyway. Despite the playful tone of your words, it was clear that you both held a deep love and respect for each other. As you continued to play-fight, your movements grew more fluid and graceful, as if they were dancing rather than wrestling. Finally, after several minutes of play— you both ended the game with a gentle embrace, both breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear. In that moment, it was clear that your cute bond went far beyond mere physical play, and that the love and affection they shared for each other was truly special. He loves you so much.

ﾒ BEN

You guys struggle to overpower eachother lmao… you both play-fight all the time, engaging in playful banter, teasing each other with witty remarks and jovial insults. Sometimes, he'll grope you just to catch you off guard, or throw a string of extremely suggestive compliments giving him enough time to be able to flip you over. He's easily flustered though, so you can turn the tables on him and make him extremely flustered with little to no problem— and he's so dramatic about it too, he will pretend to die lmao, "At least my last moments were spent with someone with nice thighs…! *dies*" Thick or stick, he loves your thighs bro. Bonus points if you (gently) choke him with them.

[raythekiller]

🗒 ❛ What Loving Them Is Like ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack

#Notes: warning for maybe some suggestive stuff in jeff's part (if u squint)

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

He's cockiness personified and skittish grins that make you mad in the best way possible. He's playfights and holding your wrists above your head as he stares down at you all arrogant-like, demanding a reward now that he won. He's rough hands cupping your face oh-so tenderly, giving you kiss after kiss after kiss, unable to get enough. He drives you mad, but also keeps you sane.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

He's late nights where you're just chilling together, laughing at nothing and everything at the same time. Kissing his cheek when he loses a game because you know he's such a sore loser. He's marijuana filled kisses on your lips, the taste intoxicating you. He's cuddling on the bed and mumbled "Just five more minutes" as both of you refuse to get up and away from each other.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He's late night walks in the woods, venting to each other about life, how terrible yet wonderful it can be sometimes, holding hands as you speak. He's unstable moods and hysteria, but he's just a bit more gentle with you. His eyes light up whenever you walk into the room, his face practically beaming as he falls for you all over again like it's the first time. He's thinking that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay now, because you've got each other.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

He's not aggressive, but he can be when it comes to making sure you're safe. He's protective and you know it, everyone does - it's his instinct. He's a gentle arm around your shoulder or waist as you walk together, a display of affection and a warning all in the same. He's intellectual conversations you never knew you craved, which are such a breath of fresh air compared to most of the superficial ones you have. He's yours, truly and entirely, and you're his.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Laughing Jack

He's carnival dates and smiling so much your cheeks hurt. He's lovestruck looks sent your way when he hears you laughing because he swears that's the only thing he wants to hear for the rest of his immortal life. He talks shit, but you know he doesn't mean it when he holds you just a little too tight, almost scared to let go, like you'll disappear if he does.

[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

[chipistotallysane]

I wrote a bit for what I am now dubbing my Forever Trapped AU! This is when Ben meets Rook and how Rook finds out about the trauma Ben went through because of the Forever Knights :3

-------

It was going so good.

When Ben had met Rook, he was expecting him to know what happened all those years ago. The issues he faced because of the Forever Knights were still present after all, no matter how much time had passed. He thought Gwen would’ve at least told him a little bit.

The thing was, Rook didn’t know a single thing. He only knew the Forever Knights as some villain of the week. A menial foe the (in)famous Ben Tennyson left for his partners to deal with. Rook was a clean slate, he wasn’t going to act all weird around him (except for the small idolization he had, but that would fade fast). In the eyes of Rook, Ben would be… as close to normal as he ever could be.

That fact alone made him want to cry happy tears and hug the living daylights out of him. That wasn’t very normal though, so he played it cool. Rook was a bit strange sometimes, but hey so was Ben. He was funny (in a deadpan-sarcasm sorta way, which Ben had too!), and an amazing fighter, and they got along great! Rook was basically his best friend at this point, and they teased and laughed at each other just like best friends do. He couldn’t be more happy, and he must’ve texted Gwen at least a hundred thank you’s and another two hundred for Grandpa Max and Kevin for this. He was slightly nervous to be without them at first, but with Rook and his newfound normalcy he felt like he could take on anything that came his way.

Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever. Especially with Ben Tennyson.

The day had started normal as ever, deceptively normal. Ben woke up, brushed his teeth, took a shower, ate breakfast. Then he got an alert about some goons or whatever trying to infiltrate a local museum. Seemed like a typical villain of the week, some easy shit for Rook and him to wipe the floor with. He was dead wrong, of course.

That’s where he was now, at the museum; locking eyes with the leader of the Forever Knights (what was left of them) and feeling so, so impossibly small. If he could go back and do something different he might’ve rather crashed the prototruck than be here, now. It was already bad enough that his vision was blurring because he was holding his breath again, but Rook was here. He could see his blurry shape to the side of him, probably confused as to why he was frozen in place. He wasn’t supposed to know. They were supposed to be normal friends. It had been going so well.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen my most informational experiment after it escaped, I almost couldn’t recognize its human disguise.” the knight said, not to Ben but to his followers. Ben tensed up bad at the way he talked, it’d been so long since he last heard himself talked about like that. Six years, six years had passed and here he was; frozen in place like the terrified kid he was when it first happened. He hated how they didn’t even address him. He hated himself for being so scared, for almost believing he could be normal. He hated how Rook was standing there, probably looking at him all concerned and wondering why his normally cocky and semi-reckless partner was acting like this.

His vision was going dark, he needed to breathe he needed to BREATHE-

He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately shoved whoever it was as hard as he could away. The sudden action caused him to start breathing again, faster than usual but at least he was breathing. He blinked a couple times, his chest heaving and he realized he shoved Rook. He hadn’t expected the reaction and fell onto a glass casing, which was now broken. If he hadn’t had his protoarmor, if he had landed wrong-

The Knights took this opportunity to grab both him and Rook, using some strange device they had found to open up what looked to be a large steel box, and locked them inside. Ben scrambled to get to the door before it shut but to no avail. He was stuck here, he was too scared to do anything so now both him AND Rook were getting kidnapped and Ben didn’t know if he could do that again. He definitely couldn’t let Rook go through that. He should’ve done something, anything. His nails scraped the metal of the floor as his breathing quickened, his chest getting tight and his eyes burning.

“Ben? What is going on, what is wrong..?”

He tensed, shoulders going stiff as he watched Rook cautiously make his way over to where Ben was sitting. He was trying desperately not to make that stupid gasping noise you do when you hold back a sob. He couldn’t even respond to him, he couldn’t say anything because it was all happening over again.

He noticed Rook’s expression, it wasn’t fear like Ben’s was, it was confusion, and concern. Like he dreaded. It caused a pain in his chest, because he just wanted to be normal with him. He didn’t want Rook to have to see this ugly side of him. Before he knew it, he choked on a sob and then all the tears started to flow out of him like a river. He tried to bury his head between his knees, keeping his face out of sight. Rook would know why he had those perma-eyebags now. He would know everything and all his normal would be gone. Rook would hate him for lying, for pretending he could be just like how people saw him. The hero, Ben 10 who was brave and cocky and never backed down.

“...Ben, may I touch you? I do not want to scare you like last time.”

He lifted his head up a bit to respond, but no words came out. It was like they were all stuck in his throat, turning to air as soon as they were about to be spoken. He looked at Rook again, thinking about it. He nodded very slowly, lowering his head again. He wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t.

Rook wrapped an arm around him, making Ben hold his breath for a second, but starting to breathe again shortly after. The touch was distracting him, making him focus on something else. Rook rested his head on Ben’s shoulder. His hair was soft, he could feel some of it. Slowly but surely he got used to his hold, his tense shoulders relaxing. His breathing was mostly normal except for the occasional hiccup, and he was still crying. He didn’t want to be different, he didn’t want their friendship to change. He just wanted to be his best friend, his normal alien fighting best friend.

“Are you feeling better?” Rook asked, barely a whisper. Ben nodded, faster this time. He did feel better than earlier, at least a little bit. Rook seemed content with this information, humming.

And then, Rook started to purr.

Ben barely noticed at first, it was so soft. But gradually it got stronger, and Ben’s eyes went wide. He didn’t know Rook could purr, he knew he was cat-like but this was full-on cat behavior. He looked at Rook, who looked at him back.

“Cat purrs provide many health benefits… one of which is to lower stress. Mine may not be exactly the same, but I thought it could help until you wish to talk.”

It did, it did help a lot. He still felt a nagging dread but it was easier to manage now. It wasn’t all consuming and trying to destroy him from the inside out anymore. He swallowed, opening his mouth to respond.

“...Thanks, partner…” his voice was scratchy from crying, and he could barely talk above a whisper. He was close enough to Rook where he didn’t have to, however. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself more.

“Of course,” he said gently, sickeningly sweet and it did something to Ben that he really didn’t want to unpack now. “Does this count on our tally of me saving you?” Rook asked, lightheartedly.

Ben let out a short, raspy laugh, “you wish, Blonko.” He felt the other’s purr get slightly stronger at him saying his chosen name, and he smiled a bit. This was a good distraction.

They stayed like that for a while, probably 20 or so minutes before Rook spoke up again.

“Do you wish to talk about it now?”

Ben hesitated, it was… a lot to talk about. Especially while he was here in this… containment cell…? He wasn’t sure. He eventually nodded his head, deciding it was better to just get it over with.

“When I was young, like- a couple weeks after I had gotten the omnitrix… I busted it. I got turned into Grey Matter and couldn’t turn back. This… guy found me and kidnapped me, and for a while it was just some villain of the week type shit… until it wasn’t.” he paused for a second, taking a breath. “Grandpa Max and Gwen didn’t find me in time, I got sent to this castle-type place, run by the Forever Knights… they don’t like aliens. They uhm…” his breath hitched a bit, recounting what had happened, “they did a lot of… experimenting. I was there for a month before I escaped…”

He took a deep breath, finishing his recount of events. He didn’t tell Rook everything, but he didn’t need to, he got the gist. He didn’t need Rook to know about the dissections, the lobotomy thing, any of the details.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know. You were the first person I got close to who didn’t, and I really liked being normal friends with you. I didn’t want that to change because of my dumb issues…”

Rook squeezed him a bit, gently, “your issues are not ‘dumb’, nor will they change the way I view you. You are still my friend, and my partner.” he said simply.

Ben felt his eyes well up a bit, but grinned and wiped them away. He said it like it was obvious, and it had been. It had been obvious, Ben could just be a little dense. That was okay though, it was all okay right now.

“Thanks dude,” Ben said, lightly punching Rook’s chest affectionately, “wanna get out of here? I think these Knights are about to get a visit from my good friend Way Big.” he grinned widely, nerves still all shaken up, but he could deal with it now.

Rook smiled, “I thought you would never ask.”

[masschase]

that doodle you posted got me curious so now i wanna know a little headcanon about Matt and Shaundi

Ohhhh this started out as a little hc and became the "why Shaundi doesn't like Matt" masterlist(probably still some stuff missing) so I can only apologise 😅

Shaundi just... doesn't much like Matt. But she has a lot of good reasons! Every time she starts to get over one thing he does something else to piss her off! Some of these are major, others are more just like... those little things that keep a grudge going when you already dislike someone?

SR3: -All the small shit like the hacked bank accounts and antagonising them and anything else he did as part of the Syndicate -Playing a part in Johnny's "death" -The whole helicopter incident -Generally being fucking annoying

SRIV (5 year gap): -Had to be the main liason with him and Asha just two years after all of that shit -Found him occasionally too critical of what the Saints were doing in government, even if she sometimes knew he had a point. -Still pretty cocky at this time

SRIV(on the ship): -Survived when Oleg and particularly Viola didn't. This is a big one. Why him and why not them? -Got rescued before her (she's just not as vocal about it as Ben) -Doesn't shut up about Nyte Blayde -Terrible taste in music in her opinion

Post SRIV/Gat Out Of Hell: -His behaviour when left in charge; his unease about the situation made him more unbearable than usual, as seen when they are having trivia night -Having to share a wall with him (takes a while for Asha to teach him to quiet the fuck down, and when it's just him it's therefore worse) -The fact that while she doesn't quite know what went down between him and Asha re: them ending things, she knows Asha, who she's now very close to, was upset by him.

Fanfic altered timeline: -Can't help but notice Casey gets emotionally hurt by Matt on several occasions. -Stole her girl haha. This is partially a joke, but she does take some issue with the thing between 2016 Casey and 2022 Matt. Not because she's not over her by then; that pretty much came with getting to know her better and sobering up. 😬 But Casey's comments about things "just happening" with Matt are kind of grating when the whole thing with her and Casey was that neither of them admitted their feelings and the only way they would have got together would be if it "just happened"... which it didn't. -Just him and Casey being generally vomit-worthy once again and once again -Having to share a wall with THEM.

So yeah, they can joke with each other a little but the guy will not stop rubbing her up the wrong way. She tries not to get in the way of he and Casey's relationship once it's official because she doesn't like to admit it but she's really happy to see her friend make that leap.

I love them both but I feel like she only really finds him tolerable when they all move into the new planet and they're not stuck on a ship together 24/7.

Actually that applies to a lot of the less content relationships between some of the Saints.

[lauren-no-why]

OC Asks for Dale -

3) What song describes your OC?

7) If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

Oh yes good good my delightful terrible Dale who I adore. So OC he doesn't even have a canon face (I mean look, Stevin doesn't count since he's the face of Cobb Avery really, and Miguel doesn't really count either that was just a band cameo but good on them for at least putting him as frontman instead of Ben, that was a great choice).

Also thanks for copying the questions here so I don't have to go track that post down again.

3. I really need to get a more intentional playlist for Dale going, that would be fun. There are a few songs I've heard where I go "oh that's Dale" and then I don't save them and then I have regrets. But very consistently, this one makes me think of him:

It has that Phantom Riders-esque heavy bass and even references the end of the world, but meanwhile has that way too cocky, way too horny frontman energy. Perfect Dale song.

7. Holy shit I have never thought of this and I love it. Hm. Is Bard way too obvious? I mean. Bard. Bard/Fighter if you have to but bards can already do everything on their own just fine.

8. So music is again the obvious major one, right. Evidently the dude is brilliant with lyrics and songwriting and I love that for him, so much creativity. He also is way too much of a womanizer, Johnnie wishes he got laid as much as his brother does. This is not a positive trait lmfao BUT YEAH I GUESS THAT'S A HOBBY? New girl every day? Or new boy? Sure. Other than that, take your pick - illegal motorcycle races down the freeways, going to see other musicians performing, sometimes he gets suckered into pickup basketball games at the little court down the street.

22. Dude is a fighter. I think anyone who isn't gets weeded out of the World Enders before they even get the chance to join. He's confident and confrontational and well-suited to his leadership role in the gang. Just because he knows how to delegate doesn't mean he won't personally stab you if you deserve it.

26. Dale... and flowers... oh man. Okay. Well, something weedy that thrives in a concrete environment despite the odds.

I'm kind of feeling California Poppy here. Thrives in disturbed areas, once it's there you can't ever seem to get rid of it, just as happy out in the desert as it is growing in the cracks between the street and the driveway. Honestly this could also work for Johnnie. Those two boys have lots in common though.

From inat user kjancku

[courtesons]

Sometimes days and situations don't end up how you think they will, which is how Ben found himself in this position. Kissing someone he barely knew, some cute and cocky little shit who was definitely more than he seemed at first glance. Ben's hand had gone exploring under the covers and was about to rely to that cheeky little comment, when his hands felt the large cock under the covers. Well, shit. This handsome guy might be short but clearly all that height went elsewhere. Flicking his tongue over the spot the other had just nipped at his lip.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm going to be the bitch here, you little brat?" He murmured as he gave that cock a good squeeze and light slap.

@courtesons

Gif

"Getting handsy there, Ben?" Jason's cheeky voice spoke up. A grin against Ben's lips as the two continued to kiss. Jason's arm was wrapped around Ben's shoulders as Ben's hand slowly slipped beneath the blankets. And Jason's large and impressive cock laid waiting to be touched underneath. "Going to be a good little bitch for me?" He purred as the son of Hyperion nipped at the other man's bottom lip.

[kizzer]

You're Fucking Pathetic | The Umbrella Academy x Reader FF

A/N: I know this is not a Spellotape part 3 but I just got done watching season 3 of the umbrella academy and i am FUMING.

warnings: MAJOR TUA SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3, cursing, manipulation, incest

part 2 | part 3 (coming soon)

 You had just returned from your life in the 60’s. It's been about a week and between Kugelblitz and Allison going rogue over the loss of her husband and child, you can’t handle anymore stress. Luther has been missing for days and so has Klaus. Diego has a kid and his “girlfriend” Lila is back as well. Everything was moving so fast. Too fast. You walked up to the Sparrow academy doors and knocked. Luther has been missing for a few days and because everyone is neck deep in their own shit they haven’t even gone to look. As soon as you are about to knock again the doors open up to reveal: Luther…in a Sparrow Academy uniform?

“Luther? What the hell are you wearing?” you asked.

Before he could answer “Ben” walked up to the door. “I mean, was he ever an umbrella?” he says, putting his hand on Luther’s shoulder. 

“Is that how you feel, Luther? Huh?” you say before you hear a car pull up. You turn around to find Allison getting out of the passenger seat and walking to the trunk. “Allison?” you say but she ignores you and lifts the trunk up to reveal Harlan’s pale, dead body all curled up. Allison killed him. Your heart broke for Viktor and for Harlan. That was his son and you couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he found out. “You killed Harlan?! Allison answer me!” She doesn’t answer and instead walks in with the rest of the Sparrow Academy. You follow Luther to go find Allison and when you guys do you both start questioning her.

“Did you tell him?” Luther asks.

“Who, Viktor? Not yet.” Allison says.

“Man, He is not gonna take this well.” you say sighing heavily

“I did what had to be done.”

“I'm just saying. Should’ve been a family decision.”

“And which family is that, Brutus?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Nice uniform by the way. You look like an unpopped zit.” Allison says blowing cigarette smoke in your face. 

“Should we find you someone to talk to?”

“I'm fine. You’re the one having the identity crisis.”

“Oh, really? is “fine” what you call what you did to me at the hotel?”

“Whoa. What happened at the hotel?” You ask looking in between the two. “Someone answer me now!” You scream. Before anyone could answer Sloane comes in telling you all that Ben has called a family meeting.

“Both families. Do you think you could get your people to work together?” She asks.

Luther laughs, “Oh, you were serious.”

“I'm in.” Allison says as she shoves past you to the door.

“Y/n?”

“Not a chance. Not until everyone gets here.” You say walking into the living room. 

Everyone arrives at the Sparrow mansion. Except for Viktor. 

“Where is Viktor, Allison? Wasn’t he supposed to be with you?” you ask her.

“I left him at the diner.” She says before taking a puff of her cigarette.

“Un-fucking-believable. You are an honest to God asshole.” you say before Ben and Fei walk in.

“Welcome. Please make yourselves at home.” Fei says as she and Ben enter the room.

“Bitch this is our home.” Allison retorts. 

“Excuse me?” Fei says.

“Nothing. She didn’t mean it.” You say trying to stop an argument. 

“Where the hell is Klaus?” Diego asks.

“I don't know and to be honest I care just enough to worry but not enough to look.” You say, sighing deeply before closing your eyes.

“With our luck, probably Kugelblitze by now.” Five says which make you laugh a little.

“You’re a dark little dude sometimes.” Diego says.

“We don’t have time for idle chit chat. Everyone, sit down.” Ben says. 

It was so annoying and awkward to be there. You hated it. This was giving you flashbacks of your feelings towards everyone when you guys were younger. Them locking Viktor away in that basement. The first world apocalypse that you sometimes hate Viktor for but Blame Luther for. You can’t stand the Sparrows either. They are cocky and arrogant. They have no family unity. No love and only empty loyalty. Ben is an asshole and seeing his face makes you miss your Ben. it makes your heart ache and you can barely look him in his eyes half the time. He thinks you like him because of that. 

Ew..

“I feel like I'm sweating. Am I sweating?” Luther whispers to you and you reassure him that he is fine before he takes a seat by Sloane.

Ben starts the meeting. “Look, I know there’s been bad blood between us. Whatever. Bygones, right?” 

You scoff, “Whatever? Yall almost killed us. So no. Not whatever.” 

“Y/n. Shut your mouth.” Allison says.

You glare at her, “I am not talking to you Allison. So shut the fuck up.” 

Diego raises his hand and Ben asks him what he wants. 

“If I kill you, will we get our Ben back? Hypothetically.” he says with a smile.

it made you and Fei laugh. Ben? Not so much lmao.

“Keep talking, and your hand won’t be the only thing bleeding.”

“Okay, if the testosterone twins are done, i’d like to get back to a plan.” you and five say at the same time. 

“Where is he?” Viktor says walking into the middle of the room. You felt so bad you couldn’t even look at him.

“Viktor…” You say, soft and low.

“What did you do to Harlan?” He says turning to Ben. 

“They didn’t do anything. I did. I killed Harlan.” Allison says. 

“What? i..i don’t understand.” Viktor says, voice shaking. “Why?”

“Because he didn’t deserve to live.” Allison said. 

“What? Because they said so? You don’t have to listen to them.” 

“20 bucks on the little one.” Ben whispers to you and Five.

“Shut up ya bone head.” You say but Five takes him up on his offer.

“They don’t get to tell us what to do.” Viktor continues. “You coulda talked to me. We could’ve figured out something else.”

“So, what, you could lie to us again and take his side?” 

 “That’s not what happened.” 

“Oh, no, that’s exactly what happened.” Allison says.

“I know Harlan killed all of our mothers.” Allison continues.

“What?” 

“Whoa.” 

“Who told you that?”

“Harlan. After you lied about it to my face.” 

“Is that true, Viktor?” Diego asked, “Harlan started all this?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. He--”

“How do you know?” Five asked.

“Because he knew him. He was a harmless kid who was abused by his father. He wasn’t like us until Viktor saved his life at the lake. You guys know this. That was Viktors kid at some point.” You speak up, looking between Allison and Five. 

“I screwed him up. And if you need anyone to blame I'm right here.” Viktor says, looking at Allison.

“What makes you think I don't?” 

“This wasn’t about saving the world…” Viktor starts.

“This was about you hurting Viktor?” You say looking at Allison.

“Payback for--” Viktor starts.

“For what? Go on. Say her name.” Allison says, standing up and getting all in Viktors face. You sit closer to the edge of your seat just in case you need to whoop Allison's ass. 

“Did killing Harlan bring Claire back?”

“Did protecting him bring Sissy back?”

“It was just as personal for you.”

“I didn't kill anyone!” Viktor yelled.

“But you risked everyone! Do you know what that felt like? Watching you fight harder to protect the man who helped destroy my daughter than you ever did to bring her back?” 

“I don't know how to bring Claire back. Okay? No one does. But I was there for you. I tried.” Viktor said.

“To do what?” Allison said, “Help me grieve? God, this whole family is so quick to tell me to suck up my pain and so worried about fixing yours!” 

“Allison, choose your next words carefully.” You say, feeling your anger rising. 

“Somebody had to pay because you never seem to.”

“Destroy the world, kill pogo, almost kill me,and for what? So we can all run around and clean up your mess?” Allison says, “I'm sick of it.”

“Take it easy Allison.” Five says.

“Okay, i--”

“Shut your mouth!” Allison yells, rumouring Viktors mouth closed. 

Viktor starts to struggle for breath and you start to stand but five holds your hand tightly. Tears start to swell in your eyes because only you know how Victor feels about the past. How even after all these years he still blames himself for everything and how deeply he hates himself. 

“Every time I build a new life for myself, You end the world and take it from me!” Allison yells in Viktors face. 

“All right, that’s it. Knock off the power shit, Allison.” Allison lets Viktor go and you rush to his side, patting his back and glaring at Allison. 

“We should’ve left you in the basement.” Allison whispers to Viktor but you heard her and you turned around and slapped her. Hard.

“Viktor, go find a place to lay down. I'll be behind you soon.” You tell Viktor, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Y/n….don’t. it’s fine--”

“Go.” You tell him. It's been awhile since you have been feeling this way and it’s about time you get it off your chest. He looks at you a little longer before walking away. 

“Are you alright?” Five asks Allison.

“Is she alright? Are you seriously asking HER right now?” you scream.

“Y/n..i was just asking.” Five starts.

“You know” You chuckle, “i don’t give a shit! Okay, Allison? Claire isn’t here! She was never going to be here! You wanna know why? Because this isn’t our home!”

“Harlan didn’t help destroy Claire. She never should’ve existed anyway. You never should have had your life anyway.” You got closer to her face. 

“All your life you manipulated your way to happiness. Rumoring your sister so she forgot she was one of us, rumoring the press so you could feel better about yourself,rumoring your husband into loving you, rumoring Claire.” Next thing everyone knew she pushed you and you powered up your electricity. The sky turned dark and the ground started shaking. Everyone was screaming at you to calm down but you drowned them out. Your adrenaline was running high and Allison's face was pissing you off.

“Y/n calm down!” Luther screams at you.

“You are pathetic! You put everything on Viktor but if we hadn’t locked him up for most of his fucking life not once but TWICE, then maybe he wouldn’t have fucking exploded!” You scream tears flowing down your face.

“You have no right to blame anything on Viktor. You lost your family the moment you used your power to get everything in your worthless life.” You took a deep breath and looked at her in her eyes, “You rumored him to forget his identity every day of his life…Even when he wanted space you tried to rumor him into going home with you when he obviously didn’t want to. So what, he sliced your throat? You let your lover sibling Luther lock him in that hell hole.” You scoff and walk away.

“Honestly Allison. Grieve your husband and daughter in your own way but leave Viktor the fuck alone before I seriously fuck you up. You are embarrassing yourself.

[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Thank you, readers!

THANK YOU ALL for the awesome (and sometimes hilarious) comments, reblogs and likes for Centerfold!!! You guys make writing so fun 🥰😁 Putting comments/responses below the cut 😊

@sarcasmqueen74 - (Who made the WONDERFUL header for Centerfold)

My pleasure! Thanks for asking me and I LOVE the fic! Smokin' hot 🔥🔥 🥵

So much more fun posting a fic with your amazing edits to help bring it to life! Thank you, my friend! 🥰❤️

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior 

Holy Shit!! I need a copy of this centerfold so badly!! This was hot af!! I love how she was like, "Yeah, I'll have a chat with him." and then almost immediately was like, "N'ah, I'm gonna fuck him!" Lol!! Cause who amongst us wouldn't do exactly that?! 🥵🥵🥵

This was awesome!! Love the detail given to the shoot and the character of Giada - made everything feel realistic and really heightened my need to buy and devour this fictional copy of Playgirl!!

Thank you, Linda! I WISH we could get a real copy of the fictional Playgirl, can you imagine?? The Ackleconda in full view.... 🤤🤤🤤

@tristanrosspada-ackles 

Um wow just um yeah wow..... so hot 🔥

Thank you for reading!! 🥰

@dorky-and-i-know-it 

Hell yes I would jump at that chance as well.

This is amazing Riz!!

Thank you, my friend! ❤️😊

@sometimes-i-sing 

That was simply chefs kiss

Thank you! 😘

@deandoesthingstome 

Riz!

This is so great! I love the way you captured Ben's cocky little attitude. There are so many GREAT one-liners that I could ab-so-fucking-lutely picture him saying in a situation like this.

And you're gonna see a lot more of me.

And

Well, princess, perk me up.

And

Let's see if it'll fit.

(If it'll fit???!!!??? Kill me.)

And he was 100% a Playgirl centerfold. No doubt about it! I love this setup that allows him to be less of an asshole than we all know he is, even if sweet is never gonna be his demeanor.

Brava, Riz.

Charlie!! ❤️❤️❤️ I laughed so hard at “ (If it'll fit???!!!??? Kill me.) “ Thank you so much!

@evansrogerskitten 

The premise of this is just perfect. 👏  So smart and hot

Thank you, Ash!! 🥰❤️

@siospins2 

So smoking hot!!  ‘73 was a fine year indeed!

If it gave us a full frontal, naked Soldier Boy, it would be the BEST year! 😁

@kazsrm67 

😊Thank you for reading!! ❤️

@kickingitwithkirk 

😘Thank you for reading!❤️

@cosicas-cuquis

❤️❤️❤️Thank you!

@akshi8278 

That was...🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥.

😂Thank you, sweetie!🥰

[wvffles]

i'm glad you're feeling better!💙🫂 i'm doin alright, this definitely brightened up my day though <3 :) this was so fun to read, i lovee these little insights into your characters <33 kinda makes me feel like i'm watching a 'behind the scenes' :p 💞

also i'm really glad (and slightly relieved) you like/don’t mind these silly questions, i worry i bombard/bother you too much sometimes i’m sorry :')💘 don’t get me wrong you're always so sweet and welcoming, but there's this pesky little voice in my head that tells me julie ya dejala en paz that won't go awayyy loll 😭

and thank you for all these delicious gifs omg i was swooooning 🫠

I completely agree with all your takes, they were so good !!💜

I think you're so right -- Dean Winchester from Smoke Eater, my firefighter AU, would get along really well with Beau Arlen in Take Me Home. Even though Beau had a conflict with a firefighter in that story (the reader's asshole ex-fiance), he wouldn't hold it against all firefighters. 😜

i did worry about this for a moment, but i know beau's heart is gold :p also i was thinking of all the dad advice beau could give him 🥺 (given how things ended off in the SE-verse, so far 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽 )

also unrelated sidenote, that gif of beau makes me wanna pinch his cheeks so bad he looks adorablee😭 gosh

Likewise, I think TMH Beau would also get along with Western/Cowboy Dean from The Honorable Choice and Outlander...for obvious reasons. Who doesn't wanna see a modern cowboy sheriff meet a true western cowboy? 🤠❤️

!!!!

Break Me Down version of Ben really only gets along with the reader (and his daughter) in that world. 😂

😭 he's so real for that

Also, I think Alec McDowell from Being Human would annoy the ever living shit out of BMD and LOY Ben the most lmfao. Alec's probably the only one who can match Ben's cockiness, considering he's a super soldier himself. How young and sarcastic and smart he is would just make him doubly grating for SB. 🤣💚

lmaoo the gifs you used alone have me giggling already 😂

I think Midnight Espresso Dean would get along the best with Russell Shaw from Every Second Counts. ME version of Dean is essentially "normal Dean" in his 40s with a Latina girlfriend.

agreed, i feel like they'd even have the cutest double date :p

as always, thank you for taking the time to give me such a lovely response alex !!💖:))

hiiii, it’s me again 😅💙 i hope your week is off to a good start lovely !!💗🫂 i have yet another random question, that i hope is fun :) it might be a little confusing, but here it is;

which versions of your jensen characters do you think would get along the most, and which ones do you think wouldn’t get along at all?

like for example, i’d like to think smoke eater-dean and take me home-beau would get along :)

meanwhile i’m not so sure break me down-ben would get along with against the wind-dean 🤔 (all the alpha macho man stuff maybe, one of them being a literal alpha loll)

if this is too strange or confusing please feel free to ignore lmao <3 have a wonderful rest of your day !!💕💕

Hey lovely, how are you? 💕 My week is off to a much better start than my weekend lol. And yay!! Omg I love your Qs. You always come up with good ones, and this one was no exception. 😉

Which versions of your Jensen characters do you think would get along the most, and which ones do you think wouldn’t get along at all?

Oh, interesting. 🤔 I'm going to separate my answers like this:

Cowboys & Law Enforcement:

I think you're so right -- Dean Winchester from Smoke Eater, my firefighter AU, would get along really well with Beau Arlen in Take Me Home. Even though Beau had a conflict with a firefighter in that story (the reader's asshole ex-fiance), he wouldn't hold it against all firefighters. 😜

Likewise, I think TMH Beau would also get along with Western/Cowboy Dean from The Honorable Choice and Outlander...for obvious reasons. Who doesn't wanna see a modern cowboy sheriff meet a true western cowboy? 🤠❤️

Soldier Boy:

He's his own category because...let's face it, he's prickly lmao.

Break Me Down version of Ben really only gets along with the reader (and his daughter) in that world. 😂 ...Well, maybe Frank and Loco too. But they're his subordinates, so it's a different dynamic.

However, Ben and Alpha Dean from Against the Wind would certainly butt heads, mostly because Ben is cocky as fuck and doesn't really care about making friends and being personable with people he thinks he's better than, unfortunately. The best the BMD reader can do is keep him civil with another "alpha" male, like Butcher or M.M. -- men he actually respects. 😅

BMD Ben might actually get along with Lost on You Ben, only because that version of SB has gone through a similar character growth. They would be able to find some common ground. And hell, BMD Ben would probably give LOY Ben some unsolicited parenting advice, especially where John is concerned. 😂

Also, I think Alec McDowell from Being Human would annoy the ever living shit out of BMD and LOY Ben the most lmfao. Alec's probably the only one who can match Ben's cockiness, considering he's a super soldier himself. How young and sarcastic and smart he is would just make him doubly grating for SB. 🤣💚

Total Bros:

As for who would get along the best...

I think Midnight Espresso Dean would get along the best with Russell Shaw from Every Second Counts. ME version of Dean is essentially "normal Dean" in his 40s with a Latina girlfriend.

Russell is around his same age, has done some shady shit, has "seen some stuff that would blow your hair back," drives a Chevy Malibu comparable to Dean's Chevy Impala, LOVES food and beer -- oh yeah, these guys would hang. 😂💜

[raythekiller]

could you write jeff, ben and toby with a reader who has npd but they’re their fav person?

🗒 ❛ He's S/O's Favorite Person ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby

#Notes: I don't have npd but I do have bpd, so this might be more from a bpd standpoint. sorry if having a fp while narcissistic is different, i genuinely don't know

pronouns used: none

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

His ideal type of relationship. He wants to be cherished, worshiped even, so this situation is perfect for him, even if a little painful for you due to him being negligent and absent. He will actually purposefully be those things just to test if you'll miss him, if you really care. After seeing how agitated you become when he's not around or even treating you badly, just how aggravated that makes you, his ego is through the roof. He'll start being nicer and giving you more attention, wanting you to need him more.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Another cocky bastard who'll want to test it out. He'll watch you through your computer screen, wanting to see if you really miss him that much, how badly you want him when he's not around. Unlike Jeff, who does it constantly, he'll only need to do it once to be fully satisfied, then moving on to giving you all the attention you might want. He likes feeling needed, so even if he likes being alone every now and then, he'll prioritize getting to spend more time with you instead.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

You're probably his favorite person as well. I mentioned a few times that I headcanon him as having BPD, so honestly, he's just as dependent of you as you are of him. He knows how being away from your FP can feel physically painful sometimes, and he never wants you to experience that, so he's constantly clinging to you. He's surprisingly thoughtful when it comes to other people's mental needs, having many disorders himself, so you don't need to worry about him being a little shit like the other two. He might actually suffocate you a bit with all the affection, given that his last favorite person was Lyra and we all know how that ended, so now he's extra clingy almost as if he's scared you might disappear.

[michals]

That post reminded me I never actually posted this and it's one of those ‘kind of embarrassing I spent so much time on it but I’m posting it because I spent so much damn time on it’ things.

Klaus and Luther similarities/parallels

So the show doesn’t give us a ton of Luther and Klaus interaction but I think just them being the characters they are they’re really similar and have interesting parallels.

Of all the siblings I think it’s actually Luther and Klaus who are the most diametrically opposed in terms of their place in the Academy and their childhood. Obviously there’s the dynamic between Reggie explicitly calling Luther his favorite and Klaus his biggest disappointment, both of them had high expectations thrust upon them and one excelled and the other failed. But then again Luther was set up to excel and Klaus to fail. For all that Reggie wanted from Klaus he went about it in entirely the wrong way which only hurt Klaus’s abilities, and comparatively Luther’s powers are very straight forward so his training had to be mental in that he became exactly what Reggie wanted him to be.

Basically: Reggie’s abuse had opposite effects on them. Luther was brainwashed and isolated, Klaus was discarded and left to fend for himself. Luther loves/trusts his dad, Klaus hates him. Luther thinks they have a purpose and what they did was worthwhile, Klaus thinks it was all a big joke and meant nothing beyond Reggie’s little experiment. Luther’s at one end of the spectrum, Klaus the other, and everyone else falls somewhere in between.

How they show the effects of their abuse however, is actually more in sync. Klaus has a habit of either ignoring or talking around problems, acting like they’re not problems, or being flippant about them. Klaus acknowledges Reggie’s abuse but it’s usually in a jokey, casual manner, he usually moves on from talking about it quickly without getting too deep. He knows Reggie did a number on them but confronting it head on is difficult. And this is from a character who’s been in multiple rehab centers that obviously include some kind of therapy sessions.

Luther of course outright denies it until he’s faced with it in the worst way, and even then he can’t really get his head around it. One of the first things he did when landing in the 60s was to go to Reggie and expect him to welcome him, even though he doesn’t even know him. And then for all his talk in s2 about having moved on it reads like lip service, it sounds like he knows that’s what he should say, what he should feel, but it’s not entirely working. It’s like he’s just trying to dismiss it to the point where he will literally run away from the conversation. I still think the moment of him telling Sparrowverse Reggie that he’s happy they’re all home and together is a huge sign that he still thinks of Reggie as his dad no matter what.

Klaus and Luther either don’t know how to talk about their trauma or aren’t willing to. Whether it’s that Luther still doesn’t want to face up to it completely or that perhaps he does have the littlest bit of hope that actually Reggie did care and there was/is a chance he might care yet, or with Klaus trying to put the trauma on the backburner so he doesn’t have to relive it or process it in a way that means he won’t be able to drink it away or perhaps be forced to confront the powers that have caused him so much pain.

I also think they are genuinely sensitive. Not in the same way the others are, but empathetic and gentle in ways they never got to explore as children. I think that emotional wounds go much deeper than they let on. They’re always on the cusp of reaching out but not only do they not like dealing with their problems, they were taught not to. If given the chance they’d probably be happy to play support for the others but that wasn’t Reggie’s goal. I can easily imagine Luther as the kind of leader who takes everyone’s plans and thoughts into account and makes sense of it from there, who’s better at dictating than just demanding. And I imagine Klaus would probably be capable of understanding and connecting to his ghosts in a way that helps both him and them if he had been given different training.

Next is how both of them have poor self esteem and what comes across as a passive view of self preservation. Klaus has a very conflicted view of his place within the Academy. Apparently he was regulated to being the ‘look out’ often and wasn’t as active as the others. Obviously this is because of his complicated relationship with his powers and how Reggie treated him within the group dynamic. If he didn’t think Klaus was important (because he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to) then he wasn’t important. Now, having embraced his place as the black sheep of the family, Klaus still doesn’t know where he fits in and often comes across as “useless” (in quotes cause obvs that’s not the whole story, just a simplification).

Just in general he sees himself as an outsider. For all that he’s flippant and casually cocky he’s not actually all that confident in what he’s capable of to the point of not even trying sometimes because he’s convinced he’ll fail. It’s a smokescreen. It goes hand in hand with him not confronting his feelings or trauma, easier to play like he’s confident than to deal with it.

Luther’s self esteem came entirely from his place in the Academy and his father’s opinion and what Reggie made him. Even then his confidence gets shaken all the time when someone doesn’t listen to him or when they argue with him. He too tries to cover this up, Klaus is glib Luther is bossy. Then there’s the whole gorilla body thing, which he is very obviously mortified by. (Side note: interesting contrast in Klaus being usually the least physically covered up sibling and Luther being the most.) He’s wildly ashamed and embarrassed by his appearance. (There’s a whole other point I could make about how Luther only willingly shows his body when he’s being exploited and pummeled – or high – but that’s another post.)

Then Luther’s whole foundation crumbles with the discovery of Reggie’s true nature. He doesn’t have much left after that and then he’s dropped into a foreign world with no one and no way of coping and then Reggie once again lets him down. What’s he do? Gets into a situation that mirrors his relationship with Reggie, lets himself be taken advantage of, does what he’s told to the point of physical harm - because he knows nothing else and the bet is he doesn’t think he deserves better. Then he spends all of season 2 saying that he messed up, he’s not a hero, he’s not a leader and that he has no place thinking highly of himself. Guy straight up doesn’t have any self esteem at this point.

(Klaus also doesn't see himself as a hero even though he was on a literal superhero team.)

And in terms of their sense of self preservation: Klaus obviously has very little regard for his own health and wellbeing. Even if he doesn’t throw himself in front of bullets he’s still drinking and doing drugs to an extreme degree, to the point where they’ve actually killed him. He knows it’s bad for him, he knows it’s dangerous but he doesn’t care. Even with Ben in his ear he continues. When he dies in s1 he’s relieved.

Speaking of throwing one’s self in front of a bullet: Luther does this 3 times that we see. This comes obviously from his protectiveness as a leader but there’s an undercurrent of other people surviving being more important than him getting hurt. And when Five comes to him to say the world’s ending again Luther says he doesn’t give a shit. The Luther from s1 was all about saving the day, s2 Luther is shrugging and saying ‘yeah well, so what?’ and when he does start to care it’s mostly because he’s looking out for Five.

(Sidenote: I realize that my headcanon that Luther is becoming an alcoholic and has an unhealthy relationship with drugs is probably me reading into things but were the show to go in that direction: that they both would find comfort or an escape through substances would be another thing to tie them together and explore how their traumas affected them and what they do to deal with/avoid dealing with them. They’ve become pessimistic about the prospect of answers or catharsis so they look for escape instead.)

(Also also pointing out that the two times Luther was the most candid about his trauma was when he was drunk/high and one of those times was with Klaus – who for the first time in probably a long time, or ever, got to be the shoulder someone cried on. And what a great thematic idea that it’d be the two of them that’d be the most honest and open with each other eventually.)

Bonus item: Luther and Klaus have both died outside of their apocalypse related deaths (pretty sure Allison never actually died in s1 but was close) and in ways that none of the others were there for. Neither of them have talked about it. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to seem weaker than they already are, maybe it’s more of that ‘let’s not talk about trauma, let’s just get drunk’ mentality, or maybe it’s because they don’t think anyone would care. None of the others have really talked to Luther about the accident or the aftermath, none of them have approached Klaus’s addictions as an actual problem. Whatever reason why it would probably do them a world of good to find out they have that in common in the same way it would be good for Luther and Five to talk about their isolation.

They really seem like they should be very different characters in all respects and they really are in a lot of ways but there’s also this laundry list of ways they mirror each other or are similar and I hope the show takes advantage of that.

[mrsalwayswrite]

These Hands Were Made For You (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ because its amazing!

This is my first time writing Wild Bill. Lemme know what y’all think!

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, palming (is that a warning?)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday​ @sydney-m​ @saritanotserena​

  As soon as you stepped into the barn-converted-to-mess-hall in Albourne, you knew what was coming. 

 "There she is, fuckin' goddess of war herself! Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin' this morning?" 

 You just chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated smug look. "Yeah, Bill. Something like that."

 Guarnere winked at you and you could not figure out how it was possible for such a simple action to be so dirty. The way he tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk followed by a quick wink...you could feel heat pooling in your belly and your breath catch. 

 The cocky grin on his face grew as he saw the hint of pink on your cheeks. He knew what that wink did to you and he LOVED using it against you. 

 Bastard. 

 "Something you need, Y/L/N?" Martin asked from the table closest to the door.  

 "Yeah, any of you seen Lip?"

 Luz answered from the table, cigarette dangling from between his lips. "Think he went back to the house to grab something. Why?"

 You waved Luz off as you could see him start to stand, stepping further into the barn. "Just need to ask him something. Winters is in a meeting otherwise I'd ask him."

 "Why don't you take a seat, he should be back soon."

 "Perfect spot saved right here for the Valkyrie of Easy!" Bill announced, patting the open spot on the bench next to him. 

 You rolled your eyes but relented, moving past the other table to drop next to Guarnere. On his other side sat Heffron, still looking a bit wide-eyed and nervous that he somehow won the coveted spot with the Toccoa men. Toye sat across, giving you a brief nod when you sat down. Perconte, Christianson, Skinny, and Grant also took up residence around the table. Perco seemed to have been in the middle of telling some overly, exaggerated story. 

 Most of Easy relaxed in the barn. The Toccoa men were grateful for the break from the front-line and hot food instead of K rations. All the replacements were eager for the next jump, ready to soil their ODs, not truly understanding that war would only take from them, never give. The division between Toccoa men and replacements was painfully obvious. 

 Heffron leaned around Guarnere to meet your eyes. "Hey, sorry again about the fellas yesterday. They've been like that since training."

 "Not your fault, Babe." You shrugged, running a hand through your hair. 

 "What's he talkin' about?" Guarnere narrowed his eyes at you. Even Toye across the table was staring at you in concern. 

 "Nothing, Bill. It's fine."

 "If you're sayin' its fine then it ain't fuckin' fine." He growled. When he realized you were not going to elaborate, he turned on Babe. "What the fuck happened?"

 The redheaded replacement looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world in that moment than being interrogated by Wild Bill. "Some of the men were...ah, tryin' to...um… proposition her." He finished with a wince. 

 A long beat of silence.

 Then Guarnere exploded. 

 He pounded the table with a tight fist, the table shaking at the impact.  A snarl on his lips, he started to rise from his seat, eyeing the tables further away full of replacements. "Who the fuck was it? Someone from our platoon? Imma fuckin' kill 'em. Who was it?"

 "No," you cut in, grabbing his arm and restraining him, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up into a frenzy, "some replacements from third."

 He growled but let you pull him back down. "Goddamn replacements. They touch you?"

 "No, Bill. I handled it."

 Toye spoke up, eyeing his friend carefully as if to see if he was going to have to prevent a replacement's murder or help hide the body. "What you do?"

 You smirked, squeezing Guarnere's arm for good measure then pulled your hand back into your lap. "Told them if they tried to pull that shit again, I'd rip their cocks off and mail them to their mothers."

 All the men at the table either winced or shifted uncomfortably at the mental image. 

 "Hey, don't you be touchin' no one's cocks." Bill said, fury still on his face but also amusement. 

 You raised an eyebrow, "what would you rather I have done? Swung at them? Give Sink a reason to send me packing?"

 "Nah, you swing at 'em, they might fall in love." He winked at you again, telling you he knew exactly what he was talking about. Underneath the table, hidden from view, his knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. You attempted to hide the shiver that caused but knew you failed when Guarnere chuckled quietly.

 "Why would that matter?" Babe asked innocently. 

 "Oh, here we go." Toye sighed. 

 "Shut up Joe, the kid asked alright." Guarnere started his story, pleased to have a new, rapt audience. "So here we are, back in Toccoa, right? Most of us have already arrived and started trainin' with goddamn Sobel. Then one day this beautiful broad shows up and we're told she's joinin' the paratroopers. None of us believe it. Why would a broad be joinin'? Don't make no fuckin' sense. So the next day we're supposed to be startin' to learn self-defense and guess who I get paired up with? Huh? Lovely Y/L/N over here. Right, so I'm fuckin' pissed cause I don't wanna be fightin' no broad but Sobel is watchin' like a hawk. I tell her I'll pretend to swing at her and she should just fall down. Play fightin', ya know? Like when youse a kid. I take a swing at her, thinkin' she knew the plan. She easily dodges my swing and before I can right myself, she lands a punch on me. Knocked me flat on my ass and seein' stars. I look up to see this goddess standin' over me, bloody knuckles and all, and she says 'you better get up and fight me like a man before I knock you on your ass again'."

 "So, what you do?" Heffron asked, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

 Guarnere tapped the table with his finger. "What did I do? Well, I got up and told her that when this war is over, I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, that's what I was gonna do."

 Those who had heard the story before chuckled while Heffron sat there, head tilted and eyes bouncing between you and Guarnere like he was waiting for the punchline still. 

 "Why? No offense, Y/L/N." 

 Guarnere threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Cause she hits harder than any fella I've ever known, includin' me brother Henry. Boxin' champion that one was. Now if that ain't a reason to marry someone, I don't know what is."

 "And she puts up with your bullshit." Toye deadpanned. 

 You rolled your eyes, sliding out from underneath Guarnere's arm. "That's just words unless there's a ring and I don't plan on marrying for a while yet. Still gotta win a war first." You stood up, smoothing down your ODs. "'Sides, maybe by then I'll find someone who doesn't annoy me so much."

 "Nah, you'd miss my handsome face too much."

 "You keep telling yourself that, Bill."

 "One day you'll come around." He winked, making your insides warm. You would never understand how that was possible. The Philadelphian pointed a finger at you. "You lemme know if any of those replacements bother you again. Can't have those bastards propositionin' my future wife."

 "See you later, boys." You said, not even bothering to answer him. You headed towards the door, intent on finding Lipton; but also to get away from the man who gave you such feels without even saying a word. Then when he did speak, complimenting and claiming you in front of the others…. it was becoming harder and harder to keep your hands and your lips to yourself. 

 ***** 

 You leaned against the doorframe, admiring the man who was too caught up in writing a letter home to have noticed you yet. He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about his words. The chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning forward against the wooden desk to continue writing. The small bedroom only consisted of the desk, chair and bed. Guarnere's duffle bag was thrown in a corner with things haphazardly pulled out. The NCOs had been billeted in a house together, everyone able to have their own rooms unlike the enlisted men who were forced to share a converted barn.

 When you had first met him, and your first real encounter resulted in you punching him, you had thought he was the most unhelpful, condescending, little shit; and you had no problems telling him that for weeks after. When he had bounced back to his feet and proposed...you had laughed so uncontrollably, it had taken a sharp bark from Lipton to get you to focus again. 

 Over the following weeks, the bastard would openly flirt with you and practically pummel anyone else who tried to. Sometime around Fort Benning, your own feelings toward him started to change. No longer was he a man you loathed. You found yourself happy he was in your platoon, that he hovered around you keeping assholes from other companies away, that you enjoyed his flirting and when you two were alone... you reciprocated. 

 Actually, the first time you flirted back, he almost choked on his tongue he was so surprised. After that, things shifted between you two. 

 He continued openly flirting but understood you could not since you were under far more scrutiny and Sobel was looking for ANY reason to get rid of you. 

 For two years Guarnere had been in your life...and you hoped for the rest of it too. 

 "Enjoyin' the view, sweetheart?"

 You smiled at him as he leaned back in the chair, legs still under the desk. "Should I be?"

 He scoffed. "You know you like what you see...I'll tell you though," his eyes raked over you, "you're a fuckin' goddess with a body to drive a man crazy."

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to minimize the sound, as he winked at you before turning back to his letter. 

 "The other NCOs said you were going out tonight for drinks."

 "Yeah, yeah. Told 'em if I didn't finish this letter for my ma, she'd jump on a boat and come find me. Got three letters from her already. Last one she threatened to come find me. So, I told the fellas I'd meet them there."

 The muffled sounds of the other NCOs drifted up the stairs; they were gathered in the common room getting ready to head out. With that in mind, you moved silently across the room to where he sat at the chair. Coming up behind him, you dragged your hands over his broad shoulders then down his firm chest, stilled his motions. 

 "Y/N…"

 You loved touching him, could not get enough of it when you were able to. What you also loved doing was paying him back for teasing you. 

 One of your hands continued to travel downward until you palmed his cock. He froze, pencil hovering just about his letter. Without a word, you slowly, torturously, stroked him over his trousers. 

 "Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned, tipping his head back slightly. 

 "You said earlier I wasn't supposed to be touching anyone's cocks...does that include yours?"

 Turning his head, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye but before he could speak, you took the tip of his earlobe between your teeth. 

 "Hands on the desk, Sergeant." You growled in his ear. 

 Immediately, his hands slammed on the wooden desk, palms down. The pencil fell to the floor. Letter now forgotten on the desk. 

 "Mmm, yes, sir… you keep them there." You continued slowly stroking his cock over his trousers. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to kiss you earlier when we were at the mess hall." You licked up the curve of his ear, feeling him shudder under your touch. Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze as you continued whispering in his ear. "Think I should punish you for teasing me earlier? That wink you gave me...all the dirty images it put in my head. Want me to tell you about them?"

 "Fuck, sweetheart, yes."

 "I thought about you bending me over one of those tables. Notice how they are at the perfect height? How good you would feel inside me. How deep you would be."

 One of his hands started to move off the table, drifting towards where your hand played with him. 

 You nipped his earlobe sharply, making him hiss. "Hands up, Sergeant, or no reward later."

 "You're gonna kill me, darlin'." His hand slammed back on the desk. 

 You licked a line up his neck before pressing your lips against his ear again. The pace of your hand increased, his chest rising and falling to match. "Remember that time in Mackall where we snuck into the parachute packing building and fucked on the silks. You couldn't wait to get inside of me and almost tore my new ODs. So I made you wait and watch as I started touching myself. After someone came in and we almost got caught."

 His hips were now rutting against your hand, the chair shaking with his movements.  His hands were in white-knuckled fists on the desks, trembling with his desire to get them on you. 

 Unable to help yourself, you grabbed his face with your free hand, turning it to press a bruising, messy kiss to his lips. He greedily took ownership of your mouth and deepened the kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, reminding you how his mouth and skillful tongue alone could drive you wild. 

 Finally you broke away, pressing your forehead against his temple as you attempted to refill your lungs with the oxygen he had stolen. "God, I wish I could kiss you out there. Let everyone know I am yours. Maybe share quarters with you instead of sneaking around like teenagers. Fuck whenever we want."

 "I'd be the luckiest, fuckin' bastard in all of Easy. You're mine. My goddess."

 "There is one thing I need right now. I need the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch above me. I need my man inside me." You squeezed your hand, making him tip his head back and loudly groan. "Now the other NCOs are just downstairs. Think you can keep quiet?"

 He pressed a hard and fast kiss to your lips. "Oh darlin', it ain't me whose gonna have to keep from screamin'."

 "Mmm, think you can help me out?"

 "I'd do anythin' for ya…." He turned in his seat, hands now stroking your waist with a completely wicked and sinful smirk on his face. "Go lock the door."

 You stepped back, admiring the disheveled look on Guarnere, how his eyes blazed with passion and desire. For you. Without tearing your gaze from his, you shut the door and locked it behind you. 

 "Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

 "Only for you. Come on, Sergeant, show me how good you are with your...arsenal."

 Before you could move, he leapt out of his chair, making it clatter on the floor as it tipped over in his enthusiasm. He picked you up easily and tossed you on the bed. You laughed only to be immediately silenced by his mouth slamming against yours, a moan drawn from you as his talented fingers rid you of your clothing with an almost inhuman speed. 

 *****

 Later that night Guarnere was quite late for getting to the pub but he did not mind one bit. Especially since his bed now smelled like you…. And he had been able to remind you how much he loved you. 

 Quite vigorously.