#christmas truce 2022

[kinglazrus]

The Dying Star, Chapter One

Truce fic for @lexiepiper. It's 6:30 a.m. and I stayed up all night rewriting this chapter a dozen times because I wasn't satisfied, but here it is! Will be posted to Ao3 later when I am not sleep-deprived.

Links to be added | Next | AO3

Word count: 1875

Living in a place like Amity Park, you get used to echoes. Things like to linger here. The old movie posters that sometimes show up at the Multiplex. Children's laughter resounding from a rusted jungle gym. A whiff of smoke at an empty lot where a building burnt down five years ago.

Amity Park has always been haunted; it just wasn't always by ghosts.

No one knows why. Maybe the Fentons have a theory, but Valerie has never asked. She came close to it once after her mother passed. She spent days wandering Amity Park, going to all the places they spent time together, searching for remnants. She found plenty, yet none that belonged to her mother. But in her hours of seeking, she made a discovery.

There are voids. Places that swallow things up and, rather than a cascade of emotions, feel like nothing at all. Casper High is one of those places. Too much has happened here, Valerie thinks, for any one thing to linger. It's most apparent when you're alone and even the sound of your breathing is eaten up by the void, leaving you with silence.

Valerie knows this well. Just as she knows that she is not alone right now.

She walks at a firm pace, steady enough to keep a marching band in time, which makes it obvious when she misses a beat and the person following her does not. She pauses, holding her foot in the air a second longer than necessary, and a step echoes when it should have been quiet.

It takes considerable effort for her not to react. She keeps her attention forward, placing one foot in front of the other. An echo on its own is harmless, even one that's a real, tangible thing. As long as she doesn't provoke it, and it doesn't do anything to her, she's fine with it following her.

Focusing on the task at hand, she tells herself. If only she can remember what that is.

The lights are off, and the school is empty. She has the glow of the emergency exit signs, which stick down from the ceiling every twenty feet or so, to see by. The pools of light don't quite touch, leaving a stretch of shadow no more than a few paces long between them. As Valerie passes beneath the next sign, she glances up at it. The arrow at the bottom points straight ahead, but there is no exit in sight. Not only that, but she can't see any classroom doors, nor did she see any on her way here. On either side of her, the row of lockers continues unbroken. The same stretch of hallway repeating into eternity.

Something is deeply wrong. A part of Valerie knows this, but any time she tries to bring the thought to the front of her mind and acknowledge it, it slips away against her will, leaving her with a niggling sense of worry. She clenches her hands, needing some way to work through her tension without alerting her echo, and falters when she feels something against her palm.

Opening her hand, she finds a patch. She must have been holding it the whole time, but she didn't feel it until now. What hope discovering it might have brought is quickly dashed when she realizes the patch has no detail. A plain embroidered edge and empty middle. Some bits of thread stick out the back, along with a scrap of the fabric it was originally sewn to. When she rubs her thumb over it, she feels stray threads brushing against her finger despite not being able to see them.

Valerie looks down the hall again. It goes on and on, lockers and exit signs merging into a pinprick of red light in the distance.

She was searching for something. Is searching for something.

Only now, as she comes to that realization, does she notice the second set of footsteps hasn't stopped. They're coming from behind her, faster than she had been walking, and getting faster still. She doesn't have time to dawdle.

Valerie shoves the patch in her pocket and takes off running. The shadows stretch ahead of her. What should have been a few steps turns into miles as the red light pulls away. She passes lockers at a crawl while the approaching steps get louder and faster. The noise thunders in her ears until it's all she can hear. Closer and closer, louder and louder. They're almost upon her when she gives into temptation and whips around, looking back for the first time, but there's nothing to see.

Beneath the thunder, something whispers in her ear.

"Valerie!"

—

She wakes up to a warm hand on her forehead. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know it's her father running his hand over her hair. Valerie leans into the touch, humming with relief.

"Valerie?" Damon's hand pauses, but he starts again when she whines. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." The temptation to go back to sleep is strong. Normally, a quick nap is all it takes for Valerie to feel re-energized. She has learned to live off stolen minutes between school and work and ghost hunting, but this time feels different. Not just because of the dream that's already fading from her mind, but because of the pounding in her head and the warmth throughout her body. If hadn't already been lying down, she would have slumped over.

As it is, she melts into her father's side. Even if she's already feverish, the comfort his presence brings outweighs any unwanted heat.

"Sweetie, you have to sit up," Damon says.

"Do I gotta?"

"Just for a couple minutes."

She grumbles as she complies, letting Damon sit her upright. The shift in elevation makes her head pound even more, and it only gets worse when she opens her eyes. She closes them again immediately.

"Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open," a new voice says.

Valerie doesn't want to, but her curiosity wins out, and she finds herself looking at a middle-aged woman in a white coat.

"Very good," the woman says. "Now look straight ahead."

A light flashes in Valerie eye, making her wince. The woman hums and does it again with the other eye, then does... other things. Valerie doesn't really know. She feels hands on her head, and hears the woman and her dad talking, but it floats over her. She is sinking down into an ocean of half-formed thoughts and doesn't mind drowning there.

"Valerie." Damon jostles her, yanking her back to the surface.

"Hm?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" the woman asks. A doctor, Valerie realizes. She's a doctor.

"Uh, Mr. Lancer let us go early..." Valerie tries to dig for more, but capturing a solid memory is like catching rain on her open hands. Each drop offers a brief sensation. The buzz of her ghost hunting suit. A flash of pristine white. The feel of a rough hand in hers. She knows she could get more if she cupped her hands and pressed them together, but her fingers are too numb to move.

"Is this the concussion?" Damon asks.

"Possibly. We'll get her scanned to make sure there's nothing wrong internally, but there could be other causes for her symptoms. The ghost we detained was particularly strong. It's known for causing trouble, and with the kinds of powers it has, we don't know what its ectoplasm could have done to her."

Funny. Valerie didn't know doctors could ghost hunt. Except the Fentons are doctors and they ghost hunt. They aren't the same kind of doctor, though, are they? She wonders if that matters.

"As soon as we're done with the preliminary samples, we'll know how to proceed. As it is, we have two options ahead of us."

"Which are?"

"If the samples come back negative, we transfer her to South Mercy, and with any luck she's back home by the weekend."

"And if it's positive?"

"In that case, we'd—" A buzz interrupts the doctor. "You'll find out right away."

"What do you—"

A door slams open. Valerie jumps, her eyes flying open, although she doesn't remember closing them in the first place. Four men in hazmat suits stride into the room. Damon leaps from Valerie's side, standing between her and the men.

"What's going on?" he demands.

"Sir, you have to come with use. We need to make sure you haven't been exposed." As the men stride forward, the doctor backs away. Two of the men grab Damon and pull him back.

"Daddy!" Valerie shouts. Her own voice pierces her brain like an icepick.

"Stay calm," one of the remaining men says. "Don't panic."

Valerie panics. She leaps off the cot she had been sitting on and charges toward her dad, or tries to. The room tilts around her and she careens into the fourth man. His arms close around her. Someone holds a mask to her face. Valerie tries to fight it off, but she can't. She gasps and sucks in a lungful of the gas. Her head grows fuzzy. Spots fill her vision. In no time at all, Valerie finds herself slipping back out of the waves, and this time her dad isn't there to pull her back up.

—

He waits until the little ghost hunter and her father are gone before pulling off his hood. He casts the hood aside. The rest of the hazmat suit follows, discarded onto the patient bed beside him. "I hate these things. They're so hard to breathe in."

"Well. That was theatrical," the doctor remarks. "You sure you didn't overdo it? She was really panicking."

"I doubt she'll remember. This was more for her father than anything."

"If you say so." The doctor looks him up and down, a smirk appearing on her lips. "Careful, you almost look rumpled."

He follows her gaze to his lapel, which had somehow folded over in the chaos. He tries to smooth it out, but a crease cuts across it, ruining the natural fold. It's tolerable, if a little annoying. He smooths out the rest of his suit, checking for any stains or smudges. White clothes are great when dealing with ectoplasm, which is a natural bleaching agent, but there are so many other things that can ruin it. It's unfortunate, especially for someone like him who always wants to look his best.

The doctor stands and stretches, popping her back. "I should be there when she wakes up."

"Agreed. I'll talk to Mr. Gray." They part outside the examination room, heading in opposite directions. The doctor will have plenty of time to examine the patient while she's unconscious. He's almost jealous. Sometimes, he wishes he stuck to the more scientific side of things rather than going for field work. Less people to deal with. More time in the lab.

Not that he doesn't enjoy his job.

He doesn't go far, knocking on the door to another examination room a little ways down the hall. Damon Gray looks up at his entrance, the perfect picture of a distraught father.

He sits down opposite the man and begins. "Mr. Gray, I'm Operative S. I'm afraid we need to talk about your daughter."

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - rewrite (part 2/2)

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warning: Explicit.

PREVIOUS PART ✨

14th February 2022 - 26 Weeks Pregnant. 

“Push it in, Ben!” 

“There’s nothing to push - It’s in all the way!” 

“Seriously, Miller?!”

“You wanna do it?!” Benny huffed, holding out the extendable paint roller in hand as he tried to force the two pieces of the black shaft of the plastic pole together. 

“Stop pushing it so hard! You’re gonna break -” A harsh crack of plastic giving way sounded as Ben’s frustration crescendoed. “-It.” 

A sigh escaped you at the expense of the man who would be the father of your child as he threw the two pieces of the roller to the ground in frustration, ranting under his breath about it being a piece of crap. 

Neither one of you spoke for a moment, both still processing the loss of the specialist equipment that would allow you to reach the ridiculously high ceilings in your new bedroom. 

“Well… that was clearly your fault.” Benny snarked only half serious, as he leant back against the wall with a sigh and took a swig of his Yoohoo in defeat.  

The usual cooling beer was nowhere to be seen as alcohol was strictly off of the menu for the Miller-Y/L/N household in an unexpected yet hugely appreciated show of support from Benjamin. 

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced the lines of his strong throat as he swallowed - after all, being considerate was sexy.

“In what fucking world was that my fault? - you’re the one that hulked it!” You scoffed. 

Benny advanced forward, a hand on his hip in faux annoyance, to where you lounged in a camping chair on the opposite side of the room, overseeing the painting operation. He snatched the untouched instructions from where they had been sandwiched between the arm of the chair and the side of your thigh. You tried not to focus on the clenching of your southern regions as his warm palm grazed the meat of your thigh. 

“Y/N! Seriously? Dude! It says goddamn twist!” Your brain scrambled for a defense but came up empty. 

How could you explain that your hormone addled brain had been too preoccupied appreciating the way his t-shirt strained against the muscle of his bicep as he tried to force the mismatched pieces together with sheer strength. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what size that man was buying but for the sake of your sanity you were this close to recommending he size-up. 

“Oh…” 

Benny simply shook his head with a snort and folded the thin instruction manual back up before he bopped your forehead with it. 

“I’ll see if Frankie has a ladder in his truck.” He turned on his heel with a grin to go find Catfish, who was no doubt painting or reassembling furniture in one of the rooms in your new home. 

It had been two months since the Christmas debacle and you were currently trying to find your sea legs in this unforgiving ocean that was your life. 

It was a delicate process, this co-parenting, but the two of you were nailing it.

Together you had decided to get a house near a good school that would become the neutral ground; the two of you were starting over for the sake of your daughter, so you’d agreed to go into this without any ugly preconceptions and all resentment put aside. 

Moving in together was a huge decision that had taken weeks to reach.

Every step of the way you had been terrified that at any moment Benny would turn heel and flee, though his resolve remained strong, in fact he was the one who had suggested it. 

I know! 

Mr I’m-not-looking-for-anything-serious-right-now, suggested you move and play house.

Well not quite, as the two of you had yet to discuss that side of your friendship. 

There was a ceasefire in action; a mutually beneficial truce that was admittedly fractured, neither one of you was brave enough to test the bounds and risk destroying the delicate ecosystem that had been created in the suburbs. This little girl was all that mattered.

The two of you had fallen back into step of your old friendship, only with significantly more longing looks, lingering touches and awkward silences… but sure, for the most part, totally nailing it.  

Who were you kidding? 

You were longing for his touch, every time he stroked your stomach and sang to his daughter, every time he drank a can of coke instead of a beer you were positively quaking with desire. 

Your hormones didn’t help but they couldn’t be entirely blamed. 

It felt like your life was coming together, like you could be a real family in this house. 

Hell, you could get rid of the other of the bedroom and have a nursery and wake up every morning to Benny peppering your neck with kisses as he breached your walls with slow sleepy morning sex. 

Benny was getting his shit together. He was almost unrecognizable as the man who had let you down nearly three months ago. 

He had accepted a job at the gym as a personal trainer - part-time, of course - which meant he had a steadier income to supplement his fights. 

Benny had become … consistent. 

He answered his phone when you needed him, he was less prone to flying off of the handle and he hadn’t run away from you in a 7/11 car park in like three whole months.

Hell, he had even started attending some sessions down at the VA with Will! Honestly - Fatherhood suited him. It was like the responsibility had given him something he’d been missing since returning home.

You also hadn’t been able to help noticing a deficit in women, perhaps it was naive to assume when you’d only lived together for the better part of an afternoon that you knew his business. Maybe it was blind hope, but the two of you had moments. 

Fleeting ones, but moments nonetheless!

Ones where he’d laugh a little harder at your joke than it really deserved or his hugs that lingered far too long when he’d leave your apartment - you swore he smelled your hair once.

You felt like the two of you were building to something, that you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, a real future for the three of you. 

Apparently by planning out the next ten years of yours and Ben’s life together you had tempted fate.

Your attention was drawn quite innocently to his phone which was nestled in the mesh cup holder of your camping chair for safekeeping whilst he painted. 

You’d swear in a court of law that you only glanced at the screen because you thought it was your own, however the message that flashed on the screen snuffed out the light in your daydreams.

‘JASMINE: Are we still on for later? ’

Oh. 

Huh.

Okay.

You weren’t sure of the myriad of emotions that powered through you in quick succession. 

Hurt, jealousy, anger; those were the easiest to pick out.

Logically, you had no claim to the man, you’d agreed to co-parent, nothing more. But the betrayal of the life that could’ve been was hard to stomach.

Unable to stop and not entirely sure it was your hormones at fault, your throat clenched and your eyes began watering. 

It was stupid, to be so broken up over what was essentially eye contact and accidental touches but, there it was. 

When Benny rounded the corner carrying a ladder to find your streaming eyes he unceremoniously laid it against the wall and fell to his knees before you.

“Darlin’ you thinking about the life insurance advert again?” one hand cradled your jaw whilst the other entwined your fingers with his as you fought every urge to pull away. “You know they’re just actors.” 

Just a few moments ago attention like this would’ve killed you dead, but now, it didn’t mean anything; he was your friend. 

He cared for you and your daughter, that’s all it was. 

You had talked the talk, now it was time to walk the walk. 

You’d be the best goddamn mother this kid could ask for and that would be enough, it had to be.

16th March 2022 -  31 weeks pregnant

Three months.

Three months of being treated like an invalid.

You weren’t allowed to lift anything deemed too heavy, you weren’t allowed to workout and god forbid you tried to put together some of the furniture for the nursery alone - hell, you were barely allowed to go to work. 

At Val’s misplaced insistence you’d been transferred to desk duty.

You may be thinking, gee, but Y/N what exactly does a school nurse on desk duty do? 

Well, she sits on her newly fat ass all day and logs every record of every menial accident to happen in this miserable place since 1965. 

Yup, that’s every single scraped knee or nose bleed in the past sixty years. 

You weren’t even half way through the 80’s after three whole weeks of this hell. 

The doctor had recommended taking it easy but you didn’t know if you had another two months like this left in you. 

Not to mention the Godforsaken hormones. 

They had been wreaking havoc ever since your second trimester, but somehow as the months progressed, they had doubled down as an apparent non-stop ache had taken up permanent residence between your thighs.

This kid was slowly killing you.

The ever present resentment flared as Val returned with your lemonade instead of an icy beer, though you accepted with thanks as the two of you relaxed on your new porch swing in your back garden. 

The sun had begun to set as the boys were up wing using the fancy new BBQ grill; a generous house-warming gift from the now absent Santiago.

The trio chuckled loudly at a remark you couldn’t quite catch from Catfish. Departing Will had made a retort as he came to join the two of you, a bowl of barbecued corn in hand as a peace offering. 

You’re somehow annoyed at Benny’s thoughtful anticipation of your never ending hunger. Logic was an old friend these days, hell, he was a penpal at this point.

All the same you took the corn with a grateful smile, taking a large bite of the buttery goodness as Ironhead sat with a groan as he made himself comfortable in the folding camp chair to your right.

“So, how’s motherhood treating ya?” Will questioned with a deep chuckle at the filthy look you threw his way. 

“It fuckin’ sucks” You huffed inbetween bites of corn.

“Preach that shit.” Val joked as she raised her glass in toast.

“I’m hungry all the time, everything’s swollen and beer! - I miss beer so much. I have a headache every other day and Will - I’m so sorry, but everything turns me on.” Will - to his credit merely snorted into his beer at your embarrassing monologue. “Val, I swear, I saw Frankie licking his fingers after chips earlier and I almost jumped him.” 

Val cackled at your confession. “Oh hon, you’re at the halfway point - a light breeze angled the right way will do that to you!”

“I can do something about one of those things… The food Y/N. The food.” Will held the bowl of corn up in surrender, looking terrified for a moment when your head had perked up at the implication. 

“What about Benny? Surely he’d be willing to… help you?” Val waggled her eyebrows, completely avoiding eye contact with Will as she conspired about his brothers sex life. 

You paused your nibbling on the near bare husk and placed it in the bowl Will currently gripped in defense of his virtue. 

He took a swig of his beer pretending to not be interested in your conversation, though you knew full well that man was the biggest gossip you knew, he was as eager for an update as Val. 

“Well, I asked him for some… relief but someone thinks that will open up a can of worms.” You grouch, your voice raised an octave or two into a distinctively whiney pitch as you imitate the father of your child. Will, in his defense, did attempt to hide his smirk though there was definitely some pride mixed in at the mention of his brother’s restraint. You take a swig of your lemonade before continuing. “He doesn’t think we should smash just because of my hormones… might regret it after or some shit.”  

“… how can I possibly resist when she calls it ‘smashing’?” Benny questioned his own voice laced with sarcasm, as he joined the new trio with Catfish and baby Catfish on his heels both carrying plates of delicious food. 

“It’s beyond me.” Val chuckled in an attempt to diffuse, before she turned her gaze towards her child who was head of burger bun distribution. “One for your tia, please baby.”

Mariana grabbed you a plate and began preparing you a burger, dousing it in what you’d consider a confusing combo of far too little cheese and way too much ketchup, but you were eternally ravenous and not above eating it. 

“Mmmh… best burger maker ever! Thank you, beautiful.” You groan to the little girl as she grins proudly to her Dad who has joined you and Val on the swing. 

As she goes about her business filling both of her uncles plates you can’t help the pang of jealousy that fills your heart as you catch the couple in your peripheral.

Frankie had his arm wrapped around Val’s shoulder as she nestled her face into his neck. 

“Te extrañé, Cariño” She whispers, kissing him sweetly. 

Frankie chuckles at her words and takes her hand in his much larger one before placing a kiss on the back of it. He doesn’t relinquish his hold as everyone begins talking once again.It was simply a sweet interaction between a married couple, you can’t quite put a finger on why it makes your heart ache.

Your eyes caught Benny’s. His grin widened as you locked eyes before he noticed the pinch of flesh between your brows. 

The silent conversation began as Ben squinted in question before you managed to school your features and nod his way to let him know you’re fine. 

He isn’t sold, you can tell that from the glances he threw your way for the ten minutes that followed. 

That message from the elusive Jasmine, still weighing heavy on your heart almost a month later.

There were days, like the one where you propositioned him that you’re happy to look past it, where the life you would build together would outlast anything, but then there are days when you hate him for it.

The ones where you didn’t trust him or yourself. 

You’d said goodbye to logic long ago - Emotion reigned here and she could be a cruel bitch when she wanted to be. 

20th April 2022 - 36 weeks 

“Step… step.. now to the left-”

“Oof!” You grunted as your nose met something that felt suspiciously like drywall.

“Your other left, sweetie.” Val corrected kindly, you couldn’t be sure as the blindfold currently compromised your vision but the distinct lilt that usually accompanied a smile filled her voice. 

Grunting you followed her instruction as her palm gripped yours, leading you another three paces.

If you were a betting woman you’d place good money that you were in Will’s house. The pleasant albeit overpowering scent of Teakwood and Tobacco made bile rise in the back of your throat, as it had done ever since the tiny squatter had taken up residence in your womb. 

“Right there, perfect… take it off!” Val instructed as she released your hand.

Hesitantly your own fingers rose, not quite sure what to expect - ‘A surprise’ was a broad construct after all. 

Unfortunately, you were pretty sure you knew what the surprise was - a puppy. 

Benny had been uncharacteristically absent all week and when he’d returned one afternoon after an ‘errand’, he’d shown you an instagram of a golden retriever named Bill, gushing over its cuteness. 

Whilst you could surely appreciate the cuteness, the question of what the hell were a couple with a new baby on the way were supposed to do with a godforsaken puppy weighed heavy on your mind. 

Though, when Val told you of your surprise you had simply resigned yourself to burn that bridge when you got to it.

Finally, you granted your eyes freedom and what was before them made them well of their own accord. 

In the place of a golden retriever puppy was every single person you loved in this world, stood before you with party hats and grins. 

“Surprise!” They cheered in unison. 

Benny stood in the middle of the crowd smiling, you had unconsciously searched him out before you began your scan of the lounge in Will’s home. The entirety of the bottom floor of Ironheads house had been outfitted in puce pink banners and balloons. ‘It’s a girl’ and ‘you go mama’ were the core slogans imprinted on the decorations.

The huge Y/F cake sat in the center of the buffet platter, though not to be outdone, the plates on the platter were filled with every last one of your cravings from the past eight months.  About 20 McDonald’s Double Cheeseburgers, peaches, corn, pickles, oreos and cookies - so many different varieties of cookies - you name it, it was there. 

Finally your breaking point came when your eyes caught your Mother and Father on the iPad. 

They had been facetimed from Y/H/T. 

Despite being unable to make it, Benny had made sure that they were included, of course he had. 

The pièce de résistance however, was the man currently holding the iPad up. 

Santiago Garcia; you hadn’t expected to see your flighty best friend until long after your baby was here.

It was all too much, the hormones, the lack of sleep, the thoughtfulness of the father of your child. 

You crumbled into tears and ugly tears at that. 

Thickly, they streamed down your cheeks. You looked up through the wall of hot salt water to find Benny in front of you cradling your jaw, he had gotten to you before even Val who had been at your side. 

“Oh, Babe… I’m sorry, is this not right?” Benny rambles, his nerves getting the better of him. His eyes are frantic as they beg for your forgiveness. “I’m still not completely sure what a baby shower is… we can redo it next-” 

You shut him up with a hug, one of those all encompassing ones which fix everything without words. All of the appreciation and unspoken feelings you had for the man went into this. 

Noone had ever done anything remotely close to this for you before.

Every inch of this party was perfect, because every aspect spoke about the details of your life he’d taken in and memorized. 

At that thought the tears somehow got worse. You were blubbering into his cream jumper, the one you had bought him for his birthday, that alone fueled the wail the left your chest. 

After a moment or two he pulled back, wiping under your eyes with napkins Catfish had discreetly shoved into his hand behind your back. 

“Good tears?”

With a nod and a snotty sniff you confirm. “Good tears.”

Finally you calm down enough for Benny to take your hand in his and refuse to relinquish his hold on it as you greet everyone. Your friends from work, Mr and Mrs Miller, of course - the Morales family and Santi.

Finally dropping his hold on you Ben watches as you embrace your best friend.

“Gordita! You’re sooo big now!” He laughed lifting you from the ground,  you didn’t need to see to know Ben would be cringing in fear for both you and your child. 

“Excuse me, la narizota?” You huffed once he had placed you back on the ground. His answering chuckle thundered throughout the room as he cradled his nose with narrowed eyes.

“It’s not that big.”

“Sure, and I’m not fat…” You smirk, looking down at your protruding belly and raising your eyebrows.

“La puta.” His eyes are narrowed and his voice low but it lacks any real venom.

“I missed you, Hermano.” The two of you embrace once more and even though Santi doesn’t say the words, the kiss on your forehead tells you all you need to know. 

“You’re gonna be a mama!” His voice is cheery as he pulls away before wrapping Ben in his own crushing hug.“And you Benjamin! You’re gonna be a papa!” 

The two men part with a manly pat on the back and Ben is back at your side wrapping a protective arm around your lower back. You lean into his hold, comforted by his familiar cologne and warm jumper. 

“What’s the little lady’s name gonna be?”

“We’re not telling.” Ben says quickly.

“It’s a surprise!” You say at the same time. “Some people are opinionated, and we want the name to be our choice.”

“Really?!” You hear from behind.

Seated on the couch Will leans an arm over the back of the sofa, twisting his torso to defend himself. “Just because I didn’t like the name Daisy?” Jen shoved his shoulder with narrowed eyes before he continued. “What?! It sounded like a damn cow…”

Wait… Jen? Jen was back? … holy shit she was brave returning after what had to be the awkwardest night of your life thus far.  Had you really been that self obsessed for the past four months that you hadn’t realized Will had reignited that old flame? 

You felt a spark of guilt, yet your respect for the woman overcame that as you apologized profusely for the whole awkward affair, with the promise that you’d give her a signal if anything was to break out tonight.

Jen had taken this in good humor and congratulated you on the baby, she had then forced Will to surrender their place on the sofa so that you could sit beside Mrs Miller comfortably with the 7 pound watermelon permanently strapped to your midsection. 

You liked her.

You hadn’t realized that your mother and Ben’s were currently deep in conversation, something about staying at their house when she came up for the birth, there was some vague planning about thanksgiving occurring that you weren’t privy to - though you were sure you’d get looped in eventually, or at least you hoped you would. 

Benny’s mother was a gorgeous woman.

Though you’d expected nothing less, after all both her sons looked like they were created in a lab.  Her boys took after her in their coloring and her sharp features, in her youth you had no doubt she would’ve intimidated you despite her kind nature.

Grinning, she turned to you, before she raised her glasses from the gold string around her neck. She expertly flipped the camera after a moment or two on the iPad to show you off to your mother.

“Look Y/M/N, she’s absolutely glowing!” Mrs Miller complimented. You smile awkwardly, it has never been your strong suit taking praise, well from anyone but Benny. 

And that was a whole different kettle of fish, as the things that degenerate of a man praised you for were much more fun, but objectively not things one should be considering in the company of his mother. 

“Thank you.” You settle for instead.

You speak to the duo for a while, talking about the nursery, baby clothes and the bag you’ve packed for the hospital. That seemed enough to quell their need for information before the two of them begin gossiping.

These two women had yet to meet one another and yet, from what you’d heard, they were now thick as thieves. Phoning each other nearly every night, hell the two of them had become Facebook friends and you’re even pretty sure they meant to do it.   

Your eyes search the room for Benny as she resumes her conversation with your mother, and find his wide shoulders deep in conversation with Will and Jen. 

You’re tempted to thank the woman for birthing an adonis of a son, as she chit-chats to your mother. 

God, you’d love to rip that cable-knit jumper off of him and lick every muscle on that lean body.  

Embarrassingly your eyes must have been burning a hole through his spine as he turns for a moment to lock eyes with your own. 

You hold him in your gaze before he winks, the sonofabitch winks at you and turns back, chuckling at something one of them said.

You can’t quite come to terms with the fact your core is aching from that tiny non-interaction. 

The sex flashbacks had definitely gotten worse since you entered your third trimester. Your hormones were all over the place and it was only made so much worse as masturbation had become near impossible as maneuvering around the massive bump anchored to your front was a logistic challenge.

You had propositioned Benny more times than you could count, but somewhere along the road to fatherhood he had gained a moral fucking compass. 

He didn’t want to just have sex to have sex, he wanted it to mean something.

As neither one of you were willing to risk confessing to more than friendship, you had reached an impasse, where nobody was getting any. 

Well, You didn’t think he was getting any, atleast.

Bothered by this thought you went to stand. Went, being the operative word. 

Much like a ladybird stuck on its back you struggled to get adequate footing to propel yourself forward. 

A large tanned hand stretched out to offer you support, one you took gratefully. From above William Snr was smiling, a plate full of cake in one hand for his wife. 

“Thank you, the melon under my shirt makes things difficult.“

He chuckled at your words, reminding you so much of Benny. “She’s half Miller. It’s in her blood to be difficult.

“You’re preaching to the choir here.” You hold your hands up in surrender smiling at the man before you.

He took your seat as you turned to seek out Ben, only to find him coming towards you with two slices of cake.

He tilted his head towards the back door, where the two of you now found yourself on the porch swing, the only smidgen of privacy you’d received since arriving at the party nearly 2 hours ago. 

“How’s the day going?”

“Amazing, Ben. Thank you.” You take a bite of cake and can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Unfortunately, you don’t see the way his eyes darken at the sound and the reminders it brings him - if you had, you’d have no doubt economized on that weakness.

“I wasn’t sure a baby shower was your thing and with the no drinking I wasn’t-” You’re not used to Benny being apprehensive. Well that’s not true, those few weeks that followed the break-up had been filled with it. Rather, you’re not used to Benny being insecure in himself, he was a fighter, all that bravado and confidence came hand in hand. It was breaking your heart to see it gone. 

So, you threw all caution to the wind. You said fuck it and gambled on yourself for once in your life.

Swallowing the cake in your mouth, you leaned forward, taking his jaw in your fingers, effectively shutting up his dithering monologue and joined your lips.

He breathed out heavily through his nose in shock at your sudden movement. 

At the lack of reciprocation you began to pull away, only to be followed as he dropped his cake to the seat next to him to grab your jaw. His thumb anchored by your ear as his mouth devoured your own. 

It was six month of pent up emotions breaking through that wall of denial. His tongue slid against yours tasting vaguely of vanilla and something that was distinctly Benny. Your own tongue joined the dance, fighting for dominance before you retreated and playfully bit his lip, gaining a groan from the father of your child.

The two of you pulled apart though your foreheads remained touching, both catching your breath. Neither one of you is sure of what to say to the other. 

Finally, you go to speak, however you’re swiftly cut off by his phone and the tinkering bells of Sencha. 

“Ignore it.” He whispers, closing his eyes and catching his breath. You rub your nose against his own which makes him smile.

As you go to join your lips, once again, you are cut off. 

He huffs pulling back. “Someone better be fucking dying.”

He reaches into his back pocket for his phone and looks at the name, with a sigh before he leans forward joining your lips in one final solid kiss. 

“It’s work…I’ll be right back, don’t move, okay?” You nod in agreement, mostly because you want more kisses.

As you run your fingers across your slightly inflamed lips you wish you didn’t hear the words that made the world around you crumble.

“Hey Jaz… Yeah sure, no… I guess I can talk… I’m… not that busy…”

28th April 2022 - 37 weeks pregnant

Life playing host to the parasite that was soon to be your daughter had only gotten worse. Hard to believe, I know.

The gift that kept on giving made sure that you’d suddenly without any warning whatsoever have the overwhelming urge to vomit. 

There was no rhyme or reason to her neat new little party trick but at any given moment your stomach said nope and you bought up whatever you happened to have eaten or as the case may be; be eating at the time. 

Honestly, you weren’t a negative person by nature, but these agonizing eight months had taken it out of you. 

Hell, you were in the process of drafting an eviction notice if this kid didn’t get out of you in the next two weeks. 

Long story short, between this and the Benny situation you were not exactly the best of company, right now. 

The boys and Val had all learnt this early on and for the past eight days, you had given up all pretense of a brave face, now you were bleeding and letting everyone who would listen know about it.

When Santiago, who had decided to stay in town until the birth of your baby, suggested a stroll around the mall, you had fixed him with the stare that would have had a lesser man running back to Colombia with his tail between his legs. Until, of course, he had sweetened the deal with fried chicken, his treat and coincidentally the only meal that you had yet to regurgitate. 

So, here you found yourself with Santiago and William and a six piece bucket to yourself.

The change in company was a welcome distraction from dwelling on your non-existent love life at home with the love of your life. 

After the thorn in your side that was Jasmine, reared her ugly head at the baby shower, you had pulled back into your protective bubble of distant and cold. 

Benny, though confused about the message, received it loud and clear as he returned to the swing to find you inside and talking incredibly heatedly to Valerie. In the eight days that followed, he yet to confront you about it. Apparently old habits died hard.. 

The camaraderie that had come hand in hand with your truce had dissolved. You weren’t actively unpleasant, but you didn’t melt into his side, or nap on the couch with him anymore. 

You had established boundaries, resolving yourself to the simple philosophy of anything you wouldn’t do with Frankie, you wouldn’t do with Ben. 

It was simple… well kind of, every one of your moves was carefully calculated and exhausting.

For example, lying on the couch watching a movie with a leg rub? Acceptable. 

Frankie would do that for your swollen ankle joint, hell, he had done.

However, lying on the couch with his body sandwiched against yours as you fall asleep, the hardness of him pressed into your backside; well… that was quite clearly a no, but I digress! 

Boundaries were established and what almost was, had been completely and totally healthily avoided at all costs, creating the exact tenuous home environment you'd spent so long trying to avoid. 

So, here you found yourself in the food court, slamming some fried chicken trying desperately to forget your woes.

“She’s too clingy…” Santi huffed in between a bite of his burger, talking mostly to Will as you had yet to peak up from behind your bucket. 

“Maybe she just likes you and wants to spend time with you, god forbid someone shows interest.” You grunted irritably between bites, looking for a fight. 

Both men turned to you in surprise, the whites of their eyes visible as they feared your outburst. 

Santiago strategically paused as he searched for the right words before he began to speak again. 

“You’re right … Maybe I’m too harsh.” Pope placated as he fixed you with a look of reproach, however, that only served to enrage you further. 

He watched for your reaction as if you were an angry bear or a child throwing a tantrum. Truth be told, you weren’t strictly unlike either of those things at that precise moment. 

Your brows narrowed, ready to unload and tell him all the reasons he was a dick before a cramping pain in your bloated abdomen overwhelmed you. Your eyes clenched shut as you breathed heavily through your nose, your ringed fingers gripped at the circular table in pain. 

It was impossible for you to judge how long went by before the pain finally passed. 

You took a further second or two to even your breathing before you resumed eating, succinctly dropping the subject that had injected fire into your veins merely moments before. 

With a fry in your mouth, you glanced up to find both men watching you. 

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” They questioned in unison. 

A moment passed as you swallowed your mouthful before you concisely answered your comrades. “I’m pretty sure I’m going into labor.” 

“And … you don’t think we should be actively doing something about that?” Santiago pressed, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

“Labor can take hours and I won't be able to eat once it gets going…” You shrug, picking up another piece of chicken. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pope breathed, eyes wide before he palmed in his eye sockets in frustration, attempting to rub the stress you induced away.

Will had dragged his chair to your side, his eyes focused on his watch.

“Don’t worry so much… the book said until they're ten minutes apart … there’s no point going …  to the hospital!” You explain in between bites of greasy chicken. 

Your words do little to quell their panic as both men look as if they're ready to pull their hair out with worry. 

“I’ll ring Ben.” Santi groaned as he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket before fishing out his phone. He turned dramatically with a finger pointed in your general direction. “You get her to hurry up - I swear to god, Y/N. If you’re eating when I get back, pregnant or not, I’ll drag you to that car. You’re not having your baby in the damn food court… estúpida, obstinada…” The man continued grunting curses at your expenses as he stalked off for somewhere quiet with cell reception to call the father of your child.

The silence that extended all of three minutes was too good to be true as Will watched your face as you ate for any sign of distress. 

“Whilst giving Pope a coronary is always a good time… don’t you think we should go and get your bag and meet Ben?” Will’s voice was soft, the kind of soothing tone you’d seen him use to talk down shell shocked soldiers - it was both unassuming and laced with copious amounts of compassion. 

You’d be damned if it didn’t just piss you right off. 

With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the empty bone into the bucket with the rest of the carcasses and took a long sip of your drink. 

“I’m good here … I can meet you guys there if you like?”

The pinch in his brow was quite simply incredulous, his concern was quickly outweighing his patience. 

“If you think I’m leaving you both here, you’re insane.”

Chewing on the straw of your drink; your eyes locked with his. They were brimming with a concoction of confusion and concern, which if the clench in his jaw was anything to go by, was slowly morphing into exasperation at your lack of compliance. 

“I … just need some time.”

“Y/N. All you’ve spoken about for the past week is how you want this to be over, wish granted - she’s coming and she’s coming now.”

“That’s what he said…” You uttered half-heartedly under your breath as you broke eye contact, no longer able to face his look of bewilderment. 

On the red tray in front of you was a lemon scented wet wipe hidden among napkins and sauces, you tore open the former and gratuitously began scrubbing the grease off of your hands, actively ignoring the perplexed stare of one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N, we need to get moving… will you just stop and listen?” Will snapped finally as he grabbed the wipe from your grip as you passed over your digits for the third time. 

Your own patience had reached its end as his hand gripped your elbow, his intention to make good on Santiago’s threat and drag you out, clear and present in your mind.

The devil in question was making his way back to your table, all quick strides as he dodged the food courts clientele.

You wrenched your arm from his grip huffing in annoyance at the well meaning Miller. 

“Fine. Let's go and get my bag, maybe we can grab an iced tea on the way to the car…”

Will nodded but you knew the mother hen would never allow a diversion from the mission at hand. 

All was going well. 

You were compliant as you strode through the mall, both men flanking you like a high priority asset as you clambered into Santi’s rental truck.

Hell, you were goddamn amenable as you unlocked your front door and grabbed the hospital duffel bag from the cubby under the stairs. 

However, your cooperation waned somewhat when heading to the maternity ward as  the guys tried to wheel your chair past the hospital's Starbucks. 

Your palm, lightening fast, caught the break on the chair causing it to veer left right into Santiago’s shins.

“Ice Tea!”

“You’ve got a baby about to shoot out of your hoo-hah and you're stopping for tea?!” Santi huffed incredulously as he rubbed his shin.

“My contractions are 25 minutes apart, when they’re 15, I’ll consider joining the panicking cry baby club.” 

“Panicking baby- huh!” Santi huffed rubbing his forehead. “You are not well, Y/N/N! You’re having a baby - Go and have it and then I’ll bathe you in fucking tea!” 

“I’ll come back down and grab you one-” Will placated before Santi bent to remove the break on the chair, allowing Will to move all of two steps, before you slammed it back on, the rubber tyres screeched against the tile floor of the hospital lobby. 

“Tea. First.” You huffed much like a troublesome child. 

This time it was Will who leaned down to remove the break, having clearly decided you weren’t in your right mind.

So, you did the only thing you could; you threw your baby bag off of your lap. 

“Y/N, stop being a goddamn child!” Will huffed, you had clearly pushed him to the edge, not that it had been particularly hard. 

Ignoring him, you began to stand. They both watched on in horror as you slowly ambled your way to the end of the queue. 

Leaning against the drinks fridge, you sighed. 

Your spine was aching something awful. The poor timing of this kid resumed as a contraction wracked your body, sharper than the others, it felt longer but you had no way to be sure. 

Will was at your side the second it overcame your body.

“Twenty minutes apart, please, Y/N. Come on.”

When finally the pain dissipated, your aching back remained. You weren’t proud of the weight you were placing on Will but the floor was the only other option. 

“y/n?! … Y/N!” You heard Benny hollar before you saw him, his eyes were wild with panic as he rushed to your side. He patted his brother on the shoulder, before taking his place. “Baby, what are you doing? You need to get into bed.”

“I want… my … tea.” You huffed, breathing not yet evening out. 

“Fine, we get the tea and we go straight up. How far apart are they?”

“Twen-”

The gush of amniotic fluid leaving your body cut the older Miller off, soaking through your jeans and unfortunately onto Benny’s shoes.

“You just pissed, she just pissed!” Santi cried in disbelief, his hands an almost permanent fixture in his disheveled curls at this point. It was hard to believe this man was a pressure player.

“It's not piss, it's her waters. We need to go, I’m sorry baby, you can have all the ice tea you want when it's safe for you both.” He bent down and caught your sodden legs, picking you up in one sweep. 

If you weren’t currently covered in amniotic fluid, that story book firefighter carry would have set your loins ablaze. 

Who were you kidding? 

You were absolutely drenched in amniotic fluid and your loins were practically smoking. 

Between writhing in pain as your uterus contracted to eject a literal watermelon and lusting over your baby daddy who you had spent the last eight days practically snarling at every time he dared advance, the journey to your delivery suite had been all but a blur. 

Somehow all three men surrounded you, having coerced their way through the midwifery staff with their nefarious charm. 

“How ya’ doing champ?” Santi questioned as you huffed on the oxygen inhaler handed to you by your midwife. A thumbs up was all you could offer as you groaned through the contractions that were now give or take five minutes apart. 

“How about we use a bit of gravity?” The woman in control of the drugs questioned. A suggestion you were only more than happy to try.

Following her instructions and with minor assistance from Ben you were now on all fours, frantically inhaling the gas and air. 

“We’re going to need to clear the room, anyone who isn’t the father needs to leave.” 

You were so far gone, you didn’t care if they saw the business end of your cervix. All you knew was uncontrollable pain that wracked your body every five minutes like a sadistic egg timer. 

Ben wiped at your forehead with a damp towel as tears escaped. 

“You can do this, baby.”

“UGNGH.. It feels like I’m shitting a knife!” You cried as another contraction wracked your body. 

“Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll have our baby.”

“I’m not ready.” You cried burying your face in the reclined back of the bed. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are-”

“No. We’re not ready. Things were … supposed to be fixed… I promised her.”

“Wha-”

“ you stupid fucking idiot. I want to be with you; I have done for like ten years…  smitten with you from the second I heard your tone deaf ass singing that … crappy hick song on base. Ungh… And everything is so broken because I don’t want you … to just stay for the Bean, I want to be with you … because you want to be with me.” You cried, tears wracking your body as uncontrollably as the contractions.

“It’s all broken… I promised her and I fucked it all up. You … and Jaz can just live happily ever-” You cut yourself off with a low wail as another contraction wracked your body. It seemed to knock Benny out of his stupor as his hand rubbed your lower back.

It was a moment before you leveled out and remembered you were divulging your innermost thoughts but a moment ago, though you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

“I adore you, even if you are the goddamn most stubborn fuckin’ idiot I’ve ever met. You're the mother of my baby, yeah. It scares the crap outta me. Caring for you. Damn near spent three months thinking up all the reasons we couldn’t be together cause it scared me so bad.” He huffed, stroking your hair. He helped you reposition on your back, as you breathed in another wave of oxygen. “I- I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships … because this feeling in my stomach when I think of you is fuckin awful. Sure I get the tingles when you smile at me or stroke my arm. But ninety-nine percent of the time, fucking nightmare, I worry if you’re happy, if you’ve eaten and now we’re adding an whole ass entire other person into this fucking clown show.”

“Gee… thanks.” You huffed in between breaths of gas and air. 

Ben chuckled as he pushed the sweat sodden hair back from your brow. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours, the kiss was brief and nowhere near what was needed but it was all you could manage. 

It was enough, you thought at that moment.

The promise, that everything wasn’t lost, there was hope ahead, it carried you through.

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your feelings for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass crush on me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking adore you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and affection he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, lo- you couldn’t name the emotion entirely but it was some combination. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

Four Weeks Later

The two of you had come in leaps and bounds in your communication and you were striving towards a healthy relationship.

Hell, the two of you had been on about five PG-13 dates. Sure, it was slowly killing you, the lack of physical contact below the belt, but the two of you were getting to know each other as a romantic partner instead of a best friend that occasionally rides him in his truck.

It was good, going back over the steps the two of you had missed. Your injured vagina was allowing you to take it slow, something you and Benny sorely needed the second time round.

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in a booth; and you loved it. 

All in all, it was kinda perfect.

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect romance without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. All because the truth of the matter was;  feelings made you both uncomfortable.

So you avoided talking about them at all costs, hell you'd been in active labour before you'd been able to bare your soul to him.

So, how could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER, ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; infatuated with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking dig you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

“Everything is looking good - your perineum has healed very nicely.” Dr Clarke announced from her sensitive position between your stirruped knees. The doctor pushed herself back on her rolling stool as she began to remove her gloves to dispose of them before she turned to you with a cheerful smile. “I’m happy to sign you off with a clean bill of health, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but to return her infectious grin after, of course, you lifted your legs from the stirrups to allow for a smidge more dignity. 

“So… Sex? I’m all good?”

“Yes, Y/N, you’re all cleared for sex. It's been seven weeks since your labour and everything looks good, no pain. Obviously if that changes during and you get any red discharge, well, just make sure you keep an eye on it and get in touch if anything worries you. ”

That was two hours ago and you weren’t ashamed to admit you were already in the middle of an everything bath. Every surface of your body was buffed smooth and slowly being moisturised by the bath bomb fizzing away. 

A glass of red wine sat on the ledge, as you lay back basking in the candle light despite it being midday. 

Tonight was the night. For weeks on end you had fallen asleep aching and whilst clitorial stimulation was a powerful thing, nothing could replace that beautiful cock inside of you, stretching you to your limit making you cry for… Ahem. 

It had been a somewhat gradual development over the past six weeks; your transformation into a teenage boy with uncontrollably raging hormones. 

 The deprivation had amounted in essence to a month and half of edging and you were one bad afternoon away from mounting Ben’s leg like a bitch in heat.

Benny was resolute in his decision and had apparently saint-like (read as masochistic) restraint and would not go any further until he had confirmation from your doctor that it was safe, nevermind that you were a highly trained combat medic who knew her own body. 

Despite his refusal to go past third base, the two of you had become reacquainted in your dating period, he’d been at the back of your throat more nights than you could count and you were so desperate to feel him inside you again.

Sure, you’d come more times than you could count in the past two weeks - Benny ate pussy like the fucking champ he was. The man had made you come on his tongue three times in one night and yet when you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, your insides felt hollow. 

It was like having a prime rib in front of you and only being able to eat the french fries. Sure, they were salty and delicious but they didn’t fill you up quite the same way.

So, when you heard the front door open downstairs you were elated. 

The pounding of Benny's feet as he took the steps two at a time was music to your ears and your good mood continued as after a minute of searching for you he began to open the bathroom door. 

There he found you in a bath full of bubbles, in what you hoped was a seductive pose with your elbows poised on the tub - your collar bones were popping in the very least.

“Well.. hello.” Benny gave you a sleazy smirk as he advanced. Leaning over the bath to greet you with a deep kiss. And boy, was it deep - you could taste his coffee order on his tongue as it swept leisurely against your own. When he had finally had his fill, he pulled back if only slightly, resting his forehead against yours and  crouching next to the tub.

“You look like a goddamn angel.” He whispered, running a thumb down your spine gently caressing every sud covered joint. “All good at the docs? Everything where it should be?”

“She gave me a clean bill of health.” You tell him, slightly disappointed with the mood change but as always overwhelmed by the concern he held for you.

“You tell her about your ankles?”

“Please, Ben. Let's not talk about my swollen ankles, right now.” You wrapped your wet arms around his neck and pulled him forward with every intention of having him join you in the tub.

“Woah, tiger. Did you forget? It’s Santiago’s Bon Voyage party! He’s waiting downstairs with Mag’s.” He grinned as he pulled away, training sweats now covered in bubbles. 

Unable to stop yourself, you pouted. “Ben, if we had a party every time that man leaves the US we’d never stop being drunk. Come join me, please?” Ben’s brows furrowed for a moment and you dared to believe you'd won before a second, much more annoying voice, chimed in from the hallway.

“Now that is hurtful mi corazón!”

Benny chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He used your momentary distraction to pull away, stood to his full height and turned the bathroom lights on.

“You ruined my bath.” You sighed as you pulled yourself up and turned on the shower to rinse yourself. “I had so many juicy scenarios of us, that funnily enough all ended with you soapy and glistening.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me about them?” Benny smirks as he begins shaving. 

“You're really not gonna join me?” You pout yet again.

“Baby, if I go anywhere near you whilst your tits look like that, I won’t leave this house tonight.” 

It's the eye contact that gets you, it makes your knees weak and that near constant ache flare up. With a huff you shut the water off, you were slow as you climbed out of the bath, in part because you didn’t want to slip and die, the other; a seductive dance. 

Benny was doing his best to ignore you and stick to his task, though you could see his eyes follow you in the mirror, especially as your breasts bounced as you hopped your leg out of the tub. 

Granted, not quite as graceful as you imagined, yet it didn’t seem to matter to him one iota. 

Slowly, with the towel as a prop you took your time to dry off, you ran it along every inch of your entirely exposed flesh, watching as his enraptured eyes followed its path. 

Completely unable to help yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your bare breasts up against his arm. Your hands wrapped around the long bottle of cocoa butter as you backed away innocently. 

As you were yet to get a rise out of him, you decided to raise the stakes in an all out act of war. Under the guise of hanging your towel up on the rack beside the bath, you turned on your heel. 

With your back now exposed to him, in one fluid movement you bent at the waist, exposing everything to the father of your child. 

It was a cruel wanton decision. 

At his inhale, you knew you’d met your mark, so, as if you weren’t currently splayed out showing him your pussy, you began rubbing your cocoa butter into your newly smooth legs despite the less than ideal position for lotioning.

Once your legs were thoroughly lotioned, you looked over your shoulder to see Benny’s eyes trained on your exposed pussy, almost salivating at your incorrigible offering.  

A part of you was happy, he was finally feeling what you had been non-stop for three months. 

With that thought in mind, your brain cooked up a delicious little plan. 

Benny, as unrestrained as you currently were, driven to the edge over and over unable to tumble the precipice. He’d be an animal. The one he usually reserved for the fights. The ravaging wouldn’t quite be the love making he wanted but it would soothe the ache deep inside you.

Utterly resolved, you stood back up. You moved the bottle from palm to palm, suggestively stroking the phallic shape. He was completely entranced in your seduction, you were half convinced he’d completely forgotten Santiago's name as he watched your every movement with lust laden eyes.

As you reached across like before and your erect nipple brushed his bare arm, he turned to you. You placed the bottle back in its spot before you looked up at him. 

“Ooh Baby,  you cut yourself,” Slowly, all whilst maintaining eye contact your tongue brushed the pad of your thumb. Rising up on your tippy toes, your nipples barely brushing against his t-shirt clad chest, you wiped the line of blood from his chin. “Careful, love. I don’t want my seat to be hacked to pieces for later.”

Benny was, to put it lightly, stunned. 

It was fair to say, Benjamin had always been the aggressor in your encounters. 

It wasn’t so much that you were shy around the topic of sex, it was just that Benny was so outgoing. He told you what he wanted, not with words so much but with his body - that wasn’t to say that he didn’t have a dirty mouth to boot, but he was always the first to make a move and you liked it that way. 

This new desperate need had bought out a side of you neither had seen before and if the jostled mess of a Miller you left in your wake was any indication, you both liked it. 

Unfortunately instead of being pounded into your head board until you couldn’t walk straight as you should by all rights currently be doing, you were sat in Will’s lounge nursing your third glass of merlot openly eye fucking the father of your child.

In your defence, you had not hidden your desire to leave and for the most part everyone was pretty understanding, except for Benny. 

Who refused to leave or acknowledge you.

You were frustrated - no - you had passed frustrated two weeks ago;  you were furious. 

It had been three hours, you’d made the small talk, your daughter had been paraded around her doting uncles and the party herd had thinned to your inner circle. 

You loved Santiago so much, but even he understood; a girls gotta eat.

Consider it a by-product of three months of edging or maybe it was just plain childish revenge but his refusal to leave made you want for him to feel as desperate and as needy as you had been.

So, you constructed your three point plan. 

Turn him on

Leave him wanting more

Reap the benefits

It wasn’t a difficult plan, sure.

In theory giving the father of your child blue balls was pretty straight forward, but it was complicated when he was very deliberately avoiding looking your way; It seemed you’d made quite the impression in the bathroom. 

A burst of feminine pride overtook you at the thought of that and it gave you the courage for your first step. 

Eavesdropping, you joined Val and Santi’s conversation by the wine table. You were in the direct eye line of Benny, where he was currently talking with Frankie, Will and would you believe it-  Jen from Christmas! 

(It seemed like they had a cute little ‘will they/won’t they’ thing going on and you were here for it. )

As you filled your glass with the dregs of the bottle you joined their conversation, it was about Santi’s plans in Australia. Now you didn’t believe the majority of them as he used the word retire about six times, but you were happy he was happy, and that was enough. 

You’d almost forgotten your plan as you laughed with your friends, gossiping about Will and Jen.  

“I really hope they make it this time.” Val sighed heavily to the two of you. “She makes him so happy. It’s nice to see him smile!”

“I’m sure they will, they keep finding their way back to one another.” You added. 

“Plus, she’s great in bed.” Both women fixed Santi with a glare, he had the wrong crowd. “Will. Will told me she’s great in bed. Ladies, ladies - I would never do that to my boy.”

Rolling your eyes at your friend's joke, you surveyed the room. 

Ben still wouldn’t look your way and you felt that was unlikely to change any time soon. You were racking your brain for ideas on how to wind him up and short of a bend and snap you were coming up empty. 

At least, that was, until you saw the table.

You see, Marianna had a multipack of suckers, open on the coffee table in front of the couch she was currently watching her iPad on. 

Abandoning your glass of wine after politely excusing yourself, you took one and sat beside the child who paid you very little heed as you plopped down.  

Unwrapping a strawberry flavoured pop, you brought it to your lips. 

Benny was deliberate in his avoidance of eye contact, however, your eyes must have burnt a hole in his head as finally his eyes swept to the right, almost as a scan of the perimeter. They caught your own and the image you must have painted… your lips were slick with saliva and strawberry syrup. 

Your tongue wantonly ran along the pop whilst you maintained your very best bedroom eyes, it was difficult to do whilst also making sure Marianna never looked your way. 

A good thing too because you wouldn't be able to cover the fee of therapy for the young girl.

Slowly you placed the lollipop back in your mouth, wetting it once again with your tongue. As you pulled it back out you made sure your lips dragged along the surface. 

Benny stared at you as if you were prey, his hands tightened on his beer bottle as his chest moved in heavy deliberate breaths. 

Your pièce de résistance to bring it home is when you stuck your tongue out and bobbed it across. It was positively vulgar the way your spit dragged behind the ball, but Benny was mesmerised, which just so happened to draw Will and Jen’s attention. 

Very quickly your tongue was back in your mouth and your lollipop was resting on the inside of your cheek.

“Really, Y/N? You’re a mother and Mari’s right there!” Will huffed with your daughter in his arms, before he turned back to Ben.  “Seriously Ben-” 

Happy with your display you turned to Marianna, wrapping an arm around her. “What we watchin’?” 

Will had gone back to fawning over Maggie and Benny’s eyes strayed your way once more.  You shot a second wink at the man who had driven you to this insanity, deciding to be kind - well, kinda - You removed the pop from your mouth and with one clean swipe, licked all of the strawberry residue from your lips and promptly placed the lollipop between your molars and bit down, cleaving the treat in two. You couldn’t resist smiling innocently as you chobbled the hard candy, you couldn’t help the pride you felt as he discreetly attempted to rearrange his trousers. 

After being caught by Will and catching up with Marianna on the goings on of JoJo Siwia you headed over to Val, Santi and Jen with every intention of saving the new arrival. 

However your journey across the room was interrupted by Margaret and it wasn’t truly until you raced over to comfort your crying daughter that you came to the realisation that the man you loved was a monster. 

You were at Frankie’s side after a mere moment, her wails pierced your soul. 

“I think she's hungry.” Frank murmured whilst stroking her head and whispering in Spanish that was both too quick and quiet for you to make out, however Margaret’s cries had died down into whines. “Bottles in the bag?” 

“I think Ben left it out in the hall. You good with her?” You smile gratefully when he didn’t dignify it with a response, only cradling her closer and whilst patting her nappy clad butt rhythmically. 

You were in the coat cupboard under the stairs, searching through the coats and bags as you whispered distractedly to yourself. “Where’s your daddy put the diaper bag, Mags?”

The door creaked closed behind you, curious, you turned towards the noise and before your brain could even process the fact it was a trap, Benny had you pinned up against the wall with a hand over your mouth. 

A coat hook dug into your L3 yet as he pushed his hardened cock against your thigh; you can’t find it in you to care.

“What you did in the bathroom was mean. What you did with the lollipop was even meaner. Now I’ve gotta’ be the meanest and you don’t know how much I wanna take you home and-” He grunted into your neck.

“Mggie-mmmhgry–” You interrupted beneath his hand. He released your mouth and you repeated. “Maggie’s hungry.”

Benny ignored you entirely and began devouring your low neckline. “I was in the kitchen making her a bottle, mama.”

“God-” Your eyes clenched shut as his mouth explored the expanse of your throat “You’re such a good daddy, baby.” 

He goes rigid. 

For a solitary moment, you’re not sure if it's a good rigid or a bad one. 

Then he bit your lip. 

“Oh. You like it when I call you Daddy?” You whispered, pulling away from his mouth for a moment, before you joined your lips again. You had begun grinding your thigh into his bulge, phase one of your plan. 

In between hot kisses, you reached down and undid his trouser button. Your hand was sliding into his pants and wrapped around his member before he even knew what was happening. You had switched positions, now his back was up against the opposite wall and you were in control. 

Benny’s head fell back as you teased him. You dropped your mouth to his neck, kissing and biting the chorded muscle there as he rested his head. Eyes squeezed shut as he wrestled for control. 

His gasps were completely wrecked. Part of you felt vindicated; he now knew what you had suffered for the past few weeks. The desperate need for release. 

Benny sounded insanely close already just from a dry handjob in his brother's coat closet. You almost felt bad when, alas, just like that, you pulled your palm away.

“Y/N?” His voice was dazed as his eyes opened and his breathing remained ragged.

“It was a real dick move making us stay so long.” You pouted angrily, though there was no real heat behind your words as your body stayed pressed against his. “You don’t even know how wet I’ve been for the past five hours,”

Taking his strong lithe hands in yours - one of your favourite parts of him, back before you discovered a few new favourites - and lifted your dress. He was like a rag doll, pliable. You’d never seen Benny Miller so… submissive. 

He groaned as you lifted your dress to reveal your bare core. His two fingers looked giant as your much smaller ones guided him down, of course he helped, eager for anything you’d give. 

It had been a while and despite the labour you were incredibly tight, but your arousal more than lubricated the way. You were positively aching as his fingers dipped straight inside your channel. The groan was that of a tortured man as he felt the sheer amount of slick. He had bent down, his head resting on your shoulder for better purchase. 

Benny seemed to remember himself as he delved deeper, now scissoring his two fingers inside you. 

You’re big enough to admit that as you gave a gasp of pleasure, you were tempted to abandon the plan entirely, in favour of riding his cock in the cupboard under the stairs. You grabbed his long hair, your fingers weaving through to his roots. Not pulling, per say but enough that you had regained control. It helped that he had bent slightly to push his fingers deeper inside of you, in what you assumed from the pleasure coursing through your veins was an attempt to reach your cervix, meaning you were now the same height. 

Your voice was breathy as he had yet to pause his ministrations. Yet you placed a wet kiss on his lips, nipping at his bottom lip as you parted. 

“You’d slip right in, and you’d be so, so deep and delicious and it’d feel so good … but now you’ve gotta wait.” 

Your hand grabbed at his forearm, stopping his movements. Ever the gentleman, despite his desperate want, pulled back. 

You had yet to release your hold on his forearm as you bought his slick fingers up to your mouth and cleaned them off for him.

Denying yourself the quickie was worth it for the wounded groan of defeat as he pinched his eyes closed with his head thrown back. It almost broke your resolve as he stuffed his still hard cock back in his pants with some difficulty, looking all sad. 

Yet you stayed strong and rejoined the party, looking a little frazzled yourself. 

One and a half excruciating hours later, when you finally make it through your front door, you are burning for him. 

Which coincidentally means that your daughter decides that this is the perfect opportunity for a complete and utter meltdown. 

It was like the girl knew and had to throw down one last roadblock to fuck with you. Honestly, you were contemplating abandoning her at a fire station when Benny began rocking the wailing baby against his chest, soothing her cries and crooning softly to her. 

“You go up - I’ll get her a bottle.” Benny whispers to you, squeezing your palm. Weekends were important to Ben; giving you time to yourself, after spending all week with the newborn - he utterly cherished the time spent with his girl.

You placed a kiss on his cheek and stroked her head as you passed. 

Rushing to the bedroom, you grab a nightie from your drawer, it was the cute one you hadn’t worn in nearly a year. The one with matching, barely there, shorts beneath it. It left just enough to the imagination, not that you imagined you’d be wearing it for long if Benny had his way. 

You brush your teeth, your hair and throw on some deodorant for good measure. 

Fully prepped you return to your bedroom, no Benny in sight. 

Now, it's worth mentioning, you had been turned on for hours at this point. Your core was practically pulsating from watching the father of your child well… father Maggie. But, put it down to the four glasses of merlot or the long nights with a newborn, but as you seductively pose against the pillows waiting for Benny to join you, you find your eyelids become heavier and heavier until you find yourself drifting off into a light sleep.

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, as you have fallen deep into the pillows, no longer sexily poised ready for his arrival. Benny has dipped the warm lights low and Maggie’s white noise machine is soothingly playing Mozart from the bassinet in the corner of the room; it's a perfect night.

“It was selfish of me to wake you up.” Benny’s face is equal parts reverent and guilty as he stares at you, mirroring your position in the pillows. One hand runs up your exposed arm with a delicate soothing touch, one that does little if nothing to soothe you.  “You need your sleep, being a total milf must take it out of you.”

“You’d know.” Your voice is thick with sleep and your retort barely makes any sense, but he breathes through his nose, shaking his head at your delirium. 

“Go back to sleep baby.” He pulls the covers up over your legs. 

For a moment you are stunned; you had literally been edging him all night, and yet he still prioritised your rest. 

It was hard to associate him as the man who had broken your heart all those months ago for merely asking for a relationship. Yet it was him who was scared to take that step towards caring for another person. Benny had grown so much, as a father, as a partner; as a man. 

He had proven himself time and time again, worthy of the unspoken feelings between you, the three words which the two of you held captive, weighed heavy on your tongue. Despite all of your confessions both of you are too afraid to say them, both as complicated mess of commitment issues as the other.  

It wasn’t a game, withholding them, per say. It was fear; plain and simple, to say them, as if those words would somehow make this real. This thing between the two of you, the thing you had been chasing all those months ago, when you had confronted him outside your building. 

Benny opens his arms; an invitation you’d be a fool to refuse. His chest is bare and he’s clad only in his underwear. A discovery you’re happy to make as you burrow into his warm toned chest, though you have no intention of sleep anymore. 

For a moment, you breathe him in. You take stock of all the hurdles, the hurt and heartbreak, the relief and joy the two of you had gone through to get here. Whilst you may wish you’d taken a less scenic route, you can’t begrudge the pain, because it got you where you are now. 

“I love you.” Your voice is thick with both sleep and emotion when you say the words you’ve never spoken romantically to another person. 

He goes stiff and you're proud to say, you’re not afraid. 

Benny has proven himself. 

He has earnt that time, the moment or two he takes to pause, his arms rigid around you in shock at your earnest words. 

You trust him with your heart, because he has shown you beyond doubt he would guard it more ferociously than his own. 

For your faith he rewards you, grabbing your chin and crushing his lips to your own in a soul rendering kiss. One that holds the words he can’t seem quite able to get out, yet you know he feels as strongly as you. 

Benny pulls away and stares at you for a long moment, his blue eyes taking you in as if he’s seeing you for the first time. He manoeuvres you into the downy pillows, so smoothly you’re not entirely sure it wasn’t your idea to move.

Those baby blues glide across your body, taking inventory in a way he’d either never had the time or inclination before.  He is revenant in his reintroduction of your anatomy. 

Benny’s large hand finds your thighs and pushes them apart so he can take his seat between them.  Languidly he crawls above you bearing his weight on his elbows. 

He joins your lips once again, though this time he instantly deepens it, his tongue meeting yours as he licks into your mouth. 

Those hands you love so much, drag down the expanse of your tummy, sliding into the waistband of your night shorts. 

There's a slow drag of his tongue on your bottom lip, as his fingers drag across your soaking wet slit before his two fingers plunge knuckle deep, stretching you with very little resistance. 

You let out a deep moan though his hot mouth swallows your cry. You swear you feel his lips curl in a smile against yours. 

Evidently Benny remembers your body like the back of his hand, as his fingers curl against your walls in just the right way that has your toes curling. His thumb dips into your heat and gathers your slick, before it finds purchase on your bud. 

With military precision he swirls his thumb on your clit and after a few rotations you’re basically a goner. You grab at his hair, as you come hard from just his fingers. His mouth on yours continues to swallow your cries as you ride out your high. When it finally all becomes too much he pulls his sodden fingers from you only to lick them clean. Unable to help yourself, you let out a moan at the wanton show of debauchery. He pulls back for a moment to pull your nightie over your head, leaving you only in your soaked shorts. 

He kisses down your chest, nipping and licking along your breasts - his tongue lavishing your nipples in worship. Benny pushes your wet shorts down your hips, ready to dive in head first and devour your core, however, you’ve had six weeks of agonising foreplay, you are eager for this gorgeous man to be inside of you and ease this painful ache. 

“Benny… Please, I want you inside of me.” For years to come this will be a point of contention, whether or not you begged for his cock that first time. 

But right now, he simply nods pushing himself back up your body, his boxers are kicked down his legs as he makes the journey, desire overflows in your belly, as you look down and see how swollen he is. 

Unable to resist you wrap your hand around him, he grunts in surprise as you stroke him. 

“Careful.” His voice is strained and you realise your calm and collected Benjamin Miller is as desperate and needy as you. 

He crawls up your body and you find yourself in the missionary position, you don't have time to smile at how domestically quaint it is. Before the tip of his cock is rubbing along your clit; once, twice before he lines up and breaches the walls of your cunt. 

It's a tight fight and its slow going. 

You’re newly healed and he’s considerate, though his commentary makes you think the slow pace may also be for his benefit.

“Fucki- shit– you’re fucking tight angel. Tighter than before - fuck, I’m not gonna last.” Inch by delicious inch, you swallow him up.

“Fuck Benny, I forgot how good you-” His hand covers your mouth as hes finally sheathed fully inside of you - he’s fighting for his life not to come early. 

You’re utterly full of him, as your legs wrap around his lithe hips, you’re desperate for him to move.

Finally, he asks; control seemingly regained after a moment or two of splitting you open. “You okay… no pain?”

“I’ll be a whole lot better if you fuck me.” You retort cheekily, to which he grins and kisses you hard as his hips pull back nearly all the way before he spears you with his cock. 

Benny’s thick member drags against your walls, making your eyes roll back at the sheer size of him; your fingers and toys hadn’t done him justice. 

Benny’s hand dips to your cunt, seeking out your bundle of nerves. Which he finds with a combination of his expert touch and his intricate knowledge of your body.

Driving hard into you, you feel the pressure building again, before a tidal wave of pleasure overtakes you. 

“Fuck, Benny…” You have enough about you to remember to whisper as you plea. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna come.”

“Let go, Angel.” He continues his steady rhythm continuing to grind his cock deep inside of you. It hits you like a truck as your whole body clenches around him - a guttural moan leaves your body and your legs lock around his body whilst your heels find purchase in the dimples above his ass. 

Benny’s pace slows but doesn’t stop as he leisurely rolls his hips to draw out your climax. He kisses you deeply, his tongue is slow and deliberate as he explores the plains of your mouth. This intimacy had never been afforded to you, this slow love making, it was new terrain and you fucking loved it. 

With his cock still buried deep inside of you, Benny pulls away licking along your neck. One hand rises from where it had been leisurely playing with your nipple to push your displaced hair behind your ear. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous when you come, your pussy gets so fuckin’ tight.” He tells you, your eyes locking with his baby blues. “...and you’re gonna’ give me another one.”

“Benny … I-” You pant as you’re already straddling the line between pleasure and overstimulation. 

He shushes you, as he begins picking up his pace. His filthy words help build you back up to your peak when he suddenly draws back, pushing your knees up against your chest and a pillow under your hips. This new position drives him deeper and harder with his own knees powering his thrusts. 

“Fucking sweet mother of-” His hand covers your mouth and your moans are drowned out by Ben’s heavy breathing of exertion and slapping of skin on skin. 

“Baby.” He whispers breathily, reminding you of your snoozing dependant in the corner as he continues to pound relentlessly into your core. 

Ben's hands grab at your hips holding you in place as you do everything in your power to angle yourself up and get him as deep as you can. You swear your eyeballs have rolled back into your head permanently as your hands find the headboard, pushing yourself back up and into him, somehow he manages to burrow even deeper. 

“Fuck -” He grunts, his skin is now bathed in a dew of sweat as his long blonde locks fall forward onto his forehead. His eyes are clenched as he chases his pleasure, still fighting it off so that you get there first. 

“Fuck baby … fuck, I need you to come.” Benny groaned. “Give me something nice and tight to come into.”

He needn’t have asked twice. 

The combination of his filthy words, the world devastating thrusts making his balls slap rhythmically against your ass and his practised thumb drawing shapes on your clit had your world shattering once more. 

Benny buried his face in your neck as he came, filling you up whilst you clenched around him with one hand wrapped in his hair and your toes curling against his chest. 

Lingering for a moment, he shifted, keeping himself still inside of you, letting your joints relax either side of you.

The two of you basked in the closeness of one another, time seemed to slow as you lay there stroking Ben Miller's blonde locks as he flourished your chest in kisses with his cock slowly softening inside of you. 

Two Months Later

“Ben … come on we’re going to be late! He’s proposing and if we’re not there he’ll kick your ass.”

“Why my ass?” Your boyfriend questions as he walks down the hall whilst simultaneously knotting his tie. 

“I’m the mother of his favourite niece, he can’t hurt me.” 

“No need to burn Mariana like that, Baby.” He smirks, placing a light kiss on your lips.

“You should’ve heard what that little shit said about my shoes yesterday…” Your feuds with the youngest Morales were both passionate and seemingly never ending. 

Grabbing him by the mess of his tie, you undo his shoddy work. 

“Who’s holding us up now?!” He huffs, though there's ample teasing behind his tone. 

“Oh shush.” You reply whilst you adjust it.  Benny's long arms snake around your waist to rest on your lower back before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. 

It starts off sweet, honestly! It's nothing more than a peck really, before his tongue presses against your lips and his hands have the meat of your ass squeezed in his palms now somehow underneath your sundress. 

Pushing against his shoulders, you remove yourself from temptation. 

“Did I tell you you look like a fuckin’ angel today?” He murmurs against your throat as he places kisses along the neckline of your dress. “ … C’mon, back of the truck… we can make it to Will’s next engagement.”

“That’s mean.” You huff, knocking his cap off his head before grabbing the car key and the baby. 

He snickers as he grabs his belongings from the dish on the side table preparing to leave the house, it's as you’re just about to cross the threshold with your daughter in your arms that he speaks again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You pause for a moment utterly stunned at the words you'd been dying to hear for the past 10 years.  For all of two seconds you contemplate taking him back upstairs.

“I know.” You simply reply, schooling your face to show none of the emotions currently coursing through your veins.

The booming laugh that follows you out of the house makes absolutely everything worth it. 

THE END.

[mania-sama]

something in the orange tells me you're never coming home

Something in the Orange - Zach Bryan

➼ information ❧ Call of Duty ❧ Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley ❧ Additional Character: John Price ❧ Tags: wwi au, christmas truce of 1914, football/soccer, ambiguous/open ending, gift giving, implied/referenced time-period homophobia, angst, hurt! soap ❧ Summary: In spite of the months they’d spent in the trenches on the Western Front, Soap still managed to give Ghost a Christmas present. ❧ Word Count: 5,325 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 25 December 2022

December 24, 1914 ; Flanders, Belgium

Trench warfare was the absolute worst, Soap decided.

It had been raining nearly nonstop for weeks on end, leaving the trench floors so wet to the point that it was nearly impossible to walk anywhere without being swallowed knee-deep in mud. The winter clothing they had been issued blocked out the cold for the most part, but it had been months since he had last felt sincerely warm and dry.

The rain, mud, and cold itself weren’t the main issues by themselves. Rather, it was what they caused. At any given moment, parts of the trench would collapse under the weight of the wet dirt, burying soldiers underneath. On more than one occasion, it took precious lives. Then more soldiers would replace those that had died.

Even that was tame in comparison to what the soldiers had dubbed trench feet. Countless men had blisters and swollen feet, red and dirty and pulsing with pus. Their toes had sunken in, the bottoms of their calloused feet peeling apart to leave nasty, gushing wounds. The remaining men had long learned their lessons about keeping their feet out of the mud for as long as possible.

All in all, the trenches were terrible, and Soap wanted nothing to do with them anymore.

This was the first day it had stopped raining. It was replaced by gentle snow, creating a thin layer of white at the bottom of the trench. Soap wanted to be angry at it, because if it went on for enough time they would have to spend all of their time shoveling it out so they could traverse their grounds. But he couldn’t be mad, because it was beautiful.

For once, he couldn’t hear bombs exploding in the distance or gunshots ringing in his ears. Normally, the only time there was complete silence from the normal warfare was at set mealtimes. All of the soldiers, even the Germans, had to eat at some point. Then it would start again.

But not this time. The drifting white world cushioned any noise whatsoever, and John found himself actually wanting to devour the chocolate bar sent by Her Highness Princess Mary.

Not that he liked her very much. No true Scot liked any of the British, especially when they forced Scotland’s young men into the trenches.

There was only one exception to this rule, and Soap hated himself every day for it. How he couldn’t help but like the masked soldier to his right, a Britishman through and through. John had willingly joined the military years ago, if only because it was one of his only options. He stayed not just because he enjoyed the constant adrenaline-high of battle, nor the camaraderie of brothers in arms, but because of Ghost.

He was his life’s regret.

“The chocolate tastes much better than mud,” Ghost mused beside him, folding the finished chocolate wrapper neatly into a small square. There was no space inside the trenches for trash. “But if you’re content eating dirt, have right at it.”

Soap rolled his eyes and muttered a string of Scottish that he knew Ghost wouldn’t understand. As expected, a quick “speak English” followed.

“Anything from the throne is worth less than rubbish,” he said in a poor impression of a British accent.

“Even the winter clothes keeping your nose from frostbite?”

“Especially that.”

Ghost huffed in response. Even though he was wearing a mask, his breath still crystallized in the night air. It was a cruel reminder that even Ghost, someone who seemed so immune to death, was still human. And at any moment, even on Christmas Eve, he could meet his end.

The white silence found John once again. It was calming, in a way. He could almost forget that he was sitting in a cold trench, far from his homeland. He was simply having a cup of beer with a dear friend, participating in a merry conversation.

That was, of course, until he heard the sound of singing.

“What the fuck is that?” He exclaimed to Ghost, leaning his head forward and up to try to see anything past the wooden walls of the trench and the starry night sky. All it served to do was catch snowflakes in his eyelashes.

It took a beat for his friend to respond, eyes upcast in the same attempt as John. “The Germans have found the Christmas spirit.”

Whispers went up and down the British trench as the enemies got louder. “Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh. Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,” they sang.

Down the line, Soap heard a soldier say, “It’s Silent Night, ‘innit?”

By God, it was. The German accent floated across No Man’s Land, worming its way into the tight space of their trench. Another soldier called to his brothers, “They’ve put up small trees on the line! They’ve got lights on them!”

Soap didn’t know what to feel. He’d always liked Christmas. Not for the sake of his own religion or for the time allotted to spend with family— his family was dead and gone, anyway— but for the spirit of the holiday. Call him childish, but he enjoyed seeing everyone in a brightened mood. He enjoyed sitting down with his brothers in arms and showing them the presents he’d scrounged together for them, relishing in the looks of surprise on their faces. He enjoyed having a bourbon and seeing entire streets decorated.

It was his favorite time of the year, which was the reason why he joined the quiet caroling of the British soldiers in response to the Germans. He was as loud as he could possibly be.

Ghost groaned. “Stop that. You sound like a howling dog.” Of course he would make that comparison. Soap hated dogs.

At least it proved that Ghost was paying attention. John leaned in and sang the lyrics to Silent Night off-key on purpose, directly into where Ghost’s ear was supposed to be. It didn’t take long for Ghost to put a gloved hand on his face and shove him away.

“C’mon! Join in, then!” He shouted, briefly cutting through the British’s now loud caroling.

“I don’t sing, Johnny.”

“Fine, then,” he said, and then cursed him out in a string of Scottish Gaelic.

“English,” Ghost said. If Soap wasn’t mistaken, he could almost pick up a bit of fondness in his tone. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. War tended to do that to a person.

“I said, once you get your thick skull out of your arse, you can join the next song. ”

Ghost stared at him, unblinking, through his embroidered skull mask. His eyes were a pure brown, illuminated by the lanterns hanging from the walls Sometimes, his eyes were a green color, like shards of grass sparkling in morning dew. Now, they looked like the chocolate John refused to eat— sweet, but made from the most bitter bean.

His eyelashes were the most physically captivating part of him, though. They were the most pure white, whiter than the snow that laced the trenches and purer than water drawn from a clear spring. People tended to think it was a sort of make-up that Ghost wore, but the truth was that he had been born that way.

Maybe he stared for a bit too long with too much intensity. Maybe the songs were intoxicating him, pumping a drug too-strong to be physical into his veins. Maybe, for the first time, he thought that the fighting wasn’t worth it on Christmas.

The British men had families waiting for them. The German men were just the same. Soap had Ghost, and Simon had John. They had to fight, if they wanted to make it to the end of the war. The very same war that they had been promised would end long before Christmas Eve.

The trenches were getting to him, he thought. He let himself get drowned back into the noise of the caroling soldiers once more. They had moved on from Silent Night, battlin the Germans in a contest to see who could be louder. It was a nice change of pace.

Despite his exasperation, Simon didn’t leave John’s side. Not even after flasks of fine bourbon— too fine for the warfront— was passed around to the awaiting soldiers. Not even when more could be obtained in a different sector of the trench. Soap didn’t dare to abandon Ghost, either. They stayed side by side in that cold trench, quipping back and forth and singing to spite the war they’d been trapped in.

For a moment, Soap allowed himself to dream of a life outside of the war. A life where he would be able to set aside his constant need for adrenaline and settle down somewhere in a nice city or town. To live in a nice house with good food— may God strike down whoever made the food issued to the soldiers— and even better company. He tried to ignore who he pictured as that company. It was unrealistic, even for him.

It wasn’t necessarily uncommon to hear the occasional shout back and forth from the Germans and British. Most of them were insults before or after a barrage of fire, declarations of hatred fueled by the unburied men lying dead in No Man’s Land. This was different, though. This silenced all of the soldiers’ singing, from both sides.

“English!”  A German voice cut through. Soap had half a mind to respond with “Fritz!”. “Tomorrow, if you no shoot, we no shoot!”

Quiet murmuring spread through the trench. It was an ask for peace, an armistice for just one day. The commanders would never allow it. They had been doing everything they could to keep up the fighting spirit of the British military, setting out new attacks every time their morale dipped too low. This request for truce would never stand if the higher-ups had anything to do with it.

Although, there was one person who did things differently. Soap wasn’t surprised to hear his voice, and from the shake of Ghost’s head, he wasn’t surprised either.

“Give us enough time to bury our dead?” Officer Price shouted back. Soap could see him further down the line, on the small ladder leading up into No Man’s Land. His head was barely sticking out above the sandbags on top of the walls.

It took the Germans a second to respond, no doubt going through their translators to understand what the commander had said. “If you give time to us, too!”

“When the sun rises,” Price said, “on Christmas day.”

“Frohe Weihnachten!” Cheered the enemy.

“Happy Christmas!” The British cheered back, commanders and soldiers alike. Almost in sync, all of the sector began caroling again, starting up with Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

Ghost made a noise that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “Ol’ man is out of his mind again.”

John could hardly believe it himself. It hadn’t just been Officer Price that agreed to the Germans’ terms. It had been all of the commanders in their sector— only God knew how many other sectors of the trench had been offered an armistice as well.

“I give it an hour before someone starts shooting,” said Ghost in lieu of John’s silence.

He didn’t know how long their peace would hold, if it did at all. All he did know was that the Germans had started the singing, put up their trees, and shouted across the trenches. He knew that they weren’t to be trusted, but that they loved Christmas more than Soap could comprehend.

So, he shrugged, picking out a cigarette from his uniform’s inner pocket. “You’re an incarnate of Krampus.”

“Krampus?”

“Santa Claus’ devil brother. Stabs misbehaving children.”

“Yes,” Ghost said, “sounds just like something I’d do.”

“Sick bastard,” he muttered through his cigar, inhaling its fumes. A soft burn entered his throat, but it was something he’d gotten used to over time. It was pleasant rather than harmful, a welcome pain to contrast the biting cold.

The tobacco would give him a necessary adrenaline boost, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. He was tired— a constant state he’d been in ever since he’d set foot in the trenches. The warfare was completely different from the missions he’d run in the military. Instead of maneuvering through cities or open land, trekking across streams and roads, he had to lay stationery and wait for the fight to come to him.

Just to break the lowering spirit of the soldiers, their commanders would send men out into No Man’s Land to rush to the other side, gather what data they could, and take down a few Fritz in the process. The number of men that went across would be halved, if that. Many times, it would be just a quarter left. Machine guns were carved from Beelzebub’s hands.

Sleep was hard in the trenches. He couldn't remember the last time he’d slept more than a few hours at a time. It was impossibly uncomfortable. There was no space to properly lie down, and he had to rush to snag a good spot before anyone else could take it.

Night was no longer the designated sleeping time. It was just whenever the soldiers could manage it, usually more in the daytime. Maneuvers and attacks tended to happen more in the shelter of the stars. The darkness masked moving soldiers and dead bodies in No Man’s Land.

Soap despised trench warfare. But if the temporary armistice went well, he could find it in himself to dig up some joy.

Stamping out his cigar burning cigar, he joined back into the singing, something he knew would last well into the night. As long as the Germans sang, the British would, too. It was a different kind of fight, one that didn’t involve bloodshed or crying wives or orphaned children. Beside him, he could hear, feel Simon hum along to the chorus with the other soldiers.

He didn’t say anything about it. If he did, it would make his friend stop. There was nothing Soap wanted more than to keep the warmth that Ghost’s humming made.

The singing did die down eventually, but not until the moon was low in the sky. Before long, it would be sunrise, and they would begin burying their dead. Hopefully, anyway.

Hitting Ghost on the chest, he said, “I’m going to take a kip. If Price comes around, tell him I’ve died.”

“Cause of death?”

“Christmas joy strangled my cold heart.” He pulled himself up into the hole behind him, just barely big enough for two people to cramp together inside for warmth and shelter. It was by no means comfortable, but it was better than sleeping in the middle of the trench and being snowed on.

“I thought I was Krampus.”

“You are,” he said, closing his eyes, “I’m your evil elf.”

There it was again. That huff of amusement that was so rare, yet seemed almost common in the snow that wrapped around them. Soap bottled up that fire and let it burn into his dreams. Dreams that consisted of a home with a cat, whiskey, warm food, and a face unmasked. A face that he’d only seen twice in his lifetime.

December 25, 1914 ; Flanders, Belgium

John woke up to screaming.

“It’s Christmas, soldier! Get your ass moving or you’ll be on latrine duty!”

It was quite possible Soap had never woken up faster in his life. Officer John Price’s face stared back at him, bright with joy that he only ever got from scaring the shit out of other men. Blearily, he saw Ghost standing a pace away, arms crossed over his chest.

Noticing his staring, Simon shrugged. “I told him you were dead. He said dead men don’t drool.”

“Did you at least tell ‘im how I died?” Soap asked, a little dizzy from standing so fast after being dead asleep. Around him, men were climbing out of the trenches and into No Man’s Land. They were languid, and none carried their weapon with them. It was odd, but the glistening snow made the sight beautiful.

“MacTavish, you’re the only man I know that’s given a gift to every single person he’s met on Earth.” John wanted to be offended, but it seemed like his officer was actually trying to compliment him. “Christmas couldn’t kill you even if it tried.”

Wiping away dirt from his clothes, he cleared enough of residual sleep to really take in the waking world. He could hear German and British accents alike conversing with one another, the sound of shovels hitting the dirt, and laughter. Genuine, hearty laughter didn’t have a place in war. Yet, there it was.

“It’s time to bury our dead. Afterwards, we can see what presents Soap managed to pull together,” Price slapped them both on the backs, then joined the group of men waiting to get up the ladder.

“It hasn’t hit the first hour yet. Bet’s still on,” Ghost said, trailing after the officer with Soap.

Soap nudged through the soldiers at the base of the wooden ladder. “After, you can stab any child you see.”

“What else would there be to do?”

He didn’t think he would ever get tired of hearing that dry humor. It was a trap that Soap had long fallen into, trapped in the jaw of the skull mask. Eventually, it would end. They would part ways as they became too old to serve. John would be expected to marry a nice woman and have at least two children, and Ghost would find a girl to do the same.

At least, that was the progressive expectation. It wasn’t what he wanted, but there weren’t that many options for men like him. Every time he looked at Ghost, he was reminded of the life he wasn’t allowed to have.

The graves they dug were nowhere closer to three feet than four. Some were as shallow as two feet. There wasn’t enough time in the day to get all the way down. There were even bodies that were so decomposed that they could hardly bury them at all.

It was gruesome and tiring work, but it wasn’t the first time Soap had done it. He didn’t believe it would be his last, either.

Their sector cleared their dead bodies, storing their dog tags safely with the commanders until further notice. During the burial, soldiers had cried from both sides of the war. They were all human, and some were burying their closest friends. If John had been burying Price, Alejandro, or Rodolfo, or anyone else he was close with, he could’ve been among them. But his friends were alive, their hearts beating with his as they intermingled with the German soldiers.

Soap refused to acknowledge that Ghost could’ve been among the dead. He was too good to die so easily.

“It’s hit the fifth hour. Lost that bet a long time ago,” John said, watching as a British man got his hair trimmed by a German soldier-barber. He already had his done— it felt nice to have his mohawk back. There were talks amongst the ranks about mandatory hair shaving, but he ignored it. Nobody was going to remove his hair without his strict permission.

“Day’s not over. I might just do it myself,” Ghost replied nonchalantly. At the beginning, the Germans had been very curious over his mask. It wasn’t too soon after that they realized that he had no answers to give and that if they kept asking him about it, there would suddenly be a whole lot more bodies to bury. It wasn’t very Christmas-y of him, but Soap let it pass.

Something hit him hard on the back of his head, which was then followed by, “Hey! Up for a game of football?”

In the face of the smiling soldiers standing before him, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad about being hit. Instead, he began toying with the ball under his foot.

“Only if Ghost is playing,” he grinned. Simon groaned, but it wasn’t long before they were separated into teams.

There were Germans playing with Brits, and Brits playing against Germans. Their nationality didn’t matter— none of it mattered, other than kicking the ball in the right direction. It was a euphoric feeling. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he knew he would never get to again.

He kicked Ghost on more than one occasion when trying to get the ball away from him. They’d agreed to be on different teams; it’d be more fun that way, and they hadn’t been wrong. He let himself cut loose and be aggressive in a sport he hadn’t played in over a year, pushing and shoving without any real malice in his actions.

If anything, he enjoyed watching Simon play football. That was a sight he wouldn’t forget, for more reasons than one.

The soldiers stayed out for a while, long after the sun had set and the stars had risen. No Man’s Land, despite its barbed wires, ditches, and bodies underneath the surface, was much better than the trenches. Yet, John had made his way back inside. It was the place he wanted to be the least, but there was something important he needed to pile together before the night was over.

There were barely any soldiers about the sector, so there was nobody to question what he was doing. It was just as well, when he was putting on the last finishing touches, that he should hear somebody climb down the ladder.

“The war finally got you?” Ghost called, rubbing his hands together as he stalked towards John. “No presents this year.”

“No presents?” Soap asked, carefully blocking the gift inside a little dug out area inside the wall. “Well, if that’s what you believe, then I’ll just have to keep this for myself.”

He brought out the bag hiding behind his back, the contents inside all wrapped as carefully as he possibly could with gloved fingers. He didn’t want to risk frostbite, even though he knew that in the end, he’d risk everything— not just a few fingers— for Simon.

It took a second for Ghost to react, as though he wasn’t expecting a gift at all. Then, he slowly said: “Who’s it for?”

“The vultures now, since you don’t want it,” he said. But despite his words, he handed the bag over to his friend. He wasn’t in the mood to play anymore games. He’d waited long enough for the best part of Christmas.

Ghost took the bag with impossible gentleness, like he was cradling a baby. When he looked inside, genuine surprise overtook his features. “It’s all for me?” He asked, and then quickly amended with, “Seems you really do like me, Johnny.”

“Don’t get a big head. You’ll grow out of your mask.”

All of the gifts inside the bag were individually wrapped. It’d taken him the entire month to gather all of the makeshift paper and strings he needed to do the wrapping. The items themselves had been a longer game, something he’d been accumulating nearly the entire year. He just hadn’t known his progress would become stagnant after the war started.

The Germans had been of help, though.

Ghost picked one of the gifts out, setting the bag on the ground so he could undo the strings and paper. His expression was the sole reason Soap loved Christmas so much; seeing barely contained astonishment in normally-stoic people’s faces, or unbridled joy in those that didn’t mind showing emotion. It didn’t matter to him either way. It was the fact that he could make people’s day so much better with one gift that kept him celebrating.

“How did you…” It was hard to get the Ghost speechless, but apparently traditional Chinese sweets could do the trick. “Are all of these sweets?”

“You’ll have to open them to find out. I won’t do the dirty work for you, you jackass.”

On more than one occasion, John had the burning urge to take off Simon’s mask. The reasons varied, but this time, he just wanted to see if his friend was smiling. The skull made it impossible to tell what was lying underneath. The only thing he could see was his deep brown eyes. For now, that would have to be enough.

The next present he opened was a package of specialized Egyptian chocolate. Outside of fighting, sweets were Ghost’s one true love. It was the only present Soap could manage during wartime. He prayed that Price wouldn’t say anything about it. 

Ghost stared at that Egyptian chocolate bar for a long time. Somewhere down in the bag, there was a German cookie called lebkuchen. He’d traded it off with a German soldier for the British chocolate he hadn’t eaten. He knew it would be worth it.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Simon said earnestly, exchanging the Egyptian chocolate for another wrapped candy. 

John flicked his hand in the air, as if waving off Ghost’s concern. “I know what you can give me,” he said. “A promise.”

Ghost stilled, leaving the gift halfway undone. “My word?”

“When we leave the military, whenever that may be,” Soap hoped that Ghost couldn’t detect the slight quaver in his voice, blaming it on the cold, “we stay friends. Become next door neighbors in the same town.” In America, maybe, where the war hadn’t reached.

There were times when Soap liked silence, such as on Christmas Eve when all of the fighting had ceased and it only snowed. There were more times that he hated it, like now, when he couldn’t read what Ghost was thinking.

“I’ll adopt a dog. Name it after you.”

Relief had never felt so good. “Cruel, even for you.”

If Ghost picked up on Soap’s nerves, he didn’t comment on it. He did, however, relish in bites of the German cookie he eventually unwrapped. Soap was happy to see a little bit of his face, even if it was just his mouth and jaw. It was better than nothing at all.

He didn’t sleep very well that night; the bursting sounds of bombs and dying men kept jerking him awake.

September 12, 1917 ; Calais, France

It was lonely in the cot. There were nurses that came to care for him, and they were nice enough. There were the other men in the infirmary, but they were busy talking to each other and flirting with the poor nurses. Soap wasn’t interested in any flirting. While chatting would’ve been nice, he found it hard to participate.

Mostly because it hurt like hell to talk. On bad days, even breathing became a difficult task. Today wasn’t so bad, though. He had gotten word of a regiment coming into town.

At first, it had scared him. He could only assume the worst because he had lived through the worst. Then, he was told that the regiment was stopping to regroup and reorganize, as well as treat the wounded. The Germans had not done to them what they had done to his own regiment.

It became a waiting game after that. He only felt true relief when a nurse gently touched his shoulder and said: “You have a visitor.”

“What’s their name?” He asked hoarsely, though he had a feeling he already knew who it was. Or maybe it was just blind hope. He had been grasping at anything he could the moment the gas had filled the trench.

“It’s me, Johnny.”

There was only one person that was allowed to call him Johnny. For the first time since they had gotten separated in 1916, he smiled. “Took you long enough.”

Ghost was quiet. The indescribable and faint voices of the other men in the infirmary gave the illusion that his friend wasn’t really there at all. It sent a stabbing pain through his chest.

“I’ve eaten all the sweets,” Simon finally said. It sounded strangled, like it hurt to say.

“They don’t give me any here, so there’s none left for you. Won’t even let me have a smoke,” he grumbled. Between the gas corroding his lungs and the intense craving for a cigar, his throat was constantly hurting. At the very least, the nurses had given him chewing tobacco. It eased the cravings, but only by a little.

Ghost was so quiet, like he was just an apparition as his nickname suggested.

It was uncharacteristic of there to be such tension between them. It wasn’t anger. It was something so much worse, and it practically emanated off of his friend.

Simon said: “The war’s going to be over soon.”

They said it would be over before the end of 1914. It’d been four years since the beginning, and all of his officers had said that same godforsaken phrase every day for every month and every year. The war had reached America, as well as just about every part of the damned world they lived on. There were no safe places.

It didn’t really feel like the war would ever be over. Not when he was still lying in a cot, still unable to see and still unable to breathe. He had walked out of that trench with cloth wrapped around his eyes and hands on the shoulders of the man in front of him. It was the only way to make it out of that trench without dying.

“The mask,” he said. His throat hurt much worse than it had before. “Take it off.”

Two times, he had seen Ghost without his mask on. One had been in a group setting, a sign of camaraderie and trust amongst the men gathered. The second had been alone in a state of vulnerability. That was when they had forged the bond that could never be broken.

Soap had asked him to take it off again several times, and he’d always be met with a dead end. Complaint after complaint about John’s nagging would get him to stop for a few months, and then he’d begin it again. This time, there were no complaints. Not a single word was uttered as John strained to pick up on the pulling of fabric.

He didn’t have to be told when it was all the way off. “Come close,” he said, motioning towards himself.

Rustling of a chair against the floor as Ghost moved closer to Soap’s cot. “This good, Johnny?”

Slowly, John reached an arm out to find his friend’s face. It took a moment, but eventually the back of his hand found his cheek. Now knowing where he was, he took his precious time to cup Ghost’s face with his palms.

He let it rest there before he let his hands examine the rest of Simon’s face. His fingers traced over the curve of his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the new, raised scar across his hairline. The tenderness of his lips and the hair on chin. He was gentle with the eyes, though he admittedly saved that for last. He ran his thumb over his eyelashes, wishing he could see the alluring whiteness once again.

Recording it with his hands would have to do. Sight wasn’t an option anymore.

He never wanted to take his hands away from Ghost’s face. For him, it was the equivalent of letting him go entirely. He didn’t want him to go back onto the front lines, not while Soap couldn’t join him.

He let his arms go limp at his side and leaned back against his cot. This would have to do. He didn’t have much of a choice.

A hand tugged at his blindfold, pulling ever so gently that if it weren’t for his heightened senses, he might’ve not noticed it. Then, two hands covered his eyes, feeling them in the same way he had felt Ghost’s.

“After the war,” Ghost said softly, “we’ll live wherever you want. I promise.”

Soap wanted nothing more than to believe his word.

[dynamitegun]

Top Ten Albums

I might be the wrong person to ask since my tastes vary wildly, but I'll try I'll do it for you @lilmissnatcat24

Rules: List your top 10 favorite albums, and (if you want) include a brief description for why each one made it onto the list. Then, tag 10 (or however many you want, really) others to do the same.

You want to try?@strawberrykidneystone No pressure if not. I promise.

1# Daft Punk: Discovery (2001)

Featuring the first appearance of the DJ duos iconic headgear, a tie in ANIMATED FILM and an hour of tracks that range from perfect for clubbing (One More Time) to a song that makes you want to grab onto who you hold most dear. (Something about Us) Discovery holds a special place in my heart, having listened to it dozens of times over the years, owning it on CD and digital and feeling its style changed my outlook on music entirely.

2# Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds (1978)

Embarrassed to admit, my introduction to H.G Wells Sci-Fi classic The War of the Worlds was composer Jeff Wayne's musical adaptation from the '70s. With a distinct funky style mixed with a mix of classic keyboard and vocals, his retelling of an England under siege by Martian invaders made me a fan of the novel and spinoffs to this day. The track detailing the valiant act of HMS Thunderchild against a trio of Martian tripods is in my mind the standout piece. (hell it's on the cover)

(Wayne did do a modern remake in 2012, featuring Liam Neason and a more Techno-Electric backing. I like both but prefer the original)

3# Sabaton Heroes (2013)

My darkest hour, deep in my thankfully long dead Wehraboo phase *shivers* I discovered Swedish Power Metal band Sabaton and their 2013 Album Heroes. Dedicated to unsung heroes of WW2 it includes tracks on the exploits of an all female bomber regiment on the eastern front (Night Witches), the unsung men of the Brazilian expeditionary Force in Italy (Smoking Snakes) and Karel Janoušek, the man who commanded free Czech pilots against the Lufftwaffe over France and Britain in 1940. (Far from Fame) Heroes gives forgotten parts of the past a new light. And for Sabaton? This will not be the last time they appear.

4# Marty Robins, Gunfighter Ballads and Other Trail Songs (1959)

Not a fan of country, but between one of its tracks inclusion in Fallout: New Vegas (Big Iron)and my love for historical ballads Robins' nostalgic send up to the romanticized American West (As opposed to its actual, much less family friendly, historical truth) is a guilty pleasure that I actually went so far as buying a CD of for a road trip. El Paso a tale of love and violence is probably my favorite track.

5# Sods Opera Come on Lads!

WW2 pub songs as they were originally performed, with all the filthy language and vulgarity intact. Nothing better to wash the dishes to, or perform in the shower. Standout is a heartbreaking rendition of The D-Day Dodgers

6# Sabaton, The War to End All Wars (2022)

100% Bias since I had the absolute privilege to see this performed in concert, Sabaton's excellent second part to their 2019 The Great War album is masterful in bringing to light the forgotten stories of the poorly branded Great War. The standout for me is Christmas Truce, a retelling of the 1914 spontaneous holiday cease fire held in some parts of France between Entente and German troops. We actually sang this together as the audience. *Chills*

(My first concert experience. Could barely speak the next day my throat hoarse from screaming)

7# Daft Punk Random Access Memories

I still remember picking up the CD for myself well Christmas shopping back in 2013. Random Access Memories is a walk back in time, to the age of disco, funk and the beginnings of techno. With talent like Nile Rodgers, Paul Williams and Pharrell... Williams (no relations) it was their most mainstream album to date, winning them a Grammy award that same year. It was also their final album, but at least they ended on a high note.

8# Michael Giacchino Medal of Honor Frontline soundtrack

I'm going to have to stretch the definition of "album" here, but Micheal Giacchino (Of Ratatouille and The Batman fame) and the Northwest Sinfonia performance is on par with any big budget film. In that same style as those classic '60s and '70s war films with just a touch of Indiana Jones style pulp mixed in, I honestly use this as a workout aid sometimes because it really gets your blood pumping. Perfect music to shoot Nazis to.

9# The Flaming Lips Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (2002)

Can't rightly describe this album, but it has such a diverse mix of style and surreal sound that I've always come back to it. The titular song, alongside Fight Test are my favorites.

10# Smokey Bastard Propping up the Floor (2008)

As is obviously clear I like history. So it's of little shock I like a good sea shanty or ballad, mix a bit of rock in there and to quote Carl Weathers "Baby, you’ve got a stew going." Their rendition of The Cumberland Crew is especially moving.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

7 and 22 for the music asks?

7) three songs you didn’t expect to like but eventually loved

It's not so much that I expected to not like it but I expected that I would only listen to this song around Christmas time. But I don't, I listen to it all year long ;)

On first hearing, I found this song not so special. Then came Skar's metal cover, and after that, I couldn't get the song out of my head...

Now this one... the original by REM is a classic, but after all these years, you might get to the point you just can't stand it anymore. The Trivium cover, though... slaps.

22) three songs you listen to when you’re sad

When I'm sad, I need to dive into that sadness to get over it. Use it for fic, for example, or just listen to very sad songs to fully embrace the emotion for a while, then let go.

Thank you for this ask!

[mariacallous]

Guards at Moscow’s Matrosskaya Tishina prison have forbidden inmate Ilya Vasilyev, jailed for supposedly “false reports” about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, from writing the phrase “political prisoners” in his personal correspondence. 

According to Vasilyev’s defense attorney, he was recently summoned for a conversation with a Federal Penitentiary Service officer and told that his mail had been confiscated because he writes the term “political prisoners.” “That language is prohibited because there are no political prisoners in Russia. There are just prisoners,” the officer told Vasilyev. He was also instructed not to discuss his criminal case in letters, even though his trial is being held in open court without any classified evidence.

The meeting ended with the officer demanding that Vasilyev sign a document stating that he had no complaints about the prison’s censorship policies. The inmate’s attorney, human rights lawyer Gevorg Aleksanyan, told the news outlet OVD-Info that he has never encountered such a document before.

Police arrested Ilya Vasilyev in June 2024 on charges of spreading illegal “disinformation” about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine because of a Facebook post written in English where Vasilyev criticized Vladimir Putin’s rejection of a Christmas 2022 truce in Ukraine.

Last month, the head of the Kremlin’s Human Rights Council denied that political repressions continue in contemporary Russia, describing the persecution of antiwar citizens as “minimal contamination control.”

According to OVD-Info, the Russian authorities have prosecuted at least 4,590 people for political reasons since 2012.

[cat-n-rabbit]

Today on... cool things in SaGaRS that are no longer available.

Modern heroes! Or.. all the funny prefecture collabs edits and other events where the 7 Heroes just had fun.

Unfortunately all of these were from post Polka's arc where the game got little to no writing anymore so all these events have no story beyond what you can come up with while reading the descriptions. I don't know why it was so difficult to attach some dialogue and exchanges between the characters in a pixel art game but I suppose that was too much to ask for from the small indy developer SQUARE ENIX ...

These are now only available in the game's custom battle design option, and I don't really remember others, but anyhowsies.... here we go, for they are a lot!

We start of with the Music Fes 2022! It was one of my favorite events. It was so colorful and so many SaGa characters were having music/performance styles! The event came with a raid event and bosses with their own stages. Wagnas had not only a banner style but raid boss style too!

I don't remember the BGM that played on his stage but I assume it was one of the 7 heroes arrangements. Modern world pop star Wagnas?

Sadly majority of the events didn't get any story context. The best you could do is piece together a narrative based on their banner lines...which wasn't much. Given how Final Emperor had a music festival style too along Wagnas makes me wonder how were they both talked into this? Then again Wagnas seems to easily hop into festivities.

Next up is all the Saga prefecture collab bosses! RS will often have collabs with the saga prefecture in Japan and as result have raid events designed over various places in the prefecture. At various raid nodes you would have bosses who seem to be enjoying the activities there!

Your guesses of what's going on here is as good as mine xD;

Beyond Subier got drunk and claimed the spa pond(?) and Dantarg is out there to eat all the goods and you just happen to be on the way... I have little clue what's Kzinssie's deal. Did he try to eat a crab and the crab tried to eat him??

I assume these are the prefecture flag/colors? Bokhohn just had to control a giant...whatever that is (giant goby?) and we had to fight it at some point of course. I recall Rocboquet had a banner style during that event with skill especially targeting the giant gobby. It's a shame we never got story attached to these cause it felt like there was something going on here!

And lets not forget ... ... balloon Wagnas.

-Deep breathes- the source of my PTSD... Balloon Wagnas. Now, now... I know the event is gone and the game will disappear at the end of November, but let me just... just explain the pain and suffering. We had to get a drop from every prefecture boss from this event to turn in and get gems, typical grindy stuff. Usually RS is not too bad with drops. But not Wagnas, oh no... He claimed the skies with his balloons and he would not drop a dang balloon. 200+ fights later I finally got it, normally it would take like less than 50... Wagnas, what have I done to you!?? I've always collected your styles and used you in battles T^T;;;

Anyhowsies... so you know... Wagnas likes his ballons and he ain't sharing any. Not until you cry and beg I guess.

And last but not least.... That one time when idk what Bokhohn smoked but he went full Grinch/Scrooge mode and decided to ruin christmas for everyone !

Not only he was a boss he also had a banner style where he was all about riding a mechanical sleigh with puppet reindeers and raining bombs over Avalon! What was the context behind that? Who knows! It was event without any story context once again. I was especially sad we got no story cause Noel had a wonderful christmas style where he seemed to be enjoying himself for once. And Final Empress had a style on the same banner as Noel and it looked like a truce to enjoy the festivities.

Hokay... forgot about the School banners! The RS Academy events which... got a short 3 part manga comic but not an in-game story for some reason. But! We got... Astronomy Teacher Wagnas! Trickster illusionist Bokhohn and Janitor Kzinssie!

I remember in the manga Wagnas was being a bestie with Gerard and nerding about stars which I thought was really sweet, especially considering one of Gerard's styles does have Galactic Rift (strongest light spell!) and It's just me here connecting the dots like some wild conspiracy theoriest but I guess nerdy boy Gerard also enjoys astronomy!

Bokhohn seemed to be a student this time...which is funny cause isn't he supposed to be older than Wagnas? He mentions he prefers illusions and tricks to actual magic. Maybe in modern world he will be all about card tricks!

And... that's all I could pull from the vault!

I hope it was fun read. :>

I will miss the sillies RS provided. . . u_u; You could randomly miss a character regardless of which SaGa game and log into RS then put them in silly hat and go smack a random old boss or something... I only hope they will make a new SaGa mobile game at some point cause RS even in Japan is not doing well right now.

[chicleeblair]

Dawn of Redeeming Grace [23/23]

Title: Chapter 23: Somewhere Only We Know || FFN

Rating: NC-17/Explicit

Pairings: Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd

Six weeks after Derek left to take the NIH job, Meredith is ready to use the holidays to prove she has this working mom thing on lock. Sure, he neglected to tell her he'd be bringing a guest, but whatever, 'Tis the season for truces. Even Ellis Grey took the day off. But with every moment of family togetherness, a return to the trenches seems more impossible. Can a few days of peace put their relationship back on track, or has she fallen for the illusion of a snow-globe, destined to either settle or shatter?

Dawn of Redeeming Grace|| FFN

Dancing on a ferryboat. When I started writing this, I was determined to make it as Mer/Der as I could, and I think that’s the peak. Getting them there in season eleven was a challenge, but it was fun. I’m really proud of this fic, and I hope you’ve all enjoyed it—

So far. 

Originally, this fic had an epilogue. It was my first venture into recent-Grey’s, except for Beginning to Feel the Years and I was writing in 2022, while Mer was still in Minnesota, and there was a Christmas episode I hadn’t watched. I decided to set it pre-Covid, which puts us right around the insurance fraud case. Long story short, the short story went long. The epilogue became a companion. It’s three parts that will post on Fridays, starting next week. 

Back to this chapter. I really don’t think that “what happened to you” can be gone over enough. Both Ellis saying it and Derek repeating it, with that little freaking gasp, like he’s never imagined she could be the person he’s seeing. Ugh. It’s just like the stairwell, and it’s all why Meredith was so afraid of intimacy. Because someone who knows you can do more than stab you. Their venom can stay in your body, just like Granny Shepherd said.

These two have things to work on—Derek’s coming home two months earlier than he did in canon. But I think this is possibly more solid. The one thing I like about the freakin’ Renee Collier thing is that it’s a parallel with, say, 2x03 where Meredith kisses him, and says “hating you is the most exhausting,” and it doesn’t make his decision. In going home right then, he proves it. So, I can forgive Meredith letting everything be water under the whatever—for then— to jump him.

Which she also does when he builds a gazebo in a day, which I contend is as realistic a timeline as anything that happens in a day in this freakng show.

[oceankat8]

Happy Truce @plazmawulf !!

Prompt: Mariah Carey and Ember have combined their powers for a new Christmas single and Danny has heard enough. 

I hope you like it!

[lisartino]

Hey @mossy-covered-bones ! This is Mama Lisartino and I'm your gifter from the 2022 Holiday Truce led by @phandomholidaytruce !

Haven't seen that much fan art of any of the cast hanging out in a PAX unplugged-like convention since the road trip episode. Plus, you wanted them to hang out after a break so here we go! This is why the Danno cousins get to cosplay by day (and are total jerks to by night).

For those who wonder who they're cosplaying, Dani/Ellie is Niko from Oneshot(with the blob as the light) and Danny is Tim/Red Hood (did I get his name right? I'm not into the DP/DC as you can tell)

Also, here's a bonus sketch and the reason why I took this one prompt:

[bubblegumbeech]

Don’t Try Again

Happy Truce @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Here’s your fic, I hope you like it! AO3

“Give me your hand.”

She reached towards him. At the same time—no, faster than the others but only by just a moment.

It was long enough. 

Once he took her hand he was pulled, firmly, securely, into her arms. It felt comforting, safe.

She had been his enemy, she had been his friend. She had almost been more.

Now, in this moment, she was his protector.

It had started fine. A normal day. Red Huntress was chasing him down after he dealt with Cujo’s weekly ‘walk’. (The one where he destroyed half the town because he had the zoomies.) 

He hadn’t expected to fly face first into a ghost shield. 

Then again, he had never been particularly observant. 

The shield had been different from what he was used to—sticky and malleable as opposed to solid with a slight buzzy feeling. It also burned, not anything excessive, or that he couldn’t handle, but uncomfortable and corrosive nonetheless. 

He couldn’t get it off. Like a mosquito trapped in amber, the more he struggled the more it started to incase him. Even Red Huntress had stopped, watching in dark fascination as Phantom became trapped. 

His parents had jumped out from around a corner, claiming victory and monologing about their new invention. 

His parents were still celebrating when the GIW found them, and started writing tickets and trying to claim government jurisdiction over his capture. 

Danny didn’t bother rolling his eyes, but he did groan as he felt the substance start to turn hard and sharp around him. It made every move to escape both more difficult and more painful, the still soft and moldable parts eating away at his ectoplasm with the jagged bits digging into fresh wounds and making themselves at home.

He really wasn’t claustrophobic, especially not with the amount of times he got trapped in the thermos. Something about being completely unable to move without his physical form being dismissed though…Every movement punished…

It was shrinking. 

The trap-burning goo-stuff that hurt. 

It was getting smaller and burning through him. His ectoplasm. Was this how Dani felt? When she started fizzling away? 

There was a moment were he just froze, the realization taking hold. He knew, of course, that his parents as hunters weren’t particularly worried about how safe their weapons and traps were to use on ghosts. They had no qualms about… well, anything, in the name of their research and vendetta. 

He just kind of hoped that, like most of their inventions had been so far, their future inventions would turn out to be mostly useless. 

His eyes met Red Huntress. She, unlike the other hunters, was not celebrating. She was watching though. Her nails tapped in an erratic rhythm against the weapon clipped to her belt and she looked on edge. Like she was half a second away from doing… something. 

Danny didn’t know what that something might be.

Wasn’t really sure he wanted to either. His faith in humanity was starting to be at risk. At least Skulker’s traps were only ever uncomfortable or shorted out his powers. He’d never had one slowly start to dissolve him. 

But he knew what he had to do. It wasn’t worth Ending over. And he could always do something to fix it if it went badly. As long as he survived. As long as whatever this was didn’t reach his core. 

He transformed.

It hurt. 

The crystallized goo splintered apart, cutting and tearing even deeper into Danny’s skin. But it didn’t burn anymore. At least whatever this was wouldn’t work on both forms. No worries about it being a modern Blood Blossom. 

His parents’ eyes went wide behind their goggles, there was a gasp from Red Huntress and the GIW moved for their weapons. 

Maddie was the fastest.

She hit him—hard. 

The Fenton Anti-Creep Stick cracked against the side of his head and Danny staggered back down to his knees, crashing them into some of the thin splinters of the sharpened goo. 

What? Why did she….?

He shook his head but that sent the whole world spinning and didn’t help him decipher any of the things being screamed over him. 

The only thing he saw as the edges of his sight went blurry was Red Huntress reaching out, and the only thing he could do was take her hand before he collapsed entirely. 

Danny woke up in a familiar room. It wasn’t his though, and he couldn’t remember—

“Owww,” he groaned, hand lifting to his head. Everything was still spinning, despite his accelerated healing. Luckily the rest of the wounds, cuts and general abrasions had disappeared during his impromptu nap. Only his knees were really still chewed up and someone had cleaned them up at least.

Right now he kind of wished his brain had disappeared too. 

Two warm hands pressed gently at his shoulders. “Lie back down lover boy,” a warm voice said from beside him. “You’re hurt.”

“Val?” he asked, his vision still blurry. “What did you…?”

“I took you home to get you bandaged. You transformed in front of damn near every ghost hunter in town.”

He let himself fall back into the plush pillow, biting at his lip to try and ground the pain. “So you knew.”

There was a snort, and Danny closed his eyes. Figured. He was bad at lying.

“I didn’t know,” she said, to Danny’s surprise. “But I know your… cousin. So when you transformed I put two and two together. Unlike other, less talented hunters, I know you are who you say you are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Her grip on his shoulders tightened, just a bit, before letting go and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. 

“Your parents are on a man hunt. They think the worst. You remember that Amorpho guy?”

“Couldn’t forget him if I tried.” A useful ally, but a horrible enemy to have. Especially if you didn’t know his tells. 

“Yeah, well, they think you're something like a cross between him and Spectra.” She looked uncomfortable. “They think you… stole your own body.” 

Danny sighed. “Of course they do. I need to talk to them, set this right.”

But Val was still holding him down.

“You’re not going anywhere to get yourself killed until you’re fully healed. Understand?”

Danny nodded slowly, careful not to move too much and set off the spinning again. 

“Good.” She smiled, brushed a bit of hair from his forehead , then leaned down and kissed him gently on the corner of his eye. “Go back to sleep. I’ll run interference.”

He was fairly certain that sleeping after a concussion was probably a big no, but he was already half dead and a little brain damage was nothing compared to some of the other stuff he’d dealt with. So Danny let himself fall asleep, two warm and delicate hands carding through his hair and carefully avoiding the bandage there. 

When he woke up it was to the smell of food. Real food, without that zesty sting of ectoplasm he’d grown used to. It smelled delicious, even if Danny’s head was still spinning as bad as it was last night he still probably wouldn’t have been able to resist seeking it out. 

He was pretty much healed by now though, even with the sting of whatever it was that had gotten him trapped in the first place. 

Walking slowly into the kitchen, he saw Val at the table, two plates and two cups of coffee still just barely steaming.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “The food was going to get cold if you took any longer waking up.”

“Thanks.” He sat down across from her and took a bite out of the toast before diving after the coffee.

Valerie was looking at him. It was the same gaze she’d always reserved for Danny Fenton ever since their almost-not-relationship. Warm, bemused, soft. 

For some reason he had expected it to change when she found out. To turn sour, or dark, or bitter, or betrayed—

“Stop thinking so much,” she said, tossing a piece of toast at him.

He caught it and immediately licked the jam off in a small petty act of retribution. 

Her laugh was still the same. And despite every warning Sam and Tucker had ever given, it still turned his core to goo just hearing it.

“You’re not mad?” He set the toast down, fiddling with his hands and avoiding eye contact. He knew what the answer likely was. Even so, he still really needed to hear it out loud. Something. A certainty worth holding onto even if it was likely to break his heart. 

“Should I be?” she said softly, dropping her chin onto the back of her hand. “I mean, I tried to End you quite a bit before we started getting along better. And you knew who I was. That I was the one hunting you. 

“Honestly if you had told me I would have thought you were trying to trick me or something but…”

“But?”

She caught his gaze for a bit, searching. Eventually she gave up, pushed back from the table and sighed. “I saw your expression when your mom hit you.”

What expression did he have? Scared? Desperate? Was it too human to not believe?

Val gathered the empty dishes and walked them to the sink. Danny rushed to follow, offering to dry as she cleaned them. 

“… You looked like you were expecting it.”

Ah.

She turned to him, her hand resting warm and still a bit wet over his own on the counter. 

“Will you be okay Danny?”

That was the question wasn’t it? 

“I don’t think that’s really up to me anymore,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Val frowned. Her grip tightened. 

“Val?”

She stepped even closer, not letting him pull back, crowding him against the counter and wow.

Danny knew she was strong– all sturdy muscles and a solid frame so vastly unlike his own lanky moldable-even-when-he-was-human form, but it was different entirely to have the full force of that muscle pressed against him.

He fought a blush. They’d decided, the two of them, that their fight was more important. Danny needed to protect Amity Park. So did Val. 

They’d tried protecting it from each other. Then with each other. Then adjacent to each other. 

It was better not to get too involved with all those… secrets.

“Danny,” she said, catching his eyes. “No more secret identities right?”

He nodded. 

She nodded too and lifted a hand slowly to his cheek, as if asking for permission. He didn’t stop her.

Even as she leaned in. Even as she kissed him. 

He tried to stop her when she pulled away though. 

They stayed like that for some time. Touch, taste, warmth, the only things Danny bothered to think about. Living (for once) in the moment. 

But there was only so long a single moment could last, and eventually they pulled apart. 

“If you need help—“

Danny chuckled. “I already come to you when I need help, Val.”

She blushed, her skin just a touch darker around her ears and cheeks. “Shut up,” she said. “This time I won’t try and run you off, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s get to school.” She walked back to her room to grab her bag, and Danny remembered he was still wearing the same gross clothes from yesterday. They were torn in very unflattering ways with splatters of unknown goo, ectoplasm, and blood. 

They also smelled bad. 

“Uh… lemme call Jazz first.”

Jazz was able to bring his clothes so he could shower in the locker room. Other than that, school was pretty normal. He warned Sam and Tucker that his secret was probably out so they should be prepared in case anyone went after them.

The trouble was, he didn’t really know what to do now. Should he go home? Ask to stay at someone’s place? Hide out in the Zone for a bit? What would help get his parents to trust him? What would keep him safe?

Was there even a good answer to that?

Why was he so scared? There were plenty of times they found out and accepted him… before he reset time or reality or their memories—

He could always do that again. Ask Clockwork for a favor, rewind time a day. Just one. He was usually pretty accommodating with those kinds of requests. 

But the memory of a warm kiss after breakfast stopped him. 

Would they have that if he didn’t let this go?

Was one of these things worth the cost of the other?

Why was he so scared? Still? 

Val found him after the last class ended. There weren’t any ghost attacks all day. Danny didn’t know if it was because the day itself was just a bit boring, or if his parents' new traps had done more damage than he’d like to think about, but he still couldn’t concentrate in class.

Because of course not. His day off was for worry and confusion and over thinking. Relaxation? That was for the — well clearly not for the dead, huh? 

“You’re sure you feel alright?” she asked. 

“Right as rain!” Danny forced an easy going grin. “Real rain, not the ecto-mix we get here in Amity Park.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re half ghost. I think the Ecto-mix is actually a better metaphor.”

Exaggerating a pout, Danny trailed a fake tear down the side of his cheek. “You wound me.”

“I’ll try to avoid that in the future.” She ruffled his hair, gently, and then she was gone. With the speed she left, she probably had work right after school. 

He watched her go, lost in thoughts once more. What were they now? What could they be if he just let this go? Let whatever was happening, happen. 

What would happen if he didn’t?

“Danny?” Jazz tapped him on the shoulder. Startling him. 

It took a second of Danny holding a hand over his heart and glaring at his sister before he calmed back down to his usual– probably unhealthy– levels of anxiety.

He shook his head and started walking. “Sorry, thinking about homework. What were you saying?”

She didn’t look convinced. She shouldn’t, he was a bad liar. But he was trying. “Are you sure you want to come home tonight? Val told me—“

“Yeah,” he shrugged, forcing his smile to look more relaxed than he felt. “The longer I put it off the worse it’ll be, you know?”

Jazz shook her head. “It’s your choice little brother.”

No, not really. If he had a choice…

Would he tell them anything at all? Would he have told anyone?

Wouldn’t he have kept it from Jazz too?

“Mom?” Danny knocked on the door of the lab, Jazz next to him just in case. “Dad? Can I talk to you for a second?”

It was silent. Danny called out again. 

This… wasn’t a good sign. 

He stepped back.

A voice, sickly sweet. “Where are you going, sweety?”

“I… uh…”

His mom and dad stepped up from the bottom of the basement, the shadows hiding most of their expressions. 

“I needed to explain—“

He heard it before he saw it. But it didn’t matter either way. Jazz was pushing him aside and shouting. 

“Get out of here for now!”

So he did.

He disappeared and watched his sister argue with his parents about how human he was and—

“We won’t hurt him! We just want to make sure—“

Was the last thing he heard before he made it outside. 

To make sure.

Of what? How? What was that thing they shot at him? A new invention? Already? 

His stamina had never been very good so the short sprint from home was very short and soon Danny was just walking in the opposite direction of his house. Aimless. 

It wasn’t like he had to worry about curfew right then, not with the much bigger threat looming over him. 

He was just outside the Nasty burger and about a third of the way to Tucker’s place when he heard it. 

“Get run out?” 

“Taking a walk,” Danny smiled up at Red Huntress as she hovered above him. “Walking’s for nerds. Come take a flight with me instead.”

So he did that too. 

Easier to go with the flow than to try and think on his own. 

He transformed, not bothering to look if anyone saw him. The ones that mattered knew now anyways. 

“Can you even keep up on that thing?” He nodded towards Val’s hoverboard even as she revved it.  “Or should I go easy on you?”

“Hah!” She shifted her weight back, zooming forward past Danny. “If anything, I should be the one with a handicap.”

He smirked, watching her silhouette as it got smaller, then flew after her. It was more fun to catch up than to stay ahead. 

They ran across Skulker. Because of course they did. Turned out the reason today was so quiet was because he’d been planning some kind of ambush and scaring other ghosts away. 

Too bad for him.

“Ah,” he said, looking up from the trap he was setting as Danny and Val both slowed to a stop above him. “You’re here a bit… early.”

“Sorry about that,” Danny said, “I’d have taken another lap around town before stopping but I didn’t want to embarrass anyone.”

“Ha,” Red Huntress rested her large ecto-weapon on her shoulder. “You’re lucky I was going easy on you then. Otherwise the one embarrassed would be Phantom.”

“You’re just saying that cause I won~”

“In your dreams.”

“That’s weird, the last dream I had you were definitely—“

She coughed, loudly. “J-just help me catch this creep!”

Success. Danny would love to see if she was blushing under her helmet, but for now just getting her flustered was reward enough. 

Skulker had tried to run off while the two of them were distracted, so Danny threw a wall of ice in front of him, forcing him to turn around. He shot a net out in retaliation, and Danny (in his usual fashion) couldn’t decide whether to phase through it or dodge and got tangled up in it.

“Shit—“

“Ha! I see your dodging hasn’t improved.” Red Huntress zoomed past, aiming her ectoweapon and firing three shots successively. Each one missed as Skulker dodged and burned a hole through Danny’s ice shield. 

“I see your aim hasn’t improved,” he sneered, finally cutting away the last of the net with a sharpened piece of Ecto-ice. 

An ecto-blast whistled right past his ear and Danny glanced up, affronted. 

“Whoops~,” Red Huntress sang before following after it. “Try to keep up this time, would ya?”

Danny let himself smile as he kicked away the last of the net. Maybe he should let her win this one.

They had defeated Skulker and Danny let Red Huntress trap him in her cube to send him back to the Ghost Zone. He didn’t really know when he’d be able to use his parents’ portal again after all. 

She released her suit, and he undid his transformation, and the two of them walked, hand in hand for a bit, before deciding to get some food at the Nasty Burger.

He hadn’t even taken a bite of the fries before everything started to weigh on him again. 

“I just… don’t get it,” he mumbled, unable to even taste the salty mush now in his mouth. “You handled it so well.”

Val sat back. “I told you, I met your cousin. I already knew about—“

“Everyone always handles it so well… why can’t they?”

He didn’t mean to interrupt. Didn’t really mean to say any of it out loud either. But she leaned in before he could apologize. 

“What do you mean Danny?” Her hand reached for his. 

“Everytime…” he thought back to the different times and different situations where his secret got out. Desiree, Freakshow, some of the others… “Dash and Paulina and Lancer always handle it well when they find out even though they hate me—“

“I don’t think Mr. Lancer hates you.”

“And Jazz handled it so well too! Why isn’t there one—one timeline where they handled it with grace?”

“Danny,” her hand grabbed his shoulder. “Timeline?”

He didn’t answer.

She let go reluctantly and it showed on her face. In the pinch of her brow and the confusion of her eyes. 

“Danny, can you do something for me?”

Her voice was light and Danny found himself nodding without even thinking. Of course he would. He would do anything he could to help her.

It took a moment. Them gazing into each others eyes, trying to read what the other was thinking, before she smiled and pat his hand. 

“Good. Promise me you won’t reset this timeline. You won’t try to change their reactions—“

“But—“

She held a hand to his mouth. “No. Give them a chance to grow, to get used to it. And don’t take this,” she squeezed his shoulder, gesturing to the two of them, “away from me.”

“Okay,” he said, “okay.”

They shared another small kiss, short and sweet, before she punched him on the shoulder and told him to man up.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “Let’s set this straight.”

And maybe this time they would. 

[englandamericaitaly]

Here’s my @phandomholidaytruce 2022 Christmas Truce gift for @shuchelle !!! I hope you like how he turned out; I’m pretty happy with the design, myself! 

[queenofbaws]

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPd6UM32J/

For the pump wars ❤️

(I sent this to both of you cause I had to see your reactions)

two sentence horror story, queenie edition:

i went to my family's house to celebrate the holidays with my loved ones. when i opened the fridge, i saw they only had extra pulp juice.

let's pour one out for this brave pulp-less warrior - just make sure whatever you're pouring out is pulp-less as well, AS IS RIGHT AND PROPER!!!!!!!!!!

[livehorsesartpage]

The prompt is "Fraternity"

The Christmas Truce is one of my favorite Christmas stories. It's a very inspirational historical event. It reminds us how those men decided to put their political divisions aside and have a good time with each other, and it reminds us how God, taking our flesh made us all His children and all of us equal by becoming brothers and sisters no matter the culture, race, religion, generation, social position or political opinion.

Made with pencil colors and markers at December 19 of 2022.

[arisu-reblogs]

Ohhhhh...  👀👀 love it <3 <3 thank you soooo much  🥰🥰 love the detail of having a ghost holding the mistletoe >< >< 

This Holiday Truce gift is for @arisu-artnfics!

Your prompt with Valerie and Danny under mistletoe sounded so sweet, especially under a winter's night sky.

I hope you enjoy this, and that you have a happy holiday!

[munson-blurbs]

Kinkmas Day 2 (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Argyle)

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), threesome, oral (m! and f! receiving), handjobs, fingering, protected p in v, drug use, language, use of pet names

WC: 2k

Kinkmas 2022 Masterlist

--

Christmas Eve 1987 starts like any other holiday: spending time with your friends and avoiding as much familial interaction as possible.

“God, this blows,” Eddie exhales, permeating the air with the smell of weed.

“I mean, it’s not as good as the Cali shit, but it’s not the worst strain I’ve ever had, bro,” Argyle shrugs, taking another hit before passing the joint to you.

“No, dumbass,” Eddie snorts.”I meant the whole holiday season thing, joy and cheer and blah blah blah.”

You stifle a laugh, trying not to choke on the smoke you just inhaled. “Calm down, Scrooge,” you tease. “It’s not that bad.”

“You didn’t grow up watching kids get all of the cool things you wanted while your uncle barely scrounged up enough cash to buy you new sneakers,” Eddie retorts. 

“Maybe you’ll get something good this year,” you say nonchalantly, thinking of the gift you got him: a lighter with EM and a music note engraved on the side.

“Yeah, maybe,” he mutters, reaching for the joint again. 

“Well,” you start, “I have something special for each of you.” You giggle when their eyes widen. “Not that, you pervs!”

Eddie points at Argyle. “Look, you got his hopes up; poor guy.” He laughs. “Maybe got something else up, too.”

“Shut up, dude!” Argyle chastises him, leaning over you to give him a shove. A blush creeps into his cheeks and he rips the joint from Eddie’s hands angrily.

“Whoa, chill!” You’ve never seen Argyle this defensive before. “Arg, he was just kidding. Besides,” you add slyly, “you know this horny bastard would get with either of us if we gave him the chance.”

Eddie holds his hands up in defense. “Don’t go spilling my secrets now!” The high has clearly set in for him, which means he’s got even less of a filter than usual. “Anyway, ‘s not like people can’t see you making heart-eyes at her all the time.”

This time, Argyle gets to his feet and grabs Eddie by his jacket collar. “I said, shut the fuck up, man!” he hisses. “We had a deal!”

“What deal?” you ask, prying his fingers off of Eddie. It wasn’t the first time you’d had to break up an argument between them, though usually Eddie was the one trying to get to Argyle.

Argyle sighs. “Well, since someone decided to blab everything anyway, I might as well divulge this precious information.” 

This time, Eddie’s the one scrambling. “Don’t you dare–”

“Eddie and I both wanted to ask you out but we made a truce and now neither of us can get with you!” Argyle blurts out before Eddie tackles him.

“Boys!” you yell, stopping their antics immediately. “What if…what if I said I liked both of you?” Wow, you’re really high.

“I’m sorry, what?” Eddie gawps.

You sigh, wishing you could rewind time and take back what you’d just said. “Never mind,” you mumble. “Let me take another hit.”

“No, I think we need to discuss this further.” Argyle sits back down next to you. “So you would sleep with either one of us?”

“Sure, yeah, but not if it’s gonna cause you two to beat the shit outta each other.”

Eddie frowns, furrowing his brows. “What if you didn’t have to choose?”

“Like…both at once?” You bark out a laugh incredulously.

The boys look at each other and grin. “We’re down if you are,” Argyle says with a shrug.

“Oh-okay,” you murmur. That’s all the encouragement Eddie needs; he tilts your chin and kisses you deeply, making your legs tremble. “Maybe we can go inside?” you suggest, motioning to Eddie’s trailer door. You know Wayne is at work, which means you’ll have the place to ourselves. 

The three of you sit on the couch; Eddie on your left, Argyle on your right. You feel Eddie move your hair from behind your ear and press wet kisses down your jawline. “This feel good, princess?” he asks softly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Your gaze lands on Argyle, seemingly frozen in place. “Arg, you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, “just didn’t ever think this would happen.” He swallows thickly, fidgeting with joint between his fingers. That gives you an idea.

“Take a hit, but don’t exhale yet,” you instruct him, trying to focus while Eddie’s hands roam your body. Argyle does as he’s told, and you lean in so your lips brush his. “Now, blow the smoke into my mouth.”

He opens his mouth and you mirror him, inhaling deeply as your tongues graze one another. You feel him start to relax, letting go of whatever insecurities he held onto.

“That’s it,” you coax him, taking his large hand in your smaller one and guiding it to your tits. “Touch me wherever you want.”

He’s gentle at first, running a thumb over your clothed chest in awe, but quickly begins groping you hungrily. He toys with the hem of your shirt, suddenly shy again, and you pull it over your head with a smirk.

“Dude,” Argyle breathes out. Eddie can only see your naked back, and he pulls you around by your shoulder to get a glimpse of what Argyle’s eyes are glued to.

“Holy shit,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us, keeping these perfect little tits covered up this whole time.”

“Didn’t…didn’t know that you wanted to see them,” you manage dumbly, and both of the guys just grin in response.

“Hey, um…” Argyle pipes up, and you turn your attention back to him. “I wasn’t done.” He hooks a thick finger around your belt loop and pulls you closer to him, wrapping his pillowy lips around one of your nipples. It pebbles as his tongue flicks over it. Eddie busies himself at your neck, harshly sucking bruises into the sensitive skin. You whimper at the overwhelming stimulation; you’ve gotten hickeys and been fondled before, but never at the same time.

“Fuck, princess,” Eddie coos, “if you make those pretty noises, you’re gonna have to help me out here.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see him gesture to the erection pressing against his jeans. 

“Bed,” you moan out, taking their hands in yours and guiding them to Eddie’s room. Argyle snuffs out the joint in a nearby ashtray as you pull him along. “Off,” you point to their pants, tugging off your own as quickly as you can.

Eddie starts to palm himself through his boxers, but you move his hand and replace it with your own, making him hiss at your touch. “C’mere,” you whisper to Argyle, and you do the same to him. There’s something utterly powerful about having them in each of your hands, knowing you control their pleasure.

Argyle’s lips press against yours. He pushes your panties aside and slides a finger inside your wet cunt, making you cry out. “That good?” he murmurs into your mouth, and you pump his cock faster in response.

“Argyle, man,” Eddie whines, “you can’t have her mouth and her pussy. Y’gotta share.” You pout as Argyle breaks the kiss, but his lips are quickly replaced with Eddie’s.

“You know what would be fun?” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “If you ate her out while she moans into my mouth.”

Argyle’s on his knees and pulling you towards the edge of the bed before you can muster up a response. He looks up at Eddie and asks, “y’got a hair tie or something?” Eddie nods, tossing one from his cluttered nightstand. You watch as Argyle pulls his hair off of his face and into a messy ponytail.

“Y’look really fucking good like that,” you whimper as he parts your legs.

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but beam back. “Between your thighs, or with my hair back?”

“Both.”

You mewl when his tongue flicks over your clit; he’s methodical in the way he fucks you with it. Your hips buck up slightly as he quickens his pace, and Eddie’s voice growls in your ear. 

“Make those pretty noises f’me,” he orders. You greedily accept his kiss, keeping your hand wrapped around his stiff cock. He gets harder each time you whimper into him. “Just like that,” he muses, “but I think you could be louder, hmm?” He brings his gaze to Argyle, who is hungrily lapping at your pussy. “Arg, is that pussy schmackin’ or what?”

He knows what he’s doing; Argyle can’t hold back his laughter, sending vibrations through your body and making you scream out their names. “Eddie, don’t make him–fuck, Arg, you make me feel so fucking good–”

“Cum on his tongue, princess,” Eddie says, pinching your nipple between his strong fingers. “Show him what a good job he’s doing.”

Argyle takes the opportunity to suck on your clit, and you cum harder than ever before. Your legs are trembling when he detaches from you, wiping his mouth and grinning. “Never tasted such a perfect pussy in my fuckin’ life, dude.”

“Need…need someone inside me,” you pant, glancing between the two of them. “But you need condoms; I’m not carrying either of your idiot spawn.”

“Noted.” Eddie reaches into his dresser drawer and pulls out a gas station pack of Trojans. “Fuck!” he groans. “There’s only one left.”

“I c-can take one of you in my mouth,” you offer pleadingly. Argyle fucks his fist slowly, and you get on your hands and knees and lick the the tip of his cock teasingly. “You want that?” you ask knowingly.

“Mhm,” he hums, sweat beading along his brows. “Wanna see your beautiful face, please.”

You take his length in your mouth, tracing along the vein with your tongue. Eddie spanks you with his own sheathed cock, pushing down on your upper back and tilting your hips upwards.

“Y’ready, princess?” His erection glides along your folds. He pushes into you gently, practically splitting you open. “So wet for us; aren’t you, pretty thing?”

“Mmm,” you agree, mouth full of Argyle. Your answer reverberates around him and he thrusts into you harder, holding onto a fistful of your hair. Eddie pistons himself inside you; your ass cheeks clapping against his pelvis with each buck of his hips. You’re filled with your two favorite boys, and you couldn’t be happier–or more turned on.

“Gonna cum,” Argyle chokes out. You open your throat as he coats the inside of your mouth with his warm, sticky ropes. He gently pumps a few more times to bring himself down before you release him with a small pop, swallowing his release.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that.” He brushes his thumb along your cheek and smiles. “You’re so good for me–so good for us,” he amends, looking at Eddie, who is biting his lower lip and grabbing your ass so roughly that he’ll likely leave bruises behind. 

“Almost there,” Eddie mutters. “Cum with me. Can’t let him be the only one gettin’ you off tonight.”

“A little faster, Eds,” you tell him, and he complies, bringing a ringed finger down to your sensitive bud. You feel yourself clench around his dick, your release imminent. 

A string of curses leaves your lips, and Argyle kisses you as you finish. “There ya go, baby,” he coos. It might be the first time he’s called you a nickname besides bro or dude, and you can’t say you mind at all.

Eddie’s hips stutter as he cums into the condom, smacking your ass one last time for good measure. He pulls out slowly, tossing the barrier in the trash, and the three of you crash onto the bed.

“Did–did we really just do that?” Argyle wonders aloud.

“Sure fuckin’ did,” Eddie answers, still trying to catch his breath. “Now the only question is, who was better?” He turns to you and smiles sweetly, impatiently waiting for your reply.

“Obviously, it was me,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “The two of you were putty in my hands. Literally.”

The two of them nod in agreement, too fucked out to argue any further.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you find yourself slipping into sleep between them. Argyle’s arm is wrapped around your waist, while Eddie’s nuzzled into your breasts. You press a quick kiss to each of their cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, boys.” --